Another year at Hogwarts, another start-of-term feast. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the starless black sky outside, and the four long House tables buzzed with activity as students became reacquainted with their friends after the summer holidays. The hanging banners of the Houses swathed the Hall in color – Gryffindor red, Ravenclaw blue, Hufflepuff yellow, and Slytherin green. For the most part, the atmosphere was festive and enjoyable.
Harry was far from feeling it, however.
"Hey, brighten up, mate," Ron urged him, taking a seat to his right. "We're at Hogwarts now. You're away from those rotten Muggles for another year."
"Yeah," Harry muttered unconvincingly.
"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" asked Hermione. "You haven't been acting well at all."
"I dunno," he replied. "Just... too much is happening."
"I feel for you, Harry, I really do," Ron said concernedly. "But Dumbledore's working on things. Soon everyone'll know about You-Know-Who..."
"Ron!" hissed Hermione. "We're not supposed to talk about that in the open!"
"Excuse me, Hermione..." Ron snapped.
Harry tuned their argument out. He had too much else on his mind to try to stop their bickering. Between the dementors attacking him and Dudley at Privet Drive, his near expulsion from Hogwarts for defending himself from said dementors, the fact that the entire Ministry of Magic and much of the wizarding world – including many of his classmates – regarded him as a disturbed attention-seeking troublemaker, and most recently his bizarre hallucination of those frightening winged horses pulling the school carriages, he couldn't think straight. There was so much happening, and the worst of it was that it was all out of his control.
"Wonder where Hagrid is," he managed at last.
"You don't think they sacked him, do you?" Neville asked plaintively. "For being half-giant and all?"
"Dumbledore wouldn't let them," Hermione assured him.
"What I want to know is who they've got for the Dark Arts teacher this year," Ron wondered. "I mean, Lupin was great, but he's not coming back, is he?"
"Maybe they got someone from the Order..." began Ginny, but she caught herself. "Maybe one of Dumbledore's friends took the post."
"Fat chance," George retorted. "Ministry'd smell too much trouble." He drummed his fingers impatiently on the tabletop. "C'mon, start the feast, will ya?"
"Can't you wait until the Sorting's done?" demanded Hermione with a tone of disgust.
"Raymond, Ophelia!" called McGonagall.
The Sorting Hat was placed on the head of a tiny freckled girl who stared about the Hall with wide gray eyes. Harry suspected she was Muggle-born, from the look of utter awe on her face.
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat announced.
Ophelia Raymond doffed the hat and ran to her table while the room erupted into cheers.
"They're at the Rs, not too much longer," moaned Fred, a look of long-suffering on his face.
At last the final student was Sorted into the proper house – Rose Zeller into Hufflepuff – and Dumbledore rose from his seat.
"To our newcomers, welcome! To our old friends, welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not. Tuck in!"
The crowd cheered as the golden plates on the table overflowed with meats, pies, breads, flagons of pumpkin juice, and dishes of every kind. Harry soon forgot his troubles and lost himself in a steak-and-kidney pie.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts, students," Nearly Headless Nick greeted, gazing wistfully at the feast before him before taking a seat next to Ron. "And welcome back, Harry. Close shave at the Ministry, I hear?"
Harry nodded as he reached for a treacle tart.
"Did you hear who our next Dark Arts Professor is, Nick?" asked Dean Thomas eagerly.
"Oh, the word gets around," Nick replied. "The ghosts all paid him a respectful visit this morning. Peeves was all set to greet him in his usual manner..."
"How's Peeves greet new professors?" asked Colin Creevey, as if Peeves tormenting the newest teacher was the greatest occasion in history.
"Generally goes through their luggage and seasons it with Zonko's Itching Powder," Nick replied in a bored sort of voice. "That stuff doesn't wash off, you know. But the new teacher caught him in the act and... well... Madam Pomfrey didn't really take kindly to having a poltergeist in the hospital wing."
"Oh my gosh!" exclaimed Lavender Brown. "He didn't try to kill Peeves, did he?"
"No, but he did teach him a good lesson. I daresay that's one professor that Peeves won't be hassling in the future."
