And so begins the beginning of the beginning. ^_~

Harry Potter stared at his meal. His rice and beans looked like moldy maggots, his steak looked like wood, and the cauliflower looked like brains covered with too orange cheese. He ate by rote, choking it down.

For three hundred some years he had eaten the same meals: his entree choices were tough soy protein steak, rubber-like eggplant parmigiano, or surprisingly nice but a bit too sweet stuffed manicotti; with sides of rice and beans, buttery egg noodles, or a baked potato; his only vegetable cheesy cauliflower, a hated food; and as a pudding, once more his only choice, something he never thought he could hate, treacle tarts. Each of those choices were the only stasis field protected foods to survive the crash. Even with the original foodstuffs to use the gemino charm on, duplicated food lost much of its flavor and visual appeal and the majority of its nutritional value. He had to eat four times the amount to get the same nutrients and the rest was roughage. His colon was in excellent order, he could tell.

Done, he turned to the computers, scowling. The transmitter array still had too little power to transmit through the atmosphere but he could still receive.

And he did receive. Starfleet classes, newsbursts, encrypted files—those got stored but left alone, and civilian stuff not to mention aliens he had never thought would exist. He had taught himself Klingon, Romulan, Vulcan, and immersed himself in his own culture, oft praying the rest had made it to their new homeworld as he delved deep into magical theory. He cried too often, thinking he would never discuss the things he had learned with Hermione or practice illusory magic with Fleur.

He opened the new class on warp field mechanics. The math was almost as complex as runic arithmancy and he was finding that if this world had any sort of magic on it, he might have been able to build a warp capable ship utilizing magic.

Sighing, he went back to reading, wishing there was more metal on this planet near the surface.

~•~

Harry swam back into consciousness, groaning in pain. His transfigured bed had turned back into a section of deck plating in the night—after sixteen months, he thought somewhat triumphantly—and he made a mental note to stop testing his charms' permanency on himself.

He left the room he had used as his latest bedroom—he kept switching to keep the mind out of too many patterns—and walked out to the airlock. A fifteen minute long check of his encounter suit and a bubblehead charm—the air pack hadn't worked for a century—and he was outside, walking the paths around his SOS message, recasting the charms that made sure the fluidic stone glowed brightly.

As he walked, he found himself thinking about his wives—though legally only Hermione had been his wife with Fleur as their personal assistant—and children, imagining once more what their lives had been like.

He smiled at the image of a many times great grandson with a hint of Hermione's hair in his and the Evanses's green eyes.

He brought his hand up to scratch his nose and chuckled weakly at hitting the aluminium oxynitride of the mask. Pressing the mask in place, he moved his head forward to itch his nose on the mask.

"Captain, I'm detecting a number of energy sources coming from Gedix VII," said Ensign Wallace. She was using Worf's station while he was on his meal break.

Picard turned away from the screen he had been studying. "What type?"

"A very weak emergency beacon is orbiting the planet and a handful of weak—wait, they all have identical signatures. I believe there's one refracted signature on the planet."

Picard moved to the weapons station and leaned over, studying the information then flicked it onto the main screen.

"Alright, let's move in close. We can finish surveying II after this."

~•~

Geordi studied the data alongside Data. "What do you think it is?"

"An unknown energy source powering a—"

"Not what I mean, Data. I mean, utilizing all the information of like scenarios, make a best guess."

Data hesitated, doing as requested. Forty seconds passed. "Unknown."

Geordi sighed. He had hoped the emotions chip would help but it hadn't. Oh, Data had a girlfriend of a sort now, but it hadn't helped with his imagination.

"A refracting carapace: a Sarlesian Wind Beetle lives in an atmosphere much like the upper atmosphere on this planet," Data relayed. "We can formulate a polymer utilizing a genetically modified Hallinan Spider to excrete the polymer then coat a combat duty runabout after reinforcing the analog structural integrity with the same armor plating as used on the upcoming Voyager class starship."

Geordi checked the data on all three and ran the idea through the computer. The simulation checked out. "What about the orthogonal radiation detected at the crash site?" Known to cause minor issues with most Starfleet technology but completely harmless to humans.

"The armor plating exists in the fourth dimension due to the trithium in its amalgamated structure. It will shield the shuttle from it." Data made a note to the project to suggest they set down seven kilometers upwind of the site as a precaution.

~•~

Deanna sat in her favorite chair, nursing a headache that wouldn't go away. Her husband and wife had left her in peace to have dinner in Ten-Forward while she nursed a nutrient shake and Beverly studied a real-time scan from her office.

There was a very quiet cheep sound then Beverly said, "There's no biological reason for your cluster migraine, Deanna. I'm authorizing the unlocking of your Minn-Lock." A small device that temporarily scrambled a betazed's mind to remove their telepathic—or empathic in Deanna's case—powers. It was addictive so only Beverly could unlock it.

Deanna took it from its small case and placed it against her temple, sighing in relief as the pain began to register as pleasure. She hoped the two would return soon.

~•~

Harry stared upwards at a strange presence. He wondered if perhaps it was a ship. Whatever it was, he could feel an energy, something touching his mind.

Then it was gone.

Sighing, he looked away. Tired, he went back to the wreckage, stopping to pay respect to the graves of those who perished on crashing or soon after. The planet's atmosphere had leaked in and poisoned them all, sterilizing and causing insanity. He had had to put a number down.

The creeping worry came back then: what if i was the insane one and killed them all for no reason?

Harry shook that off. The security footage he had reviewed showed, while he had also been affected, he had been under attack too.

He pulled his occlumency shields tight, pressing his emotions away, wondering if, someday, he might study with Vulcans to understand their emotional control. What if they're magical too?

~•~

Data felt a great amount of disappointment at being unable to accompany the away team. His positronic net and quantinary engrams would be scrambled by the orthogonal radiation.

He turned at hearing his quarter's doors open at 1811 hours. Ensign Emily Mayweather smiled at him. "Hi Data!"

He smiled back, his disappointment fading at seeing her. "Hello, Emily. How was your day?"

She pushed him backwards on to the couch then settled on his lap, and after a quick kiss, began telling him how Siri Walker had vomited his snack of Rinian sandworms on to two other pre-education children.

Her story has just finished and she was debating aloud what to make for dinner—while Data had no preferences, he had found that if he requested she make her mother's meatloaf, she was in a good mood for at least seventy-two hours afterwards—but before he could speak, his comm badge chimed. "Commander Data, report to combat bay two," said Geordi.

"Acknowledged." He smiled at a visibly disappointed Emily. "Why don't you make your mom's meatloaf?"

