Summary: Bill Adama and Saul Tigh are instructors and administrators of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall are the Commander and XO of a Battlestar called Galactica. Pure undiluted randomness.
Author’s Note: I got the idea for this at around one o’clock in the morning and began writing it then. Typed in an hour. Inspired by the awesomeness that is “Blood on the Scales.” This is what happens when I type Flash Harry with the Galactica Soundtrack playing on my computer.
Strap in and prepare for launch! Today is a good day for crazy. All hail the glory of the Adama-stache! So Say We All!
Prevarications and Pragmatism
COMBAT INFORMATION CENTER
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
THE COLONIES
The cavernous CIC of the outdated warship echoed with the sound of alarms, as twinkling blue eyes took in the scene through half-moon spectacles.
“Message from Fleet, Sir,” said Dualla, the communications specialist, “Reads: Cylon-Cylon attack underway.”
She pulled the hardcopy of the transmission, and passed it to the spare, elderly Commander who nobody in Fleet seemed to be able to get rid of. He glanced at the missive on the paper with no corners, and scratched his smooth-shaven chin,
“Very well, Mr. Gaeta. Launch all vipers. And follow on that bearing. I want a complete tactical englobment before we ask them to surrender.”
“Sir,” said the young lieutenant, “The ship’s got no ammunition.”
“Well then, Mr. Gaeta, they shouldn’t see us as any threat. It’s possible we can work out an understanding between…”
“Albus!” interrupted Col. McGonagall, a woman long past middle age, with gray hair cascading freely down her back. Scarily competent, she had served with Dumbledore for years, and it was she who was responsible for Dumbledore keeping his career after so many poor readiness reports. She could only do it for so long though, and Galactica was the end of the line.
“Albus, they just nuked the Colonies. I sincerely doubt redemption is at the top of their processors at the moment.”
“Minerva, it is vitally important that we try to reach out to the Cylons, and as a personal friend of President Adar-”
He caught the XO in the middle of taking a swig of her ever-present mug of 80-proof ‘coffee,’ that she needed to deal with him, and unfortunately making her spew it all over the plotting table before she could recover enough to combat his latest idiocy.
“Albus! We’ve nae time for your stupid political gamesmanship and remorse, people are dying!”
“Oh, very well,” he sighed, “Plot a jump for Ragnar Anchorage.”
“No one’s plotted a jump that far in twenty years!” His XO protested.
“Well then,” he said, “we shall be the first. Another exciting adventure!”
The crew of Galactica bent to sullenly to the task set to them by the “Old Coot.”
It was not a complimentary nickname.
GALACTICA BRIEFING ROOM
SEVERAL HOURS LATER
“What do ye think of that Baltar fellow, Albus?” Asked the Colonel, “because he seems a bit shifty to me.”
“Oh, I think he just seemed rather overwhelmed with it all, after all, he’s a brilliant scientist, and a personal friend of Adar’s too. I daresay I trust Gaius Baltar unreservedly.”
McGonagall stifled a growl, fingered the grip of her sidearm, took another swig of ‘coffee,’ and began to plot a mutiny.
*************
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
SCOTLAND, UNITED KINGDOM
BEGINNING OF HARRY’S SIXTH YEAR
An inhuman screeching sounded through the castle of Hogwarts, stopping all the children in their tracks, and demanding that all of the students pay attention to a speech by the man in charge of the school. A man by the name of William Adama, whose bass rumble echoed through the halls, killing the students’ gossip and uncertainty about the war as he spoke:
“This is the Headmaster. Moments ago, this castle received word that a Death Eater attack against our families is under way.
We do not know the size, or the disposition, or the strength of the enemy forces, but all indications point to a massive assault against Ministry defenses. DMLE Deputy Director Bones has taken personal command of the remaining Hitwizards and Unspeakables at Hogsmeade following the complete destruction of Auror Headquarters in the first wave of the attacks.”
He paused to let it sink in a bit,
“How, why doesn't really matter now.
What does matter is that as of this moment, we are at war.
You've trained for this. You're ready for this.
Stand to your duties, trust your fellow students, and we'll all get through this. Further updates as we get them.
Thank you.”
********
HOGWARTS CASTLE
GRYFFINDOR TOWER
BOYS’ DORMITORY
“Is this really happening?” asked Ron, as Harry started to gather his wand and combat robes.
“What do you think? C’mon, Ron, you heard the Old Man, now MOVE IT!”
They rushed out of the Gryffindor boys dorm to get to the Headmaster’s office, stopping in the common room at to gape at the astounding sight of Hermione Granger, hair tied up in a practical bun and dressed in green military fatigues festooned with pouches and pockets of all sizes, calmly seated on one of the sofas, while assembling and slotting a magazine into a very intimidating-looking hunk of metal.
“Merlin, Hermoine!” Ron exclaimed, “What’ve you got there?”
She racked the slide, checked her wand holster, and gave him a smile that managed to look both predatory and amused simultaneously.
“Honestly, Ron, if you’d bothered to take the courses Headmaster Adama recommended instead of the bare minimum, you’d know it’s a Kalashikov. This one is the research project for my Muggle Studies Class. Professor Tigh gave us extra credit if we could transfigure something lethal.”
Then, she reached into the knapsack next to her, withdrew a pistol and a belt of ammunition, and tossed it to Harry.
“Here’s yours. I collected it for you, top marks as well.”
“Oi!” said Ron, a hurt look on his face, “You never told me you took that class.”
