Chapter 8 – Legend of the Chosen One

The black-haired boy staggered back, the ruby-hilted sword clumsy in his hands. His vibrant green eyes reflected terror, not surprising considering the enormous snake that weaved drunkenly toward him, its eye sockets bleeding as if gouged out. At the bidding of a ghostly-pale wraith of a boy that watched the action from the sidelines, the serpent lunged, and the first boy lifted his sword…

Luke opened his eyes. Another of these visions – why did they never cease? Why couldn't he just be left in peace during his meditations?

"Luke, you okay?" asked Wedge, looking up from an astromech he was reprogramming.

"Probably another one of those magic dreams he's been having," joked a mechanic from nearby.

"Shut up, Grad," Wedge snapped.

"Don't worry, I'm used to it by now," Luke told Wedge.

Of late he'd become a sort of running joke among the Alliance. For the past few months he'd been experiencing odd flashbacks of memory… but never his own memories. And the images he witnessed were always incredibly fantastic – and always of the same black-haired, green-eyed, scar-faced boy. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he was with a bushy-haired girl or redheaded boy, and sometimes a snow-white bird or a silver horned animal accompanied him. And always he seemed to be facing down some hideous beast or other danger – the aforementioned snake, a giant spider, a dragon, but most frequently that reptilian-visaged sorcerer with black robes and haunting red eyes.

Unfortunately, he'd made the mistake of reporting these visions to High Command – and the Alliance had a field day with them.

Luke sighed, then pulled out a datapad and started typing. Even if no one else thought the visions were of worth, at least he could keep a record of them.

"Luke?"

He glanced up. "Hey, Leia. How's Han doing?"

"Much better," she replied. "If Chewie would stop smothering him, of course."

He laughed. Just yesterday they had come back from Tatooine, having finally destroyed Jabba the Hutt and rescued Han from his clutches. Han had been taken straight to the med center for treatment of his hibernation sickness, but Luke was sure he'd make a full recovery.

"Mothma wants a word with you," Leia told him.

"Okay. Be right there." He turned off the datapad. "Anything wrong?"

"Not that I know of. When I left, High Command discussing the rumors that Boba Fett was working for the Emperor."

"That might explain why there wasn't any sign of him at Jabba's palace."

"Possibly. But I doubt they want to discuss Boba Fett with you."

He groaned. "Don't tell me Mothma thinks I've lost my mind."

"I can't say, Luke."

Mothma herself met them at her office door.

"Come inside, Skywalker. Organa, you may go."

Luke entered the sparse office and sat down. "Something wrong, ma'am?"

She sat down behind her desk, folding her hands before her. "You told us some time ago that you had been having visions… possibly sparked by the Force."

He knew it. "Yes, I did."

She nodded. "Have these continued since then?"

He hesitated. If he confessed that the visions had indeed continued, would she deem him unstable and pull him from active duty? But he didn't want to give Mothma any indication that he was untrustworthy, especially considering…

"Yes. In fact, one just came to me before you sent for me."

"Really?" One eyebrow lifted inquiringly. "And what exactly do these visions deal with?"

What the stang, he thought resignedly. I've told her this much, might as well tell her the rest. "I've kept a record of them," he told her, handing her the datapad. "They all depict a boy, possibly an Earth wizard."

She leaned forward a bit. "What does he look like?"

"Um… he's about fifteen years old. Messy black hair, green eyes, old-fashioned corrective lenses, robes…"

"And a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt down his forehead?" Mothma asked.

Luke felt his mouth drop open. "How did you know?"

She activated a holoprojector. On her desk materialized an image of the boy that had haunted his thoughts for the past four months.

"What the stang?" he gaped.

"The boy you have been seeing is known as Harry Potter," she explained. "He's a celebrity of sorts in the wizarding world. He attends the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, whose Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, has recently contacted the Alliance and wishes for a select group of wizards to join us."

"His entire school?"

"No. An underground organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. He further states that the Ministry of Magic is seeking an alliance of power with the Empire – and that he has evidence that Emperor Palpatine is working hand-in-hand with Lord Voldemort, one of the most powerful and evil wizards on Earth, though for what purpose he does not know."

"Since when has the Empire cared about Earth?"

