DISCLAIMER: Bioware owns everything Mass Effect. This work is not for profit.

A/N - This is my attempt at an HP / Mass Effect crossover. A few things that I'd like to disclose upfront

1. This story does not have a Commander Shepard. Harry Potter is, for all intents and purposes, Shepard.

2. There is no Element Zero. No biotics. And tragically, no biotiball.

3. Human beings are the only sapient / intelligent creatures on Planet Earth. No centaurs. No merpeople. And unfortunately, no Veela. For goblins, see the next note.

4. There are no volus. They're all goblins in this story. I may delve into the history of Planet Earth, but I don't think there'll be a goblin-run Gringotts. Goblins, for all intents and purposes, are alien to Earth, and - for those unfamiliar with Mass Effect - native to a planet called Irune.

5. Technomancy is a thing. The non-magicals use it to stay on par with their magical brethren.

6. The asari are an all-magical race that do not quite require wands, mimicking the ME biotics spread among the races. The turians and salarians shall be heavily biased towards technomancy, though they will have sorcerors too. Same goes for the Krogan

7. Magicals are rare among non-asari races

8. There are no unforgivables in this universe. Shields work almost universally, though they may crumble in the face of the most powerful spells / technomancy powered weapons. But normal combat shall involve the whittling down of shields - which may be generated either through technomancy, or sustained through a Protego.

9. Several magical creatures may take over the more... native creatures on each planet. Such as in this very chapter.

The shuttle rattled and the walls groaned as the three-million-credit coffin plummeted into the atmosphere of an ugly brown planet light years away from Jump Zero. A corporal with a five o'clock shadow leaned forward in his seat, staring right across at a black-haired young man with brilliant green eyes and a special forces "N3" patch on his blood-red armour.

"So… how, in the name of all that is good and holy, did you make N-seven?" Toombs asked the green-eyed man, "I mean…. Those guys have a height limit, right?"

Ronald Weasley - a tall, gangly redhead who had seated himself diagonally opposite Toombs - laughed and shoved playfully at the black-haired man who the corporal had just addressed. "Told you someone would ask about that, Harrykins," he said brightly.

Harry scowled. "Shut it, Toombs," he said in a snippy tone, "And two things – one, I'm not N-seven… not yet, anyway. And two, I'm not that short."

The men and women sitting around them burst into laughter at that comment and Harry grinned, despite himself, as Ron patted him on the back with a mock sympathetic tilt of his head.

"Seriously though," Dean said, checking his knee pads for wear, and repeating the same question he had asked five minutes ago, "Does anyone have the name of this planet with the distress signal?"

"If the midget N-seven doesn't know…" Toombs said and Ron cracked up again.

"Oh for the love of…" Harry groaned, "I'm not N-seven. And why would you think being short is such a huge obstacle in the way of getting to N-three?"

"Have you ever seen a short N-seven?" Toombs asked him with a raised eyebrow, "Especially one as short as you? 'Cos I totally haven't."

"Really?" Harry snapped, "You've never seen a female N-seven?"

"I… find that remark mildly sexist," said a husky voice from the seat closest to the flat metal panel that separated the passenger compartment from the pilot's cabin.

Harry gulped, stared at his commanding officer – Staff Commander Jane Steepleton, a tall brunette woman with immense shoulders and a strong jaw – and scrambled to defend himself. "I'm just saying… the average height of women…" he stammered.

"… is probably greater than yours, short stuff," Asha completed from his left, "Which is why you will never get laid."

Harry flushed while Toombs, Dean and Ron snickered.

"Best to let go while you're a teenie bit behind, mate," Ron advised.

"Best listen to the good-lookin' redhead," Asha echoed, with a flirtatious wink at Ron over Harry's head.

"Sorry Asha," Ron said, winking right back at the brunette, "Already taken." Ron flashed the ring on his hand, and then began to pull on his gloves as Asha sighed melodramatically.

Harry grumbled to himself and stared at the shuddering floor of the shuttle, not even daring to look in Ron's direction. The sight of that ring was not something he had steeled his heart for. Not yet.

"Harry," Hermione said with a frown, her bushy completely frazzled and her eyes wide with a tinge of pity, "I'm… I just… I…"

Harry braced for the blow, and felt his bottom drop out of his stomach. He tried desperately to work his mouth to form a smile, but his face seemed incapable of displaying even a modicum of happiness.

"I love Ron," Hermione said simply, her voice breaking, "I always did. Harry… I never even looked at you that way… I just…"

Harry pursed his lips and let out a deep breath.

"Harry," Hermione said softly, her hand rising to cradle his cheek, but he flinched away. "Harry," she repeated, her hand dropping back to her side dejectedly, "Why do you do this to yourself?"

