AN: Chapter III is now live! Next up, working on Emperor's newest chapter. Hopefully, this'll mean I'm back on track...but don't get your hopes up, honestly.

When Harry had been informed by Owl Mail that he would be picked up by a guardian, of sorts, to take him shopping for his materials — being given the same consideration as other Muggle-born wizards/witches after he informed the school of his present ignorance of all things magical — he had no expected his guardian to be so...conspicuous.

"Hello, Mister Potter. I am Professor Aurora Sinistra, from Hogwarts," the woman introduced herself while standing in the doorway. It would've been fine, were it not for the fact that she had apparently opted to wear the most hideous combination of neon coloured clothing he had ever seen. Decked out in neon-lime-green track pants and a hot pink jumper that had the word "Love!" haphazardly stitched on the front, she looked like a walking billboard for a thrift shop with exceptionally bad taste. "I'm here to pick you up for your shopping trip?"

Harry glanced back at the door that led to his room, comforted in the knowledge he'd locked it tight, before looking back at the professor — hoping against all things that they wouldn't be seen together for very long in public, if this was her choice of style.

"I'm ready to go, Professor," he responded courteously with a nod, before noticing the distinct lack of transportation along the road. "I'm sorry, Professor, but do I need to call a cab, or are you parked nearby…?"

The Hogwarts professor smiled and waved away his concerns. "That's quite alright, Mister Potter," she assured him. "Merely take my hand, and we'll be away."

Odd, but given the circumstances, Harry decided to play it reckless and trust that the woman knew what she was doing...even if she couldn't apparently match clothing. The moment he touched her, however, he felt his entire being squeeze itself into what felt like a tiny tube, but before he could react appropriately, his vision cleared up, and he saw himself in the midst of what seemed like a very busy alley...right out of the Middle Ages.

Had they? Did she…? How had she done that?

"Welcome...to Diagon Alley!"

Returning his focus to the matter at hand (while making a mental note to inform XoXaan of what had just happened), Harry had never felt quite so disappointed, and yet intrigued, in his life.

Gazing upon the British Wizarding World's most famous street, Harry couldn't help but shine a critical eye upon what he saw. In XoXaan's tales of the Sith and the Jedi, she had regaled him with stories of entire planets covered by singular cities, or worlds with floating landmasses. The way she had described these civilisations, and the way Force-sensitives were predisposed to lead these civilisations, had arguably made him develop high standards for the Wizarding World.

Clearly, he'd expected too much.

The entire "alley" was some sort of pastiche of Medieval and Mid-20th century architecture, and the signs outside were simply anachronistic at this stage. To compound the matter, everyone appeared to be decked out in antiquated robes — not unlike those occasionally worn by XoXaan's image, when she donned the mantle of Sith Lord to remind him of his place. Still, despite the similarities, XoXaan wore the robes to show off her power; these people wore them like they were a jacket. It was...underwhelming.

Still, it was worth keeping it together long enough for Sinistra to show him and the gaggle of other Muggleborns she'd apparently had waiting for them the rest of the main Alley...though, once she explained where the main entrance of the Alley was located, he wasn't quite sure about the wisdom of placing the entrance in some walled off section of a London pub.

It seemed like a public perception problem waiting to happen.

"Oh, there's no risk of that, Mr. Potter," Sinistra assured him after he'd asked. "The Leaky Cauldron is warded against Muggle interest."

"Warded, professor?" a bushy-haired girl nearby asked. He eyed her for a second before returning his attention to Sinistra; nothing about the girl seemed particularly interesting. Perhaps a bit overeager to ask questions.

Sinistra nodded as she looked at the other Muggleborn students as well. All of them seemed confused by the word. "A ward is a special spell we set up around particular objects or places, able of performing a specific action," she explained with a smile. "In the Cauldron's case, it ensures that Muggles never feel the desire to look at what's going on near the pub. To them, even if a gryffon were to land in front of the pub, they would never bother to look at it."

Harry's eyes widened fractionally as he absorbed that information. That seemed like an incredibly useful application of magic — far beyond anything XoXaan had described to him. He would have to ask his Master about it later.

