Tatooine.
The desert world streched for miles, vast. A marr among the dunes of sand, the small building and moisture farm seemed terribly insignificant.
Making sure to keep his movements light, the small ten-year-old boy stepped out of the hovel and slumped down to the ground. A flop of sandy-blonde hair tumbled into his clear blue eyes, he brushed it aside with a lightly tanned hand. He had come, into the night, to think.
If Tatooine's desert was vast, than its night sky was even vaster. With no lights for miles around, the sky was a perfect black with a scattering of stars. The boy had come to the stars to see if they would swallow his worries for him. And his nightmares...
The ghostly voices and images still played in his mind like a broken holovid. He understood little of it. ...Someone laughing cruelly, a mother begging for mercy, and a blinding flash of green light after two words that he didn't understand. Then he had jerked awake, gasping and frightened. Why?
He searched for answers in the sky.
The sleepily blurred voice of an older woman startled him. "Luke?"
Hiding a gasp, he tried to come up with an answer. "Aunt Beru! I - I, uh, I -"
The older woman smiled down at him kindly. "Another dream, Luke?"
The boy nodded, looking down at his feet as if ashamed. The woman just smiled.
"Come on, Luke. Try to get some rest. You need to help Owen tomorrow, remember?" Her voice was kind. The boy nodded, making himself forget about the dream - about the stars, about everything. He ducked inside, into the safety and warmth of the house.
The woman paused for a minute, looking at the stars herself, before closing the door to the night with its beauties and its horrors.
The sky. Cresting over the silloette of the forbidden forest, it glittered and gleamed.
Harry stared at it fixedly, as if it was the nepenthe to help him forget. To forget what had jerked him awake moments before.
The jarring pain, he knew, was someone else's agony. (Someone else's? Was he going insane?) He remembered the blurred sensation of falling, falling into despair - to darkness... and the pain... and then, swinging, hanging barely to life. He shivered.
The stars, tonight, were not a narcotic but instead helped him remember the dream more clearly.
It had been set in the clouds... In the clouds? A city of metal and steel floating on the clouds? ...There was a dark lord dressed in black, in armour... Voldemort? Yet he never wore a mask... It was someone else. ...A swordfight, with swords of fire and light that glowed and shone, one of red and one of green... Glowing swords of light? How can you have a sword of light? ...And then, the unspeakable agony brought on by truth... What truth...?
Then, falling.
He shivered, hard.
The nepenthe of the night sky was not going to work tonight, like it had the time before, when he heard the thousands of voices crying out - then silenced...
Should he tell Ron? Hermione? Anyone? No, they would think him insane. Insane from stress, the triwisard tournament weighing heavy on him.
Pulling away from the sky, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, to forget what the nepenthe of the night sky could not wash away.
AN: Wheeeee! Wasn't that fun?! So Harry's force sensitive... ^_^ Good fanfic fodder.
In this timeline, the age diff. between Harry and Luke is about ten years, with a few month leeway, but it's not really going to matter. Luke is supposedly 26 at the end of ROTJ, and spent about a year and a half on Tatooine constructing a new lightsaber according to the expanded universe that I've read, so... At the end of ESB I guessed he'd be about 24, thus, Harry is bothered by that dream during Book Four. He had the reaction to Alderann(did I spell that right?)'s distruction at the Dursley's so that's also good fanfic material, should anyone want to pounce on it.
See this little box? Here? Type a Review, in it, please! Thank you! ^_^