She smiled. "Okay. And invite Commander LaForge if you finish before 1930?"

He nodded and kissed her cheek, nuzzling her a bit then left as she began replicating ingredients for four.

As he walked, he analyzed their interaction, comparing it to previous days, other relationships aboard ship, historical relationship data, and relationship texts and came to the conclusion at Emily loved him with a 13% error of margin.

Data copied that computation to his relationship archives then stepped aboard a waiting turbolift.

Two months of converting a combat craft, three concurrent months of growing spiders and inducing significant web production—as well as causing Lt. Barclay to have a nervous breakdown after walking into the wrong science lab—and converting the biopolymer into paint, and careful application over 73 hours—by Data in one stretch—the craft was ready.

~•~

Harry closed his test. He had scored 77% overall. Too low to pass Starfleet but even if he wasn't on this planet, his goal wasn't to join. His goal was to build his own Starship utilizing magic. If we haven't already built them, he thought.

Optimism for his people was the only thing keeping him going.

He looked at his parchment where he detailed his knowledge. He had eschewed biology and the like. Even if he had the knowledge of a doctor of his time, he'd be woefully out of touch in less than a decade. Hermione spent—had spent, he reminded himself bitterly—most of her free time reading periodicals to learn new things that superseded what she had learned sometimes only weeks before

Harry smiled. I solemnly swear I am up to no good. The words began to form on the sheet, detailing his education. He had finished his mastery in Defense before they left, his charms, runes, and arithmancy masteries in the first two decades of travel, started an education in engineering from the auto-tutor and gained a Masters of Science in programming and a Masters of Science in mechanical engineering with a minor in warp technologies. Those were most likely woefully out of date, he admitted to himself, but they were a good start. The Federation had begun about that time and he had used those technological underpinnings to educate himself with the classes he began to pickup.

He sighed tiredly, glad to be done, he decided. Three centuries and while he knew he would learn new things, he decided his knowledge was enough. It was time to start designing a ship.

~•~

Riker studied his away team. Himself, trauma nurse Ensign Jasmine Potter, Lt. Jasmine Plisken—Worf's latest protégé, and Ensign Quorra Jasmine, a specialist on V9 class planets. He made a note on his PADD to chew out the tasking officer. All the Jasmines meant they weren't assigning away teams as randomly as they should.

They were waiting for Data to arrive for the mission brief.

He walked in a minute late.

"Apologies. Spot and Sparx escaped my quarters." Sparx was Emily's perpetual puppy.

He touched his PADD to the screen on the wall and data begin to fill the screen.

"Gedix VII is a class V9 planet," said Ensign Quorra Jasmine. "Class V9's have an atmosphere charged with human specific hallucinogenic compounds. A scoop probe released into the atmosphere showed that there is also a higher than usual amount or orthogonal radiation, beyond any save Earth's before the Eugenics wars."

"Orthogonal radiation," Potter said. "What exactly is it?"

"Unknown. It's theorized to be a significant component in the Gaia Hypothesis," said Data as he pulled up a layman's definition. "The Gaia Hypothesis states that the Earth is a single living organism with every organism upon it a node operator. Significant lines of it crossed the planet, resembling the Ley Lines that conspiracy theorists espoused were part of evil plans worldwide, with intersections where technology often failed to work properly. The Gaia Hypothesis espouses that these ley line equivalents are much like circuitry.

"It's been theorized that a still unknown deep-earth element reminiscent of post-transuranic elements is what causes orthogonal radiation production."

"Oh, that theory," Riker said. He had come across it before while at the Academy but immediately discounted it. "Continue Data."

"Yes, commander."

In the end it would take four hours to land on the planet, they would set down exactly seven kilometers upwind, travel at a pace to get them there in approximately three hours if their mapping was correct, and arrive at the wreckage at eleven thirty hours.

~•~

Riker yawned tiredly as he slid out of bed, slowing to kiss Brenna's shoulder and Deanna's temple in her bed then carried his uniform out from where he had stacked it the night before so he could dress and not wake his wives.

He had attempted to go to bed early since the mission began at 0430 but Brenna had been insistent that it was her night. Deanna had just smirked and closed the privacy door to the auxiliary bed in their quarters.

He finished dressing then tapped the replicator. "Riker coffee seven." Four shots in the dark, one ounce cream, two shots chocolate. His wakeup juice as Wesley called it.

It arrived in a travel mug and he left their quarters, nodding at the maintenance crews as they worked, repainting the corridors after the Eldoon incident.

~•~

Ensign Quorra Jasmine sat in the co-pilot's seat, checking the systems again, taking a sip of her coffee when she heard a grumbling Commander Riker enter the shuttle. She stood, coming to attention. She had gotten her commission on the battlefield in the Starfleet Marine Corps. "Good morning, sir," she said just a little too brightly for Riker.

"As you were," he replied, taking the pilot's seat and going over what she had been in the middle of.

The rest of the team arrived and Riker received permission from the captain—all ignoring a very grumpy Dr. Crusher-Picard in the background grumbling at the non-medical disturbance of her sleep—to depart.

As the ship's chronometer chimed a bell signifying 0430, the nose of the daVinci V exited the ship, following a rather dangerous course as Riker flew across the hull of the Enterprise less than a metre above it.

He tried not to smirk, noticing His co-pilot's white knuckles.

The radio chirruped. "Commander," came Worf's gravelly voice. "Once again, I must remind you of the captain's standing order?" To not do as he was doing.

Riker laughed and used the attitudinal jets to push off from the hull. "Copy, Worf."

He laid in the course then gave Jasmine the conn as he went back to get some more coffee and some of the baklava Plisken had brought.

~•~

The flight, aside from extreme turbulence, was normal. They landed and began putting on their encounter gear then each checked the person across from them.

~•~

Harry awoke. The storm was different than he was used to. Shrugging it off, he picked up his wands as he noticed today was a transfiguration practice day on the calendar.

After an hour of turning various bits of scrap into little blue humanoids that did a conga line, he decided on eating. He wrinkled his nose at the steak and cauliflower but ate it ravenously. He hadn't eaten in almost two days due to a spell crafting jag.

Then he felt the disturbance again.

~•~

Riker turned on the artificial gravity generators in his boots, switching them to fight the 1.3 earth normal gravity of the planet and give him a 0.4 gravity as he got a running start and leapt the eight metre chasm.

Testing the footing, he raised his arm. "Go!"

The rest of the away team made the same leap, Riker catching Plisken when she caught a foot on the edge.

He turned and looked down into the valley with the SOS in it. "If it wasn't a call for help, that color might be the most beautiful one i've ever seen."

