Content Harry Potter Original Works Harry Potter/New Battlestar Galactica
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Author Notes:

Disclaimer — It’s fanfiction.

Acknowledgements — Nukular Winter, Perspicacity, and BajaB for the alpha read.   Beta work by Aaran St. Vines and Kokopelli.   Input from the Works by Author section on DarklordPotter.

The Next Lord of Kobol

Chapter 9

An Unexpected Reunion

(Approximately five months after Harry's arrival at Delphi and roughly nine and one half years before the fall of the Twelve Colonies)


The cafeteria at Delphi Union was very clique oriented.  Most groups staked out their territory and used the "non-affiliated students" as a buffer between them and any rivals.  Maggie's racing group always took the tables in the left corner, farthest away from the lunch line.

Maggie set her tray down and plopped into her molded plastic chair.  "You ever think the frakkin genius who designed these chairs had no idea what a human body looks like?"

"You're in a mood today, Marge," Dianna said.  "I thought you'd be happier being out from under your mom's thumb.  Unless you already frakked it up again."

The only place she still had to suffer through being called Maggie was where they lived.  Marge had a mature sound to it.

"No, it's been three weeks since I got my bike back and I haven't lost a single privilege yet.  What's the over and under on me, Cy?"

Her boyfriend smiled and patted her knee.  "Nobody has you lasting until the end of Thargelion."

As everyone at the table laughed, she said, "And you folks are supposed to be my friends?"

"...who know you best," added John.  "I've noticed you're doing better in class.  Was it that bad at your mom's that it drove you to study?"

Maggie shrugged, "It wasn't that bad, but I'd like to avoid repeating it.  I needed to get my grades up for college next year."

She felt a twinge of guilt about never mentioning Harry to her friends, but hanging out and playing games with a mental patient wasn't exactly something they'd approve of.

"Gods!  Cy would take a swing at Harry just for that little stunt in the chapel in front of Aphrodite," she thought. 

Harry hadn't come back to the chapel with her since then and she worried that she might have taken her teasing a bit too far.  She asked Brother Furillo, who said that Harry had come back once or twice on his own and made an offering to Athena.

Maggie also felt guilty that she'd barely spent any time with Harry, since her punishment ended.  He seemed to understand and, if she were being honest with herself, was a little distant himself after that first visit to the chapel.

She'd be lying if she said it didn't bother her a little.

When her mother wouldn't answer questions about Harry and how he came to be there, she'd went to the source.  He let her see the newspaper clipping about being found at the museum.  The poison affecting his brain explained a good deal of why he struggled to say something and couldn't remember anything, but could be shown how to do things.  She pitied him.  He was intelligent, but unable to really interact.

The fact that he'd also killed the woman who had been trying to sacrifice him in self-defense also made her wary.  Try as she might, she couldn't picture Harry Potter, with his grin, child-like wonderment, and green eyes, in a life or death struggle.

Put simply, the boy just didn't have what it took to be a badass.

"Are you still with us Marge?  Your mind took a FTL jump, but left your body behind."

She shook the distractions out of her head and said, "So, what are we talking about?"

"We're deciding if we want to go to Rachel's party for the seventh day?"

The beginning of a new month brought numerous parties dedicated to the birthdays of the Gods.  With Apollo being the patron deity of Caprica, the seventh day after the start of the month was always the largest festival.

"She only invited us to be polite.  She doesn't really want us there," John added.

Cy gave a wicked smile, "Which is why it would be impolite to not go."

Somehow, Maggie knew it wouldn't end well, but just the same she tipped her plastic drink cup to the rest and joined in the group saying, "So say we all."


Rune carvings were the basic building blocks of enchanting, and warding.  After his rushed introduction to the subject, Harry couldn't understand why it wasn't mandatory at Hogwarts.  The runic scheme on his Sneakoscope was so tiny that he needed a magnifying glass to see it.  Unfortunately, that dodgy scope was becoming less and less effective.  Harry couldn’t be sure whether it was just the item's fault or that he was becoming used to the staff here and no longer saw them as a threat.  It reinforced something a witch named Luna Lovegood said to him a few days before he abandoned Hogwarts.

“Magic is as fickle as we are, Harry.  It understands our intent…sometimes better than we do.”