He grimaced as he went through the usual pre-mission checks, performing last-minute tests of his equipment and armour.

Functioning omni-tool. Check.

Spare heat sinks. Check.

Oxygen. Check.

Optimal internal environment. Check.

Functioning sub-dermal wand. Check.

Harry idly watched lightning arc between his fingertips as he flexed his magic and felt power course through his veins at a simple runic gesture of his hand.

"Maybe," Toombs said, watching him carefully, "Warlocks have an easier time of the ICT?"

"Oi!" Ron said indignantly, "I'm a warlock!"

"Oh yeah," Toombs said curiously, "You two stayed at the villa together, didn't you?"

Ron shrugged. "I left early," he said, "Barely passed N-one, dropped out the week after."

"No shame in that," Asha said emphatically, winking at him again.

"Just sayin'," Ron said, jerking a thumb at Harry, "He might be my best bud, but bloody hell, was I made aware of my own limitations when this guy breezed right through everything the villa threw at him."

"I didn't breeze through it," Harry scoffed, "I barely held on."

"Whatever you say, midget," Toombs said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, "I personally think there's a lot more 'On your knees soldier' involved in your N-seven qualification than you're telling us, Potter."

"Uh huh," Harry said, looking at Toombs dully, "In your dreams, corporal."

"Yeah," Dean said enthusiastically, "Harry doesn't have to get on his knees. He's already the right height!"

Harry groaned again as the teammates he was getting ready to murder burst into laughter. Again.

"You guys are the worst teammates, ever," he said, exasperated, "Way to make a guy feel… er…"

"Small?" Asha completed, giggling at him. She then clapped him on the shoulder and said, "We're just ribbing you… you know that, right? Taking the piss, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry grumbled, and then flashed her a grin.

"Maybe we can get together for a post-mission workout and you can show me where you're not short, eh?" she said with a wink, and Harry flushed again.

"We've seen him in the showers," Dean stage-whispered, "And I think Harry makes up for his… er… height very well."

Asha and Ron stared at Dean.

"So… after that awkward interlude where Dean came out of the closet and confessed his love for my best friend's dong," Ron said jovially, "Let's finally see Harrykins get somewhere with a woman!"

Toombs snickered and Harry palmed his face, not trusting himself to speak.

"Alright boys!" the CO said abruptly, standing up, "We're here! That distress signal is still going strong. Couple of wildcat miners dug themselves right into a cave-in. We get in there, save those poor suckers, and get right out!"

Harry got up and sent out a burst of magic again. The helmet clamped down over his head, letting out a hiss of compressed air and his shield burst into existence around him. He nodded to Ron and Dean, who cast their own shields around themselves. A blue sizzle indicated that the non-magicals had activated their own shields as well, powered by technomancy rather than the pure magic of the human warlocks.

"Any idea what we're going to be dealing with, ma'am?" he asked, his voice echoing in his teammates' headsets, "Apart from the miners?"

The CO shrugged. "No idea, LT," she said, "But the brass says a couple of scout ships have performed recon on the area – the area shows signs of an earthquake, and the timing of the distress signal seems pretty consistent with the last known tremor on the planet. We land, we blast that entrance apart and we pick 'em out."

"Sounds simple enough," Ron commented.

The CO merely nodded and looked at her omni-tool, frowning.

"Sounds like a pretty simple op for an entire platoon, ma'am," Harry ventured, "Are the other shuttles sitting this one out?"

The CO looked up at him, and Harry could make out her troubled eyes through her helmet.

"Brass says we're all to deploy," she muttered, "Something about this being a good opportunity for a full-strength team exercise… or some such."

"Rear echelon mother…" Ron grumbled.

"We've been crammed in here for twelve hours," the CO interrupted lightly, "May as well get you lazy suckers to haul ass and carry out a simple mission. Consider this a training exercise, of sorts."

"Standard search and rescue op," Harry corrected. The CO merely grinned at him.

"Commander Steepleton," Dean asked, "Quick question – what's the name of this damn planet?"

"Official nomenclature says it's AR2123-A," the CO replied, "But the planet does have another name – a more recent one that's not quite official yet.

"Akuze."

8 months later

Harry shivered as the cold air touched the bare skin at the back of his neck and pulled his scarf tighter around himself. There was no chirping of birds, no gentle banter of civilians, and despite the cool morning breeze, there was a stillness around him that was almost stifling.

BANG!

Gunshots resounded in the open space, and Harry grit his teeth, forcing himself not to wince, not to give in to the waking nightmares that had never ceased to subside in the wake of Akuze.