Despite his eagerness to learn more about these spells, however, Sinistra was dedicated to her job of showing the Muggleborn around the Alley, making all the appropriate stops so they could gather their supplies. Some of them sounded rather useless — what on earth would he need a cauldron for? Given their size and shape, it seemed to him that a conventional, stainless steel pot would do just the trick. The same could be said of many of the ingredients he was supposed to acquire for...alchemical purposes, he supposed, given the names of the shops.

However, the last straw were the quills and parchment. He could deal with the cauldron and the other miscellaneous items the school was figuratively cramming down his throat, but he drew the line at quills and parchment. They were inefficient and simply outdated.

"Professor, is there some reason why Hogwarts does not use regular paper?" he asked as calmly as he could when Professor Sinistra finished informing them of the supplies they could purchase at the stationary store. "Or pens, for that matter?"

To his dismay, it seemed as though Professor Sinistra was quite taken aback by the question — and not just because of her ignorance, but because it also meant that generations of Muggle-borns had come before him without anyone asking. He feared for his species.

"Well…" she started, sound the most uncertain he'd ever heard her today. Looking over at his fellow Muggleborns, he could see sparks of curiosity in their eyes, as though they had been wanting to ask the same. "I…"

"You've mentioned that technology appears to malfunction around magic," Harry pressed, "and yet paper and pens use no electricity for them to malfunction, and would not require skinning animals senselessly or the use of inefficient ink pots to continue writing."

He was dimly aware of the fact that the bushy-haired girl in the group seemed torn between admiration and disapproval. The other kids were merely nodding along, although a few seemed confused by his mention of animal skinning.

"Therefore, is there any reason why we should not merely skip this part of the visit in order to focus on more pressing and worthwhile acquisitions, such as our wands?" he pointed out reasonably.

As he waited for the professor to respond (and he estimated good odds that she'd just end up agreeing with him and moving them along, if only to stop him from completely dismantling Magical society rhetorically), he eyed the people in the stationary shop and noticed the uncomfortable looks of the store employees. Eyeing the few customers inside, and then back at his group, a realisation began to take shape as XoXaan's teachings clicked.

It was business. There was no other explanation for it, really. Tradition only served well when it was useful, and parchments and inked quills were hardly that. On the other hand, the stationary shops in this seemingly retrograde world would be entirely unable to compete with all the stores that sold regular paper and pens in the Muggle world, as they called it. Moreover, having to adopt Muggle pens, pencils, and paper would require them to actually interact with the Muggle world, which, given the Professor's hideous outfit, they were poorly equipped to do. By enforcing the need for parchment and quills, it guaranteed business to otherwise obsolete shops.

It was all so...banal.

"I...believe you've made your point, Mister Potter," the Professor conceded with a nod, shooing the group out while shooting back what Harry guessed was an apologetic look at the store employees.

He didn't understand why, though. This shop, like so many others he was seeing today, were clearly obsolete. He'd gone shopping often enough with Aunt Petunia for groceries (back before XoXaan had set him free of the Dursleys' abuse) to know that roughly 60% of the things they sold in Diagon Alley had a better, improved version waiting just a few streets away, in the Muggle world. The 40% that he couldn't find analogues for, he presumed had some sort of magic involved in their creation.

"Why did you do that?"

Harry snapped back to reality, noticing he'd fallen behind the group. He then belatedly realised he was not walking alone at the back: the bushy-haired girl from before was fixing him with an intense stare he was completely unable to read, much to his frustration.

"Did what?" he asked.

"Question the supplies list."

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. Was she criticising? Curious? Perhaps a mix of both? Best play it safe. XoXaan had warned him hundreds of times about keeping his abilities — mental, physical, and metaphysical — close to the chest.

"I don't fancy having to write on dead animal skin," he answered plainly. "And having to dip my quill in ink every five minutes seems like a waste of effort."

There. Maybe now she would come to see him as just a lazy, squeamish brat, instead of someone she should take notice of.

"I don't believe you," she stated flatly.

