This is an Atlantis/ Harry Potter Crossover, Where John Sheppard is Harry Potter. I have had to change the HP timeline to fit it in, so the events of the HP books will have occurred twenty years ago (to fit in Sheppard's age). There is some Character death but not of the main from either HP or Atlantis. Enjoy.

Part 1

His face glistened with sweat as he ran through the forest his wand drawn, ready to attack. The lighting bolt scar on his for head prickled and he knew he was close to his enemy, his prey. His vibrant green eyes darting around the darkness trying to keep track of his friends movements. He had tried to argue with them about joining him in the forest. He did not want them to be hurt or killed fighting his battles but they were adamant.

"We're staying with you Harry" Hermione had said.

"Yeah, mate. We're a team; the DA and we're all coming with you, to fight beside you." Ron Added.

He knew he couldn't argue with them, but he could try and keep them safe, all of them. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Fred and George had all insisted on accompanying him this night to support him in the final showdown with Voldemort.

The Death Eaters had been destroyed weeks before. A team of Aurors, members of the Order and Harry, Ron and Hermione had done what the ministry could not. Some had been captured and were now in Azkaban others had been killed, unwilling to be taken alive.

He had killed two of the Death Eaters himself. They were difficult battles and he very nearly lost, but in the end he had his revenge on Lestrange and Snape. The memory still fresh burned in his mind giving him strength to fight this, the last encounter between Voldemort and the boy who lived.

A scream pierced the night air chasing his memories away. He turned to see flashes of red light, a shadow moved past him and he knew Voldemort was near.

More flashes of light, more shouts from his friends. He stood transfixed as Neville was hit from behind by a flash of bright green light. Neville's body was falling to the ground with a sickening thud. He knew that spell, had dreamt about that spell for years and now one of his closest friends had been killed by it.

"Neville!" his friends name torn from his throat before he could think, giving away his position. But he did not care his legs carried him too slowly across the damp forest floor towards his fallen friend. Before he could reach Neville's side he heard someone running toward them. He looked up and saw Neville's girlfriend Luna running hell for leather. He saw the figure behind her too late to warn her and screamed her name as she dropped to the floor. Her eyes were open wide with shock. He walked calmly toward the figure and saw the blood red slits stare right back at him, challenging him.

"Did you really think you could defeat me? Me! The Dark Lord" Voldemort asked him incredulously.

He didn't even answer but leapt for his enemy catching him off guard. He heard the phoenix songs in his head as a litany of spells were thrown back and forth between the two wizards. He knew he was going too lose; he was no match for Voldemort.

But his fury was strong and his heart swelled with the loss of his friends. Suddenly there was a golden light surrounded him and Voldemort. They were trapped so close to each other that they could reach out and touch but the light prevented them from moving any closer. He saw the fear in his enemy's eyes he did not care; he was lost in his thoughts of his lost friends and relatives.

He wondered briefly if any of his other friends survived but then his scar burst open with such pain he couldn't breathe. All he saw was golden lights and pain. His head could have ripped in two and he would not have been surprised. A voice broke through the mist and the fog of his pain, unfamiliar … "John?"

He knew of no John but he couldn't think about that now, he felt himself shaking, the pain was white hot across his forehead and seeping down into his body making every muscle contract in pain.

"John, you need to wake up now lad."

The golden light was blinding him even through his eye lids. He had to fight it but he couldn't and he was so damned sick of fighting. All he had done since becoming a wizard was fight and try to survive the grief of the people lost to him.

"John lad? It's just a dream, wake up now."

Who the hell was this John? As the pain grew more intense he sensed something, a name… his name… Harry Potter… no, that's not right he'd changed his name years ago. Another wave of pain flooded his body and he found himself breathless once more.

"Colonel Sheppard, Wake up!"…that's it! That was his name… the name he had changed his to so long ago in the distant past.

The fog began to lift and he realised he was lying down on something soft… a bed. He Scar was still ridiculously painful and he had no time to open his eyes or move before he retched. He head was covered by his hands his knees drawn up to his chest, he was shaking, pale and sweaty.

He felt two strong warm hands grip his wrists and pull his hands away from his face. "Colonel? Are you awake now?"

He tried to nod but another wave of nausea hit him and he retched again. He opened his eyes and drank in the soft features of the Atlantis CMO "Carson… I'm okay" he managed to mumble through the pain in his skull.

"You're running a fever, you've just been sick, twice, and we've been trying to wake yea for ten minutes now. I'll decide if you're okay, and you're not!"

He smiled weakly at Carson he was never going to get out of the Doctor's clutches after this. He could hardly tell the good Doctor that it was just his cursed scar that you can't even see anymore and trust me I'll be fine within an hour. He decided to let the man with access to the pointy sharp objects have his way, "alright Dr Beckett, where do you want me?"

"The infirmary, we need to do some test to fine out what's wrong with yea." the Doctor replied with his usual concern and mothering tone.

He sat up, rubbed his forehead for a moment with the palm of his hand then untangled himself from his bed sheets. It was then that he noticed the figures of Drs Weir and McKay lurking in his doorway, he wondered why they were all in his room.

"Er, what are you all doing in my quarters?" he glared at McKay, who glared right back.

"You didn't show up for morning briefing so we came looking for you, only to find you writhing around in your bed shouting about some guy called Neville." McKay folded his arms, daring Sheppard to deny it.

"Oh" was all Sheppard was prepared to say. Standing on wobbly legs he made to move towards the door intending to walk to the infirmary.

"No you don't lad, my nurses have a gurney on the way you look ready to keel over so sit down before you fall down" the Doctors hand was on his arm and he allowed himself to be lead back to the bed, where he sat, waiting for Beckett's nurses.

Beckett finally let him free after using his arm for a pin cushion for over two hours. He decided to grab some lunch at in the mess after his ordeal in the infirmary. He wandered where the sudden 'dream-attack' had come from. He'd had them before but that was almost another lifetime ago when he'd been a teenager before he had joined the USAF.

His old scar prickled, making him wince as he stood in line again not something that had happened in twenty years. He got a turkey sandwich and sat drinking his coffee, lost in his thoughts about the past.