"But who is he?" demanded Dean. "Who's the new teacher? And where is he?"
"He'll be here shortly," Nick assured him. "Had to send a message to..."
The door to the Great Hall swung open with a creak of hinges.
A collective shriek rose up from the first years. The rest of the students gasped. Neville went white. Colin and Dennis gaped. A Slytherin fourth year would earn humiliation for the rest of the year by fainting headfirst into her Yorkshire pudding.
A man – if he could be called that – strode into the Great Hall, his boots clicking against the flagstones, his breathing oddly amplified and filling the now-silent chamber. Instead of wizard's robes, he wore glistening leather-and-metal armor, all the same glossy jet-black, and a billowing black cloak trailed behind him like the robes of a dementor. Lights blinked on a strange panel on his broad chest, and a control-laden belt circled his waist. A mask obscured his face – a terrifying skull-like mask that gleamed in the Hall's lights. His obsidian gaze swept over the students, silent and menacing.
If the silence had continued a moment longer panic might have broken out, but Dumbledore stood and motioned for the man to come to the staff table.
"May I introduce," he announced, "Professor Darth Vader, our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Applause erupted from many of the Muggle-born students, and the Slytherins looked positively delighted. No surprise there – Slytherin had turned out more dark witches and wizards than any other House, and Professor Vader looked dark enough himself.
"He's a Death Eater!" Neville cried.
"Don't be daft!" Fred replied, an enthusiastic grin on his face. "He's a vampire!"
"He's Darth Vader," Hermione snapped. "Honestly, I'd think at least Harry would know him!"
"I've seen him before," Harry confessed. "It was a movie on television. I only caught a few seconds of it before Uncle Vernon tossed me out of the room."
Vader took his seat between Professors Flitwick and Sprout. Both of them smiled and cheerily introduced themselves, and Vader nodded solemnly in greeting. From the opposite end of the table, however, Snape gave Vader the venomous glower that he usually reserved for Harry. Having been passed over yet again for the Dark Arts post in favor of a complete outsider to the magical community no doubt rankled him deeply.
"Who's Darth Vader?" Ron asked in an unusually high voice.
"He's a powerful Sith Lord and the Emperor's right-hand man in the 'Star Wars' movies," she replied. "He's adept in the dark side of the Force – which is like magic," she said by way of explanation when a few students offered her blank stares.
"But he's just a movie character!" Dennis Creevey exclaimed. "He can't be real!"
"And I suppose before your brother received his owl, you thought magic couldn't be real," Nick pointed out. "I assure you he's real enough, though why Dumbledore hired an Imperial is beyond my understanding. The Galactic Empire's never bothered with the magical world before..."
"The Empire exists?" asked Dean, amazed.
"Yeah, my dad's worked with Imperials before," Ron remarked. "He helped them track down a criminal that was hiding in Slovenia and impersonating a cab driver... finally caught him trying to rebuild the cab to make a skycar, and Dad decided to try it himself with our car..."
"The Empire mostly keeps to itself," Nick explained, looking highly disinterested in this turn of the conversation. "The Ministry does exchange information with them on a regular basis, but until this August the Empire showed no interest in our affairs." He waved at the staff table with a silvery hand. "Then this one shows up and demands a job. Taking time off from the Empire, he says, needs a less strenuous career for a year. A bucket of stewed hippogriff droppings, if you ask me. It's my private opinion that the Ministry is in bed with the Empire now and has sent a spy into Hogwarts."
"But if the Empire keeps to itself, how do the Muggles know of it?" asked Harry, now thoroughly interested.
"A student named George Lucas attended Hogwarts years and years ago," Nick went on. "He was prefect and Head Boy and a Chaser for the Gryffindor team... he had everything going for him. But the Headmaster caught him practicing the Imperius Curse on the school's house elves in his seventh year."
"He used an Unforgivable Curse on a house elf?!" exclaimed Hermione, shocked.