Harry shrugged. "That's really not my problem," he pointed out reasonably. "You asked, and I gave you an answer. Whether you like it or not isn't really my concern."

The girl harrumphed, and sped up to catch up with the rest of the group. Harry didn't mind — it left him alone with his thoughts, which were currently full of self-recrimination. XoXaan had warned him to stay under the radar, and he had let his temper get the best of him, making a scene where he should have remained quiet. While his arguments were true, it now also made him a person to watch for at least Professor Sinistra, and perhaps that bushy-haired girl, too.

That was...problematic, especially considering that for the Grand Plan to work, he had to remain out of the spotlight.

Thoughts about how best to regain his obscurity within the group plagued him throughout the entire wand acquisition experience, meaning he paid most of what the old man in the store had told him, other than to give him the occasional grunt of agreement or a nod. He later recalled that the man had seemed quite put out by his seeming lack of interest in the whole thing.

Again, not really his problem. When one's master tells you of wars and feats that spanned galaxies, the materials and provenance thereof in a wand really paled in comparison in terms of significance, in his opinion. Instead, he set the wand box into his bags (which were amazingly charmed to be quite larger inside than on the outside, as well as light as a feather!) and followed the group from one shop to the next, never making any moves or giving any opinions that might catch one's attention.

By the end of the experience, he was quite confident that his fellow future schoolchildren had quite forgotten about his outburst, save for the one girl, and even Professor Sinistra appeared to have judged his attitude to be a product of his Muggle upbringing.

A tad bigoted, in his opinion, but convenient.

"Well, then," Sinistra said at the end of their tour, "I hope you've all had a good learning experience while you gathered your school materials."

All the kids nodded, prompting a slightly curt one from Harry as well to fit in. The bushy-haired girl eyed him suspiciously. Damn her.

"Now, then. Your parents will be waiting outside the Leaky Cauldron," she reminded them. "Except for you, of course, Mister Potter. I believe your guardians requested you be dropped off?"

Harry repressed a snort. They'd requested no such thing. Hell, they hadn't even written the letter to Hogwarts informing them of his acknowledgement of the acceptance letter. He doubted they would've sent such an accommodating woman as Sinistra if he'd let them write it.

He nodded at his temporary guardian.

"Just as well," Sinistra said with a smile, having seemingly put out of her mind his earlier episode. "I believe we have a few additional stops we must make, given your circumstances."

That intrigued Harry, but he merely nodded in response as the other children were shooed through to the Leaky Cauldron. When Sinistra returned to his side, she held out her hand to him, and he wondered if it was a sign they had to teleport again.

It was not. She was merely treating him like a child.

Harry fought back his indignation and outrage at being led around by the hand, keeping as innocent a smile as he could on his face as the older woman led him back down into Diagon Alley towards the building at the end, where the path split into two other streets. There stood an imposing building of old, yet elegant architecture, with two human guards standing at its doors.

It would've looked completely normal for Muggle London, were it not for the fact that the pillars in the building's facade were crooked. A glance above the porch quickly informed him of the building's purpose.

Gringotts Bank.

Well, at least there was a sensible thing to see. Good to know even Wizards understood the importance of a market economy.

Harry took it back. Wizards understood nothing.

The visit to Gringotts had buoyed his hopes that perhaps Magical society wasn't as utterly insane as he'd first thought. Unfortunately, it seemed as though every person he met in this bizarre new world was out to prove that first analysis correct.

First, he'd been treated to the sight of Goblins. While XoXaan had pretty much blasted away any notions that humans were the only species around, he had to get used to these dwarf-sized demi-humans walking around in suits and apparently counting actual gold coins using balances. Then came his identification (which was a relief, since it meant they actually understood the possibility of fraud), which quickly led him to being taken into what was essentially a mining cart, and then sent on the most ridiculous roller coaster ride in his life.

What kind of bank was this?! He'd gone with Petunia to a bank before (not entirely willingly), and he'd seen his aunt carry out business there. He had expected the teller to simply give him a bank statement, or allow him to make a withdrawal...anything but this sort of lunacy!

On the flip side, however, he found out he was sort-of rich.

