FicWad

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Star Trek. For that matter, I don't own much of anything except a lot of debt. If I could claim the two series and all their spin-offs, I would. So please don't sic the law demons on me ok?


Chapter 5: Wizard Hunting

As soon as Harry, Winona and Peter arrived at the Kirk family farm, Harry asked for a meeting in the living room. Since Winona was his guardian for the foreseeable future, the Statute of Secrecy, which he had been doing his best to uphold up until now, allowed him to inform his immediate family about Wizards and Magic. The truth, this time, and not the flimsy stories he'd been feeding the Enterprise crew and the Starfleet doctors.

Harry told Winona and Peter about growing up with the Dursleys, about their seemingly irrational hatred of him. He told them about turning his teacher's hair blue, and Apparating to the roof of the school, hints of his power that he would only later understand. He told them about his eleventh birthday, and recounted Hagrid's revelation of his heritage and his place in this new, magical world.

He told them about Hogwarts, and Voldemort, and the Department of Mysteries, where he ran afoul of the powers of Time and got himself lost.

"The way the rules worked back in Britain, back in my time, every time I cast a spell here I should be getting a warning notice about underage magic, or even a visit from the magical constabulary," Harry explained as his story wound to a close. "I don't know why I'm not. Maybe the rules are different here, or maybe my wand is registering me as almost 287 years old. I don't know, but I do want to keep trying to track down some wizards, and maybe go back to Hogwarts and finish my schooling there."

Peter responses to the full truth of the matter were typical of a twelve year old boy, consisting mostly of variations on, "Let's see some more magic" and "Can you blow something up?" Winona Kirk, on the other hand, was quite a bit more logical about the whole matter. Eventually, when her curiosity had been satisfied she laid down ground rules for Harry, regarding how and where he could use magic. Mostly it consisted of no magic practice in the house without supervision. She told him he could clear out an area in the equipment barn for practice, but if he was going to try something dangerous, she wanted to be there just in case something went wrong so she could get help if needed.

She also agreed to allow him to take a trip to the British Isles at some point in the future, if his attempts to find answers or a magical population more locally didn't pan out.

Once the revelations and rules about magic had been taken care of, Winona informed both Peter and Harry that they were grounded for a week. She sentenced them to clean out the equipment barn by the house without the use of Harry's abilities. In the process, they could find an appropriate space for Harry to practice magic.

Peter had known that the punishment had been coming since the incident on K-7, but Harry asked why he was also being grounded. Winona's response had been "You knew better than to disobey Jimmy's orders, no matter how much my grandson pleaded. You are the older one; you should not have let Peter talk you into that. Besides, you need to learn how a farm works before I let you go off gallivanting in search of what happened to your friends."

While Harry still felt it was a bit unfair to be grounded right away, he really couldn't fault the logic of needing to learn how the farm worked. A life in the suburbs and in a magical castle really wouldn't have prepared him for this.


Cleaning out the equipment barn had been an eye-opening experience. Harry had no idea that so much machinery was needed to grow crops and take care of livestock. Harry took back all the 'Mrs. Filch' comments that he had thought about his grounding and realized that Winona had actually done him a favor. He was going to have his work cut out for him with just learning how to run all this gear if he was ever going to be useful around the farm.

Winona had laid out some specifics on what needed to be done and one of those was to clear out an area where Harry could work on his abilities without damaging the farm equipment. It made a lot of sense, given the fact that Harry didn't want to damage any of the electronics in the home or on any of the farm equipment.

The majority of what Harry and Peter had to do was move all the large equipment out of its storage space and clean the bay that it was stored in. Mostly that consisted of just sweeping out the dust and organizing any peripherals for that piece of equipment so they could easily be found in that particular bay.

On the last Saturday afternoon of their grounding, Harry and Peter were in the underground portion of the barn, where they finally reached the last four equipment bays. Three of the bays were empty, save for thick layers of dust covering the floors and workbenches. The last bay, while just as dirty, had several large tarps covering a rectangular object that was around fifteen feet long. Tarps also covered the shelves and workbench along one wall.

"Harry, this part of the barn looks like a good spot for your magic pract… what is that?" asked Peter. His confusion upon seeing the covered object was understandable, as none of the other equipment in the barn had been stored covered like this.