"It looks like a DY-177 Generational-Sleeper ship," Plisken said, slapping her combat tricorder. Hardened to deal with issues like this planet, it was still being affected by its atmosphere. "Can't tell from here though. The orthogonal radiation is sending back strange refractions."

"Mass graveyard," Potter said. "Behind the ship. Life signs possible but same issue as Plisken's." Her hardened medical tricorder was just as affected.

Riker switched his gravity to 0.6 and leapt, using the attitudinal jets on the boots to compensate for his body's forward momentum to keep him upright.

"I love this job," the rest of the away team heard him say softly as he hit the ground.

Plisken followed him down while Jasmine and Potter took the longer path down, still studying their tricorders.

~•~

Harry finally realized what he was feeling. The muggle detectors were going off, silently trilling along his skin.

He slipped his wand out and gave a few careful flicks. Everything began putting itself away.

He picked up his trigger guardless 1911 and set it next to the sword of Gryffindor then pulled on the charmed encounter seat, modified for combat.

The airlock cycled in preparation as he picked up both weapons. The sword shrunk down to a wicked looking dagger at his thought then was sheathed on his belt.

~•~

"This registry doesn't exist in the historical archives," Plisken said. "But that's not surprising. About half of these Generational ships were escaping some sort of persecution—perceived or real—and GeneSys was very accommodating. Maybe a little too accommodating since Singh's ship was one of theirs too."

"This Isn't one of his, right?" Riker asked.

"No, sir," Potter said. "He and his people were in just the one DY-100 ship. This one looks like it might have been called the Gryffin?

"There's a breathable atmosphere inside. Still getting that lifesign. And now that I'm close enough, getting trace elements of bodily rem-AAAHH!"

~•~

Harry cycled the door open and found himself face to face with a blue lit face behind an encounter suit. Her mouth began to move but Harry's suit radio hadn't worked in a very long time due to his magic.

He looked them over then put the safety on on his gun at the sight of the Starfleet emblem and slipped it back into the suits holster and gestured them forwards.

~•~

Riker looked in surprise at the face of a haggard youth who looked at them like they were apparitions for a moment then gestured them forward.

He disappeared back into the airlock.

It cycled back open and seemed inviting.

He moved forward, ignoring Pliskin's admonitions.

Inside the ship after the cycling, Potter made a few notations. "We'll have to go to sickbay after but it's safe enough to remove the suits."

Riker was first out of his and was the first to see the young man return, carrying a handful of pens and pushing a large square of milky white transparent plastic on casters. Already written on it was hello.

"Hello, I'm Commander Riker of the Starship Enterprise."

The young man nodded as the others introduced themselves with Ensign Potter going last. The boy looked her over carefully though Riker wasn't surprised. The nurse was gorgeous, a winner of multiple body image awards on her homeworld from pre-puberty on he had read in her file.

He seemed to not see what he was looking for though then pushed her tricorder away before quickly writing on the board. No scan hed.

He scratched that out then wrote slower and legibly Please don't scan my head or deep scans, the graves, or the SOS. Cultural prohibitions.

The nurse nodded and went back to scanning him. "You're malnourished but relatively healthy," she concluded and put away the tricorder while Pliskin still looked suspicious, keeping her hand on her phaser but her own tricorder was off. Violating a culture would get her dishonorably discharged if Riker caught her.

"Long since spoke," the young man croaked.

"Writing is fine," Riker said. "We are prepared to take you and whatever you need to either the nearest colony, transfer you back to earth so Starfleet can get you to the colony you were supposed to go to if it still exists," Harry nodded, "or we can leave you here with more supplies."

Go to Earth, the young man wrote. I'm Harry. Then he fingered his dirty, lank hair and wrote in more ways than one. He decided not to state his family name for now as Riker laughed.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Harry, Riker, and Potter began moving crates from various storage areas to closer to the airlock while Pliskin and Jasmine headed back to get the combat craft.

"All this?" Harry asked.

"More than enough room," Riker assured him. " We could probably fit another ten of these crates."

Harry flipped them open, checking them over. Botanical supplies, shrunken and transfigured magical creatures, every wand of those who perished, their personal effects, his school trunk filled with his notes from his distance education, and other paraphernalia of his enforced hermitdom.

He remembered something and turned to find his chest of carvings. He had devoted nearly a decade to carving gem-like rocks he had excavated a few kilometres away.

"These valu-valuable?"

Riker took out his tricorder then whistled. "Yeah. This is pure dilithium, pretty damn pure. When we get back to Enterprise, we'll put your claim on this planet in and the Federation will negotiate mining rights. You should make a fair amount off it."

Harry nodded. "Take," he said, pressing the teddy bear carving at him while handing Potter the cat one.

He set aside the tin soldier and ballerina shaped crystals for the other two then he and Riker hefted the crate of crystals to join the rest.

They had finished moving the crates outside when the shuttlecraft arrived and Harry paused to admire the sleek design.

Once the shuttle was loaded, Harry and Riker made one last trip through the wreckage then Harry armed the self-destruct devices throughout, surprising Riker. Who was even more surprised at Harry's next request but he nodded.

"Please. Destroy graves, sign."

Once they were in the air, Riker fired a brace of micro photon torpedoes then used the phasers to burn the graves and SOS from the planet's surface.

Harry hid the tears but the evidence couldn't be investigated by muggles.

The five were finally done in the decontamination area and Harry's property was taken to the guest quarters they assigned him as Harry settled in on the biobed, sighing as he leaned back on it, reminded of the hospital wing, even if it had been centuries since the last time he'd been under Pomfrey's occasionally untender care.

"No scans of his head, Beverly," Potter said. "Cultural issues." Starfleet's Medical Corps had recently done away with requiring rank as a test of efficiency.

She nodded. "Once again, I'm Beverly Crusher-Picard. Welcome to the Enterprise."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. Can scan. But…," he drawled off, thinking, his speech getting better with practice again. "I see results only?"

"We can do that, then I can show you a baseline of a human and you can tell me if anything's wrong? Or the computer alone can look. Then I can hardcopy it for you and delete the data."

Harry nodded. "Computer."

She nodded and started the scan once he laid back.

The biobed made a grumpling sound and she looked at it with a frown. She had spent three days reconfiguring the systems.

Beverly hit it. "Percussive maintenance."

Harry smirked. "Know well. Screen on ship fuzzy. Hit better." Even hardened against magic his affected it.

~•~

Deanna opened her hypo case and found she was out of pain relieving vasodilators.

