A/N: It's up! And I'm almost certain that this one is shorter than the last one. This is...ridiculous, actually. I'm not really pleased with this chapter, but I've given up on getting it any longer. Seriously, it's been mostly done for month . I wrote maybe another 500 words, if that, since the beginning of summer. Aargh! Well, I hope you enjoy what's here. The next chapter probably won't be up for a while, though, as always, no guarantees.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Never will. Am getting tired of writing these things.

Chapter Eight

Harry was paralysed, stuck where he stood, unable to move as he watched his parents' destruction. Lily and James stood there, side by side, surrounded by large snakes and facing a giant one.

The giant one laughed. "Did you really think you could flee, Lily Evans?" it hissed, and somehow, Harry was able to understand it. "Did you really think you could hide from my wrath?"

His mum, ever fearless, shrugged carelessly. "It wasn't you I was hiding from," she answered. "You were supposed to be dead."

The snake gave a hissing laugh. "Come now, did you really believe that? I'm sure the old man didn't."

His mum tossed her hair back. "Does it really matter? What's done is done. Now, kill me and get it over with."

The snake laughed again. "Kill you? To be sure. But first you will watch your husband die."

For the first time, his mother showed emotion. She turned to James. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said. She smiled tearfully. "You weren't the only one hiding from a previous life."

Her husband smiled back at her. "It's all right, Lily," he said. "We all have our secrets. I'll always love you, and Ha—" he was cut off in mid-sentence as one of the surrounding snakes lunged, striking him on his arm. He died instantly, falling into his wife's arms.

"James," she whispered, heartbroken. "James!" she repeated more loudly, shaking him. He didn't reply, and she swore and then looked at the large snake with hate in her eyes. "You will regret the day you did this. I swear, Vo—" and then she died, falling next to her husband.

A shooting pain hit Harry's chest just above his heart. He screamed, and screamed—it seemed that the pain would not end--

And then he woke.

Harry stared up into the face of his Jedi Master. "Master Ani?" he said weakly. "What just happened?"

Master Ani smiled sadly. "You were having a nightmare, Harry," he said. "You're on board Admiral Truman's ship, remember? She's called the Oracle."

"Right," said Harry, sitting up. "Right. I remember." He tried to smile, but failed miserably. "Force, Master Ani," he whispered. "I know Jedi aren't supposed to feel, but...they were my parents. I miss them so much..."

"Shh, Harry," soothed his Master. "It's all right. You're allowed to feel sorrow, and even anger. Just don't let them dominate you're life, that's all, you're allowed to grieve. Bottling up emotions doesn't help." He smiled tearfully. "I'm very proud of you, Padawan. You're handling it a lot better than I did when my mother died."

Harry sniffled, then looked up into his Master's face. "What did you do, when your Mum died? If you don't mind my asking, I mean," he added hastily.

Master Ani's eyes blanked momentarily. "Let's just say I threw a tantrum," he replied carefully. "Destroyed most of the stuff in the surrounding area."

Harry smiled, more successfully this time. "Yeah," he replied weakly. "I can see that."

His Master snorted. "Thanks, Harry," he replied dryly. "I wanted you to know how sorry I am. Your parents were marvellous people; if I could have done anything to help them, I would."

"I know," replied his Padawan. He sighed. "What time is it?"

"Around quarter to five. Why?"

"There's a ship that's going to take us to Earth. It's going to be ready soon, which means that Sensei will be up soon. I don't know if he can see you..."

"No," confirmed his teacher.

"...but it would be kind of weird if he found me talking to thin air."

His Master smiled. "Is that a hint? Well, you're probably right. I'll see you later, Harry." He began to fade away, then stopped. "I know you've been through a lot, but believe me, meditating will help. You need to keep practising."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I should have known that not even tragedy could stop you from telling me to meditate. All right, all right, I will."

"All right. Goodbye, Harry." His master finished fading, and soon there was nothing there at all.

Harry sighed, but he knew his Jedi Master was right; Anakin usually was. He assumed the meditation position, and began to meditate.

He'd only been doing so for half an hour when a knock sounded on his door. He opened his eyes and quickly sprawled out on his bed. It's going to be hard to keep secrets from Sensei in such close quarters. I'll manage, I guess.

"Come in," he called. The door slid open, and in walked his Sensei.