"I have no idea, Pete," replied Harry. "It might be something old, or delicate, if it’s being stored this carefully. I don't want to risk breaking something, so before we uncover it, let's get the tarps off the workbench and shelves and see what's there. That might give us a clue."

Removing the tarp on the workbench and shelves was easy enough, but the jumbled array of hand tools and boxed parts was a bit confusing at first. Harry looked at a stack of manuals arranged on one of the shelves and gasped. If this was what he thought it was, a true gem laid under the undisturbed tarp in the center of the bay.

"Pete, we're getting that tarp off now. Let's go slowly, and fold it up while were taking it off. If this is what I think it is, we need to be careful so we don't damage it."

"What's under there?" asked Peter. He was confused by the awe and reverence in Harry's voice.

"A classic, Pete. A classic," was all Harry would say in response.

As they folded up the tarp covering the mystery object, Harry kept a tight rein on his emotions. It wouldn't do to have an accidental magic outburst now. The two boys took the folded tarp off the object and looked at it.

Harry gasped and reverently laid a hand on the remains of the emblem on the front end.

Sitting in the center of the bay was a wrecked 1965 Corvette convertible.

The car looked like it had been driven off a cliff, but it was still recognizable as a 'vette.

Harry had kept a very personal secret when he had been back in the twentieth century. When he was about eight years old, he had been hiding from Dudley and his gang during recess and had seen a mid 60's Corvette drive past the school. In the few seconds he had it in view, he had fallen in love with the car and had sworn that one day he would get away from the Dursleys and somehow own one that nobody was ever going to take away.

"What a piece of junk," was Peter's response to seeing the hulk.

Harry looked at Peter like he had grown two heads before responding. "Pete, you have no idea of what a gem this is. Go get your grandmum and have her come here. I want to ask her about this."

As Peter ran off to go get Winona, Harry began to mentally catalogue what it would take to bring the old girl back to life. Since gasoline was no longer used to fuel any vehicles, he wondered if the motor had been adapted to run on hydrogen or some other type of fuel. A classic muscle car like this needed to have the heart-pounding sound and power behind her eye-catching looks. Harry also realized that while he could use magic to help rebuild the car, he'd have to damned careful around any electronics. That part was going to have to be done by hand.

Winona's reaction to seeing the old car had been unexpected. Apparently the car had belonged to her husband before they had met, and it brought back a lot of good memories. She told the boys about how young Jimmy Kirk had taken the car in a fit of teenaged angst after his father had passed away, and had ended up driving it off the bluffs overlooking the Iowa River in the next county over. When Harry and Peter's laughter at the thought of Jim Kirk being a rambunctious teenager stopped, Harry asked if he could make an attempt at restoring the old vehicle. Winona immediately agreed. Harry made a decision: while he might put his heart into restoring the car, it belonged to Winona and she deserved the memories a lot more than he did.


Harry spent his summer learning how the farm worked and getting to know the farmhands who came out to work the fields. He also worked on the restoring the car, and continued to work to get up to speed on the classes he would be taking in the fall at the local school, Highland High. Every evening, after supper, he worked on his magic and tried to attract the attention of any witches or wizards that might be nearby. It was frustrating that he never got a response.

When he was finishing unpacking several days after arriving in Iowa, Harry had found, at the bottom of his pack, the bundle of clothing he'd been wearing when he'd been blasted out of the twentieth century, including his Hogwarts robe. Wrapped up in the middle of the bundle was the small, glass prophecy sphere from the Department of Mysteries. He'd not messed with it before, either on the Enterprise or on the transport back to Earth, since he didn't know how much active magic it might put out and he didn't want to fry any of the ships' systems. He'd forgotten all about it until now.

After Winona was told the story behind the object, she asked to join him in the equipment barn when he tried to activate it. Since this was an unknown magical object, it fell under her instructions about doing anything potentially dangerous.

Fortunately, all it took was a simple tap with Harry's wand to start the playback. Harry recognized the voice; it was his Divination professor, and specifically, it was the same voice she'd used back in third year for the prophecy about Wormtail. This prophecy was, if anything, even more disturbing, and it left Harry with more questions than answers.

