A/N: This is (currently) a teaser for a reasonably short story (less than 100K words in all likelihood) exploring a possible intersection between the HP and Stargate universes. It is also intended as a setup to enable potentially fun sequels. See more notes at the end.

WARNING: While it is not strictly required, if you do not know both the Stargate and HP universes, you will probably miss a lot.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or Stargate: SG-1. I am merely borrowing sand from these two lovely sandboxes. I am not making money on this. This disclaimer applies to all chapters in this work.

Chapter 1

Desperate Measures

Cheyenne Mountain was beautiful this time of year in spite of the overcast sky. Swathed in verdant green, it stood silent sentry over the small visitor center built by the American military. To the left was a stunning vista, fronted by a lush plateau. A small building stood off to the right — the visitor center itself.

And at the side of the long, rain-slicked road, just a few hundred feet from the guard booth, stood a young, bedraggled girl.

She was a tiny thing, and the way she was bundled up only made her seem smaller. At perhaps five foot four, she looked like she couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds, even sopping wet as she was. Her faded blue jeans were soaked through, and the bulky forest green jacket she wore wasn't any better. A beat up knapsack hung haphazardly over one shoulder.

Her exhausted brown eyes skittered over the scene, slowly taking it in.

After a long moment of indecision, she trudged toward the guard booth. Today's guard was a staid sort of fellow who quickly noted her approach. He was probably wondering where her parents were.

"This is a restricted area," he said, his tone flat.

But the girl just nodded her understanding. When she spoke, her voice was soft and raspy. "I'm looking for Doctor Daniel Jackson," she explained quietly. "I was told I could find him here."

The guard frowned. "Name?" he queried.

"Ginny Weasley."


Getting into or out of the Mountain was much more involved than one would think. When most people thought of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, they probably imagined the inside of the NORAD command center. Few realized just how extensive the Complex actually was.

It was annoying for Daniel Jackson, who was deep into his latest project when he received the call informing him of an unexpected visitor.

He arrived at the visitor center nearly half an hour later. He had no idea who would be looking for him here; he had no family to speak of — on this planet, at least — and rarely even visited his apartment in Colorado Springs. Who would even know where to find him?

When he walked into the small conference room, his first impression of the girl was that she'd seen better days. She was huddled down in her chair as deeply as she could manage without curling up in a ball, and had her arms wrapped around herself to ward off the cold. Daniel figured it was only a matter of time before her teeth started chattering.

Her long red hair was plastered to her scalp, the bulk of it pulled over her shoulder so she wouldn't lean against it, though several strands had escaped and were stuck to her cheek. He doubted that was much fun to deal with right now; all that hair was just as wet as the rest of the poor girl. He couldn't help but pity her in her current state.

When she looked up at him, though, he was struck dumb for a moment.

Her gaze unexpectedly pierced him, sharp and discerning, and shocking in its intensity. He felt horribly exposed in that singular, interminable first moment as she examined him. It left the distinct impression that he had just been evaluated as a threat — and then summarily dismissed.

It was extremely disconcerting coming from this tiny slip of a girl.

But then the moment passed, and those eyes turned soft and curious, leaving him to wonder if he'd imagined it. She said nothing, content to wait for him. The exhaustion written plainly across her delicate features might have had something to do with that; she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Ginny Weasley?" he asked, his irritation at the interruption to his work long forgotten.

She nodded, and her brow furrowed. "Doctor Jackson?" she returned quietly, her voice almost hopeful. From even only those two words, he could tell that her accent was distinctly British.

"That's me," he smiled as he pulled a chair out opposite her and took a seat. "What can I do for you?"

"A friend of mine is very sick," she told him quietly. "Someone told me you can help."

Daniel frowned. "You realize I'm an archeologist, right?" he wondered. "I'm not a medical doctor."

The girl blinked at him. "Er, no?" she said in clear confusion. "All I know is that I'm supposed to tell you that he needs to be with the Nox, whatever that means."