She sighed and headed for sickbay. Then she brightened, realizing Riker should be done in decontamination and it was likely time for Beverly's coffee break. Or if her day had been bad enough, chocolate break.

The worst thing about being around humans was the constant emotional overload, Deanna mused. Half-human herself, she had grown up on Betazed, only interacting with them on occasion. She had done her medical training on Vulcan and had no issues there. It was when she went to San Francisco for Starfleet Academy then Command School and spent time around so many humans incapable of moderating their emotional transmissions that she learned the downside of minimal telepathy and powerful empathy.

When she walked into the medical bay and locked eyes with their new guest, her telepathy went active on its own and she found herself seeing his surface thoughts for half a moment before she was shoved backwards violently and he snarled angrily. "NO!"

Beverly rushed to Deanna as Riker turned to Harry, angry and confused. "Mind mine!" Harry snapped.

Deanna stood with Beverly's help. "I'm sorry," Deanna apologized. "I didn't mean to. I've never done that before except with other Betazeds."

"What happened?" Riker asked, now more confused than angry.

"I looked into his mind. He shoved me out. In more ways than one. Aside from the bruise I'm gonna get, that was actually a very interesting experience."

Harry looked sheepish and thoughtful, converting his thoughts to muggle speak before he spoke. "Mind walkers must ask permission first," he decided was best. "Minds inviolate sense of self. Rape." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth. They all nodded.

"So telepathy is part of your culture? I didn't realize there were humans capable of it when your people left," Beverly asked.

He nodded. "Governments tried to use us as weapons. We changed their minds." That statement left shudders.

When they had begun the debates to leave, Harry had been 'captured' by government forces and they had tried to force him to fight Singh and his men. Harry had elected to melt their brains out of their ears then use the goo to write his very long, very rude reply.

His captivity had sold the rest of the magicals. If Harry Potter could be captured, what chance did they have?

Harry apologized again for his reaction and tried not to look down her lowcut top. He wrapped himself in his occlumenical shields tighter, banishing the thoughts the incredibly beautiful women around him caused.

Beverly gave him a diet to follow while on board to combat his diet related diseases she hadn't seen outside of textbooks and his malnutrition then told him to return the next day for his first dental implants to be placed once they were finished growing.

He nodded and followed his escort, a pretty dark skinned security officer as Deanna got her supplies and the two went to Beverly's office for paperwork and chocolate.

~•~

Picard studied the data on Harry. He was telepathic and/or telekinetic; approximately eighteen though isotopes were at levels of someone centuries older; cultural clues of high control over mental abilities; cultural clues of insularity—if they were actually persecuted, fully understandable; orthogonal radiation production in high stress situations; Plisken believed he moved like he was combat trained; significant signs of malnutrition—completely unsurprising; Riker liked him—even with the Deanna issue; Worf had assigned a guard of course; what little he said about his people intimated he had been alone a long time with the same foods for every meal—once more, unsurprising; Beverly had overheard Harry's discussion about his Starfleet classwork and suggested he talk with her son—he looked at the copies of Harry's exam results and even if the classes were old, he had done surprisingly well for someone mostly self-taught and no engram access; and a rather dry sense of humor from his people's reports.

He put the PADD down and looked at the lion fish in his aquarium, wondering how the lad created orthogonal radiation but glad it was so minimal. Forcing a guest to stay in quarantine would have been annoying.

~•~

Harry stood in front of the replicator in his room, staring at the selections. Even discounting the dozens of things he hated and items made with them and discounting alien dishes he was reluctant to try, there were still one million choices of muggle foods.

"Butterbeer?" he tried hopefully.

"Unknown item."

"Of course not." He thought about it. "Coke?"

"Please clarify."

"Coca-Cola?"

"What temperature?"

"Fifty degrees fahrenheit, sixteen ounces, straw?" Harry asked.

It appeared and he took a delighted sip. It was better than he remembered.

He set it aside and ordered two spears of asparagus, fruit of every type he could remember, broccoli, fried chicken, and everything else he could think of.

He took small bites of each, delighting in it all—even the watermelon though on Earth he hadn't been that enamored of it. Now it was heavenly.

He brushed off some crumbs from the one piece off duty uniform his escort had replicated for him. They Weren't good combat robes—his own design: black bdu trousers, dragon leather trench coatlike robes with a hood, black dragonhide boots, and a black tee with switching charms to a nice Savile Row suit—like he preferred but it was comfortable and didn't bind his movements though the boots were too thick soled and loose.

~•~

"Are you sure you're alright?" Riker asked Deanna as they watched Brenna prepare dinner—she accepted replicated ingredients though she grew as much as she could in the hydroponics bays but refused to let the machines prepare food for her spouses. The woman was humming a ditty she had learned from studying Deanna's culture as she worked.

The roast and veggies were soon set on the table by Brenna as Riker brought the salad. Deanna poured the wine and asked, "How was your day?"

"Lovely." She was in school, trying to shore up her education to get to at least the same level as secondary school graduates. "I got 100 on my exosociology exam."

"Sounds like someone deserves a kiss," Riker said, winking.

Deanna leaned over and gave Brenna a long kiss that left Riker breathless. And annoyed. He had been fishing for one for himself.

Wesley found Harry and his security escort coming out of a holodeck, the young man looking a little dazed.

"Hi, I'm Wesley Crusher, are you okay? What program were you using? That holodeck has a weird blurring issue on faster paced programs," he said quickly. "The best holodeck to use is on the command quarters deck."

Harry was reminded of his friend, Jean-Pierre, a cousin of Fleur's who helped them build their home in the highlands of Scotland and their vacation place in Saint Marie.

"He was watching a documentary on the 21st century," Williams said. "Sir, perhaps back to your quarters?" Harry looked unsteady.

Harry nodded then turned to Wesley. "Tomorrow. Ten-Forward, lunch?"

Wesley nodded excitedly.

~•~

"I met Harry," Wesley told his mother excitedly. "We're having lunch tomorrow. With his hair cut, he looks kinda like dad did."

She smiled. "Yes, I noticed that. How was class?"

"Self-study again," he said a little bitterly.

"Jean-Luc and I discussed you spending more time on the bridge as an Acting Ensign." His eyes widened as he stared at his mother. Currently he had one duty session a week of nine hours straddling the last four hours of the morning duty session and the first five of the afternoon session. All stations had six hour workdays except command which were on for twelve hours. "As long as your grades are maintained, you'll have three days on Navigation and the Conn alternating."

He hugged his mother tightly and she made an oomph sound as he pressed the air out of her lungs by accident. "Ooh, sorry mom!"

