Culture Shock
Contact
By Ruskbyte
/oOo\
Chapter Two
Contact
\oOo/
Albus Dumbledore set the letter he was holding down on his desk. He stared blankly at it, not a hint of what he was thinking or feeling entering his expression. It was a Hogwarts Acceptance Letter. Three days ago, dozens of similar letters that had been sent out to all eligible magical children throughout Britain. This letter, however, had not reached its recipient.
Mr H. Potter
Unknown
He looked to the shelf that held the various magical instruments attuned to Harry Potter’s magical signature and life force. All the devices were working properly. Dumbledore had checked and re-checked this dozens of times over the past ten years. Yet the readings given by them were completely mystifying and, in some cases, went utterly against any sense of reason.
By all accounts, Harry was the very picture of good health. Perfect health, actually. In fact, healthy beyond anything Dumbledore had imagined possible. The boy had not been sick for even a single day in his life. He had not suffered any noticeable form of injury, aside from those few scrapes and bruises one would associate with a little childish roughhousing. Even those were treated and mended so quickly that even Madam Pomfrey would have struggled to keep up. He was well fed and got sufficient sleep at regular intervals. His mind and thoughts were being simulated to remarkable levels on an almost daily basis. The emotional indictors would swing through the entire gamut of feelings; from happiness to sadness to anger to determination and back again, but seemed to spend the bulk of their time in a state of simple contentment.
All told, Dumbledore had a more than reasonable idea of Harry’s physical and emotional wellbeing. And, if his interpretations were accurate (which he felt comfortably certain of), then he would not do a thing to change it. He doubted that any living environment he could provide would manage to duplicate the one that Harry was already in; one where he was obviously thriving.
It was those knickknacks that kept track of Harry’s location, relative to Hogwarts, that left Dumbledore truly befuddled. First and foremost was an enchanted compass, whose needle would always point towards the boy. A problem arose, however, in the fact that the needle would never settled down in a single direction. Not once in ten years. In the first few weeks the needle had swung round and round, completing four revolutions each day. After that, it had settled to only one revolution a day, though there had been a period of roughly a month (four years ago) wherein it had shifted in some complicated manner before settling down again. Regardless of the change, the needle continued to spin lazy round its axis, completing one revolution a day.
The only conclusion Dumbledore could reach was that Harry remained in a state of perpetual motion. Which was a ridiculous idea, but the compass and three other items of a similar nature continued to give the same result. This was seemingly confirmed by another magical locator; a silver pendulum attuned to display Harry’s distance from Hogwarts at any given time. To begin with the device had vacillated greatly, giving indications that Harry was anywhere between only a few hundred up to ten thousand miles away. This variation had originally been synchronised to the rotation of the compass, shifting back and forth four times a day. Then, at the same time that the compass had shifting to a singular daily rotation, the pendulum had swung up and frozen in place — indicating that, somehow, Harry had moved beyond the range of its divination.
Dumbledore regarded the letter laid out before him.
Mr H. Potter
Unknown
That last word, which should have been Harry’s address, caused the headmaster a great deal of pause. Ordinary means would not have been enough to hide Harry from detection. No, only magic would have been able to accomplish such a feat. This was a conclusion which left Dumbledore with a burning question. Who could have stolen Harry away from his relatives, despite the various protections that had been in place, and then cast the spells needed to hide him so thoroughly?
Dumbledore had spent the past decade trying, through one means or another, to track down Harry’s location. All without success. In truth, he had long since accepted that Harry would not be found so easily. Thus he had begun laying down the groundwork needed to accomplish the one thing he hoped would be able to coax Harry (or whoever was hiding him) out into the open. He could not locate Harry, no, but he was able to track the boy’s magical signature. This would not be particularly helpful if Harry were hidden away behind, say, a Fidelius Charm, but it would be enough for the ritual that Dumbledore had uncovered.
Most rituals were frowned upon by the Ministry, in part because they almost always required a sacrifice of some sort, but Dumbledore had been fastidious in his research. The ritual was most assuredly not dark and the only sacrifice required was however much magic was needed to accomplish its purpose, and as it required thirteen witches and wizards to complete even that would scarcely be a danger.
It was quite simple really; Harry’s magical signature would be used to focus the destination of a specially created portkey. The portkey itself would not be stable enough for use by a living creature, but that was hardly necessary. Directing the ritual’s energies at Harry’s acceptance letter would result in the letter itself being turned into the portkey, which would then find its way to wherever the missing Boy-Who-Lived might be hidden.
All the headmaster needed now was to find a dozen people willing to help.
-oOo-
Several days later and an extraordinarily long distance away (much more than Dumbledore could have imagined), the boy now known as Sol-Terrasa Harry Potter dam Marenhide, found himself waking up much earlier than he normally would.
"House?" he asked blearily, pushing himself up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Sorry to disturb you, Harry," answered a deep and smoothly cultivated voice.
Recognising that he was being addressed by someone other than his abode’s AI, Harry quickly glanded some Snap. The Culture's favourite breakfast drug, guaranteed to wake up anyone not on death’s door, brought the eleven-year old boy’s mind to full alert. He had a feeling that he would need all of his faculties up and running for the coming conversation. The Mind that controlled and regulated Stafl Orbital would not interrupt one of its human citizen’s sleep without an exceptionally good reason.
