Chapter Twenty-Seven: Making Monsters

Star Wars + Harry Potter Crossover

A/N: Chap 26 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks for reading.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Making Monsters

Monsters check under their bed for Kyle Katarn.

When Harry woke from his healing trance it was to find himself not in the hospital wing, but in his private quarters at Hogwarts. Like many Jedi, he felt groggy and somewhat removed from himself when he woke from the trance, but at the same time he knew it accomplished what he needed.

A quick meditation confirmed that the nerve damage he'd suffered from the combined pain curses of the Death Eaters was healed. What he felt now was not so much pain but more of a stiffness and soreness. He stilled when he heard the sound of parchment rustling and turned to see Hermione sitting next to his bed. He also saw that she had levitated his desk closer to his bed so she could use it to study on as he slept.

He blinked and saw that the door to the room was open as well. "That was Professor McGonagall's condition for my being in here," Hermione said without looking up from her book.

Harry tried to say something, but his throat was so dry it came out as a croak. Hermione turned, and with an oddly blank face, reached for and handed him a tumbler of water. Harry sat up from bed and sipped enough to wet his mouth and throat before drinking any more. He handed it back in silence and regarded Hermione's blank expression.

He did not want to use the Force to gauge her mood—that just seemed like cheating. "You're mad at me," Harry said at least, taking a guess.

"Why would I be mad at you?" she said calmly. "It's not like you used me as a means of setting a trap that ended up putting you in bed unconscious for three days and getting ten people killed. Oh, whatever would I be mad for?"

Harry tried to absorb the idea that he'd been unconscious for three days. It certainly explained the ravening hunger he felt. "I'm really new to all this," he finally said. "It this one of those things where sorry is not enough?"

Hermione suddenly slammed her book shut but didn't say anything. With sore muscles, Harry swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stared down at his bare legs. He appeared to be wearing sleeping shorts and a tight T-shirt, so at least he wasn't completely bare. He then leaned over until he took Hermione's hand. He didn't try to apologize mainly because he had no idea what to say, so instead he simply held her hand.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. With the heel of her free hand she wiped it away. "You wouldn't wake up," she said. "Madam Pomfrey said you were just sleeping, and it seemed to be helping, but they brought you in and you wouldn't wake up."

"I entered a healing trance in Professor Dumbledore's office when we returned," Harry admitted. "They used the Cruciatus on me and I was afraid if I waited there would be permanent nerve damage."

She turned and stared at him, mouth agape. "No," she breathed. And suddenly she was on his lap, arms around his shoulders, weeping.

"Er, I'm better now," Harry mentioned. After three days without moving, she felt rather heavy on his lap, and he rather badly needed to pee.

For some reason, this just made her hold him tighter, to the point his ribs began to ache. On the other hand, she was pressing against him pretty hard, and he could smell the floral fragrance of her hair and neck.

Therefore it was with both relief and disappointment that he saw McGonagall step into the room through the open door and clear her throat loudly. The effect on Hermione was instantaneous—she flew off his lap as if by magic, blushing brilliantly. "Professor McGonagall! Harry's awake!"

"So I see," McGonagall said sharply.

"Er, well…it's good to see you awake, Harry." She quickly gathered her books and papers. "Talk to you later." She then rushed past the professor.

McGonagall watched the entire procedure without saying a word until Hermione was gone. "How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?"

"Weak, but okay," he said. "Hungry."

"I dare say so. Well, please do get dressed. The Headmaster will wish to speak to you, though I will ensure food is available for you at the time as well."

"Thank you!"

After a quick shower and toilet, Harry dressed and walked through the halls of the school. It appeared to be late morning, but classes were in session so he did not pass many students save for a handful of sixth and seventh years. He tried to ignore their intense stares. The gargoyle stepped aside the moment Harry arrived and after riding up the odd, moving spiral staircase he found himself once more in Dumbledore's office.

