A/N: Hello there, readers. A month and a half. Not necessarily the time I was shooting for, but there you go. Better late than never.
I want to clarify the authors note on the last chapter. I did not mean that was trying to demean guest reviews. I am sorry. It was not my intention if that was how it came across. I was specifically targeting flames who bashed the story anonymously without giving any constructive criticism. Guest reviews are welcome, even those who do not like the story. I just ask that if you don't like it, please state it constructively. Thank you.
Reviews:
Readorcetics: Yes, Harry is powerful in some aspects of the Force, telekinesis among them. However, the Deathly Hallows, while granting him great power with respect to magic, severely crippled his connection with the Living Force and his ability to manipulate it. It is touched on briefly in this chapter. His primary skills in the Force have to deal with the Unifying and Cosmic aspects. Harry's use of skills like Force healing, mind tricks, and manipulation of animals, in addition to others, have been lost. Remember Harry's quick instruction of Yasin in the last chapter. Midichlorian counts (the power readily available to use) does not necessarily denote skill. Someone with a smaller count could have an extremely sharp will and use what power he or she has to greater effect. Look at Anakin in the prequels. He is supposedly the Chosen, but is defeated twice. Once by Dooku and once by Obi-Wan because his anger caused him to use his power wildly and his opponents used a lesser amount of power with greater skill.
ElementaryDrW: We definitely will see more of the ma'jaii (and other Terran species) culture. Unfortunately it won't be more than bits and pieces until the interlude between Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones.
Agnar: Things will follow canon somewhat closely until Coruscant, unfortunately. We start to see a little foreshadowing of that deviation in this chapter with the discussion between Harry and Padme. In all honesty, I am trying to skip over those portions which would be the same. Our next jump should be to after the podrace and their escape from Tatooine. Coruscant is where the story starts to detour. I like political intrigue so writing the Senate session should be fun and at least a chapter in and of itself.
Chapter 4: A Political Perspective and Jerky
Padme was not sulking. She wasn't. She was just avoiding the oh-so-wise Master Jinn so that she wouldn't be tempted to shoot the Jedi in the foot with the hold-out blaster she had hidden in her rough handmaiden disguise.
How dare he!
The Royal Yacht was not something he could bargain with, let alone use as collateral in a bet. She loved that yacht. It didn't matter if it was currently just slightly more useful than a large speeder… It was hers!
That was why she was currently being commanded by a nine-year-old boy, working on a delicate piece of technology upon which her entire future rested with absolutely zero technical knowledge whatsoever concerning the device, following directions like, "Turn it that way…no, to your left… your other left… oops, you were right the first time."
"You look frustrated. What's wrong?" The softly asked question came from someone standing directly behind her. Thus, Padme's reaction was completely expected.
"Aaaaiiiiii!" the girl let out a high pitched squeal of surprise and swung the electrospanner she was holding at the head of the person who had sneaked up behind her. Her hand was easily caught by Knight Potter.
"Is this some sort of Nabooan greeting I'm unfamiliar with?" Harry asked with a roguish grin, having discarded his earlier disguise, "Next time I see the Queen, should I attempt to beat her with a tool box?"
"Don't sneak up on me!" Padme realized how close they were standing. She was proud to say that she could only feel a dusting of heat in her cheeks, a far cry from the molten blushes which had afflicted her during their conversation in the galley. She firmly tugged her hand from his grip and stepped back, "Where did you run off too? One moment you're behind me and the next you're nowhere in sight. If you'd been there," she poked the Jedi in the chest, "then… uh," Padme paused and poked him again. It was like poking a slab of granite. Quickly she got her train of thought back on track, "then maybe our fate wouldn't rest on a nine-year-old competing in an infamously lethal race." He blinked at her, confused.
"Okay, I think you should start from the beginning. I need a little context."
"Where. Did. You. Go!" Padme crossed her arms and stared the Jedi down, every inch the irritated Queen and petulant teenage girl that she was.
"I felt Anakin's force signature on our way into the city and was guided by the Force to seek him out to collect him for training," the Queen wasn't amused and simply pointed at the boy who was half-immersed upside-down in one of the engines, his legs flailing in the air in an attempt to lever himself out.
"Yes, well," the Jedi scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, "I know that now," the girl's scowl deepened, "the good news is that I was able to make contact with the Temple at Coruscant. While they are unable to provide assistance in getting us off-planet, they are preparing for our arrival. My master is personally preparing a dossier for you. Officially, the Jedi must remain neutral. Unofficially, however, you have the full weight of the Jedi Archives supporting your position in the Senate and with Master Yaddle's connections I wouldn't be surprised if that support extends into other areas of the Order by the time we reach Coruscant."
