Chapter Eleven: Welcome to Hogwarts

Star Wars + Harry Potter Crossover

A/N: Chap 10 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

Chapter Eleven: Welcome to Hogwarts

- Kyle Katarn CAN handle the truth.

Harry did not like the Floo; Kyle liked it even less.

They emerged from the fireplace into a large, clean but archaic-looking pub that was doing good business. The customers looked at Kyle with mild interest but when Harry appeared behind him, things changed. One older wizard stood up as if he was poked by a pin and shouted, "Blimey, is that Harry Potter?"

The exclamation brought every head in the room up, and in seconds forty patrons started rushing forward, only to be shoved back by a Force-push from Kyle. "Sit down and go about your business," Kyle said dangerously, "and let us be about ours."

Harry could imagine what the witches and wizards in the room might have thought. Kyle felt dangerous. It wasn't just his grizzled, unsmiling countenance. He held himself in a way that promised overwhelming violence with little warning—it was in the way he held his shoulders and positioned his feet. He could kick a person's head at any time because he always maintained his balance.

The witches and wizards in the room sensed the potential violence in the old Jedi and very quietly went back to their business though they continued watching Harry intently. "That was strange," Harry whispered. "How could they possibly know what I look like?"

"Come on, there's supposed to be transport waiting for us."

The two walked out of the pub and into a cobble-stoned street surrounded by impossibly quaint buildings that looked as if they were taken out of a demented child's fairytale book. In front of the pub they found not a car, but a rickety wooden carriage pulled by a strange black beast with an equestrian body but webbed, reptilian wings. "What is that?" Harry blurted.

"That is a thestral, Mr. Potter," a prim, proper voice said from their right. Harry turned to see an older woman walking up the sidewalk toward them. She wore a dark blue witch's robe with a black hat topped by a cone. "Mr. Katarn, I presume? I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. I will escort you to the castle. If you will?"

Harry hopped into the carriage easily, and behind him came Kyle. Not surprisingly, Kyle turned and offered a hand to McGonagall, who accepted with a quirk of her lips. "Thank you."

The moment the three were seated in the carriage the thestral began walking on its own, moving them at a surprisingly brisk pace through the forest path. Though the carriage looked ancient and frail, the ride itself was so smooth Harry suspected magic.

"So, to the daily matters," McGonagall said. "I have taken the liberty of preparing rooms for you near the Gryffindor Tower. The suite has two rooms and a shared bath and loo, if that is acceptable."

"That will be fine, thank you," Kyle said.

"All meals are taken in the great hall," McGonagall continued. "Breakfast is served from 6 a.m. until 9 a.m. on weekdays, and until 10 a.m. on weekends. Lunch is served from 11:30 am to 1 p.m., and dinner begins promptly at 6 p.m. If you get lost, please ask the portraits and they will direct you. Will Mr. Potter wish to attend any classes while he is in the castle?"

Kyle looked at Harry, who nodded. "Yes, actually, if I could," Harry said quickly. "In my textbook, it said you were the transfiguration professor, is that still true?"

"Yes, that's true. I have taught transfiguration for some fifty years now."

Harry nodded, suitably impressed by that span of time. "What is it about the words of spells that force my…magic to express itself?"

McGonagall stared at him a moment before her lips quirked again. He doubted from the lines of her face that she smiled very often. "An interesting and rather perceptive question, Mr. Potter. In truth, the words are the verbal equivalent of the arithmantic description of what the spell actually does. Magic is an expression not just of intent, but also of a specialized and rather difficult branch of mathematics we refer to as arithmancy which frames that intent into the desired results."

Kyle cleared his throat. "Arithmancy, at least as it translates to my understanding, refers to a means of determining the future."

"That was how it was used originally, to be sure," McGonagall allowed. "But over the centuries certain scholars realized that what our ancestors discovered by accident was the mathematical description of magic itself. Centuries ago, magic could affect elements and do other basic things, but only the greatest masters could perform transfiguration, or cast charms. With the creation of spells using arithmancy, and the advent of wands, almost all witches and wizards were able to do what previously only the most powerful masters could do. That was the greatest gift the Founders of Hogwarts gave to us—the first true lexicon of crafted spells and wands. It is what made Hogwarts the premier school of magic in the whole world."