"Since four months ago, when Dumbledore hired Darth Vader to work at Hogwarts as a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"He WHAT!"

"Hired Vader to work in his school. Apparently the Emperor has temporarily dismissed Vader from his service, and he elected to apply for work at the school. From what I understand, Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he hadn't been the only applicant for the job."

He shook his head, stunned. What a tangled web had been woven! Darth Vader, who was quite possibly his father, working at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore, head of Hogwarts, seeking to join the Alliance while the rest of wizardkind cast their lot in with the Empire, and the Emperor himself working with an infamous dark wizard…

"Dumbledore fears for the safety of this Potter boy," Mothma explained. "For reasons he cannot divulge, Potter's services are invaluable for overthrowing Voldemort. And if the magical government succeeds in merging with the Empire, his life will be in untold danger." She deactivated the holo. "You have been having visions of Potter, Skywalker. Thus, I have decided to assign you the task of meeting with Dumbledore at the All Hallows Eve festivities at Hogwarts to discuss Potter's safety at the school."

"Um… if Vader's at the school…"

"Dumbledore has assured me that he can keep a firm watch over Vader's actions," Mothma replied. "I have his assurances that you will be in no danger."

He relaxed a touch. "Then I'll do it."

"Thank you. Dumbledore will be expecting you a week from today. You are dismissed."

-

Harry awakened to the sound of voices in the hallway just outside the Gryffindor common room – angry voices, and one sounded suspiciously like Cornelius Fudge.

He, Ron, and Hermione had fallen asleep in front of the fire, the Star Wars book still open on Hermione's lap. His face lay across a picture of a TIE fighter, his cheek sticking to the paper, and he peeled it away before standing and carefully opening the portal a crack.

"…I know you had something to do with this, Dumbledore! Tell us – where is the Muggle?"

"I've told you before," he heard Dumbledore say lightly. "I left Mr. Fett in the very capable hands of Madam Pomfrey. She gave him a calming draught and went to tend to a stormtrooper who'd developed an unusual blue rash on his nether regions. When she came back, he was gone."

"The Muggle had a Leg-Locking Curse on him!" Fudge screamed. "Do you mean to tell me that a man without a breath of magic in him threw off a curse and made it out of this castle without anyone seeing him?"

"Oh, that's always possible," Dumbledore replied. "There are too many secret passages in Hogwarts to count, you know. And as even I don't pretend to know everything there is to know about the Muggles of the Empire, it's very possible they harbor some measure of immunity against our spells."

Some unintelligible little growls and squeaks issued from Fudge's mouth before he spoke again. "I'll find where you've hidden the Muggle, Dumbledore, if I have to bring in Azkaban guards to search Hogwarts from dungeons to towers!"

"After being attacked by wizard students, I doubt Fett will have any desire to remain in this castle, Fudge," Dumbledore replied calmly, the threat of dementors not fazing him in the least. "You'll only be wasting your time and needlessly endangering my students."

He didn't catch the rest of their conversation, as they'd already walked out of earshot. Carefully he slipped out into the hallway, wincing as his bare feet touched the icy stone floor. Fett was loose? And Fudge wanted to search the school for him? Just what had gone on last night?

"Potter."

"AUGH!" he yelped, whirling, wand at the ready. "Oh, Professor Vader. You scared me."

Vader nodded understandingly. "With Boba Fett at large, you'd naturally be on edge."

Harry gazed at Vader a long time, conflicting emotions warring within him. Last night he and his friends had read a great deal about Vader – how he had once been a Jedi, how he had fallen to the dark side and become a Sith, and how his children were set on fighting a war against him, not knowing he was their father. He felt angry that Vader could be so stupid as to help the wicked Emperor further his plans to dominate the galaxy, yet he also pitied the man and wished he could do something to help him.

"Professor, can we talk?"

"Certainly. Follow me to my office."

The office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher always changed radically to suit its occupant's whimsy. When Lockhart had taken the post, the interior had been plastered with photographs, posters, and paintings of himself, all beaming and posing and flashing too-perfect smiles at anyone who entered. With Lupin, the office more often than not contained some caged creature, such as a kappa or a boggart, to be used in an object lesson next class period. Moody – or at least his imposter – had "decorated" the place with Dark Detectors to keep up the appearance of a paranoid ex-Auror. Vader, it seemed, had taken the minimalist route – apart from his desk, a single wooden chair, and some sort of miniature computer, there were no furnishings or other paraphernalia of any kind.

