Chapter 6: Samples, Assassination and Future Force Training
Star Wars + Harry Potter Crossover
Chapter 6: Samples, Assassination and Future Force Training
794 BBY
2,859 ATC
Brentaal/Coruscant
Jedi Master Kylarn Sekel was very tired, though he did not allow such a thing to show on his face, instead he projected an image of great calm while allowing the peaceful nature of the Light Side to wash over him.
Like an increasing number of Padawan's these days Kylarn had been raised by the Jedi from a very young age but he was also a Sephi and that race, apart from having white or strikingly coloured skin (he was blue) and long pointed ears, were well known as gifted orators and diplomats.
It was no surprise then when he decided at the tender age of twenty (still then almost a child for his species) to take the Consular path and he had quickly become one of the more famous members of the notoriously even-tempered race.
He had spent almost the last two hundred years with that implacable calm as a shield against the random whims of the Galaxy.
He had eschewed any and all Council positions and instead had lent himself to the life of a scholar, studying the Force and all its history, until an occasional wanderlust would take hold of him.
Then he would travel the Galaxy, mostly on the Outer Rim, helping where he could and never staying long until that need to see and to explore was finally spent.
Going to Brentaal had not been one of those times instead, he had been whisked away from his studies by a request of the Council. That was not however why this mission was testing his patience and calm.
It began as most things do, with a small thing, a petty dispute between the Trading Houses of Keeto and Samen.
These two industrial giants were at each other's throats threatening a multitude of ills (from sanctions to murder) and each demanding that the vaunted Republic recognise the other as a lawbreaker and all-around scoundrel.
No one could say for certain now what had started the dispute, though of course, each blamed the other, and each loudly proclaimed their own personal innocence.
Ordinarily, this would not necessitate the sending of a Jedi, any Jedi, let alone a Jedi Master but given the threat to Brentaal's trade and its unique position in the Republic he was sent and very quickly.
The Republic could not afford for the sanctity and sovereignty of Brentaal trade to be threatened. Since the system was at the intersection of two major trade routes for the Republic and the Senator for the system had requested aid the Council had felt obliged to send both him and his padawan.
All this had led to the kind Jedi being a mediator to two squabbling trading houses and sitting on a cramped chair, with his elbows on a huge table, in the middle of a very large veranda on a neutral third parties voluptuous estate.
"Are you enjoying the Husk Estate Master?" came the voice of Varlya Tarvam his impetuous Echani padawan. Her smooth face may have been perfectly controlled but he could feel her mirth at his predicament through the Master-Padawan bond.
"I'd much prefer my books" he mock scowled at his ten-year-old padawan "As I am sure you are aware".
"Of course I am Master it's just so much fun to see you, Mr unrufflable ruffled for once" she responded.
"Appalling grammar aside I am glad I amuse you" came the arch reply.
"What were you researching Master that had you so absorbed? The intricate nature of Force Bonds? The Crystalline structure of the famous glass mountains?" He could tell from her facial expression that this was something that she would never want to do.
She was an Echani, he mused, and though they were sometimes great poets, diplomats and philosophers, battle stirred their blood in a very unique way. A way that libraries, dusty books and debate never would. She would make an excellent Guardian one day, he was sure, but he doubted she would ever gain the passion for research that he had developed.
Snapping out of his tangent he replied
"I was researching the history of the Old Sith wars and looking for evidence of undiscovered artefacts from that time period". he answered somewhat primly "I can't imagine why they would want us here rather than another team".
"So it wasn't you Master who solved the dispute among the Bespin gas miners? It also couldn't have been you who negotiated the 'minor' disagreement between the two Princes of Corellia's Royal house and stopped them from killing each other in a duel then?"
"They were good boys" he muttered defensively. "Just a tad high strung".
"My point Master... is that if you didn't want your research interrupted by diplomatic missions then you shouldn't have become so good at them, you are a victim of your own success".
"I suppose you are right my ever-wise padawan".
"Of course I'm right Master" she joked " I always am".