"So the words…do what?" Harry asked.

"They act as a mold, if you will, which shapes your magic and intent to produce the desired result. Over time, you will learn to cast spells silently, but even with silent casting you are still using those same spells, only thinking them instead of speaking them aloud. The magic follows pathways the words themselves have created within your mind and magic."

"Amazing," Harry said. He settled into a contemplative silence while McGonagall peered intently at the two Jedi, curiosity plain on her face.

Finally, unable to help herself, she said, "I must say, Mr. Potter, that you are the spitting image of your father, except for your eyes. Those are most definitely from your mother."

"You knew them?" Harry should not have been surprised, but the question obviously made the witch happy.

"Oh yes, you see they were both Gryffindors, of which I am head of house. I remember clearly leading them in with the other first years, and I remember equally the day they finished school, already engaged to be married. Although, to be honest I thought they would end up hexing each other to death before they married. But as they matured and grew into the people they were destined to be…" She paused and smiled wistfully. "I was very fond of them, Mr. Potter. Their loss was a tragedy, and your disappearance caused a great deal of anguish as well."

Kyle looked intently at the old witch. "Were you aware his relatives were abusive?"

McGonagall blanched. "I knew they were not good people, but I did not know to what extent."

The old Jedi gave a single nod. "Nor did you check, because a man you trusted told you he was safe and cared for. He was not, and so I took him as my apprentice. Remember that, Professor, as the man you trust continues to demand that you accept things based solely on your faith in him."

Whatever good feelings McGonagall had speaking of Harry's parents withered and died before Kyle Katarn's firm gaze. Harry knew from experience that his master did not comfort people so much as make them face hard truths. Those that did so were usually better for it; those that did not were left bitter and hateful from their meeting with Kyle. It went without saying that Kyle left a trail of enemies behind wherever he went.

Eventually they cleared the trees, and ahead of them rose the castle. Harry couldn't help but stare, not because it was so impressive, but because it was so impossible. Stone structures should not have been able to rise as high or precariously as they did from the castle—it looked like an illustration from a children's novel.

For all that, it was a beautiful structure rising up on granite cliffs at the edge of a huge, deep lake that glimmered under the moonlight. He saw a small, archaic sailing ship docked at the short of the lake, but otherwise there did not appear to be any boat traffic.

"So what has Dumbledore said about Harry's name coming out of this goblet?" Kyle asked as they drew closer to a bridge spanning a wide, deep crevice that ran down to the lake.

"Nothing, directly," McGonagall said, omitting the warmth of her previous reminiscence in her voice for a sharp, professional diction. "I know he spoke at length with the other schools and the Ministry officials, but he has said nothing public about it."

"I see." Kyle didn't frown but Harry could tell from the set of his master's shoulders that he was unhappy about that. Finally, they reached the bridge and began riding toward the front entrance, through a coble-stoned driveway lined with columns, and a fountain in the middle.

"I'm afraid we will be making something of an entrance," McGonagall warned, sensing perhaps that Kyle did not tolerate unwelcome surprises well. "The other schools did so, and so it is rather expected."

Kyle said nothing. The carriage came to a halt and the three of them climbed down with McGonagall leading the way. The inside of the castle was exactly what Harry expected from the outside—high, vaulted ceilings, suits of armor from a pre-industrial age and hundreds, even thousands of portraits that lined the walls, moving about and talking.

McGonagall moved past the curious painted figures without comment until they reached a pair of large, steel-reinforced wooden doors. Before opening the doors, McGonagall turned to the two and said, "I understand that your presence here was…not voluntary. Nor do I begrudge any anger you may have regarding it. But please know that if you need anything, all you need do is ask. If for no other reason than the memory of two of my favorite students, I will help you in any way I can."