"Yes, well, if he'd been doing it to a fellow student, it would have landed him in Azkaban for life. Seeing as house elves aren't exactly human..." Nick earned a highly offended glare from Hermione, "...his crime wasn't as serious, but it was an Unforgivable Curse, and the Ministry had to act. He maintained that it was all a big joke and the elves didn't seem to mind – they were used to taking orders all the time anyhow – but he was promptly expelled and sentenced to a two-year term in Azkaban nonetheless."
"But he escaped, didn't he?" gushed Fred.
"Yes, he saw it coming," Nick replied. "Apparently he's a direct descendent of the Seer Cassandra Trelawney, just as your dear Professor Trelawney is. The key difference is that Lucas most definitely does possess the Gift, unlike Trelawney, whose Seer power is always questionable at best. So he foretold his own escape and, true to his word, fled Azkaban. I understand he's now living as an American Muggle and making quite a tidy profit from his Seer gift."
"I should say!" exclaimed Dean. "He foretold the rise of the Empire! Wait until Darth Vader hears about this!"
"Professor Vader, Dean," Hermione informed him crisply. "And frankly, I don't care if he's from the Galactic Empire or the Roman Empire, so long as he's a better teacher than Quirrel was."
"Hermione, Lockhart was a better teacher than Quirrel was," Ron retorted.
Before Hermione could fire off a retort, Dumbledore stood, clapping his hands to signal for silence.
"Now that we have all been fed and watered, I beg a few moments of your attention to give the usual announcements," he said in his deep, gentle voice. "First years would be wise to take note that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds, as is the village of Hogsmeade to anyone under third year. Also, our caretaker Mr. Filch would like me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list on his office door."
Fred and George smirked. The two of them had launched a vicious war on Filch ever since their first year at Hogwarts.
"We would also like to welcome our two newest teachers – Professor Grubbly-Plank, back to serve as a substitute for our currently-absent Care of Magical Creatures Professor; and of course, Professor Vader, here to teach our Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons."
Applause broke out once again when Vader's name was announced.
"Professor Vader would also like me to inform you that the men in white you will be seeing around the castle this year are his personal guards, and that you will be advised to not disturb them in their duties. Generally, if you let them be, they will let you be. Also, a warning has been issued regarding the bathrooms on the third floor – don't be alarmed by the noises the toilets make when you flush them, it's perfectly harmless. We're working on repairing them, but as we can't find the counterjinx yet, we implore you to be patient.
"Quiddich tryouts will begin in two weeks, so I advise anyone second year or over who wishes to represent their House out on the pitch to get some practice in. And if that is all..." He glanced back at the teachers, but none gave any indication that he had missed an announcement. "Then I suggest we all retire to our beds."
At that the plates wiped themselves clean, and the students began to file out of the Great Hall.
"Gryffindors this way!" Ron shouted.
"Have a care, Perfect Prefect Ronnie," George teased. "Most of us know how to get to Gryffindor Tower, we're not helpless."
A first year gave a sharp squeal as Professor Vader strode by, his cloak rippling. He halted and fixed the students with a penetrating gaze, which finally came to rest on Harry.
All at once his scar began tingling. No pain, not in the way it hurt like when Voldemort was upset or angry, but still horribly sensitive. He found he couldn't tear himself away from that ebon-black stare, couldn't break eye contact at all.
A mysterious, soundless voice seemed to echo through his brain – I sense that we have something in common, Harry.
Then Vader continued on his way, and Harry found himself freed from that weird petrifaction. Shaking his head, he followed the rest of the Gryffindors.
"What was that about, Harry?" asked Neville. "You looked like you were going to faint."
"I dunno," Harry replied.
"When's our first Defense against the Dark Arts class?" demanded Seamus excitedly.
"This Wednesday, with the Slytherins," replied Dean. "Of all the rotten luck, another class with them. At least they switched us to work with the Hufflepuffs in Potions..."
Harry suddenly found himself dreading Wednesday.
-------
The curious thing about dreading an event is that, the more you hope it will never come, the faster it approaches. So it seemed only a matter of hours to him before he found himself walking through the classroom door, silently hoping that nothing would happen to him this year. Two of the last four Dark Arts teachers had tried to kill him, one had gotten sacked because of him, and still another had tried to take him, kicking and screaming, under his wing in the unwanted role of celebrity.
