Chapter 1
A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, two Jedi sat in a small flat boat in a swamp populated with what looked like Cypress trees.
"Did you feel that?" asked the startled young Padawan. Higra Viaus was only 15 years old, but she was well trained in the Jedi arts and advanced beyond most of her own age.
"I did," replied Harsa. Jedi master Harsa Antyl was like a father to Higra. Although Higra had trained in the Jedi temple since she was six years old, Harsa had trained her personally for many of those years and he adopted her as his Padawan learner when she was eleven.
"What was it?" Higra asked.
"It was a disturbance in the force," came the reply.
"But what does it mean?" Higra knew vaguely what it meant, but such was her respect for Harsa that she always deferred to him and sought his council.
"It means something is wrong. Or will be."
"What do you mean, 'will be'?" This part, Higra did not understand.
"It is not wise to speculate about the future, but this disturbance is especially strong."
"But mustn't we prepare for the future? Aren't all promptings from the force somehow future-directed? Master Luke says the future-directedness of the force is why we appear to have such fast reflexes."
"Yes," Harsa conceded, "but this is very different. Tell me, Higra, how is this disturbance different to you than others you have felt?"
"It's hard to explain, master Antyl." Higra furrowed her eyebrows and gazed through the shadows of the trees on the water.
"Be mindful of what the force is telling you," Harsa urged.
"That's just it," Higra said as she turned back to Harsa. "It lingers and trails off as if it were a distant echo. Yet it's strong as if exploding inside my head."
"Yes," Harsa responded encouragingly. "What else?"
"I feel that this disturbance is not only temporally distant, but also spatially distant."
"That is also what I feel. In fact, it must concern another galaxy some eight thousand years in the future."
"But why? Why should the force will that we should feel such a distant disturbance? Master Luke said the force permeates everything but only gives us glimpses according to its will and our part in it. What part could we possibly have in something so remote?"
"That's a good question," Harsa said. "We must speak with the Jedi council. We must speak with Luke."
Higra smiled. "I was really enjoying it out here. It's peaceful. May we stay a little longer?"
Harsa smiled back. Higra was like a daughter to Harsa. The old Jedi order discouraged attachments, which Luke and Leia felt was a mistake. Harsa had become quite attached to Higra and cherished the rare moments of serenity they enjoyed while not brandishing light sabers or chasing cosmic outlaws through dangerous asteroid fields. Higra especially liked wooded areas, and the swamplands on New Alderaan seemed to her to be as far away from trouble as it was possible for a Jedi to get.
New Alderaan was a terraformed planet where the survivers of Old Alderaan set up colonies. Though not as populated as Old Alderaan, the terraforming was wildly successful. Higra thought it was beautiful, and Harsa agreed. Higra's grandparents were from Old Alderaan, but they were lucky enough not to have been there when it was destroyed by the Death Star.
Or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it. They certainly didn't feel lucky at the time, being two of maybe 120,000 left of their kind in the galaxy. They were now members of an endangered species.
It had only been a little over a year since the infamous Battle of Hogwarts when He-Who-Must-Now-Be-Named met a sticky end.
"It is good to see things finally getting back to normal," Ginny said just before sipping her latte at The Kitty Cat coffee shop. "Harry and I stopped by Olivander's on our way over here, and he was just as quirky as I remember him being when I first bought my wand."
"Oh, how is he?" Hermione enthusiastically inquired. She turned to Ron. "We have to go see him. I always liked him."
Harry smiled at Hermione. "He's his old self, for sure. He jokingly said to me, 'I wondered when I'd be seeing you again, Mr. Potter,'" Harry spoke with his best impression of Mr. Olivander's mysterious seriousness.
"I always liked Diagon Alley," Harry continued. "Besides Hagrid, it's the first part of the wizarding world I ever saw, and it was like Christmas. Whenever I come here, I still feel like it's the first time, and now it seems better than ever. I like seeing the people. I like how nobody is afraid to say 'Voldemort' anymore."
"You mean He-Who-Must-Now-Be-Named?" Ron said with a wry grin. Many people had taken to calling him that. Poking fun at their previous fears was a way of healing from the devastation that still cast a shadow over many witches and wizards, the Weasley's especially.
"How is George?" Hermione asked cautiously, not knowing how sore of a subject it might be. She and Ron had been in America for the last few months, and they were out of the loop. But she figured Fred's death would be hardest on George, and she thought of him often.
