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PART 13: HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN, JIGITY JIG


July 1 85, 03:32 AM:

~Home!~ Harry sighed as he glimpsed his new home from far above. The flight from the hidden island off the coast of Southampton to southeastern Cambridge, had been draining, especially as he had to ensure the military didn’t get a sniff. The Doodlebug was bad enough, but the My Little, would be an opportunistic general’s wet dream! As during the flight the month before, My Little’s shields should prevent that, but then, radar hadn’t been used for more than six hundred years before she was built and while he was mostly sure her shields were proof against such…‘primitive technology’, there was no reason to take unnecessary chances. Therefore he made the entire two hundred-fifty plus mile trip at a nerve stretching fifty feet from the ground.


Now, several hours after he’d started out, he scanned the area for any threats. Below him was a two-story fieldstone house on a large lot, at the end of a long cul-de-sac off Hinton Way. Trees all along the lane and around the back of the property shielded it from casual observation. The best thing though, was that the lot was next to another home. A home that Harry knew well, from the years he lived there with Hermione. 32 Candyfloss Court. He never failed to chuckle at the address, given the Granger’s occupation.

He triggered the doors, and the huge leaves slowly lifted upward and slid out of the way, exposing the newly constructed hangar beneath. The My Little began to descend.


The house he had in mind had been placed for sale several months before, as the former owners were getting on in years, and wanted a smaller place by the seaside to spend their retirement. Their many children had all grown and married with families of their own and the house was rattlingly empty. It also had a back garden nearly two hundred feet long by about a hundred wide… large enough to hide the ‘My Little’. In his previous life, after he and Hermione had married, and adopted their first group of children, he’d bought the place and joined it with his home, giving his fostered children an extended home to live, play, learn, love, and grow in.

He’d contacted Graswold and had them place a bid for the unoccupied property. When he’d offered one of the Potter properties in Sidlesham, near the southernmost coast of England, the McComb’s had jumped at the deal. Since the little seaside home was worth roughly the same as the property in Cambridge, Harry offered a simple swap. He took care of the legal fees for both, and within days was the new owner of #34 Candyfloss Court.


He’d immediately set to work, first placing ward-stones around both properties, and setting and activating nearly a hundred different wards; everything from simple insect repelling wards to protect the wood in the houses, to anti-apparation/anti-portkey wards, to a ward that prevented the ministry from knowing magic had been used in or around the homes, and when that was done he began to dig a tunnel from the cellar to the back garden. From there, he opened a large chamber, reinforced it heavily as he went, plated the resultant cavern with heavy metal shielding and added interlocking metal panels above, supported by huge movable struts that would allow the doors to open and close. Auto-diagnostics and maintenance systems followed and his ‘secret underground lair’ was complete.

In a rare moment of childish humour, he’d named it the ‘book-cave’, and painted a book with batwings on the wall.

Now, as the My Little settled onto the metal floor, he triggered the heavy leaves over head and waited a few seconds while they closed over the little starship.

Asking ‘Mione to shut the ship’s systems down, he left the control seat, ambled aft, checking status displays as he went, descended through the airlock to the lower deck and from then down the extruded ram to the hangar. A thought and the ramp melded again with the ship’s hull, leaving not the slightest line or crack to indicate there had been a doorway there at all.

******
July 1 85, 03:35 AM:

Five year old Hermione Granger woke in the very early morning, to an odd humming noise. She sat up in her bed and looked out her window to see a magnificent, and quite alien looking spaceship descending toward the ground.

Snatching up the little camera her father had given her for her last birthday; she began snapping pictures as fast as she could. The film ran out just as the mystery vessel sank past large metal panels covered with soil and grass. The huge doors slid into place over the spaceship…and then, all was quiet.

Hermione had a hard time getting back to sleep that morning.


At breakfast she babbled on in excitement about the huge alien spaceship she saw the night before. To prove her point, she handed the camera to her father and asked him to have the photo’s developed.


A week later, the prints were done. There, well framed, were images of…nothing identifiable. It was Hermione’s unique nature that allowed her to see the little starship at all. For non-magical eyes, the shields around the My Little produced her invisibility by bending light around the ship. As photographs did nothing more than record the light, the camouflage was effective. However, due to the bending effect, there was distortion in a regular pattern. Judith enjoyed stargazing on the nights when weather conditions permitted it, and noticed immediately that the stars being occluded were out of position by several degrees. Clearly, there was something there.

But what?

The only clear thing they could see were the massive doors in the ground. Those weren’t so well protected. On the other hand, how would one ask the neighbors to investigate? Somehow they didn’t think: ‘Our daughter saw an alien spaceship land in a hidden underground hangar in your back garden. Can we have a quick look?’ would quite cut it.



******
July 30 85:

Harry looked up from his morning’s paper when the hologramme appeared. He sighed in pleasure. His wife was as beautiful as the day he married her.

‘She’ smiled at him. “Harry, the nanites are ready.”

“OK.” He replied. “I’ll be right down.”

He stood, set his paper on the table and headed for the stairs.

******

Ascending through the grav shaft, he entered the My Little’s living area. Turning into the med bay he found the autoinjector waiting with two little capsules.

“Thank you, Mione. How long before the nanites are finished?”

“Five to six months, depending on the damage. I’d expect closer to six.”

“Good enough. Thank you.” He picked up the tools and popped away.