"Alright then my dear student". He responded while raising one eyebrow "How would you solve the problems in these negotiations?"
"Threaten them with my lightsaber" Varlya half queried and half hoped. His amused chuckle told the girl that, at the very least, she had lightened his mood.
Good, she thought, he was too stuffy anyway.
"And then" Kylarn began "we would have to come back in three months as they believed that they were safe from your wrath". He pointedly looked his small framed padawan up and down "Assuming it worked in the first place that is…"
He was about to continue when, from a distance, he began to see other people arriving. "It seems that our negotiations are about to begin again". His lips quirked and he winked "so try not to bash anyone over the head with your lightsaber please" his padawan only giggled in reply.
"Yes Master" she said when he arched an eyebrow.
"Ahh… the honourable Jedi!" spoke a new loud and falsely jovial voice "how are you?" It also belonged to the unofficial leader of the group.
"We are well Mister Husk" Kylarn responded.
"Please call me Rinsk" he interrupted insincerely.
But then, Kylarn thought before he could stop himself, everything about the man was insincere...he oozed falsehood.
"And Misters Keeto and Samen" the Jedi said, turning to them to cover his distaste, eying them critically "are you both well and ready to begin?"
Both men simply nodded with utmost gravitas, clearly also annoyed by Husks over enthusiastic and false greeting. To them, this was a business deal that had to be made, neither much liked the deal or each other but without a deal, there would be a trade war which meant deaths and (Force forbid) a monumental loss of profit.
So, he concluded in his mind, while there hadn't been any deaths (that he knew of) the threat was strong enough against their businesses that these two 'Captains of Industry' could lose everything.
With practised eyes, the researcher turned diplomat sized up his over gracious host Rinsk Husk. Here was another, more dangerous, player in the game that was Brentaals complex system of inbreeding, one-upmanship, fragile alliances and backstabbing that passed for their system of business and politics.
A part of the game, of course, was theatrics and it was at this that Rinsk Husk seemed to excel.
After all, Kylarn mused, I have negotiated almost every treaty imaginable but I have never negotiated in someone's back garden. Especially as said back garden is part of a palatial estate that was also, for the duration of the negotiations, open to the public.
"Is everyone happy with their seating arrangements?" Came the smooth voice of Husk and, when he received no response, he continued "Good. Now in the interests of fairness and transparency, the garden is to be open to the public to within 100 feet". He smiled brightly and falsely "What better way to show our good intentions for all to see?"
Husk, of course, didn't point out that the three armed guards that each man had brought with them hardly fostered unity. He was too much a politician for the truth to get in the way of his own narrative.
Kylarn saw his padawan roll her eyes and he could almost feel her snort down the bond that they shared.
Privately he agreed considering that all Husk wanted to do, as far as he could see, was promote and sell the idea of Husk. In this case, he was selling the idea of Husk man of the people with the added bonus being that both men (and their mercantile houses) who were part of the negotiations would be beholden to him for providing the neutral ground.
"So gentlemen" Kylarn began "I believe when we last left off we were discussing the land issue on your northern mountain range".
Keeto's face contorted in rage
"We cannot address that until we address Samens fraudulent claims on our Durasteel Consortium".
A lesser man would have sighed. So, he thought, the squabbles begin again.
-LAFA-
It had been hours, thought Varlya Tarvam, and Jedi or not I am not built for this. I may not have been raised one but I was born an Echani and battle sings in my blood.
All this talking seemed absolutely redundant to her and, as far as she was concerned, they should have just put up or shut up.
They should just go into the arena and spar until one submits with both their motives clear in battle, she thought, with all the wisdom of her ten years.
As a padawan, she did find it difficult to connect to the Force fully in her everyday life and she had never regretted that more than she did now.
She realised that her Master was only keeping his calm around the negotiation table by sinking lightly into the Force and allowing the Light Side to wash over him.
She couldn't do that yet, her control simply wasn't that good, she was either fully a part of the Force (and trying to let it guide her actions) or she wasn't. That didn't mean that she got nothing, twinges maybe or ripples of the Force sometimes, but she couldn't be fully in the Force yet without losing track of the moment.