That brought Padme up short. Her anger fizzled as her mind tried to process the information. Master Qui-Gon had urged Padme (technically he had spoken to Rabe but Padme had been in the room) to issue a moratorium on communication signals in an attempt to mask their location from detection by the Trade Federation. As such, she had assumed that they would arrive unannounced at Coruscant. Now, the prospect of at least part of the Jedi Order working to prepare for their arrival was a boon she did not expect, even if it was simply their library. This 'Master Yaddle', however, seemed to wield a good deal of influence within the Order. Padme assumed that she too was part of the Archives but that begged the question as to why the library held so much sway.
The Queen put down her electrospanner and moved to the bench against the wall of the rear terrace of the Skywalker apartment. Harry followed her. He seated himself next to her and patiently waited as she analyzed the situation. She was grateful for both the quiet and his patience. Upon her election, Padme's court had quickly learned not to rush her. She needed quiet to asses the situation and come to her own conclusions. After a minute or two of watching Anakin wage war against a damaged power coupling, she resumed her discussion.
"I am sure her Highness will be pleased to hear that someone is preparing for her arrival," she said, playing out her public illusion of a handmaiden. Harry shot her an amused sidelong glance but said nothing, "I assume Master Yaddle is part of the archives. If you don't mind me asking, why is a librarian so influential?" Harry gave a bark of a laugh.
"Sorry," he said at her somewhat affronted look, "I'm not laughing at you. I guess she could be called a librarian from a certain point of view," he chuckled again, "but I guess that would be similar to calling the Supreme Chancelor a government worker," Padme's confusion must have shown on her face because Harry explained what he meant, "Master Yaddle is the second oldest member of the Jedi Order, the definitive expert in the more mystical Force techniques which can be utilized by the Jedi and is one of the most respected swordsmen with her chosen style, second only to Grandmaster Yoda himself. As the head of the Archives, she has taken it upon herself to personally have a hand in the education of every Jedi to be trained at the Coruscant Temple in the past two hundred years and has absolute control of every piece of information which enters or leaves the possession of the Jedi Order. While there are many other Jedi Masters who wield a greater authority in the wider galaxy, Master Yaddle is one of the living hearts of the Order," Harry's eyes shone with pride at Master Yaddle's accomplishments and he wore a loving smile which melted Padme's heart just a little bit.
"She seems very important to you," the girl observed softly. Harry nodded.
"I was her Padawan, just as Obi-Wan is Master Qui-Gon's. She's my family," the Jedi shrugged, "If there is anyone in the Order who can guide the Queen," he shot her another sidelong glance, "though the quagmire of Senate procedure, precedent and political climate, it is Master Yaddle. You'll need all the help you can get, this issue with the Trade Federation is much, much larger than simply the Invasion of Naboo and you will encounter resistance disproportionate to a simple trade dispute."
"What are you trying to say?" Padme asked with narrowed eyes. How dare he downplay the suffering of her people. The Jedi must have recognized her anger for what it was because he raised his hands placatingly.
"I am not saying anything to demean your situation. I-" he cut himself off and subtly looked around. He held up his index finger in the universal sign of 'give me a second'. In an economy of movement, he slid his left hand into this right sleeve and withdrew the length of wood which Padme had spied during their liberation of the Royal Yacht. Up close, she could see that it was much more than a simple stick. At one point it appeared to have been carved, but time and handling had worn down much of the definition. She could make out knobs or berries had been carved into the rod at somewhat regular intervals. A smaller, handle-like section of bumps were separated from the primary length by an off-white ring which appeared to be made of bone. Padme could make out minuscule characters carved into this bone.
The Jedi subtly pointed it at the ground and softly muttered a few words. He twirled the tip of the rod in a small circle and flicked it in each of the cardinal directions. For a moment, Padme's hearing became muffled, as if hearing the sounds of the world around her through a thick blanket, before reverting to normal.
"What was that?" the queen asked, confused.
"My species possesses a unique ability to channel the Force in special ways through certain focusing materials. I used my wand to channel the Force in such a way that only you may hear what I am about to say," she raised an eyebrow at that, not for the display of power but the need for such secrecy. The Jedi seemed to catch on to this train of thought because he explained, "Could you fully blame someone to do anything to get out of a truly desperate situation? To the right people, this information could by the freedom of not only themselves but also their families. If it gets out, I could only blame myself."