“Any time Harry.” The AI replied softly. She turned her attention to the difficult and involved task of creating a serum to eliminate the evil potion in the Longbottoms’ blood.

******

Appearing silently in the Janus Thickey ward, Harry sent the healer into a light doze and stepped to Frank’s side, inserting the sealed capsule into the injector. Tipping the comatose man’s neck back he located the large vein there, pushed the device against Franks skin and pressed the trigger, and with a faint hiss, many millions of nanites entered Frank’s bloodstream.

Turning to Alice he did the same.

Over the next several months, the nanites would repair the damage that overexposure to the Cruciatus, had done to their nervous systems. In time, he’d return with the necessary medicines to dispel the potion Dumbledore had forced into them.

He whispered: “Happy Birthday, Neville.” before he popped away.



******


In the end, Malfoy's task was easy. On the thirty first of August, Snape guided Lucius through the school, bypassed the security around the Student intake book, and stepped aside. Lucius quickly copied down all the filthy mudbloods’ names for the next ten years, and inside an hour, the two of them were back in Severus’ quarters having a drink.

Dumbledore felt the aristocratic Death Eater’s presence, but as Snape had surmised, he was far too busy to attend the matter personally. He sent Minerva, who dutifully reported that Malfoy had toured the school and was now having a drink with Severus.

Dumbledore nodded, satisfied that his spy had his ‘former associate’ in hand, and put the matter out of his head.



PART 14: INTEGRATION


On September second, Harry apparated to the school Hermione attended, wearing a glamour to make himself look like a healthy, if tired, Sirius Black

Climbing the steps and entering the school he wandered down the hallway, stopping once for directions to the administrative center. The custodian offered to escort him, as new security procedures and been enacted to protect the students. He watched as Harry knocked at the door marked ‘Administration’, and let himself in.

“Good morning, Sir.” A secretary greeted the tall, handsome and obviously well-off gentleman.

“Good morning. I’m Sirius Black.”

“Hello, Mister Black. I’m Grace Bealle, assistant director and chief secretary.” She smiled at the absurd title.

‘Sirius’ grinned too. “And hello, to you too, Miss Bealle.”

“How may I help you today?”

“I’ve just rescued my godson from the authorities. I was in the states doing some research at Los Alamos, when they contacted me. My best friends James and Lily Potter were killed in a terrorist attack in Anglesey four years ago. I should have been contacted immediately, but somehow, it appears little Harry had slipped through the cracks of the child welfare system. The police discovered that he’d been placed in a thoroughly unsuitable foster home in Little Whinging, when a rather powerful explosion destroyed the place. In fact, there is sufficient evidence to show he was badly abused there.”

“What!?!”

“He was found chained to a tree during a heavy thunderstorm. It’s thought they were brewing methamphetamines, and somehow a lightning strike exploded the stuff.” Harry threw that in, just in case Dumbledore was ever able to find and restore the Dursleys. In that unlikely event, their reputation would be shite.

“Good heavens!” Miss Bealle gasped.

“Yes. Were it not for the fact that he was behind that tree, he’d be as dead as they are. As it was, the fire brigade had to dig him out from underneath it. He was in a very bad way for the longest time. The court contacted me, and I have taken custody of him, and settled here in Cambridge. I wish to enroll him in primary here.”

“You do realise this is a school for gifted children don’t you?”

“Mmmhmm. Here’s the assessment.” He handed over a manila folder with the results of the battery of tests he’d taken over the past two months. Careful memory charms would only reveal that the examiners had evaluated a badly injured child in a hospital room, and said child had far exceeded their expectations.

Another folder provided by Gringotts…for a small fee, of course, contained the legal documents legitimizing his claim to Harry.

Miss Bealle opened the folder and nearly cried out in shock. According to this assessment, Harry was as smart as their stellar performer, Hermione Granger!

Harry smirked as she read. He had no reason to fudge the results. Even as a child he’d been quite intelligent, but under the Dursley’s influence, he’d quickly learned not to out-perform their precious Diddy-Dumpling. That said dumpling, was about as bright as one, didn’t help. Harry could only dumb himself down so much.


Miss Bealle was breathing hard as she finished reading. Harry was top two percentile in math’s, and sciences. He had what appeared to be an instinctive understanding of upper level mathematics and could calculate complex formulae in his head. In English he was top three percentile, both read and written, with a comprehension of one hundred percent and a retention of nearly that! He’d also studied business administration and politics extensively, and spoke seven different languages, as well as sign…painted on canvas and played three different musical instruments! She was just about drooling in rapture. Such students as Harry and Hermione could show the world that special abilities schools such at this, were vitally needed…not just for technological and humanities advancement, but also for government and business administration. It would show that such schools could not only work, but could produce the next generation’s leaders, whereas such schools as Harvard, Yale and yes, even Cambridge and Eton, were more interested in showing their students the ‘right’ clothing to wear in order to show off their social status, and making the ‘right’ connexions for later politicking.

She managed to calm her heartbeat long enough to ask: “As you wish. His name?”

“Harry James Potter.”


Harry set to filling out the numerous forms required to enroll a student. He provided authentic shot records, and when Miss Bealle asked why the dates were all within the past three months, he told her that according to his blood tests, the Dursleys never even bothered to have him immunized.

From the glare he caught, he was glad his name wasn’t Dursley.

“What kind of animals were they?” She literally snarled.

“Dead ones, thank heavens, or I’d be in prison and they’d be…well, dead.”