Her Master was helping her with truly understanding how to do that as well as teaching her patience (apparently the two were related).
She stifled another sigh as she tried to ignore yet another petty squabble and focus instead on the Jedi code or at least the newer form that her Master prefered.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
She could use some of that peace right now, she thought, as she longed for the peace of the Jedi Temple and she wished she could hear the soft patter of the one thousand fountains but, instead, she was here.
These three people were supposed to be (between them) the majority of Brentaals answer to the giant conglomerate Industrial Automaton but instead, they were just squabbling amongst themselves and ruining her attempt at calm.
Suddenly, distracting her, there was the tiniest of whispered warnings in the Force but, before she could even reach for her lightsaber, she felt something pierce her neck having time only to gasp before her world exploded in pain and she collapsed.
Jedi Master Kylarn Sekel had just about hammered out an agreement, in principle, to solve all of the squabbling and allow the business of trading to restart without causing bloodshed.
Husk looked particularly pleased.
Master Sekel had also miraculously avoided a migraine or going with his padawans option of using his lightsaber to literally knock sense into them.
That was when he felt the warning from the Force slightly earlier than his padawan. He had time to hold up his oft hand and use his main hand to ignite his emerald blade with the characteristic snap-hiss of a lightsaber.
He grimaced even as he felt the first waves of agony coming from the Master-Padawan bond.
He could only watch in silent horror as the armed guards fell to hidden blasters in the walls. Master Sekel, if given a moment, would probably say that they were somewhat similar to a more lethal version of a training remote hidden in the walls.
He managed somehow to bat a few bolts away and Force Pushed the table on its side to form a barrier even as the three business leaders scrambled behind it, getting slightly injured as they went.
"Did you do this?" Asked Sekel in pain and moving slightly drunkenly from it.
"Hell no. I wouldn't be this crass" replied Husk scornfully even as both of the other men nodded gasping and bleeding.
Through the agony, Kylarn thought about moving to his padawan but the Niman form though useful wasn't exactly designed for this (at least unless truly mastered) and he had obviously never practised it while his padawan was incapacitated like this.
Someone had planned this, he knew it, but this couldn't be all it was. After all, eventually he would be able to get out of this and report everything to the Jedi Council and, through them, to the Republic Senate. He also assumed that this was something that whoever planned this could not allow.
In the distance he could hear the general public that was invited to watch the making of peace, courtesy of Husk, running away screaming in terror and it was in those sounds of terror that phase two of the plan began.
Six people in House Husk livery armed with vibroknives and blasters appeared in the midst of the fleeing crowd. They ran straight for them firing their weapons as they went.
The Jedi Master sank as deeply into the Force as his pained condition would allow still seeking some way, against the odds, to save his padawan and the people that he was charged to protect.
With a new warning from the Force helping him he managed to reflect two blaster bolts back at the hidden remotes in the wall damaging or destroying two leaving, by his count, three left.
He had no time to do more than block the remaining blaster bolts from his charges with his body as the six men drew closer.
As the men advanced he had to devote more and more energy to blocking their ever increasingly accurate shots. He had also taken four blaster hits in total, one to the shoulder, one glancing his wrist leaving a horrible burn, one to his leg and the last to his foot.
He was never more grateful, at that moment, for the fact that his padawan had gotten bored of the negotiations and had stepped outside for some 'fresh air' before this all began as it meant that she was out of the line of fire.
She was in a great deal of pain, that he could sense through their bond, but she was alive and not currently a target for these remotes and mercenaries at least.
Still, even though the blaster fire was increasing in frequency, even though he was injured and even though his padawan's agony was resonating through their bond like a blunt knife to the back of his skull, there was a reason that Jedi were feared by the underworld. That was also why he was still standing strong, for now.
He wanted to end this fight quickly but his favourite manoeuvre (the draw closer) couldn't be used because in his weakened state he would be unable to guarantee the safety of his charges.