Not country-breaking rich, but wealthy enough that he was sure Vernon would've burst a blood vessel if he'd known about this.

Fortunately, he did not.

Or was it unfortunate? He would've rather liked to see Vernon suffer an aneurysm from knowing his nephew was many times richer than his guardians.

In any case, it certainly made several aspects of XoXaan's Grand Plan far more doable now.

"Your family is quite old in our world, Mister Potter," Sinistra informed him, valiantly trying to keep a straight face now she'd seen his money. Harry had to give her credit for that. "And quite wealthy, as you can see. All of this is now yours by right."

Harry nodded, belatedly remembering to look awed at all this money. It wasn't hard — he was actually quite ecstatic at how much he had to work with to advance the return of the Sith.

"You should be responsible, of course," Sinistra continued, using her best "professor" tone, "and never use more than you need. This is, after all, the fruit of generations of your family's labours."

For once, he agreed with his minder. The temptation to blow all this money into ushering in the Grand Plan immediately was fierce, but he knew that he was far from ready to assume the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith.

"Of course, professor," he said as he burned the image of his vault into his mind. A thought occurred then. "Professor, were the funds you used to pay for my materials drawn from here?" he asked.

Sinistra nodded. "Naturally, Mister Potter: as Headmaster Dumbledore ordered. Until you claimed your vault, as the executor of your parents' will, he maintained trusteeship over it."

Harry nodded as he made a mental tally of all he could see. He would have to inform XoXaan later of this unexpected boon to their cause. She would probably be interested to find out about Dumbledore's relationship with the vault, too, even if he couldn't quite understand what the man's role was.

"Well, then, I believe this should be all for today, yes?" Sinistra said as they returned to the bank lobby. "Shall I Apparate us back to your home, Mister Potter?"

Harry wondered about that. Logically, he was done here, but there was one thing he wanted to check out before calling it a day.

"Professor, before we go, do your people sell crystals?" He asked.

XoXaan's decision to advance his training to the point of creating a lightsaber had been more than just a vote of confidence in his abilities: it was also a gesture of trust. Trust that he could find the components he needed; trust that he scrap together one of the deadliest weapons in the world without drawing undue attention to himself and with minimal help from her.

He wasn't about to let his master down.

Sinistra, of course, looked quite surprised at the question. "Not regularly," Sinistra answered, looking quite bemused. "Other than baubles, really. Might I ask why you are interested?"

Harry shrugged. He decided to lean on his go-to answer for those unaware of his actual living conditions. "I just wanted to get something special for my family to remember this day," he half-lied. He fully expected them to curse this day in the future, once his weapon was complete.

Sinistra, of course, bought his excuse hook, line, and sinker. For all their power, these magical beings appeared to be quite naive, or at least seemed to have a romanticised notion of what his home life was like. He had noticed with some alarm, for instance, that the bookstore appeared to have an entire section dedicated to his life.

Which was odd, considering he would've remembered reporters and authors hounding him and the Dursleys for details.

In any case, he was soon brought before a small shop nestled between what seemed to be a bistro and a clothing shop — not the robes nonsense from Madame Malkins, but actual normal wear (he presumed Muggleborn involvement). Inside, he almost reeled from the overpowering scent of incense permeating the atmosphere, and was beginning to regret asking Sinistra to bring him here.

"Ah, welcome, welcome!" An airy, male voice welcomed them from the counter. Narrowing his eyes as he tried to look through the dense smog of incense smoke, Harry managed to identify the store's proprietor — a lanky man with way too long hair that was clearly past its due date with a decent shower. "Here to get a crystal for your jewels, ma'am?" He asked Sinistra directly.

From the looks of her, Sinistra seemed no more pleased in being here than he was, but she managed to hide it better. "No," she replied flatly, motioning to Harry. "I am merely here to accompany my charge on his business. He wishes for a crystal."

Harry could see the obvious disappointment in the man's gaze as he turned to look at him, and figured it'd be best to cut the imminent lack of respect at its root. Taking out his bag of Galleons, he jiggled it to get the man's attention. "I am more than capable of paying for my interests, sir," he informed the man coolly.

