Chapter Twelve: The Real Thing, and the Fake

Star Wars + Harry Potter Crossover

A/N: Chap 11 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading!

Chapter Twelve: The Real Thing, and the Fake

If it looks like chicken, tastes like chicken, and smells like chicken, but Kyle Katarn says its beef, then it's frickin' beef.

That night, after dinner, Harry made his way to the library. Upon reaching it, he found small pockets of students spread in an uneven pattern around the reading tables which sat like islands in a sea of books.

On one island in that sea sat Hermione Granger with two younger children, likely second years. She was smiling as she talked to them, showing them both things in their books. One began nodding with understanding while the other began to write furiously.

Yes, he thought to himself, Granger was definitely the right pick. He gathered his courage with a sigh to release his tension, and walked to the table. Both the younger students looked up with wide eyes but Granger kept her face neutral. "Good evening," he said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Professor McGonagall indicated you might be able to help me."

"Of course," she said primly. "What can I do for you?"

"My previous school work was…well, nothing like what you learn here. I'm having to start from scratch, and I was hoping to borrow your notes from your previous years."

"Well, I suppose I could lend you my notes," she said. "But really, shouldn't you be concentrating on the first task? It's only three weeks away, now."

"In time, I suppose," Harry said. "For now, I'd like to learn a little bit more about magic as it's practiced here."

Nodding dismissal to the two younger children, Hermione reached into her satchel, and continued to reach in far beyond the dimensions of the bag itself, until she was buried almost to her shoulders in it. "Aha!" She pulled her arms back out clutching three huge clasp binders filled with easily six to seven hundred sheets of white paper each. She placed them on the desk with a loud thud that made the librarian look up with a stern expression from across the sea of reading space.

"There you go."

Harry stared, nonplussed. "You carry all your previous years' notes with you in your bag?"

"I carry everything with me, at least now," Hermione said. "I was pranked quite a bit during my first and second year, so third year my parents helped me buy this charmed bag that allows me to carry around everything I hold important. I mean, not my clothes or toiletries, but everything of actual value."

"I'm sorry to hear about your pranking. Is it better now?"

"Yes," she said, though he detected a hint of sadness in her voice. "Those responsible for most of the pranking are no longer at Hogwarts."

Harry stared a moment before he remembered Kyle's advice. "You mean Ron Weasley?"

"How'd you even know that name?"

"I read about his sister."

Hermione sighed; her eyes took on a distant, melancholy light. "Ginny was only one of the lot who wasn't a complete wretch. My parents almost pulled me out of school after that, but I convinced them to let me stay, and I'm glad I did. Last year was much better, and this year has proven to be interesting so far as well. If you decide to actually start preparing for your first task and require help, please let me know."

"Thank you," Harry said, genuinely surprised at the generous offer. "And thank you very much for your notes. I'll return them as soon as I can."

Hermione waved them away and began to pack away her other things that were spread out over the table. "So, I've heard that you were in Canada."

"I've heard those rumors too," Harry said with his best imitation of Kol's charming smile.

"Funny, but you don't sound Canadian. In fact, you sound almost like an American faking a BBC accent. But that's not right either." She sighed. "Anyway, there is no such place as Ossus, not in Canada nor anywhere else in the English-speaking world. So, either you're lying, or you're very carefully omitting the truth."

"You're very sure of yourself," Harry said.

"And you're not denying it," Hermione smiled back. "Good night, Mr. Potter."

~~Katarn~~

"Have you audited Defense Against the Dark Arts," Kyle asked that night after their evening meditations.

"No, Kyle."

"You'll find it interesting. Either I was hasty in my estimation of Snape, or the castle has been infiltrated multiple times."

~~Katarn~~

Harry was three bites into his breakfast when Hermione Granger sat down opposite him. "So, your Master Kyle kicked Professor Snape in the head? Really? What kind of grown man does something so brutish?"

Harry looked around and saw the eyes of several Gryffindors on him. He lowered his fork of eggs and said, "A retired, warrior-monk general?" Harry said, framing it as a question of his own.

"Warrior-monk?"

