Chapter Sixteen: Plots and Motivation

Star Wars + Harry Potter Crossover

A/N: Chap 15 Review responses are in my forums. I know I don't respond to every single review, but I do read them, and if there's ever a question or comment I didn't get to, you're welcome to post it in the forums.

Chapter Sixteen: Plots and Motivation

Chuck Norris tells Kyle Katarn jokes.

"Do you think I'm too serious?" Harry asked. He waited, but his reflection chose not to answer. The repeated comments from Anakol and then Hermione were weighing on Harry's mind as he left his and Kyle's room to audit arithmancy.

Kyle spent the remainder of that previous Sunday in a secure ward of the hospital wing with the director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, three aurors, two Wizengamot members, and Cornelius Fudge. Though Harry hadn't seen his master at all that night or the following morning, he could sense scintillating waves of irritation and exhaustion from the man.

Left largely to his own devices, Harry decided to continue to audit classes. Though a part of him hated to admit it, he found magic incredibly fascinating. Having spent the past five, almost six years learning the Force through internal control, it amazed him that his native people had instead found ways to shape the Force, or the internalized aspect of it that seemed to be unique to them, using mere words and wands. Arithmancy itself was incredible—it was the closest thing to a mathematical explanation of power he'd ever seen. In many ways, it even reminded him of some of the more esoteric physics involved in hyperspace travel and the generation of hypermatter and other exotic materials. In a real way, it was as if the wizards and witches of earth found a cheap short cut to Force powers.

Even as he audited the class with his peers, though, he let the lecture flow directly into his internalized library and instead spent the class observing children he might have otherwise grown up with, if he'd attended Hogwarts. Being an elective, the class had people from almost every house. Well, Hermione was the only Gryffindor, but there was a sprinkling of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, not to mention a heavy presence of Ravenclaws. Being a somewhat intensive subject, they all listened attentively. But as soon as the class ended, many laughed or joked with each other as they stored away their things.

"Are you coming to the advanced studies?" he heard someone ask. He didn't recognize the girl, but she had Hufflepuff robes.

It was Hermione who answered. "No, after last month's lesson I'm cleaned out on my discretionary funds for the term. I have to save a little for essentials. What about you?"

"Yeah, I'll be there representing the Fourth Years. It's awesome that Professor Vector's letting us play."

It surprised Harry how much will it took to interject. "Study group?"

The two girls looked at Harry with wide-eyes. "Oh," the other girl, who had shoulder-length red hair, said. "I don't…"

"It's gambling, Harry," Hermione explained matter-of-factly. "A card game. Ours is the lower year game. We play for knuts and sickles. The real game is Friday night and its seventh years only. They play for galleons. Supposedly it's a real life application of arithmancy, but mainly it's just fun."

"You could come!" the red-head blurted. She blushed and looked from Harry to Hermione. "I mean, couldn't he? He's auditing the class, and Professor Vector doesn't seem to care which house people come from."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Harry said.

Hermione snorted. "I can't play tonight anyway, so they'll be short a player. They'd probably be happy to have you. Let's check. Professor?"

Vector, a severe-looking witch with black hair and the stereotypical conical witches hat, albeit one in a wine-color, did not bother looking up from whatever she was reading on her desk. "Anyone who attends class may come," she said.

"Well there you have it!" The Hufflepuff said. "It's in the west wing, fourth floor. Bring at least twenty sickles!"

She flounced out of the room, leaving Harry wondering what he got himself into. Hermione just rolled her eyes. They left the room together. "How's your leg?"

Harry flexed his calf. "A little sore, but Madam Pomfrey was able to heal it quickly. How about you?"

Hermione pushed a thick strand of hair over her ears. "I'll be fine, I'm sure. It's certainly not every day someone gets crucio'd."

"Get used to it, Granger."

Harry and Hermione both looked up to see a packet of students in Gryffindor robes walking by. It was the pretty Slytherin blonde, Daphne, who tossed the comment over her shoulder as they passed. Hermione glared but said nothing.

"Does that happen a lot?"

She shrugged. "Half the children in Slytherin house had Death Eater parents. I guess it's not surprising. Even some of so called 'light' families aren't particularly nice."