He grimaced and reflected one last shot away before the six mercenaries were upon him and the others.
He managed to engage four of the six and with a smooth swipe he decapitated the first but he couldn't stop two slipping past. He didn't even have a spare moment to Force Push them out of the way.
Unfortunately, even a Jedi was not perfect and he was unable to help as his three charges were felled by the hungry vibroknives of the two mercenaries as they methodically went about their grisly work.
The sadness of death washed over him as he felt their life forces fade from his senses.
With new resolve then and no longer needing to concern himself with the safety of his charges he was able to act without restraint and find his ailing padawan.
The first mercenary he slashed deeply in the chest, the smell of the sizzling burn of his cauterizing lightsaber strong in his nostrils, before violently Force Pushing him into a nearby wall crushing the man's skull. He then proceeded to duck a wild slash from the second while manoeuvring himself behind the third to use the assailant as a human shield against the shots still coming from the globes half concealed in the east wall.
That was when things started to go even more wrong.
The blaster bolts from the wall almost tripled in speed coming so fast that it was all he could do to simply stand and block the blaster bolts coming at him so fast that they were almost a red line to the wearied Jedi. His lightsaber became a flashing web of green light.
Through all the pain from his wounds and his padawan's agony, he managed to deflect the blaster bolts that were coming thick and fast away from him. He managed at that moment to finally, somehow, truly connect with the Force completely.
His energy was running out though, with every draw on the Force being more difficult than the last.
Suddenly the west wall opened fire with another five of the hidden blasters which blared their lethal shots at him. The Jedi Master found himself in a deadly crossfire. He lacked the Force strength to lift the table against the blasts but, on the other hand, his enemies were defenceless compared to him.
Ironic, he thought, to be cut down by the very weapons that were meant to help you.
He decided that retreat was the better part of valour and so he moved, lightsaber in constant weary motion, towards his padawan and out of the line of fire.
He managed to destroy another droid with a deflected blaster bolt wishing that he had studied more practical Force Powers. What I wouldn't give right now, he thought, to be able to use the destroy droid power.
Finally, he was out of the line of fire and could think slightly more clearly even as his active connection to the Force slipped away due to his utter exhaustion. He then shut his lightsaber off and moved wearily, and almost drunkenly, towards Varlya Tarvam.
It was the last mistake he ever made as another dart struck him in almost the same place as it had his padawan.
This one, however, was not a combined pain and paralysis dart.
It was instead tipped with Basilisk venom. Instantly it began to eat into his flesh and attack him with a ferocity that he had no resistance to and no chance of stopping in his weakened state. His legs felt like water and his lightsaber fell from nerveless fingers.
With a soft cry Kylern Sekel, the famed diplomat and Jedi Master died.
Harry moved in from a distance carefully watching the downed Jedi Master thoroughly impressed.
He had honestly thought that he wouldn't have needed that much preparation or hardware but, in hindsight, he was glad that he had been extra cautious. Though now that he was closer to the Jedi Master the screams from his padawan were quite distracting.
"Stupefy" he whispered and a flash launched from his ring stunning the poor girl.
He then bent down and recovered the dart from her neck allowing a trickle of magic to pass from his fingertips to the dart itself cancelling a set of time delay runes.
The other minuscule runes on the dart lit up as they started to do their work already turning it to ash. The light wind that was blowing across his hand was already taking the remains of the dart away even as he looked down at the body of the Jedi Master.
He picked up Sekel's lightsaber and placed it on his belt.
"Depulso" and with that, the Jedi's body shot back into the three-sided veranda like a champagne cork shot from a bottle.
Even as that was happening Harry picked up the ten-year-old Padawan and put her on his shoulder heading for his ship, his job done, even as he casually threw an incendiary grenade over his shoulder setting the building alight.
-LAFA-
Sometime later Padawan Varlya Tarvam woke with a scream.
The first thing she felt was the echoes of indescribable pain, followed by a wave of inescapable loss and a feeling of deep sorrow that seemed to almost consume her. For a moment her groggy brain couldn't understand why.
