Chapter 9 – Choices and Paths

It seemed Hogwarts was going to pull out all the stops for this year's Halloween feast. Lit jack-o-lanterns hovered over the tables, their candles flickering eerily. Other carved pumpkins, each as large as the school's carriages, were arranged along the walls, illuminated by large lanterns. Live bats swooped over the tables, eliciting the occasional shriek or blast from a wand. Vast orange and black streamers seemed to hang suspended by nothing, and the enchanted ceiling depicted a clear, velvety-blue sky set with a golden moon and a dusting of stars. Dumbledore had even hired a troupe of skeletons for the night's entertainment, and these were now setting up their performance area next to the staff table.

"Dumbledore hired these skeletons a few years back," Fred told them. "Too bad you three missed them."

"We were at Sir Nicholas' Deathday party that year," Hermione explained.

"I notice he hasn't invited us since," Ron remarked, piling his plate high with black pudding.

"He probably stopped holding them after the Headless Hunt crashed the party and made fun of the fact that he wasn't entirely headless," Harry replied.

A particularly large bat dove for a fruit platter, making off with a cluster of grapes. Dean fired at it but missed.

"Mr. Thomas, there will be no attacking the bats!" McGonagall informed him crisply, striding by at that moment to take her place at the table.

"What're we supposed to do to keep 'em out of our plates?" Dean demanded.

"I highly doubt you'll starve to death if a bat makes off with your supper tonight, Mr. Thomas," she replied.

Dean rolled his eyes once she was out of earshot. "She's in a mood tonight."

"Wonder why," Harry mumbled, shoveling treacle tart into his mouth. "And I wonder why Dumbledore's late. He never misses a Halloween feast."

Another wand-shot crackled through the air, and a group of Ravenclaws squealed in disgust as a Stunned bat landed with a splat in the middle of a soup tureen.

"Detention, Mr. Montague!" McGonagall snapped, altering her course to march toward the Slytherin. "There'll be no feast for you tonight!"

"S'long as she takes her mood out on the Slytherins, I don't mind," Ginny said with a grin. She pointed up at the staff table. "And hey, Professor Vader's dressed for the occasion."

"He's always dressed for Halloween," Fred teased, spearing a chicken drumstick.

"Great space-vampire costume he's got," George added.

Harry remained silent. He hadn't yet told Ron or Hermione about his meeting with Vader a week ago. He doubted they'd be very happy that he'd told Vader that the Muggle world knew of his existence.

He wasn't sure exactly what to feel toward Vader. Anger, yes, for being such a git about his master and for helping the Empire maintain its stranglehold on the galaxy at large, but in a strange way he also pitied him. He was truly in a difficult position, his loyalties caught in a tug-of-war between the Emperor and Dumbledore. Hermione would continue to protest that Vader was a Sith and a mass murderer, but Harry knew there was more to him than that. And he wondered if he could convince him to totally join Dumbledore – and the Order of the Phoenix.

Dumbledore strode into the Great Hall at that moment, followed by a cloaked, hooded being that Harry might have mistaken for a dementor had he not known Dumbledore's intense dislike toward the creatures. The cloaked one sat down at an empty spot at the end of the staff table and helped himself to a plateful of roast while Dumbledore took his usual place and struck up a lively conversation with Professor Sprout.

"Who's that?" asked Ron.

"Dunno," Harry replied. "Member of the Order, maybe?"

"Why doesn't he tell us who it is?" Ron wondered.

"Do you really think he'd stand up and introduce a member of the Order?" Hermione demanded. "What if it were Padfoot under there?"

Sirius! Harry craned his neck and tried to get a glimpse of the face beneath that hood. Was that really his godfather? But his heart sank when he spotted the man's sand-colored hair, nothing like Sirius' jet-black mane…

Blue eyes locked with his own eyes for a split second, and he felt a jolt of recognition.

"It's Luke Skywalker!" he hissed to Hermione.

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Quiet!" Hermione snapped. To Harry she said, "Are you sure it's him?"

"Positive. Look for yourself."

