Chapter Four
If the Dursleys had owned a mirror like those in a wizarding household, the mirror would have had much to say regarding the actions of one fifteen-year-old wizard as he watched breathlessly as the events throughout the original Star Wars Trilogy unfolded. "Your jaw bone does not belong under the coffee table, boy," the mirror might have said. Or maybe it would be "Mr. Potter, your eyeballs do not belong on the living room wall but in your head". As it was, there was no one or no magical object to appreciate Harry Potter's fascination as he worked his way through one Star Wars film after another. To the Boy Who Lived, it felt as if he was personally living through the events of the movies. He watched with bated breath as the heroes managed to escape from Tattooine; he cried out in horror as the Death Star obliterated Alderaan; a grin of delight made its way on to his face as he appreciated Han Solo's and Obi-Wan Kenobi's skill in evading certain capture once aboard the Death Star. Every single action that seemed to happen to the main characters brought a reaction from the captivated boy. He felt a shattering sensation inside his chest as the evil lord, Darth Vader, cut down the old man Kenobi with his glowing red lightsaber. He jolted in shock as the old man's body disappeared in to thin air. He was just as amazed as Luke Skywalker to hear the voice of Kenobi, after being cut down, speak out clearly "run Luke, run".
On and on he continued, watching as the Death Star was destroyed, stopping only long enough to switch tapes. He continued working his way through the next film, paying special attention to anything that mentioned the Force; after all, was he not supposed to begin training with said energy field that very night? His heart lurched as Vader's trap was sprung in Cloud City; he cheered silently as Luke was able to trip Vader and force him in to some pipes in the carbon freezing chamber. He again marveled at Luke's stupidity in following the Sith instead of using that opportunity to retreat. Wisdom, Harry had decided long ago, was knowing when you were outclassed and having enough common sense to get away if you could. Not, he had to admit to himself, that he'd always followed his own advice. He had to think back no further than the Chamber of Secrets to understand why Luke pursued Vader. It was to try and buy his friends time to escape.
Shortly thereafter, he silently cheered as Luke scored a hit to Vader's shoulder with his lightsaber, then almost immediately cringed in sympathetic pain as a single stroke from the older man's blade sliced the young hero's hand off at the wrist.
Harry followed carefully as Luke was tempted by Vader, and, like the former, was absolutely revolted and terrified at Vader's revelation of being Luke's father. He was gripping the arms of his chair with knuckles whitening as Luke and his friends made a harrowing escape in the Millennium Falcon just seconds before the tractor beam was able to ensnare them.
By the time that all three movies were over, Harry was so shaken with emotion that he sat where he was, breathing heavily for many minutes. Luke Skywalker? Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Vader; all of them, Jedi or some twisted version of the same. What had made Vader become the twisted evil being that Kenobi had described? Was it some errant flaw in all would-be Jedi? Did he, Harry Potter, possess the ability to turn on all of those that he cared about and serve someone just to advance some hidden desire for power?
He didn't think so. It would be a question to ask Kenobi in their next session. He didn't feel dark. But did that really mean anything?
Deciding that he would be unable to get any answers for the time being, he decided to work on clearing his mind as his teacher had told him to do. Slowly, focusing on a single point on the edge of the nearest coffee table, he let his mind clear. It was not easy, not with all of the concerns and excitement of what he had just witnessed. Slowly, he felt his mind emptying of all anxiety and worry. He felt peaceful, calm, tranquil. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted it was A similar feeling to the imperius curse. But unlike the imperius curse, this felt clean and untainted, almost alive. It felt like he could do anything, and this was a feeling he both relished and needed.
Slowly through the euphoria of his Force trance, he began to see images. At first, they were just blurs, (a modest two-story house with a sign at the end of the driveway stating that this was "Godric's Hollow", a ramshackle house that looked like a stack of mismatched building blocks that Harry knew as The Burrow, and many more), then they began to slow down.
He saw a run-down hut in the middle of a seeming desert of sand. The sunlight bouncing off the barren landscape was so bright that Harry could barely make out a lone figure kneeling in the sand against the most sheltered corner of the small building. He appeared to be working on a small mechanical device. As Harry watched, he saw him fit several small crystal pieces together into a slender and elegantly shaped cylinder. He saw the man's hands move with extreme care and growing confidence as he made some final adjustments to the handle and then closed it with a snap. It was only when he rose to his feet, pausing for a moment to stretch out the kinks from being in a kneeling position for such a long period of time, that Harry realized what he was seeing.
He was seeing Luke Skywalker, and the handle that he was constructing was, Harry felt sure, his first true lightsaber, not the pale blue blade that belonged to Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, but the vibrant and alive green that Harry had come to believe signified Luke's own true personality. Sure enough, it was a brilliant green that appeared when Luke activated the newly constructed lightsaber, giving it an experimental wave to test the balance and weight.
And then, the vision began to fade.
The blowing sand and lone Jedi was replaced by the emaculate yet depressing interior of the living room of Number Four, Privet Drive.