"Hub? What’s wrong?" asked Harry as he climbed out of his sprawling bed. Realizing that Harry was going to be moving about, doubtless to get dressed, the Hub asked the House AI to slowly bring the illumination in Harry’s room up to normal levels. "Thanks," said Harry, crossing to the nearest cupboard. "Now, tell me what’s wrong."
"Nothing is wrong, per se," replied the Hub, sounding slightly affronted by the idea. "I did, however, detect an unusual energy reading in your room not long ago. As you were asleep, I thought it best to wake you."
"I know I wasn’t having a nightmare," replied Harry, pulling on a pair of shorts. He knew that his abilities, which had made him possibly the most widely known individual in the Culture, would sometimes make themselves known if he had a particularly vivid dream.
"I do not think it was your doing, Harry," said the Hub. There was a sudden pinprick of light that rapidly expanded into a silver sphere, which disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. A tall, lithe and handsome male figure in a navy blue suit was left standing in the spot it had occupied. By Culture standards he was fairly nondescript. "The signature pattern was somewhat, if only slightly, different to your base form. I believe that someone or something else was responsible."
Harry regarded this copy of the Hub’s avatar, through which it would often interact with the Orbital’s human population of seventy-billion. Tying the straps to his thin cotton summer shirt, Harry turned his thoughts inward and considered what the Hub had told him. As with any human member of the Culture, Harry was intelligent beyond what the limits of unaltered biology could provide; the genetic modifications had been made shortly after he had been found. But there was one thing he possessed that could not be induced by recombining DNA.
Intuition. It was something that relatively few people in the Culture could call upon with any reliability, even its multitudes of drones and Minds. Harry was one of those exceedingly rare people who could intuitively grasp the nature of a situation, even with only a scarce few facts and clues. This was something that drew almost as much attention to the young boy as did his other abilities.
"You seem rather calm," he observed with almost equal tranquillity, which he took some pride in accomplishing without the use of glanded Calm. "Which means that you don’t think this was an attempt to kill or kidnap me."
"Possibly," the Hub allowed, moving to sit in one of the wicker chairs on Harry’s balcony.
Harry dutifully followed the avatar and took the seat nearest it. They stared out into the pre-morning gloom. The system’s primary, Seseris, would not be rising for another half-hour. Both sunrise and sunset on an Orbital tended to be events of considerable beauty, so Harry was not adverse to sit outside and wait for it; even to the detriment of his sleep.
"It’s been what? Three minutes?" asked Harry with a grin. "I’ll bet you’ve a thousand theories by now."
"One minute, forty-seven seconds," corrected the Hub mildly, "and we do, in fact, have somewhat over seventy-four thousand theories as to what might possibly be the cause of the disturbance."
"We?" asked Harry, his grin growing a little wider. "Who else is joining us this morning?"
"I am in direct communication with as many Minds that are within range," replied the Hub, turning its deep indigo eyes to Harry. "What happened earlier was not anticipated and, therefore, is of some moderate concern."
"Let me guess," said Harry. "Dual layered Grid energy being used in the vicinity of the only human in the Culture that can manipulate said energy in a similar fashion. Clearly not coincidence. It was done, whatever it was, in a manner similar to my own efforts, but still different." He returned the avatar’s gaze and felt his earlier grin become somewhat predatory. "You suspect involvement by someone like to me."
"Very good," the Hub nodded. "Yes, we do."
"And which, of the seventy-four thousand possibilities you’ve thought up, do you consider the most likely?"
Hub gestured and a holographic display appeared before them. Whether it was a House system doing the projection, or the avatar itself, Harry could not tell. He turned his attention to the image, replete in charts and graphs, now hovering in front of him.
"Leaving out a lot of technobabble," it explained, "the waveform I recorded bares a significant similarity to your own method of teleportation. There are some very big differences, as you can see, but this was clearly some form of matter transmission."
"Displacement?" asked Harry, referring to the Culture’s method of instantly moving matter from one point to another. It was by this method that the Hub had sent one of its many avatars to Harry’s bedroom. It was only used for human transport in cases of dire need, as the technology had a one in eighty million chance of causing a fatality in whatever was being Displaced. Such was an example of just how cautious a Culture Mind was; that such seemingly long odds were considered too dangerous for everyday use.
"No," the Hub shook its head. "There was no resemblance to the Displacer Effect. In fact, the GCU I Thought He Was With You pointed out that it actually bears some degree of similarity to the base-nine mathematical model of a wormhole."
Harry leaned back in his chair, which creaked softly under his shifting weight, and stared up into the fading night. He could easily make out the thin line across the sky that was the opposite side of the Orbital’s ring, three million kilometres distant.
"Were you able to track it?" he asked.
"No," the Hub shook its head. "It did not last nearly long enough to trace to its start point."
"So its destination was Stafl? Me in particular?"
"We believe so, yes."
"Based on?"
"While I was unable to trace the energy all the way back, I did manage to narrow it down."