"Good evening, Harry," the man said. "The ship is ready, and they are waiting for us. I see you are already awake?"

Harry shrugged. "I had a nightmare," he answered truthfully.

His sensei's eyes softened. "I see," he answered. "Come now, Harry."

He stood up and followed his sensei out of the room.


Outside, they were met by their guards, the Sergeant-Major and the woman from before. Corporal, thought Harry, getting a look at the stripes on her jacket. "Thank you, Sergeant-Major, Corporal," he said, nodding to them.

The guards looked as if they weren't sure what to do with their hands. "Our pleasure, Your Highness," said Dupuis finally. "This way, please."

He and Sensei followed their escort down the left corridors. "We're avoiding the populated areas of the ship," explained the Corporal. "The Admiral doesn't want you to be seen. We don't want anyone to find out you're here," she continued. "Everyone here is trusted, but we're not infallible."

They continued on for several more minutes before finally arriving at a hangar bay. A small squad was waiting for them—mostly of the Sergeant Major's squad, plus some Navy members who would do the actual flying.

They made their way across to the ship. "All right, everybody," said the Sergeant-Major. "I don't know if everyone knows why we're here..." The members of Dupuis' squad nodded, but the Navy members shook their head.

"An important escort mission," said one of them. "But we weren't told who we're escorting."

"Okay," said Dupuis. "This boy appears to be the son of the lost prince. We're escorting him back to Earth to confirm his claims completely, and then to introduce him to his grandparents."

The Navy members were well-trained; their shock only showed in a slight widening of their eyes.

Everyone got on the ship, Dupuis and the Corporal still guarding Harry. "This is the Athos," murmured the Corporal. "Welcome aboard, Your Highness, Mr. Daedalus."

They met aboard the Sergeant-Major's office: Harry, Sensei, the Sergeant-Major and the Corporal from before, and another soldier. "Your Highness, Mr. Daedalus," he said. "Please, have a seat." Harry did, though his sensei remained standing behind him.

"I can't be your guard and command this ship," explained Dupuis. "Though quite frankly, the only reason I'm in command of this mission is that the Admiral wanted the knowledge of....well, you...limited to as few people as possible. In any case, I'm assigning another guard to you. "You're familiar with Corporal Miller; the man beside her is Corporal Schwartz. If you need anything, they can show you where to get it. This isn't a huge ship, but neither is it teensy, and the library is quite impressive; you should have enough to entertain you for the six weeks it will take to get to Earth. Do you have any questions?"

"Not at all, Sergeant-Major," said Harry. "Thank you very much for this. I appreciate it a great deal."

The Sergeant-Major looked briefly like he wasn't sure what to say, but managed, "Not at all, Your Highness, it was my pleasure," smoothly enough.

Harry nodded, then stood and left the room, his new guards preceding him.


Behind them, Sergeant-Major Dupuis sighed. He'd never expected this; nor, it seemed, had anyone else. Oh, there were probably protocols for it in one book or another, but no one he knew—not even the Admiral, a man he greatly expected—had read that book. And now he was stuck with a cool young man who seemed to take everything in stride and was very probably the son of the lost prince, and a bodyguard who despite his complete lack of reaction to everything was obviously fiercely protective of the boy.

He didn't know a lot, but there was one thing he was sure of; it was going to be a long six weeks.


They arrived at their quarters: not spacious, but far from squished with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a sort of living room.

"Thank you, Corporals," said Harry, nodding to Miller and Schwartz.

A brief look of confusion flashed across their faces and they said nothing, only nodding to him in turn. They stood on either side of the door, ready to stop any assassins from entering—and, Harry was sure, to stop he and Sensei from charging out and trying to kill people.

He and Sensei entered the room, sitting in the chairs of the living room. The door hissed shut behind them.

"You know," said his sensei, looking amused, "I am not at all sure you should be teasing your soldiers in such a manner. "

Harry grinned reluctantly. "You mean, the way they're not sure how to treat me?"

Sensei nodded. "On the one hand, you are a royal prince, and thus outrank them and they should salute you; on the other hand, it is possible that you are an impostor, though admittedly not likely. So they call you your highness and treat you with respect, but do not know exactly what to do."

Harry shrugged. "It's been a grim couple of days, Sensei. I need entertainment where I can get it." He smiled weakly. "You want to play some chess?"