On evenings that he didn't try to get noticed by witches and wizards, Harry went through as many informational databases as possible looking for any indications of what may have happened to the Wizarding world. Peter was invaluable help with this. Having grown up with this technology, the younger boy seemed to be able to coax the databases to give up most insignificant data imaginable. They were able to find several references to odd events that could be attributed to Wizards, if looked at in the proper way, but those seemed to taper off after the first contact with the Vulcans had occurred. Based on what could be found, there wasn't anything that resembled Wizarding activity being recorded in the past one hundred years or so.

This left Harry wondering about the reasons for that silence, both with regards to his own attempts to attract attention and in the world at large. Magical society, in Britain at least, had been around for millennia when he was born; could that have changed in the less than three centuries he'd missed out on? Or were the Wizards out there, still hiding from the Muggle world, but detecting his displays and registering him as actually well over two hundred and eighty years old? It was also possible that there were simply no underage magic rules in North America. Or it could be that the Wizarding world packed up and left Earth as soon as they could, leaving the Muggle world behind.

All in all, the whole situation bothered him. There was one other option, one that Harry all but refused to contemplate; maybe Moldyshorts had won and had destroyed the Wizarding world in the process, leaving Harry the last Wizard on Earth.


As August wound down, Winona made sure that both Peter and Harry were ready for the beginning of school on the twenty-sixth. They had been registered at the combination middle and high school and had all their supplies. In town, Harry had wanted to find an old fashioned quill and inkpot, if for nothing else to remind him of his friends and time at Hogwarts. He settled for an antique fountain pen that was unique enough to have been something that Dumbledore might have used.

On the twenty-sixth, Harry went to his first class of the day, homeroom. Highland had set up the students' class schedules so that the first week of school they had a homeroom period of around 30 minutes or so, then their regular classes. After that first week they only had a single homeroom period once a week. It was during this class that Harry's nickname of 'Gramps' came back and stuck with him through the rest of high school.

Al Groschider had been a teacher at Highland High School for almost thirty years. He'd seen all sorts of pranks played by students, and generally enjoyed them. However, during the first week of school he didn't put up with them, as it was time to get back into the swing of things, not play around.

Harry knocked on the doorframe to Mr. Groschiders classroom. He'd been delayed at the office as they had some issues with his records and schedule that took a few extra minutes to clear up.

"Oh hello, come in," greeted Mr. Groshider. He had heard that he was getting a new student today. Transfers in and out of this small-town school were fairly rare, and were usually due to parents moving out of town for a few years then coming back.

"Umm…sorry bout that. I didn't mean to be late. I was held up in the office for a few minutes," Harry explained, his English accent more pronounced that normal.

Several of the young ladies in the class giggled at his accent. Not in a cruel manner, as if to make fun of him, but more in a way that implied they thought that it was cute and made him something of a mystery.

"That's okay, have a seat over there… Mr. Potter." He waived to an empty desk by the ladies that were giggling over Harry's accent.

Harry sat down at the desk, a small smile gracing his features. He knew that what was about to happen was the kind of prank that the Weasley twins would have loved. A prank by telling the truth.

Mr. Grosheider began to review the paperwork that covered Harry's basics in the school.

"Harry James Potter…Guardian is Winona Kirk…Birthdate, July 31, 1980… Tested out of English…Taking stand….Wait a second, 1980!?!?" exclaimed Mr. Grosheider.

"Mr. Potter, this is a joke, Right?"

"No sir, that's my birthday," said Harry seriously.

"Somebody put you up to this, there’s no way you could be almost three hundred years old. I'm going to call the office and get this straightened out." He firmly believed that he was being set up.

Mr. Grosheider called the office and while the class couldn't hear the conversation it was obvious that Harry had been telling the truth. Mr. Grosheider's face got paler and paler by the minute. He was still on the com with the office when the bell rang to send the students to class. One of the girls that had been sitting by him broke out laughing at the look on the homeroom teacher's face after they had gone out of the room.

"Hey, Gramps, that was beautiful. You're going to be fun to be around," said Kim Mertins as she walked next to Harry.