Sensing her earnestness, Harry bowed his head and said, "Thank you."

With that, she turned, lifted her wand to the doors, and they swung open silently. Beyond them Harry saw a brilliantly illuminated hall with four long lines of tables running the length of it, with a fifth table at the far end spanning the hall's width. Floating chandeliers cast light across the space, while overhead stars glimmered with an enchantment of the sky.

"It is remarkable," Harry admitted.

Kyle grunted.

"And finally, I am pleased to announce, representing the Jedi Praxeum, Harry Potter!" Dumbledore said from the front table. His voice reverberated through the room with magic, despite speaking in a normal tone.

Instantly every eye in the hall locked onto the two. Kyle ignored them as he continued walking down the hall after McGonagall; Harry followed a step behind. "Mr. Potter, we have reserved space for you at the Gryffindor table for the remainder of your stay," McGonagall said. "Mr. Katarn, as an instructor you are welcome to join us at the faculty table."

"Thank you," Kyle said. "Harry, please have a seat. I'm going to make a statement."

Harry had a sudden vision of Kyle kicking Dumbledore in the head, but did as he was told without laughing. He smiled faintly to the students at the table as he took a seat at the far end, nearest the staff table.

"Mr. Katarn, I'm so happy you could make it," Dumbledore said. "We have a seat ready for you here."

"Thank you," Kyle said curtly. "I'll be seated in a moment." Ignoring the momentary look of confusion on the old wizard's face, Kyle turned to face the hall and his magically un-aided voice bellowed out across the hall. "My name is Kyle Katarn. I and my apprentice are here because someone used magic to force my apprentice's name into the goblet, and then magic to force his name to be selected as the fourth champion. We are here under duress and under protest, and with a great deal of contempt for any authorities that would allow such an injustice to occur."

Harry stilled his features as, behind Kyle, Dumbledore and a few other wizards at the head table looked furious.

"Harry will compete because to not do so would cause him harm, and that is the only reason he will take part in this contest. I do not wish any of you ill, but understand that we do not wish to be here; we did not choose to be here. And when I find the one responsible for Harry's selection from the Goblet, I will ensure that justice is done regardless of what your law may require."

With that, Kyle walked around to the seat previously offered by Dumbledore and sat down without any further words. The whispering started before he even seated himself. Harry, intensely aware of the stares of the students around him, instead concentrated on the different food stuffs around him.

"Could you pass the rolls, please?" he asked a girl who was probably a First Year.

She nodded with wide eyes and passed a bowl of rolls. Harry took the opportunity to examine his table—it appeared the youngest students sat near the head table, while the oldest sat further down. A moment later, she turned and giggled to her friend.

"Excuse me, are you really Harry Potter?" a boy asked beside him.

"Yes."

"Where've you been?" the boy asked. "Papers said you should have been here."

"I went to a different school," Harry said, which was close enough. They left for the Jedi Praxeum when he was ten. "I learned a different type of magic."

"I read books about you," the boy continued. "They said you saved a princess and fought a whole army of vampires and have had all sorts of adventures."

"Er, I don't think that book's true," Harry said. "Sorry."

"Too bad, it'd be neat if you could fly 'n stuff," the boy said, right before stuffing an entire roll into his mouth. Seeing that was the end of any further conversation, Harry fought down his own unsettled stomach and forced himself to eat. At the head table, Harry saw Kyle talking to a grim-faced man with a sharp beard and deep red robes lined in animal fur.

Dumbledore looked on with a blank face, but his anger was easily seen in his stiff posture.

Eventually, the meal ended. Kyle stepped down immediately from the staff table and walked to Harry. McGonagall scrambled to follow in order to guide them to their suite. Harry nodded to the kids around him before joining his master, and the three of them left the hall in the same way they entered—stared at by every person there.

Finally they made their way to the hall that held the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I hope you'll be comfortable," McGonagall said. "My office is on the other side of the dormitory portrait, please come by any time." Much of the warmth she held when she picked them up was missing.