“Correspondence course with Professor Tigh over the summer,” said Harry, “Don’t look so hurt Ron, certain-events of last year just got me motivated to study…er…harder is all.”
“Sorry, mate,” said Ron, looking shamefacedly at the ground and missing the extremely significant and passionate glances passing between the other two,
“I forgot about Voldemort and Sirius for a minute there.”
“Oh.” Said Harry, who had been thinking about persuasive activities far more pleasant than the tragedies Ron mentioned, “That.”
“What?” Asked Ron, still clueless.
“Never mind,” said Harry, “I need to know if you’re with me.”
Ron had the grace to look abashed at his momentary lapse in judgment, “To the end, mate.”
“Right,” said Harry, nodding, an iron look of determination on his face, “Enough chit-chat. We’ve got ‘Fodders’ to slaughter.”
*********
HOGWARTS HEADMASTER’S OFFICE
TEN MINUTES AFTER ANNOUNCEMENT
Headmaster William Adama stroked his neat moustache as he and the Assistant Headmaster, his friend of many years, Saul Tigh, began to plot the strategy, now that the war was finally out in the open.
He tossed a pinch of green powder in the fireplace, watched it flare up, and stuck his head in,
“Mr. Filch. Get Hagrid and Flitwick. I want Severus Snape in an interrogation room in five minutes. “ He pulled his head out.
“Saul, make sure he gets there. Alive, but not unharmed. I want any information pertaining to the enemy’s whereabouts, tactics, and resources.”
The other man grinned wickedly. “My pleasure. Bastard’s finally gonna get his comeuppance for messin’ with the students all these years. Seems he’s outlived his usefulness.”
Tigh jumped through the fireplace, wand outstretched, just as Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the office.
Bill Adama eyed Harry with a gleam of paternal pride as he observed the set look on his face and the holstered pistol at his waist.
“Hello, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter.”
“Good morning, sir.” They replied.
He smiled warmly at the trio’s last member, “Morning, ‘Bookworm,’ whaddya hear?”
“Nothing but the rain.” Hermione replied, grinning dangerously.
“Then grab your gun and bring the cat in.”
The young woman smiled again and gestured to the rifle on her shoulder, “Yes sir. Boom, boom, boom…”
********
END
********
MMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmm. Random
Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Part 4 up
Moderator: LadyTevar
Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Part 4 up
Last edited by DrMckay on 2009-04-07 05:33am, edited 5 times in total.
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Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism
Harry & Co. with guns? I had a similar idea for a story (one of hundreds unwritten due to writer's block) in which Harry Callahan, as Lily Potter's uncle and her son's namesake, becomes Harry's legal guardian after his parents' deaths.
Harry gets what American wizards call a "wandgun," a wand that forms the wooden grips of a handgun. The muggle-borns FREAK the FUCK OUT when he uses it for transfiguration class.
As for Albus as a pacifist whose ideals bring him to the edge of idiocy, I wonder if you read some of Rorschach's Blot's stories (or wrote them if you're the same person)?
Harry gets what American wizards call a "wandgun," a wand that forms the wooden grips of a handgun. The muggle-borns FREAK the FUCK OUT when he uses it for transfiguration class.
As for Albus as a pacifist whose ideals bring him to the edge of idiocy, I wonder if you read some of Rorschach's Blot's stories (or wrote them if you're the same person)?
Please do not make Americans fight giant monsters.
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism
I'm not him, but I've read some of his stories, (Here's my profile:)
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1278551/
While they did provide a bit of inspiration,
most of it came from me being up REALLY early in the morning working on Flash Harry and listening to the Battlestar Galactica soundtrack, which go me picturing Bill Adama kicking ass and taking names somewhere besides Galactica...adn if Adama's there, you've got to have Tigh, and then it just sort of snowballed. I thought it was a bit interesting because Adama doesn't just blindly trust, and is willing to "roll the hard six"
As far as the Albus character I wrote in this, He's in the military, so he can't be a complete pacifist, but he is a careerist with an obsession with political connections and an overestimation of his own abilities.
It was fun, and giving Granger a parallel relationship to Adama like Starbuck was a gimmie. AND I got to bring back....THE MOUSTACHE!
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1278551/
While they did provide a bit of inspiration,
most of it came from me being up REALLY early in the morning working on Flash Harry and listening to the Battlestar Galactica soundtrack, which go me picturing Bill Adama kicking ass and taking names somewhere besides Galactica...adn if Adama's there, you've got to have Tigh, and then it just sort of snowballed. I thought it was a bit interesting because Adama doesn't just blindly trust, and is willing to "roll the hard six"
As far as the Albus character I wrote in this, He's in the military, so he can't be a complete pacifist, but he is a careerist with an obsession with political connections and an overestimation of his own abilities.
It was fun, and giving Granger a parallel relationship to Adama like Starbuck was a gimmie. AND I got to bring back....THE MOUSTACHE!
Last edited by DrMckay on 2009-04-07 05:36am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism
Angry, drunken McGonagall is a source of pure, undiluted awesome.
Varje meddelande om att motståndet skall uppges är falskt. - BOOM FOR THE BOOM GOD! LOOT FOR THE LOOT THRONE!
My mother taught me that it is the right of every woman to be seen, acknowledged, courted and proposed to at least once daily.
So, if you are reading this and you are a woman, will you marry me?
My mother taught me that it is the right of every woman to be seen, acknowledged, courted and proposed to at least once daily.
So, if you are reading this and you are a woman, will you marry me?