"Yep, that it was," responded Harry. He decided that high school looked like it was going to be fun. No Dudley. No Draco. No Snape. No Boy-Who-Lived expectations.

Just Harry.


"Peter you know I'm going to do this. I need to know what happened. I mean I know what the history disks say and I know what happened to Hermione, but what about everyone else? It's a big blank spot that I need to try to fill. If there are any records, England is where I am going to find them." The frustration of not knowing what happened after his jaunt through time was clearly evident in Harry's voice.

"I know Har, but I just want to go with you. It sounds like fun to me," Peter pleaded.

"Pete, it wouldn't be fun for you if you came along. Hell, it's not going to be fun for me. I'll be spending the whole trip in the library in London, going over records, with my nose in a stack of books taller than the tree out back. I'm not planning on taking any sightseeing trips or running around Piccadilly Circus. Besides, I know that Nana won't let you run around London unsupervised. It's not like going into town for groceries. London can be dangerous. Alright?" Harry explained to the younger boy.

Harry knew this to be a bit of a lie. While yes he was going to be in the London Central Library for a good piece of this first trip to England, trying to find Diagon Alley, St. Mungos, or even the Ministry of Magic was something he didn't want anyone else to find out about.

"Once I've gotten answers, or no answers but things make a bit more sense to me, I'll bring you and Nana both along to show you around the area and give you the grand tour of what old London was like," Harry promised.

"Well, okay. But Harry, have you talked with Nana about going yet? She'd have you cleaning the barn out with a toothbrush if you didn't ask about going first. She worries enough about Uncle Jim as it is with him hopping galaxies like grandpa did. 'Sides, she's not going to let you go till your homework is caught up. You did get it done, didn't you?" Peter stared at Harry, one eyebrow going up towards his hairline.

Harry turned fully and looked at Peter. He wondered if Mr. Spock had taught him that look. He'd seen it often enough in the Enterprise sickbay when Dr. McCoy said something to Spock that seemed totally illogical on the surface, but on deeper inspection was ruthlessly logical.

"Well, not yet. I was going to talk with her about it this afternoon. Your grandmother can be a bit intimidating at times, you know? With fall break coming up in a couple of weeks I was kinda hoping to ease her into the idea of letting me go." Harry explained while turning back to his homework. He wasn't kidding about Winona Kirk being a bit intimidating at times. She reminded him of Molly Weasley: loving and caring for her children, but when they got out of line, the saber-toothed tiger showed up.

Peter, being the more studious of the two teens, just shook his head at his foster brother's procrastination. He was quite a bit like Hermione, in academics at least, but he did know how to relax and at times had a mischievous streak that would have put the Weasley twins to shame. "Just remember that you have to have that biology report finished before break. You've put that off long enough."

"Yes, Mother," Harry quipped. Harry wondered if Peter was some relation to Hermione with the way he harped on getting homework done at times.


Surprisingly enough, getting permission to go to London for fall break wasn't as hard as Harry had thought it would be. Winona Kirk had been expecting this since that first night, when Harry had told them his story. She insisted that he follow some rules while he was gone, but they were easy enough to obey: no drinking, call in every night, and don't get into trouble with the local authorities. However, she did have one request that surprised Harry a bit.

"Harry, I don't mind you going in the least bit. I really did expect you to ask back during the summer. While I can't pretend to know what you have been going through, I expect I would be doing the same thing in your shoes, trying to find out what happened to my friends." She gave Harry a knowing look. Turning back to the sink to wash some more beans, she continued. "You know the rules that I laid down and I do expect them to be followed, but there is one thing that I would like you to do while you're there."

"What's that, Nana?" Harry asked from the table. He had taken to calling Winona by the same name that Peter did. She seemed to like it and actually encouraged it at times.

"Find out what happened to the Dursleys if you can. I know that you didn't like them and they didn't treat you well, but as much as I hate to say it, they were your last remaining family. You probably don't want to even think about them, but I'd like to know what happened to them. Maybe they got what they truly deserved, like jail time, or something. Heck, maybe they were London when the war broke out. Who knows? But dear, I would like to know, if you think you can manage it."