"Thank you," Kyle said simply. Once she was gone, he led the way into the rooms, which were rustic but spacious. The rooms featured a bed in each, a shared fireplace that warmed both rooms from the center of the separating wall, with a wardrobe and a shared fresher.

Kyle held a finger to his lips, and Harry nodded agreement. It was almost certain their room was being monitored. A short search found small portraits hung around the room—the painted figures sat still, but Harry for his part had no doubt they could hear everything said.

Together they gathered all the portraits together and dumped them in the hall without further comment. "Be mindful of your words," Kyle said when they were relatively assured of privacy. "It is not necessary for the students to know where you have been."

"I told them I have been attending a different school."

"Good, we'll go with that. When you have opportunity, explore the castle."

"Find all entrance and exit points, all defensible positions, and all possible avenues of retreat or evacuation," Harry said, quoting by rote.

"Exactly. Also look for a place where we can train in private."

"Yes, Kyle. And you?"

"I'm going to be looking for Dumbledore's scapegoat—the one who actually entered you into that Goblet. Watch yourself and be careful of your surroundings."

"Yes, Kyle."

"Now, meditation and sleep. It's going to be an interesting day tomorrow."

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

The next morning, Harry and Kyle did their meditations and calisthenics before they took turns showering. When both were ready, they made their way down to the Great Hall. Around them, other students were doing the same, and looking at them with open curiosity.

"I'm going to leave you for the day," Kyle said as they approached the hall. "McGonagall should be giving you a schedule of classes. Feel free to audit any you are interested in."

"And you, Kyle?"

"I'll be out and about," Katarn said. He sighed, and added, "Of the two of us, I'm not sure who is in the greater danger. Your enemies want you, but those who should be allies want you as well, and see me as an obstacle. Be mindful of your surroundings."

"I will, Kyle."

They parted ways just inside the door; Kyle walked stiffly to the staff table, decidedly out of place in rugged polycotton trousers and a tan-colored, long-sleeved shirt. His lightsaber hung at his belt. He settled down beside a giant of a man with a thick beard and began to gather food onto his plate.

Harry looked for and found a place at the table near a clump of students closer to his own age. He nodded politely to them and began to gather his own breakfast. He didn't hold back—breakfast was actually his largest meal of the day. The other students whispered among themselves until one of the bravest said, "So, you're Harry Potter, eh?"

"I am."

"Name's Seamus Finnegan. This here's Dean Thomas. And that's Neville. We're all fourth years. Figure you would'a been our dormmate if you'd come and all."

"Hello," Harry said politely.

"So, where were you?" Seamus continued. "You sound strange. Where you across the pond, then?"

"I was at the Jedi Praxeum on Ossus," Harry said honestly enough.

"Osses? Is that in Canada?" Neville asked.

"'Course it is," Seamus said. "Don't you know anything?"

And so, with that, it became known that Harry was in Canada. Harry looked around the table while he ate; looking for the red heads he thought should have been there. Finally, he asked, "Isn't there another boy who I would have been dorm mates with?"

"You mean Ron?" Neville asked in surprise.

Seamus, though, shook his head. "Nah, couple o' years ago his baby sister died. Real tragic it was. He got pulled out o' Hogwarts. He and his brothers. They all go to a day school in Wales, last I heard."

Though Harry kept his face blank, the news somehow deeply disturbed him. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Professor McGonagall swept in, looking sternly at the three boys. "Mr. Potter, here is a schedule of all classes. I understand from Master Katarn that you will be auditing only. However, those classes I marked are considered core classes, and I would suggest that you audit those first and most frequently."

"Of course, Professor, thank you," Harry said with a polite nod.

"Also, if you are interested in previous years' notes, there are a few students who might be able to assist you. Miss Daphne Greengrass in Slytherin, Ms. Padma Patil in Ravenclaw, and our own Hermione Granger in Gryffindor all regularly place at the top of their classes and will occasionally provide tutoring in the library for fourth years and below."

"That's good to know, thank you."