Harry stretched, feeling amazingly refreshed and alive. Glancing toward the window, he was greatly surprised to see the sun just breaking over the treetops to the east. To Harry, it had only seemed like he had been in the meditative trance for about an hour, yet in reality, a whole night had passed.
Harry took only a moment to admire the rising sun before striding rapidly up the stairs and back to his room. The vision was fresh in his mind, and the time to act on what he had seen was now. He had the strong feeling that Obi-Wan had guided him to the vision for a reason, and it was now up to him to fulfill his master's wish.
It was only a matter of moments to retrieve the mysterious package that had arrived for him on his birthday from under the loose floorboard in his bedroom. Emptying its contents on to his bed, he was not at all surprised to see the makings of a lightsaber spread out before him. He took a moment to admire the beauty of the crystal, the intricacy of the wires, and the perfection of the handle before him before drawing in a deep breath and sinking to his knees.
He had a lightsaber to construct. He had no replacement parts, and he knew that failure was not an option. If he damaged any of the parts of his weapon, he had the distinct feeling that he would never find the parts to try again.
Saying a last fervent prayer to the Force, to Merlin, any entity that would listen, Harry began to work.
Four hours later, sweaty, hungry, shirt sticking to his skin with sweat, Harry finally straightened up, a beautifully crafted silver handle with black markings down the sides clutched in his right hand.
"That was intense," Harry stated out loud. Hedwig hooted in agreement from her cage in the corner as if in agreement.
"Well, no sense in waiting, is there, Hedwig?"
Again, a hoot in response.
Shifting his other hand to the saber as well, Harry took a deep breath and pressed the button set in to the grip.
A snap-hiss sounded, and the blade shot out with a brilliant glow. Harry stared in awe at the blade. he had secretly believed that the blade of a lightsaber would reflect the true core of its maker's soul. Vader's blade was red (which Harry associated with anger and greed); Anakin's blade had been pale blue as though he had been a peaceful man yet someone who was insecure deep inside. Luke's bright green blade was to Harry a signal of growth. Luke had started as a naive boy from a back water farm on a desert planet and matured in a very short span of time in to someone who had been hit with more than his fair share of tragedies and had done his best to learn from his mistakes. The green signified his maturing in to the makings of a fine Jedi knight.
And all of these thoughts which had been on Harry's mind when he activated his blade were also the basis for his consternation. He couldn't imagine what his blade could possibly show.
The blade was pure gold.
If the Dursleys had owned a mirror like those in a wizarding household, the mirror would have had much to say regarding the actions of one fifteen-year-old wizard as he watched breathlessly as the events throughout the original Star Wars Trilogy unfolded. "Your jaw bone does not belong under the coffee table, boy," the mirror might have said. Or maybe it would be "Mr. Potter, your eyeballs do not belong on the living room wall but in your head". As it was, there was no one or no magical object to appreciate Harry Potter's fascination as he worked his way through one Star Wars film after another. To the Boy Who Lived, it felt as if he was personally living through the events of the movies. He watched with bated breath as the heroes managed to escape from Tattooine; he cried out in horror as the Death Star obliterated Alderaan; a grin of delight made its way on to his face as he appreciated Han Solo's and Obi-Wan Kenobi's skill in evading certain capture once aboard the Death Star. Every single action that seemed to happen to the main characters brought a reaction from the captivated boy. He felt a shattering sensation inside his chest as the evil lord, Darth Vader, cut down the old man Kenobi with his glowing red lightsaber. He jolted in shock as the old man's body disappeared in to thin air. He was just as amazed as Luke Skywalker to hear the voice of Kenobi, after being cut down, speak out clearly "run Luke, run".
On and on he continued, watching as the Death Star was destroyed, stopping only long enough to switch tapes. He continued working his way through the next film, paying special attention to anything that mentioned the Force; after all, was he not supposed to begin training with said energy field that very night? His heart lurched as Vader's trap was sprung in Cloud City; he cheered silently as Luke was able to trip Vader and force him in to some pipes in the carbon freezing chamber. He again marveled at Luke's stupidity in following the Sith instead of using that opportunity to retreat. Wisdom, Harry had decided long ago, was knowing when you were outclassed and having enough common sense to get away if you could. Not, he had to admit to himself, that he'd always followed his own advice. He had to think back no further than the Chamber of Secrets to understand why Luke pursued Vader. It was to try and buy his friends time to escape.
Shortly thereafter, he silently cheered as Luke scored a hit to Vader's shoulder with his lightsaber, then almost immediately cringed in sympathetic pain as a single stroke from the older man's blade sliced the young hero's hand off at the wrist.
Harry followed carefully as Luke was tempted by Vader, and, like the former, was absolutely revolted and terrified at Vader's revelation of being Luke's father. He was gripping the arms of his chair with knuckles whitening as Luke and his friends made a harrowing escape in the Millennium Falcon just seconds before the tractor beam was able to ensnare them.