‘Sirius’ left the attractive administrator, saying Harry was still getting used to walking again, but would be there on the first of the month.

******

Harry spent the next few days working on his ‘camouflage’. Since the word would be out that he’d been crushed under a tree, he’d have broken bones. Though the casts would have been removed, he’d need something to disguise his ability to walk freely…and it would have to be sufficiently impressive to demonstrate his guardian, Sirius Black, was a master-brain as well. He came up with a variation of the powered exoskeleton that planetary evaluation teams used in heavy gravity environments.

Just for added authenticity, he added braces for his back and left arm, as well.



PART 15: MARAUDING


September 26th 85: morning


On the morning of the twenty sixth, Harry wrote out a short letter to Sirius.


Setting the letter on the desk, he addressed the communications interface to the My Little and asked ‘Mione to programme a spy-eye to orbit the play park in Little Whinging for the next week or until recalled, and inform him when Sirius arrived. He fully expected Remus to be there as well.

Receiving an acknowledgement from the ship’s AI, he transformed into one of his animagus forms, a sparhawk he called ‘Swift’. He picked up the letter and took flight.

******

On the morning of September twenty sixth, Sirius Black was sitting in his rather comfortable ministry-supplied apartment at the top of Diagon Alley, wondering what to do with his life, when a nearly black sparhawk flew in clutching a letter. It screeched at him and waited, its leg outthrust.

“Hello, there!” He greeted the black bird with the grey dappled breast.


While most people used owls, raptors of all sorts were intelligent birds, and hawks were among the brightest, so Sirius could easily understand it’s being used for delivering post.

“Would you like some water, or something to eat?”

The bird bobbed its head, so Sirius stood and poured some water into a cup.

As soon a he had, the bird flew to the windowsill and alit there, to wait, which made him raise an eyebrow. Most owls waited wherever they were. He’d definitely have to look into getting a hawk…or a falcon! He deposited the cup and a piece of sausage on the sill next to the raptor and returned to his seat to read.

Harry watched as his godfather opened the letter. Instantly, the haggard man’s heart began to pound wildly and his eyes filled with tears.

“Alive?”

Harry creeled.

Sirius looked up from the page. “Oh. You’re waiting for a reply. Gimmee a tic, will you?”

With a shaking hand, he scribbled out a reply and tied it to the hawk’s leg. As soon as the bird had taken flight, he turned to the fireplace and throwing in a pinch of the glittering powder, called out: “Moony’s hut!” and then the agreed-upon password; “Marauders live!”

Harry flew down Diagon Alley to the back of The Leaky Cauldron, before shifting form and apparating to Cambridge. He had a dinner to prepare.

******

An exhausted Remus stumbled to the fire. It had been rough since his last transformation and the next full moon was in three days. Sirius had offered to host him at his flat in Diagon Alley, but ‘somehow’ the bureaucrats in the ministry had gotten wind of that and refused to allow it. Sirius was fit to kill!

He was certain that Dumbledore had arranged for the revelation.

As such, Remus had to remain in his little cottage in the forests northeast of Skiddaw.

Jobs had been scarce and they seemed to be getting harder to find as the years went by. He was currently working as a nightshift accounts supervisor at a middle-sized company in northeastern Surrey that manufactured cutting and boring tools. Remus knew he’d heard the name ‘Grunnings’ before, but he just couldn’t recall where…


“Sirius? What’s wrong?”

“I need you here…it’s important!”

“All right. Let me get dressed.” Remus turned from the fireplace, went to take a quick shower and brush his teeth. Done that, he cast a drying spell on himself and pulled on his day-robes, and sliding his wand into the wrist holster James had given him so long before. He threw some Floo Powder into the flames and hurled himself through.

Sirius didn’t even let him catch his balance before wrapping him in a crushing hug.

“He’s alive, Remmy! Harry’s alive!”

“Sirius…” Remus tried to temporize. He’d seen the circular hole in the ground where Harry had stayed…he couldn’t call it ‘living’, as according to the neighbors, it was little better than prison, but the hole was there, and there was no sign of Harry. That the monitors in Dumbledore’s office were all destroyed, only helped to prove the point. “I know you’d like for him to be alive, but…”

Sirius interrupted him, with: “No! Remmy listen! I got a letter today. It was dated today.” He thrust the letter at his old friend, but continued before Remus could read. “He called me Padfoot! He’s alive! For some reason he doesn’t want Dumbledore to know. I’d imagine he found out about the things the old man’s done to him, but he’s alive! He asked me to contact him in…wait!” Sirius looked his old friend in the eye and said: “Remus, I’m sorry as hell to ever have to ask this…but I want a pledge. You must swear you’ll never tell the old man where Harry is. Can you do that?”

“Why would you ask me to do that? Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes. I do. You’re my only friend left, Remus. I trust you with my life, and even with Harry’s life. I don’t trust Albus bloody Dumbledore…not a far as I can throw Hagrid. Think, Remus; Dumbledore is the cause, direct or indirect, for all the problems we’ve had since we finished school. He had Hagrid keep Harry from me, with orders to bring him to the bloody Dursleys, knowing that Lily forbad his ever even seeing them. He refused to tell any of us that bloody prophecy…not even Lily or James. They managed to listen to it anyway. They took Harry to the Department of Mysteries prophecy room, and had him lift the thing from the rack. Remus, that prophesy is rubbish. It’s just a handful of made up words, but somehow Voldemort believed it.