Daniel thought he managed to hide his shock at the reference, but he couldn't stop his frown from deepening. "Who told you that?" he wondered.

"She said her name was Oma."


Jackson's reaction was startling but unsurprising. Clearly he had encountered Oma before, or at least knew of her; his shock was plain as day, and he told her to stay put before exiting the room at nearly a run. Ginny worried over it, but then he came back a few minutes later and asked her to follow him.

She truly was exhausted. She'd been in constant motion ever since her unexpected encounter with Oma just over two weeks ago. She almost ignored the event, thinking that maybe she imagined it, but she learned soon enough that her proposed destination was a real place.

And she had never heard of Cheyenne Mountain before in her life.

Researching it under her mother's overprotective nose was easy thanks to her father's obsession with muggles. He had an old encyclopedia set in his shed, and it was simple enough to spend some time poking through it. It didn't say all that much really, but it was enough for her to have a vague idea of what this place was and why it existed.

Getting here was another matter entirely, though.

She felt guilty for borrowing Harry's invisibility cloak, but she really had no other choice. Active magic was right out; she was underage, and what little she knew of MACUSA told her they were best avoided. The cloak was the only way to get here without being noticed — not that doing so was as easy as she might have imagined. Muggle airplanes were extremely cramped, especially when one was invisible and trying to remain undetected.

And now that she was here, she was distinctly relieved to know that Daniel Jackson actually existed, and that she hadn't simply gone insane.

Dr. Jackson herded her into his automobile, and then drove them several kilometers up the road and into a pipe that stuck out of the mountain. He pulled over some distance in, and then directed her through the thickest door she had ever seen.

It was at least three feet thick, made of metal, and almost as large as the main doors of Hogwarts Castle. It opened into a big empty room, the purpose of which she couldn't guess at. He kept walking, and led her through another enormous door on the other side, identical to the first.

And then things took a turn for the surreal.

Once inside, it took her a moment to understand what she was seeing. There were entire multi-story buildings made of metal inside the mountain, complete with roads running amongst them. She couldn't tell how extensive the place was, and could only wonder if the Goblins had ever managed anything quite so impressive. Sure, they had tunnels and vaults, but that was more like caves with doors than anything else.

She was no bigot — she didn't discount the capabilities of the muggles — but she couldn't even begin to understand how they accomplished this without magic.

Jackson was clearly amused by her reaction and patiently waited for her to pull herself back together before they continued. A bus took them to an out of the way building that was newer than the rest. It was a good thing she hadn't tried to sneak into this place; she doubted that even Harry's invisibility cloak would have made it possible.

She almost panicked when they searched her knapsack, but the only thing magical in it was Harry's cloak (protected from the water by a plastic trash bag she'd thought to grab from the airplane's galley when she heard it was raining). Fortunately, it looked like a normal cloak until it was worn. It was a good thing that she hadn't brought any obviously magical paraphernalia, though.

And once that was done, they travelled down more than twenty floors deeper into the earth via two different elevators.

Ginny was overwhelmed by the time they reached their destination. She had no idea what this place was, why they built it, or how it was even possible. Every last bit of awareness she had of the muggles could never have prepared her for the reality of what they had achieved here.

She followed docilely along as he led her into a conference room. In pride of place stood a large mahogany table, surrounded by leather chairs. A window along one wall was covered from the other side by a metal plate of some sort. Its purpose was a mystery.

A number of people were already present, and that made her wary. Oma had not been very forthcoming, and she had no idea what to expect. For the moment she would just have to trust her instincts.

Before she could get any further in examining her surroundings, though, Jackson drew her attention by draping a warm blanket around her shoulders. Where he got it from she didn't know and didn't care. She quickly grabbed the edges and pulled it tight around herself, taking advantage of the added warmth, and smiled up at him in thanks.

She was freezing, and the cool air this deep underground wasn't helping.

"Come sit down," he offered.

She allowed him to lead her to one of the chairs, dimly aware of the scrutiny of the other people at the table as she sank gratefully into it. On the left was a uniformed man a little older than Dr. Jackson, with a serious face and sharp eyes — but the raised eyebrow and the quirk of his lips as he watched them told her that he probably had a sense of humor, at least.

