There is so much awesome in that picture... I don't even know where to begin.

Who was the friggin' genius that made it?

 

Here is a plot bunny that came to live today while I was bored out of my mind at work:

Did you ever wonder why Voldemort never installed the second part of his immortality scheme? I mean, what use is it to split your mind sevenfold, if the only thing you get out of it is a wraithlike existence after your death? Wouldn't it be more logical and convenient to have an "uninhabited" spare body for yourself waiting already in a well protected location? What if Tom Riddle had thought of this angle shortly after making his first horcruxes, but couldn't find a way to produce a fitting ersatz body? I figure from PS and GoF canon that it's really hard to do this, but that it could be done with the elixir of life.

Early in his "career", Voldemort wouldn't have felt powerful/competent enough to tackle someone like Nicholas Flamel, but what about the time shortly before his downfall, at the hight of his megalomaniac rule of terror? If some "accident" reminded him of this possibility, he could've tried to use extortion tactics against the Flamels, attacking their widespread descendents/family in order to get his hands on the stone. This would rope the two immortals into the conflict, bringing them into renewed contact with Dumbledore.

With the right setting, the Flamels could be present when Albus gets the news about the Potters, thus preparing the way for a !ChildHarry fic where our hero is raised by a pair of 600 year old, uber- experienced alchemists. I can see Perenelle Flamel in the role of Minerva, berating Dumbledore about the stupidity to let a magical child of prophecy live with "the worst kinds of muggles". With the pull Nicholas and Madame Flamel could exert, I don't doubt that they could adopt Harry if they wanted to, giving the whole HP universe a massive flip. I'll flesh this out further today and be back tonight.

 

So... the first paragraph and the second hardly seem related... also, take a look at the WBA sometime...

 

If there is something like this in WBA -and I admit I don't browse there much, because I prefer complete fics- why don't you link it or at least give a title?

 

It's been awhile since I posted a bunny here. I'll give you the intro scenes and then an explanation of where I think this might go. Oh, and fuck you very much, LessWrong. I've had "make something on Voyager a horcrux" as an idea/germ of a story for about two years now.

I'll probably post this first bit in my one-shots collection. I don't know yet if I'll pick this up. My Harry/Winky Matrix crossover and Harry Potter/Battle Royale crossovers are a little more attractive (not to mention Dagger and Rose's sequel).

I present the definitive Harry Potter/Starship Troopers (the book) crossover:

#

“Rico, you’re wanted back at HQ,” Jelly barks. The Captain's voice cuts through the chaos of the backwater dive in that special way known only to former drill sergeants.

Something big is if he’s chasing me down on my R&R. An officer, even a popular one with a field commission simply doesn’t intrude on the sacred downtime of the MI noncom, which involves a chance to sleep late, chase girls, scratch himself, and maybe Waltz Matilda with a few Navy apes to educate them with their fists what real service looks like.

“Captain?” I ask, mucking my hand and slipping into my Mobile Infantry field jacket. I only had two pair anyway. To my left, Bunny, one of my Lances, is holding treys or better, judging by how he’s gnawing on his swizzle. The kid’s tells are so obvious it’s painful, but he makes up for it with uncanny luck.

I knock back half of Bunny’s beer and pat him on the head. He flips me a salute that’s not quite textbook.

I follow the Captain outside and we walk out of there in silence. Old soldiers don’t need to chatter to keep our mouths busy and our brains idle. We instinctively fall into step—again, old habits. The civilians we pass nod respectfully. One’s a gorgeous girl with curves that should be illegal. I smile to her, as pleasantly as a professional killer can, and she smiles back. Almost. I get points for trying, anyway.

Things are good on Sanctuary, about as homey a place you can find in the ‘Verse, now that Earth’s been turned into a radioactive wasteland and Mars has ceased to be.

You almost can forget the war going on outside. You know, the one we’re losing.

We pass the old OCS campus and I smell honeysuckle. Memories return like pregnant ex-girlfriends. I’d forgotten how much I’d hated this stuck-up hellhole.

Now that’s a story, me in OCS. The last time I’d looked through the antiqued fences at the manicured lawns and white-washed buildings was just after I’d chucked my third lieutenant’s bars on the Commandant’s desk. They were borrowed, of course—nobody buys those pathetic, microscopic pips—the eighth consecutive failure on that particular set. I’d foolishly taken them on as a personal favor for the man. They were his, apparently, back when dinosaurs roamed and the Bugs didn't automatically kick our asses every timme we met. I think the old man was secretly hoping I’d buy the farm, so at least I’d break his streak buried with a commission.