Turning his attention back to the scope and the stones in front of him, he imagined that the enchanter had engorged the object while they worked on it.  At the moment, he was trying to craft a set of repelling wards for a more permanent solution to his privacy.  His spellwork continued to produce mixed results.  Ideally, he hoped that they would move him at some point to the room at the end of the hallway.

With the rune stones, he'd be able to adjust their position and get a better handle on his situation.

His base material was a soft rock similar to soapstone.  He'd also picked up a few pieces of igneous rock.  Both were easy to polish and work with, but not very durable.

"Ironic though," he thought.  "Maggie hasn’t come knocking in a couple of weeks.  I should've never let her see that news article!  The fact I was found with a dead body probably creeped her out."

The other possibility was that Maggie held that kiss in the chapel against him, but he knew less about girls than he did Colonial Standard or Arithmancy for that matter.  His grasp of runes was very good, but the other subjects still confused him.

No one would ever confuse him with Hermione.  That much was certain.

Still, he needed to be careful.  The facility didn't like sharp tools in the hands of their residents and he couldn't afford having them taken away, or performing a memory charm on the unlucky nurse or person who walked in on him.

The fears Harry had about weakening magic were unfounded.  He was as strong as ever.  Using Moody's old cloak and a bit of apparition, Harry didn't have any problems slipping out at night.  Some wandwork and Lockhart's tome of household spells allowed him to treat the hedges with a weed inhibitor charm.  Though he didn't mind yard work, he wasn't above cutting corners.

Denise, the groundskeeper, really wasn't any good despite her efforts, but Harry got the impression that she couldn't be fired because of being a veteran.

A couple of times, Maggie had left her gridbox with him, but her mom and the speech therapist he saw every third or fourth day put a stop to that.  Instead, since he was showing progress they gave him more exercises to do and used "grid time" as a carrot to encourage better performance.

He looked at the calendar and still couldn't make that much sense of it.  They had twelve thirty day months which seemed to start with the "lunar" cycle, for lack of a better word, of Gemenon.

All he could figure out was that the months didn't really include weekends.  Instead the first eight days of each new month were set aside for festivals to the various Gods.  Try as he might, it just didn't match up with what he was used to.

Renewing the cushioning charm on his bed, he checked over his work and activated the rune stones.  Using a sticking charm, followed by a notice-me-not charm, Harry attached the weakest of the three stones to the back of his door.  He arranged the two more powerful runes closer to his bed and on the small dresser where he sometimes hid his beaded bag.

Satisfied, the wizard considered his next project and flipped through Lockhart's book to the size expansion charms.  His plan was to increase the size of the space under his wastebasket and make it secret.  With that and a switching spell, he could hide anything on his bed as quickly as he could cast the spell.

Glancing at the clock, Harry sighed, "I've been at this for hours.  I think it's time to take a break and see what Helga's cup is going to give me tonight.  He continued to stockpile medicinal potions and had become quite adept at conjuring vials and rubber seals.

He stuck with a simple blood replenisher and, after etching the date on the glass, Harry added it to the cushioned box along with the dozens of others.

Placing the box back into the beaded bag, he thought about what he'd like to drink.  Usually, it was a glass of butterbeer, pumpkin or other juices, and even an occasional Coke or Pepsi.

"I need a change of pace," he said aloud and raised the cup.  "Let's see, if I've been keeping track of the dates correctly, it should be the middle of May back at the castle.  Everyone's in a panic over exams.  A tall glass of fire whiskey in honor of all my suffering schoolmates!  To Hogwarts!”

Harry coughed it down in a couple of mammoth gulps and felt the rush of the alcohol come into his system.  Magical liquor was potent, especially for someone described by one Sirius Black as a lightweight.  He managed to get the cup back into the bag and get the bag into its hiding place before the room started to spin.


“Master Harry Potter is needing to wake up!”

The gentle pat on Harry’s arm that was progressively turning into a frantic tug.  Forcing his eyes open was a task of Herculean proportions.

“What time is it?”

“Dobby does not know what time it is or even where he is. Dobby has come to help his master, the great Harry Potter.”

What would normally take an instant to shake Harry out of his funk instead required a full minute before the enormity of what was happening hit him in the face.  Something was off and Harry was confused until he remembered the fire whiskey.