Across from him was a younger blonde woman, also in uniform, and Ginny immediately marked her as intelligent. You could see it in her eyes. She was one who wanted to know everything about everything, though she seemed much more relaxed than most of the Ravenclaws she knew (or Hermione Granger, for that matter).

The man next to her, however…

He was enormous, dark skinned, and had a golden symbol etched into his forehead that she could swear she'd seen somewhere before. It looked almost like an Egyptian hieroglyph. Her oldest brother would probably be able to tell her what it meant, but she herself had no idea.

What gave her pause, though, was how he felt to her. She had always been able to sense magic in people, and could tell that he had no more than the usual spark that existed in the average muggle, but it was almost like there were two of them. On top of that, it just felt… different. Other. She couldn't quite put it into words, and it was more than a little unsettling.

His raised eyebrow told her that she'd been caught staring, and she forced herself to move on.

The final participant was an older man who, if not for the uniform, looked like someone's grandfather. He was portly and balding, but the sense of authority he exuded was palpable. Whoever this man was, it was clear that he was in charge here.

He subtly proved it a moment later.

"Dr. Jackson?" he prompted.

Her benefactor had disappeared behind her again, and now ignored the man for a moment in favor of sliding a tall styrofoam cup in front of her. Her eyes widened at the steam she could see rising from it, and she wasted no time in wrapping her hands around it. Peering inside revealed that it was hot chocolate.

She took a sip and relished the taste — and the much needed warmth that it offered.

"General," Jackson finally greeted as as he slid into a seat next to her. "This is Ginny Weasley. Oma sent her to ask me for help."

Ginny peered at them over the edge of her cup at the sudden silence. She could easily see the shock on their faces. They were all too obviously aware of Oma's existence. And sure enough—

"Oma," repeated the man on the left flatly. "As in…"

Instead of answering him immediately, Dr. Jackson rolled his eyes and turned to Ginny to make the introductions. "This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter, and Teal'c," he told her, pointing out each of them as he went. "And this is General George Hammond. He runs the facility here, and we work for him."

Ginny nodded to each of them as he spoke, but otherwise said nothing.

"And yes, Jack, as in," he continued after a moment. "Or do you know another Oma who knows where to find me?"

Jack blinked. "Ooookay," he said slowly. And then he turned a calculating gaze on Ginny. For all that she could detect his sense of humor, she also thought this man was not someone to underestimate. "Help with what, exactly?" he asked her.

"A sick friend," she answered quietly. "Oma said he needs to be with the Nox."

Eyebrows went up around the table at that, and she noted that they were a lot less confused by it than she was. They knew something. For the first time since all this started, she felt a spark of hope ignite. Could they really help?

"The Nox," repeated O'Neill, tapping his pen idly on the table, his gaze still fixed on her.

Ginny just shrugged. "I have no idea what it means," she said honestly. "She only told me that if I wanted to help my friend, I should give that message to Dr. Jackson."

"You don't know what it means?" echoed Carter.

Ginny just shook her head at her; she didn't feel the need to repeat herself. They were doing that for her already anyway.

The Colonel's gaze shifted away from her, and he stared at Jackson for a while. Dr. Jackson, though, was busy staring into the middle distance. When he finally came out of it, he ignored the Colonel and focused on the General instead.

"Oma wouldn't get involved unless it was important," he said bluntly.

The General glanced at him, but didn't otherwise acknowledge the comment. Instead he remained focused on Ginny. He apparently wanted some answers.

"What kind of help does your friend need?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she admitted softly. "Nobody knows what's wrong with him. He doesn't eat, he doesn't talk, he doesn't move…" She trailed off with a shrug, doing her best to keep her worry from showing on her face.

O'Neill frowned, and Carter's face took on a look of deep thought. Teal'c simply watched her; he hadn't shown even a single iota of emotion so far. She really didn't know what to make of him.