As expected, the man's demeanour changed completely at the sound of money, and quickly ushered Harry from crystal to crystal, showing off his best stock. Instead of going for the most expensive one, however, Harry kept XoXaan's teachings in mind.

The crystal is the soul of the lightsaber, apprentice. If it does not resonate with you, with the Force, it would serve no better use than that of a decoration.

He knew she'd been deliberately obtuse about the meaning of her words, but Harry was pretty sure he understood; in short, don't pick the prettiest or most expensive one, but rather the one that called to him.

So far, however, none of these were really calling his attention. All of them seemed like gaudy trinkets waiting to be set into even more gaudy jewelry. It wasn't until the man was seemingly at the edge of his patience, and they'd reached the uncut crystal section, that Harry felt something resonate in the Force.

He stood rigidly still as he felt the Force sing out to him, coming from his left. Slowly turning, his eyes fell upon what seemed like a giant, uncut ruby. No, that wasn't it. Frowning, he moved closer to it, ignoring the man's protests, and looked around it. The sensation of being called to grew stronger.

He frowned as he looked to the sides of the ruby, and finally, as his eyes fell upon it, he felt the Force sing out in exultation.

There, lying between the uncut ruby and an even larger slab of jade, was a blood-red diamond.

"What about this one?" Harry asked, pointing at it.

The vendor looked nervous all of a sudden, and shot glances at Sinistra. "I'm...I fear that may not be the best choice, dear customer," he fretted. "That piece has been said to be cursed."

Sinistra was at Harry's side immediately, shielding him from the gemstone. "Cursed?" She asked.

The vendor shrugged. "It could be nothing," he admitted, "but those who've owned it have all allegedly had a string of bad luck affect them. The last person I sold it to broke his leg after the charms on his broomstick gave out."

The look Sinistra shot the man told Harry volumes about the severity of that accident. If he had to guess, it wasn't that common for broomstick charms (which sounded ridiculous by itself) to "give out."

More to the point, he rather doubted claims of "curses" on principle. From what he could tell, the red diamond was certainly infused with the Force, but other than that, he could feel no malevolence coming from it. Perhaps the Force had simply been trying to keep it out of anybody else's hands until he had come to claim it?

Either way, he wanted it.

The problem was getting Sinistra to agree, now that the vendor had played up its "spooky" reputation. It was not an argument he wanted to have, especially knowing she would likely report this back to her boss, and it wouldn't do for the Headmaster of the school he'd be attending for the next seven years to be all that interested in him.

Frowning mentally, he agreed to move on from the red diamond and chose a rather bland-looking, jade gemstone instead. He didn't really want it, but he couldn't leave empty-handed, not after that whole schtick about getting his family a souvenir. He'd pawn it later off, he supposed.

Thus, with his purchases complete, Harry was quickly led back out into Diagon Alley, at which point, having no further excuses to avoid going back home, he allowed Sinistra to Apparate them back to Privet Drive.

At least he'd have a lot to tell XoXaan.

This is troubling, Apprentice.

"Master?"

Harry had just finished informing XoXaan of his observations of Gringotts, and what Sinistra had told him about his account. Once he had, XoXaan had grown grim, as well as annoyed.

This man, Dumbledore: he wields influence beyond his station. Though your letter claims he is but the head of a school, it is clear that he, like a Jedi Master, is also capable of interfering in affairs beyond his institution.

Harry sneered at the mention of the Jedi. His Master had told him all about them — the hypocrites who would've sealed away his emotions, forced him to become a drone for the "Light" — always blinded by their precious "greater good," rather than admitting the reality before them. If Dumbledore reminded her of them, Harry knew this man was no potential ally, but rather an enemy.

You must find a way to cut his access to your account, Apprentice.

"You fear he can take my money, Master?" He asked.

XoXaan's image shook its head. If your report is accurate, then he is not capable of stealing what is yours, but he can, at least, monitor it. We cannot afford this sort of oversight, not when the Plan depends on your newfound wealth.

Harry nodded. "Then, it will be of service?"