Sensei considered this offer, then shook his head. "No, I think I shall read," he replied. "I never finished that analysis I was reading back home."

Harry's shoulders sagged. "Back home," he whispered. "It's not home anymore, is it, Sensei?"

It was less of a question, and more of a statement, but Sensei answered anyway. "Home is where the heart is," he answered gently. "Wherever you are, I am home."

Harry nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Thanks, Sensei," he said before doing something he'd never done before: he wrapped his arms against his teacher/bodyguard, and squeezed. Sensei looked briefly astonished, then reached down and held his student for a couple of minutes, before Harry finally turned away and went to the vidconsole to play some chess.

Sensei went to another vidconsole, and began to search for the analysis he'd been reading before they'd left Ridnor*.

They stayed that way for several hours, each doing their own thing, when Daedalus became aware that Harry had become unusually quiet. He whirled around, only to find that Harry was no longer playing chess, nor even awake; the prince had fallen asleep in his chair. The man smiled wryly, then crossed the room. He considered waking Harry, but the boy needed some sleep; he had been through a stressful couple of days, emotionally speaking, and hadn't had very much rest. He saved the chess game Harry was in the middle of, then picked up his charge and carried him into one of the bedrooms. He searched the dresser that was in there; it did have clothes, in about Harry's size, including pyjamas. He undressed his prince, then stopped, frowning, as he spotted an unusual scar just above Harry's heart; it was shaped like a lightning bolt, straight and strong, and he wondered where the boy had gotten it. Shrugging mentally, he continued to undress the boy before getting him into his pj's and getting him into the bed. Tucking the boy in, he went back to his analysis for a while before he, too, surrendered to the urge to get some rest.


Harry awoke, the next—while, it wasn't exactly morning; days were relative on board a ship, after all—but at the beginning of the next day cycle. Noting that he was dressed in pyjamas he hadn't brought with him, and that there was a dresser in the room, he walked over to the dresser, opening drawers until he found some clean clothes. None of them were exactly high quality, and they were all in the same style, but they'd do.

He went to the bathroom then returned to the living room. Checking the time on the vidconsole he'd used earlier—it was 7:00—he decided to wait until Sensei awoke on his own to order breakfast, instead of waking him up immediately. He opened the game of chess, and began to play.

He'd only done a couple of moves when one of his teachers appeared beside him, glowing slightly. "Good morning, Master Ani," said Harry.

Master Ani smiled slightly, and replied, "Good morning, padawan. I note that you're not meditating?"

His student gave him an incredulous look. "Meditating?" he said. "Sensei's going to wake up pretty soon, anyways. Why would I meditate?"

His teacher gave a small yet evil smile. "Harry," he chided gently. "You're not going to have much privacy, which means that I'm not going to be able to appear much. Luckily, I can diddle the cameras, so no one's seeing or hearing our conversation, but as a Force-ghost it's a great deal harder to mess with people's minds. Besides, that's not something I like to do unless I have to." Suddenly serious, he continued, "Meditating will help you control your grief, as well as helping you to control the Force. The more you practice, the better. I'll warn you when your sensei wakes up."

Making a face, but obeying his teacher, Harry slid to the floor and assumed a posture of meditation. Meditating did make him feel calmer, he had to admit. He stayed that way for what felt like a long time, lost to the world, before a hiss from his Jedi Master brought him back to reality. "He's awake, Harry," his teacher. "You can go back to your chess now."

Harry smiled at his teacher. "Thanks," he whispered back. "Bye, Master Ani!" The Jedi faded away, and Harry was safely playing his chess game by the time Sensei entered the living room.

"Morning, Sensei," he greeted his teacher-cum-bodyguard.

"Good morning, Harry," returned Sensei. "I see you are still playing chess. Have you been up long?"

Harry shook his head. "Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes," he answered. "I knew you'd be up soon, so I thought I'd let you sleep. Shall we go and have breakfast?"

Outside the door were the corporals from yesterday, Miller and Schwartz. "I hope you weren't up all night," commented Harry, raising an eyebrow.

Miller shook her head. "No, Your Highness. Shortly after we escorted you to your quarters, we were relieved. We relieved them about half an hour ago."

"I see. Thank you," replied the prince. "Ah...Mr. Daedalus and I were wondering if we could have some breakfast?"