"How did he end up like that?" frowned Carter after a moment.

"Nobody saw what happened," Ginny shrugged. "He was like that when we found him."

O'Neill looked he was about to ask something, but Hammond beat him to it. "And where was that, exactly?" he frowned.

Ginny couldn't quite suppress her wince at the question.

She had assumed that Jackson would be a wizard, and so had given little thought to how she would answer questions from muggles. The matter was obviously covered by the Statute, but she was getting the distinct impression that they wouldn't stop asking questions until they knew everything they wanted to know. Giving them vague answers would only make things frustrating.

In the end, she decided to tell them the flat truth. It was the only option she had that wasn't likely to result in them thinking she was being difficult on purpose.

"I really can't answer that," she sighed softly.

"Why not?" frowned O'Neill.

"Because I'm not allowed to," she shrugged, meeting his gaze levelly. "It's against the law."

An uncomfortable silence fell in the wake of her statement, and she took another sip of her chocolate as she wondered what they might be thinking. The way they exchanged various looks would have been comical under other circumstances. Right now, though, she really wanted to know about the Nox, whatever that meant.

"I'm not seeing it," said O'Neill finally, turning back to her. "Against what law?" he asked. "You're way too young to be messing with classified information."

Ginny blinked. "I really don't think I can tell you any more," she frowned.

"Let's look at it from another perspective, Ginny," offered Jackson thoughtfully. "You need help for your friend, right?"

She nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

"Then we need to know everything we can," he told her. And then he held up a hand to forestal her when she went to repeat that it was illegal. "We have very high security clearances here," he explained, "and there's a pretty good chance we already have clearance for whatever you're worried about. If you can point us in the right direction, we can find out if that's true."

But Ginny was already shaking her head. "That's really unlikely, Dr. Jackson," she said quietly.

"Humor me," he suggested with a smile. "If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong, but there's only one way to find out."

Ginny stared at his earnest face for a long moment. Even had she been allowed, she would have hesitated to share knowledge of magic with the American military. There was just so much that could go wrong. It would take a lot to get her to violate the Statute, and she wasn't there yet.

That said, he did have a reasonable point. For all she knew, any one of them could have a wizard or witch in the family, and might already know. She strongly doubted it, but it wasn't impossible.

In the end, she supposed that there was only one way to address it. The law prohibited the revelation of magic to muggles, but the name of that law made no mention of magic. And so far as she knew, there was technically nothing wrong with revealing the existence of the law itself, so long as you never mentioned what was being kept secret.

"The law is called the International Statute of Secrecy," she finally told them. "I doubt you've ever heard of it."

Eyebrows went up, and Ginny took another sip of her dwindling hot chocolate while they exchanged more looks. It was clear that these people knew each other very well. They almost seemed to say more with those looks than they did with words.

It was also obvious, however, that none of them had ever heard of the Statute.

"And how does one normally go about getting authorization under this law?" asked Hammond, his bow furrowed, possibly in annoyance, though she was having a hard time telling.

"I can't answer that," she frowned quietly back.

"Who else would know about this… Statute?" asked O'Neill, his sarcasm on that last word apparent.

"A lot of people," she said truthfully. He wasn't snarking about it for no reason, though, and she thought she was missing something. "Why?"

"Someone has to be able to read us in," he told her bluntly.

"I have no idea who that would be," she shrugged. "Your President might know about it, but that's all I can tell you. I know almost nothing about your government."

O'Neill turned to Hammond and raised his eyebrows in yet another silent exchange. Hammond looked at him for a moment, before slowly nodding. Then he turned back to Ginny. He appeared deep in thought for a moment before he speared her with a direct look.

"This is obviously important," the General told her. "From what we know of Oma Desala, she wouldn't risk involving herself without good reason. What can you tell us about your friend?"

The change in direction surprised her, and she really didn't know what he was after. On top of which, Harry was a very private person — and while she probably knew more about him than anyone realized, even her information was limited. But she doubted Hammond was looking for personal details anyway.

