AN: A note to people about the Omakes. I use both canon and non-canon Omakes. Non-canon ones are just little snippets that are there for amusement, little things about humorous ways a situation could have gone. The Canon ones, such as those already used in this story, are an actual part of the story but separate from the main body as they don't pertain to Harry's current situation in the world of Star Wars.

AN2: The idea for the lightsabers is that in the original VHS of episode 4 the blades for the lightsabers looked extremely wavy, hence this snippet.

Shadow of the Force

Chapter 8

-Harry-

Standing inside the officer's lounge he looked at the doors to where Luke and the old man were asleep, "Marris, go wake up Luke." He ordered "Galen, get the old man. It's training time." Smirking at him the two nodded, looking forward to ripping the two from the pleasant clutch of sleep. Moments later two yells carried out from the rooms, one old and indignant and the other young and mortified.

"Harry," Oola attempted to chide him but was unable to hide her amusement "you know Luke was crushing on Marris, that was just mean."

"Funny though," he gave an unrepentant shrug "I'm not sure whether Luke is lucky or unlucky that Marris is still as dense as a Jedi about romance." Oola's only response was a roll of her eyes as her fellow officers exited the guests' rooms.

"The old timer said they'd meet us at the training room." Galen chuckled, patting the little white and blue R2 unit's head "This little guy can show them the way." Nodding the four made their way to the large room covered in blast shields, the still tired duo of Luke and Obi-Wan following in a few minutes later under the cheerful guidance of R2-D2.

"Alright," Harry asked, turning to face Luke as the old man eased into a chair "do you have your own lightsaber yet?" nodding proudly Luke pulled out a silver rod and activated it, a wavering blue beam burning into existence. "Turn that thing off now!" he yelled, startling Luke and Obi-Wan as the young farm boy quickly shut off the old weapon.

"W-what's wrong?" Luke stammered out, his young friend having rarely if ever heard him yell.

"That thing clearly hasn't been taken care of." Moving quickly, he took the lightsaber from Luke's hands and walked over to a wall safe "And I'm not going to risk the explosion this thing could cause due to it not being maintained. We'll fix it up later if you still want to use it," placing his hand on a scanner he opened the safe that popped open "for now you'll use one of these." Placing the old lightsaber inside he grabbed one of the several others inside the safe and tossed it to Luke "It's close enough in size to the other one so changing back won't be that big of a problem."

Nodding, still somewhat shaken by the unexpected shout, Luke activated the black beamed lightsaber, this one's blade solid and unwavering as it let out it's smoke like aura. "How's it feel?" Marris asked as Luke got a feel for the powerful weapon "Well balanced?"

"It's perfect." Luke grinned, as giddy as a child at the prospect of the imminent training.

"Wait till you make your own that's truly connected to you," he chuckled "anyway, onto your training. There are several forms of lightsaber combat and I'll be showing you parts from Soresu, a primarily defensive style, and a variation of Vaapad, a highly offensive style. It will be up to you to choose a style to focus on above all or to do as most of us do and follow the universal way."

"The what?" the old man asked, speaking up for the first time. At the mention of Vaapad, something the Jedi had forbidden to use, the man had clearly been displeased but held his tongue for the time, much to his surprise. Confusion was apparently too much for his silence as the befuddled old Jedi spoke up.

"It's a concept from my home world," Harry explained "where there were several forms of unarmed combat. A pair of masters decided that the best form of combat isn't an existing style but for each individual user to make their own style. It has to be tailored to them, designed just for their own build and personality, with pieces taken from all other styles. It has its faults, that being that it isn't a set style a master can train you in and be able to readily gauge your progress and in that way, it is lesser than other styles. At the same time however, it is harder to predict as there are no set motions or techniques for it to learn and counter making the user unpredictable."

Luke was star eyed and eager at that description while Obi-Wan was thoughtful, "An interesting philosophy. I'm partial to my own style but I can see the wisdom in your method." The old man gave him a wry smile "If it weren't for the protests from these old bones I'd rather enjoy challenging you myself to see how it does."

"Just don't push yourself too far old timer," he grinned "Luke still needs you around."

"So, this Vaapad thing," Luke spoke up, turning the lightsaber off as a precaution "why a variation, why not the original?"

"The original Vaapad was known to corrupt those who used it," Obi-Wan educated "it involved a constant and sizeable stream of the force from the user along with the user needing to relish not only winning the fight but the act of fighting itself. It is the most vicious of all lightsaber forms, filled with fury and malice. I'm not sure how you would have adapted it apart from the way of the once Jedi Master Mace Windu who drew upon the rage of the user's opponent."