Hermione stared a long time at the man, until he moved his head just right and inadvertently offered a brief glimpse of his profile. "It's him, all right," she noted. "Though why would he be here? Professor Vader would capture him if he knew he was here."

"Not with Dumbledore around," Ron replied. "If Snape could beat Vader in a duel, Dumbledore could whip him in a heartbeat."

"Snape only won because he cheated," Harry reminded him. "And duels aren't Dumbledore's style."

"But you notice he's sticking around the Headmaster," Ron pointed out. "He knows as long as he hangs out with Dumbledore, he's safe."

At that moment one of the skeletons drew a bow over the fraying strings of a splintering violin, creating a melody that seemed a hybrid of "Greensleeves" and a catfight. As one the students and teachers dropped whatever they were holding and clamped their hands over their ears.

"OUCH!" screamed Neville.

"Just making sure you're paying attention, everyone," Dumbledore announced, a cheery smile on his face. "And without further ado, let's have a hand for tonight's entertainment – The Bones Brothers!"

Three of the skeletons stepped forward, bowed gracefully to the applauding students, and commenced a lively tumbling act, their joints clattering all the while. Harry laughed and cheered with everyone else, forgetting for a moment about Dumbledore's guest.

Potter.

Harry winced involuntarily. Can you please give me some warning before you do that?

My apologies. I notice you've taken a keen interest in our visitor.

Yeah, he replied warily. What's it to you?

Then you know of my son, Luke Skywalker.

Harry's jaw almost fell before he could catch himself. I didn't realize you knew who that was.

Luke is strong in the Force – very strong. No matter how well he disguises himself, I can sense his presence.

Why's he here?

That I cannot say. However, I sense you may have some idea…

Harry clamped off his thoughts. Dumbledore had informed the three of them that no mention of the Order of the Phoenix's pending partnership with the Rebel Alliance was to escape…

It took all his strength to keep from making an agonized grimace as his scar prickled unbearably, and the all-too-familiar rippling motion entered his brain.

Don't read my mind!

Interesting. Very interesting indeed. An alliance… this could be detrimental to Dumbledore's career, I believe…

I hate you!

Potter, if I cannot pound anything else into your skull this term at Hogwarts, then at least understand this – this goes far beyond the fate of your school. This concerns the fate of the entire wizard world… and the galaxy. We must win the war against the Alliance, and to do that we must purge the Empire of those who would weaken us by plotting with the enemy.

The enemy is Voldemort! Don't you see that? If you want to fight somebody, fight him, not Dumbledore! Dumbledore's only trying to protect us from Voldemort! And if he thinks getting some help from the Rebellion will help us overthrow the Dark Lord…

Something lashed against Harry's mind, and he fell to the floor.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione.

Startled voices rippled in his ears, and the clattering stopped as the skeleton dance came to an abrupt halt. He could hear Dumbledore's concerned voice and McGonagall's orders for everyone to back away. Groaning, he tried to stand, but his scar burned again, and Vader's voice burned just as coldly in his mind.

From this moment on, the partnership between the Alliance and Dumbledore is none of your concern. It is mine, and mine alone, to deal with as I see fit. If you interfere again, I will be forced to take drastic measures.

His throat constricted as if an invisible noose had tightened around his neck, then Vader's influence withdrew.

"Harry, are you all right?"

Harry opened his eyes to find Dumbledore gazing down at him concernedly.

"Headmaster… I don't feel good…" How he wished he could speak to the Headmaster with his mind, just as he could with Vader!

Dumbledore seemed to read Harry's eyes, however, for he nodded slowly in understanding. "I will be escorting Potter to the hospital wing. I'll need the Gryffindor prefects to help me carry him. McGonagall, carry on in my stead."

"Yes, Headmaster," she replied. She leveled a stern look upon the gawkers, who scattered back to their tables at once.

-

"Blimey," Ron breathed, gaping at Harry once he'd finished telling about his conversation with Vader. "I didn't realize he was that violent…"

"Choking through the Force is one of his favorite methods of execution," Hermione informed him as if reciting from a textbook. "But I didn't think he'd ever try it on a student!" she added with a great deal of vehemence.