~•~

Wesley found Harry and his security escort sitting in Ten-Forward, the escort sipping at a tall fruit filled drink while Harry was watching the people from the corner as he looked at one of the PADDs the bar used for menus.

He nodded at the boy and gestured the waitress over. "The fruit salad, the ambrosial nectar, and three flame kebabs." Guinan was grilling them at the bar and they had filled the room with the most delicious scent.

Wesley sat down at Harry's gesture and asked, "did you really score an average of 81% on the entrance exams without tutoring?"

Harry nodded. "I didn't realize they were out of date."

"Still, it's impressive, especially without engrams."

"Which are? Your mother mentioned them before."

"Oh, right. Because the knowledge required to finish secondary schools and enter Starfleet is very advanced, certain things like earth history, the basics of math, uhh, all that minor stuff?" Harry nodded. "Yeah, all that? It's implanted in our minds. It's basic knowledge we use to build on but it takes too much time to learn on its own. With engrams I was doing trigonometry in my second year of primary."

Harry nodded again. That made a lot of sense. And sounded a bit like copying someone else's memory and implanting it in your own once its purged of the first person's individuality. Useful but if it wasn't actually used, pointless since it faded away. He had used Hermione's knowledge of arithmancy and runes to start his own education. Those memories were faint or gone but his learning more advanced segments had been faster thanks to them.

"But with that info as a base, you could be ready for Starfleet within two years easily."

Harry shook his head. "Going to my people's goal. There were man ships. They need to know what happened to the others."

"What planet?"

Harry shook his head. "Classified. Star charts memorized."

"Understandable. Wanna see more of the ship? The captain authorized you to visit everything except inside weapons storage."

Harry nodded at that. More information towards building his own ship, including all the unclassified metallurgical data, warp factor formulas, and so on.

Done with his meal, they left the bar.

As they walked, Wesley asked, "How're you gonna get there?"

Harry was getting better at using his words but had a flashback to not discussing his finances with Ron. He froze for a moment then remembered Ron was long dead. "Lots of Dilithium on planet, planetary mining rights mine. Use that to buy a warp ship. Top score on the pilot simulator on ship."

"We can run the academy simulator program on the holodeck. You'll be able to see the one I just passed."

That was more exciting to Harry than the tour.

~•~

Riker was just coming on duty and nursing a mug of coffee—he had pulled duty on the battle bridge so he could have his caffeine fix—when one of his personal programs was accessed. He verified it wasn't one of the more personal ones like Caligula's Rumpus Room—a pre-marriage program—and saw it was just one of the more advanced flight simulations. He noticed it was Frank-Unicorn-Kilo, his most difficult one—it was better known as the Riker-Fucking-Hates-Me program or the Kabayashi-Maru-of-shuttles program—and checked the user: "Ahh," he mused aloud and pulled up the cockpit view.

Inside the holodeck he could see Wesley taking the co-pilot's seat while Harry slumped in the pilot's, taking a moment to adjust its height and moving it forward. The young man studied the layout intently as he heard Wesley describing the capabilities of the jitney. The difficulty of the program was ratcheted up by the shuttle being 'filled with passengers' and under attack by Orion slavers.

The display stopped showing the gold and black triangle covered wall and instead a solid polymer ring around Dri Four, a pleasure planet near Vulcan.

Harry began powering up the shuttle and ran it through the training scenarios that were built in to all shuttles.

~•~

Harry finished the training sequences then the mission began. He flew through the asteroid field, ignoring the proximity sensors as they nearly burst his ear drums. "Shut those off, set them to visual."

Wesley did as told as Harry did a languid barrel roll and a new siren filled the air as the sensors detected Romulan Raider class scouts, armed and locking on at the same time as the distress call of a Federation shuttle.

Forty minutes later of harrowing flights through asteroid fields, every torpedo being sabotaged, the phasers burning out after disabling one Raider, a second raider destroyed by it flying into a meteor, and a third hitting the minefield of sabotaged torpedoes, the fourth raider destroyed their shuttle. And the holodeck.

Wesley and Harry exited the holodeck, coughing, eyes watering from the heavy smoke caused by the damage they had caused. An engineering team, Dr. Crusher, and Worf all appeared due to Williams alert.

Crusher scanned them as Wesley excitedly informed them how Harry and he had improvised turning the disabled micro torpedoes into proximity mines, how Harry had flown into paths of asteroids and utilized the gravitational fields of Romulan ships to destroy one of their followers before they died.

"A glorious death," Worf rumbled. Harry thought the stoic alien might have had a glint of admiration in his eye.

"Impressive," the engineer said after finishing the diagnostics. "He was pushing the processors beyond their capacity. They got so hot they burnt through their neural gelpacks and caused significant damage."

Harry started to apologize but both engineers waived it off. "Gives us a reason to upgrade all the holodecks," one said happily, the others nodded excitedly. "Which means we get to order the new modules from Starfleet." New modules had been noncritical so they were low on the supply requisition but with a core burnout, they were now a high priority. One of the engineers looked at Harry with a gimlet eye, wondering what else he could be sicced on to raise it up the resupply requisition list.

"I've never heard of anyone lasting longer than fifteen minutes in that simulation," Williams said.

"14:23," Riker said as he turned the corner. "What happened?"

Wesley explained it again, even more animatedly.

When Riker looked at Harry, the young man shrugged. "I like flying."

"He's definitely a source of orthagonal radiation," Beverly told her husband.

Jean-Luc studied the file. "How much?"

"Not much. Not enough to cause problems but when he's agitated, it rises. When he and Nurse Potter were discussing her family leaving their colony, he got agitated then very depressed."

"Interesting. Shame he won't discuss his culture but it's understandable. He wants to find out if his people still exist. He made it sound like they were quite persecuted. Even discounting time causing the stories to worsen through the generations, it's a horrid tale."

Beverly nodded. "He and Wesley are getting along well. He understands most aspects of Starfleet training even if its fifty years old. It's interesting his radio was able to pick up those old transmissions."

"We detected the remnants of the Praxian on Gedix III, its computers still working but damaged. Instead of sending an SOS on the subspace systems, it sent its educational database over radio." An older Starfleet academy ship. "How's his medical health beyond that?"

"Fixing his malnourishment. He let me scan his head but looked at the results himself. I kept the results but they're in a locked file." In case it was needed to diagnose him if he were injured while aboard.

Picard nodded and speared a hunk of coconut fish from her plate.

"Bastard," she teased.

"A courier ship will be coming alongside in two days. He'll transfer to that so make sure his files are ready to transfer."

"How much dilithium is on the planet?" Beverly asked, looking at the crystal bellflower he had given her. She flicked it and it chimed delicately. She wondered how he had fit the bell onto the vine since it was a ball-joint.