Harry dropped his gaze down to the hologram and watched as the various graphs (most of which he actually understood) were replaced by an image of the galaxy, as seen from above. A small, but bright green dot appeared, tagged as their location on the Stafl Orbital. A good distance away, nearly a quarter ways round the galactic circumference, a large red blob appeared. This was labelled as being the volume of space where the energy disturbance was most likely to have originated from. Harry gave a low whistle, impressed by the distance between the two. Forty thousand years, at least.
"A lot of space to cover," he eventually said, referring to the rather large red sphere the Hub had indicated.
"Eleven thousand, six hundred and four cubic parsecs," replied the Hub.
Harry blew out a breath. "Any idea where to start?"
The Hub nodded. "As a matter of fact, yes."
The red blob shrank down and coalesced into a single bright point; a star system. The label attached to the former blob shifted to accommodate the change in display and now read something that made Harry jerk upright.
"You’re kidding me!"
"No, I am not," replied the Hub. "I checked this thoroughly, as have the other Minds. Whatever caused the disturbance, did so from somewhere inside a volume of space centred on your home star system; Sol."
Harry slumped back in his chair, too surprised to reply. He had, of course, known where he was from, as well as the events leading up to his being removed from the planet in question. For the most part he hardly ever thought about it. While the knowledge was there, it meant very little to him. Harry could remember his early childhood on the S’Jet Orbital, where he had lived until four years ago. Of Terra, or Earth as most of its inhabitants preferred, he had not a single memory.
"Harry?"
Harry hardly noticed the arrival of Skaffen-Amtiskaw, the drone that spent most of its time living with Harry and his adopted mother. The drone had been summoned back to the dwelling as soon as the Hub had detected the energy reading in Harry’s room. Seeing that its charge was preoccupied, the drone turned to the Hub’s avatar and silently queried it as to what exactly was going on.
Several minutes passed in silence, both avatar and drone waiting for Harry to emerge from his thoughts. Finally, Harry looked up to ask something of the Hub. He paused and blinked, clearly surprised by the unexpected appearance of Skaffen-Amtiskaw.
"Good morning, Skaffy," he greeted, though obviously distracted.
"Good morning, Harry," acknowledged Skaffen-Amtiskaw, not bothering to complain about the nickname.
"Hub, are you sure?" asked Harry, turning to the avatar.
"It seems the most likely conclusion," replied the Hub.
"Perhaps this might yield some answers," said Skaffen-Amtiskaw, using its effector field to raise something into the air. Both Harry and the Hub looked at the object in surprise.
"It’s… a letter," concluded Harry, reaching out to pluck the sealed envelope out of the air.
Hub turned to the drone, clearly demanding an explanation. Skaffen-Amtiskaw supplied one to both Harry and the Hub, though the Mind received a far more detailed report. "I noticed it as I passed through your room," it explained, while simultaneously transmitting a copy of its memory of the event to the Hub. "It has your name on the front."
Harry looked at the envelope’s front, which was addressed in bright green ink to Mr H. Potter, Unknown. The words were completely alien to him, as he had never been bothered to learn a Terran language. He stared in disbelief and turned back to the others, most especially the Hub. Holding it up for both to see, he asked incredulously, "Someone opened a wormhole from Terra to Stafl, a distance of at least forty thousand light-years… to deliver a letter?"
"That does seem rather… odd," agreed the Hub.
"What do you expect? Those people are all crazy," put in Skaffen-Amtiskaw.
Harry broke the wax seal on the envelope and pulled out the letter it contained. He noticed that it was not written on paper, or at least not paper of the same quality that was produced in the Culture. Of course, hardly anyone used paper as a means of communication. A few eccentrics might; for special occasions, but paper was rarely handled by anyone other than those practitioners of the more traditional art forms.
The Hub leaned closer and examined the letter. While it looked as if it were using only its avatar’s eyes, the Hub Mind was actually inspecting the object of its curiosity at a nearly atomic level. It raised an eyebrow in surprise and proclaimed, "It is written on parchment, not paper."
Carefully unfolding the letter, Harry scanned the contents. Almost immediately he grimaced and shook his head. "It’s not written in Marain," he complained, referring to the Culture’s shared common language. "And it’s not any language I recognise."
Skaffen-Amtiskaw shifted through the air until it was hovering over Harry’s shoulder. It tilted down, as if to examine the letter itself, though this was an action made more for show than anything else. It promptly began to read; easily deciphering the primitive English dialect it had learned during its Contact mission to Earth, ten years earlier.
"Hogwarts School of…" the drone trailed off. Its fields flared a lurid orange.
"Of?" prompted Harry impatiently.
"Of witchcraft and wizardry," the drone finished. Not bothering to finish reading, it drifted away from Harry, muttering all the while. "I knew it. I knew it — those Terrasa are all completely and incurably insane. Mad, they’re mad!"
Harry blinked and repeated, "Witchcraft and wizardry?"
Hub reached over and took the letter from him. "They are reported as being a rather odd minded species of humans," it said, before reading over the letter itself. Several pauses marked its recitation, primarily after the rather long string of titles associated with the school’s headmaster. It quickly finished with, "Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."
Harry whose expression had grown somewhat dazed as the avatar spoke, shook his head in pure disbelief. "Magic," he said. "They have a school for teaching magic. And they want me to attend."