Harry considered that as they walked. "Why?"

"Because I'm Muggleborn," she finally said after a long, thoughtful pause. "I didn't understand it at first, but as I've grown I think I'm beginning to understand. They're afraid of what I represent."

"And that is?"

"Change." She paused and swept an arm around them. "Look around, what do you see?"

Harry looked. All around were ancient paintings of people from bygone eras, suits of armor, tapestries and torches. The torches burned with an everlasting, smokeless flame, but nonetheless they were still torches. "I see the same thing I saw when the Wizengamot tried to take me away from Kyle—stagnation."

Hermione blinked as if surprised, but then smiled. "Precisely! We live and go to school in a museum of the past. In my second year, I checked and found that there has not been a change or update to the curriculum of Hogwarts in over a century! And the last change was to stop teaching Alchemy and battle magic! And it's not just Hogwarts. I've spoken to a few of the French students and they say the same thing. Magical society is dying, and people like me are a reminder of that fact. It's painful to them. And so instead of dealing with the message, they choose to hate the messenger."

"An apt, if somewhat simplistic, explanation, Miss Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened and she made a little "EEP" before she turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing behind them with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

Harry too was startled by the old man's appearance, but only because he did not feel his approach in the Force. "Good morning, Headmaster," he said neutrally.

"Good morning to both of you as well. Mr. Potter, I was wondering if you could walk with me back to my office. Mr. Katarn is there waiting."

"Of course, sir. I'll see you later, Hermione."

"Yeah, see you soon."

She fled the scene, leaving the two wizards alone. "Have we learned anything from Mr. Crouch?"

"Quite a lot, to be sure," Dumbledore said. He started walking toward his office and Harry fell in beside him. "And I'm sure we will be discussing that soon enough. However, I wish to speak to you about the Wizengamot hearing."

"I'm not sure…"

"Mr. Potter, please hear me out. I wish to apologize."

Harry blinked back his surprise. "Apologize, sir?"

The two of them walked slowly through the hall; the old wizard's head was bowed down, mashing his beard against his chest. "Sirius told me about what the two of you discussed in the antechamber," Dumbledore continued. "I will admit the question of custody was not at his impetus alone. You are, after all, prophesized to be the one to destroy Voldemort. I'm afraid I have always viewed you as much as a weapon as a child, and always assumed you would be there. My somewhat myopic vision is a failing I've been accused of before. That was why I placed you where I did as a child. I knew I would be condemning you to many years of unhappiness, but with the ward I drew up there you would have been safe from Voldemort or his followers."

"But not from the Dursleys," Harry noted.

"Indeed." The old man paused for a moment before reaching down and rubbing his knee. He continued a moment later, Harry still at his side. "I further compounded the issue by reading into Mr. Katarn motives I myself possessed. That is, I was certain he had some ulterior motive for abducting you."

"You don't understand the Jedi, Professor," Harry said. "What you call magic, we call the Force. And for those trained in its ways, it really can guide us. Kyle had no idea why the Force drew him to that part in Little Whinging. He didn't know until he saw me getting beat up."

Dumbledore peered over the rim of his glasses at Harry. "And can you, Mr. Potter, tell where this 'Force'of yours guides you?"

"Sometimes," Harry said. "I knew I was going to return here someday. I had visions of when Ginny Weasley died. And when Hermione was hurt by that troll in the bathroom."

"Really? How fascinating." More amazingly still, Harry sensed nothing but genuine fascination from the wizard. "How utterly fascinating. It makes one wonder if your fate was somehow tied to theirs. Young Ginevra especially needed a hero." He sobered and reached up to rub an eye. "I tend to ramble as I get older. Regardless, Sirius told me that you and Kyle actually did care a great deal for each other. I've come to see this for myself, which made me realize that the motives I assigned to Mr. Katarn were entirely my own. And so, I apologize. I have let the other members of the Wizengamot know that the question of custody is settled."

After everything the old man had done, Harry was unsure if he could take him at face value or not. He felt only genuine regret from the wizard, and yet… "And why are you telling me this, Headmaster?"