"Harry?" Asha whimpered, unseeing, as she clawed at his chest-piece, her nails scraping in futile manner against the special-forces label he had once so proudly affixed to its front, "Harry? Harry! I can't… I don't think… Harry, I can't…"

"Asha," he whispered, his voice breaking, "Hold on, don't let go, please… please, please, please…"

"ON THE LEFT!" came their CO's voice in his helmet, "Watch out! To my left!"

Harry dragged Asha behind the metal walls of what was once a prefab shelter as he looked around wildly, hoping against hope, despite the immense guilt that rose up within him, that their CO was far, far away from them.

And a massive, plumed, serpentine head burst out of the ground not ten feet away from him, its maw gaping wide with rows of razor-sharp fangs gleaming in the pale light of the foreign sun that shone over the planetary hellscape they found themselves in. Harry threw his hand outward instinctively, sending a massive burst of fire at it, but he knew it was hopeless. The armoured hide creaked due to the force of his attack, but Harry was forced to throw himself away from Asha as the maw crashed into the space between them.

"Aaaaarrrgghhh!" Harry screamed as he unloaded upon the creature with the gun in his right hand, even as his left slashed downwards, sending an enormous arc of white light slashing right through the carapace of the hellish creature.

The maw came apart with a screech, showering him in blood and gore and the rest of the body flopped to the ground, writhing in the throes of death.

And to his horror, as the smoke cleared, he witnessed Asha standing up, groping around for her lost weapon in vain.

"Harry!" she screamed, her voice breaking in a manner that squeezed a choked sob from him, "Harry! Is it gone? Harry! I can't… I can't see! Harry, I can't see!"

"Asha!" he screamed, "Stay DOWN!"

And another massive, plumed head burst forth, toppling the metal pillar Asha had been leaning against.

"No!" Harry gasped.

For a fleeting moment, he saw Asha standing there, her black hair swaying in an unseen wind, her eyes scarred by acid, her hand outstretched, her gloved fingers searching, hoping for a saviour. Helplessly striving to reach some form of shelter. Desperately clawing for providence.

The maw swooped down and Harry merely stared in horror as Asha's scream was muffled by a bestial roar and a storm of fangs.

Harry curled his fists until his fingernails were digging into his palm and cursed as his entire body began to shudder uncontrollably. He was stronger than this. He needed to be stronger than this.

With great effort, he prised apart the fingers of his left hand and ran it through his messy hair in a nervous gesture. He was here for more than just the funeral of his entire platoon. His erstwhile family.

He needed, wanted to see her. To see some sliver of forgiveness in her eyes. Some relief for the incessant guilt that plagued him.

"Ron!" Harry yelled into his helmet, frantically wiping away at the dirt on his visor and cursing the HUD that had long since been disabled, "Ron, where are you?"

A roar sounded from his right and Harry crouched lower into the pile of rocks, trying not to hear the shrieks of pain and cries of horror as his platoon was massacred by the fell wyrms that the planet itself seemed to spawn with dreadful frequency. He shuddered in place, with flashes of Mindoir flooding his mind and tearing him asunder from within as the world burned without.

His helmet replied to his plea with static.

He raised his head above the mound ever so slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of his teammates and steal some sliver of hope, only to see a flat plain, pockmarked with crevasses and chasms that burned with fell magicks.

"Commander?" he asked, his voice echoing faintly through his helmet, across the bare plains. No one replied.

The ground rumbled underneath him; Harry screwed his eyes shut, and collapsed to the ground again, curling involuntarily and waiting for the horrendous maw to open up once more and swallow him whole.

Nothing happened. Seconds of panic turned into minutes of dread that stretched into an hour of nerve-wracking silence.

Finally, Harry opened his eyes to a different sort of rumble – the dull sputter of an A-61 Mantis clunking onto the rock mere feet away from him.

"Son," a voice came from his left, and he looked up to see an N-seven officer, flanked by a squad of marines, looking down at him. The officer's helmet was tilted, though Harry could not tell if it was a gesture of curiosity or compassion. "Are you alright?" the man asked again, a hint of British seeping through the American accent.

Harry stared at the apparition for a moment, then looked around at the bare rock plains around him and beheld the smoking chasms that dotted its surface. No other soul could be seen, no familiar voice that echoed in his ears, and no other survivor to soothe his conscience.

He was alone. He had survived.

He had failed.

He collapsed onto his knees, his arms trembling wildly, and the world turned blurry as the marines crowded around him.

Hydra. That was what the other races of the galaxy called the great beast that had torn apart his team.