The Headmaster was not alone; in fact, the office appeared quite crowded. Every person there turned and stared intently at Harry as he entered. He recognized Fudge, with his bowler hat in his hands clutching the brim convulsively. He recognized Moody, but none of the others there.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said from behind his desk. His gloved, magical hand rested inertly on his desk while with his left he was stroking his long beard. "I'm glad to see you are up and about. I'm sure you've noticed our many guests."

"Yes, sir," Harry said neutrally.

The tallest man in the room stepped forward. Heavy brows furrowed together in an unrelenting frown on his long, drawn face. "Mr. Potter, my name is Rufus Scrimgeour. I am the new Minister for Magic."

"Congratulations, sir," Harry said, again keeping his tone flat and his face neutral.

"Yes, indeed," Scrimgeour said. "We have some questions regarding some of the participants in your little scrap. Specifically, who those people were and how they got into the Ministry of Magic."

"I don't know how much help I'll be, Minister, but of course I'll do what I can," Harry said.

~~Katarn~~

"That woman is totally off her trolley," Alastor Gumboil said with his normally somber, droll tone. "Utterly insane."

"Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?" Devereaux asked dryly.

"Yes," Gumboil said. "Off her rocker, with a side case of advanced, aggressive dissocial personality disorder."

"Big words." Tonks noted from the kitchen table.

"Only to small minds." Gumboil retorted, not changing tone.

Bellatrix Lestrange was thoroughly wrapped up in a bare bedroom in the safe house, disarmed, searched and otherwise helpless. Gumboil and Proudfoot started working on her before Kyle and Amelia even woke up, the former being a chief interrogator for the hit wizards, and the latter for the auror department.

"What's your take?" Kyle asked Proudfoot.

"The bitch is bloody bonkers," the auror confirmed. "She threatened to skin me alive with her teeth because I'm a halfblood, but she offered to give old Alastor a blow because he's a pure blood."

"Sounds like the plot to an American television programme," Amelia said. "Veritaserum?"

"Yes, and it didn't work."

Amelia frowned. "What?"

"That's what I'm telling you," Gumboil said. "Her insanity is not feigned. She truly believes everything she spouts off as honest truth, even if one statement contradicts the last within seconds. At one point she was telling me she was Morgana reborn. She's aware that her husband was killed, but her anger is not because of the loss of his love, but because he belonged to her. Potter didn't kill her husband, he killed a favored plaything. She's barmy as they come."

"Could you do that mind-trick thing, Kyle?" Amelia asked.

Kyle shook his head. "There are limits. There are Jedi who can walk into your mind without you realizing it. I'm not one of them."

"Er, Boss?" Tonks said. "I might have an idea, but you won't like it."

"Oh?"

"My mum."

Kyle blinked his one eye and looked from face to pondering face. "Okay, what am I missing?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange is Tonks' aunt," Amelia said. "Her mum is Lestrange's sister."

Kyle looked back to the openly nervous Tonks. "Older or younger?"

"Younger. Aunt Bellatrix was the oldest daughter. My mum was the second child. Narcissa Malfoy was the youngest."

"Hmm, and you're an auror."

"Mum was disowned because she married a muggleborn," Tonks said with a shrug.

Kyle, though, merely nodded. "Good for her. What do you think, Amelia?"

Bones regarded Tonks carefully. "Are you offering because you think it will help, or because you want to reassure her you're still alive?"

"Yes," Tonks said simply.

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Are you an only child?"

The young auror nodded mutely. Kyle turned to Amelia and shrugged. "I'd let her go, but it's your call."

"Right," Amelia said. "Go get your mum. Do not let her know where we are."

Tonks almost melted with relief as her hair spiked bright pink. "Be right back!" She apparated right from the house.

Gumboil looked the two. "You old softies," he accused.

"Sue us," Amelia snapped back. "Now, what do we have to eat around here?"