What I got for the headaches and the half dozen drops I made as the most supernumerary officer in the whole expurgated battalion were a couple commendations for heroics and a service medal I can’t wear with my noncom dress maroons. Oh, and a note in my file from "Acting Captain salute the asshole" Oliver Rosa, stating that I was a “loose cannon with no business leading grade school kids across the street, much less a platoon into battle.” Whatever. Punching the idiot’s lights out was righteous and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. It was his cockup that led to the Captain’s paying retail back on Cassiopeia Nine.

It was the second time I’d gotten the lash for insubordination. Hey, not many still in the Service can make that claim.

Why’d I do it, sign up to click my heels as a right gentleman? That’s a long story, but the gist of it is that when you’re new to the MI, you step up with an eager “Sir, yes sir!” and take a swing when they ask you to—and on the bounce too, you dirty apes! I was young then, dumb and full of cum, bucking for officer before I’d even worn my Sergeant chevrons a week. Hell, Jelly knew I’d do it once I declared as a career man. He even had the paperwork signed. God, I was naïve.

We pass through the first layers of security and make our way toward the command compound, a dozen temp-buildings ringing an ugly, sprawling brick structure.

Jelly pulls me aside just before we enter. “Watch yourself, Rico. This place has been thick with Intel staff and the only thing I’ve been told is the Colonel wants you here to brief you on a special mission.”

“Golly, how thoughtful,” I deadpan, nodding to my Captain that I’d gotten the message. Old Jelly's instincts are good and my noncom senses are tingling too. No full bird would involve himself in something like this if it were routine. I like routine. Routine doesn’t have me staying up late helping the Captain wire “We regret to inform you…” letters to a squad who bought the farm because of an cock-up we didn’t see coming.

Jelly continues in a gruff voice. “Out of every MI out there, you were recommended for this job, Rico, special orders coming down from the Sky Marshal. I also got word from your teacher friend back home. He pulled strings to get you in on this, Johnnie. It’s big. My gut says maybe ‘survival of the human race’ big.”

Jelly was rarely excessively dramatic. If he said so, it was serious stuff.

“Great,” I say with false bravado. “They want me. Tell me this isn’t a sign that we’re winning this war?”

He sighs. “Not even close. I could quote troop numbers, but Alpha Nine, or what’s left of it, should clue you in on how bad things are. Whatever that Oort anomaly was, it turned the tide of this war.”

“Above my pay grade to worry about such things, Cap’n.”

“Well, perhaps you should.”

We arrive at the Colonel’s door. Jelly knocks and the XO opens it. I’m sent in with a pat on the back that feels much more like a push.

#

I stand at attention before my commander’s desk as the Colonel ignores me, instead leafing through the folder on his desk. After some pleasantries that are anything but, we’re been left alone and the heat is stifling. It’s going to be a chew-out, then. Make me sweat a little, put me off my guard. Whatever. I’ve had worse.

“Johnnie Rico, Career Sergeant. Parents deceased. Enlisted at 17. Mediocre placement scores. Selected for Mobile Infantry. Basic at Camp Currie. Wildcats, Roughnecks, OCS, Third Lieutenant for fourteen weeks, but failed to receive a commission following a Court Martial. Busted to Private. Purported to be a ruthless warrior. Training includes battle suit mechanics, field medic, demolition, every weapon system from pea shooter to a tactical nuke… bartending?”

“It’s a calling, sir.”

“I see. A long list of commendations. An even longer list of civilian and military arrests and a penchant for bucking authority. That about cover it?”

“Yes sir!” I chirp. I don’t like reliving my past and I’d learned long ago that excessive obedience is more annoying in a dress-down session than combativeness.

He reads some more and clears his throat dramatically.

“Am I to understand that you have in your possession a Blackbird suit.”

Oh, fuck. The game’s up.

Through a bizarre turn of events involving trading in about a million favors, several through Father’s military industrial connections, I’d managed to get my hands on the hottest and sweetest piece of technology in existence. Hell, it was an orgasm distilled into nanotech and top-shelf AI. A mechanical suit to end all suits, one of only a dozen ever made and the only one I know of still in service. Whispered about with reverence on essentially every ship in the Service, the Blackbird is something special.