XoXaan nodded. Undeniably, Apprentice. Though you are still too young to properly use it, these funds will allow us to undermine the fools who have stagnated the powerful on this world.

"I understand, Master," he said.

XoXaan watched him for a moment before raising one of her long, pointed nails at him. Tell me more of this crystal you found in the jeweler's shop, Apprentice.

Harry provided his recollection dutifully, leaving nothing out. He watched as XoXaan's interest grew with every passing sentence, until she had an evil smile upon her face.

The Force serves you well, Apprentice, his Master informed him. That you would so easily stumble upon a kyber crystal.

"Master, my research indicates it is called a red diamond," Harry noted.

The Sith Master waved her hand dismissively. Just as your magic is but a primitive word for the Force, so too is the name your people have assigned this crystal irrelevant. Very few crystals throughout the galaxy will ever reverberate with the Force. That you have found one is serendipitous indeed, given your current limitations.

Harry scowled at the floor as he was reminded of his current inability to build one of the fabled lightsabers. After being told the components, he had asked around for these parts, and even ended up having to describe them...to no luck. The technology to create such a device was beyond anything Earth had seen so far. In fact, only the Sith Holocron before him was as advanced as that.

"I will achieve my goal, Master," Harry vowed.

His Master nodded. Yes, you will, Apprentice. After consulting the available information in my databanks, I have found a recording of a fellow Sith who was once stuck on a pre-Industrial world with a malfunctioning lightsaber.

XoXaan's image disappeared, replaced by a still image of a male creature with twin head-tails resting against a rock, a broken lightsaber next to him.

The knowledge you will gain from this ought to help you in acquiring alternative materials, until such a time as you are capable of producing a genuine lightsaber.

Harry bowed his head. "You honor me greatly with this aid, Master."

XoXaan's image reappeared, glaring down at him. Remember this well, Apprentice: it is no aid. It is no crutch. I do not do this out of the goodness of my heart, but because you require these tools to ensure the resurgence of the Sith.

She pointed at the bedroom door. Were I still alive, I would have already had you slaughter those insects you share a home with. Were I alive, Apprentice, you would have already killed. Do you know why I have not, Apprentice?

Harry kept his head bowed — he could tell his Master was quite irritated.

Because the plan demands it so. If questions arose now, before we are ready, our enemies would seek to break our bond, and the truth that is the Sith would disappear from this planet, XoXaan reminded him, pointing a long nail right at his forehead. That is why I do not want you to worry about the crystal just yet. Any moves on our part to obtain it at this juncture would bring more attention than is safe for us.

"Understood, Master," Harry acknowledged.

Instead, Apprentice, we will work on furthering your studies of the Force. Until such a time as you are able to build the lightsaber, at least. Show me what reading materials you've acquired, and I will provide direction where your primitive magic fails to understand the might of the Force.

Harry nodded as he pulled out book after book from his shopping bags, arranging them in front of XoXaan's holocron. Initially wholly unable to read anything in English or any other Earth language, the time she'd spent instructing Harry had led to a greater understanding of English, at the very least. In turn, Harry had begun to learn what XoXaan called "Galactic Basic," including a wholly new alphabet she called "Aurebesh."

That one.

Harry looked over to the book XoXaan had gestured at, and read its cover. He had to suppress a groan — History of Magic. Even when XoXaan was teaching him the history of the Sith and Jedi, which was interesting to a certain point, he was hard pressed to stay awake.

"History of Magic, Master?" He asked for confirmation. She nodded.

It is important for us to understand the foundations upon which this Force-using community was built, she reminded him. In so doing, we will know how best to undermine our enemies. Show me each page, that I may add this information to my databanks.

Harry nodded, well used to this already. In the weeks since finally beginning to understand the English language, she had made him flip pages for countless books in order to obtain a greater understanding of Earth.

Still, the choice of History of Magic made for a boring session as XoXaan absorbed all the information she could from the text — asking for clarification here and there regarding the particular meaning of a term — before making him close it and forcing him to sit on his knees as she dictated the lesson.