And anything else was off limits under the Statute.

"His name is Harry," she frowned, her words coming slowly as she tried to dig up anything she could safely say, but there just wasn't anything. "We go to school together," she continued, "and I'm really not comfortable saying much more than that."

"Harry…" prompted O'Neill.

What O'Neill wanted was obvious, but she hesitated. Unlike her, Harry had a presence in the muggle world. Once they knew his full name, they might be able to find out more about him, or even outright find him in the summers.

Then again, if they helped him, they were probably going to end up knowing his name anyway, so what did it matter?

She could only hope she was making the right decision.

"Potter," she finished for him.

"Harry Potter," nodded O'Neill, seeming satisfied that he'd gotten what he wanted.

"Is there anything else you can tell us that might help?" asked Hammond.

"I don't think so," she told him honestly.

"Very well," he said, suddenly rising from the table. "I don't normally like to bother the President with something this vague, but with Oma involved I think it's worth checking into. We'll see what he says."

Ginny's eyes widened. Surely he couldn't just call up the leader of their nation? Then again, this place was so far outside of her experience, that maybe what they did here was important enough that they really could just call their leaders. It was a bit mind-boggling.

She could only stare after Hammond as he walked away from the table. She had no idea what would happen, and she had to admit, that scared her a little.


Jack O'Neill was no dummy, contrary to popular belief.

This much should have been obvious given that he was the leader of Earth's premier off-world exploration team. One did not stay alive while wandering the Stargate network without having at least a modicum of intelligence and capability. Strangely, though, their enemies never seemed to make that connection.

Oh well. Their loss.

Ginny Weasley, interestingly enough, seemed to have bypassed that phase entirely. He was fairly certain that she recognized him as dangerous, in fact, at least in some sense of the term. Even so, she wasn't afraid of him.

The comfort she exhibited with their questioning was very surprising. Most children her age would have been defensive, or at least nervous, especially when deliberately and openly choosing not to answer. It didn't seem to bother Ginny, though; she just treated it like any other conversation one might have.

And that was not normal.

As strange and worrisome as it was, though, he still couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. He had already connected a few dots, and had a feeling that, for all that she appeared quietly blasé, this little visit of hers was an act of desperation. For one thing, she struck him as a likely runaway.

It was also apparent — to him, at least — that Harry Potter was more than a friend to her. It wasn't anything overt that gave him the idea; it was the subtle feelings hidden behind her eyes whenever she mentioned him, or anything to do with him. For all that she appeared nonchalant, she was probably suppressing some pretty strong emotions.

But beyond all that, who was she that an Ascended Ancient would send her to them? Leaving aside whatever was covered by this supposed secrecy law, there had to be something more there. Oma Desala didn't help just anyone, especially given the risks involved if the Others caught wind of it.

There was only one way to find out, he supposed.

A surprisingly comfortable silence had befallen the room, though Ginny appeared slightly worried about what Hammond was up to. He studied her for a brief moment, and that was all it took to draw her attention. That was another thing: while she was clearly not at her best — if only due to her obvious exhaustion — the girl was still unusually aware of her surroundings.

He would bet good money that she was a lot more lively when she wasn't so tired.

"Sooo," he drawled, idly spreading the fingers of one hand out flat on the table top for no reason other than that he could. "Wanna tell us where you're from?"

The girl blinked at him. "England," she shrugged in that quiet voice of hers. It was like listening to a pleasant breeze. He could still hear the slight rasp that indicated that she'd been out in the rain too long, though.

And her answer was hardly satisfying.

"Very specific," he nodded.

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly in good humor. He had a feeling that, at least in this, she was a kindred spirit. "I try," she shrugged.

"So what, London?" he pressed. "Cornwall?"

"I'd say London, Oxford, or Cambridge," offered Daniel.

"Why would you think that?" she asked him bemusedly.

"He's a linguist," Jack shrugged before he could answer. "He's going by your accent."

One of her eyebrows went up. "He said he was an archaeologist," she frowned.