Somehow he had a feeling that Professor Vader would also exhibit a peculiar interest in him, and that was by no means a comforting thought.
"Just you wait, he's great!" Fred had praised the night before in the Gryffindor common room. "Really knows his stuff!"
"Of course he knows his stuff," Hermione muttered darkly as they pushed into the classroom. "He's a Dark Lord. Isn't it hypocritical to hire a Dark Lord to teach a Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"
"Dad says he's better than the Ministry's choice," Ron retorted.
When they entered the room, Harry had to rub his eyes to be sure of what he was seeing. A bluish image was hanging in the air over the desk, slightly transparent and glowing softly. The image was made up of boxes in neat rows, each containing the name of a student.
"I think it's a seating chart," Harry told a stupefied Ron.
"Oh, the great Harry Potter thinks?"
Harry turned around to find Draco Malfoy smirking at him.
"Get lost, Malfoy," he snapped.
"How's it feel to be kicked off your high and mighty pedestal, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "I hear the whole Ministry thinks you're a wacko now. Maybe they can reserve a special room for you at St. Mungo's, eh? Call it the Delusional Psycho Potter Ward."
"Well, why don't you go to St. Mungo's yourself and get a brain transplant?" demanded Ron.
"Watch it, Weasel, or I'll put you in detention," Malfoy said gloatingly.
"That will be quite enough, gentlemen," a deep, somehow mechanical voice ordered.
The three of turned to find Vader glowering down at them. He locked eyes with Harry again, but to his immense relief his scar remained calm and no voices sounded in his head.
"Take your seats," he boomed. "And Mr. Malfoy, you would be wise to remember that in this room, only I am authorized to give detentions."
Malfoy slunk off, deflated.
"You will all sit in the desks assigned to you on the seating chart," Vader addressed the entire class, gesturing to the hovering picture. "If you have a problem with your seating assignment, state it now, because after today the assignments are permanent."
"I'd... uh... like to..." stammered Neville. Some fluke in the seating arrangement had placed him right next to Malfoy, who was eyeing him with a maliciously eager expression.
"Speak clearly, Mr. Longbottom," Vader ordered.
"He can't, Professor," Malfoy sniggered. "He's too thick to get out a sentence most of the time."
Neville's face became a brilliant pink as the Slytherins laughed derisively.
"Miss Granger, exchange seats with Mr. Malfoy," ordered Vader. "And that will be ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. I will tolerate no fighting or name-calling among students in my classroom."
Malfoy looked taken aback at this, but Neville looked considerably happier as Hermione settled in beside him.
"There will be several basic rules to be observed at all times in this class," Vader went on, giving a slight wave of his hand. The seating chart vanished, and as he gave the rules they appeared in floating blue letters. "There will be no talking while I am speaking. You will raise your hand and wait until called upon before asking questions or offering feedback. You will address me as Professor Vader or Sir at all times. In return I will address you as Mr. or Miss as the occasion permits. You will follow instructions the first time they are given, and if you don't understand those instructions ask for clarification immediately. I am not responsible for any damages you suffer for failing to follow directions. And as I stated before, there will be no fighting, insulting, or horseplay in this room. Anyone who objects to any of these rules is free to leave this class and accept a failing grade in return. Are there any questions?"
Dean's hand shot up like a rocket.
"Mr. Thomas?"
"Are you really Darth Vader, sir?" he asked eagerly. "I mean, you're not just some wizard in a mask, are you?"
Vader gave him a look that could best be described as disdainful. "I am Darth Vader, Mr. Thomas, of that you can be sure. As for your second comment, I am not a wizard, but a Je..." He paused and amended his answer. "A Sith. That is the equivalent of a wizard in our galaxy."
Hermione's hand went up next.
"Miss Granger?"
"I understand that the Sith practice the Dark Arts," she said cautiously. "How can you presume to teach us about how to defend ourselves from the Dark Arts if you use them yourself?"