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor)
Side note, you do know that Snape is a spy do you?
Humans are such funny creatures. We are selfish about selflessness, yet we can love something so much that we can hate something.
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor)
Author’s Note: Inspired by season three of BSG. Ever heard of the Husker Hailmary?
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either of these franchises. I’m just having fun.
Prevarications and Pragmatism Pt. II
HOGWARTS GREAT HALL
0722 HOURS
THREE WEEKS AFTER THE EVENTS OF PART I
“Situation report?” asked Adama.
“Jinx, Deadhead and the Bookworm decided to bust Greenthumbs, Looney and some of their other friends out of Riddle Manor while the ‘Big V’ is gone. “ Tigh responded,
“Thanks to Snape’s information, we found out where it is, but last I heard they’re pinned down outside the front gate by mixed DE’s, Dementors and other dark creatures.”
Headmaster Adama nodded, “Good. We’ve got the villains where we want them. Get prepped, we don’t leave our people behind. Saul, get me Flitwick and assemble the Quidditch teams in the taller towers. We’re not gonna fight our way through a bunch of Dementors and Death Eaters. We’re just gonna drop in.”
“You do realize you can’t apparate on Hogwarts grounds, Bill.”
The Old Man snorted, “What, you’re channeling Granger now?”
Tigh just grumbled and let his old friend continue,
“I wasn’t planning on apparating out of them …” He looked at the smaller white-bearded man who had just joined them.
“Filius, I require your assistance.”
HOGWARTS GREAT HALL
SEVEN MINUTES LATER
William Adama’s voice resonated again through the halls of Hogwarts,
This is the Headmaster.
You've heard the news. You know the mission. You should also know that there is only one way that this mission ends, and that's with the successful rescue of our people out of Riddle Manor.
Look around you. Take a good look at the young men and women that stand next to you. Remember their faces, for one day you will tell your children and your grandchildren that you served with such men and women as this good earth has never seen. And together you accomplished a feat that will be told and retold down through the ages, and find immortality as only the Flamels once knew.
I'm proud to serve with you. Good hunting.”
In one of history’s little ironies, William Adama, a man named for another leader, another William centuries earlier called both William the Bastard, and William the Conqurer, was going to war. This time to help a young man named Harold.
Flitwick checked a bit of animated parchment, “Castle reports ready, sir.”
All students, brace for turbulence,” He turned to Flitwick, “Rig all external speakers and stand by to launch Blue Flight!”
Adama stood in the center of the Great Hall, aimed his wand at the center of the sky, and shouted “JUMP-A-GO!”
A multicolored beam of light leapt from his wand, hit the ceiling, and with a shudder and a flash, Hogwarts was gone.
RIDDLE MANOR
SENTRY POST
As Lucius Malfoy looked up at the snapping noise and flashing light that had appeared in an empty sky, he saw a red-hot, several hundred year old, several hundred thousand ton castle, earth, and various other bits falling directly towards him, he cursed his decision to join the Dark Lord, and attempted to apparate out. Unfortunately, he couldn’t.
As he scrunched into a fetal ball while the Castle fell ever closer to the ground, fervently hoping that he’d live through the impact, Lucius could have sworn he heard bagpipes.
HOGWARTS GREAT HALL
APPROXAMATELY 100,000 FEET ABOVE RIDDLE MANOR
“Altitude?” asked Adama.
Fliwtick looked again at the parchment. “99,000 and sinking like a stone.”
Headmaster Adama nodded to Flitwick , Tigh, and Sprout. “Launch, Launch them all.”
OWLREY TOWER
Friction from the atmosphere meant the castle blazed a fiery trail through the sky as it fell, and the fliers in the towers had the best view of it.
“Well,” said Ginny Weasly, trying to hold it together in the face of the present absurdity, juggling her wand and a sack of grenades while preparing to kick off with the rest of the Gryffindor Team,
“This ought to be different.”
As Tigh’s Pit Bull Partonus streaked into the room, Captain Johnson clenched her fist, and Ginny kicked off, getting a look at the other teams shooting from various towers of the castle to lend support to the belugared ground attack.
One -snap-and-a-flash later, no huge castle hit the ground. However, some other objects did.
It was probably for the best that Lucius Malfoy never saw the piece of debris that took his life.
It was a Hogwarts toilet seat.
*********
End
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either of these franchises. I’m just having fun.
Prevarications and Pragmatism Pt. II
HOGWARTS GREAT HALL
0722 HOURS
THREE WEEKS AFTER THE EVENTS OF PART I
“Situation report?” asked Adama.
“Jinx, Deadhead and the Bookworm decided to bust Greenthumbs, Looney and some of their other friends out of Riddle Manor while the ‘Big V’ is gone. “ Tigh responded,
“Thanks to Snape’s information, we found out where it is, but last I heard they’re pinned down outside the front gate by mixed DE’s, Dementors and other dark creatures.”
Headmaster Adama nodded, “Good. We’ve got the villains where we want them. Get prepped, we don’t leave our people behind. Saul, get me Flitwick and assemble the Quidditch teams in the taller towers. We’re not gonna fight our way through a bunch of Dementors and Death Eaters. We’re just gonna drop in.”
“You do realize you can’t apparate on Hogwarts grounds, Bill.”
The Old Man snorted, “What, you’re channeling Granger now?”
Tigh just grumbled and let his old friend continue,
“I wasn’t planning on apparating out of them …” He looked at the smaller white-bearded man who had just joined them.
“Filius, I require your assistance.”