"While my methods may not always be the best, I am not your enemy, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Nor am I the enemy of Master Katarn. Fate and circumstance has placed me at the forefront of a war, and I am doing my very best to fight it with the tools at hand without becoming the monster I fight."

Harry said nothing as they had reached the headmaster's office. Together, they stepped onto the magically ascending spiral stairs until they reached the office. Inside, Harry was startled to see a despondent Fudge slouched in a plush chair with a large, full tumbler of flaming alcohol in his hand. Amelia Bones stood frowning nearby, hands clasped behind her back as if she were at military rest.

Kyle sat in the chair opposite Fudge, and Harry could see the man fighting his ever-growing exhaustion. Dark rings hung under his eyes and his iron-gray hair hung limp from his scalp. The three of them looked up as Harry and Dumbledore entered the room.

Harry, now fully aware that something terrible had happened, gravitated without a word to his master's side. The fire flared, and a moment later Sirius Black walked into the office, followed a moment later by the old, crotchety woman from the Wizengamot, and another equally old man. Sirius wore an oddly anachronistic collection of pinstripe suit and modern button-up with a bowtie. The man wore a pair of brown corduroy slacks, a painfully bright orange shirt and a lime green wizard's robe over it.

The woman wore a severe black dress, but also wore a wide-brimmed had with a stuffed vulture on it as decoration.

"We're here," the woman said snappishly. "What's all this about, Albus?"

"Augusta, Tiberius, please sit down," Dumbledore said. "While I know you saw each other at the hearing, Mr. Potter, Master Katarn, may I introduce Madam Augusta Longbottom and Mister Tiberius Ogden, both leading members of the Wizengamot and long-time friends of mine."

"Yes, yes, we know," Augusta Longbottom said in the same irritated voice Harry remembered from the hearing. "Now what's this about?"

"He-who-must-not-be-named has returned," Fudge moaned. He then drained half the tumbler of firewhiskey. Harry watched with interest as his face reddened to an unnatural degree, followed a moment later by belch of flame. No one seemed to think it unusual.

The two newcomers, in fact, looked at each other with wide-eyes. "What did you say?"

"Master Katarn here captured Barty Crouch Jr, alive and well, impersonating a professor here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore explained. "While it is a long and tragic story, the end of it is that Barty Senior broke his son out of Azkaban and kept the boy under the imperius rather than leave him in Azkaban to die. It did not work. From Junior's veritaserum testimony, we have learned that Voldemort has created a new body for himself, albeit a weak one, and intends on creating a stronger form for himself this year using Mr. Potter's blood."

"But…how can this be, Albus?" Tiberius asked in a tremulous voice.

"I do not know for certain, but we do know that he often bragged of becoming immortal," Dumbledore said.

"Be that as it may, right now we know where he is, and we know he's weak," Amelia said. "This is the time to strike."

Fudge moaned, now thoroughly in his cups.

Amelia pointed at the minister before glaring at the two Wizengamot members. "And that is why you're here. The Minister is no longer fit to decide the matter, but the decision must be made. With your factions and mine, we can get the raid authorized even without the Minister's approval. We need to do this before the enemy finds out his plan has been compromised!"

"Do we even have enough aurors to do it?" Ogden asked.

"Not really, but we have more now than we would if we let this blow into a full-scale war," Amelia said. "And Albus has pledged his own people, plus we'd have Master Katarn with us, since he's ably proved himself to be a fighter. There is no choice here. We need to strike now if we have any hope of preventing this from escalating like it did last time. And by now, I mean right now. Tonight if possible."

Augusta Longbottom slapped both hands on her knees. "You have my vote. That… that… monster and his followers robbed me of my son and daughter in law. I'll not have it again."

Ogden looked from his colleague to the rest around the room before sighing. "Yes, fine. You have my vote. And then we're going to have to have a discussion about Cornelius's future. This is not the behavior I expect from a Minister of Magic."

Fudge moaned again before training his cup and belching more fire.

"Thank you," Amelia said. "We'll stage everything right here. I'll be back soon with what aurors I can trust. We leave within the hour." With that, she turned and virtually ran into the billow of green flame.