Then, with one slow blink, it all came rushing back.
The boredom of the negotiations and then casually walking outside, the pinch in her neck followed by agony and then, at some point in that timeless hell, a sense of indescribable loss.
She knew what that meant.
Her Master was dead.
She felt tears form behind her eyes. For two years his comforting presence and soft voice had been a cornerstone of her existence.
Like most, but not all, Jedi she was raised by the Temple and therefore was a de facto orphan.
Though her Master had not exactly been a parent to her (he had simply been too oddly coloured for the white-haired and blue-eyed Echani for that analogy to work) he had been a permanent comforting and patient presence in her life, sort of like a favourite uncle, and she would miss that.
More than that though, she had been given by her family to the Jedi Order and yet he was the first person to specifically choose her and she remembered the feeling as he had done so, she had felt so special, so wanted and now he was dead and she wasn't.
All she wanted to do right now was go home to the Jedi Temple, the only home she knew, where things might make some sort of sense.
She sat up in the bed that she was laying on at the sound of metallic feet and suddenly felt a spike of fear.
At first glance, she was glad to note that the droid standing before her didn't seem to be a combat or torture droid but rather something that looked like a modified GE series droid.
"Greetings I am P-084D your pilot. My Master sent me to see if you needed anything" said the matte black droid.
"Where am I?" She asked in a small voice
"You are onboard the Homeward Bound, a Dynamic Class Freighter".
"4D where are we going and who is your Master?" she pressed.
"We are on route to Coruscant and my Master is Harry James Potter" came the simple reply.
"And who is Harry James Potter?" She said with a suspicious note in her voice, not that she knew anything about him one way or the other, but as she had been harshly reminded recently the Galaxy was not kind.
"That would be me" said a new strong but very human and masculine voice. "Thank you 4D you may go"
At first glance Harry Potter was old, in his early twenties she guessed, and he dressed simply and seemed to mean her no harm so she relaxed a little.
Plus he was kind of cute came the thought out of nowhere.
She banished that thought, highly embarrassed, to the back of her mind thankful for the training that stopped a mortified blush from staining her cheeks.
"Thank you, Master" responded the droid already heading back to the cockpit.
"You saved me?" she paused "Why?"
"You are a child" came the measured response, as if that fact alone, explained everything.
"I am a Jedi Padawan" came her indignant response
"Really?" Came the sarcastic response "The robes never would have given it away and I didn't know that childhood and Jedi business were mutually exclusive".
"Don't be so mean" was her slightly shrill response. Guilt flashed across his features for a split second and his face softened.
"I'm sorry. Honestly, I've found that I'm not the greatest people person and can only apologise for my grumpiness". He smiled winningly "It happens when you get old".
She wanted to smile and she nearly did but she had been through too much recently for it to actually happen. She did appreciate the effort though, she really did, even as he continued. "I have told the Jedi that we are on our way. You were asleep quite some time but we will be there soon".
"Thank you Sir" She whispered.
"Please, little one, just call me Harry" He rose and said "I have to go check that 4D hasn't destroyed my ship" and with that, he moved off but just as he reached the doorway she called out her reply.
"Thank you Harry" now she did smile, though in a strained fashion, because at least she was going home and was going to be in the Temple surrounded by other Jedi. It was something she longed for.
-LAFA-
Several weeks after reporting to the Jedi Council on her return Varlya was sitting on a bench by the Great Tree trying to come to terms with all that had happened to her on Brentaal.
The other Jedi were worried about her of course, that could be seen in every soft look or almost asked question. The problem was, of course, that any Jedi who had gone through what she had was much older and therefore found it hard to relate to her.
She, in turn, found it almost impossible to relate to her own peers (chosen by a Master or not) because although they could be sympathetic they couldn't understand, not really. Like all Jedi, she still had the comforting nature of the Light Side of the Force but for the first time, deep in her heart, she was wondering if that was really enough.