~~Katarn~~

Tonks returned two hours later with a woman who at first glance could have been Bellatrix Lestrange's twin. However, at second glance Kyle noticed her hair was a lighter shade of brown than Belleatrix's near black locks, and her eyes were wider with a much kinder look. She did not have the frown and stress lines that marred Bellatrix's features.

Her eyes and nose, however, were red from recent tears. The moment she appeared she scanned the room until she saw Amelia Bones. She pulled away from her daughter, crossed the room with single-minded determination, and then delivered to the former director of the DMLE a resounding slap to the face.

"That's for letting me believe my only child was dead!" Andromeda Tonks hissed, enraged. She then spun to where Kyle had risen at the perceived threat, and to his confusion, hugged him. "And this is for saving her life," the woman said as she sobbed once into his shoulder.

"And hello to you too, 'Dromeda," Amelia said dryly while rubbing her cheek.

Andromeda Tonks spun back around and covered her mouth. "I thought she was…I thought…"

This time, it was Amelia who hugged the distraught mother. "I know, 'Dromeda. If there were any other way, I would have taken it. It was a close thing."

Andromeda took a deep breath to gather her wits. "So I heard," she said as she stepped away and regarded Amelia's leg. She flicked her wand and winced. "You did that yourself."

"It's not like I have access to a healer," Amelia said.

"Well, you do now. I brought my potions kit. But first, Dora tells me you have me dear sister captive. Why?"

"Voldemort made soul jars," Kyle said succinctly. "He can't die until we destroy them all, and we believe she may know what and where they are."

Andromeda paled as if shot but said nothing as she looked around the room. She obviously recognized many of her daughter's co-workers. Finally, back to Amelia, she said, "You can destroy him?"

"We're going to give it a damned good try."

"So it was you at the Ministry!" the elder Tonks said. "The papers were filled with articles about the mysterious wizard who fought the Dark Lord and forced him to flee!"

"We do what we can," Kyle said with a humble shrug. "Will you help us?"

Andromeda nodded. "You're going to have to give me a few moments, though. There's only one way to get through to Trixie and it is not very pleasant."

With that, she walked toward the hall until she found the first of the house's two washrooms. The younger Tonks blushed. "Sorry 'bout that slap, Boss."

Amelia shrugged. "'Dromeda and I were at Hogwarts together, though she was a few years behind me. I assure you, I would have been surprised had she not slapped me. Even if she's one of the good ones, she's still very much a Black."

When Andromeda came out Kyle wondered if she were a metamorphmagus like her daughter, since she appeared much, much different. Her hair was darker and drawn up in a severe, unattractive bun. She's switched out of her light trousers and blouse and now wore a long, black dress cinched at the waist with a wide, lime-green belt. She wore equally eye-stabbing lime-green shoes. She'd applied some make up that, rather than beautify her face, made it instead pale and unattractive.

"That's unsettling," Amelia said. "You look just like Druella Black."

"Exactly," Andromeda said with a drawn frown. "You're going to hear some terrible things in there. I will hate myself for this, but I swore I would do anything I could to protect my daughter and husband."

With that, she stepped into the room that housed her sister.

The room was not silenced, and in seconds they heard Andromeda yelling in a high-pitched, nasal voice. "Bellatrix Druella Black, what are you doing, you sniveling, useless little whore!"

Kyle's eye widened. But when he heard the response, he felt his stomach drop.

"Nothing, Mummy, I promise! I'll be good, don't sic Papa on me!"

The tirade that followed made the hair on Kyle's neck stand on end. Tonks stood and said, "Mum's going to need a drink after that."

"Bloody hell, woman, we all will," Gumboil said.

Two harrowing hours later, Andromeda Tonks quietly stepped out of the room and walked back to the bathroom, her face a stony mask. When she emerged a few minutes later, looking exactly as she did when she first arrived, she walked silently to the table in the kitchen where Tonks had a shot of firewhiskey waiting for her.