Kyle stood without a word, nodded to Dumbledore, and took Harry by the shoulder. Harry sensed his master wished to speak but not where paintings and elves could hear. When they were back in their suite, he pushed Harry even further back into Kyle's persona quarters, which were as Spartan as Harry would have expected of his master.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't feel right, any of this," Kyle said.

"You think it's a trap?"

"Yes. But it's also too great an opportunity to pass up. Dumbledore's entire interest in you is as a weapon against this dark lord of theirs. If we can destroy him now, I have no doubt Dumbledore would let you go. But the situation just doesn't feel right."

"Who all knows?"

"Those who were in the room, plus Dumbledore's lapdog, Snape, who administered their truth potion. We found the real Moody at the bottom of Crouch's traveling trunk, alive and delirious with thirst and hunger."

As he spoke, Kyle's eyes crossed the holocom. With sudden determination, he grabbed it, and then began gathering their other non-Terran gear. Harry, without question, went to his room to do the same. When he returned with his belongings, there was a pile on Kyle's bed of flimsis, holocoms, the remote vambrace that could order down the Preening Crow, and several other odds and ends.

"These things are our lifeline off this world," Kyle said. "If anything were to happen to me, I could see someone trying to confiscate them to keep you isolated. We need these things protected."

"How?"

"Sanguini. He has offices on Knockturn Alley, just off Diagon. I'm going to get this to him before Amelia gets back. In the meantime, keep your lightsaber with you at all times. Do whatever you must to keep it."

"I understand, Kyle," Harry said. His worry must have shown in his face because Kyle reached over and took his shoulder in his hands.

"There is risk in every great thing, Harry. Tonight is no different. I'll be careful, just like I want you to be. If anything happens to me, I want you to com Anakol and tell him that you need help, okay? Ben will come."

Mutely, Harry gave his master a nod. Kyle, however, was already placing everything in one of his rucksacks. With a final nod to Harry, the old Jedi stepped out of the room. At no point was there even a discussion of Harry taking part in the fight, nor did he question it. It was Kyle's job to teach and protect him, and it was Harry's job to learn until he was ready to protect himself.

~~Katarn~~

~~Katarn~~

Harry struggled to meditate. His mind kept spinning back to what was likely happening right at that moment. Around him, the Force swirled chaotically, giving nothing.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," Harry whispered to himself, as if by saying it aloud he could make it true. Except there was emotion. He felt emotion even among the masters at Ossus. Master Skywalker loved his wife and son with all the passion a human was capable of. And though Harry tried, he felt a strong, stabbing fear for his master despite the tenant of no emotion.

The sound of a fist against his door convinced him to give up meditation as a lost cause. With a glance at the chronometer on his wrist, he flowed up back to his feet and crossed to the door. He opened it up with trepidation, keeping his free hand on his lightsaber.

Hermione stood outside the door. "Susan was wondering if you were still going to the game tonight."

Game? "Oh," he said, suddenly remembering. "I don't know if I should any more. Kyle is outside of the castle and…"

Hermione's expression dulled. "Oh, well, I understand. I'll let her know you can't make it."

Lighten up, Potter. He could almost hear Anakol's laugh in his mind, and if nothing else it would distract him from what was happening. "Wait! Let me grab some credits…I mean, er, money!"

He missed her smile as he ducked into the room. "What the stars am I doing?" he whispered to himself. Even so, it did not stop him from searching for and finding his purse of local coinage. Moments later, he and Hermione were walking through the castle. Dinner was just finished, though Harry did not eat since his nervousness destroyed his appetite.

When they reached the Arithmancy class, Harry was surprised to see people from every house there, from the third years to the sixth years. The desks and chairs were gone, replaced by three large oval tables with eight chairs around each. Against a far wall he saw a bar filled with various snacks and a large bowl of punch.

"Are you going to play after all?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no. I lost rather badly last time," Hermione said. "I'm good enough playing, but I don't do well with the betting part. Worse yet, I lost to Greengrass on a bluff." From her tone alone, Harry could tell she still carried a grudge.

