Chapter 3 – The Woes of a Stormtrooper

Dumbledore had said at the beginning of the term that if the students let the stormtroopers wandering the halls be, the stormtroopers would pretty much leave them alone. But no one, especially not the Weasley twins, seemed to pay the suggestion much mind. It became a sort of game to jinx, hex, and otherwise torment the soldiers.

The first glimpse Harry got of a stormtrooper was on his way to Potions Class three weeks into the school year. Professor Flitwick was marching down the hall with as much authority as he could muster, ushering students out of the way.

"Back away, students, we don't know if he's contagious yet!" he squeaked. "Clear the way, sick man going to the hospital wing! Move aside! That means you too, Parvati, I'm sure he doesn't appreciate your gawking..."

Angelina and a Ravenclaw sixth year Harry didn't recognize were supporting each side of a rather exhausted-looking stormtrooper, wearing identical expressions of extreme reluctance. The trooper, meanwhile, seemed to have been halfway transfigured into a slug – from the waist down, he was a mass of slime. Flitwick continued to bark orders as they passed by, leaving a slippery trail in their wake.

"Blimey," Ron moaned, "Filch is gonna have a fit."

"Who would be so low as to do that?" Hermione demanded.

Harry didn't reply, but he did recall Malfoy looking awfully triumphant in their Care of Magical Creatures class earlier.

"And he can't even use magic to defend himself!" Hermione went on. "Honestly, whoever did that should be ashamed of themselves."

"C'mon, Herm, it's all in fun," Dean replied. "I see the Weasley twins jinxing troopers all the time, and the troops are in on the game. They fight over whose turn it is to patrol Gryffindor tower just to see what kind of hex'll pop up this time."

"I still don't agree with it," Hermione said scathingly. "It's as bad as cursing a house elf."

"Honestly, haven't you given up on 'spew' yet?" Ron asked in exasperation.

"S.P.E.W., Ron," she retorted, "and I won't give up on it until instances such as the one that rightfully got Lucas expelled never happen anymore!"

After class, all the Gryffindors found themselves burdened with extra Potions homework – Snape had declared each and every one of their Peace Potions to be faulty and deducted fifty points from their house, as well as assigned them an essay no less than a parchment long on the properties of the potion's ingredients.

"He's just mad at Professor Vader," Harry theorized. "And he's taking it out on us."

"Couldn't he at least take it out on a stormtrooper?" moaned Ron. "I can't do this and write out an entire planetary chart for Trelawney too."

"Stop whining, Ron," Hermione snapped. "I think it's grossly unfair as well. There wasn't anything wrong with my potion, and he still assigned me the essay..."

At that moment, Peeves shot around the bend, cackling madly and shooting toward them like a rocket. He was wearing a stormtrooper's helmet, his belled hat perched haphazardly atop it, and he straddled a blaster rifle beneath him as if it were a broomstick. Hot on his heels came three stormtroopers, two with rifles, the third with a pistol.

"Stop him!" the first one, obviously some sort of officer, ordered.

Harry wasn't sure they'd actually meant for them to do anything, but Hermione acted anyway. With a swift motion she flicked out her wand and aimed it at Peeves.

"Immobilus!" she cried.

Peeves froze in mid-cackle, hanging in the air like a misshapen helium balloon. The troopers slowed to a walk and approached her.

"Don't know how you can do that," the commander noted, "but I'm glad you can."

"Please tell me we're authorized to shoot the poltergeist," pleaded one trooper.

"I dunno if he can even be killed," Ron said with a shrug. "He's been here for ages – no one but Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron can control him..."

"Accio Helmet and Rifle," Harry murmured, catching the items and offering them to the commander.

"I definitely should've put in for that transfer to Thyferra," grumbled the trooper who'd asked if he could shoot Peeves.

"Shut up, 467," retorted the second trooper.