In a way, it was fascinating, but equally horrifying — the amusing kind of horrifying, though, where you just can't believe such a community could've actually evolved beyond living in caves.

In short, according to XoXaan's teachings, the Magical World was the product of cowardice and convenience. Instead of using their talents to lead the masses into a golden age, the wizards and witches of yore had instead huddled behind their International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, choosing to hide away instead of confronting their aggressors.

The rest read like a bad novel — the witches and wizards effectively ceased evolving, only ever delving deeper into the nature of magic — or the Force — but never anything else. Meanwhile, the Muggles, as they called them, evolved into a spacefaring race, capable of performing feats not unlike effects produced by the Force through technology. Technology that was admittedly inferior to anything XoXaan had ever seen, sure, but still enough to match some Force powers.

"Master...is this Wizarding world even worth conquering?" Harry asked by the end of the lesson.

Explain yourself, Apprentice.

"Their history says it all!" Harry protested, motioning to the book. "They resent change, they resent self-improvement! They would rather stick their heads in the sand than face their destiny! When we rebuild the Order, how could we rely on such weak-willed creatures?"

XoXaan nodded her head imperiously. That is a valid concern, Apprentice, she conceded. The cowardice and spinelessness of your fellow Force users is troubling, but workable. A coward will always seek to survive, no matter what they must sacrifice. That is a quality we can use to our advantage. Whether we decide to spare their miserable lives or not after the fact will be up to us.

Harry bowed his head. "I understand, Master," he conceded. "Then, what is our next lesson to be?"

XoXaan's image stared at her apprentice for a few seconds before motioning towards another large book. Do not attempt to deceive me, Apprentice. You disagree with me.

Harry felt cold sweat start to form on his brow. He knew lying would get him cut off once more, and the last time he had gone through that isolation, he'd come close to snapping and killing the Dursleys where they stood. "Yes, Master," he confessed.

Explain.

Harry swallowed. "Master, these Force users may be numerous, but they are sheep, not unlike the Jedi you've taught me about," he explained. "They flock to leaders, both Light and Dark, with troubling ease. Who is to say that when we seize power, they will not just flee to the next Dark Lord or Light Lord that comes around?"

Your concern is understandable, Apprentice, but ultimately preventable, XoXaan informed him. That is why we will not be relying upon your fellow Force users for our ultimate power, but rather these so-called Muggles.

"Master?" Harry asked, taken aback.

XoXaan fixed her apprentice with a glare. Never underestimate the determination of a person without access to the Force, Apprentice. Even at the pinnacle of our power, the Sith always relied on the masses for military might and ingenuity. Do not presume yourself capable in all things, for that is the path of hubris.

"But are Sith not the perfect beings, Master?" He asked, recalling the Sith Lady's teachings regarding the rise of the Sith.

Perfect in the Force, imperfect in all else, Apprentice: that is the curse of the Sith, XoXaan corrected him. Hear now my lesson, Apprentice: the lesson of Darth Sidious — the Dark Lord of the Sith who claimed to have destroyed the Jedi, only to be killed by one at the height of his hubris.

Settling in for another lesson on his great predecessors, Harry closed his eyes as he felt his Master's words flood his consciousness. He made a note to remind her later to show him the recording regarding a more primitive form of lightsabers.

A long time ago, in a place far, far away...

Post-AN: Just heading off something I imagine some may decide to send me a PM about or review - Harry's ability to understand basic economics. Here goes: XoXaan is a very dedicated, very complete teacher. Both Jedi and Sith are expected to reach high standards of academic achievement, and the Sith are the most focused on that (according to Wookiepedia, anyway). Moreover, following the example of the education system of Bane's Rule of Two, XoXaan is teaching Harry everything he needs to know to bring down the Light - and that includes how best to manipulate the Wizarding World's financial system to their benefit (as was done by Darth Plagueis).

Regarding XoXaan's knowledge of the events of Darth Sidious: given that this is XoXaan's holocron post-Darth Krayt, I am assuming her holocron was updated with all the information dating from the time of her holocron's creation to the Fall of the One Sith.

Cheers!