Padme wanted to object on behalf of Anakin and Shmi, but as her gaze wandered over to the boy she noticed that he was now being teased by a group of what seemed to be his friends. She while the majority of them were engrossed by Anakin's antics with the podracer, a human girl and a young rodian were watching them with somewhat calculating stares. She wondered if Anakin had said something about them or if they were simply wary of strangers. A couple of housing units down, a trio of women were scrubbing small machine parts with abrasive, gossiping quietly. Every so often, one of the women would turn her head to glance at them and say something to her companions who would, in turn, nod solemnly as if agreeing.
As much as Padme prized her honor and morals, she could not say what she would do in their positions. Slavery was a concept completely foreign to her. She had reduced it to an intellectual construct. An evil to be combated in debates in the Senate and interplanetary treaties. Even in her limited experience with Anakin and Shmi, she knew that the practice could be much, much worse. She suppressed a shiver at the possibility of such a loving family being forced into such horrors.
"The Trade Federation, among others, has been under investigation by the Order for over a decade," Harry's voice brought the Queen's attention back to the matter at hand, "We have become aware of sprawling network of influence across the galaxy. We do not know the entire extent and there is little to no hard evidence of direct collusion, but it causes somewhat small events to make ripples in the wider galaxy which quickly snowball to the benefit of certain conglomerates acting on the fringes of legality. We do not believe any one of these entities to be the one at the center of this web. They are all being played, either in concert or against each other by a third party," Harry paused to sip from his belt canteen.
"The Order has been working closely with Chancellor Valorum on the investigation. At first, we were wary of including the Chancellor due to the fact that there was evidence of someone close to the Senate being part of this ring. We theorized that he or she may be within the Chancellor's sphere of influence and we did not want our investigation from being leaked without a solid base of evidence. About four years ago, there was an attempted assassination on the Chancellor," Padme's mouth went dry at the prospect, "Meditation on the will of the Force brought us to the conclusion that he must be made aware of the situation. We read him into the investigation and have halted six additional attempts since then," Harry sighed.
"In all honesty, Padme, when you step foot on Coruscant you are stepping into a much larger war than just the invasion of Naboo. Over the past decade, over a billion lives have lost their lives in one conflict or another in connection with this organization and those are only the deaths that the Order knows about. There is evidence that it extends much further back in history."
Padme felt weak. In all honesty, she was glad she was sitting down. One billion. That approximately one and a half times the population of Naboo. She couldn't really wrap her head around it. She wouldn't ask why. She already knew. She already had experienced it in her predecessor. The reason was simply greed: greed for wealth; greed for power; the all-consuming desire for more that ruined the lives of all who stood in the path of obtaining that which they do not have. To simply live in contentment was a foreign concept for some people. This greed, however, was so much more monstrous than Veruna's simple greed for wealth. This was a greed for something intangible, something which was nothing more than unending desire for absolute power. There could be no tangible reward for the one who pulled the strings of this shadowy organization. It was simply not possible.
Padme loved Naboo and her people loved her (at least according to eighty-six percent of Naboo's electorate). She would give her life for her people. This, however was something far greater than her small planet. This was a cause that would effect every sentient in the galaxy. Such depravity would not just stop at power of this world or that system. It was all-consuming. Her duty as a person demanded her effort to halt this atrocity and as a Queen she had the power to make a difference.
"What can I do to help?" Padme pinned Harry with a determined glare, "What can Naboo do to help?"
Harry stared at her, seemingly searching for something. Gradually, a soft smile graced his lips.
"Do exactly what you are doing, but think bigger" Padme blinked and Harry explained, "I was attended some of your addresses while I was on the planet," a somewhat embarrassed blush graced her cheeks as she remembered some of her more fiery speeches over the past few months. Her anger at the situation had bled through and shattered the image of a serene diplomat she had crafted during her election. The news-holos had recently dubbed her the 'Firebrand Queen' not without good reason, "'Let us not give in to the oppression of galactic bullies,'" Harry quoted from one of her more popular speeches at the onset of the blockade, one which had been broadcast in full on the galaxy-wide Republic News Service, "'We Naboo live our belief of non-violence but no one shall call us cowards. We stand defiant in the face of tyranny and greed. Naboo is the voice of peace. Naboo is the voice of unity. Our voice in defiance of oppression will ring through the galaxy long after our children's children have come and gone. Let our actions shine as an example to others. We shall not be moved. Naboo shall not be shaken!'" By the end of the quote, Padme could feel her cheeks burn embarrassment, "You were quite good."