Cut off one head, and another grows in its place. A magical parasite that infected entire worlds. More than a challenge on an ATV, and absolutely deadly on foot.

Fat lot of good that knowledge did them now.

He strolled across the meadow, towards the solemn crowd that had gathered around the four dozen… coffins that lay gleaming under the bright morning sun, the innocent blue sky mocking him with its azure, naïve cheer. He paused before the solemn procession of marines that marched out, stared at the coffins for a long moment and smiled, his curved lips creased with pain and his eyes beginning to water, as he spotted the casket of the man who had once been his best friend.

Ron Weasley.

An orange coffin.

A Chudley fan to the end, brother.

Harry clasped his hands together tightly, as if trying to choke out the pain that had blossomed in his chest, and made his way towards a forlorn, bushy-haired girl, flanked by her parents.

"Hermione?" he asked, and winced as he saw the girl flinch. She turned towards him, her face draining of all colour.

"Harry?" she whispered, and his heart ached to see the flood of tears that marred her face.

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, before he finally mustered enough courage to grunt, "I'm sorry. Hermione, I'm so…"

"Shut up," she said, her voice turning harsh abruptly, though grief still coloured her every movement. Harry took a step back, his eyes widening.

"Shut UP!" she screamed and the crowd around them quietened at once. Hermione's mother put an arm around her daughter, trying to comfort her, but the younger woman merely shrugged off the grip and glared at Harry.

"You survived," she said, her voice hard and heavy with sorrow, "You survived. You survived and he died."

Harry flinched and the world seemed to reel as his fists curled again.

"That doesn't mean you come up here and take a turn at me," she snarled, wiping furiously at her eyes.

Harry gaped at her in horror, then looked around at the crowd, noticing the stricken look on the Grangers' faces as they tried to pull their daughter back.

"Hermione, I wasn't… I'm not," he stammered, "I'm sorry, Hermione…"

"You have no right!" she said, slashing her arm between them and a wave of magic exploded outward. Harry slammed his own palm up, instinctively conjuring a powerful shield that absorbed her jinx with nary an effort, but he reeled at the force of her accusation. "You have no right to be sorry, when you… you haven't… you haven't lost a thing!"

The crowd went dead still and Harry's shoulders slumped as he took another step away from her. Hermione continued to glare at him in rage and sorrow, before her eyes seemed to clear, and she fell to the ground, sobbing, as her grief overpowered the other dominant emotion.

"She didn't mean that," her mother said apologetically as she knelt next to Hermione and draped her arms around her daughter, "Harry, she didn't…"

He barely even heard her. The sun shone down upon him, mocking him with its bright white light, so different from the pale orb that had shone over the hellscape that was Akuze. The cold wind lapped at him again, the cold, dead hands of his former team given form, grasping at his flesh and tearing him apart. His chest constricted as the accusations he had once levelled at himself turned almost… tangible with Hermione's voice.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here.

He nodded tightly and turned away, his fists shuddering as he walked briskly towards the edge of the graveyard and into the city, away from the coffins of his comrades, and the only woman he had ever truly loved.

He was alone once more. A survivor. A failure.

Mindoir, 15 years ago

"Lily!" his father roared, "Take Harry and go! NOW!"

"No, no, no, no," his mother screamed, "Please, James, please come with us!"

"I have to find Sirius," James said, his eyes wild and staring through the window of the cottage they had taken shelter in.

"James, please…" Lily begged, tugging at her husband's shirt, "Don't leave me… not like this!"

"I'll come with you, Dad," Harry ventured, his voice coming out with far more boldness than he felt deep inside.

"Absolutely not!" James said harshly, "Lily, GO! I have to go look for Sirius and Remus – we can still get past this!"

Lily sobbed again as James leapt right through the window, conjuring a ball of light as he sped right into the thick forests of Mindoir. Harry watched his father go with dread filling his heart, but he pulled at his mother's arm nonetheless.

"Mum, please," he said, "We're sitting ducks here. Please… we have to –"

There was no warning. No shout of despair. No screams of pain. He heard a distant crack of air as a bullet zoomed right past him, and his shirt was splattered with blood as his mother collapsed into his arms, her once-fiery eyes now unseeing, her hand still raised towards the spot within the thick foliage of the nearby forest where his father had disappeared forever.

And all he could do was scream in horror as he realised he would never see his parents again. He was all alone.

A/N - So... does this work? I'm not too sure myself, but I'm going to try my damnedest to merge the two worlds together, though the merger may not be as seamless as I want it to be. Also, the 9 rules mentioned above are not inflexible. Let me know if those don't work, and if the argument is reasonable (which it very well might be, because I'm nowhere near as good as I want to be), I'll change it!