Chapter 2 – Visits from Snape and Trelawney

Peeves had somehow damaged Vader's docupad while rummaging through his possessions – something he wouldn't be doing again – so Vader had decided to resort to the wizard's method of communication. An owl would take the letter to an Imperial outpost in the Scotland highlands, where it would be scanned and transmitted electronically to the Emperor. However, that first meant penning the letter out longhand.

In the galaxy at large, handwriting was becoming a lost art. So many people relied on text processing software that only a select few could scrawl out more than their signatures in a legible manner. Penmanship was a required line of study in the Jedi Temple, however, and though Vader usually tried to forget about his past as a Jedi, he was grateful that he had learned a few useful things from the Order.

Malfoy fidgeted uncomfortably in front of his desk, glancing nervously at the stormtroopers flanking him from time to time. Vader ignored the boy, letting him stew awhile while he completed his message. He had little liking for highborn brats like this, and even though Dumbledore had forbidden him from exacting harsh punishments upon the students, he was certainly going to teach this one a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

But he completed the letter first.

Master Sidious,

I am sending this message in answer to your request that I notify you as soon as I reached my destination. I am currently at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the planet of Earth. From what Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has told me, mechanical means of communication do not work properly on the school's grounds; thus, all further communications with you must be through writing.

There is a great controversy within the Force-wielding community on this world. The Dark Lord Voldemort is rumored to have risen again, despite Ministry claims to the contrary. Whether he intends to take over the Empire as well as the government here is unclear. I will keep you informed as more information regarding this self-styled Dark Lord is made available.

He paused, considered, then continued writing.

There is a boy at this school, one Harry Potter. I sense something unusual about him. He is legendary on this world for surviving a direct attack from the aforementioned Voldemort as well as facing him down no less than three times during his studies at Hogwarts. There is something strange about this boy, something I intend to investigate while here.

I am always at your service.

Lord Darth Vader

That completed, he set the quill aside and capped the inkbottle, waiting for the parchment to dry.

"This stinks," Malfoy complained.

"It's detention, Malfoy," Vader replied coolly. "It's supposed to stink."

"I can't believe I'm even here," Malfoy sniffed. "When my father gets word of this, he'll..."

"As a professor at this school, my word overrides that of your father's," Vader retorted. "I understand your father has considerable monetary influence within the Ministry of Magic, but he – and you – would be wise to remember that the power of gold and blood only extend so far." He folded the message for the Emperor and handed it to the screech owl that waited on his desk. It took the letter in its beak and soared out the window.

Malfoy puffed out his chest. "So the mighty Darth Vader's going to punish me. What are you going to do? Flog me? Unleash one of those Muggle torture machines I've heard about?"

"Such methods, unfortunately, have been banned by your long-suffering Headmaster," Vader replied. "I have other plans for you, Mr. Malfoy."

A third stormtrooper entered the room. "Sir, Mr. Argus Filch is here."

"Show him in."

Malfoy looked as if he'd just smelled something highly unpleasant. "Filch?"

The wizened, greasy-haired caretaker of the castle limped into the room, carrying his scrawny cat under one arm. "You called me, Professor?"

"This young man is scheduled to serve detention this evening," Vader replied, waving his hand at Malfoy. "As I am new to this school, I am unsure of what punishment could be deemed appropriate in this situation. Thus, I am turning the duty over to you."

Malfoy's face went even whiter than usual.

"What'd he do?" demanded Filch, his eyes glittering eagerly. "Oh, never mind the details, I'll handle this, Professor. Indeed I will."

"Then he's all yours. My men will accompany you to prevent his escape."

"You can't do this to me!" Malfoy shrieked as the soldiers ushered him and the caretaker out of his office.

Vader spared no words for a retort but swiveled his chair to stare into the office's fireplace. His tasks for the evening accomplished, he took some time to relax in meditation, reflecting on the events of the past few weeks.

Over the fireplace sat a small ebony box in which his new wand rested ("Black walnut and dragon heartstring, nice and supple, excellent for jinxes and countercurses" the shopkeeper at Ollivander's had informed him). Though he needed no wand to access magic, Dumbledore had suggested he acquire one in order to demonstrate traditional spells. Vader had yet to pick it up, however – it only served to remind him of his banishment here.

He didn't really want to be here. Given the option, he would have stayed aboard the Executor and continued pursuing the Rebel fleet. But he'd had no choice. Palpatine had practically forced this year of vacation – exile, actually – on him, claiming that he hadn't been the same since the Bespin duel and that he needed some time off. The Emperor had even suggested several locations he'd deemed ideal for temporary retirement – though Vader didn't even want to consider what the Emperor thought of as "ideal."