“If it is going to make me have hallucinations, I'm never touching that stuff again!”

Even so, his imagination was doing a credible job of making Dobby seem real.  Harry reached out to touch the elf’s arm, but missed and ended up touching Dobby on the side of his head.  The hallucination felt remarkably real.

“Is Master Harry Potter in need of assistance?”  The elf asked with an uncertain expression on his face.

Letting his eyes wander the room, Harry make sure that this was still his room at the Open Arms in Delphi on the planet Caprica.  Reaching under his pillow, he grasped the wand he had there and fumbled his way through a sobering charm.  From what his Godfather told him, considerable research went into perfecting a nearly foolproof and easy to cast method of countering the effects of alcohol.

Even so, Harry almost flubbed it.

As his spell took hold, the elf in front of him did not disappear.

“Dobby?” Harry asked, not daring to believe his eyes.

“Harry Potter recognizes his elf!”  Dobby squealed.

“Quiet Dobby!”  Harry hissed, realizing how much noise the two of them were making.  A proximity ward, only visible to the caster, glowed and that meant someone was coming to check on them.

“Dobby, hide and make certain you aren’t seen,” he said and shoved his wand inside the pillowcase.

Seconds later the door opened and Nurse Gage poked his head in the room.  “Is everything okay, Harry?”

“Sorry,” he said switching to Colonial.  “Bad dream.”

“Okay,” the man said.  “Keep it down and go back to sleep.”

Harry was pleased that the man did not advance any further than the doorway. It gave him hope that his Muggle repelling ward was working as he thought it would. 

“Goodnight,” Harry said and tried to look innocent.

The nurse nodded and pulled the door shut.  Looking over at the dresser Dobby crouched behind, Harry held up his hand to indicate that the elf should stay where he was for the moment until the proximity spell’s slight glow faded from view.

He retrieved his wand and cast a privacy spell before motioning the smallish creature over and patting the bed.

“How did you get here?” Harry asked, still wondering if he should pinch himself.

“The great Albus Dumbledore sends Dobby through the magic arch to bring his master home!”

The elf snapped his fingers and a letter appeared.  “Great Dumbledore could not send message by owl, so he sends Dobby.”

Harry took the letter and opened it, eager to see what his headmaster was planning.

My dear Harry,

I am unsure in what state this letter will find you. Only a few days ago did I dare use the stone and attempt to call upon your spirit. I cannot properly express my joy at discovering the minor detail that you have not shuffled off the mortal coil.  When I questioned your parents and Godfather, they knew you were alive but could not tell me your current location.  Madame Lestrange’s spirit was there in the afterlife, but refused my call.

To that end, I have sent a couple of items in an effort to bring you home. The first is a charmed mirror which Mr. Black’s spirit assured me you are familiar with the operation.  I first attempted to send a Patronus through, but it would not go into the veil.  Strangely, my dear Fawkes also refuses to make the journey.  The second item is package of lemon drops, which is, in fact, a Portkey.  It will activate when you say Fleur Delacour.  If fortune favors us, it should whisk you away to her family’s estate in Southern France.

Should neither of these two devices work, I have included the portrait of Phineas Black.  He too was not excited about the prospects of undertaking this journey, however unlike my familiar; he did not have a choice, unless he wished to be turned over to the goblins or the ministry as a Black family possession. It is my hope that he will be able to circumvent the magic which deflects my efforts to retrieve you.

Unfortunately my time in England is quite short and I must concede that your skepticism of my plan concerning the defeat of Tom Riddle was quite justified.  Lucius Malfoy and his ilk released Fiendfyre at the entrance to the veil chamber and though many of the Order were able to escape when the wards fell, a large number of Ministry employees lost their lives.  In that vacuum and during the extended period of time I spent as recovering from my own injuries, Lucius consolidated his control of the country and perpetuated the lie that we were responsible for that slaughter.  For their safety, I have relocated the remaining Order members.  We appear to have won the battle, but in a sense, lost the war.

Sadly, I must ask that you attempt to return.  My magic is greatly diminished and for reasons you and I both discussed, the elder wand yet serves me, but no longer calls me its master.  Part of me hopes you are both safe and happy at your present location and it is only with the utmost reluctance that I make this request. Do not underestimate your importance as a symbol to our people.  Assuming you can return, you will become a rallying point for those who see the shackles encircling our society.