The intensity in her voice killed Harry's initial urge to refuse, loudly. She really wanted to know what had become of the Dursleys, and he had a feeling that if it were possible to go back in time, she would, just to give them a piece of her mind and probably her cast iron skillet across their heads for good measure.

Harry looked at the notes he had received earlier from the farm hands for a minute, thinking about it. Finally, he responded, "Okay, I'll try and look up the Dursleys as well. IF, and I do mean if, they did somehow manage to continue on and their family is still around. I'll find out all I can. But I am not contacting them if I can at all help it."

Winona had never gotten the full story on how the Dursleys had treated Harry, but the disgust was evident. She wondered if Harry had been abused by them, more than just the vague allusions Harry had made to his poor treatment. If so, she hoped that karma had caught up with them and they had paid for their actions.

"That's all I can ask for Harry. Just remember, you have a home here and no matter what, you'll always be welcome."


Harry's trip to London wasn't too bad. Nana took him to Davenport, where he hopped a shuttle to Chicago. After a two hour wait, he took a public transporter to London. The moment he materialized on his home soil, he began to feel… well, odd for lack of a better term. He didn't really feel sick or anything. It was just a general feeling of uneasiness, and a desire to get his business completed and get out of England, more than anything else. At first, Harry wrote the feeling off to his nervousness.

After checking into his hotel for the week, Harry went out and got a map of modern London. He went to the London central library and began looking in the map room. He specifically went to the maps of London that were from his time. By matching up coordinates, Harry attempted to mark on the tourist map the locations where he believed the Leaky Cauldron, St. Mungo's, and the Ministry of Magic had been. He also marked down the location of Kings Cross station, as it had been rebuilt in the same location. He should be able to find platform nine and three-quarters with no problems. This project took him several hours to compile and double-check his research. When he was finished, it was dinner time so he grabbed some Chinese take-away and went back to his room for the night.

Early the next morning, Harry set off for Kings Cross. He felt that, of all the places that he was going to investigate, this one would be the easiest to find. Getting to the station was easy enough but that's when his first clue that something had gone drastically wrong with the wizarding world reared its head. Platform nine and three-quarters no longer existed. He'd been looking around the station when one of the Bobbies had spoken with him about what he was doing. Harry explained to the officer that he was working on a school project about the station and had heard rumors about a hidden set of tracks.

The Bobbie chuckled at that and took Harry to see a member of station management. The manager had been pleased with Harry's inquisitiveness and had taken him to a section of the station that had been converted to a small museum. While it was currently closed for renovation, the manager took Harry in anyway. He explained that the Hidden Track was no rumor, but had been real. When the nuclear blasts had gone off over London, the station had been heavily damaged, as well as seriously contaminated by fallout.

As he spoke, he led Harry to a large display window. The track, he explained, had actually been about thirty feet or so under the platform, between the old tracks nine and ten. The remains of what was found on that track were on display behind the window. The manager opened up an electrical box and turned on the display lights.

Inside the display were the partially crushed remains of the Hogwarts express. The man informed Harry that the ceiling had collapsed in this part of the old station, and while it hadn't killed anyone, the locomotive and carriages that were parked on this track were still highly radioactive after two hundred years. Harry thanked the manager and quietly left the station, shocked that the Express was gone, and on display in a Muggle museum.


After leaving Kings Cross station, Harry wandered towards Parliament, more in a daze than through any conscious direction. By the time he had shaken himself out of his funk, he realized that he was in the general vicinity of where he believed the entrance of the Ministry of Magic had been.

Harry began to look around the area in the hopes of finding an entrance, but wasn't really expecting to find one. He realized that his chances of finding an entrance were very slim as most of London had been rebuilt in the past two hundred and fifty years. Even if the Ministry were still in the same place, hidden under his feet, there were no telephone boxes on the streets anymore. As he had expected, the area had been totally rebuilt and he was unable to locate anything that even hinted at the presence of a magical government facility.

Not knowing of anything better to do at the time, he went to the central library of London to try and look up the Weasleys.

One of the Librarians, an elderly thin man by the name of Jackson, assisted Harry looking through the databases. He found several mentions of what he believed were Weasley descendents, mostly in transport manifests for colonies. Harry was happy that it appeared that some of the Weasleys had managed to survive and were still going strong, but he wondered if these were witches and wizards, or if they were squibs.