She downed it in a single gulp, and then poured a second and third. Amelia sat down next to her without saying a word; without touching her. The other members of them team quietly stood, and through mutual assent, left the room until only Kyle, Amelia and Tonks remained with the woman.

"It is difficult to put in words how very, very much I despise my mother," Andromeda whispered. "Bellatrix was beautiful, brave and smart. She protected Cissy and I both from the worst of that old hag's madness and our father's abuse, until she became just as mad as Mum." She looked up at Kyle with tears in her eyes. "Very few monsters are born, Mr. Katarn. Most, I've found, are made."

"I know," Kyle said with a somber nod. "I've seen good people twisted into monsters. I'm sorry."

Andromeda poured a fourth tumbler, but sipped it rather than drowned it. "She doesn't know what they are, but she knows the Dark Lord has created several items that are important to him. Hufflepuff's cup, the diadem of Ravenclaw, a locket and ring from Slytherin, a diary, and just recently a snake, Nagini. The snake has been charmed to be almost immortal. She has the cup in her Gringott's vault, and Cissy has the diary. The snake never leaves Voldemort's side. She doesn't know where the rest are."

"Gringotts," Amelia whispered, horrified. "We can't break in there, not without risking a war after the fact."

Andromeda sighed. "And I can't get you in. It was a Lestrange Vault that she is keyed into by marriage. My relationship with her does nothing in that regard. And if you're thinking it, Amelia, I can tell you the Imperius won't work on her. That much I can tell you. Father used to Imperius us all the time to do…whatever he wanted to do with us. By the time we were in our teens, we could all resist it without even trying. Of course, by that time we were old enough that he wasn't interested in us anymore."

"We'll think of something," Kyle said, purposely trying not to think of the horror implicit in the woman's words.

~~Katarn~~

It was lunch time when Scrimgeour and the Wizengamot committee members let Harry go. He felt emotionally drained, and although McGonagall kept her word and a tray of biscuits and cucumber sandwiches did arrive, Harry never had opportunity to eat it. So he was starved as well.

He realized early on that rather than be grateful for revealing Voldemort's presence, some of the Wizengamot members were furious that Harry injured or killed some of the Death Eaters, as did Kyle in his disguise. The questions were pointed and furious, demanding for instance who Potter thought he was to pass judgment on his fellow wizards.

"I was not passing any judgment, sir. I was defending my life against those trying to kill me and those close to me."

"How do you know they were trying to kill you?" one angry man with a bushy beard and a gleamingly bald head demanded.

"I made my assumption that they were trying to kill me based on their repeated attempts to kill me," Harry said, trying his hardest to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

"What about that weapon of yours!" another Wizengamot member said. "You have no business with a weapon like that. You need to turn it over to the Ministry immediately!"

"I'm sorry sir, but I am a member of the Jedi Order and am entitled by law and tradition to carry my lightsaber. I will not surrender it and will defend myself from any attempt to take it without my permission."

That set off another flurry of angry accusations and conversations. Harry was aware that Scrimgeour glowered at him throughout the entire "interview". Finally, after the Wizengamot members exhausted themselves with hateful accusations, the new Minister of Magic said, "Who was that man who hurt the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter?"

"I did not recognize the man, Minister," Harry said truthfully.

"How did he injure He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Scrimgeour asked.

"It appeared to be a gun, Minister."

One of the Wizengamor members scoffed. "No mere Muggle weapon could hurt a wizard as powerful as the Dark Lord!"

"The evidence would suggest otherwise, Sibelius," Dumbledore said, speaking for the first time since the debacle began. "Gentleman, I believe Mr. Potter has answered all of your questions with remarkable patience. Unless you wish to charge him, in which case you will have a public relations nightmare on your hands, I suggest we adjourn for the day."

"I do have a question for you, Minister," Harry said before anyone could break the meeting up. "Amelia Bones, Kyle Katarn and several aurors went on a mission to try and apprehend Voldemort before he even had a body. Severus Snape informed Voldemort not just of the attack, but specific details on when and where. And now he is the Ministry-appointed inquisitor in this school. Do you openly support Voldemort and his Death Eaters by allowing a Death Eater to walk all over this school?"