"What did you wish to discuss?" Vader inquired, taking a seat behind his desk.

"I was wondering – did you find out who sent Fett to Hogwarts?" he asked, sitting in the chair.

"I had the opportunity to question Fett before his escape," Vader replied. "He claims that both the Emperor and Lord Voldemort hired him."

Harry's stomach lurched. "Both of them? They're working together?"

"So says Fett," Vader replied. "I have contacted the Emperor regarding the report's accuracy, and I expect a reply soon. I had no knowledge of any such alliance, let me assure you."

Sure, like he'd really tell you if he was working with Voldemort, Harry thought.

A soot-stained barn owl swooped down the chimney, scorching its tail feathers on the still-glowing coals of the fire. It landed with an irritated screech on Vader's desk and dropped a slightly blackened letter on the desk.

"Is that from the Emperor?" asked Harry.

"From the Imperial Base in Scotland," Vader replied, smoothing the singed parchment out. "They have been handling my correspondences with the Emperor."

Harry bent forward to read the letter. Vader made no move to stop him.

Lord Vader,

Regarding your accusation that I have some sort of partnership with the self-styled Lord Voldemort, let me assure you that nothing of the sort is true. The only alliance being negotiated is that with the Ministry of Magic. Anything else is a baseless rumor concocted to undermine my credibility in the eyes of wizardkind.

It would seem that you have been swayed by the delusions of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. My understanding is that the man is unstable and will soon be removed from his post. Furthermore, his unbalanced state of mind could very well affect his ability to protect Hogwarts in the event of an attack by the Rebellion. And once the negotiations between the Ministry and the Empire have been completed, Hogwarts WILL be a prime target for the Rebellion.

Consider your true allegiances, my apprentice, and decide for yourself who is telling the truth and who is simply seeking to delude you. Keep your eyes open and report anything suspicious to me.

Emperor Palpatine

"I don't believe him," Harry stated bluntly.

"It's always difficult to ascertain how much of what the Emperor says is truth," Vader replied, folding the parchment carefully to avoid crumbling its burnt edges. "But that will be for me to decide, Potter. If you are finished asking questions, you may go."

"But I'm not finished asking questions," Harry replied. "Why are you serving him anyway? Isn't he evil? From what I hear, he's worse than Voldemort, and that's saying something. So why do you bash Voldemort but insist on doing what the Emperor says?"

"Potter, you're rambling again…" Vader began.

"And he hasn't done you any favors, has he? He made you destroy the Jedi Order, he's forcing you to either corrupt or kill your son, he's ordering you around like some lapdog or servant…"

Vader's hand gripped his arm painfully. "How do you know all this?" he hissed.

Harry winced, and not just because his arm felt like it was caught in a vise. He'd just said too much! Hermione had made it clear to him that the Empire had no clue that the Muggle world even knew of their existence, much less almost the complete life story of Darth Vader and his progeny.

"Everyone knows… leastways all the Muggles do and those who pay attention… ow! Leggo my arm!"

"This isn't possible," Vader snarled. "We've had no contact of any sort with Muggles."

"Seer…" Harry replied, face screwed up in pain as Vader's angry grip tightened on his arm. "Seer named Lucas… made some movies about you…"

Vader released his arm, staring at Harry as if shocked. "Lucas… told the Muggle world…" He stood and strode over to the office's only window, staring out across the grounds, hands clasped behind his back. Harry rubbed his arm and scooted his chair away from the professor, having no desire to set him off again.

"Go back to Gryffindor tower, Potter," Vader said at last. "Do not mention what you have learned to anyone. Do you understand me?"

"Professor, why do you serve the Emperor?" he demanded. "I have to know. You have a place here. You don't have to go back to him once your year at Hogwarts is up."

"You don't know the power of the dark side, Potter," Vader replied so quietly Harry could barely hear him. "I must obey my master."

Harry waited a little longer, but Vader said nothing else. He stepped outside and walked back to the tower, thinking about what Vader had said.