It was against the Emperor's wishes that he'd finally decided to take the job at Hogwarts. The fewer Force-strongs trained on this backwater world, Palpatine theorized, the better. In the end, though, the monarch had relented, provided Vader supplied the Empire with information regarding the state of the wizards' world from time to time.

A crash and a gleeful cackle from the corridor outside his office signaled another attack on a hapless student or staff member courtesy of the resident poltergeist. Well, at least this would prove to be an interesting job. What with the talking paintings, ghosts, Peeves, centaurs, and the unpredictability of children and teenagers in general, he could count on keeping busy.

But the thing that had most intrigued him was that boy... Harry Potter. Somehow he felt a strange kinship with him. It wasn't that he was more Force-strong than the other students. It was more as if he were marked, not just by that odd scar, but also by other, stranger means. Could it be that the Jedi had been wrong all along, and that this Potter was the Chosen One?

Don't be an idiot, he told himself. You are the Chosen One. You simply brought balance to the Force in a manner the Jedi didn't consider. And I highly doubt that there can be more than one Chosen One...

A stormtrooper entered the room. "Sir, Mr. Severus Snape is here to see you."

What did he want? "Show him in."

Two soldiers escorted the beak-nosed Potions Professor into the room. His robes flared out like the wings of some overgrown bat as he walked. His straight black hair fell in a greasy curtain to his shoulders, and his eyes were narrow and shrewish, taking everything in with a calculating look. Those eyes flashed with barely restrained contempt when they rested on Vader, and his mouth took on a peculiar tightness. Vader stood, towering over the man and sending the signal that in this room, he was the superior.

"What do you want, Snape?" he asked coldly.

"Simply to offer my congratulations that you obtained the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," Snape replied in an oily voice. "You must be very brave – or very foolish. No teacher has made it longer than three years at this post. It's a rather... risky proposition."

"I'll take the risk," Vader retorted.

"Oh? You hope to break the record?" He offered the Dark Lord a disdainful sneer.

"No, actually. I am only taking this post for a year. After that, you may try your luck again at securing the job. Though if I were you, Snape, I'd know when to admit defeat."

Snape's eyes narrowed even more. "I feel impressed to inform you that there is a certain student among your pupils who had a certain disregard for rules, one Harry Potter. If I were you, I'd take a firm hand in controlling his escapades."

"I will be the judge of the students," Vader replied, folding his arms over his chest. "And so far Mr. Potter has respected my rules. On the other hand, a certain student of your House seems to consider himself above the rules – Draco Malfoy. If you agree to keep a tight watch on Mr. Malfoy, I will follow your suggestion regarding Mr. Potter."

Snape's features hardened considerably.

"I take it that there will be no deal?" Vader asked.

"I'll deal with Malfoy," Snape snapped. "As for you, Mr. Vader, I would watch your back. Unpleasant things have been known to befall Dark Arts Professors here."

"Are you threatening me, Snape?" demanded Vader, one hand straying toward his lightsaber.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." He offered a thin, badly faked smile. "Just a warning. And may I suggest that you consider a wardrobe change, especially the mask? Frankly, I've seen more attractive cauldrons."

Vader silently both thanked and cursed the stormtrooper that serendipitously entered the room at that moment. Had the stormtrooper been thirty seconds later, he would have walked in on a furious duel between Snape and Vader.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Sir, Miss Sibyll Trelawney wants a word with you."

"Show her in."

Snape gave a slight, mocking bow. "Keep my warnings in mind, Mr. Vader, and goodbye." He swept out, nearly colliding with Divination Professor Trelawney on his way out.

If Snape resembled a bat, Trelawney bore a distinct similarity to an enormous dragonfly. Dripping with scarves, beads, and bracelets, with her eyes queerly magnified by her round spectacles, she didn't walk so much as she glided across the floor. A heavy smell of incense and herbal tea followed her in – it must have been suffocating to anyone else if he could detect it through his mask. She offered him a dreamy smile and extended a hand in welcome.

"Lord Vader," she breathed in an airy tone, "I perceived through the ethers of time that we would be receiving an important visitor at Hogwarts, and now you have arrived here in all your glory. I welcome you to Hogwarts and wish you a happy time here."

Good stars, what drug is this woman on? Vader thought.

"Thank you, Trelawney," he told her aloud. "I presume, however, that you are not here simply to say hello."

"Ah, you are perceptive, Vader," she noted. "I came here to invite you to my tower for a reading of your future. The Inner Eye can enrich your life in mysterious ways..."

"No thank you," he replied. The last thing he needed to be mixed up in was another prophecy.

"Are you sure?" She gazed at his hands. "Not even a simple palm reading? The hands can be the key to the future."

"No thank you," he repeated firmly.

"But then, a tea reading is more accurate... though the crystal ball produces the clearest images by far..."