"Quite good, actually," said Ginny. Then she looked at Ron as if bursting with excitement. "Ron, the craziest thing has happened. Fred is a ghost. He appeared at Hogwarts recently."
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.
"George and everybody thought it was a sick joke at first, but it's true. Apparently, he had unfinished business. We haven't figured out whether it's to help George or to terrorize Hogwarts, though. But anyway, he talked George into reopening Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."
"That's fantastic!" Hermione said. "Oh, Ron, we have to go see him!"
"He's giving old Peeves a run for his money," Harry said. "Fred's a worse prankster now that he's dead than he was when he was alive."
"Why didn't anybody tell me about this?" Ron said. "You could've sent an owl or something."
"Because we wanted you to be here when you heard the news," Ginny replied. "Besides, it hasn't been that long. Things have really turned around for George. Mum and Dad have mixed feelings about it."
"Why?" Ron asked.
"Well, they feel like he's not reallyback, you know. He's just a shadow of himself. And they think it's sad that he's sort of lingering in some between world, neither part of this one nor the next."
"Kind of like the empty train station," Harry remarked. Everybody looked at him. He continued. "When Voldemort used the avada kedavracurse on me in the forbidden forest, I found myself in what looked like King's Crossing with Dumbledore who told me I could choose to board a train and move on if I wanted. He was vague about what 'on' meant. But it was like a between world, and I wasn't sure whether I was really dead or not. I only knew I didn't want to stay there."
"Well, if it keeps George sane, I think he absolutely belongs," Ron said. "And who better than Fred to keep Hogwarts interesting? Does he stay in Hogwarts all the time?" Ron asked.
"Not all the time," said Ginny. "He shows up for dinner and teases Mum for not setting a place for him at the table. And when she doesset a place for him, he pretends that Mum is taunting him since he can't eat it. He never gives that poor woman a break. He'll probably be there tonight, and you and Hermione can see him. I can't wait!"
"Blimey!" Ron said.
"Look at it!" Hermione said when she and Ron arrived outside the new Weasley home. "It looks just like it's been there for ages."
"Yeah," said Ron with a sigh. "It looks like home."
Hermione squeezed his hand, and they shared a smile before walking in.
"Uuuugh!" moaned George from the living room sofa.
"George? Is that you?" Ron asked as he quickly went to check on him. George's face was white and pasty with sores in various places. He was wrapped in a quilt.
"You look awful, mate," Ron said. "What's the matter? You got the flu?"
"Worse than that, I'm afraid," George whispered. "Had an accident today while creating a new potion for the store. Mum and Dad have gone to find Professor Slughorn. He's the only one who might know how to counter-act it."
"Can we do anything?" asked Hermione.
"I'm afraid not," came the reply. "I've really done it this time. It was supposed to be a sleeping potion, but it's slowly shutting down all my vital organs. It's gotten worse and worse over the last couple of hours, and I don't know if I can hold on much longer."
"George," Ron said as he dropped to his knees and took his hand. "Hang in there, mate. Professor Slughorn can fix this. They'll be back before you know it."
"Ron…" said George.
"Yeah?"
"Tell Mum and Dad I love them."
"Tell them yourself, stupid." He looked back at Hermione who stood shaking and in tears.
Then George stiffened, took a deep breath, held it for a few second, closed his eyes, and slowly exhaled. When he didn't immediately take another breath, Hermione yelled, "No! Don't do this to us, George! Don't do this to your family!"
Just then, a silvery white ghost rose out of George into the air. It floated to the ceiling. Ron and Hermione took a few steps back and watched.
"George?" Ron said.
"Gotcha!" Fred replied. George sat bolt upright on the couch, and they both laughed at Hermione and Ron.
"Sick, sick, sick!" Hermione said, still sobbing. "How cruel and heartless can you be!"
"My brothers," said Ron, shaking his head.
"Well after being dead, I had to make a grand entrance, don't you think?" Fred said, as chipper as you please.
"Come here!" Hermione said as she went to hug Fred, but she fell right through him headlong into the couch.
Ron finally managed a smile, still shaking his head. "You two are a menace! Will you ever stop?"
"Never!" they both said in harmony. George stood up and hugged Ron. Fred put his ghostly arms around both of them. "Come on in," he said to Hermione who obliged.