HOGWARTS GREAT HALL
SEVEN MINUTES LATER
William Adama’s voice resonated again through the halls of Hogwarts,
This is the Headmaster.
You've heard the news. You know the mission. You should also know that there is only one way that this mission ends, and that's with the successful rescue of our people out of Riddle Manor.
Look around you. Take a good look at the young men and women that stand next to you. Remember their faces, for one day you will tell your children and your grandchildren that you served with such men and women as this good earth has never seen. And together you accomplished a feat that will be told and retold down through the ages, and find immortality as only the Flamels once knew.
I'm proud to serve with you. Good hunting.”
In one of history’s little ironies, William Adama, a man named for another leader, another William centuries earlier called both William the Bastard, and William the Conqurer, was going to war. This time to help a young man named Harold.
Flitwick checked a bit of animated parchment, “Castle reports ready, sir.”
All students, brace for turbulence,” He turned to Flitwick, “Rig all external speakers and stand by to launch Blue Flight!”
Adama stood in the center of the Great Hall, aimed his wand at the center of the sky, and shouted “JUMP-A-GO!”
A multicolored beam of light leapt from his wand, hit the ceiling, and with a shudder and a flash, Hogwarts was gone.
RIDDLE MANOR
SENTRY POST
As Lucius Malfoy looked up at the snapping noise and flashing light that had appeared in an empty sky, he saw a red-hot, several hundred year old, several hundred thousand ton castle, earth, and various other bits falling directly towards him, he cursed his decision to join the Dark Lord, and attempted to apparate out. Unfortunately, he couldn’t.
As he scrunched into a fetal ball while the Castle fell ever closer to the ground, fervently hoping that he’d live through the impact, Lucius could have sworn he heard bagpipes.
HOGWARTS GREAT HALL
APPROXAMATELY 100,000 FEET ABOVE RIDDLE MANOR
“Altitude?” asked Adama.
Fliwtick looked again at the parchment. “99,000 and sinking like a stone.”
Headmaster Adama nodded to Flitwick , Tigh, and Sprout. “Launch, Launch them all.”
OWLREY TOWER
Friction from the atmosphere meant the castle blazed a fiery trail through the sky as it fell, and the fliers in the towers had the best view of it.
“Well,” said Ginny Weasly, trying to hold it together in the face of the present absurdity, juggling her wand and a sack of grenades while preparing to kick off with the rest of the Gryffindor Team,
“This ought to be different.”
As Tigh’s Pit Bull Partonus streaked into the room, Captain Johnson clenched her fist, and Ginny kicked off, getting a look at the other teams shooting from various towers of the castle to lend support to the belugared ground attack.
One -snap-and-a-flash later, no huge castle hit the ground. However, some other objects did.
It was probably for the best that Lucius Malfoy never saw the piece of debris that took his life.
It was a Hogwarts toilet seat.
*********
End
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Chapter 2
interesting.............
Let him land on any Lyran world to taste firsthand the wrath of peace loving people thwarted by the myopic greed of a few miserly old farts- Katrina Steiner
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Brain_Caster
- Youngling
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Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Chapter 2
Interesting? Try awesome.
I couldn't stop chuckling for about 5 minutes after reading this. Something tells me Voldemort isn't going to last long against this headmaster and his second in command.
I couldn't stop chuckling for about 5 minutes after reading this. Something tells me Voldemort isn't going to last long against this headmaster and his second in command.
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Chapter 2
*dies laughing*
Great stuff.
Great stuff.
Given the respective degrees of vulnerability to mental and physical force, annoying the powers of chaos to the point where they try openly to kill them all rather than subvert them is probably a sound survival strategy under the circumstances. -Eleventh Century Remnant
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Part 3 (Edited)
Prevarications and Pragmatism Pt. III
LITTLE HANGLETON
RIDDLE MANOR FRONT GATE
Harry Potter lay spread-eagled on the ground, bloodied but not beaten, near his comrades as they hunkered down behind a low wall near the gate. Their diversion had failed and they had to take the consequences.
“Potter’s down,” Came the petulant voice of the elder Nott, “Surrender now, and you won’t be harmed. Well, actually you will, but you’ll be dead soon after, so it doesn’t matter.”
“SOD OFF!” Ron shouted, and tossed a couple of unaimed spells back over the wall.
“Slow then. This is your last chance.”
“What do we do now, Hermoine?” Ron asked, while frantically trying to stem the bleeding from Harry’s abdomen.
The young woman loaded another magazine and braced her rifle against the wall.
“Same thing we always do Ron,” she growled, “fight ‘em ‘till we can’t.”
Lying with his eyes to the sky, Harry was the first to see the Hogwarts descend in all its glory, but in his state, he found it hard to convince his friends.
“Hogwarts…It’s…beautiful….Are…are those bagpipes?”
“Quiet Harry,” Hermione said, “You’re in a lot of pain, and…”
She paused from firing and cocked her head up, seeing the castle and grounds of Hogwarts descending rapidly towards the much less imposing Riddle Manor, disgorging broom riders as it fell.
“Well bugger my giddy aunt, they are bagpipes. Looks like the Old Man came through.”
The brown-haired young woman looked back down the sight, and squeezed off another few bursts.
As the Quidditch teams softened up the opposition, Ron finished healing Harry, and helped him behind the wall. The bespectacled boy had a bandage cinched tight ‘round his stomach, a death grip on the pistol in his left hand and on the wand in his right.