Two days after they were murdered, Dumbledore sealed the Potter will and had himself named magical guardian in closed session of the Wizengamot. Moony, Amelia told me the Wizengamot wasn’t in session that day…and not for more than two weeks after!”

That was unwelcome news to Remus. Dumbledore had told him that several things were passed that day in the Wizengamot…including a law preventing werewolves from fostering children, regardless the parent’s wishes. He’d said that vile Umbridge woman had forced the bill through, citing the activities of Fenrir Greyback as the reason, but now, with the revelations Sirius had made, he wasn’t so sure. It was with half an ear, that he listened as Sirius went on, until his attention was wrenched to the fore by Sirius saying: “He may also have been involved in the Longbottom’s torture. After all, Alice is Harry’s godmother. With the both of us out of the way, he could do whatever he wanted.”

“You realize you’re putting me in a hell of a spot. I owe Dumbledore everything.”

“No. You don’t.” Sirius shot back. “Remus, you owe him, yes, but not nearly as much as you might think. He helped you go to Hogwarts, but that’s all. Think about all he’s done since. I happen to know that James left you a rather sizable stipend to help you support yourself. You never got it, because Dumbledore blocked the will. James set it up so that you would live in Potter Manse, with shielded woods all around, and that nice little securely locked room in the sub-cellar, in case I wasn’t there to run with you. Dumbledore knew that, because he witnessed the will, and yet, he prevented your ever seeing one bloody day in safety and comfort. Next to me, you’re the closest thing Harry has to family, and yet, Dumbledore ordered you to stay the hell away from him.

My question is…why?

Amelia told me of some of the other things he’s done. Did you know that most of the laws against werewolves came from his desk? The really nasty ones came from that Umbitch woman, and there were a few from Malfoy and his lot, but Dumbledore wrote the rest. Again…why?

The same thing goes for the anti-vampire laws…and the restrictions against the centaurs, and the goblins. Why would he do that? It doesn’t make sense…especially for someone who’s claimed for so long, to be the champion of the light.”


Remus sat heavily. He had never seen Dumbledore as anything but the noble hero who’d enabled him to attend Hogwarts when his affliction, not to mention, his poverty, would have prevented it. Now, Sirius, apparently with the support of Amelia Bones, someone he’d always greatly respected, was telling him that the very icon he had so revered was not only responsible for the murders of his best friends, but also the imprisonment of their son. The wolf in him snarled and snapped, fighting the bonds of restraint, so he could hunt down and kill the person who’d hurt the pack so very much. Remus had to fight hard to keep Moony under control…especially this close to the full moon.


Now, Sirius watched the battle being fought within the man he called ‘best friend’. He could sense the wolf trying to get free, and Remus’ iron will forcing Moony into the back of his mind.


Finally, Remus grunted, as he locked Moony away. “Alright. What’s the oath?”

Sirius nearly melted with relief. “Swear on your magic that you will never willingly divulge any of Harry’s secrets.”

“What about emergencies? An oath like that could kill him!”

“Damn! I missed that. OK, Swear you will never willingly divulge any of Harry’s secrets except in the case of a life-threatening emergency. Howzzat?”

“That should work. Let me think of anything else you might have missed.”

Sirius waited, but within a minute or so, Remus agreed, but added: “Or to those who I know are already privy to such secrets.”

The oath sworn, Sirius told him the note said for them to apparate to the park in Little Whinging and transport would be waiting there.

They transfigured their robes into muggle clothing before leaving.


Remus had never been there before, as Dumbledore had placed wards around the area to keep out anybody he didn’t want there…Remus in particular, and Sirius hadn’t been since before the Potters had died, so after several misdirected apparations, and a near miss by a lorry, as they had appeared on the macadam just as the vehicle was approaching. They dived into the blackberry off the side of the road, which had the pair of them howling in pain, and the lorry driver shaking his head in confusion, and promising himself more sleep.

Eventually they made it to the play park in Little Whinging, confused, scratched up, and annoyed.

The spy-eye that Harry had detailed to watch the park, reported their presence and after making them wait a while, he silently popped into being behind them.

Sirius had grown tired of waiting and so began calling Harry’s name in a harsh whisper.

“Harry!” He hissed. “Harry! Where are you?”

Just as Remus’ nose alerted him to an intruder, Harry whispered back: “Right here!” He grabbed them both by the backs of their shirts and popped them into the Book Cave.

A quick gesture and both were firmly anchored to the metal wall, their wands in his hand.

“And you call yourselves Marauders! Shame on you! Haven’t you two ever heard of situational awareness? Keeping a look-out? And you!” He glared at Sirius. “Hasn’t my mother ever told you to never mix stripes with plaids? Come on, man! Striped trousers went out of style with Disco!”

Sirius was gaping at the miniature version of James Potter, while Remus was staring at the beautiful starship that shared their accommodations.


“Harry?” Sirius was saying, as Remus drooled over the My Little.

That brought Remus’ head around so quickly, Harry thought he heard bones pop. A grimace from Remus told him that might have been the case. He gasped in shock; “Bloody hell, Harry! You’re supposed to be dead!”

The miniature Potter smirked. “As Clemens once said: “Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.” With a twitch of a finger, he freed both men from their bonds.

“Harry?” Sirius was weeping openly, tears flooding down his face. Sirius sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around the child before him, weeping for all that had happened…to both of them.