"Well, something like that. I suppose I can't call him a monk since the Jedi Order no longer forbids marriage, and the man goes through…well, anyway, he has had a very martial life and has a low tolerance for foolishness."

"Does he ever kick you like that?"

Harry chuckled. "Never. Well, except in sparring practice, and then it's expected that I try to kick back. But then again, I'm not foolish enough to try arguing with him, either. Kyle is rarely wrong. He may not always be right, but he's rarely wrong."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It means, Miss Granger, that sometimes there is no clear right or wrong answer," Kyle said as he walked up behind her.

She jumped in her seat and turned to stare. "Are you going to kick me?"

"I try not to kick anyone before I've had my coffee," Kyle said with a perfectly straight face. "Harry, I'm going to be leaving the castle again today. I may not be back until late."

"Yes, Kyle."

With that, the old Jedi strode out of the hall. Harry looked back and saw Hermione watching him intently. "How old is he?" she asked.

"About ten years younger than Dumbledore," Harry said.

Hermione turned and stared. "Really? Wow, he aged better than the headmaster."

"He trims his beard. It makes all the difference."

For the first time, he heard Hermione giggle, though she quickly swallowed the sound. "Yes, well, that's still no excuse for violence. I trust you don't go around kicking people in the head."

"If I did that, then Kyle really would kick me! You have Defense Against the Dark Arts first this morning, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "It's a core subject, are you going to audit it?"

Harry nodded. "When we're done eating, I'll walk with you, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

He noticed a hint of color in her cheeks as he resumed eating, but did not speak of it. After they ate, the two of them walked through the halls of the castle together toward the class in question. Fortunately, the stares had become less overt. It disturbed him, though, to see just how many girls were staring at him.

Or that Hermione noticed how the looks bothered him. "Ignore them. You're just a mysterious hero, so they really can't help but stare."

Harry remembered his conversation with the first years his first night in the castle. "I see. You're not staring, though."

"I'm curious, but it's rude to stare," Hermione said. "And I've actually had a chance to talk to you. Granted, it's not eased the mystery at all, but it's more than many have had."

Harry shrugged and followed her into the classroom. Ordinarily, he sat in the back of the room so as not to take away space from actual students, but having walked so far with her, he decided to follow her the rest of the way and sat down with her. As he did so, he noticed that Daphne Greengrass was already there with a few other Slytherin students and was openly glaring not at him, but at Hermione.

"I gather you don't like each other?"

"She wasn't expecting to have to actually compete with a mere mudblood," Hermione said, not needing him to specify who he spoke of.

Before Harry could question just what that meant, a horrifically scarred man with a wooden stump for a leg and an artificial blue eye came stomp-clomping into the room. "Books out!" he shouted. "Today is theory day!"

The man spun around, and Harry fought back a wave of nausea as he sensed the man's twisted, almost black Force presence. In all his life, even facing a Sith, he'd never sensed anything so profoundly lacking in the light as he did facing this man.

Suddenly he understood his master's words. This man, facing him in the guise of a school teacher, had to be the pawn Dumbledore used to confound the Goblet of fire. He wondered briefly if Kyle meant him to expose now, or wait?

"Potter!"

Harry blinked his eyes and forced himself out of his reverie to see that man staring right at him. "Yes, Professor?"

"Did that teacher of yours tell you what the three Unforgiveables are?"

Kyle had not, but Harry, having read several back issues of the Daily Prophet the evening before he and Kyle came to Hogwarts, knew what they were. "The Cruciatus, Imperius, and the killing curse."

"That's right!" the man barked. "That's right. I wanted to show all of you just what they were. You have to be prepared. CONSTANT VIGILANCE! But Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow it, so all I can do is talk about them, and other dark curses."

The man began describing the effects first of the three unforgiveable curses, and then a handful of other dark curses until the toll of the clock tower announced class was over. As they students stood to leave, Professor Moody barked, "Potter, a word!"

"I'll see you later," Hermione said. Harry lingered behind, trying to keep his hands off the hilt of the lightsaber he wore at his belt. Given the fact he was not a student, he wore his normal padawan tunic and slacks.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Tell me, boy, have you begun preparing for the task?"

"I've not had opportunity. This is only my second day here, if you'll remember."