He briefly tucked the pistol in his belt, pulled Hermione into a searing kiss and removed a grenade from a vastly expanded pocket. She and Ron followed suit, yanking the pins, and tossing the bombs as far as they could, while rushing down the length of the wall.
A few explosions and judiciously placed plastique later, they had made it through the breach.
“HAVE AT ‘EM!” Screamed Harry, as he ran forward, emptying his pistol to cover the others as they ran from cover to cover.
They were getting their friends.
******************************
LITTLE HANGLETON
RIDDLE MANOR DUNGEONS
The confusion of the attack had given Luna and Neville the opportunity to escape their captors, and pained and bone-weary from constant torture though they were, they took it.
Neville had managed to trip Rosier and stomp on his trachea, but with his fingers broken he couldn’t use a wand. That he left to Luna, who healed him with aplomb. Neville grabbed a very large ax from the wall. It would do until he got wand of his own.
As the gunfire and explosions grew nearer, Looney and Greenthumbs moved through the mansion looking for their friends.
They saw the Lestranges in the parlor, fighting a last-ditch battle against Harry Ron and Hermione.
Without speaking, or otherwise alerting the three to their presence, the two former captives hit them from behind.
With a stroke of the axe, Neville removed Bellatrix’s head, avenging his parents, while Luna banished Rudolphous into the fray for the Trio to deal with.
The commotion wound down, and Neville snatched up Bellatrix’s wand, aiming it at Rastaban, but he was slow, too slow, and he saw the wand fix on him, tip glowing, until Luna waved hers and took both of the surviving Lestrange’s arms off. She walked up close, dirty-blond hair flowing unbound behind her,
“Are you an animal, Death Eater?” the girl spat, “Will you sit? Roll Over? Beg?
“Bugger you.” Lestrange said with a leer.
Luna’s eyes hardened.
“Not today.”
Her wand flashed, and his body hit the floor.
“Time to put you down, dog.”
End
If anyone's got any other galactica/Awesome Adama moments to suggest, I'd be happy to write about them. As of now though, I'm out of material.
LITTLE HANGLETON
RIDDLE MANOR FRONT GATE
Harry Potter lay spread-eagled on the ground, bloodied but not beaten, near his comrades as they hunkered down behind a low wall near the gate. Their diversion had failed and they had to take the consequences.
“Potter’s down,” Came the petulant voice of the elder Nott, “Surrender now, and you won’t be harmed. Well, actually you will, but you’ll be dead soon after, so it doesn’t matter.”
“SOD OFF!” Ron shouted, and tossed a couple of unaimed spells back over the wall.
“Slow then. This is your last chance.”
“What do we do now, Hermoine?” Ron asked, while frantically trying to stem the bleeding from Harry’s abdomen.
The young woman loaded another magazine and braced her rifle against the wall.
“Same thing we always do Ron,” she growled, “fight ‘em ‘till we can’t.”
Lying with his eyes to the sky, Harry was the first to see the Hogwarts descend in all its glory, but in his state, he found it hard to convince his friends.
“Hogwarts…It’s…beautiful….Are…are those bagpipes?”
“Quiet Harry,” Hermione said, “You’re in a lot of pain, and…”
She paused from firing and cocked her head up, seeing the castle and grounds of Hogwarts descending rapidly towards the much less imposing Riddle Manor, disgorging broom riders as it fell.
“Well bugger my giddy aunt, they are bagpipes. Looks like the Old Man came through.”
The brown-haired young woman looked back down the sight, and squeezed off another few bursts.
As the Quidditch teams softened up the opposition, Ron finished healing Harry, and helped him behind the wall. The bespectacled boy had a bandage cinched tight ‘round his stomach, a death grip on the pistol in his left hand and on the wand in his right.
He briefly tucked the pistol in his belt, pulled Hermione into a searing kiss and removed a grenade from a vastly expanded pocket. She and Ron followed suit, yanking the pins, and tossing the bombs as far as they could, while rushing down the length of the wall.
A few explosions and judiciously placed plastique later, they had made it through the breach.
“HAVE AT ‘EM!” Screamed Harry, as he ran forward, emptying his pistol to cover the others as they ran from cover to cover.
They were getting their friends.
******************************
LITTLE HANGLETON
RIDDLE MANOR DUNGEONS
The confusion of the attack had given Luna and Neville the opportunity to escape their captors, and pained and bone-weary from constant torture though they were, they took it.
Neville had managed to trip Rosier and stomp on his trachea, but with his fingers broken he couldn’t use a wand. That he left to Luna, who healed him with aplomb. Neville grabbed a very large ax from the wall. It would do until he got wand of his own.
As the gunfire and explosions grew nearer, Looney and Greenthumbs moved through the mansion looking for their friends.
They saw the Lestranges in the parlor, fighting a last-ditch battle against Harry Ron and Hermione.
Without speaking, or otherwise alerting the three to their presence, the two former captives hit them from behind.
With a stroke of the axe, Neville removed Bellatrix’s head, avenging his parents, while Luna banished Rudolphous into the fray for the Trio to deal with.
The commotion wound down, and Neville snatched up Bellatrix’s wand, aiming it at Rastaban, but he was slow, too slow, and he saw the wand fix on him, tip glowing, until Luna waved hers and took both of the surviving Lestrange’s arms off. She walked up close, dirty-blond hair flowing unbound behind her,
“Are you an animal, Death Eater?” the girl spat, “Will you sit? Roll Over? Beg?
“Bugger you.” Lestrange said with a leer.