"Certainly, Your Highness," said Corporal Schwartz. "This way, please." They were guided to the—mess hall, Harry supposed it was, though as mess halls went it wasn't very large—but then, neither was the crew. He and Sensei picked out some food, though Sensei insisted on trying a bite of everything on his plate. He was uncomfortable with this, but let his bodyguard do so—it was the man's job, even if he wasn't used to it.

"Won't you join us?" he inquired of the corporals. "It looks quite good." They both shook their head, but it was Schwartz who answered. "We already ate, Your Highness," he replied. "We are here to guard you."

Harry shrugged, but ate his lunch. He was right; as military food went, this wasn't half bad. He finished his breakfast in silence, not really wanting to talk to his teacher with other people about, then waited as the man finished his own meal. They both stood, taking their dishes to the dirty dish pile, then were escorted back to their quarters.

The door hissed shut behind Harry and Sensei, and the boy sighed with relief. "It feels weird, all these people calling me Your Highness," he admitted to his sensei. "I'm not used to it."

Sensei smiled gently. "You are handling yourself quite well, Harry," he replied, voice as gentle as his smile. "Your discomfort is not obvious."

"But you can see it," noted Harry.

"I can," admitted Sensei. "But I have known you for several years. These people have not. Of course, they certainly know about it now."

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "Bloody bugs." He sighed tiredly. "You up for some chess?" he inquired.

Sensei smiled. "Certainly," he replied.

Harry stared at the screen, searching desperately for a way to get out of checkmate. Unfortunately, the task seemed impossible; to his king's right were his rook, and above that his pawn; the square above it and the one to the left of it were covered by Sensei's bishop, with the square above that covered by the other man's queen. Finally, his teacher's rook was coming straight down the center. It was Harry's turn, and there was nothing he could do.

Harry knocked his king over, then sighed, leaning back in his chair. The set was a physical one, one of a number of physical board games stored in a cupboard hidden in the wall of the main room; most ships were without these, as it was possible to play on the computers, but for most games it was more interesting to both players if you could see your opponent's face—and since this ship was one for discreetly moving important people about, it had a number of minor luxuries that most ships this size did not have.

"One day I'm going to beat you, Sensei," he commented dryly.

His teacher smiled. "I am sure, Harry," he responded. "But today is not that day."

Harry gave a slight chuckle. "Apparently not. But I've had good teachers—if I keep studying, someday..." he fell silent and his face darkened.

Sensei looked at him for a moment, saying nothing. Then he picked up Harry's king and inquired, "Another game, Harry?"

The boy shrugged, then nodded. They both set the pieces up and Harry made the first move.

Daedalus knew the cause of the boy's sudden downheartedness; the boy had had good teachers, indeed, and one of them had been his father. His mother, too, though she'd preferred card games; as he recalled, she'd taught Harry not just to play the most common ones, but also ways to cheat—in case he ever needed it, she'd explained when Daedalus had asked, and also to prevent someone cheating him.

They finished that game and played another before Harry's mood returned to its original state. Daedalus was glad it had, and not just because he cared for his student; he wished to ask Harry a question.

"Harry," he began, then waited for a response.

The boy looked up curiously. "Yes, Sensei?" he inquired.

"That scar above your heart—when did you get it?"

Harry's heart nearly stopped when Sensei asked his question, but he managed to school his face into a slightly rueful expression. "Oh, that one?" he replied. "I'm not really sure. I get injuries all the time—you know. It might have been the time I fell out of a tree. Or the other time I fell out of a tree. Or any time I fell out of a tree, really. Or the time I fell off my bike. Or the other time I--"

"Thank you, Harry, I take your point."

His heart felt like it was frozen, and he felt as see-through as glass; he prayed that his Sensei didn't notice it, and gave an internal sigh of relief when Sensei indicated his agreement.

It wasn't the first time he'd tried to deceive Sensei, but it was the first time he'd ever really wanted—no, needed—to.

Because he'd never seen the scar before in his life...but something was telling him that it was tremendously important.


Later, in the ship, Harry was sleeping. Many thousands of light-years away, a man who by this time wasn't sure what his name was but thought of himself as Constellation pushed against a barrier, as he'd been doing for years. He pushed, grunting, not really expecting it to give way but pushing anyway, from sheer bloodymindedness.

It broke, and suddenly, unexpectedly, he shifted.

Huh, he thought, surprised, as he moved around. That's not what the memories say...