"Yes, yes," Moody said dismissively. "But you need to start preparing, boy. The tasks in the tournament are lethal. I know that Dumbledore's tried to make things as safe as he can, but people still die during these things. Start preparing, lad. It'd be a shame to see James's son squashed by some critter because he didn't take things seriously. Off with you, then, lad. Sixth years are arriving."

Harry nodded and quickly left the room, relieved to be free of the man. As he walked out into the hall, he felt an unfamiliar presence and turned to see a Slytherin boy his own age step to his side.

"Good morning," the boy said. He had a pale complexion and almost white-blonde hair. "My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Hello, Draco," Harry said neutrally. He recognized the name from reading about Ginny Weasley's death. "What can I do for you?"

Draco snorted. "Nothing, I'd imagine. However, there is something I can do for you. I know what the first task is."

Harry kept his face neutral while he searched the other boy's face and presence in the Force. He was surprised to feel a darkness within the boy. It was nothing compared to Moody, but he could feel echoes of pain, loneliness, bitterness and hatred that stewed within him long enough to develop a definite taint of darkness. "How would you know that?" he asked carefully.

"Father may not be on the Board of Governors any more, but he still has a great deal of influence. I know for a fact that the Durmstrang champion knows, and I'd been willing to bet that the Beauxbaton's champion knows as well. It's dragons. You'll be facing dragons."

Harry had no idea what dragons were, at least not on Earth. He knew what Krayt Dragons were, though, and hoped the two species were not so similar. "Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome," Malfoy said. "Hanging around with Gryffindors all day can be bad for you, Potter. Don't believe everything they might tell you; not all Slytherins are bad."

"I'll remember that."

Draco nodded before turning to go his separate way. Rather than go to the next class, Harry instead made his way to the library and walked to the elderly librarian. "Hello."

She looked up with narrowed eyes, as if he were a potential enemy. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

He was not surprised she knew who he was. "Yes, I'm sorry to bother you, but my last school used a different indexing method than what you use here. I was hoping you could help me understand your filing and reference methods."

Her eyes widened, and the look of suspicion gave way to one of awe. "You wish to learn how to use our card catalogue?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. The library is large enough I don't see how I could make any sense of it otherwise."

"And yet you're the only student in three years to ask!"

"Let me guess, Hermione Granger was the last?"

"Well, yes. In her first semester, no less. Come, then. I'll show you our self-updating card catalogue system!"

Harry learned far more about the history of bibliographic arts than he dreamed he would need. He learned that until forty years ago, when Madame Pince was hired, Hogwarts still used a variation of the Pinakes system of Greek cataloguing that had been used in various forms since the third century B.C. But Pince brought with her a radical new system called the Dewey Decimal System, and took on the monumental task of cataloging the entire library by herself.

By the time she finished, Harry had a firm grasp of the library's surprisingly logical layout, and how the card catalog system was updated by magic almost as if it were a computer, ensuring all entries were current, even to when a book was checked out and due back. Pince spoke enthusiastically, and by the time Harry gave her his profuse and sincere thanks, she no longer viewed him as a potential interloper, but as a cherished disciple.

She was a very lonely woman. Harry briefly thought of introducing her to Kyle, but then decided Kyle wouldn't be interested. He apparently preferred women in uniform.

When at last he had the freedom to begin his studies, he used the cards to quickly find several books on dragons, laid them out on a table, and began to read.

~~Katarn~~

Harry woke up early the next morning as he sensed Kyle walking into the suite. Kyle, knowing Harry would sense his presence, said, "Learn anything interesting yesterday?"

"I'm going to be facing flying, fire-breathing, apex-predators who are immune to most magic and range from 10 to 30 meters in length for my first task. How about you?"

"I learned that the Minister of Magic is an utter fool and not worth the air he breathes," Kyle said as he sank into a rickety chair.

"Did you kick him?"

Kyle snorted. "It was tempting, but not even I'm that stupid." He ran large hands through his thinning hair. "Amelia is sure her own department has been compromised, too. She ticked off at least ten senior Aurors she thinks would side with Voldemort without a moment's hesitation if he ever appeared again."