"I was angry," she mumbled in explanation as she suddenly found her folded hands in her lap extremely fascinating. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry shake his head.
"No, no. We need that anger," she looked up, surprise, "The greatest threat to this organization is interplanetary unity and peace. With the coverage of this blockade, you have just found yourself in the best position to cause this change to the galaxy."
"But the Senate-" she trailed off as she saw Harry shake his head again.
"The Senate, whether we like it or not, is mired with corruption," Harry held up a hand to stave off her inevitable comment on the virtues of democracy, "I do not doubt that there are Senators who work for the good of all but one corrupt Senator can undo the work of ten good ones. The public opinion in much of the Galaxy is that the Senate is largely ineffective. But you, you are completely independent of that corruption and have captured the galaxy's interest. Whether or not you can actually force the Senate to act, you will become something larger than life in much of the galaxy's eyes. You will become a symbol of hope. Hope for a change and hope for a better life, whatever that life will be," he looked over to Anakin, "After all this is over and Naboo is liberated," he glanced sidelong at Padme with a knowing smile, "and Naboo will be liberated, speak on your experience and inspire others by your example. Become an interplanetary voice for change. Once Naboo recovers, reach out to the larger galaxy."
"I thought you said that you hated politics?" the Queen asked. He gave a self depreciating shrug.
"I do. It doesn't mean that I'm not good at it. I just don't like being the one dealing with the minutia. I don't have the patience."
The two settled into an amicable silence as Padme turned his words over in her head. They gave her hope. Not just for Naboo but for the galaxy as a whole. She had volunteered a good deal before her election in the Refugee Relief movement so service outside of Naboo was nothing new to her. The thought of a monarch helping out alongside everyone else was definitely something attractive and would promote interplanetary unity amongst peoples but she had a feeling that Harry meant something beyond that role: a figurehead leading the charge for change. She had some experience in her election campaign, but a great deal of that had been the work of her local campaign managers. It also helped that she happened to be running against a minion of Veruna who was almost as hated as the King himself. But that was Naboo. She knew Naboo. She knew what drove the everyday men and women in the streets because she had grown up with them. Could she do that for the large galaxy, for other cultures?
Yes. That was her answer. She could. With few exceptions, everyone strove for basic concepts in their daily lives: sustenance, shelter, liberty, purpose, respect and happiness. Life was a universal concept.
"So," Harry began after a few minutes of comfortable silence watching Anakin tinker with his podracer as his friends looked on, "What was this about a race?"
Padme's sour mood returned as quickly as it had fled. She glared at Harry and related the events which had transpired in his absence.
No one was going to take her yacht.
Harry sighed to himself as he sliced a cucumber. He had heard the rumors surrounding Master Jinn's seemingly random actions reportedly guided by the Force, but Harry had originally thought them somewhat of exaggerations. Now he knew that the stories were being somewhat kind. He trusted that Jinn was acting on the Living Force. Harry was no expert by far on the Living Force, even before his connection to it was severely damaged by possessing the Deathly Hallows. His specialty was based more in the Cosmic and Unifying Force, but even he understood that the Living Force only concerned itself with the present and had no way to see the outcome of an action. All future outcomes relied on the Unifying Force and thus, it was simply not possible for Jinn to understand the outcomes of his actions past the general feeling that it would be alright in the end, whether that end would be them winning the bet or the entire royal party hitchhiking to Coruscant as refugees. When he had confronted Jinn in private about his escapades, Harry had offered his assistance in making sure that Anakin would win the race. Jinn had outright forbade him from interfering. As a knight, Harry could not disobey a direct order from the Master. It wasn't like he was going to kill the other contestants. He had been thinking more along the lines of leaking fuel cells, unbalanced stabilizers or corroded power couplings. Cheating was rampant in these sort of races and it wasn't against the rules if you didn't get caught. And Harry wouldn't get caught.
Cooking always relaxed him. As a woman proud of her elfin heritage, Yaddle had made sure to instruct her progeny in the arts of her clan. Clan Yad was famous for its chefs and as such, Yaddle had made sure that Harry spent plenty of time in the Hogwarts kitchens learning her clan's trade from the venerable elders of her clan who oversaw the culinary work of the school with an iron fist, watchful eye and very sharp knives.