Stroking his godfather’s hair, Harry quietly asked; “How do you like your freedom?”

“Oh, Harry! I’m so sorry!” The older man sobbed. “I can’t understand why I ever…”

“I can.” Harry interrupted. “Imperius. Dumbledore was there that night, under a disillusionment charm. Sirius, he stood there and watched, as Voldemort murdered my parents. When you discovered Peter’s absence from his little hidey-hole, and came to investigate, he placed you under Imperius. It wasn’t hard, you know. You’d already worked out that Peter had betrayed us, and you wanted him dead anyway. Dumbledore just…enhanced that feeling and gave you orders to hunt that miserable rat-bastard down and kill him. Sirius, he intended for you to be caught. He intended for you to either die, or go to Azkaban, so he could justify putting me with the Dursleys.”

“But…”

“Later. Dinner is waiting and I’m hungry. Let’s go eat, and we can talk things over there. The dining room is much more comfortable than the Book Cave.” Harry thrummed out a riff. Remus caught it and snickered at the reference. Sirius missed it entirely and gave his friend an odd look.

******


Harry led the two men up the stairs, and gave them the two-Knut tour, before taking them into the dining room. There they could smell the hot, rich, beef stew, and freshly baked bread he’d made. Both complemented him on his cooking skills, as they set to.

As they ate, Harry began to explain his current circumstances, which led to other revelations. Revelations a certain old wizard would have preferred remain secret.

******

“Potter Manse?” Harry was shocked. Even after a thousand years he had never known his family had a mansion. He said as much.

“I thought the cottage in Godric’s Hollow was my parent’s home.”

“Mmm-mmm!” Sirius shook his head while spooning more stew into his mouth. Remus explained. “Harry, that cottage was Dumbledore’s family home. He insisted on your hiding there, claiming the Fidelius he’d cast was impermeable. Unfortunately he was wrong.”

“No, he was right. The Fidelius is impenetrable, but only if the secret keeper doesn’t blab. Sirius, before you go blaming yourself, you should know, Dumbledore had Peter in mind all along.

He didn’t have time to hide things before he died; he was far too conceited. He just loved to look over his ‘wonderful plans!” Harry growled, the anger and pain clearly audible in his words. “Anyway, after he died, I had Dobby bring me his pensieve. There were too many inconsistencies in his stories, and so, I asked for memories of my parent’s association in the Order, and later, their murders. I found them. Sirius, he set my parents up to die. He knew Snape was listening outside that door and he Imperiused Trelawney into spouting that worthless handful of made-up words, knowing Snivelly would take them straight to his master.”

“Made up?” Remus asked. “Sirius mentioned that.”

Sirius and Harry both nodded. “Mmmhmm. The prophecy is false. Or it was until Snape took it to Tommy-boy. When Voldemort acted on it, it became real. Magic’s funny like that, y’know.”


Remus nodded, and Sirius gaped at the revelation.

Anyway, he ordered them to go into hiding under his Fidelius charm, and as soon as they’d become comfortable, he set the next part of his “Grand Plan’ into motion.

I believe Albie placed a compulsion on you to convince dad to swap secret keeping with Peter. That way, you’d think it was your idea, and dad would think so too, and Ol’ Twinkles, would never be a suspect. He just loves using behavioral compulsions to get people to do what he wants. They’re nearly as bad as Imperius, but they’re legal. In fact, he’s kept them legal for that very reason.

As I see it, he’d planned on you killing Peter and being killed by the Aurors, or being arrested and going to Azkaban for it. That way his part is never revealed. Like you, he never suspected that Peter might have more than a few tricks in his bag. Remember, any animal is most dangerous when it’s cornered…a rat especially. As it was, the Aurors were conveniently there, only seconds after Peter blew up the street. Now, given that their usual response time for a disturbance in a mundane area, is between two and five minutes…sometimes more, I wonder why? Anyway, Dumbledore made sure you were sent to Azkaban without the tiresome bother of a little thing called due process, and he told the world that you were Voldemort’s evil hidden Death Eater. I believe he called you; Voldemort’s ‘Most Trusted Lieutenant’ all caps.”

“All caps?” Sirius was confused by the expression. Remus snickered. He knew what the term meant.

“Never mind. It would take too long to explain the vagaries of English slang.”


Remus chuckled again at his friend’s incomprehension, then asked; “How do you know all this, Harry? You were raised away from the wizarding world. For that matter, where are we…and what’s that thing in the cellar? It looks like a ruddy spaceship.”

“It is a spaceship, Remus. Actually, it’s a starship…and as for how I know, I’m a thousand years old. I’ve had a lot of time to research this.”

“A thousand years…?”

“Yep. I died on my one thousandth birthday, actually. You see, I…”

They adjourned to the lounge where harry lit a fire…without a wand, Remus noted, and their discussion went on long into the night, with them finally adjourning at about five the next morning. Harry picked up several small pieces of firewood from the box, and showed them to the spare rooms. When he saw the empty room, Sirius complained: “Harry, there’s no bed in here…no furniture at all.”

Harry handed him the pieces of wood and chuckled: “Are you a wizard or not?”

Sirius blushed a brilliant shade of red and Remus collapsed against the wall, laughing his arse off.

******

It was a nervous Remus Lupin who approached Harry the next morning. The moon would be full in two days and he’d been feeling the effects for some time now.