"All accurate," he nodded, mentally snickering as Luke and Obi-Wan both looked surprised at his agreement "but my adaption is different from that of Master Windu. Both versions of Vaapad known to the Jedi involved malice and rage. For the original they had tried to use the constant rage and malice but control it to keep themselves. Master Windu drew upon the malice of others but that too was dangerous. My way is in part because I do not divide the force into light and dark. The force is neither, it simply is. Much like a lightsaber it is neither good nor evil, it is the user who falls into those categories. I pour raw passion into the connection to the force. I pour righteous anger, a drive to win, a drive to protect, my will to survive. Raw rage is what makes the original Vaapad so corruptive."

"I…will wait and see." Obi-Wan clearly didn't' like the concept but after the argument the night before the man likely didn't want to rush in blindly about things.

"Now that lightsaber is good for training against droids to deflect blasters or to use in an actual fight. For sparring and training we use these." Moving to a stand he grabbed a couple of lightsabers with a royal purple band around the hilt, tossing one to Luke who activated it to find a much duller blade "These will sting and stun but won't cut through anyone."

"Sweet." Luke grinned "Now what do we start wi-Ah!" reacting quickly Luke brought his saber up to black a slash he delivered to the young farm boy.

"Good reflexes." He complimented cheerfully, giving the practice saber a loose spin "We'll be focusing on defense to begin with as keeping you alive is more important at the current moment. Now let's see what you can do on your own." With that he began a flurry of strikes upon the panicking farm boy.

"Arm up!" a yelp was the response.

"Your stance is too wide!" the sound of a practice saber zapping against flesh punctuated his remark.

"Actually try blocking!" on and on in continued as the audience laughed at the sight of a rookie being put through the ropes.

-Omake-

-Marcus-

Harry.

That one name had been on the lips of everyone he knew ever since the fiasco with the mirror and Voldemort revealing the truth. Scowling he looked down at his finger, at the heir's ring of the Potter family which Harry had left behind. "I don't deserve this." He sighed, taking the ring off and placing it on the wardrobe in front of him.

Right now, he was in his brother's old room, looking through it as his parents argued downstairs with others about what should be done with the current situation about Voldemort. There had been a divide growing between what had once been a solid faction under the leadership of Albus Dumbledore. One side still held an unwavering faith in the ancient wizard, seeing him as the best hope for facing the inevitable return of Voldemort.

The other group, of which one Nymphadora Tonks was a member of, was of the opinion that Dumbledore brought their current situation upon them. They knew of his brother's departure and survival, given that the position of Heir black still belonged to him much to Malfoy's displeasure, and were focused on recovering Harry. Tonks had recently gone through her old journals and realized that she had been good friends with Harry for the first few years of Hogwarts but that their friendship had ended partway through. The metamorph had insisted that someone must have memory charmed her to forget something like she had, although she refused to say exactly what the full situation was, but no one could find any traces of any such magic.

"They're all fools." He scowled angrily, before letting it out with a sigh, "And I'm one of the biggest." Dumbledore wasn't the answer, the man's time had long since passed and he was no longer fit to lead the wizarding world. At the same time though the man wasn't some sort of evil mastermind, manipulating things to ruin the life of one person nobody thought important.

"I can see why you left Harry." He let out a strained chuckle, trailing his hands across the spines of his brother's old books. That was true, after his world had been brought crumbling down by Voldemort and his parents spent all their time planning with Dumbledore he had been left alone in the manor, alone with just his thoughts. For hours he had spent remembering his past, remembering what he could of his older brother and he began to see why Harry had left, "We didn't deserve you."

Stopping at one book he glanced at it, the spine feeling different from the rest. Glancing he saw it was a plain leather journal. Unable to resist the siren's call of his curiosity Marcus opened it, flipping through the pages. It was a list of theories, spell concepts, exercise plans, potion recipes. Seeing it all his eyes hardened.

"I may not be prophesied to kill Voldemort." His voice was horse as he closed the journal with a snap "He may very well kill me in the end." Shoving the journal into his pocket he strode back to his own room with renewed purpose "But I'll be damned if I just roll over and take it. If that bastard wants to kill me then he'll have to fight for it." Getting to his room he dropped to the ground and started doing push ups like he saw listed in Harry's workout regiment in the journal.

"One…two…three."