Rather than simply a large poker game, Professor Vector ran a small tournament. Harry received a set number of chips in return for his sickles, and those would be what he bet with. The game itself was astonishingly simple, being something Professor Vector learned while studying at Salems for her Mastery in the subject.

The challenge came with the betting. Fortunately, since Hermione was out of the hand she volunteered to be dealer to be at the table. Harry folded his first few hands just so he could watch the other players at the table. Given his age, he was actually one of the younger players—most were fifth and sixth years. Those were the most aggressive players.

It wasn't until he saw a bluff actually called that Harry realized why some players won more than others. It was a lot like Sabbac, with players purposely betting to misrepresent their hands. With a grin, he placed his bet and entered his first hand.

And lost. And lost again. After a third lost hand, though, he began to see the patterns and behaviors. It was not just enough to read the other players, but he also had to have the cards to play.

After he made that realization, he started playing better. While Harry absolutely refused to use the Force to predict someone's hand, he had no problem using his training on body-language to decide whether to call bluffs or not.

After the first hour of play, he wore a constant smile on his face. He was surrounded by kids his own age who were laughing, eating snacks and drinking punch while sharing in a common game. Some kids would moan when they lost, or shout and carry on when they won, but never to excess for fear of being banned from future games.

During one of the hourly breaks, Hermione said, "You're doing really well, Harry. Are you having fun?"

"I am," he admitted. "Thanks for letting me come."

Hermione's cheeks reddened as she sipped her punch. "I'm glad you came. I'm also glad Professor Vector let me deal. It's fun to be a part of the game, even if I can't play myself."

Just then Susan, the flushed red-head, walked up to Harry grinning. "I saw your chip stack! You're doing really good!"

"Thank you," Harry said.

With an exuberant squeal, Susan suddenly hugged Harry before quickly retreating. "Wow," Hermione said, a little wide-eyed. "What is she drinking?"

Ten minutes into the second hour, play was interrupted to consolidate three tables into two. Hermione remained as the dealer for Harry's table, but now Daphne Greengrass was at the table, and she had more chips than anyone else there. And after only two hands Harry began to see why. She was a relentless better, using her chip stack to raise the stakes so quickly the other players often folded with patently better hands. The entire time, she played with a knowing smirk on her face.

The cards didn't matter to her—she was playing her opponents, not their hands.

During the fifth hand, after raising the bet enough to drive everyone else out, Harry called her bet and they saw the cards on the table. Without looking at her cards, Daphne bet half the value of the already inflated pot.

Harry made a point of looking at his cards, though he knew he completely missed the flop. Looking back up at Daphne, he couldn't help but smirk himself as he moved the rest of his stack in. Being the second largest, it would have meant a huge blow if he won.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she said. "You don't go over the top when raised before and after the flop!"

Harry shrugged. "I just thought I was supposed to bet when I have the best hand."

With a disgusted sigh, Daphne threw her cards down.

The next hand, he did the same thing. Once again, Daphne threw her cards down even though Harry had nothing. Four more hands after that, however, Harry did have something. He had a suited ace and ten, and when the flop came after Daphne again inflated the bet, he found himself looking at a full house.

Daphne once more bet huge and drove out the rest of the table. And once again Harry pushed all-in. "Not this time," she snarled. She pushed in the remainder of her stack, since by that time he actually had a little more than she did.

She turned over two tens. "Beat a full house, Potter!"

"Okay."

Her eyes bulged when Harry revealed a higher full house using the same cards on the table, and a chorus of "Oooohhhhs!" flowed around the tale. Daphne paled as if struck. "You're cheating! There's no way you could have that hand! Professor Vector, Potter is cheating!"

Without looking up from the other table where she acted as dealer, Vector said, "The tables are warded against cheating, Greengrass, and that accusation is enough. You're no longer invited to these games. Leave. Now!"

"When my father hears about this…"

"I kicked him out as a sixth-year," Vector snapped back. "Get out before I have the wards eject you."

Snarling, Daphne grabbed her bag and stalked out. When she left, the other players at the table applauded Harry, who was now the chip leader. He grinned and thanked them, and then bowed over as if struck when the Force exploded in agony around him.

sp

Yes, a cliffhanger. It's what I do. Thanks for reading.