When he witnessed Shmi's veiled panic at the prospect of feeding yet another mouth, Harry stepped in. By Shmi's own thin appearance, it seemed that there was not necessarily an excess of food available to the family and even one extra mouth, let alone four, would have been a draw on their resources. Thus, Harry had stepped in with an offer to cook for the family with a song and dance about Terran hospitality to convince the caring woman to accept his gift of food. Technically, he hadn't outright lied. It was the truth from a certain point of view, as Obi-Wan was fond of saying. It was just that he had stretched the truth to just shy of breaking.
He had enough Terran edibles in his expanded belt satchel to feed ten times their number and still have food left over. The elves of Hogwarts had secretly stuffed the bag full to bursting of food when they had colluded with Yaddle to smuggle him out of the system. He had only realized this when, halfway to Naboo, he had opened his ration compartment only to have a raw chicken shoot out and smack him in the face. His master had found the situation utterly hilarious when he had first holocalled from Naboo.
Now, Harry was cooking a four course Terran meal of his favorites for the small family and their guests. He had done a quick blood test with the permission of all who would be dining for a quick check of possible allergies. He was extremely glad he had done so, as it turned out that Binks was allergic to citrus. That had nixed his plan for a treacle tart for dessert.
With a prod of his mind, the door to the kitchen's small oven opened and the finished vanilla cake swapped itself out for a prepared beef wellington. The Jedi set the cucumber slices down in a small bowl alongside the rest of the components for their starter salad to fully concentrate on the cake. Normally, he was pants at frosting a cake. For some reason, it always came out lopsided for him or the cake tore on it's way out of the pan. That, however had been under the diligent eye of Yaddy, Hogwart's head pastry chef. In his eyes the artistry that was cake decorating could only be done by hand. The one time Harry had tried to frost a cake using the Force he had nimbly jumped up onto the counter and walloped Harry on the forehead with his wooden spoon. Never again did Harry attempt it in the little elf's kitchen and the bruise had decorated Harry's forehead as a reminder of his heresy for over a week.
Now, outside of Yaddy's tyrannical kitchen, Harry gently separated the cake from the pan with his mind. Not even allowing a single crumb to stick to the metal baking dish. The pale brown chocolate frosting came in a fluid wave from the mixing bowl on the counter to cover the sides and top of the pastry. This was infinitely easier than doing it by hand. With a pull of his mind, the frosting churned, forming itself into images of different Terran flowers: a rose here, a lily there, small buds of baby's breath decorated the edge while vines of ivy separated each decoration.
Harry blinked. As scary as the thought was, Yaddy had actually been right. There was no artistry in this. He did not feel any pride at the achievement. With a grumble about elves who knew too much for their own good, he settled the cake down on a platter and picked up a spatula. While a lopsided and lumpy cake wouldn't look as nice, he would feel better about himself than if he were complemented for something that took absolutely no effort.
A subtle sensation in the Force caused him to reach out and shoved the frosting bowl further back on the counter.
"That's for dessert," Harry told the boy who had sneaked into the kitchen when his back had been turned, "You can taste it when dinner is finished." Harry turned around to see a wide-eyed Anakin frozen in the shock of getting caught, his finger still extended into the space where the frosting bowl had recently occupied.
The odd sensation was back. It was not the overpowering force hypersensitivity. That had vanished when Padme had introduced him to Anakin after she had filled Harry in on the situation with the bet. No, this was a nagging familiarity which lurked in the back of his mind. It slightly felt like Terra, like the ebb and flow of the Force which bubbled beneath the skin of every Ma'jaii. Harry had made sure to check if the boy had any Ma'jaii ancestry when he had run the blood test to check for allergies. The Terran species could produce children with humans or even near-human species so it was possible, if not very probably due to Ma'jaii's tendency for seclusion. The results, however, had come back one hundred percent human, which was puzzling.
Anakin must have realized he was still holding his finger in the air for he nonchalantly reached over to pluck a pallie from a bowl against the wall as if that had been his original intention all along.
"What are you making?" the boy asked, subtly sniffing the air. His eyes flickered between the soup pot simmering on the stove, the mound of the beef wellington in the oven illuminated by the soft glow of the heating element, and the lumpy frosted cake on the counter. A quick glance at the components of the salad resulted in a disgusted twitch of Anakin's nose, showing Harry the full extent of the nine-year-old's dislike for raw vegetables.