"That's…disturbing. Oh, yeah, Professor Moody is evil."

Kyle sighed and gave Harry an appraising look. "What makes you think that?"

"There is a complete absence of light in him, Kyle. There is simply nothing to redeem."

Kyle nodded. "People use that word a lot, throwing it around pretty liberally. As a Jedi, you cannot afford to use it lightly. But so long as you understand what evil is, then…well. Yeah, the bastard's evil. I'm fairly certain he's the one who put your name in. And given how powerful Dumbledore is, I have no doubt he is aware of Moody's disposition. Dumbledore told me the man was an avowed light wizard."

"What do we do?"

"Well, first, we shower. Me first, I think I need it more. Then we start preparing to get you past those apex-predators of yours. Then we decide whether to let Dumbledore's scheme play out, or if we stop it early."

"Is Amelia Bones an ally now?" Harry asked, careful to keep his expression blank.

It didn't work, as one of his pillows flew up from his bed and hit him hard in the back of his head. However, before he left Harry's room, Kyle said, "I think she might be. In a society as seemingly corrupt as this one, finding someone as honest as she is, especially one who is aware that her honesty is not shared by those around her, is remarkable."

And then he was gone, heading toward the shower. He was out just five minutes later, and Harry took his place for an equally fast but effective shower. Breakfast, and then transfiguration. He found that with Hermione's notes from past years, he was quickly catching up to his age-group in magic. Of course, it helped that he had the mental retention of a Jedi padawan. Things McGonagall said began to make sense, and with the advantage of having just read through three years of notes, he began to see patterns and consistencies in the professor's approach to teaching that he frankly admired.

Professor Flitwick was the same. He also audited ancient runes and arithmancy, but did not bother with astrology or history of magic. He only audited one other course with Snape, but decided the hostility was not worth the effort and instead resigned himself to just reading the texts. He seriously doubted his life as a Jedi would benefit from having a knowledge of Earth-based potions. The thought of staying on Earth did not even occur to him.

He audited Divination for all of ten minutes before deciding it was not something he had interest in. He was content with whatever the Force revealed to him regarding his future, present or past; the idea of trying to manipulate or trick fate into revealing more left him feeling slightly dirty, and the professor herself was, using generous terminology, a sot.

Care of Magical Creatures could have been interesting, but the massive professor teaching it had such a difficult time speaking clearly that very little of the lesson actually came through. He evidently had no concept of teaching, and repeatedly placed the students in harm's way without even realizing it.

That afternoon, a younger student fetched Harry for a ceremony related to the task. He arrived in time to see Kyle and the other champions. Given his unique introduction to the tournament, this was his first time seeing the other champions together. Viktor Krum was a short, muscular boy with lank dark-brown hair and severe expression on his pointed face. Cedric Diggory looked open and friendly, smiling and talking with the squat, wide-bodied witch who was his head of house. The final champion was a breath-taking girl with honey-blonde hair and porcelain skin who exuded appeal.

They lined up to allow Ollivander, the old man who sold Harry his wand, to weigh and measure their own wands. When the ceremony was over, Harry started to leave when a woman in bright primary colors and thick, jewel-encrusted glasses pushed her way through the crowd to stand right in front of him.

"Mr. Potter, Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. Tell me, where have you been all these years?"

Before Harry even spoke, a floating notebook and quill began scribbling furiously beside her, until a roughly calloused hand reached out and crushed both.

Rita blinked and stared at the intruder, only to find Kyle's flat expression staring right back. "Harry does not give interviews," he said.

"Ah, the man who threatened justice," the reporter said with a slimy smile. "Word is you've been seen around the DMLE a lot lately, Mister Katarn. Some say maybe too much. What do you say to accusations that you're attempting to insinuate yourself into the life of a potential new minister?"

"I'd say no such accusations exist, and if I see you attempting to contact my apprentice again, I will have that same DMLE detain you," Kyle said in a dry tone. "Go away now."

With a huff, Skeeter turned and walked away. Kyle watched her a moment before saying, "Stay away from her. I've read her work—she's worse than any holoshill you've ever encountered."

"Yes, Kyle."

"Now, let's go train. You can show me some of what you've learned."

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