"It's so good to see you!" Hermione said.
"It's nice to be back home," Fred said, "but honestly, I've never enjoyed Hogwarts so much!"
"Where are Mum and Dad, really?" Ron asked.
"Oh, they really did go see Professor Slughorn," George said. "That part was true." He was wiping the make up off his face with a towel. "They'll be back shortly. They know you're here."
Hermione said, "Fred, I don't mean to be insensitive, but I'm really curious. Why did you stay?"
"Because I thought if I go, you all would just sit around talking to my photographs. My photographs would talk back! I couldn't have that. What if they got things wrong? Or worse, what if they got things right and told you all my dirty little secrets? So I had to come back to defend myself against my own pictures." He put his hand on his chin. "It never struck me as weird until now that pictures can talk."
"You have a point," Hermione said, then turned to Ron. "Can you imagine how Crazy Horse would feel about that?"
"Who's Crazy Horse?" asked Fred.
"Oh," said Ron, "He's a native American who fought for the Sioux at the Battle of Little Bighorn in the 1870's. He never would let anybody take his picture because he thought it would steal his soul."
Fred and George smiled at each other. "We could have some fun with somebody like that."
"Well, it certainly is good to have Ron and Hermione back," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "Let's eat." Instead of asking Ron and Hermione about the trip, he turned to Harry and said, "So, Harry, where were we?"
"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked.
"I had asked you what the function was of a rubber duck, and I don't recall finishing that conversation."
"I remember that," Harry laughed. "I thought you must be joking."
"Oh, I never joke when it comes to muggle artifacts, Harry."
Hermione piped in, "Does anyone else think it's strange that Mr. Weasley knows so little about muggles in spite of his fascination with them?" The room became awkwardly silent, and everyone looked either at Hermione or at Mr. Weasley. When Hermione could wait no longer for a response, she said, "I just find it curious is all. Whenever I'm interested in something, I want to read all about it."
"Yes," Mr. Weasley said, "but there's only so much you can learn from books about people. It's one thing to read about dragons. It's another to live among them."
Hermione smiled, and Ron rolled his eyes.
Molly furrowed her eyebrows, "Is there a bee in your bonnet, Miss Granger?" Hermione looked at Ron who only shrugged. "Well, what is it?" Molly asked.
"Tell us," George and Fred harmonized.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking. When Ron and I were in America, we visited a few universities."
"That was Hermione's idea," said Ron sheepishly.
"Yes," Hermione agreed. "It got me to thinking how unconventional our educations are in the wizarding world."
Arthur responded, "I'm sure muggle educations are unconventional by our standards."
"That's true," Hermione conceded, "but I wonder…" She paused. "I wonder if we've missed out on some things."
"I don't feel like I've missed out on anything," Harry said. "Do you know how many muggles would love to have gone to Hogwarts? That's the sort of stuff fantasy novels are made of!" Harry looked for a moment as if to second guess himself. "Of course our experience was more traumatic than most generations, but still fascinating from a muggle perspective."
"Harry," said Hermione, "you should know where I'm coming from. We both grew up in two different worlds, and we've seen both sides of it."
Harry interrupted. "In spite of all the hardship I've had since finding out I'm a wizard, I wouldn't trade any of it to be a muggle."
Hermione looked sympathetic. "I forget sometimes what your childhood was like, and I suppose it's unfair to assume it was anything like mine."
Harry didn't say anything.
Hermione continued. "What I mean is that you know there's a whole different world out there and things to know that we didn't learn about in Hogwarts. Instead of taking math, science, literature, and so on, we took potions, defense against the dark arts, and transformations classes. Granted, we took history, but it was very selective history. We only addressed muggle history insofar as it overlapped with our own."
Harry said, "The French probably know more about French history than the Chinese. American's probably know more about American history than the Spanish. It stands to reason that witches and wizards would know more about their own history than about everybody else's."
Hermione replied. "But I feel like muggle historyismy history. Both of my parents were muggles, and both of their families are muggles through and through as far as I know."
Harry began to speak, but Molly held up her hand to him and said, "Hermione is trying to tell us something. I want to know where she's going with this."
"So do I," Ginny said, though she had a feeling she already knew.
"Ron and I have decided to attend an American university. Brown University, to be exact."
"It was her idea," Ron said. "She talked me into it."