Dumbledore looked grave. "Then Vader knows. This will complicate things."

"I'm sorry, Dumbledore," began Harry.

"This is not your fault, Harry," he replied. "Rather, it's the fault of an old fool who thought he could keep a secret from a Sith Lord. Vader is not one to be underestimated – as I'm sure Snape will soon find to his detriment." Surprisingly, a smile quirked the corners of his mouth. "But all is not lost. Now that the ranks are forming and the battle lines have been drawn, Vader cannot go much longer without making a clear choice. Soon he will have to select one master or another."

"But now that Vader knows about the alliance, won't that put you in danger?" asked Harry.

"I don't plan on leaving this school anytime soon," Dumbledore replied calmly. "And I think Vader will be particularly surprised by just how his information is used by the Empire."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

Dumbledore shook his head. "That is for a later date. Thank you, Harry, for telling me. I will see to it that Vader is reprimanded for using magic inappropriately on you."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Headmaster."

"Now back to the feast, all of you. I have a meeting to keep with Skywalker."

-

Luke strolled through the corridors of Hogwarts, entranced. There was so much here to dazzle the eye and the mind! Moving pictures were certainly no novelty, but pictures that could talk and interact with you? Ghosts were nothing new, of course, but the poltergeist (who he had yet to meet but had heard plenty about) was a totally unfamiliar concept. And secret chambers, moving staircases, shifting doors… wow! He wondered if the old Jedi Temple had been anything like this. Probably not – Hogwarts was bizarre enough to rattle the brains of even Master Yoda.

He sank into his own thoughts as he continued walking. The discussion with Dumbledore had gone very well indeed – they could count on the full support of the Order of the Phoenix in the battle against the Empire, it would seem. But Dumbledore had also warned him that the Empire already knew of their alliance, thanks to Vader forcibly extracting the information from a luckless student. Dumbledore did seem confident, however, that Vader was not as great an enemy as most would believe.

Sure, he could say that. He hadn't had to live under the threat of the Dark Lord's saber. And he'd never had said Dark Lord announce that he was blood kin to him, either.

He sighed wearily as he descended a staircase, minding what Dumbledore had told him and skipping the trick step. Vader his father… it was still so hard to comprehend. And the man couldn't have been lying, because both Yoda and Obi-wan had confirmed the fact just a little over a week ago. How would the Rebellion react when they discovered that uncomfortable link?

His thoughts were interrupted by an explosion of water atop his head.

"PEEVES!"

The grinning, cackling poltergeist only lobbed another balloon at him in reply. This one struck him in the chest, further soaking his robes.

"Scared of a little water?" giggled Peeves, a third balloon flying from his hand to hit Luke in the face.

Spluttering, Luke ducked through the nearest door, slamming it just as a fourth balloon burst against the wall where he had been standing.

"Oh, c'mon out and play, stranger!" Peeves pleaded, a wet splash indicating another thrown balloon. "You'd much rather be out here with me than in there with that mean and cranky Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, wouldn't you?"

"What?" Luke whirled.

Vader was standing behind a desk in what was obviously his office, just as stunned by Luke's sudden entrance as Luke was by his presence. For a tense moment they simply stared at each other, the rhythmic hiss of a respirator and the slow drip of water the only sound.

Vader was the first to recover. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a wand.

"You wouldn't dare…" began Luke.

"Dehydro," Vader intoned.

His robes, which had been clinging damply to his skin, now suddenly hung dry and loose on his frame. There was no sign that he had suffered an attack from Peeves.

"Sorry," Luke replied sheepishly. "I thought you were going to…"

"Understood," Vader interrupted.

Luke almost put his hand to the doorknob, more willing to face Peeves than Darth Vader. But he hesitated, then let his hand drop. If he was going to confront his father, this was as good a time as any.

"You must be very brave to come to Hogwarts knowing I was here," Vader noted. "Or very foolish." He cocked his head, evidently expecting Luke to choose an option.

"I was scared at first," Luke admitted. "But I chose to face my past and my fears, rather than run from them."