Luna’s eyes hardened.
“Not today.”
Her wand flashed, and his body hit the floor.
“Time to put you down, dog.”
End
If anyone's got any other galactica/Awesome Adama moments to suggest, I'd be happy to write about them. As of now though, I'm out of material.
Last edited by DrMckay on 2009-02-26 11:08pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Part 3
One weird thing I find about Dumbledore in this fic is this. Why would he be so friendly towards the Cylons, when he is not that friendly towards Voldermort?
Humans are such funny creatures. We are selfish about selflessness, yet we can love something so much that we can hate something.
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Part 4 up
Prevarications and Pragmatism Pt. IV
Author’s Note:
For those non-Battlestar Fans wondering what inspired my chapter 2 of this story, here it is, the Husker Hailmary.
This is what dropping a one-and-a-half kilometer-long warship into the atmosphere of a planet looks like:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HIGlMDa ... re=related
I must then ask why you have not watched Battlestar. The last episode was aired on Friday, March 20 on the Sci-Fi channel. The show is a bit hard to pick up, but the finale was pretty frakkin’ impressive.
And really damn weird.
And yes, I am shamelessly plugging my favorite show on television. (Tied with Firefly)
In this chapter we’ll see how utterly frakked the Colonials are, and in the next, just how good the denizens of Hogwarts have it in comparison.
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
RAGNAR ANCHORAGE
THE COLONIES
Colonel McGonagall was pleased-well, as pleased as anyone whose civilization had been destroyed that morning, anyway.
The mutiny was going well. The Old Coot had no idea what was being plotted right under his protuberant proboscis.
The only problem that presented itself was rather odious Secretary of Education who had come aboard for the decommissioning ceremony, alienated the crew faster than Starbuck on a bender, and had somehow survived the nuclear holocaust that had occurred as she transited back to the colonies.
It was even worse than that; however, as she was the forty-second in line to succeed the President, and it appeared that all forty-one above her were now dead, Gods help them.
SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER
Secretary Delores Umbridge was a massive, hideous thing with a face more befitting of an amphibian than a human, stuffed into a powder-pink cardigan two sizes two small with a ridiculous bow on her peroxide-blond head and big, boxy feet crammed in to a pair of delicate heels in order to make her fireplug of a body seem taller.
Her physical repulsiveness was only outstripped by her stupidity and bigotry; she hated everyone not from Caprica, and made that very clear as she carried a clipboard around making derogatory comments about the crew and scribbling them down while muttering their inauspicious content.
It appeared as though she wanted to issue negative reports around the military chain of command straight to President Adar, which would wreck any future career prospects the “miscreants” would have.
So it was that Colonel McGonagall, who wanted desperately to teach at War College after the decommissioning of Galactica could do nothing as Secretary Umbridge approached young Dualla at the Communications station.
“Hem Hem.”
The dark-skinned woman looked up, and nearly lost her breakfast as she took in the toadlike visage. She quickly turned her gaze to the cute boy in the suit next to her, and then back to her instruments.
“May I help you Ms.-”
“Umbridge, dear, Secretary Umbridge, and you are?”
Dee looked to Mc Gonagall for conformation, and at seeing the nod, responded to the secretary’s question.
“Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla, Ma’am,” She smiled, mostly at the boy standing next to the secretary, “But most people call me ‘Dee’.”
“Dualla,” mused the Secretary, “That is a Sagittaron surname, is it not?”
“It is, Ma’am.”
“Hem.” She withdrew a clipboard, and began to write, muttering things like;
“Allows…untrustworthy personnel in sensitive areas…complete lack of formality…use of nicknames…sets…a… poor example for the children…. and dignitaries…”
Dee was gripping the comm. console so tight her knuckles had turned white as she tried to carry out her duties.
The young man in the suit coughed to get his boss’ attention,
“Excuse me, Madam Secretary. You’re needed in the Gift Shop in the Starboard Launch Bay. It seems as if there are some issues with the merchandise.”
“Of all the incompetent…treacherous…vile…” Umbridge seethed, as she moved to another victim, leaving the CIC in peace.
The young man who had rescued her was smiling uncertainly at her “Er, Ms. Dualla?”
The young woman smiled at him in return
“Please, call me Dee. After all, we were in combat together…” that got a chuckle, and gave her the courage to press on- “What about you. Do you have a name?”
“Billy. Billy Keikeya.” They shook hands, made plans to grab a meal in the mess, and then Dee made a call to the Chief to knock some things over in the new Gift Shop.
Appearances had to be maintained, after all.
Every inspection and muttered imprecation left more crewers with ideas.
A young Deckhand named Cally was wondering if she could excuse blowing Umbridge’s stomach through her spine with her service pistol as an “Accidental Discharge of a Firearm.”
Commander Dumbledore was awfully forgiving of slipups…
Billy Keikeya was bemoaning the fact that the aide position had been given to him for winning a debate championship, and was wondering if he could bludgeon her to death with one of her massive pink shoes and take her job…Surely no one would testify against him?
But then he would have to touch the shoe-
That had touched her sock-
That had touched her. No frakking way.
Lieutenant Felix Gaeta was having recurring fantasies about jamming a pen into her thick neck.
Usually a kind, conscientious fellow, he fought temptation by leaving the writing implement in his quarters , meaning that he had to borrow one from a crewman to sign the watch log.
And nobody-but-nobody asked Kara “Starbuck” Thrace what she was contemplating.
The poor treatment of Petty Officer Dualla and other crew members in her inspection had a profound effect on the crew.