"He's both, actually," Carter informed her.

"Oh," said Ginny, pausing for a moment to slot this into her worldview. But then she shrugged, "Well, he's wrong."

Carter grinned at that, and Jack couldn't help but mirror it. Daniel looked surprised, though. And this girl was good at not giving out answers, Jack noticed. Or at least, avoiding the useful ones.

"Then where are you from?" Daniel asked, his brow furrowing in concentration. He was clearly trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong.

"England," she said again, with a faint grin visible on her lips this time.

"It's a small place," Jack said with a solemn nod.

"It is," nodded Ginny.

Daniel, unfortunately, wasn't going to get caught up in the game. He just rolled his eyes and shook his head. Jack was disappointed; they could have had fun with that for a while.

Carter's eyes sparkled; she'd recognized the end of the round, and was waiting for the next one. She was clearly amused.

Teal'c… was Teal'c. He had nothing to say. Yet.

"So…" Jack began again. "School?"

"Not at the moment," she told him.

Jack snorted. "Yeah, should've seen that one coming," he nodded. "Summer break?"

"Uh huh."

"I miss those," he frowned.

The conversation might have continued in this vein — the small smile on her lips said she was enjoying it — but the sound of Hammond's door opening derailed them. Jack looked up to see him standing in his doorway.

"Miss Weasley?" he called. "Would you please join me in my office? The President would like to speak with you."

Wait, what?


A/N: I'm baaaack… sorta. Maybe. Kinda.

I may have taken a few liberties with the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, but according to my research there really are buildings in there that were built out of steel by the Navy (all mounted on springs, too). And if I understood correctly, there are even roads and busses! I really wish they still did tours…

But anyway…

This is (as threatened at the end of Champions) an H/G bond fic, and centers on Ginny as the lead character; that's just the way it's working out. If you don't like her no matter how she's written, then you will HATE this story, and I encourage you to go read something else. Please don't waste the time to review and tell me you hate Ginny; I don't care.

Me? I took her as the more or less blank slate she was at this point in the canon timeline and made of her what I would.

And my mind is a maze of twisty little passages. You have been warned!

This HP universe is a just-post-OotP AU, and SG-1 is an indeterminate post-S7 pre-Mitchell AU where Janet lives — though you won't see her directly. Oh, and Hammond is still around, because Hammond rocks and O'Neill was a better Colonel than he ever was a General.

This is, strangely, an HP-centric storyline that seems to spend most of its time in the SG universe so far. While SG-1 and friends have some fun scenes, however, this isn't actually about them. This version of the magical community just happens to exist in the same universe, and so they end up involved, but we won't see much of their own storyline (though various activities would certainly have an impact on it later down the line, and many spinoffs/sequels/AUs are possible).

In this round, it's focused on the magical. Don't worry, I don't totally blow SG-1 off like Sinyk kinda did in his sorta-Stargate crossover (which I enjoyed, btw). They're important to Harry and Ginny; this installment just… isn't about them.

There will be little to no bashing, at least so far.

So far it seems much more dialogue-heavy than Champions was, but we'll see how that pans out going forward, once all the introductions are made and everyone is up to speed. Mostly.

But I digress.

I had just north of 80K words of this written, but going back and re-reading it years later revealed a number of serious issues. I am rewriting the entire thing, which is taking much more time than I originally expected. Rewriting within a pre-existing framework is far harder than my usual stream-of-consciousness write-and-rewrite-and-rewrite-again 'til it sticks shtick, which rarely cares about pre-existing concepts.

That made no sense, I'm sure.

In any event, the update rate is likely to be extremely slow. I have a lot of progress needing to be made before I will feel comfortable publishing many chapters. I do not want to paint myself into a corner where I end up having re-post drastically changed chapters, and right now that's a distinct possibility. I need to get further along.

But I wanted to share this because I like how it starts, and I hope you will too. I WILL be posting more; I do not abandon my stories. I just need to get through some sticky spots and a lot of rewriting, and so I will make no promises beyond that. =)