I’d disguised mine as a retro Command suit, similar to the ones deployed a decade ago to Flag officers in the field. I was known in the ranks as a bit of an eccentric with a bit of money behind my name, so my fielding a Flag Commander’s suit wouldn’t raise many eyebrows. It let me to hide my treasure in plain sight.

“That’s a mighty unlikely thing to suggest, Colonel,” I say unconvincingly.

“Is it now,” he says, his eyes narrowing.

Shit. Just the schematics on the guidance system are considered Top Secret, Special Compartmentalized Information. Hell, the thing cost more than a Centaur-class Starship. Made with the most advanced tech, she was so instinctual as to seem alive—more so than most of my soldiers, even. Worse, we couldn’t even produce the stuff anymore—not after the cryo labs on Pluto, where my childhood friend Carl was stationed, were wiped out early in the Bug War.

Yeah, the suit’s a she. I named her Pele, after the Hawaiian goddess of fire and she’s probably the only girl I ever truly loved. Keeping her secrets is the reason I’ve always managed to make myself the resident suit mechanic on any ship I serve.

The Colonel lowers his voice to barely above a whisper and I realize know why we’re alone. “Hypothetically speaking, Sergeant Rico, if you were to have had in your possession such a suit—ownership of which is a capital crime, I remind you—how long might you have worked with it?”

I take in his look. Despite the ominous words, he doesn’t have the appearance of a commander about to order a firing squad for one of his best soldiers.

I cough into my hand. “Since we’re still speaking hypothetically, Sir, I maybe had the suit for, oh, eleven years? Twelve? It’s hard to tell, spending so much time on ships. At least a hundred drops.”

He pushes back from his desk and stares at me intently. “I see. Again hypothetically, might extended use of such a suit have led it to enhance and adapt itself to your style of fighting, perhaps developing a sort of… initiative?”

“Funny you should mention that. Again, speaking purely hypothetically, such a suit may have even become self-aware, capable of functioning autonomously after its operator has been knocked unconscious. A suit like that would be a special thing, a real asset to your ranks.”

“Remarkable.” He returns to a speaking voice, one that’s laced with authority—a trick I never quite learned when I tried playing officer. “Okay, let’s get down to it. We’re building an elite force, Rico, to hit the Bugs in the testicles, if they had them. It's risky, but if we pull it off, we could end this goddamned war. It’s crazy, almost guaranteed to fail, but something tells me that you may be just the kind of crazy we’re looking for.”

“This a voluntary thing, Sir?”

“I’d like it to be. You’re going to be put under hypnotic triggers to avoid sharing info either way.”

I consider the blackmail he’s got on me. Hell, I don’t have a choice.

“I’ll do it.”

A side door opens and a man walks in. His hair is shock white, cropped short in a military cut. He’s shorter than me, slight of build, and looks like he's about seventy. The man has brilliant green eyes and, like me, more than a few scars. He’s dressed in a military uniform, but without rank.

“Mister Potter here will explain the details.”

#

The plot bunny of a slight AU, a start to a Starship Troopers/Harry Potter crossover. Some backstory:

Voldemort’s final horcrux was the song Johnny B. Goode, sent on a golden phonograph record on one of the Voyager missions.

Dark times fall post-Voldemort and desperate measures are taken. Eventually, an adult Harry Potter is imprisoned unfairly in solitary confinement in Azkaban, the sole prisoner there. It’s the only prison capable of holding him.

Through a somewhat surprising turn of events, Hermione, his lover, crafts a horcrux, leaving a portion of her soul in Dumbledore’s pensieve, which Harry is permitted to bring with him into prison. It's charmed to allow him to use it for an hour a day. (Allowing him to keep his sanity is deemed a more cruel punishment than not; also, the Ministry doesn't know the true nature of the device). Harry can visit Hermione every night. While in the pensieve, sees through her eyes and watches history unfold.

In the meantime, the Starship Troopers military takeover of the world happens. It’s bloodless for the most part, save for the near elimination of the magical worlds. All that remains are a few, pressed into service and permitted to practice only the mind arts--seers and mind-readers. The latter are the ones who practice the ESP in Starship Troopers.

Hermione, as a leader of the resistance, is tortured, then publicly executed by firing squad, all of which Harry witnesses. He has no love for the Federation.

Because of his ties to Voldemort, Harry finds he cannot die of natural causes. Four hundred years pass, his only company his nightly visits to Hermione. The enchantments fall on Azkaban and Terran soldiers take the island, seizing him and the pensieve in the process.