"I believe it must be a traditional institute, as you have never had a chance to enrol," said the Hub.
"What’s an owl? And when is thirty-one July?" asked Harry suddenly, recalling the letter’s last paragraph.
"An owl is one of Terra’s avian species," supplied Skaffen-Amtiskaw, returning from its rant on the madness of Terrestrial humans. "A nocturnal breed, though I can’t imagine why they would think you have one. Perhaps as a pet? But then why would they be expecting it? And the thirty-first of July is roughly the mid point of the year, by their calendar. If I recall… it would be seventeen days from now."
"Eighteen actually," the Hub corrected. "You neglected to account for our having a slightly longer day."
As the drone and the Hub haggled over the accuracy of their respective calculations, Harry examined the letter again. The words were still wholly foreign to him, an odd way to regard one’s home language. After taking in the fine details of the ornate crest that served as a letterhead, he was about to slip it back into the envelope when he noticed a second piece of parchment still inside it.
"There’s something else," he announced, drawing the others’ attention back to him. He held up the second letter, which was also covered in the strange and unfamiliar script of written English.
Skaffen-Amtiskaw extended a field and took the letter from him. It read the contents, Hub alongside it, and was soon huffing and puffing about the mental competence of Terran humans. It sounded even more exasperated than it had after reading the first letter.
"Well?" prompted Harry.
"It appears to be a supply list," said the Hub, returning the letter to Harry. "Skaffen-Amtiskaw is rather disdainful of the various items you will be required to have. The titles of the books are not too bad, but the demand for a magic wand is rather disconcerting."
"A magic wand?" repeated Harry dumbly.
"Amongst other things," the Hub confirmed.
"Perhaps Skaffen-Amtiskaw is right," Harry relented. "They are mad."
"Magical Theory!" exclaimed the drone. "A History of Magic!"
"There is also a rather strange prohibition against broomsticks," added the Hub.
"Broomsticks? You mean the ancient cleaning implement?"
"Madmen, the lot — completely and utterly out of touch with reality!"
"Hub, I need to think about this."
"Take your time, Harry. We will be thinking it through as well."
The trio sat, in Skaffen-Amtiskaw’s case floated, quietly and stared out at the slowly lightening sky. A hint of burgundy was beginning to appear spinwards, as the Orbital rotated back into the sunlight. What few clouds were present began to glow a deep orange, with the occasional highlight of soft yellow. Finally, after many minutes, the glowing disc of Seseris appeared to coalesce in the sky. On the ring-like structure of an Orbital, there were no horizons for the sun to rise over or set under.
Harry leaned as far back as his chair would allow, immersing himself in the morning vista. It was a perfect environment to allow one’s thoughts to drift, giving him the chance to study the situation in a relaxed manner. The Hub and Skaffen-Amtiskaw spent most of this time in silent conversation, their words and ideas being sent back and forth at speeds a human mind could not hope to match, or even properly comprehend.
"There’s a chance I could actually learn something from these people," Harry declared, finally breaking the silence.
"Agreed," was the Hub’s reply.
Skaffen-Amtiskaw was slightly more verbose and said, "While it’s doubtful they have any scientific theory behind it, they should be able to teach you how to do whatever mumbo-jumbo they consider magic. Once you’ve learned how they access the Grid to manipulate Space-Time, we’d simply apply what theory we do know to reverse engineer the processes."
"I’d have to leave Stafl," said Harry. "Go back to Terra."
"We are still unable to create a stand-in that can duplicate your abilities," said the Hub by way of confirmation.
"I’ve been raised almost my entire life by the Culture. Would I be able to pass as a Terrasa?"
"Physically, yes," said Skaffen-Amtiskaw. "What changes we’ve made have been entirely on a genetic level, thus far. To an external observer, you’d appear no different than anyone else on the planet."
"Blending in to their civilization, their society will be the hard part," concluded the Hub.
"Do I have to do it?"
"No, but we would prefer that you did."
That was as close to a command that the Hub, or anyone else in the Culture, could make of him. Harry knew that he could refuse to go, that he could remain on Stafl without reprisal. He also knew that nearly his entire life, ten years, had been shaped by the Culture. All that he was as a person could be traced directly to that single fact. He had been raised as one of them and, as far as anyone was concerned, was one of them. This brought with it a degree of obligation, something he was unable to ignore.
"There are a few things I’d like. I’m not insisting, but…"
"Of course."
"I’m not going alone."
"You most certainly are not!" exclaimed Skaffen-Amtiskaw in loud agreement. "I intend to be with you every step of the way and I’m sure Sma will be there as well. Contact will also want to have a Ship Mind present, so we’ll likely have a GCU to monitor things. Special Circumstances will also be keeping an eye open."
"I want a neural lace. I’ll need to learn the language and that would be the fastest way."
"It is unusual for someone so young to have an implant," said the Hub, "but not something we would refuse. Your cranial development is mostly completed and the lace would be able to adjust itself for any further growth."
Harry hesitated before making his last request. This one, he felt, would meet some resistance. The Culture eschewed violence whenever possible, though it fought with terrible efficiency when need be. "I’d like a knife-missile placed under my control," he asked. "The most advanced you have available."