"Why would you want to do that?" Arthur asked Ron.
"Well, Dad, Hermione has a point. I didn't see it until we went to America, but we've been living in a wizarding bubble our whole lives. And like you said, it's one thing to read about people; it's another thing to live among them. I'm not saying I want to bea muggle or anything, but I definitely want to broaden my horizons."
"How would you get in?" asked Ginny. "You don't have any muggle transcripts, so you wouldn't even make it past admissions."
Hermione smiled and looked at Fred who was hovering behind Harry and Ginny. She thought he and George would not be able to resist the urge to circumvent a few rules, and recruiting them to help would get them on her side. Fred looked confused. He said, "You don't expect me to get you in, do you? I'm a ghost. We don't have that kind of clout."
"No," said, Hermione, "but you and George are clever. You found a way to sneak in and out of Hogwarts unnoticed. You found a way to get past the enchantment surrounding the goblet of fire. Surely it would be simple for you to figure out a way to get Ron and me into Brown University."
"Of course we can!" George said. "Fred?"
"Of course we can!" said Fred.
"It's settled, then," Hermione said.
Ginny asked, "Have you figured out what you're going to major in?"
"I haven't," said Ron. "I really don't know all the options. This is all new to me."
"I'm going to major in philosophy," said Hermione. "It's completely impractical, but perfectly cerebral."
"You know what?" said Arthur. He looked at Molly. Then he looked back at Ron. "I support you. I think this will be good for you. You'll be like exchange students, and what could be more exotic? We can come visit you, and you can teach us all about muggles."
After dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went for a walk.
"So, why an American school?" Harry asked. "Fred and George could probably get you into Oxford or Cambridge if you really wanted. There are plenty of muggles at Oxford."
"I'm sure I could get myselfinto any school I wanted," Hermione said. "I just wanted them on my side. But to answer your question, I could use a change of scenery. Can you imagine having your parents right there and not being able to have a relationship with them because they don't even know who you are? It's as if I never existed to them."
"I wouldn't know," Harry replied. "I never knew my parents at all. But at least you have memories with them. At least you got to grow up with them."
Hermione pierced him with her eyes and raised her voice. "It's not a competition, Harry! I would never claim my pain is the same kind of yours, but don't pretend like other people don't have pain just because they don't have yours!"
"Whoa!" Harry said. "That's not what I meant. I was just trying to look at the bright side. I think you have something to be thankful for in spite of your loss."
Ron took Hermione's hand. She had told him all about how after the battle of Hogwarts, she would go to all the places she knew her parents liked to go and how she would sometimes see them but would never speak to them. She would just watch them and grieve. Ron tried to imagine what that must be like and wished there was some way to undo the memory charm. Why couldn't Hermione have removed their memories and preserved them in a pensieve until after Voldemort was gone? Then she could restore them. Why the obliviatespell, which wiped them completely out of existence? He never pressed her on that question, mostly for fear it would cause her even more grief when she realized her tragic mistake, but partly because he was afraid there'd be a perfectly logical explanation that would just make him feel stupid once Hermione pointed it out to him.
"I don't think I could've done it, Harry," Ron said. "Hermione is brave. She's a true Gryffindor."
"Always will be," Harry agreed.
"But did you ever wonder why the hat didn't put her in Ravenclaw? She's bloody brilliant, and nobody liked to study more than she did. She's more of a Ravenclaw than most Ravenclaws."
"Hmm." Harry scratched his head to help stimulate thought. "That's an interesting thought. I suppose she's even more brave than she is clever."
"You forget," Hermione chimed in, "that the hat takes your own wishes into account."
Harry and Ron both nodded with understanding.
"Well, it worked out great for me." Ron smiled with satisfaction.
"It worked out great for both of us," Harry said. "Her cleverness has gotten us out of a jam more than once."
Hermione said, "I guess the bigger question is why Ron got put in Gryffindor." Harry and Ron looked at her befuddled. "I mean considering his morbid fear of spiders and seemingly everything else. You must've really wanted to get into Gryffindor, Ron."
"Ha! Yeah, I was afraid of spiders, and the Chamber of Secrets, and all sorts of other things, but I never let my fears stop me. I went all the way into Aragon's cave, spiders everywhere."
"That's true," said Hermione, "but look how long it took you to ask me out."
Harry laughed. "She's got you there, Ron!"