Chapter 3: Between Worlds

When Harry woke up, he felt better—rested and somewhat recharged—but still nowhere near recovered. If he had to quantify it, he'd say he was at 25%, give or take.

Not ideal. Harry would've preferred to stay in bed until he hit at least 50%, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

Ra had summoned him.

Pushing himself out of bed, he began his morning routine. His muscles still ached, and his magic pulsed faintly, recovering, but sluggish. When he stepped back into his chambers, breakfast awaited him—lavish, decadent, something out of a five-star hotel. Though not starving, he ate as much as he could manage.

Moments later, his First Prime entered.

"My Lord," the man said, bowing. "All arrangements have been made for your travel to Abydos. I still request permission to accompany you."

Harry shook his head. "That would be ideal—but you know why you must stay. If I'm gone, you need to command in my name. We can't risk another Goa'uld getting ideas."

The First Prime frowned, reluctant. "Then, at least take more than two guards."

Harry sighed. "You know Ra prefers his guests to travel light."

With that, he rose to his feet. "Let's get this over with."

They walked together through the temple's grand halls toward the Chappa'ai. Two guards awaited them, already suited for travel. His First Prime approached the dialling device and activated the Stargate. The glyphs lit up. The gate whirred.

Then—the kawoosh.

The unstable vortex burst forward, then settled into the shimmering pool of light. Harry took a deep breath. This still amazed him—travelling across millions of light-years in seconds—but today, nerves stole the wonder.

His guards fell into step behind him as he stepped through.

Abydos –

The other side was dark.

Not pitch-black, but dim, as if the room they entered hadn't been appropriately lit. Instinctively, Harry's eyes glowed, and his enhanced vision activated—an unexpected ability inherited from the Goa'uld. His eyesight improved enough to make out the outline of stacked crates.

They looked… familiar. Too familiar.

Are those military supply boxes? He thought. Why would they be here?

Before he could consider further, a sound shattered the quiet—sharp, mechanical pops.

Then the pain.

A barrage of small, fast-moving projectiles struck him and his guards. Bullets.

Blood sprayed across his chest.

The force knocked him off balance. He collapsed, barely aware of his Jaffa falling beside him. As darkness closed in, he had one final thought:

That… sounded like a gun.

Limbo – Platform 9¾

As he slipped into unconsciousness, pain and darkness surged around him. But then—like a flicker of light through the fog—he opened his eyes and found himself standing on Platform 9¾ again.

"No. Not again."

It felt like a memory breaking through reality. Only this time, something was different.

She was there.

Lily Potter.

She stood by the bench, bathed in soft light, her red hair glowing like fire under the station lamps. Her eyes met his, and in them was everything he had longed for—love, safety, belonging.

Harry didn't speak. He ran.

She caught him in her arms, and the years melted away.

"Mum…" he whispered, barely holding back a sob.

She held him tighter. "My sweet boy. Look at you."

They didn't move for what felt like hours. When they finally did, they walked to the bench, awkwardly clinging to each other, unwilling to let go.

He studied her face, really looked at her. The curve of her cheek, the smile lines, the sparkle in her eyes. She was real, and it ached.

"Am I dead?" he asked, voice small.

Lily smiled gently. "No. You're not done yet. You're between places while your body fights to keep you alive."

"And you?"

"I don't know. I just… felt you calling out. So I came."

Harry's throat tightened. "I didn't mean to end up like this. I was trying to help everyone, and now I've—"

"Shhh," she interrupted, brushing his hair back. "You've always carried the weight of others even when you were a little boy. Always trying to protect. But Harry, you're still allowed to live."

"This new world… It's violent. Alien. I don't know who I am anymore."

"You're my son," she said fiercely. "That's who. You may wear another's knowledge, but your soul is still yours. The Goa'uld may have left its mark—but it didn't break you."

Harry clenched his fists. "I can feel it, Mum. The temptation. The power. I knew things I shouldn't. Spoke like someone else. It was so easy to lie."

"Then make the hard choices, Harry. The ones that prove who you are. You've done it before."

She reached up and rested her palm on his chest.

"The world you've entered is vast and dangerous. But also full of wonder. Magic didn't end with your old world—it followed you. Don't let fear make you forget how to live."

Harry laughed softly. "You sound like Dumbledore."

"Well," she smirked, "he did borrow a few lines from me."

He smiled—but it didn't last. "What if I fail?"

Lily leaned in and whispered, "Then you try again. And if you fall, you fall knowing you did not run."

Her image began to fade.

"Wait! Don't go—please."

"I'll always be with you, love. Just not like this."

She began to disappear into light.

"Harry?" she said, her voice growing faint.

"Yeah?"

"Give me lots of grandchildren. And teach them not to run head-first into magical portals, alright?"

He laughed. Or maybe cried. It was hard to tell.

And then the light faded, and cold reality returned.

SG-1 Encounter

Harry awoke in agony.

His eyes flickered open just enough to see unfamiliar faces—military uniforms. One man knelt beside him, checking his pulse.

"Jack, he's alive," the man said.

The other man—Jack—stepped forward, weapon raised.

"I'll fix that," Jack muttered, lifting the gun.

Harry's heart pounded, panic rising.

"Are you insane, Jack?!" the man next to him shouted.

Harry felt gratitude for him—until the following words came.

"I know he's one of them. But he's not dead, and we can learn from him. Imagine what this guy knows!"

Jack frowned. "You want to experiment on it, Daniel?"

Daniel. That was the other man's name.

Harry's gratitude turned to fury. They were going to treat him like a lab specimen.

"Sir, he's semi-conscious," one of the soldiers said while securing his limbs.

"Handle it," Jack ordered.

Harry saw the rifle butt coming—but couldn't move.

Everything went black.

To be continued…

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