The Hub’s avatar frowned and Skaffen-Amtiskaw’s fields flared a pale green, with streaks of grey.
"Harry, I--"
"No offence, Skaffen-Amtiskaw," said Harry quickly, "but you’re much bigger than a knife-missile and much more noticeable."
"Very well," the Hub acquiesced after a moment, one filled with fierce debate amongst the various Minds involved in the venture. In the end they decided that Harry would be safer with a knife-missile permanently watching him than without. "We will have one assigned to you once your neural lace has been implanted."
"All right then," Harry confirmed his agreement to the plan with a nod. "When do we leave?"
"The Medium Systems Vehicle Facts & Fallacies will be departing Stafl tomorrow at 1375," replied the Hub. "It will transport you and your party as far as the GSV Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out."
The earlier hologram of the galaxy was projected into the air again. A bright yellow line shot out from the point where Stafl Orbital was located, reaching a good ten-thousand light-years out before terminating. That was where the rendezvous would take place. Another line extended out, this time about seven-thousand light-years, followed by a third that extended the remaining distance to the Sol system.
Harry examined the route briefly, taking note of the various Ships involved in his journey. He turned to the Hub’s avatar and raised both brows. "You’re shifting quiet a few Ships around, including two GSVs. You must think this is important."
"Very," admitted the Hub.
Considering the hologram and the route highlighted on it, Harry mused, "It’s not exactly close, is it? Forty-two thousand light-years total. It’s going to take, what, three months to get there?"
The Hub nodded. "Give or take."
"And you had this all planned out five minutes after you woke me up, didn’t you? Before we’d even read the letter."
"Twenty-two point six seconds, actually."
"I supposed I’d better start packing."
"I can do that for you, Harry," interjected Skaffen-Amtiskaw. "Why don’t you go to Sma’s room and tell her the good news?"
Harry sent the drone a mixed look. Diziet Sma was rarely a pleasant person so early in the morning. And he had little doubt that she would be even less pleasant upon learning that their plans had been made without any input from her. Sighing in defeat, as well as acknowledging that at least Sma would probably not kill him for being the bearer of bad news, Harry rose from his seat and returned inside the house.
Digging underneath the chair in front of his bureau, Harry found a pair of loose sandals and slipped them on. He spent a short while, seconds really, running a comb through his hair in an attempt to tidy it up a bit. The results were minimal. Apparently not even the Culture’s remarkable talent for genetic engineering could tame his unruly black locks — he knew; they’d tried on six separate occasions before giving up. He collected his communications terminal from the nightstand and, as it was fashioned to look like a plain gold ring, set it in place on his right ring-finger.
Leaving his room, Harry wound his way through the house in search of his ever wayward adopted mother. It was an average sized house by Culture standards, comprising of nearly a fifty rooms, of which more than half were bedrooms of one sort or another. Diziet Sma would normally sleep in her own private bedroom, two doors down from Harry, save on those occasions when she had brought home company. On those nights, she invariably used one of the other rooms that were available; ostensibly so that any bedroom activities would not disturb Harry’s sleep.
It was in the fourth room he checked that Harry met with success. He paused in the doorway and regarded the naked figures sprawled on the bed. He had seen Sma’s nude body on a semi-regular basis for as long as he could remember. The Culture’s human citizens were never ashamed of their bodies (which could easily be tailored to any shape they desired) and were thus somewhat lacking in terms of modesty. Even Harry tended to sometimes wander about the house sans any clothing.
More than familiar with Sma, he considered her companion, whom he had never met before. His gaze lingered for several long seconds on the man’s semi-erect phallus, which seemed equal in size to one of Harry’s forearms. He wondered how Sma had managed to accommodate something so large. Shrugging away such thoughts as being unimportant, he stepped fully into the room and crossed to where his adoptive mother was sleeping.
"Sma," he said softly, reaching out to gently shake her shoulder. "Wake up."
"Tishlin?" Sma slurred tiredly, not opening her eyes. "Again?"
Harry looked down at his guardian with mixed humour, and a twinge of jealousy, before saying, "I wasn’t aware we’d had a first time, Mother."
Sma blinked awake quickly after hearing that. Despite the fact that she was for all intents and purposes Harry’s mother, the boy would rarely refer to his as such; preferring to use her given name. "Harry?" she asked, sitting up in alarm. "What’s wrong?"
Harry’s eyes dipped briefly to her breasts before rising to her dark brown eyes. "I think we should speak alone," he said, glancing at the man sleeping next to her.
"Oh, sorry," apologised Sma, finally becoming aware of her nudity. Swivelling onto her feet, she stretched out to grab a shimmering silk dressing gown that was lying discarded on the nearby carpet. Even as he left the room Harry admired the view, especially the manner in which Sma’s full breasts swayed gently. Wrapping the gown round her body, she followed Harry.
The pair descended to the ground floor and found seats at one of the counters in the spacious kitchen. Few humans in the Culture knew how to cook, so they waited patiently as the House AI prepared breakfast for them. Several jugs of various fruit juices were available and they each helped themselves to a glass of their favourite flavour.
"So, what has you waking me up so damned early?" asked Sma as they sipped their drinks.