Unfortunately, it’s learned in the aftermath that one of the honorary titles Harry holds is Mage Protector of the Realm. The opportunistic Terran military leaders use this loophole/grandfather clause to press him into service in their Bug Wars, which have taken a turn for the really crappy in the past few years.

Harry Potter is the only conscript in the entire Terran force.

Voldemort’s horcrux had managed to be picked up in the Oort cloud by the bugs. He infests them, wreaking a terrible revenge upon humanity. Their hive-mind is ripe for take-over.

Harry and a highly disenchanted Rico become the core of a small group who take the fight to Voldemort/Bug Central. It's military science fiction with a touch of magic. Cynicism and ruthlessness. Inglorious Basterds.

 

Pers, that plot bunny made me drool.

 

I once said not everyone can shit plotbunnies like you Pers, I now amend that statement to say your shits are golden. You should write it.

 

I believe Sitra Ahra by Voice of the Nephilim resembles your second/third paragraph.

The first para seems interesting, but it brings up the idea that Voldemort is smart. If Voldemort is smart, then chances are he wouldn't have lost in the first place anyway. It's good to make a villain intelligent, but don't give them ideas above their station unless they have a realistic way of getting it from another source.

Also on this note, I'm sure there's another story where Harry is raised by the Flamels; written by an author on ffnet who has the word Mirror in their name. I don't remember anything else, and cbf to look for it.

 

Hmm, this one just kinda popped into my head like..randomly. I was watching the show Push, incidentally, I was also reading up on a squib!Harry genre fic(Squib by Dhulli, FF.net).

In any case, Harry in this particular plot is a squib as the result of surviving the killing curse. He has zero capabilities in regards to magic with the exception of potions, and a relatively quasi-controlled ability to 'push' thoughts/lies into people's heads, and make them 'truth'/real.

A couple of limitations exist for this capability - one time usage, eye-to-eye contact, magical exhaustion, etc to make sure the ability isn't abused to all hell.

I wonder how this Harry would turn out with the same sequence of events.

Thumbs up for the plot bunny from Pers(Star Wars). Just a shout out..

 

I haven't seen a good Groundhog Day style Harry Potter time travel fic. I too would like to see one.

Not really a thought out plot bunny, but I have been thinking of coming up with a story in which Harry is stuck in a series of time loops like in Ken Grimwood's Replay. Perhaps starting several years after Hogwarts on the eve of what Harry thinks will be the final battle in a war that has not gone well at all, one he knows for certain he isn't ready for.

 

Talking about Groundhog Day reminded me of the other fic from Naruto fandom - Naruto: Game of the Year Edition. It's medicore read, but it has a one great twist - Naruto life is like a computer game for him with stats, save points, achievement etc. I think HP version of it would be quite interesting.

 

If you give Harry a geass, you've got to give Voldemort a Knightmare Frame.

Edit: 200th post, bitches.

 

Nope. Not exactly a geass. Its definitely got its down sides. And like i said: Geass is that of absolute command, with a set-in 'memory loss'.

This 'push' makes 'lies' 'truth' and actually allows the guy to remember being manipulated o.o : much less effective, but useful nonetheless. It's big enough of an advantage that a Harry with any prowess in magic at all would be pretty much....a Harry Sue?

Yeah. That's about it.

 

Its been done by Rorschach's Blot, link here.

Its a fairly good one-shot that's got the right kind of humor to make it work. At least imo

 

Link not working, brah. Maybe it's ff.net that's having issues, though. Has happened before.

 

I liked it a lot, but I'd like to see a more serious Ground Hog Day - not sure how well that would work.

Also, yeah, it's ff.net having issues, link is fine.

 

Hmm....would any of you perchance mean something like a Harry Potter version of Reload, by Case13?

 

Wasn't Reload a bit more long-term than the single day Ground Hog Day is supposed to be? I got the impression that each loop lasted significantly longer.

A HP version of Reload would be interesting, though.

 

Anyone ever thought about a modified Harry Potter/Guild Wars transposition?

Harry could be the eventual, chosen interest of the Gods of Tyria, as he imbodies many of their aspects, although Grenth would be the one who takes the most interest in him.

This is because of the unusual curse that Voldemort (a follower of the deposed God of Death, Dhuum) cast upon him when he was a child, and Harry's subsequent survival of that curse.

