The cavern beneath Hogwarts had long been forgotten by every living soul, save two. A boy and an elf. Where others saw ruin, they saw a cradle of stars. Where others saw debris, they saw destiny waiting to awaken.
The spaceship, still resting in the vast underground chamber of the Chamber of Secrets, lay like a slumbering beast—its hull cracked, ancient wires exposed, its strange alloyed structure draped in dust and moss from ages of abandonment. But it pulsed with latent power, whispering to the one who listened.
Harry stood before the towering relic of another world, his wand held loosely at his side, his eyes alive with determination.
"This is where it all begins," he said.
Beside him, Dobby stood upright, wearing work overalls stitched from scraps of Basilisk hide and enchanted cotton. He was grinning with eager excitement, clutching a heavy satchel filled with tools and scavenged Muggle tech parts.
A spectral greenish glow flared from the side of the chamber as the Holocron of Salazar Slytherin floated to life, his translucent figure emerging like a ghost of purpose.
"It warms my soul to see ambition again," Salazar said with quiet pride. "When I first came to this world, I had hopes of one day returning. But my knowledge of Earth's primitive tools held me back. You, Harry, carry the potential I never had."
Harry turned to him, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's going to take time. Most of these systems are alien even by today's standards. But we've made progress."
He motioned to the newly installed panel—wires replaced with Muggle alternatives, sealed in reinforced magical casing to prevent corrosion.
Dobby jumped excitedly. "Haraldin sir, Dobby has brought lithium-ion converters from Muggle world! They look like weird sticks, but shopkeeper said it's the good one!"
Harry chuckled, taking the bundle of components. "Perfect. These might actually substitute the failed coupling capacitors. Let's try connecting one to the energy relay."
The two of them worked tirelessly, Harry guiding spells along the lines of the starship's runes, while Dobby reinforced broken skeletal beams with transfigured steel girders from the scrapyard he raided in Birmingham.
Each hour brought a breakthrough. The cockpit began to glow faintly again. The navigation panel, though cracked, flickered once when a new power line was laid.
It was not just about technology. Alchemy would play a crucial role too.
One evening, as Harry rested with a scroll of translated Slytherin notes in his lap, Salazar appeared silently at his side.
"I spent centuries searching for a solution to power this vessel. Earth's materials are too impure. Too weak. I began designing an alchemic fuel, something drawn from base materials but refined through transmutation and infusions of magical resonance."
Harry nodded slowly, his fingers tracing the faded diagrams. "You never finished it. But I think I can. We have more now—better resources. I've already sent Dobby to Diagon Alley for alchemical mercury and Phoenix ash."
Salazar's ghostly form looked toward the glowing crystal core at the heart of the ship.
"To awaken a starship from slumber," he said, "you must feed it starlight."
Harry smirked. "Or something that burns just as bright."
Days bled into weeks. The hidden laboratory chamber had become a second home. Scrolls and modern books were strewn across the floor, half-filled notebooks, flasks bubbling with compounds of his own creation. Harry's desk bore both a microscope and an enchanted alembic. At times, he worked in a haze of incense and fumes, music playing softly from a small enchanted wireless that Dobby carried on his belt.
One night, as Dobby stirred a silver substance that glowed faintly, Harry scribbled furiously into a worn parchment journal.
"We're close," he muttered. "If I'm right, this last step will bond the mercury with the phoenix ash. That gives us volatility... but we need stability."
Dobby looked up. "Dragon bone powder? Dobby fetched some from Knockturn Alley."
Harry's eyes lit up. "You did? That might just work."
With utmost care, he added the grey-white powder to the mix. The liquid hissed violently, turning a vibrant gold before settling into a quiet simmer.
Salazar appeared beside them, his voice unusually reverent. "You've done it. The Philosopher's Fire. It was theory before. But you've made it real."
Harry looked at the vial in wonder. "If this works, we have a fuel source. Enough to test the ignition core."
The next day, they stood before the starship again. Dobby floated the small fuel canister into place using levitation magic. Harry sat at the co-pilot's seat, dusting off the cracked dashboard.
"Moment of truth," he said, his voice calm, but his heart pounding.
He placed his hand on the ignition stone and funneled his magic in. The runes on the dash pulsed. The ship groaned.
And then—
A soft hum filled the chamber.
The lights flickered to life. Consoles glowed in amber and teal. The star-map projector stuttered once, then flared into the air—a thousand stars appearing above them.
Harry stood slowly, looking up at the map.
"That's the galaxy. That's where we're going."
Dobby clapped and spun in joy, shouting, "Dobby is ready to go with master, to stars and more stars!"
Salazar Slytherin, the ancient sorcerer and forgotten explorer, smiled faintly. His eyes, once cold and calculating, now held something else—hope.
"You are more than a boy with a scar," he said softly. "You are my legacy, Haraldin Slytherin."
Harry looked at the ship, at the stars, and then at Dobby.
"No. I'm not anyone's legacy," he replied. "I'm writing my own story now. One planet at a time."
And far below the halls of Hogwarts, beneath stone and secrecy, a legend stirred to life.
The stars were waiting.
Even though they had completed the first stage of the Starship's repairs, Harry knew the road ahead was still long. The cracked hull had been sealed, the basic energy circuits reconnected, and several damaged components replaced with Muggle-engineered substitutes. But the heart of the ship—its propulsion and navigation systems—remained lifeless. And more importantly, the alchemic fuel project was still incomplete and violent. Without it, the ship wouldn't even light up, let alone fly.