Wordlessly Harry handed him a cuppa and retuned his attention to the newspaper.

“Harry, you do know I’m a werewolf, don’t you?”

This got Sirius’ attention.

Harry looked up from the paper and nodded.

“Mmmhmm. Unfortunately, werewolves had been wiped out almost eight hundred years before I left Earth…purged by a callous and uncaring government. A shame, really. I’ve asked ‘Mione to synthesize a cure for you. I’ll need to take some blood from you, at, at least three distinct times. As you are now, midway during transformation and as a full werewolf. It should be ready in about five or so months.”

“You can do that?” Sirius asked, shocked at the idea.

“I can’t let you do that, Harry.” Remus protested at the same time. “I could bite you!”

Harry smirked, finished his tea, set down the paper, and said; “Lemmee show you something downstairs.” He stood and led them down to the Book Cave and the My Little.


Sirius and Remus both gawped once more, at the little starship. On a mental command, a ramp extruded itself from the belly of the gleaming machine. Harry led the way into the exotic vessel.

“Welcome to the My Little Bookworm. Good morning, ‘Mione.”

“Good morning, Harry.” Came a voice from nowhere. Sirius whirled trying to find the undoubtedly attractive woman, while Remus, more comfortable with the muggle world, understood that there must be hidden speakers.

“Please allow access to Remus John Lupin and Sirius Orion Black.”

“So, these are the infamous Marauders. From what Harry has told me, I’d have thought you two would be taller.” ‘Mione snarked.

“As you can see, she’s got a dreadful sense of humour. I think I need to reprogramme her.”

“What was that?” The voice took on a dangerous tone.

“Nothing!” Harry made himself look panicked.

“Whpppsssch!” Sirius made the sound of a whip cracking. Remus just laughed.

“Think about it, Sirius, ‘Mione controls the star-drive, shields, weapons…life support…” Harry shot back.

Sirius blanched and Remus chuckled as Harry led them up the null-grav field, wrapping his arms around the unsettled Sirius to keep the Marauder from panicking as he floated upwards, and through the heavy hatch to the main deck. The airlock access vanished and they stepped into the little ship’s living section.


Next to the airlock were two lockers. Harry gestured and the panel melted away, to show Remus the armored spacesuit within.

“This is powered armor. It’s hard as a diamond…in fact; the outer shell is made of several thousand layers of artificially created, quadralaterally aligned, sub-atomically bonded, microscopic diamonds. It can’t be broken by anything you could bring to bear. You could hit it with an anti tank rocket or an artillery shell, and while the impact would knock me arse over teakettle, I wouldn’t be hurt. With it, I could easily fight a dragon. I don’t think a werewolf will be much of a problem.”

Remus blushed.

Sirius spoke up then. “Harry, this…armor…thingy, is like nine times your size!”

“Not a problem. I anticipated the need and so I’ve asked ‘Mione to whip up a copy small enough to fit me. It’ll be ready by tomorrow.’

“Tonight.” ‘Mione interjected.

“Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” Harry groused.

“Yeah…once. Interesting concept.” The AI snarked back. “Why?”

Harry sighed while both marauders laughed.



Looking around, Sirius commented: “It seems comfortable enough, although I’d have thought something this big would have more living space.”

“Well there was only so much room to work with, and the drive systems, shields, weapons, life support, stores and the like, take up most of it. That’s why the ceiling is only seven feet instead of eight. Still, it’s got about the same amount of room as a large caravan, and I really didn’t need much space anyway.”

“Couldn’t you use expansion charms?” Remus wondered idly.

“No.” Harry replied. “Due to the technomagical nature of the star-drive, any heavy use of magic, such as area expansion charms, could destabilize the drive, and trust me…that would be bad!


From there, Harry offered to show them around the ship. Both heads nodded as fast as any house elf. Snickering at the image, he showed them the lounge with its comfortable couch and chair, and had the kitchenette create some Turkish coffees and baklava for them. As an aside, he asked ‘Mione to select some subtle music. When Remus asked why, he said: “Dead silence is not only unnerving for most people, but can actually be detrimental to their mental and emotional well-being. People are used to background noise…even when they’re asleep. If they don’t have it, they begin to make it up and if that goes on too long, it sometimes becomes difficult to distinguish what’s real, from what isn’t.”

Remus frowned in thought, and then nodded. Being as he had spent as much time in the muggle world as he had, he was fairly well read on the subject of psychology.

As Harry handed them their coffees, Remus ventured: “Harry? Why do you have a hob, when this thing…” He pointed to the food synthesizer. “…can make whatever you want?”

“I like to cook. Believe me, Remus; the mundane chore of cooking is vastly underrated. The world I came from was boring. Nobody knew how to cook…nobody. The masses relied on auto-prep foods. When I had guests; they were either shocked or offended when I offered to cook dinner. I could get away with it because I was so bloody old. They saw me as an anachronism…a throwback to an earlier age, but preparing food manually just wasn’t in their world-view.

While the synthesizer can provide whatever I want, nutritionally balanced, and perfectly proportioned for my body, making a meal from scratch is both interesting and relaxing. Remember, I’d planned my journey to last more than a year. I’d need something to keep me occupied.”

Remus nodded in understanding. Sirius was apparently still in shock.