(Necromancer!Harry/CurseSlinger!Harry! Woop!)

Due to the events of The Searing and the situation afterwards, Harry had to embrace the responsibilities of command and leadership (as he eventually did during the canon series), thus gaining the interest of Balthazar and Dwayna, respectively.

Lyssa's interest is a more complex one: as Harry had survived the curse and then ten years with his relatives before The Searing, his personality and character had been forged into that of a warrior and survivor.

(I believe that the correct terminology would be that of 'velvet covered steel' when regarding his character?)

As the goddess of illusion and beauty, her interest and admiration could be over Harry's expertly crafted 'velvet over the steel'.

Melandru would have little to no interest in Harry, although there might be some tension between herself and Harry due to Harry's initial survival of the curse that was cast upon him as a baby: him surviving went against the laws of nature, of what should of happened.

Abaddon, the exiled god, could take a less than benevolent interest in him as he is another possible route for his escape.

Each of the gods would take an interest in Harry's 'party' as well, some being more or less directly under one god's patronage, others under many due to their broad personalities/skills.

For example, Tonks would primarily be in Lyssa's -the Goddess of Beauty and Illusion- patronage, Ron would be under Balthazar's -the God of War and Fire- patronage, but Fleur would be under Melandru -the Goddess of Nature- and Lyssa's patronage, and Hermione would be under Dwayna's -the Goddess of life- and Balthazar's patronage (due to her wanting to protect the people that she loves, eg, Harry and Ron, etc).

For a better idea of things in regards to the Harry Potter character's personalities, and what the god is linked to which aspect;

Balthazar is the god of war and fire, and Patron god of Warriors, Pyromancers, Protection and Smiting Monks, and Command and Spear Paragons.

Dwayna is the goddess of life and air. She is the patroness goddess of Monks (particularly Healing Monks), Aeromancers and Leadership and Motivation Paragons, and is considered the leader of the old gods. Several Monk healing spells are named after Dwayna.

Grenth is the god of death and ice. He is the lord of the Underworld and the patron god of Ritualists, Necromancers, and Hydromancers.

Lyssa (sometimes only called Lyss) is the twin goddess of beauty and illusion. She is the patroness goddess of Mesmers and Assassins. She is also associated with Energy, Chaos and the attributes of Energy Storage and Mysticism.

Melandru is the goddess of earth and nature. She is the patroness goddess of Rangers, Earth Dervishes and Geomancers.

Abaddon is a dark fallen god that was outcast by the Gods of Tyria long ago and exiled to the Realm of Torment. He was formerly the God of Water and Knowledge and known to the Order of the Whispers as the God of Secrets.

Dhuum was the god of death until he was defeated and imprisoned by Grenth in the Hall of Judgment.

Kormir, the Goddess of Truth is the immortal incarnation of Kormir, the former Spearmarshal of the Order of the Sunspears. After having defeated the fallen god Abaddon, Kormir absorbed the divine power that was released, sacrificing herself, and thereby became an immortal god, taking over from Abaddon the powers of the God of Knowledge and Truth.

Menzies is the Lord of Destruction; a malicious dark entity opposing Balthazar and bent on taking control of the Fissure of Woe. He employs an army of darkness called the Shadow Army. In an ironic twist inspired by Greek Mythology, he is also Balthazar's half-brother. It is unclear if Menzies is himself a full-fledged god or some lesser entity.

Due to the richness of the universe, a storyline could either run as a parallel to the original, Guild Wars storyline (from pre-Searing through to Eye of the North, overall spanning several years), run independently on a close parallel to the original Harry Potter storyline, or be a complete blend of the two, with Harry and the gang following both.

---------- Post automerged at 18:52 ---------- Previous post was at 18:46 ----------

Have you ever seen a series called 'Roughnecks: The Starship Trooper Chronicles', Pers? It was basically a fusion of the movies and book, with all of the best elements of both merged into one, independent third series.

It was very different from the book and movies.

Maybe a transposition of that would go down well, with Harry, Hermione, Ron and a few of the other characters being apart of another trooper squad, and Harry basically taking Rico's role (as they're similar, surprisingly).

 

Hell yes, Moridin. That was exactly what I was thinking about too. I'm not too clear about exactly HOW long each loop lasted, only that they must have died, or did something to reset the loop.

Hmm...in Reload, it was Naruto & Sasuke...

It'd be hilarious if it was HP & Voldemort.