"I've had enough of this place!" 467 snapped. "The damned talking pictures always butting into my business and the Sith-spawned poltergeist stirring up chaos and kids hexing me every time I turn a corner... I spent four hours in the hospital wing yesterday having that cranky nurse shrink my feet back to their normal size... I've gotten stuck in that trick staircase so many times it's a wonder I haven't broken a leg..."

"Soldier!" the commander barked. "Shut up or ship out! 742 didn't ask to be here either, and you don't see him complaining!"

"I actually like it here," 742 mused. "Charming place. And the students don't mean any harm..."

"You haven't been transfigured yet, have you?" 467 shot back.

"Actually, I was turned into a lizard my first day patrolling the dungeons," 742 replied. "And believe me, there's a lot you can do as a lizard that you can't as a human..."

"I give up!" huffed 467, storming off.

The commander sighed. "Thanks again for the help," he told Hermione, and he and 742 strode off.

"I wonder who turned him into a lizard," Harry said.

"Probably a Slytherin," Ron replied. "Uh, shouldn't we unfreeze Peeves?"

"Leave him," Hermione advised. "Teach him a lesson. Besides, it'll wear off soon enough."

After that, a day didn't go by when a stormtrooper wasn't seen hurrying off to see Madam Pomfrey or a teacher to have some ailment or other amended. Once, on his way to Quiddich practice, he was nearly run down by a trooper rushing his comrade to the hospital wing, a scarf wrapped around the poor man's head in a vain attempt to disguise the fact that he was growing tusks. Another time, a whole line of troopers was seen waiting outside Professor Flitwick's office, awaiting a Silencing Charm to counteract the fact that their helmets were uttering a strange gonglike ringing every time they were touched. Neville swore he saw Professor McGonagall admit a grouchy-looking rooster into her office, then a few minutes later escort out an equally grouchy stormtrooper who still had a few stray feathers clinging to his armor.

Even Vader wasn't entirely safe from stray curses – especially from the Slytherins, who still hadn't forgiven him for docking a hundred and forty points from their house. But at least Vader was able to deflect the spells – and had the authority to punish his attackers. By the end of September, Slytherin was so far behind in House points that it would take a miracle for them to get back in the running, even with Snape adding points for trivial matters at every possible opportunity.

The conflict came to an ugly head one frosty night in early October, when six troopers went to investigate strange lights in one of the greenhouses. The perpetrators, a group of third years hoping to nip the answers to their next Herbology quiz, panicked upon being discovered and began firing spells indiscriminately in every direction. It took all the House prefects and Dumbledore's swift intervention to calm things down.

The result of the encounter – Professor Sprout was seen the next day carrying a bushel of acorn squashes to the hospital wing, the two students who had miraculously escaped transfiguration found themselves in detention for a solid week, and the lone untransfigured stormtrooper had to be shipped to St. Mungo's for rehabilitation, as no one could convince him that he wasn't a proton torpedo.

That evening Dumbledore addressed the students at dinner, chastising them for their unfriendly treatment of the stormtroopers and calling them to task. "You are to set a good example to the Empire. To these men, you represent Hogwarts and wizard-kind. Please act accordingly."

"Tell that to Snape," Harry mumbled, watching the Potions teacher and Vader exchange rather poisonous looks as they left the Great Hall in opposite directions.

"Five Galleons those two get caught up in a duel by the end of the week," Lee Jordon told Fred and George.

"Won't take it," Fred replied. "We know you'd win."

"Think Dumbledore's speech'll do anything to stop the jinxes?" asked Ron.

"You kidding?" Harry retorted, spearing a sausage. "The best way to encourage bad behavior is to ban it. I almost feel sorry for those stormtroopers now."

--------

The hallway leading to Vader's office was lined with stormtroopers, and each snapped to salute as Dumbledore walked past them. He allowed himself a slight smile. The Muggle soldiers were impressive enough, but he doubted they'd be enough to protect Vader should anyone come into the castle truly seeking to harm him. Oh well. Vader could certainly take care of himself in a fight. And if it made him feel better to have his guards around, Dumbledore would allow that.