Sipping the hideously strong coffee and munching on the sweet, nutty pastries, they ambled aft of the kitchenette and around the corner, where Harry showed them the bathroom, which both Marauders really appreciated. It was compact, yet still large and open. “I’ve always hated tiny little bathrooms. People need room to spread their arms…even in the loo. I did have to make some concessions to the limited space, and as I prefer showers to baths anyway, I could do away with a tub, but as you’ve said, it’s a real bathroom, not like something you’d find in a jail-cell.”

Sirius winced at the ‘jail-cell’ referent, but Remus nodded with a grin and Harry continued the tour. On the other side of the lounge was his ‘bedroom’, for want of a better word. There was no door, and the area was barely three feet wide by seven long, but the bed was inset into the wall, and like everywhere else, there were drawers and cabinets for storage. The bed was firm and comfortable, and large enough for two…if they were ‘friendly’, but as Harry had no guests along, there was no need for anything larger.

“Harry, I don’t see any doors. What do you do in case a meteor impact breaches the hull? I understand such a breach would cause a catastrophic pressure drop.”

“Well first off, the outer hull averages thirty centimeters of diamond composite shell. Just like the armor in the environment suits. Basically anything that could possibly breach that hull would also probably destroy the ship entirely, and, unless I’m either in the command center or the Doodlebug, it’s a moot point. If I am there, either one can be used as an emergency lifeboat. On the other hand, for housekeeping and general safety, there are both force screens at each doorway and access, and ‘Mione can create walls and hatches wherever she needs to. She can even alter the internal layout…within reason, so I don’t get too bored.”

His combined study, library and art room, which incorporated a redundant computer core and a secondary monitoring station for the stardrive and life-support systems was their next stop. There was also a second synthesizer. “I had intended to spend a lot of time in here. That’s why I put the monitoring station here. This way, I could paint and still know what’s going on.”

“That way you don’t have to leave the room?”

“Mmm-mmm.” Harry shook his head, then addrssed the console. “Alizarin Crimson, Darylide yellow, Titanium buff and Pthalo green. Number eight flat, number two bright, number one filbert, number one liner.” A whir sound came from the machine and within seconds a chime sounded. The panel slid aside, and inside were four tubes of paint and four brushes.

“This way, I don’t have to carry a stock of the stuff on board. When I need something, I simply call for it. It’s always fresh and ready to use.”

“Makes sense. The same goes for canvases?”

“Mmmhmm. If I need something really large it’s a slightly different story, but this can produce canvases up to three by four feet.”

From there, he led them to a compact medical bay, which simply boggled their minds…and finally, he showed them the gym. Everything there, melted neatly into the walls themselves, leaving room on the floor for stretching, yoga, Tai-Chi and the like. Remus nodded appreciatively.

Smelling water, he pointed to the source. The large, waist-high tank at the side of the gym.

“What’s that?”

“That’s my swimming pool.”

“Your what?”

“My swimming pool.” He sent a thought and the top vanished, showing a large tank of water. “Obviously, I can’t have a regular one here due to the limited space, so I have this instead. It’s got some rather powerful pumps to force the water from one end to the other, and you can swim against the flow. Put your hand to the water.” Remus did and with another silent command, the pumps began to turn. The water pushed against Remus’ hand. “Gives you a great workout. It’s also my auxiliary water storage.

“Auxiliary water…Harry, if you swim in it, you’re certain to…well…”

“I try not to pee in the pool, Remus…” Harry smirked. “…but it wouldn’t matter if I did. It’s got filtration systems that haven’t even been dreamed of yet. They can eliminate anything from the smallest virus to mineral deposits. Since the ship is self-contained, and since there’s a force-screen around the tank, there’s only minimal loss, and even that, is eventually recycled back into the mix. Everything goes into the Basic Element Separator Unit, for processing into whatever I need.

Harry turned to the wall and a screen there lit, showing the floor plan of this section of the My Little. Harry showed the BESU and its associated components, then called up a second diagramme of its basic operation.

Remus was astounded. This system could take matter apart at the atomic level, convert things from one element to another, and back again.

Amazing!


Both Sirius and Remus could appreciate the sheer number of little details like that, that Harry had put into designing the My Little. She was self-contained and compact, and yet still had more than enough room for one or two.



Harry led them forward through the lounge into the control center. Like the rest of the My Little, it was compact, yet had the appearance of space. A bubble about twelve feet across surrounded the very comfortable pilot’s chair…floating in mid-air. Harry explained the bubble was a screen that would show them a panoramic view in all dimensions…even beneath them. Sirius asked what was holding the control couch up.

“It’s a combination of technomagical fields that hold it in place, but it can be oriented in any direction. Think of it as a permanent levitation charm.” Harry sat in the couch and thought a command, and the seat rolled itself sideways. He remained perfectly unruffled even at such an angle.

“All the security functions come on-line whenever anyone sits here, and the fields ensure the pilot is comfortable regardless the seat’s orientation.”

Deciding to have a bit of fun at Harry’s expense, Remus sniped: “And what is that ‘orientation’?”

Before a rather startled Harry could answer, ‘Mione said; “Bi-curious.” leaving Sirius confused by the term, Remus embarrassed at the failure of his prank, and Harry laughing his arse off.

“You’re in over your head, Moony.” He chortled. “She started out a genus, and she’s only gotten smarter since.”