Vader seemed to tense at that statement. Luke swore he saw his hackles rise. Then the Dark Lord turned and walked to the far end of the room.

"We are not entirely free to talk yet," he explained, and he reached toward a small, almost inconspicuous crack in the ceiling and jerked a long flesh-colored strand of material from it.

"Hey, give that back!" shouted a young man on the other end of the crack.

"Detention for both of you, Fred and George Weasley," Vader retorted.

"You're a real spoilsport, you know," another young man – or was it the same one? – retorted.

"Not like we're Rebel spies," chimed in the other.

"Don't you have any idea how long it took us to make a crack in this floor?"

"Can we please have our Extendable Ear back? Those aren't cheap to make…"

"No," Vader retorted. "Now go before I dock points from Gryffindor."

The boys grumbled, but no more voices came from the crack. Vader threw the Extendable Ear into the fireplace, where it burst into bright blue flames.

"They really didn't mean any harm, I'm sure," Luke said with a smile.

"They will learn respect for a Sith," Vader replied. "Repairo."

The crack in the ceiling vanished. Satisfied that no one else would eavesdrop, he turned his entire attention to Luke.

"You have matured," he said slowly. "You have indeed grown powerful, as the Emperor foretold."

Luke nodded. "I know… Father."

Vader returned the nod. "So you have accepted the truth."

Luke decided to be blunt. "I've accepted that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father…"

"That name no longer has any meaning for me," Vader retorted sternly.

"It's the name of your true self," Luke countered. "You've only forgotten."

Vader folded his arms across his chest plate, seeming to exude exasperation. "Anakin Skywalker is dead. Dead from the treachery Obi-wan Kenobi inflicted upon him. I am Darth Vader, and I am your father. Accept it."

Luke shook his head. "I refuse to accept that, Father. I know there is some good in you. And the headmaster knows it as well. Why do you think he hired you in the first place?"

"Because the alternative was to allow the Ministry of Magic to fill the post with their own informant," Vader replied frankly.

Luke decided not to press that particular line of questioning.

"If you are through, Skywalker, I suggest you leave before I order your arrest," Vader advised.

Luke smirked. "You won't as long as Dumbledore's your boss."

Vader snorted electronically. "Smart-mouth."

"As a matter of fact, as long as you're in his employ, there's a lot of things you can't do, isn't there? No choking people, no torture droids, your soldiers can't shoot anyone…"

"You are right that there are activities he prohibits," Vader replied, cutting him off. "But he is a just man. There are always reasons for his actions."

"He sounds like a fair man," Luke acknowledged. "You might consider a permanent post here, you know. It sounds like you've been quite a success here."

Vader glowered at him a moment. "I am a Sith, Luke, not a wizard. After this term, I go back to the Empire. There is no alternative."

"You always have a choice," Luke replied.

"There are no choices under the servitude of the dark side. You will understand someday."

"I don't intend to join the dark side."

"You will, Luke. One way or another."

Luke opened the door. "There are always choices, Father. You know that." He stepped into the doorway and turned back to face Vader. "I've made choices to serve the light side of the Force. It's not too late for you to choose that road as well."

And with that, he left Vader's office and headed for the main gates of Hogwarts.

-

The Forbidden Forest was off-limits to all Hogwarts students, and for good reason. This was the domain of the centaurs, the unicorns, the thestrals, the creatures of the night. Rumor had it that werewolves, acromantulas, and even a feral Muggle car lived in these woods. Few, if any, of these denizens of the forest appreciated the company of wizards, and any who entered without adequate protection were practically begging to be ambushed and devoured, or worse.

Vader thought it a perfect spot for a contemplative walk. With the reputation of these woods, he would be unlikely to be disturbed.

A thestral watched him pass with eerie white eyes, the tight black hide over its skeletal frame gleaming in the moonlight. He kept walking, but his thoughts stayed on the beast for a time. Only those who had seen death could see the thestrals; they were invisible to anyone else. A symbol of death… like himself.