The troopers at the door to the office stepped forward to question him, but upon recognizing him they stepped back, and one of them opened the door to allow him to enter. He noted with amusement that each of them had sprouted a squirrel's tail. Evidently he'd have to get a little sterner with the students. Then again, if it was harmless...

Vader was addressing Fred and George Weasley at the moment, but he nodded at the Headmaster and waved to a seat beside his desk, which was inexplicably charred as if by an explosion. The twins' expressions remained the same – each wore a self-satisfied, unrepentant grin.

"Perhaps you two can tell me why you are in detention this evening?" Vader asked them.

"No idea," Fred replied.

"Nothing comes to mind," George added.

"Nothing?" Vader repeated, folding his arms and leveling a piercing glower at them.

"Well," Fred confessed, his smile never fading, "we may have transfigured your what's-it-called – your holoprojector – into a bubotuber plant."

"And perhaps we set fire to our essays on the Unforgivable Curses," George admitted.

"But you didn't want to read them anyhow," Fred assured him.

"And I recall something about Garroting Gas in the stormtroopers' quarters," George added.

"And the Dungbombs in their helmets," Fred cut in.

"And the Filibuster firecracker in your desk," George responded. "Sorry about that. We'll buy you some new gloves, okay?"

"And transfiguring TK-577," Fred finished. "But he made a great hedgehog, really."

Dumbledore chuckled slightly. All an average day for the twins, it seemed.

"And you found these pranks of yours amusing?" Vader inquired.

"Pretty amusing, yeah," George replied.

Vader glared a moment longer before nodding. "I see. Your teachers and classmates evidently find your escapades amusing as well, seeing as they've made no move to stop you. However, your latest misadventures have occurred while you were under my jurisdiction – and frankly, I am NOT amused."

The twins didn't bat an eye.

"You will spend this evening in detention working with Professor Grubbly-Plank in cleaning the Owlery," he informed them. "You will do so without the use of magic. You will surrender your wands before leaving this room, and my men will search you thoroughly before you leave. They will also escort you to the Owlery and keep guard over you. If you attempt to flee or attack either my men or Professor Grubbly-Plank, there will be serious consequences."

"Yes sir," they chimed in unison, placing their wands in Vader's hand.

The troopers herded the two of them out.

"That certainly isn't the worst punishment they've ever received," Dumbledore noted.

"It would have been harsher," Vader snorted, watching the door shut behind them. "But Grubbly-Plank specifically requested their aid tonight."

"You did well enough," he assured him. "But as you can well imagine, I did not come here to discuss Fred and George."

Vader seated himself behind the scorched desk. "What is it?"

"I have noticed that your relations with the other teachers are somewhat... less than cordial," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"For starters," Dumbledore said wryly, "the Astronomy professor has a fifty-Galleon wager with me regarding the outcome of your inevitable duel with Professor Snape. Also, I've been informed that you've had your men bodily haul Trelawney back to her tower on several occasions."

Vader made a sound best described as a snarl. "Perhaps you should be discussing this with those two. Snape is the one seeking me out to make threats and insults. And Trelawney is a distinct threat to my sanity."

"I have already had words with Snape," Dumbledore replied. "But I feel impressed to warn you to not cross Snape, Vader. He can be an invaluable ally... or a dangerous foe. I have cause to know this."

"Understood," Vader replied in a tone of distinct exasperation. "Is that all?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Try to warm up to the other teachers, Professor Vader," he encouraged. "We may be a bunch of old codgers, but we don't bite. And Trelawney's perfectly harmless, I can assure you. You need not give her a twenty-foot berth every time she passes you in the corridors. And the next time she invites you to her office for a reading of your future, why not comply? It certainly can't hurt anything, can it?"