The next day, Harry decided to try and find out if St. Mungo's had managed to survive, and if not, try to find Diagon Alley. Harry figured that if something from the Wizarding world had survived, it would be there. After all, Olivander's had been in business since well before Hogwarts had been built and located in the same area for over two thousand years. He hoped he could find something in one of these areas.

With St. Mungo's, he had no luck. The area that he had identified as the location had been completely rebuilt. Instead of an abandoned building, he found a bustling office complex of modern design. Disappointed, Harry decided to not lose hope and headed to where he believed Diagon Alley should still be.

When he arrived where he thought the alley should be, there was no street of tightly-packed buildings concealing the area from view, and no pubs with magical-sounding names hiding the entrance. Instead, he found a large, grassy park. The entrance had an iron archway with the name 'Remembrance Park'.

Harry walked through the park, stunned that there was no indication of the former Wizarding occupants of the site. At the far end of the park Harry approached a set of large white marble boulders. Based on his memories, this was the area where Gringotts should have been. Attached to the largest boulder was a large bronze engraving with the inscription:

Gringotts Stones

Dedicated to all those who perished in the nuclear attack of August 1, 2060

"Constant Vigilance is the Price of Freedom"

Beneath the inscription was a stylized Phoenix rising from a pool of fire.

Luckily no one else was in the park at the time, as Harry, in a fit of rage, sadness and frustration, drew his wand conjured up a target and let loose with the strongest Reducto spell he could. The target disintegrated, leaving almost no trace of its existence.

No sooner than Harry had created the target he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and had the feeling he was being watched. The uneasy feeling he had been experiencing since his arrival in England grew dramatically, to the point that he had the urge to get out of England as soon as humanly possible.

Harry sat down at the base of one of the boulders, looking around as if trying to spot the danger his senses were warning him about. The feeling began to diminish after a few minutes, and he wondered if this was some sort of new warning system from the Ministry. He decided to wait around to see if he received a notice from the Ministry or if an Auror showed up to check out what was going on. After about a half hour or so of waiting, he didn't receive any indications that anything was going to happen. The only thing that he did notice was that the desire to leave was still there but had dropped in intensity to almost what it had been when he first arrived in England. The feeling of being watched was still there as well, but it was very faint. It was similar to the feelings one would get at a store where there had been a lot of robberies.

Harry looked closely at the marker one last time before leaving the park. He noticed two things about it. The first thing was the quote. It was incorrect. He had read that quote when getting caught up on his education on the Enterprise. The quote he had read started with Eternal not Constant. The other thing he spotted was a small engraving in one corner of the marker stating that the marker had been presented on July 31, 2070 by the Order of the Phoenix.

Despite his fit of anger earlier, Harry left the park with a lighter heart. The Order had survived until the 2070's, and the misquote on the marker meant that someone who had known or had been trained by 'Mad Eye' Moody had been around to put that marker in place.

The remainder of Harry's time in London was spent in the central library. He had decided not to go up to Hogwarts on this trip, as he wanted to have as much time to explore as possible and he only had a week in England on this trip. As he had general idea of what had happened to the Weasleys, Harry decided to try looking up the others that had been in the Department of Mysteries with him. In addition to the picture of Hermione that Lt. McGivers had shown him on the Enterprise, he found records indicating that her doctorate had been in Psychiatry, and there was a license to practice in Australia and the States from the early Twenty First century, but that was all. He didn't find anything on Neville or Luna, but since they were Purebloods, he hadn't expected to find anything in Muggle records unless their descendents had decided to leave Earth like some of the Weasleys had apparently done.

The day before he was supposed to leave England, Harry finally gritted his teeth and set out to look up the Dursleys, as his guardian had asked him to. He found the death certificates and obituaries for Vernon, Petunia and Dudley. Apparently Vernon had passed away in the early twenty-first century of a heart attack, and Petunia had outlasted Vernon by about twenty years before a stroke had taken her.

Dudley, on the other hand had apparently had a decent enough career as a boxer, but had really made a name for himself as a trainer. There were even some books on the subject that he had written, which had left Harry sniggering when he saw them. He hadn't thought Dudley could write well enough to create something that others would want to read without a gun or wand against their heads.