"I received a letter from Terra this morning," said Harry blandly.
"What?!" Sma spluttered, choking briefly on her juice.
"Apparently they used something like a wormhole to deliver it to my bedroom," explained Harry. "It’s an invitation to attend a school there; a place called Hogwarts."
"Why would they want you took go to school there? And how did they find you — we’re thousands of light-years from Terra. For that matter, how could they have even sent the letter to you? They don’t have anywhere near the level of technology to do that."
"The Minds say they weren’t using any technology. Just as I don’t use any."
Sma set her glass down and stared at him. "You mean… accessing the hyperspace grid?"
Harry nodded, "That’s their conclusion."
"And this school they’ve invited you to?"
"Will hopefully teach me the arts of witchcraft and wizardry."
"You’re joking."
"I’m afraid not," replied Harry. He handed her the envelope he had stored in a shirt pocket. As it had been Diziet Sma that had removed him from Earth, he was confident she would be able to read the writing on the letters inside. If not, then her implant would be able to translate it for her.
Sma quickly finished her glass of juice and began reading, the acceptance letter first and then the supply list. By the smell of things, the House was nearly finished cooking their breakfasts. She looked at Harry and asked, "So what? You’re asking me for permission to go to this… Hogwarts?"
Harry shook his head. "No, the Minds have pretty much decided I have to go."
"You don’t have to."
"If I refused, they’d just keep bothering me until I did."
"They can be persistent," agreed Sma.
"And I do owe it to the Culture," sighed Harry.
"So you’re going then," concluded Sma. She then asked, "When?"
"Tomorrow," replied Harry. "It’s already agreed that you and Skaffen-Amtiskaw will accompany me. If you want to."
"Of course we want to, silly," Sma chided gently, ruffling his already messy hair. "Besides which, if there’s enough people like you on Terra that there’s a proper school to teach you, then Contact will be wanting to find out how we missed noticing them when we were there."
"That is already the cause of much speculation," said the Hub’s avatar, announcing its presence as it and Skaffen-Amtiskaw entered the kitchen.
"If they’re all as mad as those letters suggest, I doubt we’ll find any rational explanation," said the drone as it floated to the counter.
"Are you sure this will be safe?" Sma asked, directing her question to the Hub.
"As sure as we can be," replied the Hub.
"What sort of resources will we have in orbit?"
"The General Contact Unit It’s Not My Fault will be with you for the duration of the mission. Two other GCUs will be in the system, but not around the planet itself. A further seventeen GCUs will remain within a month’s travel distance."
"No big guns?"
"Not dedicated to this assignment, no," replied the Hub.
"The GSVs Lucid Nonsense and You Must Be Joking have flight plans filed that will keep them in the immediate area for the next two-to-three years," added Skaffen-Amtiskaw.
"Do we have any real idea what we’re getting ourselves into?" demanded Sma.
"Aside from these letters, and the one that you found with baby Harry; not a clue," answered the Hub cheerfully.
"Fantastic."
-oOo-
[New M16-level Core Group formed. @n4.58.176.3839
Name: Interesting Times Gang (Act VI).]
~
x Anticipation Of A New Lover’s Arrival, The (GSV, Plate Class):
So.
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
So? It that all you have to say?
~
x Anticipation Of A New Lover’s Arrival, The (GSV, Plate Class):
The perfect lead up to a conversation.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
Irregardless, the matter is resolved. At least the initial stage of it. Harry has agreed.
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
I am uncomfortable with this course of action we have decided upon.
~
x Limivorous (GSV, Ocean Class):
As am I. Harry Potter is the only human we have found, in an entire galaxy full of them, that can perform such manipulations of Space-Time. We are very lucky to have stumbled upon him; especially so soon after the incident with the Esperi Excession. Sending him into a potentially dangerous situation, especially at such a young age, is a risk.
~
x Fate Amenable To Change (GCU, Escarpment Class):
Risk is our business.
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
How droll. Need I remind everyone of Harry Potter’s other unique abilities? He is also a Referrer. There are only forty-one others like him in the galaxy.
~
x End In Tears (Rock, First Era):
Harry Potter is barely eleven years old. Far too young to either confirm or deny that he is a Referrer. At this point he is only a Potential Referrer. There are over a million others in the same category. For the purposes of this discussion, it is his ability to access and manipulate the Hyperspace Grid layers that is of relevance.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
You are far too concerned by only a single aspect of the whole. All of Harry’s abilities are relevant to any situation regarding him. You are failing to see the galaxy for the stars.
~
x Anticipation Of A New Lover’s Arrival, The (GSV, Plate Class):
Have we still had no success in determining what part of his genetic code is responsible for his abilities?
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
None whatsoever. From all appearances, there’s nothing in his DNA that cannot be found in any other human.
~
x Time And Again (MSV Desert Class):
We’ve clone grown hundreds of remote-controlled duplicates over the years. We even downloaded into a few of them the mindstates people who had recently suffered a body-death. None of them have had any success in reproducing Harry Potter’s achievements.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
It is always possible that it is an inheritable trait. Most are. Harry’s children are more likely to have such abilities than any genetic clones we grow.