"The woman is deranged," Vader retorted. "She was in here at the beginning of the term, raving about prophecies and the stars and the Inner Eye..."

"Yes, she can be a little dramatic. But try to humor her. I'm sure she becomes quite lonely up in her tower and could use a visit from time to time."

He stood and flicked his wand at Vader's desk, and the wood refurnished itself to its original glossy chestnut. "Have a good evening, Vader."

"May the Force be with you, Dumbledore," Vader replied as Dumbledore left the office.

---------

A hollow rapping at the drawing room door signaled the Emperor's arrival.

"Let him in, Wormtail," Voldemort ordered.

The tiny wizard scuttled to the door and swung it open. Two men in flaming-red robes and helmets immediately swept in, escorting a twisted robed creature with glowing orange eyes.

"Good evening, your Highness," Voldemort said smoothly, bowing at the waist.

"Lord Voldemort," the Emperor replied, nodding. "Your colleague Malfoy informed me that you wished to transact business of some sort."

"That I do." He gestured to the two richly embroidered chairs before the fireplace. "Won't you sit down and refresh yourself? I'm sure you've had a long journey."

"Guards, leave us," Palpatine ordered, and his escort immediately strode out the door.

"Wormtail, light a fire," hissed Voldemort.

"Y-yes, M-m-master." He shot a burst of flame from his wand into the hearth, and a hearty blaze roared to life.

"So you are the famed Lord Voldemort," the Emperor noted, dust fluming up from the chair as he lowered himself into it. "Known among your own people as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"It is a mark of power to know that your very name is considered too evil to repeat," Voldemort replied with a reptilian grin.

Palpatine laughed icily. "I like you, Voldemort. You and I seem to have much in common."

"Indeed. I would have scheduled this meeting many years earlier, but there have been... difficulties."

"Ah yes. I heard of your supposed 'death.' Though I must say it did wonders for your operations. Now that you're 'dead,' the Ministry of Magic doesn't need to keep an eye out for you, does it?"

It was Voldemort's turn to give a cold laugh. "And I suppose they told you I was going to take over the Empire, didn't they?"

Palpatine eyed him shrewdly. "If you weren't plotting a galactic takeover once you had this world in your clutches, you wouldn't be a Dark Lord, my friend."

"True enough. But I haven't the resources to take your Empire by force. Which is why I asked you to meet me here."

"What, if you can't beat them, join them?" the Emperor chuckled.

"Why not? If we join forces, we can be unstoppable. We could rule the galaxy together, with the Dark Arts as our ally."

The Emperor's smile widened. "You forget, Lord Voldemort, that the rule of the Sith is 'always two.' I already have an ally in my cause to subjugate the galaxy."

"Ah, Lord Vader," Voldemort sneered. "The cyborg employed by Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Perhaps that's one more thing we have in common, Palpatine – incompetent assistants." He fired a jet of blue light at Wormtail's backside, and he yelped shrilly and scuttled away as the two men laughed maliciously.

"Ever since he dueled his son on Cloud City, he's been acting decidedly odd," Palpatine mused, stroking his chin. "I wonder if he isn't contemplating joining the light."

"If he's under Dumbledore's influence, then I highly doubt he'll remain loyal to you for long."

"Good point. Perhaps it's time to replace Vader. I shall have to send an assassin to Hogwarts..."

"Not necessarily," countered Voldemort. "Think of it. Dumbledore is our greatest enemy. And Vader is still at least partially loyal to you and still believes he's your right-hand man. We have a potential spy on our hands – and he doesn't even realize that he will be plotting his own destruction by keeping you updated on what's going on inside Hogwarts."

Palpatine's eyes glittered malevolently. "You have a brilliant mind, Voldemort. Wicked, but brilliant. I think our partnership will be most productive." He stood and shook Voldemort's claw-like hand. "I shall have to send a message to my worthless apprentice. There are things we must know."