"You are partially correct, Miss Granger. The Sith use the dark side of the Force. A wizard may call this the Dark Arts, but it is far more complex than that. As we are a different Order than the magic-users of your world, we are not practicers of the Dark Arts of your world. And as for how I can instruct you in defending yourselves from said Dark Arts, who better to teach you basic defense than one who knows the dangers of the dark side and exactly what effects they can have on the unwary?"
Harry wasn't about to argue that point, though it didn't make him feel any better.
Malfoy raised his hand.
"Mr. Malfoy?"
"So if you're supposedly some great wizard or Sith or whatnot," he sneered, "why do you wear a shoddy Muggle costume?" He smiled gloatingly as Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.
"That is not your concern, Mr. Malfoy," Vader said in a stormy tone. "Ten points from Slytherin."
"What?" he demanded. "You can't do that to me!"
"I most assuredly can, Mr. Malfoy," he thundered. "If you paid attention to the rules, you would see that I have twice stated that insults will not be tolerated."
"That's a cauldron of bat's dung, you great Mudblood wizard impersonator!"
"Twenty more points from Slytherin," Vader boomed. "That makes thirty in all, Mr. Malfoy. Are we trying for an even fifty?"
Malfoy trembled with rage. Harry grinned. He'd thought he'd have trouble with Professor Vader this year, but it appeared that it would be Malfoy who would earn most of Vader's attention. Malfoy was always confident that his position as a pureblood and highborn wizard would win over any professor, but apparently Vader was unimpressed by lineage.
"If you wish your House to retain a few points by the end of this class period," Vader advised, "I would suggest that you sit down and keep your mouth firmly shut." He turned and removed a small disc-shaped object from his desk, and the floating letters vanished.
Malfoy suddenly shot from his seat, aiming his wand at Vader's caped back. "Tarantallegra!"
A flash of yellow fire crossed the room. Harry gulped in breath to shout out a warning, but just as "Look out!" burst from his and several other students' throats, Vader whirled, his right hand raised. The spell glanced off the palm of his hand and struck the ceiling, raining sparks down on the class' heads.
Malfoy looked as if he'd just been hit with a board. The entire class was silent, awed. Hermione looked impressed, a rare feat indeed.
"Detention, Mr. Malfoy, and one hundred points from Slytherin," Vader snarled. "The only reason your punishment stands there is that you have unwittingly given an example of what this class will be learning to do this term."
Malfoy sank into his seat, still stunned beyond words.
"Wasn't that the... oops!" Hermione quickly raised her hand.
"Continue speaking, Miss Granger."
"Wasn't that the Shield Charm?" she finished. "I've never seen anyone do that without speaking the incantation first."
"You are correct, Miss Granger, in saying that a Shield Charm can be useful in blocking an attack," Vader replied. "However, one does not require a charm, hex, jinx, curse, or even a wand to use magic. The Jedi and Sith are able to draw on the Force without the aid of a wand."
"But that's impossible!" exclaimed Ron. "Oops, sorry."
"Raise your hand, Mr. Weasley," Vader instructed. "That is your only warning. And no, it is not impossible. Many of you in this room have probably drawn on magic without the use of your wand in times of great emotional duress, have you not?"
Harry remembered the summer before his first year at Hogwarts, when he'd accidentally freed the boa constrictor in the London Zoo. And of course, the fiasco his third year when he'd inflated Aunt Marge, something Uncle Vernon had never forgiven him for.
"Perhaps a second demonstration is in order," Vader mused. "Stand, Miss Granger. I will need your services."
She rose from her desk.
"Cast a spell upon me," he ordered. "Something you would use to attack a foe."
"I don't want to hurt you, Professor," she said unsurely.
"Don't worry," he replied. "You won't."
She raised her wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"
No visible jet of light issued from Hermione's wand, but Vader raised a hand anyhow. His fingers stiffened slightly, as if absorbing the spell, then he lowered it.
"Again," he ordered. "A different spell."
Hermione looked utterly frightened. Unlike Malfoy, who took great relish in jinxing anyone (even a teacher, apparently), Hermione would swallow Stinksap before willingly cursing a professor.
"Stupefy!" she said at last.
For the third time a spell bounced easily from Vader's raised palm, and the class broke into applause.