Alas, if you cannot rejoin us, I will soldier on to the best of my abilities and if no contact from you is made within a month's time, I will ask your other faithful house elf to join you on the other side of the veil.


Albus Dumbledore

Upon finishing the letter, Harry used a switching spell to change out of the shorts and T shirt he wore to bed.

Arranging the pillows like he was under the covers, Harry cast an illusion to augment it.  Next, he expanded the field of his privacy ward and packed what few items he owned and pulled out the loaner invisibility cloak.

He paused and thought about writing Maggie a goodbye note, but figured he didn't know what he could really say and that it would take too long anyway.

Taking one last look around, the only thing Harry regretted was not having a gridbox of his own.  Even so, the computerized paper was very impressive.

"Dobby, get under the cloak with me and take me back to the place where the veil let you out."

With the familiar sensation of house elf travel, Harry disappeared from room twenty-six of Amanda's Open Arms.


Last time he was here. Harry didn't have much of an opportunity to see the sights at the Delphi Museum of the Colonies.  This time he wasn't here for that purpose either.

"Maybe, I'll come back," Harry said.  If his interpretation of Athena's words was correct, he might need to.  For now, getting home was all that mattered.

Pulling out the small charmed mirror, Harry stepped in front of the arch and said, "Albus Dumbledore."

After a minute, nothing happened.  Harry tried again and fear that he wouldn't be able to return began to gnaw at the pit of his stomach.  Withdrawing the candy package Portkey from his pocket, he held out his hand to Dobby and said, “Fleur Delacour.”

There was no tugging at the naval sensation.  The object didn't even vibrate.  It was just like any other Portkey he’d tried to make since he arrived on Caprica.  Apparition didn’t work either and just left him standing in the tiny area between the arch and the wall.  Harry waved his wand across it and detected the enchantment was still there, but the magic contained within did not know where to take them.  Plucking a leaf from some kind of fern, Harry tried to make one last Portkey.  To keep things simple, he visualized the platform on the other side of the veil back in the Department of Mysteries.

It failed as well and Harry's hopes began to plummet back to the earth...actually, he couldn't even say that.

“Dobby,” he asked.  “Is there any chance you can transport us back to the other side of the veil?”

The determined looking elf said, “Dobby will not fail his master.”

The young Wizard could actually feel the strain on the elf’s magic.  When perhaps ten seconds had elapsed, Harry knew this wasn't going to work either.  That’s when he saw a trickle of blood coming from the elf’s nose.

“Dobby, stop.”

“No!  The great and wise Harry Potter must return to his home!”  The elf shouted through grunts of pain.

“Stop it at once, Dobby,” Harry said hating that he had to use the “master’s voice.”

His friend and servant complied and collapsed to the floor.  Scooping the elf up, Harry asked in a worried tone, “Are you okay?”

“Dobby just needs to rest a moment, Harry Potter.”

“Take your time.  Can I have the painting now?  We can still try it,” Harry said, but there was little hope in his voice. The ability for paintings to travel from one frame to the other just didn't seem likely to work since everything else so far failed. 

Dobby removed the frame from the pocket on his tunic and handed it to him.  Harry prepared to be berated by the foul tempered magical shade of the least liked Hogwarts Headmaster in recent history.

The portrait was that of a chair with no one sitting in it.  Harry tapped on the frame with his wand, hoping to summon the wizard, but nothing happened.  Apparently, the magic of the painting was also no match for the impossible distance separating Harry from Earth.

Seeing the empty frame made Harry miserable.  The letdown, on some level, was just as bad as the stares and the whispers at Hogwarts he’d endured during his final months there.  Dumbledore had made a good effort, but it had fallen woefully short.  There’d be another attempt, but Harry doubted that even magic had a solution to his dilemma. 

Still covered by the invisibility cloak, Harry sat down on the very same bench he’d used after killing Bellatrix Lestrange and cradled the elf in his lap like a toddler.  He fought back the urge to cry or scream.  It didn’t serve any purpose, but it did leave him feeling empty and alone…well not quite alone.