Her malevolence united them in permanently in loathing of Secretary Umbridge, and temporarily in support of the ‘Old Coot.’
At least until the attacks started.
********************
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
SCOTLAND, UNITED KINGDOM
BEGINNING OF HARRY’S SIXTH YEAR
IMMEDIATELY AFTER ADAMA’S FIRST ANNOUNCMENT
(IN CHAPTER 1)
The summer after fifth year had been a tense one for Harry Potter. Not only had the Dark Lord come into the open and his Godfather been assassinated, but Headmaster Adama, the man who had taken him in and raised him as one of his own sons had gone on a mission to gain allies and resources in the upcoming fight. This had left leaving Harry with his best friend Saul Tigh, and his eldest and only living son, Lee, who ran a tavern down in Hogsmeade.
Harry remembered his parting particularly vividly.
“Harry, I promised your parents I’d look after you if something happened to me, and they offered to do the same for Lee and…Zak. I’m about to break that promise. You’ve had a bad year, you need me to support you, and I’m letting you down.
I need to go gather forces and prepare for a war I hoped you’d never fight.”
Harry took a heavy breath, “I-I understand sir, It’s alright.”
“No, Harry, it’s not. You remember what I told you about responsibility?”
The young man nodded, “A man accepts responsibility for the things he’s done. He lives with it, every day.”
“This is my decision. My responsibility, and my shame. Besides, you won’t be completely on your own- with Ellen being…well… “
“Ellen?”
Bill gave a sad smile, “Saul’s going to be looking in on you, and Madam Roslin-ah… Laura…”
Bill’s voice dropped an octave at her name, and Harry smirked,
“…Said to write her if you have any problems. I also asked Lee to drop in.”
“He’s talking to you again?” Harry asked skeptically.
The older man shook his head, “He said he’d see you. Not me, so you two might have a chance to talk. Mend some fences”
The boy frowned, “He’s still mad at me for choosing your side.”
Adama’s moustache drooped, and he finally looked his years,
“He’s still your family son, he doesn’t hate you.”
Harry’s mouth quirked, “I’d like to hear that from him.”
The Headmaster nodded.
“You will. Write your friends, talk to them, and keep them close. Lee’s offered to take you where you need to go, and help you prepare.”
Adama clasped Harry on the shoulder.
“Goodbye, son.”
The boy was absolutely sure of one thing. James Potter might have been his father, who he resembled and was compared to, but William Adama, who had raised him, was his dad. And that was the difference.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
Bill’s eyes widened in surprise, her hugged his son, and with a -pop- he was gone.
Harry shrugged at the empty room, got a bit of parchment from the desk and set to writing.
Dear Hermione…
Author’s Note:
For those non-Battlestar Fans wondering what inspired my chapter 2 of this story, here it is, the Husker Hailmary.
This is what dropping a one-and-a-half kilometer-long warship into the atmosphere of a planet looks like:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HIGlMDa ... re=related
I must then ask why you have not watched Battlestar. The last episode was aired on Friday, March 20 on the Sci-Fi channel. The show is a bit hard to pick up, but the finale was pretty frakkin’ impressive.
And really damn weird.
And yes, I am shamelessly plugging my favorite show on television. (Tied with Firefly)
In this chapter we’ll see how utterly frakked the Colonials are, and in the next, just how good the denizens of Hogwarts have it in comparison.
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
RAGNAR ANCHORAGE
THE COLONIES
Colonel McGonagall was pleased-well, as pleased as anyone whose civilization had been destroyed that morning, anyway.
The mutiny was going well. The Old Coot had no idea what was being plotted right under his protuberant proboscis.
The only problem that presented itself was rather odious Secretary of Education who had come aboard for the decommissioning ceremony, alienated the crew faster than Starbuck on a bender, and had somehow survived the nuclear holocaust that had occurred as she transited back to the colonies.
It was even worse than that; however, as she was the forty-second in line to succeed the President, and it appeared that all forty-one above her were now dead, Gods help them.
SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER
Secretary Delores Umbridge was a massive, hideous thing with a face more befitting of an amphibian than a human, stuffed into a powder-pink cardigan two sizes two small with a ridiculous bow on her peroxide-blond head and big, boxy feet crammed in to a pair of delicate heels in order to make her fireplug of a body seem taller.
Her physical repulsiveness was only outstripped by her stupidity and bigotry; she hated everyone not from Caprica, and made that very clear as she carried a clipboard around making derogatory comments about the crew and scribbling them down while muttering their inauspicious content.
It appeared as though she wanted to issue negative reports around the military chain of command straight to President Adar, which would wreck any future career prospects the “miscreants” would have.
So it was that Colonel McGonagall, who wanted desperately to teach at War College after the decommissioning of Galactica could do nothing as Secretary Umbridge approached young Dualla at the Communications station.
“Hem Hem.”
The dark-skinned woman looked up, and nearly lost her breakfast as she took in the toadlike visage. She quickly turned her gaze to the cute boy in the suit next to her, and then back to her instruments.
“May I help you Ms.-”
“Umbridge, dear, Secretary Umbridge, and you are?”
Dee looked to Mc Gonagall for conformation, and at seeing the nod, responded to the secretary’s question.
“Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla, Ma’am,” She smiled, mostly at the boy standing next to the secretary, “But most people call me ‘Dee’.”
“Dualla,” mused the Secretary, “That is a Sagittaron surname, is it not?”
“It is, Ma’am.”