"The scans, even discounting refraction, he'll be able to buy Ferenginar." The lieutenant who had done the scan had left his notes in the file with the almost not hyperbolic statement that the planet was more dilithium than planet.

"His scans are strange. The isotopes in his system… they say he's like 386 years old."

"He must have a wonderful moisturizer," Picard mused.

Beverly laughed at that. "I hope his cellular structure isn't too badly damaged from the elements on that planet. His cellular diffusion say he's about eighteen. He deserves a good long life somewhere.

"Wesley is really enjoying their study sessions," she changed the subject. "Things Wesley had issues with before? Once he started trying to explain them to Harry, he found himself really understanding the material." Wesley was a genius but even geniuses struggled outside their fields if they didn't devote time to them.

"Once I became a TA at the academy, I learned a lot more," Jean-Luc affirmed. "Perhaps dessert?"

"I didn't prepar—oh!" She smiled at him.

Picard was a little annoyed with himself. Harry had been aboard nearly three weeks now but he was just now having the time to meet him. Officer reviews, a significant level of eyes-only files, and a report on a number of Federation outposts along what was known as the badlands—the longest border of Federation space not abutting other Empires like the Romulans, Klingons, Breen, Cardassians, and Tholians and full of systems being robotically explored for life or being terraformed—had kept him fully occupied.

He walked into the holodeck and found Harry, Wesley, and a few other young ensigns and older teenagers were watching the Parrises Squares team practicing for the next tournament on Deep Space Station B-4.

~•~

Harry shook Picard's hand as Wesley introduced them. The man had a presence about him that Fudge would have sold his soul to have. An aura of respectability and fully justified pride.

"Thanks Again for the ride," Harry said.

"It's our honor," Picard replied. "And, at the least, our duty. I saw your test scores. Have you rethought joining Starfleet?"

Harry shrugged. "Finding the planet we attempted to colonize has to be a priority. Failing that, Federation service is a possibility."

Harry thanked the pilot and the engineering crew of the courier ship—they ran their engines at such close tolerances that courier ships often had 15 to 30 engineers hot bunking and a single pilot that lived on the bridge leaving Harry in a small room and utterly gobsmacked at their dedication to their 9.88 warp speed capable ship—then turned and nodded at the Federation representatives awaiting him.

~•~

Three days of negotiations had gotten Harry exactly what he needed, a warp capable ship—in fact a captain's yacht from a galaxy class ship armed with seven phase banks and two pairs of micro-torpedo projectors—that was being refitted to withstand orthogonal radiation; Hwart's Valley, a wooded preserve in Northern Scotland that people avoided for its naturally occurring high orthogonal radiation—he had convinced the Earth Council he would explain what he could if he found his people; so much latinum someone joked every Ferengi ever orgasmed the moment Harry signed his name and mark—to others it looked like a stylized X, to Harry it was both his wands crossed, his personal rune; a pilot to train him up on the ship before he left; a second decommissioned starship that was just hull and keel—they had nodded knowingly since he would soon be rich enough to turn it into any type of ship he wanted; and entrance to the Academy as a civilian auditor if he wished. Harry wasn't sure if he was going to accept that. Their psychological profiling was too good for him to keep his secrets to enter as a prospective cadet and a civilian auditor meant no interesting postings.

~•~

Commodore Cantor opened the new intelligence file on Harry 'X' and read it carefully, occasionally looking at the photos of the young man on his wall screen.

He opened another file.

The occasional child was marked as causing this same type of radiation in high stress moments but nearly all disappeared by age ten into an advanced education track with their parents receiving offers to move to a colony that eschewed Federation contact. The majority took it while those who stayed on earth wouldn't discuss their children's education beyond small talk.

When the students returned to the Federation ten years later, they were mostly uninterested in Federation, Starfleet, or remaining on Earth or their colony worlds. They usually left the Federation records permanently after age 21.

Cantor flipped to students that didn't enter the education track and saw the majority also left higher tech colonies and emigrated to worlds dedicated to earlier ideals like the Mennonite colony in the Praxis system or other farming worlds. None had ever entered Starfleet it looked like. They also stopped causing the radiation over time.

Cantor flipped to the medical information they had collected on a number of the children, including two who had passed away in accidents and had their bodies stolen before they could be incinerated. Each had deeper sulcus and a darker gyrus than baseline as well as a highly developed web of connective tissue in the Longitudinal Fissure. There seemed to be no physiological reason for these differences.

He looked at the autopsy of those adults who had eschewed the educational track. The connective tissue had atrophied though their brain matter kept the darker tone and deeper sulcus.

Operatives of Section 31 who had tried to find the colony had found nothing in the Sirius system beyond the known colonies and the ruins of a failed colony called Londinium that was used as a refueling and landing station by the colonies since there was an underground train between them all and a desire not to have loud noises over the capitol colony of Arcanium or the other six colonies. The other habitable planet had been destroyed by a failed terraforming job and was uninhabitable.

Cantor closed the files and checked to see if Lt. Morrissey had placed the tracking device on the yacht as he had been tasked.

~•~

Harry shook the hands of Lt. Commander Juno Castle and Ensign Alexis Eclipse, trying not to stare at either woman's cleavage—three hundred years of being alone had him forgetting how to deal around beautiful women, he found. He wrapped his lustful thoughts in his mind away from his working thoughts, remembering just then he had almost eidetic memory.

This was a civilian assignment so both were in their own clothing. For Eclipse a merchant marine pilot's white jumpsuit unzipped to her navel, high heeled boots with metal shanks and open toes on them, and a brightly colored floral fishnet bodysuit beneath. Castle wore a low cut tank under a leather jacket and a short skirt over neon striped tights and high heeled boots. She reminded him of Tonks. "Wow, a captain's yacht with combat modifications? How did you swing this?" Juno asked.

"I asked please and smiled winningly," he replied, aping Lockhart's smile. Both women blushed a little bit as his eyes twinkled, seemingly promising pleasure beyond measure. He left out the compulsion charms to grant him the dispensation to acquire contemporary equipment instead of surplus that wouldn't reach Sirius in less than six months.

"Eclipse will be your training officer," Castle said as soon as she had calmed her heart enough. "I'll be evaluating her conduct to verify she's ready to be a full time training pilot."

Harry nodded and they headed towards the simulators as the dry-dock workers began disassembling Harry's new ship. They were adding the radiation protection the Enterprise had used on the craft that had rescued him.

~•~

Harry had passed the instruction sessions in less than three weeks and since both women were on TAD for the three months required to refit his ship, they were playing tour guide, showing Harry around the various cities of Earth.