Like the rest of the ship, the bubble took up only a little of the space in the forward section. The rest was sensors, computers, emergency star-drive, albeit of a much reduced capability, life support systems and other spacecraft paraphernalia, it was also an emergency lifeboat in the event the My Little was destroyed or severely enough damaged that her survival was impossible. Through a panel in the access way, there were two stasis tubes in case said disaster occurred outside a reasonable distance from an inhabitable system. When Remus “What’s reasonable?” Harry smirked. “Mmmm…a hundred, hundred twenty light years, something like that.” Remus was both fascinated and yet horrified, at the immense distances involved, and poor Sirius was near to cortical burnout. Harry took pity on him.


He plunked the black-haired marauder into the command chair, turned it to face forward, and activated the basic controls. As soon as he was comfortably ensconced. The screens came up and Sirius could see the metal walls of the ‘Book Cave’. Nearly bouncing in excitement, Sirius chirped: “This is way cool, Harry!”

Harry snickered at the older man’s childlike enthusiasm, as he wrapped the neural interface around Sirius’ head like a flexible crown. Harry spoke to the computer. “‘Mione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Please access and integrate brain patterns, Sirius Orion Black, for limited access, secondary functions only.”

“Of course.”

The headset came to life and Sirius felt like someone was trying to penetrate his mind. He began to panic. He knew occlumency but was long out of practice. Only Harry’s firm hand on his shoulder and his sharp; “Relax!” kept him from snatching the device from his head and flinging it away. The large screen before him displayed his brain patterns. Remus was more familiar with the muggle world than Sirius, and thought it was fascinating.

When the AI had finished recording, the screen cleared and the walls of the Book Cave were visible once more.

“Bloody hell! What was that?”

“That was the ship’s AI scanning your brain patterns. Now you can activate some of the basic functions. ‘Mione, please set up a Mah-Jongg game for Sirius and instruct him in playing it.”

Instantly a solid looking set of three-dimensional tiles appeared before the stunned Marauder. Even Remus was impressed. ‘Mione began to explain what Mah-Jongg was, and how to play.

Leaving the enthralled Sirius to play the deceptively simple game, he turned aft to show Remus how to access the millions of volumes stored in the little starship’s massive library.

In the comfortable reading room, Harry spoke to the quiet Marauder. “As soon as we can pry him out of that seat, I’ll give you access too, though a bit more than him.”

“Why more, Harry?” Remus asked. “Sirius is my best friend.”

“I understand that, Remus. But…well…for as long as I’ve known him, and I admit it wasn’t all that long, Sirius has never really been…and I truly hate to say this…serious.”

At Moony’s groan, Harry went on. “He’s also been in Azkaban, for the past four years, having close encounters of the worst kind with the neighborhood dementors. He’s not entirely stable. The last thing I would want to do, is give him complete control over a starship, the weapons systems of which, could easily lay waste to the surface of this planet.”


Remus could only agree. He agreed that following such a debilitating incarceration; it could take several years before Sirius was whole again. With such a dangerous weapon in his hands, he could do an ungodly amount of damage.

“I’m going to give you more access, you’ll be able to research anything aboard, but you won’t be able to activate the drive systems, weapons or shields. Speaking of which, I have one course of shields out at all times. This prevents anyone from accidentally discovering her. Even the wizards can’t find her.”

******


The next morning, Remus walked around the My Little, admiring her design. There were no bulky blast tubes, no engine bells or heavy hydraulic struts, instead she flowed organically from bow to stern.

She filled the hidden underground hangar, but nevertheless gave the impression of petite grace, and barely controlled power.

He slid his hand across her frictionless hull, raising an eyebrow in appreciation. A very pretty bird!

“I can feel your hands, you know.” Came from around him. Remus whirled looking for the voice and fell on his arse.

The voice chuckled. “Well, if I’d known I’d get that kind of reaction, I’d have done this earlier!”

“Very funny…‘Mione?”

“Mmmmhmmm.” The voice replied. “Harry named me after his late wife.”

“Hermione something?”

“Hermione Granger. She’s the little girl who lives next door. In fact, Harry bought this house specifically to get close to her. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have met for another seven years. If you’re finished touching me up, come inside and I’ll make you some tea.”

“I was not touching you up!” Remus sputtered in outrage.

‘Mione chuckled. “You’re supposed to be one of the famous Marauders? As easy as it is to set you off, I’m amazed you were able to pull anything.”

Remus ascended the ramp, grumbling under his breath about smart-arsed machines. ‘Mione didn’t bother to tell him she could hear him perfectly.


As Remus sat with a steaming cup in front of him, a figure began to form on the other side of the table. She was about thirty, wearing a blue top. Her hair was, well, not curly per se, and not unmanageable, but still wild, and…well, Remus thought uncontrolled was a perfect word to describe it.

Though he’d never met her, Remus immediately understood he was talking to Harry’s wife.

“Hermione?”

“In part. What you see is a holographic construct.” The image replied. “This is what Hermione looked like for much of their lives together.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” To Remus’ surprised delight, the hologramme actually blushed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
A/N: 14: In the environment Harry grew up in, he most likely wouldn’t have been able to study such complex subjects without being caught, most abused children don’t. For the sake of this story, he needed a sufficient level of accomplishment to qualify for this school in order to get close to Hermione.

15: For those who care, I do not hate disco. I truly like the music, as it has a feeling of exuberance in it that I rarely find in other musical styles. The dance moves are a bit silly, but nothing worse than a modern line dance, but the clothing is something only a colorblind French fashion designer could love. (You know who you are!)