Scrimgeour stiffened as if struck before turning and glaring at Fudge, who seemed to clutch his hat tighter as he shrank in on himself. "Luc…Mr. Malfoy suggested it would be a good way to curtail…" the former Minister began.

Scrimgeour snorted. "That, Mr. Potter, is something we agree on. I will see to it personally."

One by one they left, until only Dumbledore and Harry remained. The old man sat nothing, leaning back in his chair and studying Harry with sparkling blue eyes. "So things at the moment are less forlorn than once appeared," he said.

"My master says it's always important to have hope."

"Somehow, that does not sound like Master Katarn."

Harry shrugged.

"I understand things became rather dicey at the Ministry. You suffered a great deal, Mr. Potter. Unnecessarily so. When people work at odds, it makes the task at hand all the more difficult."

"I suppose it is a matter of trust, Professor."

"Indeed. Well, off with you, then."

And so Harry found his freedom. The moment he emerged from Dumbledore's tower, he made a bee-line for the Great Hall, where even from across the castle he could smell food. He just barely passed the threshold when he was accosted by none other than Draco Malfoy.

The boy looked furious, with a red-flushed face and even a drop of spittle on his lip. He was flanked by two large classmates and behind him were a few other Slytherin students of various years. Every single one of them had their wands out.

From the head table, Professor McGonagall was having a conversation with the Beauxbaton's headmistress when she saw what was about to happen. "Students, sit down!" she cried out in horror.

Harry, though, saw in an instant that those approaching were lost in a rage. Malfoy cast first, but the others quickly followed suit to the screamed cries of the other students. It was such a blatant display of rule-breaking that some students simply didn't know what to do. Worst yet, Harry knew with absolute certainty that he could not kill them. To do so would play right into his enemy's hands.

And so Harry responded not with his wand or lightsaber, but with his hands and feet. He dove forward under the fusillade of spells, landed in a roll that brought his feet around in position to kick Malfoy hard in the groin. The boy dropped his wand and screamed as he bent over, which put his face in an excellent position to receive Harry's foot again. However, before the others could curse him on the ground, Harry had already extended his legs to carry his whole body upright again.

He took the two bigger kids out first with a series of carefully placed jabs that would incapacitate without killing, and then snapped their wands as they fell. He spun inside the reach of a third, elbowed his forehead, snapped his knee with a kick and his wand arm with a scissoring of his hands, and spun to the next.

By the time McGonagall, Maxime and Professor Sprout arrived, all the Slytherins were on the floor moaning in pain while their snapped wands lay in a pile beside them. From that mass, Draco screamed, "You're dead, Potter! You're dead! You hurt my father! You're dead!"

McGonagall came up short on the scene shocked by the sheer violence of it. "Oh Merlin," she moaned. "I should have seen this coming. All those students either lost their fathers, or saw them thrown in Azkaban last night. I should have known!"

"It was Head of Slytherin's house to do that, Minerva." Sprout said. "And with Severus on his little crusade…"

"Minister Scrimgeour wishes to talk to Snape about his activities as a Death Eater," Harry said. "Please let him know if you see him. Now, I haven't eaten in days. I'm going to get something to eat."

Harry felt every pair of eyes follow him as he left the stunned professors and injured students and walked to the Gryffindor table. Hermione was watching him intently like the rest, but unlike the others he didn't see fear on her face, just worry. She scooted over to make room for him and he sat gratefully.

Without a word, she helped him gather a plate of food, while near the door other professors were levitating away the injured students. It was Seamus Finnigan who finally said, "Blimey, 'Arry, how'd you do all that?"

Harry, having already taken a large bite, simply met the boy's wondrous stare as he chewed before saying, "Magic."

He then kept eating.

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