Across the table, Seamus was whispering to Dean Thomas, "Yep, definitely Canadian. Too polite by half."

Harry declined to comment. He chose to audit McGonagall's own transfiguration class first, sitting in the back only because he was not an actual student. She was discussing changing an inanimate object into an animal, and back again, as if it were just the most ordinary thing in the world.

It became clear who the two leaders of the class were. One girl in green and silver robes with immaculate blonde hair and make-up seemed to be running a competition with a bushy-haired girl in the red and gold robes of Gryffindor, each trying to outdo the other in getting their hands up first, and both were correct whenever McGonagall called on them.

The rest of the class simply watched the on-going battle with veiled disinterest until the practical portion of the class began. McGonagall handed out the goblets not by hand, but with a flick of her wand, sending the metal cups flying around the room until they all landed perfectly in front of each student, including Harry.

Though he had not intended to actually try and "magic" Harry was curious. He watched the others struggle, sensing each student's magic through the Force struggle to assume the shape of the spell. What he sensed seemed to be a conflict between the student's intent and the intent of the spell itself.

The exceptions were, of course, Granger and Greengrass, who each successfully turned their cups into large rats. Harry was pleased to note that the rats did not contain any actual life energy, but were just a lifeless simulacrum of the true animals.

Assured that he would not hurt anything, Harry removed his wand, followed McGonagall's instructions and wand movements, and pronounced the spell. His magic moved through his body much like the Force did, only it move from within him rather than from without, and as it passed through his hand and wand, he felt the words shaping it into the desired form, until the cup shimmered and changed into a large rat.

"Oh, well done, Mr. Potter!" McGonagall said. "On your first try, no less. Ladies, you may have some competition this year."

Naturally the whole class turned to stare. Harry cancelled the spell and smiled to hide his dislike at the attention. Greengrass glared at him before turning to say something to one of her classmates, while Granger glanced at him but only briefly.

Granger for the notes, then, he decided.

The rest of the classes were similar in how casual the professors were about the miracles they performed. The one exception was potions, taught by a sallow-faced man with greasy black hair and a long, hooked nose. He glared at Harry when he stepped into the dungeon.

"Ahh, our resident celebrity. Is there a reason you are here, Mr. Potter?"

Harry, taken aback by the hostility radiating from the man, said, "I was advised by Professor McGonagall to audit the core classes first and foremost, Professor."

"Ahh, that is well and good, Potter," he said, spitting the 'P' in Harry's name. "However, this class is for Hogwarts students only. So, unless you plan to enroll, be so kind as to leave."

Knowing a useless cause when he saw one, Harry nodded curtly. "Of course, Professor. My apologies for disturbing your class."

Harry was about to turn and leave when Kyle Katarn walked in the room, evidently back from his trip. "Have a seat, Harry," he said without breaking stride.

"Yes, Kyle," Harry said, sinking into a stool at the back of the class.

"How dare you!" Snape said, eyes wide. "You do not walk into my class room and disregard my instructions!"

"We're going to have a brief talk, Severus," Kyle said firmly. "It can be here, in front of your students, or it can be out in the hallway. I'm good either way."

Harry could see the potions master thinking furiously. Eventually, he decided outside was better and virtually stomped out into the hall. When the two men were outside, Harry closed his eyes, bowed his head, and hoped for the best.

"What's that about?"

Harry looked up into the brown eyes of Granger, who was partnered with a flustered Neville Longbottom. "I hope they're just… no, never mind."

The whole class turned at the sound of raised voices, followed by a thud against the door. Whatever discussion was occurring out there quieted back down. Moments later, the door opened and Snape entered alone, but the right side of his temple was already beginning to bruise.

Harry sighed but said nothing as Snape stumbled a little upon reaching his desk. He turned around, murder in his eyes, and snarled, "The potion is on the board! Get started, now!"

sp

You knew it was coming.

And that said, Rest in Peace, Alan Rickman. A delightful man who, like Vincent Price, excelled at playing villains with panache while in life being a genuinely kind and loving person. He'll be sorely missed.