Yet, Harry was patient. In every spare moment, he and Dobby would sneak down into the chamber deep beneath the castle, where the ancient ship rested in eerie silence. They worked tirelessly, sometimes exchanging few words, other times laughing over Muggle tools that didn't cooperate with magic. Dobby, now more adept than most humans Harry knew, had developed a rather eccentric sense of humor around pliers and duct tape.
When he wasn't repairing the ship, Harry was immersed in study. Between Force training, wandless magic, and alchemical texts, his schedule left little time for anything else. His wandless magic had advanced to a terrifying degree. Spells that once required complex incantations and delicate wand movements now obeyed a flick of his fingers or even a firm thought. Incedio, Protego, Expelliarmus—all came as easily as breathing. And on good days, he could even cast more complex spells like Imperio and Fiendfyre without a wand, though they left him exhausted.
In the hidden depths of the Room of Requirement, where they sparred daily, Harry found his match in Dobby. The little elf had become dangerously powerful, not just in magic, but in his Force abilities as well. Dobby was now throwing around Force Lightning with childlike glee, laughing as bolts crackled from his fingertips and blasted apart animated training dummies. Harry had grown so used to the harsh, crackling lightning that he dodged it like second nature. Still, he couldn't produce it himself.
But he was close. He could feel the electric charge prickling his fingertips during moments of intense emotion, during the thrill of a duel or the frustration of failure. It was there—just out of reach.
"You need to feel," the Holocron of Salazar Slytherin had instructed him once, its ancient voice echoing in the chamber. "Emotion, not control. Passion, not restraint. The Force answers to will, not hesitation."
That lesson stuck with him. He just needed the right moment.
At last, the day arrived. The Goblet of Fire would choose its champions. The entire school was abuzz with excitement. Conversations about magical prowess, speculations over names, and fierce debates about which school would win filled the corridors.
Harry, however, remained utterly uninterested.
As he leaned against a stone pillar in the courtyard, arms crossed, his green eyes watched as students hurried past, most heading to the Great Hall.
"You really aren't going?" Hermione asked, appearing at his side. She looked elegant and sharp, her school robes pristine as ever.
Harry shrugged. "Why would I? I have zero interest in watching a flaming cup spit out names of people eager to get themselves killed."
Hermione sighed. "You sound like Professor McGonagall. Come on, it's tradition! You can't be at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament and skip the selection ceremony."
"Tradition nearly got Neville's eyebrows burned off during a Charms demonstration last week. Not very convincing," he muttered.
"Harry," she said, folding her arms. "You promised. You said you'd come. I don't want to go alone."
Harry glanced at her, then down at the dusty book still in his hand—a treatise on magical focus and Force conversion. He sighed. "Fine. But only because you asked nicely."
They walked into the Great Hall together. The room had been transformed. The Goblet of Fire stood at the front of the hall, atop a raised platform, its blue flames flickering with an unnatural light. Ministry officials were seated off to the side, some scribbling on enchanted parchment, others whispering among themselves. The other schools' students sat at their designated house tables: Beauxbatons at Ravenclaw, Durmstrang at Slytherin.
Harry noted Fleur Delacour casting another glance his way, no doubt still curious how he had resisted her Veela charm. He ignored her.
They took seats halfway down the Gryffindor table. Ron was already there, jittery with excitement.
"It's gonna be Viktor Krum," he was saying to Seamus. "No doubt. Did you see the guy at breakfast? He eats dragons for a snack."
"I hope not," Hermione muttered. "It should be someone with a brain, not just muscles."
Ron scoffed, but Harry barely listened. His eyes were on the Goblet.
The flames suddenly turned deep red. Sparks flew, and a sheet of parchment shot up into the air. Dumbledore snatched it with a practiced hand and peered over his half-moon spectacles.
"The champion for Durmstrang: Viktor Krum."
Thunderous applause erupted from the Slytherin table. Krum stood, stoic and silent, and nodded before walking toward the side chamber.
Another parchment emerged.
"The champion for Beauxbatons: Fleur Delacour."
More applause. She rose gracefully, her silvery hair gleaming like moonlight, and walked away with the faintest air of superiority.
Finally, the flames turned red again.
"The champion for Hogwarts: Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table went wild. Cedric, ever modest, smiled shyly and walked away to join the other champions.
Harry leaned to Hermione. "There. All done. Can we leave now?"
But just then, the Goblet of Fire flickered again. The room went quiet.
Another parchment shot out. Dumbledore caught it, and this time, he looked... confused.
"Harry Potter."
Gasps. A stunned silence fell over the entire room.
Harry froze. His eyes narrowed. "What?"
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again.
All heads turned.
Hermione turned pale. "Harry, you didn't put your name in... did you?"
"Of course not!" he snapped. "This is some kind of trick."
Ron looked at him, betrayal in his eyes. "But how?"
"I didn't!" Harry stood up, trembling with a mix of rage and disbelief. The weight of every eye in the room fell on him. Whispers exploded in every direction.
Dumbledore motioned him forward. "Mr. Potter... if you would please go to the other champions."
Harry stormed forward, fists clenched. As he passed the Slytherin table, he saw Draco smirking with malicious glee. Fleur looked at him again, this time with curiosity, and Viktor Krum gave him a stoic nod.
When Harry entered the antechamber, the other champions turned to him in shock.
"You too?" Cedric asked, startled.
"I didn't put my name in," Harry said coldly.
Fleur scoffed. "Convenient."
Harry stood silently, heart pounding, mind racing.
Who did this?
And why?