-

The story had been in the Jedi Archives for so long that no one could decide for sure if it was fact or fiction. In fact, the only reason it had remained in the records at all was because it concerned the wizarding world as well as the Jedi Order. Some Jedi had dismissed it entirely, while others had taken the other extreme and studied it at great length. At any rate, the story had lived on, even when the Jedi Archives were looted and erased by the Empire.

Vader didn't move from the window for a long time. Potter's mention of Lucas only served to breathe new life into the once-dead tale. He'd been trying for years to forget the story that had been repeated endlessly in his presence. Now, however, it would bear rediscovery.

The Chosen One, he thought bitterly. They all honestly believed I was the Chosen One. Because some fool wizard named Lucas had the rotten luck to give prophecy in the presence of the Jedi Council concerning one who would bring balance to the Force, I was hailed as a demigod and expected to be the perfect Jedi, to never sway from the Codes and to be the model Padawan for my wretched ill-lucked Master. If it hadn't been for that blasted Lucas, it never would have come to this.

But Potter had spoken about Lucas as if he were a contemporary character, not some figure of history. Vader presumed the man Potter referred to was a descendent who had inherited the clairvoyant gift. That would explain his intimate knowledge of Vader's life. He ground his teeth in fury. So this younger Lucas would follow in his many-times-great-grandfather's footsteps and proceed to ruin his life yet again!

He strained to keep his anger toward Harry in check. He couldn't hate the boy. He'd only been regurgitating facts. And his remark about his service to the Emperor stung so badly only because it had been true. He was indeed little more than an indentured servant to the dictator – and he continued to attend to the man's whimsy only because he knew of no other possible course.

You have a place here. Could he really continue serving Dumbledore? The man did seem given to bizarre theories, but he didn't seem to be the delusional man the Emperor claimed him to be.

He returned to his desk and picked up the Emperor's message. A second, smaller scrap of parchment fell out of the envelope, and he picked it up and scanned it.

A final note,

Intelligence reports indicate a Rebel representative is being sent to Hogwarts at the end of this month. Find a means of recording this conversation and send the details to me as soon as possible.

Do not fail me again.

Emperor Palpatine.

-

The Honeyduke's Candy Shop in the village of Hogsmead was silent and darkened, its owners still snoring away in their apartment upstairs. Brightly polished marble counters and glass jars of sweets gleamed in the morning light that trickled in through the windows. Display cases sat empty, awaiting the morning shift, where they would be filled with sweetmeats and delicacies of every variety. Even though the shop had been scrubbed top to bottom last night, the aroma of buttery toffee and melted chocolate could still be detected.

From the back room of the shop emerged Fred, George, and Boba Fett, brushing dust from their clothes. The secret passage had led them directly to this establishment's basement.

"Not bad, eh?" Fred asked with a grin. "Crate of Filibuster Fireworks distracted the stormtroopers quite nicely. And we only had to hex Filch and five students to make it to the passage, that's got to be a record."

"S'long as no one figures out where Filch got his wings from," George replied. "Then again, Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions."

"This is where we part company, boys," Fett told them, striding out from behind the counter and going for the door. "Though I want to thank you for your services."

"No problem, have a Chocolate Frog before you go," Fred replied, plucking the candy from an open box and tossing it to Fett.

"Fred, really, you're not stealing!" George said with mock horror.

"We don't steal from customers, brother-of-mine," Fred replied, pointing to a box with three golden Ws gracing the side. "Honeyduke's paid well to carry Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' Canary Creams and Skivving Snackboxes, remember?" He opened the cash register with a flick of his wand and dropped a handful of Sickles inside.

"Well, s'long as you're paying," George replied, and he tossed Fett a box of Jelly Slugs, a slab of toffee, and three bags of Everyflavor Beans, then scooped up some fudge for Fred and himself. "Cheers, my good fellow."

"May the Force be with you," Fett told them, and he exited the shop as quietly as possible.

Fred and George watched him go, each chewing thoughtfully on bricks of fudge.

"Nice fellow," Fred mused.

"Great fashion sense," George added.

"And good of you to warn him about the shape-changing properties of the toffee."

"I didn't. I thought you did."

"Ah, he'll figure it out soon enough on his own."

"Wonder if we'll ever see him again."

"Bet your bottom Galleon we will, brother."

"Let's go before the owners wake up."

"Capital idea."