That orange world was a cesspit, she thought cynically, idly watching the Great Tree sway gently in the breeze.
Yes sometimes it still haunted her dreams, she thought with a hint of fear, turning them into bloodsoaked nightmares...The number of times she had thought of how her former Master must have died…
"Hello there padawan" She was startled by the voice of the newcomer and she turned to glance at the two men that had managed to approach her while she was lost in her dark thoughts.
The first (and the one who spoke) had a mouth that always seemed to smile, bright blue eyes that reflected a seemly constant joy in everything that he did.
This was Knight Lanham.
The Lanham family where a group of humans that had consistently produced Jedi very strong in the Force for as long as anyone could remember, some said as long as there had been a Republic.
With the fact that the family was not only exceptionally large (no one had ever really done a complete tally) but spread over most of the Core Worlds it seemed that the tradition would not be ending anytime soon.
He was also her new Master.
"I understand that you have been having difficulty with what happened" and he held up his palm before she could speak. "I also know that you need to talk to someone and, as we haven't had time yet to truly understand one another, that is why my friend is here".
At that, she flushed realising belatedly that she had ignored the person who stood next to her new Master.
"Harry" she said softly and she jumped up and ran into him, only to then hug him to within an inch of his life.
Neither Jedi noticed the flash of pain mingled with guilt that flashed in his eyes as, one moment it was there and the next it had disappeared, buried behind an iron wall of purpose.
In the past few weeks, since she had met him, he had been a quiet and unobtrusive, but constant, presence on their journey to Coruscant.
He had left her alone when she needed it, made her laugh when he could, told her stories of his travels and when she had started having the nightmares about her former Master he had simply held her as she cried making soft comforting noises as he did so. "What are you doing here?"
She hadn't seen him in person since the day he dropped her off at the Temple. It wasn't that he didn't care (he'd sent her transmissions often) but he was head of Potter Industries and she was a Jedi Padawan sworn to both guard against the Sith and uphold the Republic. A Republic that he wasn't even technically part of.
They lived very different lives.
"I'm just dropping off a new experimental fencing droid for your brethren to try". He paused and then cheekily added "Maybe this will get them to like me eh?"
His smile took the sting out of his words but, she reflected, it was true as though both she and Knight Lanham had warmed to him the Council had not done so.
Maybe it was the fact that he was the head of a powerful company at his very young age, maybe that it was that he was Force-sensitive and not a Jedi, maybe it was the general distrust of Bounty Hunters (a quick background check had shown that he once was one and, though not officially active, his license was current and he was in good standing with the Guild), maybe it was that as a member of a non-Republic world and company they had less say in what he could or could not do.
Perhaps it was even simpler that though they might be thinking that she was getting too attached to the green-eyed businessman.
They are probably right in that at least but, she ruefully thought, at this moment in time I just don't care.
"If handing over the Lightsabers that you managed to acquire from the Dantooine enclave to the Head Librarian didn't do it I don't know what will". The Librarian had been ecstatic to get the lightsabers of such famous Jedi but was still frosty to the non-Jedi outsider.
"I hear you have been having trouble adjusting since what happened on Brentaal".
She blanched and looked wildly around for her new Master, thankfully, he had silently withdrawn while she had been absorbed in greeting Harry. "Do you want to talk about it?" She shook her head firmly and with all the finality that a ten-year-old could muster.
He sighed and continued "Did you know that I was an orphan?".
"No" she said.
"Well let me tell you…" He began.
Over the next three hours Harry told her a heavily edited version of the first ten years of his life and soon, without realising it and before she really understood what was happening, she began to talk.
It was slow at first but eventually, all her fears and anxieties came pouring out and she finally started down the long road of putting them to rest with the help of her new friend.
Later that evening Harry admitted to himself that he felt like absolute shit.
On the one hand, he had enjoyed the friendship that he was building with Varlya and the sense of kinship that he felt with her could not be denied.
If he truly was just Harry Potter of Potter Industries a philanthropist (and all round good guy) that would have been fantastic and despite the Jedi Council's concern he would have done everything he could to help his friend.