~
x Different Tan (GCU, Mountain Class):
But it makes no sense! It has to be genetic! Unless you’re suggesting that the Terrasa humans are correct and it’s all really magic and voodoo witchcraft.
~
x Limivorous (GSV, Ocean Class):
Has any thought been given to breeding Harry Potter and observing the results?
~
x Fate Amenable To Change (GCU, Escarpment Class):
As End In Tears said; he is only eleven. His body hasn’t matured enough to go around impregnating females.
~
x Serious Callers Only (LSV, Tundra Class)
Even so, I’m sure he’d enjoy trying!
~
x End In Tears (Rock, First Era):
Has he expressed any interest in doing so? Most humans begin to experiment at that age. We could easily find a woman that would be willing to allow him to practice intercourse with her. With the implantation of a neural lace, it would be an easy thing to stimulate his spermatozoa production.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
It would be possible. Harry has engaged in some kissing and light petting amongst his friends [text and details attached]. He also has an interest in Diziet Sma, though it is doubtful he would ever act upon it.
~
x Anticipation Of A New Lover’s Arrival, The (GSV, Plate Class):
Diziet has always been very reliable. Excluding the incidents with Cheradenine Zakalwe. Would she be willing to take Harry to bed and bare a child from him?
~
x What Are The Civilian Applications (GSV, Continent Class, Sub-Class Prompt, Limited):
Having worked with Ms. Sma in the past, I’d say that she would; provided the request was couched in terms of potential benefit to the Culture. The fact that she is Mr. Potter’s guardian and mother figure might present a problem though.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
Whatever you do, I suggest you don’t have Skaffen-Amtiskaw try to reason with her. She would refuse only because it was the one asking.
~
x What Are The Civilian Applications (GSV, Continent Class, Sub-Class Prompt, Limited):
True. The pair have a very strange relationship.
~
x Time And Again (MSV Desert Class):
Perhaps we are getting ahead of ourselves. I agree in principle to the idea of introducing as much of Harry’s DNA into the gene pool as is possible. However, he is not yet ready for such a task; mentally more than physically.
~
x End In Tears (Rock, First Era):
What do you propose then?
~
x Time And Again (MSV Desert Class):
Accelerate his progress in the field of human sexuality. The journey from Stafl to Terra will take approximately three months. The first part will be spent on the MSV Facts & Fallacies. There should be an adequate supply of pubescent females for Harry to spend time with. Likewise the GSV Stood Far Back When The Gravitas Was Handed Out and the GSV Thorough But… Unreliable. This should give him time and opportunity to gain some confidence in that area, which will hopefully make it easier when the time comes for a fully productive coupling.
~
x Serious Callers Only (LSV, Tundra Class)
Subtle. I like it.
~
x Limivorous (GSV, Ocean Class):
Agreed.
~
x Stafl (Orbital Hub, Seseris system, [solo]):
I will inform the relevant Ships.
~
[End document/comments track.]
-oOo-
Harry stood quietly in one of the many observation lounges that were scattered about the MSV Facts & Fallacies. He watched in melancholy silence as the ringed hoop of Stafl Orbital grew more and more distant.
"We’ll be entering hyperspace soon, Harry," announced a soft voice from his terminal ring.
"Thank you, Ship," replied Harry, not taking his eyes away from the view before him.
The Orbital was far enough away by now that Harry could hold his hand out at arm’s length and blot out nearly three-quarters of its massive shape. Then, in the span of a heartbeat, Stalf shrank in size to pinprick of light. A few seconds later that too had disappeared from sight, leaving only the vast blackness of galactic space.
A hand settled on his shoulder and he looked up to see Sma smiling down at him. "So, how does it feel to be leaving home?" she asked.
"Kind of the same as when we left S’Jet," he replied, "but also different somehow."
"We left S’Jet because I was needed in the Rabaroansa Cluster, and Stafl was the closest Orbital," explained Sma. "Despite that, we were still only moving from one Culture Orbital to another. This time’s different, because we’ll be leaving the Culture behind."
"How long do you think it’ll be before we can come back?" asked Harry.
"Who knows?" replied Sma. "You’re a fast learner, Harry. Probably only a few years."
"That suddenly seems like a very long time."
"Don’t worry; it’ll pass so fast you’ll hardly notice."
"You know, I’ve never really asked… what’s it like?"
"You mean Terra?"
"Yeah."
Sma considered this as she led her young charge to a nearby divan. They settled down, shoulders brushing lightly against each other. She knew that he was asking for her impression of the planet, not the raw data that he could easily acquire by asking the Ship Mind, or even Skaffen-Amtiskaw. They sat watching the view of hyperspace, the image of which the Facts & Fallacies was filtering for human sensibilities.
"It’s much like any other planet I’ve been to," she replied. "Better than some, worse than others. They don’t really have anything like a united government; in fact there are hundreds of separate countries and nations. Naturally they’re all fighting and killing each other over silly things like resources; precious metals, fossil fuels or even ridiculous historical beliefs — prior claims to land or the like."
"And the people themselves?"
"In some ways they’re like the Culture — very diverse, no one person exactly the same," replied Sma. "On the other hand, they’re very territorial, regionalised and prone to killing each other over little things like money."