"No," he insisted.

"If you're sure," she sighed, turning to go. "But I must wonder, my dear, if your reluctance to read into your future doesn't stem from some innate aura of your own. Do you know of the tragedy in your future and, thus, dread it?"

"Get out," he ordered.

She placed a hand to her forehead as if about to swoon. "Oh! The Inner Eye has opened... I foresee great trouble in your future... a woman in your life is about to cause you pain... great pain..."

That did it. He'd had more than enough of this madness. "TK-705!"

The trooper stepped into the room. "Sir."

"Escort Professor Trelawney back to her tower at once!"

"Yes sir." He took the still-babbling witch by the arm and led her out.

Vader flopped back into his chair with a weary sigh. He didn't know who got on his nerves more, Snape or Trelawney. The first was clearly going to be his greatest rival at Hogwarts, but the second was a well-intentioned annoyance that would drive him insane if he didn't find some way to ward her off.

Woman in my life... that's a laugh, he thought acidly. There's been no woman for twenty-four years. She's no more a Seer than I am a Jedi.

-------

Harry lay awake for some time, staring at the ceiling. Ron's snores and the scratch of a quill as Neville penned a letter to his grandmother weren't what was keeping him awake; it was dread of the dreams that had haunted his nights for the past few months.

I just wish I knew what was on the other side of that door, he thought, pulling the blanket up to his chin. And why it's so important to Voldemort anyhow. Is there a secret weapon behind there or something?

His scar remained mercifully quiet, but all the same he reached up and rubbed it gently. Why had it bothered him when Vader had probed his mind? It had never acted up in quite that way before. Dumbledore had said that he could feel through the scar when Voldemort was feeling powerful emotion, but he hadn't mentioned anything else relating to it.

And what had Vader wanted anyhow? If the Ministry and Empire did communicate on a regular basis, it made sense that Vader would have already known something of Harry's defeat of Voldemort. Maybe he wanted to know if he was telling the truth about seeing Voldemort's return. Maybe he wanted to know just how Harry had survived the Dark Lord's first attack.

Or maybe he's just nosy.

At any rate, he wasn't going to ask. Other students might think having a Sith as a teacher was great fun, but Vader only creeped Harry out in a way he couldn't describe. He only hoped that Vader would let him alone for the rest of the term.

At long last he pulled the covers over his head and lapsed once again into a fitful sleep, where the mysterious door remained just out of reach.

-------

Many miles away, in a decrepit manor quite overgrown with ivy and weeds, Lord Voldemort also thought of Vader.

The news that an Imperial was working at Hogwarts was by no means secret – it had whipped the wizarding world into a frenzy that made Harry Potter's controversial story of Voldemort's return seem like a minor bar squabble. Some parents had threatened to pull their students out of the school unless Vader was promptly sacked. Many wizards wondered if this wasn't some plot of the Empire's to spy on the magic world's dealings. Ministry officials were outraged that Dumbledore had chosen a complete outsider to their world over their perfectly qualified Ministry-appointed teacher.

Such petty quarrels were beneath Voldemort's notice. He had no interest in the aftershocks of this situation. No, his gaze was fixed at the heart of the matter.

A Dark Lord at Hogwarts, he thought, stroking the banded snake on his lap with a claw-like finger. Dumbledore must be desperate indeed to ally himself with a Sith.

He'd heard tales of the Sith, of course. They were an infamous force in the galaxy beyond Earth. And Lord Darth Vader was himself a legend, capable of killing with a gesture, manipulating minds, raising and throwing objects with the mere power of suggestion, and much more. A near-perfect blend of machinery and man, ruthless, fearless... he could be a great enemy or a worthy ally, especially in his current position at Hogwarts. If Voldemort could reach the man...

But Vader had a weakness – honor. Despite the brutal Sith training designed to crush all undesirable traits out of an apprentice, Vader retained a sense of honor. Honor was a crippling flaw. Honor led one to follow the softer path, to make errors. Honor led to failure.

Voldemort detested honor.

He caressed Nagini's triangular head, thoughtful. Perhaps it wasn't Vader's loyalty he sought after all, but another's. One who already had a firm control over the man, one who also regarded honor as a failing, one who could be as ruthless and merciless a leader as Voldemort was himself.

"Wormtail," he rasped.

"Y-y-yes, my master?" the pathetic little wizard replied, trembling with terror. Voldemort felt his bloodless lips tighten in a gleeful smile. How he enjoyed tormenting this man. But there wasn't time for such frivolities at the moment.

"Call for Malfoy. I'll be needing his services."

"Y-y-yes, my Lord."

"And prepare the drawing room. We'll be having royal company in a few days, and it won't do to have the place a shambles."