He wasn't though and that was why he felt like shit.
He was also the man that had, if not cruelly, coldly orchestrated the death of her friend and first Jedi Master. He was the man who had put her in danger for his own ends and every time she thanked him for saving her it was like a dagger in the heart. Every moment of calm companionship, every second of friendship was built on a lie.
Despite all his feelings, all his mixed emotions, it still led him to stand a few meters away from the Processional Way waiting for a small cockroach shaped droid.
He wasn't the nice guy in this scenario, he knew, as everything he did in the last few weeks had at least two purposes.
Its funny, he thought, how the choices you make change who you become.
Inside the training droid prototype (made of Phrik enriched plastic) was a hidden compartment for his roach droid. He had insisted that he pass the artefacts that he had brought from Dantooine over to the Head Librarian in person.
What people sometimes forgot about the Jedi Temple was that it was not just a place where Jedi lived and meditated on the nature of the Force it was also a museum. They regularly allowed tours in to see the perfectly preserved artefacts and relics of both the Republic's and the Jedi's history (though of course not functioning weapons or Holocrons).
While all eyes (and many different senses) were focused on him he had done nothing suspicious instead seemly losing himself in the tranquillity, beautiful artwork and architecture that was the Jedi Temple.
His training droid, however, was a different story.
Once it found a camera blindspot a series of algorithms had come together to make it release it's cockroach-like passenger, wipe its memory of both the algorithms themselves, the last thirty seconds and continue on to the sparring rooms.
This was who Harry Potter had become.
He was many things and much removed from the boy he once was and he had no illusions about that. The one single thing that would never change about him, he firmly resolved, was that he would always be the man who would survive and do anything to find his way home.
His cockroach droid appeared out of the darkness chirping its success. Harry smiled as it had the sample.
He walked back to his waiting shuttle with the cockroach droid firmly in tow.
He now had a perfectly preserved sample of Revan's D.N.A. taken before his fall.
In the Works, less than thirty minutes later, he was standing (though of course masked) face to face with his new client.
"Your job was completed. The Republic believes Husk tried to kill two of his rivals while all three trading houses blame each other for the inevitable sanctions that will result due to the death of the Jedi Master. Industrial Automaton prospers and will continue to do so". His voice turned cold "Our business is concluded".
"On the contrary" disagreed the cloaked figure in front of him "I believe that our business has just begun".
The man threw back his hood revealing a somewhat average face. It was the kind that could have been from just about anywhere from Coruscant to Bespin or Corellia to Brentaal. Dark brown eyes greeted his gaze along with a weak chin and a cruel mouth. "My name is Siverere Mannesh and I know how to help you get what you want".
"Oh yeah" came the glib response "What do I want?"
"Power" came the swift response "for what purpose I do not, at this moment, care. I know the Jedi would not train you and I know there are ways to augment even your meagre power to heights that they would not even dare dream of".
His face may have been non-descript but his voice had an odd hypnotic edge. "If you become my acolyte you can have all of that and, in the fullness of time, more".
"Really" Harry said, suspicion evident in his tone "and what do you get out of it?"
"Immediately? A servant who can travel where I can not and do things that I can not risk doing myself. In the long term, I will find out if you're worthy of being my Apprentice".
Harry did not like the tone of this conversation and so he asked
"What if I refuse?" In response a ruby red lightsaber flashed into existence in Mannesh's hand.
"You die now". He smiled cruelly "Make your choice. Power or death?".
"Alright Mannesh you have a deal" Harry responded after a moment. Training, after all, was training.
"My true name is Darth Corrious Dark Lord of the Sith. It is a title that you might one day have if you prove yourself worthy".
"Where do we start" Harry asked and then after a pause added "Master?"
"With the code" came the curt response "Repeat after me...Peace is a lie".
For the next four and a half years Harry Potter would learn the ways of the Sith from Darth Corrious and be his servant doing his will while his Master primarily stayed on Ossyk the first moon of Brentaal.