The first city was San Francisco and the few times Harry slipped—he had been there a number of times in the early 2000s—he had been able to play it off as having expected it to be a certain way due to the books on his ship.

Alexis pushed a door open. "This is the best Chinese restaurant in the Americas."

As they sat down and the waitress poured tea, Alexis told Harry, "They grow their food themselves—"

"Just the vegetables and spices. We use in vitro pork and chicken with the beef being synthesizer fare. The seafood is naturally grown in Japan," the waitress corrected.

Alexis nodded in thanks for the correction.

"In vitro?" Harry asked. That sounded familiar but he had done his biology work years before.

"Cuts of meat grown in a lab instead of real animal on a farm."

Harry nodded. "Oh, right, I remember that now. How Kahn and his followers were created."

"He was?" Juno asked. "All the data from back then was lost. Well, not all but most of it. If you have access to stuff from back then, Terra Archaeology would be ecstatic."

Harry took out his pad of paper—the PADD Deanna had given him after he had apologized for hurting her (with a chocolate tart) had burnt out on him after he absentmindedly used a summoning charm on it—and made a note to check his files. A former Auror, he had very good chronicling habits ingrained both by Kingsley and Hermione.

Harry ordered the mu shu pork—he loved cabbage except when it was fermented—and the house vegetarian dish—once he verified it didn't have cauliflower—along with his favorite cocktail, Death In the Afternoon.

Over the next few weeks, the Alexis and Juno happily showed him the most populous cities and their hometowns, Crabapple Cove, Maine and Toledo, Idaho respectively. As the weeks passed, he and Alexis grew closer and closer. Her parents had adored him and Alexis's elder brother, a Lieutenant in Starfleet on leave had bonded with him easily over their love of flying antique ultralights.

Their final stop was New Orleans on the last day of Mardi Gras.

Harry and the ladies were in their first bar of the evening for some jazz and drinks when Juno asked, "How come you're not tossing beads at the girls?" He had bought a fifty strands of them.

"I thought about it but realized I'd rather spend the evening with the two most beautiful women on this planet than throw beads at women. Of course, if you'd like to earn some beads," he said teasingly as he fingered the strands on his neck. Both women had been as flirtatious with him over the weeks as he had been with them.

"I'm sure I can earn a lot more than a single string of beads," Juno said, putting her hand on his thigh.

"I think we both can," Alexis said, unzipping her vest to show she had nothing on beneath.

Harry's voice croaked as he said, "Re-really?" He flushed brightly then shook his head. "Forget I said that," he started again, this time banishing his nervous feelings behind shields of metaphorical stone. "I think I could show you both pleasure without measure." He smiled, accidentally pushing magic into his personal akashic field, reinforcing the same smile he had given them when they first met. It once again promised THAT pleasure without measure. Both women elected to take him up on it.

The next morning the three awoke a few minutes after eight, all hung over from too much ojen to the sound of a shrill comm badge.

Alexis realized it was hers, kissed both of them goodbye and was teleported right out of the hotel room and to Starfleet Command after claiming 24 strands of beads for herself.

Juno put her cami over her eyes and softly said, "Any chance you're not too hung over to get breakfast?"

Harry chuckled and kissed the only visible portion of her body, the inside of her forearm.

He returned a few minutes later with beignets, spiced coffee, orange slices, a bottle of pomegranate juice, and a hangover curative the woman in the dining room called a sazerac. She had also given him two tooth cleansing pills.

Once her hangover was gone and the food consumed, Juno decided she needed another go with Harry to make sure she didn't forget him. Harry gave her the grin again before making sure she never forgot him.

At two thirty, as they finished up a leisurely late lunch, Juno's comm badge shrilled and she was ordered to report to her CO for her new assignment.

Harry shook her hand and they promised to keep in contact, taking along 24 strings herself, leaving him two strings as souvenirs along with some intimate holograms of the three in action. Then Harry watched her go, dropping back into a chair.

I can't believe that happened, he mused to himself. He hadn't expected to ever meet someone he'd actually want to sleep with but here he was, fresh off a threesome like it was three centuries ago and his wives still lived: though back then the actual times that all three of them shared the same bed were his birthdays or very special occasions and the occasional nights Hermione indulged in a second glass of wine, otherwise both women preferred to have his full attention.

He shrugged it off. While he hoped to run into them both again, they were career Starfleet and he doubted he would.

His own comm badge trilled and a brief descending minor arpeggio informed him he had messages on his computer on the ship.

He used his comm badge to call for a shuttle—he was not going to risk using a transporter until he knew for sure it wouldn't affect his magic—to take him back to the dry dock in Tonga.

He tipped the pilot a slip of latinum—the lack of a standardized paper or metal currency was weird, especially since Earth wasn't as communist as Starfleet files made it sound—and saw his ship was nearly done. All that was left was refitting the baffle plates and having an engineering team verify flight-worthiness.

He thought about the economy of the Federation as he waited for a reply from Starfleet Engineering.

A typical adult received 1000 tokens a month and a child received 1300 until they were nine then it dropped to 1150 until they came of age with educational vouchers for various items that could be redeemed and not use up tokens.

Those tokens and vouchers could be used at commercial and industrial replicators or the tokens could be traded for fresh foods or used in restaurants because in-home replicators, while meeting nutritional needs, didn't produce the most appealing foods. But if one could save up 36,000 tokens they could purchase a better quality replicator. The vouchers were used at the better quality replicators or in stores to purchase items. Juno had mentioned how it would have taken 1800 tokens to purchase a replacement violin if she hadn't had an extra musical instrument voucher since her brother never used his having taken up the piano and they had one in the house already.

Harry shook it off. It was all too complicated for him and was glad that even with their 'moneyless' society, he could just use latinum to buy the things he needed. He was a little disappointed he hadn't been able to find a black market though. He wanted a phaser. Mostly to tinker with.

The message came in: an engineering team would have him certified by 1100 hours local time the next morning, arriving at 0830.

Morrissey shook Harry's hand. "She's good to go sir. I noticed you haven't named her yet?"

"I wasn't sure what this class was named after. I know you use a naming pattern for each class."

"The yachts are named after nautical allusions usually."

He thought about it a moment then realized the perfect one. "Is Alcyone taken?" His and Fleur's first daughter's name. Her twin brother had been Henri after her father and as Hal was short for Henry, the two had often been called Alcyone and Halcyon. It never was when the two got mischievous.

Morrissey checked his PADD, also verifying the tracker was working.

"Want me to place it in the registry?"