Harry shook his head and admitted, "The entire concept of this ‘money’ is very strange. Exchanging pieces of paper for food and services… I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever figure it out."
Sma laughed and buffed his head, "Don’t worry, we have the next three months to teach you."
"What’s the country like, where you found me? End-gland?"
"England, or the United Kingdom of Great Britain," corrected Sma.
"That’s a mouthful. I’ll stick with England, I think. So, what’s it like there? It’s an island, right?"
"Yes. You can look up the geographic data later," said Sma, nodding. "It’s a rather… traditional place, I suppose. Lots of castles and ruins of castles. A bit cramped by Culture standards, certainly compared to S’Jet and Stafl, but there are some wilderness areas. I didn’t get a chance to spend much time there. The people seemed friendly enough."
"I don’t think I like the language," admitted Harry.
"English isn’t Marain," Sma agreed, "but none of the Terrasa languages are."
"But it sounds so… so uncouth!" protested Harry.
"It’s a naturally developed language, Harry. Of course, it’s uncouth by comparison," Sma reminded him. "Don’t forget; Marain was developed by the Culture’s earliest Minds to appeal to poets, engineers as well as the average person. It was designed from start to finish to be an aesthetically appealing language, be it in a spoken or written form."
"Do you have to put up with this sort of thing every time you go on a job for Special Circumstances?" asked Harry.
"More or less," admitted Sma. "The last time I was on Earth, I had a couple of extra toes added, a joint removed from each of my fingers and a rather generalized ear, nose and cheek job. The Ship insisted on teaching me to walk differently as well."
"If the Culture used money, I’d be demanding a lot of it," grumbled Harry.
"You are getting a neural lace several years earlier than normal," Sma grinned, taking a somewhat wicked pleasure in Harry’s complaints. "And I’ll make sure to throw a really big birthday party for you when we arrive."
"We will be arriving just before my birthday, won’t we?" mused Harry. He frowned and, for the first time, wondered at the accuracy of that statement. "But it won’t really be my birthday, will it? It’s just the day you and Skaffy found me on a doorstep."
"Yes," Sma reluctantly admitted. "November second, by their calendar."
"Do you think this Minerva woman will be able to tell me when my real birthday is?" asked Harry.
"I don’t know. I imagine she should, if they have any reliable records."
"Maybe she’d even be able to tell me about my parents," said Harry, thoroughly intrigued by the idea. He was not particularly excited by the idea, having grown up with Sma as a mother figure and Skaffen-Amtiskaw as a combination uncle, tutor and nanny. Not to mention the dozens of aunts, uncles, drones and Minds that had been present at various times. Still, the thought of learning about the people who had conceived him was an enticing one.
"Who knows," he conceded, "Maybe this won’t be so bad after all."
TBC…
Author’s Notes:
First off; regarding the Culture timeline — I’m modifying it to suit my own wants, so simply take it for granted that the events in all the currently published books have already taken place. The storyline of Look to Windward would have occurred no more than five or six years before Harry receives his Hogwarts letter. Some compression has been allowed so that Sma’s not too ancient and decrepit by this point; even for people with a lifespan of four-hundred odd years.
I expect that some people will be confused about the references to Terrasa. This is a facet of the Culture’s language that revolves around a small little fact about how Culture humans are named. In English a person from Earth or Terra would be called an Earther or Terran. The Culture, however, use the suffix ‘sa’ to denote location, thus the Culture would refer to us as Earthsa or Terrasa. This is, of course, in their own language Marain. When a character is speaking in English, they will use the more conventional Earther and Terran.
Regarding the date of Harry’s celebrated "birthday", I’m basing this off the fact that I don’t think Dumbledore would have bothered to include such information in his letter to Petunia, therefore leaving Sma and Skaffen-Amtiskaw with no way of knowing Harry’s true date of birth. The date of November 2nd is deduced by several facts. Voldemort was defeated sometime on Halloween night; October 31st. The following day, November 1st, Vernon Dursley saw wizards celebrating in the streets, while Professor McGonagall observed the Dursley family. Dumbledore and Hagrid arrived that night to leave Harry on the doorstep. Petunia would therefore have most likely found Harry sometime the next morning, November 2nd. Sma and Skaffen-Amtiskaw arrived shortly before sunrise that day, before the Dursleys woke up and discovered Harry. They then arbitrarily assigned that date to Harry as his birthday, being the day the picked him up.
I don’t really know how far I’m going to go with this story — certainly I intend to cover Harry’s first year at Hogwarts (or however much will be left by the time he actually arrives at the planet). While the first year will follow the canon storyline somewhat, after that I intend for things to diverge substantially. Also, the level of detail chronicling Harry’s time at Hogwarts might vary depending on circumstances — perhaps with some rather lengthy gaps and breaks.
Finally, the GCU It’s Not My Fault (Escarpment Class) will be the Culture starship on the spot and thus the principal Mind that Harry will interact with for the bulk of the story. However, it is mentioned that two other GCUs will be flitting about the solar system for the duration. While it’s doubtful they will have much of a part to play, if any, I’m open to suggestions for names.
The next chapter will feature some of Harry’s journey home.