Surprisingly enough, Dudley had married and had a fairly large family. Tracing those relations down had taken time to do, but he found some descendents were still around in the twenty third century. The most shocking discovery had been that the old librarian, who had been so helpful and kind when Harry had been researching what had happened to the Weasleys, was actually Jackson Dursley, a direct descendent of Dudley.

Despite Harry's declaration to Winona, he decided to talk to Jackson and see how things went.

Harry walked up to the desk where the old man was working on some paperwork and cleared his throat to get his attention.

"Yes, how may I... Oh! Hello, Harry. How are you doing this fine afternoon?" asked Jackson cheerfully.

"Not too bad, sir, but I have some questions about some things that I found and I wondered if you could help me out." He was nervous about how Jackson was going to react when he showed him what he had found.

"Certainly, my boy. Show me what you've dug up and I'll try to clarify things."

Harry took Jackson to the alcove that he had been working in and showed him the Genealogy items that he had arranged on the desk.

"All very interesting, but why are you showing me my family history? And another thing, why do you have Lily Evans, James Potter and Harry Potter circled on your worksheet. Is there something about them that I am missing?" asked Jackson in a curious voice.

Harry took a deep breath before speaking. "Yes sir, there is. While Lily and James are dead, I'm not. I'm Harry Potter. Please sir, let me explain myself before you make any judgments."

"Please do, I'm extremely curious as to your claim to be Harry, and if that is true, how you're still a teenager," said a skeptical yet inquisitive Jackson.

Harry had decided to use the cover story that Starfleet had come up with to protect the secret of the Guardian. He explained that as an orphan he had been selected to be part of one of the first sleeper ship colonization efforts by the UN. Since it was all a secret project, the participants were listed as deceased or were listed in records as runaways if they were under the age of 18. The ship he had been on was named the S.S. Winston Churchill and had been only recently found. The Enterprise had found it drastically off course and many hundreds of light years from its destination. From what could be determined, the ship had been struck by and asteroid during its flight and Harry's hibernation pod was the only one still functioning after two hundred and fifty years.

Jackson sat back in his chair and smiled. "Harry, I had always wondered what happened to that branch of the family and now I know. I am so glad I got to meet you…nephew."

Harry smiled back. He now knew that he had relatives here in the twenty-third century, and at least one accepted him.

Harry and Jackson spent the remainder of the afternoon and a large part of the evening talking and getting to know one another. Harry wished that he had more time on this trip to reconnect with the first decent relative he'd ever met, but he was leaving first thing in the morning.

The next morning Jackson showed up at Harry's hotel room. He insisted on taking Harry to breakfast and then to the transporter terminal.

While waiting for Harry's turn to leave, Jackson let him in on a bit of family lore that made Harry glad that he had gotten to reconnect with Jackson.

"Harry, I took a look through some of the old family scrapbooks last night. I thought you might want to know why I believe that Dudley got out of boxing and into training," Jackson said.

"Oh? Why was that?" a curious Harry asked.

"Dudley's last fight almost killed him. He was in hospital for several weeks in a coma. Later on, he said he would have gotten back into the ring again, except for one thing. He claimed that his youngest daughter and his cousin Harry came to visit him while he was in that coma. Dudley swore till the day he died that Annie said she was giving up what made her special to save her daddy, and that Harry appealed to him to not be like Vernon and use his 'hard head' to help others. The problem with this was that Annie was only about fifteen months old and…well, you were already in hibernation."

Harry sat back and pondered this. Was Annie a witch that somehow gave up her powers to save Dudley? I wonder.

"I'm glad you told me that. I have no idea if my spirit, soul or whatever was able to talk to Dudley, or if his unconscious mind just dreamed me up. I'm just glad that he thought enough of me to believe that I helped him become a better man than he seemed destined to be when we were children."

Just then the speakers in the terminal announced that the window for people to transport to Chicago was opening and all those going to Chicago should get into the proper queues.

Harry hugged Jackson and said with a smile "I'll make sure to keep in touch, Uncle Jack."

"You do that Harry. Have a good trip back."

With that Harry stepped into the area for his transport back to the States and his home.