“Hem.” She withdrew a clipboard, and began to write, muttering things like;
“Allows…untrustworthy personnel in sensitive areas…complete lack of formality…use of nicknames…sets…a… poor example for the children…. and dignitaries…”
Dee was gripping the comm. console so tight her knuckles had turned white as she tried to carry out her duties.
The young man in the suit coughed to get his boss’ attention,
“Excuse me, Madam Secretary. You’re needed in the Gift Shop in the Starboard Launch Bay. It seems as if there are some issues with the merchandise.”
“Of all the incompetent…treacherous…vile…” Umbridge seethed, as she moved to another victim, leaving the CIC in peace.
The young man who had rescued her was smiling uncertainly at her “Er, Ms. Dualla?”
The young woman smiled at him in return
“Please, call me Dee. After all, we were in combat together…” that got a chuckle, and gave her the courage to press on- “What about you. Do you have a name?”
“Billy. Billy Keikeya.” They shook hands, made plans to grab a meal in the mess, and then Dee made a call to the Chief to knock some things over in the new Gift Shop.
Appearances had to be maintained, after all.
Every inspection and muttered imprecation left more crewers with ideas.
A young Deckhand named Cally was wondering if she could excuse blowing Umbridge’s stomach through her spine with her service pistol as an “Accidental Discharge of a Firearm.”
Commander Dumbledore was awfully forgiving of slipups…
Billy Keikeya was bemoaning the fact that the aide position had been given to him for winning a debate championship, and was wondering if he could bludgeon her to death with one of her massive pink shoes and take her job…Surely no one would testify against him?
But then he would have to touch the shoe-
That had touched her sock-
That had touched her. No frakking way.
Lieutenant Felix Gaeta was having recurring fantasies about jamming a pen into her thick neck.
Usually a kind, conscientious fellow, he fought temptation by leaving the writing implement in his quarters , meaning that he had to borrow one from a crewman to sign the watch log.
And nobody-but-nobody asked Kara “Starbuck” Thrace what she was contemplating.
The poor treatment of Petty Officer Dualla and other crew members in her inspection had a profound effect on the crew.
Her malevolence united them in permanently in loathing of Secretary Umbridge, and temporarily in support of the ‘Old Coot.’
At least until the attacks started.
********************
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
SCOTLAND, UNITED KINGDOM
BEGINNING OF HARRY’S SIXTH YEAR
IMMEDIATELY AFTER ADAMA’S FIRST ANNOUNCMENT
(IN CHAPTER 1)
The summer after fifth year had been a tense one for Harry Potter. Not only had the Dark Lord come into the open and his Godfather been assassinated, but Headmaster Adama, the man who had taken him in and raised him as one of his own sons had gone on a mission to gain allies and resources in the upcoming fight. This had left leaving Harry with his best friend Saul Tigh, and his eldest and only living son, Lee, who ran a tavern down in Hogsmeade.
Harry remembered his parting particularly vividly.
“Harry, I promised your parents I’d look after you if something happened to me, and they offered to do the same for Lee and…Zak. I’m about to break that promise. You’ve had a bad year, you need me to support you, and I’m letting you down.
I need to go gather forces and prepare for a war I hoped you’d never fight.”
Harry took a heavy breath, “I-I understand sir, It’s alright.”
“No, Harry, it’s not. You remember what I told you about responsibility?”
The young man nodded, “A man accepts responsibility for the things he’s done. He lives with it, every day.”
“This is my decision. My responsibility, and my shame. Besides, you won’t be completely on your own- with Ellen being…well… “
“Ellen?”
Bill gave a sad smile, “Saul’s going to be looking in on you, and Madam Roslin-ah… Laura…”
Bill’s voice dropped an octave at her name, and Harry smirked,
“…Said to write her if you have any problems. I also asked Lee to drop in.”
“He’s talking to you again?” Harry asked skeptically.
The older man shook his head, “He said he’d see you. Not me, so you two might have a chance to talk. Mend some fences”
The boy frowned, “He’s still mad at me for choosing your side.”
Adama’s moustache drooped, and he finally looked his years,
“He’s still your family son, he doesn’t hate you.”
Harry’s mouth quirked, “I’d like to hear that from him.”
The Headmaster nodded.
“You will. Write your friends, talk to them, and keep them close. Lee’s offered to take you where you need to go, and help you prepare.”
Adama clasped Harry on the shoulder.
“Goodbye, son.”
The boy was absolutely sure of one thing. James Potter might have been his father, who he resembled and was compared to, but William Adama, who had raised him, was his dad. And that was the difference.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
Bill’s eyes widened in surprise, her hugged his son, and with a -pop- he was gone.
Harry shrugged at the empty room, got a bit of parchment from the desk and set to writing.
Dear Hermione…
-
Sidewinder
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 5466
- Joined: 2005-05-18 10:23pm
- Location: Feasting on those who fell in battle
- Contact:
Re: Prevarications and Pragmatism (Humor) Part 4 up
I keep picturing Umbridge taking a wrong turn at a corridor, walking into an airlock, and then sharing Jammer's fate.
Then I remember vacuum would make a human being blackout in seconds, meaning her death is quick and almost painless. Something more creative is necessary.
Maybe an ill-advised fling with Brother Cavil?
Then I remember vacuum would make a human being blackout in seconds, meaning her death is quick and almost painless. Something more creative is necessary.
Maybe an ill-advised fling with Brother Cavil?
Please do not make Americans fight giant monsters.
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)