By the time that all three movies were over, Harry was so shaken with emotion that he sat where he was, breathing heavily for many minutes. Luke Skywalker? Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Vader; all of them, Jedi or some twisted version of the same. What had made Vader become the twisted evil being that Kenobi had described? Was it some errant flaw in all would-be Jedi? Did he, Harry Potter, possess the ability to turn on all of those that he cared about and serve someone just to advance some hidden desire for power?
He didn't think so. It would be a question to ask Kenobi in their next session. He didn't feel dark. But did that really mean anything?
Deciding that he would be unable to get any answers for the time being, he decided to work on clearing his mind as his teacher had told him to do. Slowly, focusing on a single point on the edge of the nearest coffee table, he let his mind clear. It was not easy, not with all of the concerns and excitement of what he had just witnessed. Slowly, he felt his mind emptying of all anxiety and worry. He felt peaceful, calm, tranquil. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted it was A similar feeling to the imperius curse. But unlike the imperius curse, this felt clean and untainted, almost alive. It felt like he could do anything, and this was a feeling he both relished and needed.
Slowly through the euphoria of his Force trance, he began to see images. At first, they were just blurs, (a modest two-story house with a sign at the end of the driveway stating that this was "Godric's Hollow", a ramshackle house that looked like a stack of mismatched building blocks that Harry knew as The Burrow, and many more), then they began to slow down.
He saw a run-down hut in the middle of a seeming desert of sand. The sunlight bouncing off the barren landscape was so bright that Harry could barely make out a lone figure kneeling in the sand against the most sheltered corner of the small building. He appeared to be working on a small mechanical device. As Harry watched, he saw him fit several small crystal pieces together into a slender and elegantly shaped cylinder. He saw the man's hands move with extreme care and growing confidence as he made some final adjustments to the handle and then closed it with a snap. It was only when he rose to his feet, pausing for a moment to stretch out the kinks from being in a kneeling position for such a long period of time, that Harry realized what he was seeing.
He was seeing Luke Skywalker, and the handle that he was constructing was, Harry felt sure, his first true lightsaber, not the pale blue blade that belonged to Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, but the vibrant and alive green that Harry had come to believe signified Luke's own true personality. Sure enough, it was a brilliant green that appeared when Luke activated the newly constructed lightsaber, giving it an experimental wave to test the balance and weight.
And then, the vision began to fade.
The blowing sand and lone Jedi was replaced by the emaculate yet depressing interior of the living room of Number Four, Privet Drive.
Harry stretched, feeling amazingly refreshed and alive. Glancing toward the window, he was greatly surprised to see the sun just breaking over the treetops to the east. To Harry, it had only seemed like he had been in the meditative trance for about an hour, yet in reality, a whole night had passed.
Harry took only a moment to admire the rising sun before striding rapidly up the stairs and back to his room. The vision was fresh in his mind, and the time to act on what he had seen was now. He had the strong feeling that Obi-Wan had guided him to the vision for a reason, and it was now up to him to fulfill his master's wish.
It was only a matter of moments to retrieve the mysterious package that had arrived for him on his birthday from under the loose floorboard in his bedroom. Emptying its contents on to his bed, he was not at all surprised to see the makings of a lightsaber spread out before him. He took a moment to admire the beauty of the crystal, the intricacy of the wires, and the perfection of the handle before him before drawing in a deep breath and sinking to his knees.
He had a lightsaber to construct. He had no replacement parts, and he knew that failure was not an option. If he damaged any of the parts of his weapon, he had the distinct feeling that he would never find the parts to try again.
Saying a last fervent prayer to the Force, to Merlin, any entity that would listen, Harry began to work.
Four hours later, sweaty, hungry, shirt sticking to his skin with sweat, Harry finally straightened up, a beautifully crafted silver handle with black markings down the sides clutched in his right hand.
"That was intense," Harry stated out loud. Hedwig hooted in agreement from her cage in the corner as if in agreement.
"Well, no sense in waiting, is there, Hedwig?"
Again, a hoot in response.
Shifting his other hand to the saber as well, Harry took a deep breath and pressed the button set in to the grip.
A snap-hiss sounded, and the blade shot out with a brilliant glow. Harry stared in awe at the blade. he had secretly believed that the blade of a lightsaber would reflect the true core of its maker's soul. Vader's blade was red (which Harry associated with anger and greed); Anakin's blade had been pale blue as though he had been a peaceful man yet someone who was insecure deep inside. Luke's bright green blade was to Harry a signal of growth. Luke had started as a naive boy from a back water farm on a desert planet and matured in a very short span of time in to someone who had been hit with more than his fair share of tragedies and had done his best to learn from his mistakes. The green signified his maturing in to the makings of a fine Jedi knight.
And all of these thoughts which had been on Harry's mind when he activated his blade were also the basis for his consternation. He couldn't imagine what his blade could possibly show.
The blade was pure gold.