"You may be seated, Miss Granger," he told her. "Ten points for Gryffindor."
Having earned her House points seemed to assuage her concern, and she sat down with a smile.
"Perfect Hermione the Mudblood," grumbled Pansy from her seat behind Harry.
"And ten points from Slytherin, Miss Parkinson," snapped Vader.
She gave a squeak of indignation but shut up.
"It takes great mental discipline to effectively block a spell," Vader told the class. "It will take weeks before any of you can do it without the aid of your wand, as you are used to relying on it." He lifted a sheaf of papers from his desk. "Miss Brown, pass these out to the class. They are a brief overview of what we will be covering this year."
Harry took his sheet and inspected it:
Defense Against the Dark Arts Year V Class GoalsRecognizing curses, jinxes, hexes, and other potentially harmful spells
Using magic to quickly and successfully deflect these spells, with and without wands
Using simple but effective counterspells to incapacitate an attacker
Using specialized spells for specific creatures, attackers, and situations (i.e. the Patronus Charm)
Recognizing situations in which using magic can exacerbate the problem, and using methods to escape said situations intact
"As you can see, we have a lot to cover this term," he continued. "That is why unnecessary interruptions and distractions will NOT be tolerated under any circumstances. I expect utmost dedication from you this year, especially if you wish to pass your O.W.L. examinations. Am I clear?"
No one dared speak, but a few students managed nods.
"Are there any questions?"
After a long silence, Seamus finally raised his hand.
"Mr. Finnagin?"
"This is a bit off the subject, sir," he said, "but do you believe that... that You-Know-Who is really back? Like Dumbledore and Potter are always saying?"
Harry swallowed back some angry bile. Of course Seamus would say that. He'd once been a friend, but ever since the Tri-wizard Tournament ended last year he'd been very suspicious of Harry's declaration that Voldemort had returned. That wasn't unusual – most of the wizarding world believed he was lying – but he'd hoped to gain a bit more support in his own House.
"Lord Voldemort," Vader corrected, making the entire class flinch. "Referring to a wizard as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a ridiculous practice. If you cannot call him by his true name, don't speak of him at all."
Seamus shrank in his seat. "Sorry, sir."
"Do not be sorry," Vader replied. "Your question is by no means off the subject. Dumbledore has always maintained that Voldemort was never dead, only resting and rebuilding his power. And yes, he has returned, Seamus, try as many might to deny it. That is precisely why it is imperative for you to learn everything you can here, that you might be protected should you ever encounter him or one of his followers."
The class shifted restlessly, suddenly divided. Some believed the rumors that Voldemort was back. Others wanted to believe but were afraid of losing friends and alienating family if they spoke out against the Ministry. Still others scowled at Vader for daring to side with Potter and Dumbledore.
Before anything else could be said, the dismissal bell rang. The entire class leaped to their feet.
"The bell does not dismiss you!" Vader boomed, and everyone promptly fell back into their seats. "Now you may go."
"Howling mad, isn't he?" a Slytherin boy Harry didn't recognize grumbled as the students shuffled out. "Lost his mind just like Potter."
"I think he was fascinating," Ron replied. "Imagine it, not needing a wand to use magic!"
"I have to admit, he was better than I thought he would be," Hermione confessed. "I do hope we get to cover the Patronus Charm! That's a fascinating bit of magic, isn't it?"
Harry was about to reply, but then stopped and turned back to the classroom.
"Harry?" asked Ron.
"Forgot my quill," he replied.
The eagle-feather quill had fallen beneath his desk, and he got down on his hands and knees to retrieve it."Do you need something, Mr. Potter?"
"Ouch!" he yelped, jumping at Professor Vader's voice and hitting his head on the underside of the desk. "No, just forgot something..." He scrambled to his feet and began to brush off his robes.
For the second time that week Vader made eye contact with Harry, and for the second time he found himself locked in that ebony gaze. Something rippled through his head, as if his mind were a book and someone was riffling the pages, scanning the information within. His scar prickled uncomfortably.
At last the weird sensation ceased, and Vader turned back to his desk. "Go, Potter."
He wasted no time in making himself scarce.