Harry nodded and a bottle of replicated Dom Perignon and five minutes later, the ship was christened, the name expertly applied with a beautiful typeface by the only ensign he hadn't gotten the name of: he said was called Sun Queen, a thicker variant of the Queen of the Moon typeface he used on the menu of his parents' restaurant. It was a magnificent gold holographic foil over the so-dark-of-purple-it-was-almost-black color he had had his ship painted along with the modified nacelles—red gels over the nacelles and blue gels over the bussard ramscoop to turn both a nearly matching purple that had a Galaxy class captain that was passing by asking if it would be possible to make his ship's nacelles green.

They left and Harry stepped aboard his ship. The walls were a soft dove blue-grey, covering the reflective coating to protect the ship's electronics from his magic. The computers were hardened by himself, using the same material but also using 438 crystals engraved with magic sapping runes, creating a skew polygon that was a magic free area around the navigation console as well as more around the replicator, the engines, other computers in the ship, life support, and the nacelles.

As soon as he touched the console, he felt a deadening in his fingers, a lot like the magic sapping power of a Dementor, he mused. Shaking off the memory of those things, he activated a dictaquill and an endless parchment scroll and began speaking.

"It's 16, February 2366," Harry said. "The stardate is," he paused, checking the computer. "43125.02. Which still makes no sense to me but whatever. Currently leaving Earth—again!—to travel to Sirius. At warp three, it's a two week journey. The engines are rated for faster but I want to have an expert break them in for me if I can't build my own warp capable ship using magic."

He cast a spell, turning the carpet from a utilitarian grey close knit to luxurious white shag Fleur had had done to all their homes. The spell burnt out the tracker before it could even begin its duties. Harry kicked off his boots and socks and dug his toes into the shag as he received permission to break orbit and enter the trade lanes heading out of system. "Had a threesome last night. It's been a long time since I last had anything but my hand. Had to scramble to remember the numbing charm George taught me so I could last longer. Juno was better but I would date Eclipse exclusively because, well, redheads just aren't my thing, even if Hermione looked incredible as one." She had gone as Mary Jane Watson for halloween the year before their first children while Fleur had gone as slightly pregnant with their twins Felicia Hardy/Black Cat and Harry had been battle damaged Spider-Man. "Earth is so different than when we left. Mostly utopian but disturbing at the same time. It makes me wonder just what villains are in the background making sure this utopia can continue." Harry knew intimately that utopias couldn't exist in a vacuum. "Met a Ferengi, was reminded of a more genial goblin. And I didn't find a hint of magical creatures or other races but there're the more benign plants everywhere. Some muggle royal maintains a centuries old magical garden for tourists wanting to see rare plants. Stole some clippings to make some potions without disturbing my stock.

"I also got Hogwarts Valley and archaeological rights to a number of sites around Earth. The Goblins were supposed to have backfilled all their warrens but I suspect they didn't, not to mention that there's no way we found everything on the planet. Proof is this," he said, taking a stone carving he had found in a museum. He had gone to the bathroom and transfigured a copy from a bog roll then switched the two. Studying it, he could feel the magic simmering just below the surface. He was shocked that even with the runes mostly defaced, the enchanting work still functioned.

Harry placed it under a stasis bubble then went to get a mug of Earl Grey tea. Potter had gotten him reacquainted with Hermione's second favorite tea. "Not sure what the stone does but the magic on it is Merlinesque. Dumbledore's journals make me think it could be from Atlantis, perhaps a keystone?" The pieces that helped make the island fly. "Perhaps it flies on its own now though." They had brought it over on ship number seven. "Been dreaming of seeing people with Hermione's eyes, Fleur's hair and cheeks, Neville's pudgy face, Luna's demeanor. Even hoping to see a Malfoy, if only so I can pop them in the jaw." Feeling maudlin and a touch despondent, he stopped the dictaquill and tried to stop feeling without using occlumency.

~•~

He was six days into his trip when a barking hoot sound from the computer—he had used the vocalizations of various owls to signify certain things—alerted him to the fact that someone was hailing him using a Starfleet standard frequency.

"Ahoy, PRS—" Private Registry Starship "—Alcyone. This is the Federation Cutter Cutty Sark."

Harry rolled off his bunk and opened hailing frequencies. He saw the bridge of the Cutter, crewed by a handful of people, their captain a Commander, a grandmotherly looking woman with a dark red cardigan over her uniform.

"Hi. How ya doing? We noticed you were just sitting in space. Thought you might need assistance."

Harry shook his head. "Just finished replacing some isolinear chips and was taking a break before setting course." They hadn't been protected by a magic free ward. He had made a new one to protect them and had elected to rest afterwards.

She nodded. "Lovely paint job."

Harry thanked her and told them it was a favored color. His daughters had loved purple-black and it had rubbed off on him then he asked if they were looking for any trade items.

Fifty minutes later, Harry was back on his way, a crate of Chateau Picard wine, a pound of gouda, and some luxury salts traded to him for 18 pounds of rib eye steaks and his recipe for a sweet and smoky rub. Ostensibly he was worse off—real beef sold for three slips a pound and the crate was only worth 32 slips but he had tried the same vintage on the Enterprise during a dinner with the command staff and was a fan.

As the ship flew on, he headed down to his kitchen—the cargo area had been refit as a professional kitchen with a chef's table—and settled in to prepare himself an oaty baguette to pair with the cheese and wine.

Harry studied the scans of the Sirius system. The third planet had six colonies arrayed around a seventh abandoned colony, the hyperloop tubes between them and the abandoned colony making them look like a wagon wheel. The second planet, also in the habitable zone, was interdicted by Federation law due to atmospheric contamination and storms that caused issues with navigational arrays caused by a failed terraforming he learned, the fourth and fifth were gas giants, one with a habitable moon that had been a Federation testing ground for a few decades before the programs were cut. Now it was an unmanned listening post.

He received permission to land on Alpha III and soon found himself studying the area. Most footsteps in the area led to a stairwell into the underground but he saw faint footprints leading to a standing wall. A brick wall. When every other half-destroyed wall was a prefab piece of ship that doubled as a shelter on a planet.

Harry closed his eyes and mentally cast 'Ceroculum!'

Light exploded before him, gold, purple, green, blue, a highway of magical light leading from where he stood while freshly cast spells had left traces around him like the Weasley fireworks of old.

Harry opened his eyes as he canceled the spell and moved forward, wiping away dust where he saw a glint of gold. As the dust was removed, a small bronze plaque on the wall was revealed. It read Platform 9 & ¾.

"Magic!" Harry squealed, utterly delighted.