"Well," Harry began, amused at the seemingly universal dislike of children for vegetables, "I'm making a full Terran meal. First, we have a tossed salad," Harry pointed at said greens and received another disgruntled twitch from the boy, "then, there is butternut squash soup," Harry lifted the lid of the bubbling soup pot and Harry hid a smile at the interested face Anakin made when the smell hit his nose. The Jedi would tell the boy it was almost all vegetables after he had consumed his bowl, "Then we have something called beef wellington, which is a cut of meat from a Terran animal called a cow wrapped in dough and spices," Anakin's eyes went wide, "and then we have a simple cake for dessert," Harry gestured at his lumpy creation.
"We're gonna have meat?" Anakin seemed to tremble in excitement. Harry could only nod, perplexed, "Yippee!" Anakin's squeal of joy caught Harry by surprise. The boy threw his piece of fruit back into its bowl and rushed over to the oven. He plopped himself down on the floor to watch the beef wellington beginning to brown, "You must be rich, mister! I've only had meat a few times and it was really good. Watto only gives us some when I help him make a big sale. It's always womp rat, but mom knows how to cook it so we don't get sick. Does it taste anything like womp rat?" the boy looked up at the Jedi from his place on the floor and Harry blinked down at him for a moment, trying to process the boy's rapid fire speech patterns, before squatting himself down next to Anakin.
"Well, I've never had womp rat before, so you'll have to tell me," Harry reached into his belt satchel and called a piece of beef jerky to his hand from his ration compartment. He withdrew the piece from the bag and unbelievably, Anakin's eyes grew even larger. He took the piece from the Jedi's hands and stared at it as if it were a treasure.
"Is it already cooked? Do I have to do anything to make it safe to eat?" He glanced up at Harry and the Jedi felt his heart break a little. Having been adopted into the Yad clan through Yaddle, Harry had a special place in his heart for feeding people. Food was an important part of the Yads' culture and tradition. The Yads served food in an attempt to give part of their own lives to others in sustenance. It hurt to think that such a small gift of food was so precious to a child.
"You can eat it as is. Beef isn't poisonous. This piece has been smoked and dried so that it can last for years before you eat it," Harry watched as Anakin nibbled on a corner. He chewed the tough meat carefully and swallowed. His gaze flickered back and forth between the chunk of jerky in his hand and Harry.
"This is so much better than womp rat," he said in wonder. The boy took a few more small bites, chewing happily before he paused and looked thoughtfully at the remaining half of the jerky, "I-" Anakin began, "I probably should save it for later. You said that it will last for a while and we will be having more tonight. I want it to last," he looked longingly at the small piece of meat before moving to stow it in his pocket. Harry stopped him by placing his right hand on the boy's shoulder, the other reaching into his belt satchel. He called out in the Force and a box zoomed into his hand. He withdrew the sizable container from his satchel and the boy stared in wonder as the laws of space were seemingly defied as what exited the satchel was a good deal larger than the satchel itself.
"You can finish that jerky if you want," he handed the container to Anakin, still somewhat in shock at its appearance, "There is a lot more in here. There's different types too," Harry opened the lid to display all of its various compartments to the boy and pointed various ones out to the boy, "Here's the beef which you tried. And here's chicken, a type of bird; and pork; and ostrich, a very large type of bird which doesn't fly. Oh and here's mooncalf, if ever you're really hurt or sick, eat some of this and it will help you get better quickly. And here," he drew out a small chunk of meat that was a vibrant green, "is my favorite. It's very special," he leaned in close to Anakin and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "do you know why?" Anakin shook his head, a smile beginning to form on his face as he got over his shock, "it's dragon jerky."
Harry popped the tidbit of meat into his mouth, chewed the tasty hunk of tough meat quickly and swallowed. He held up a finger in a 'just-a-moment' gesture before he felt the tell-tale rumbling in his stomach. The Jedi lifted his head back and released a great belch, shooting a half-meter jet of flames towards the ceiling.
(line break)
That was how Shmi found them about half an hour later when she came to check if Harry needed any help. The main dish was cooling on the rack above the oven and both the boy and her newest guest were sitting on the floor, burping and shooting flames out of their mouths, a large container of dried meats open before them. She stood there blinking as the belching stopped and both boy and young man erupted into laughter. Slowly she exited the kitchen. She had seen plenty of odd occurrences while raising Anakin, but this had to be one of the strangest. The mother smiled softly to herself. As long as he didn't burn down their home, she was fine with it. He was her light in this dark life. His bright outlook on life was always a balm to her soul. Her miracle deserved all the happiness he could get.