“Is Harry Potter not able to go home to England?” the elf asked with a tired and weak sounding voice.

“Looks that way, Dobby.”

“Dobby is sad for Harry Potter, but happy that Dobby is with his master once more and knows that Winky will come soon.  He feels like he should punish himself, but knows that Greatest Master of All, Harry Potter would not want this.”

As bleak as things looked, Dobby’s statement gave Harry some small measure of hope.  Dumbledore knew he wasn’t dead.  The two veils combined to make a one way door between worlds.

“You’re right. I don’t want you to punish yourself ever,” Harry answered.  “Dobby, have you ever heard of another object like the veil in the Department of Mysteries?”

“Dobby has not.”

“But maybe the people at this museum have.  I’m guessing that there’s another portal that can take us back.  We just have to find it.  Let’s go back and get some rest.  I’ll finally get to see what this place looks like in the daylight.  Hang on, I’ll apparate us back to my room.  No matter what, I’m happy to see you, Dobby.”

His words seemed to cheer the elf up, even if it didn’t do much for him.


“Hey!  I’m talking to you Edmondson.”

Maggie was sitting on the edge of the fountain in the school courtyard fumbling through her binder trying to find the assignment she needed to complete before the afternoon class.  She’d been hung over for most of yesterday and missed the festival for Poseidon, sleeping it off and ignoring her schoolwork.

Looking up, she saw Rachel Talbot in all her fury.  “What do you want?”

“That vase.  The one you broke at my house was worth two hundred cubits.  I’d like to know when I’ll be getting payment.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember breaking anything.” 

This was a factual statement.

“Maybe if you didn’t get shitfaced, you would.” 

Unfortunately, this was also true, as the headache she had the following morning proved.

“Do you have a recording of me doing this?  Even a still picture?”

Maggie knew the vid system was disabled and the unspoken rule of unsupervised parties was “no pictures.”

“Just pay up, you dirty Virgon lowlife,” They were starting to attract attention.

Pasting an innocent look on her face, she said, “When you put it so nicely…no.  Wait, let me reconsider…oh sorry.  The answer is still no.”

“Don’t frak with me, offworld trash,” Rachel hissed and got real close, trying to intimidate her.  Maggie sized the girl up.  She was much taller and a runner, but she was also kind of prissy.  On the other hand, Maggie and her two sisters grew up in a group family where the other five children were all boys.

Standing up, Maggie said, “Sorry, you’re not my type.  Besides if the rumors are true, I’d have to update my shots when we were done.”

Several in the crowd let out low whistles and edged closer sensing a fight.

“You should talk, little miss biker girl.  From what I hear, you’re a skanky v-tramp who won’t dare try anything in the real world.  What’s wrong?  Know you won’t measure up or something?  Why don’t you go slip on your glasses and let Cyrus blow binary code all over your face.  You Virgons are all talk and no action.”

That struck a raw nerve, but Maggie didn’t give in to the urge to beat the girl into the ground.

“Rachel knows I’m not going to pay.  She’s trying to goad me into throwing the first punch.”

“Whatever you say, Rachel.  I’m proud to be from Virgon and not some jungle animal in heat like you.  It’s a good thing you have legs Talbot, otherwise they’d be following you around with a mop and a bucket cleaning up your slime trail.”

Maggie was still mentally patting herself on the back for her insult when Rachel’s hand slapped her across her cheek hard enough to make her see stars.

The crowd probably expected a full on catfight with hair pulling.  Maggie Edmondson grew up in a group family with five brothers.  She fought like a boy.  Bringing her hands up as a distraction, she kicked Talbot in the shin as hard as she could and Rachel screamed in pain.  Grabbing the off balance girl, Maggie pull and spun her opponent into the fountain.

Looking down at the sputtering and infuriated girl she said, “If you’re the best Caprica offers, I’m not impressed.”

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Author Notes:

Many reviewers were concerned that I’m making Harry’s magic weaker.   It’s not happening, but Harry has nothing to compare himself to and when his Muggle repeller wasn’t working correctly, he began to worry that his magic was the problem.   As for Maggie, I used the US Olympic vaulter and her "I’m not impressed" meme as an inspiration.   More on that next chapter.   As always, visit for information on my original works.   Thanks for reading.