Luke's comment rankled – probably because it was true. He had made choices, and those choices had led him to his current situation as a slave to the dark side. And he had conned himself into believing that he had no other recourse but to remain the demon he was. Which, in a way, wasn't far off – if Palpatine learned that he was even considering turning to the light, he would order his death.

Both Harry and Luke made it sound so easy, didn't they? Just ask Dumbledore to make his post at Hogwarts permanent. But it wasn't that simple… was it?

A small hill blocked his path, and he debated for a moment whether to make a detour around it or attempt to scale it. But noisy footsteps alerted him to Hagrid's approach, and he stepped into the shadows as the overlarge man approached the hill, carrying a huge sack over his shoulder.

"Hey Grawp!" Hagrid announced, stopping at the base of the rise. "Wake up! I brought you supper! Grawp, Hagrid's here!"

The mound stirred, then rose to its feet, making the earth under Vader's feet shudder. He watched, awed. What he'd taken to be a small hill was actually a massive creature, large enough to dwarf Hagrid, which was no mean feat.

"Grawpy, I got you dinner!" Hagrid told his… friend? Pet? Who knew?

"HAGGERRRRR…" the creature growled, gazing dimly at the gamekeeper.

Vader decided to leave before he was noticed, and he took a different path away from the two giants. Well, this was certainly a night of surprises!

His thoughts came to rest, inexplicably, on Trelawney… and her prophecy. There was no doubt in his mind that she had truly delivered prophecy that night he had gone to her tower for a reading. But it was a riddle, as most prophecies were. Dark Lords uniting… betrayed and betrayer… the stag and the dragon… Chosen Ones…

So there were two Chosen Ones. Was the prophecy speaking of another? Or, perhaps, it meant the reuniting of Anakin and Vader – his turning to the light. He dismissed the notion. Anakin and Vader could not exist at the same time. Could the other truly be Harry Potter, as he had first wondered when coming to Hogwarts? And what were the stag and dragon referred to in the prophecy?

Something rustled behind him, and he whirled, saber in hand but not ignited yet. Dumbledore had made it clear that, should he chance a journey into the Forbidden Forest, he was not to injure a centaur or unicorn. Dumbledore had a pact with the centaurs that he had no wish to damage, and legend had it that any who killed a unicorn was cursed for life.

This shape could be nothing of equine origin, however. Its hair-covered body was slung too low, it had too many legs…

He ignited his weapon, the scarlet light illuminating the horrid eight-eyed visage of a massive spider. The creature hissed at the light and reared on its back four legs, clattering its jaws threateningly. Landing back on all fours (eights?) with a thud, it dashed at him. Vader slashed, severing half of one front leg, and the beast screamed in agony.

Something rasped behind him, and he fell and rolled away. A second pair of jaws closed centimeters from him, drooling steaming venom onto the ground. Before he could react to this new foe, a third spider scuttled over to stand over him, bending down for a bite.

He rose to his knees and rammed his saber through the beast's abdomen. Thick green blood spilled over his arms, and it rasped a death scream before crashing to the ground. He yanked the weapon free and got to his feet… to find himself surrounded.

But not by spiders – by centaurs.

Arrows whirred by him, striking the two remaining spiders in the soft areas of their joints and gaps in their carapaces. Hissing in pain and frustrated at being denied a meal, the beasts scurried away. The centaurs lowered their bows and closed their circle to surround Vader.

"This one's a stranger," a black, wild-looking, bearded centaur remarked. "He can't be from the school."

"He could be one of the Dark Lord's followers," a bay with short blond hair theorized.

"Why are we all speaking about him as if he doesn't exist?" demanded a third, a chestnut with a proud, high-cheekboned visage and long black hair. He stepped forward. "Your name, human."

"Darth Vader, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes at Hogwarts."

The centaur nodded. "Magorian, leader of the centaurs. And I regret to inform you that you must be escorted from these woods immediately. We informed Dumbledore that humans will no longer be tolerated in our forest, but it would seem you were not given that message."

"I was never informed of that restriction." He bowed very slightly. "Very well. I will be leaving."

Three centaurs followed him to the edge of the forest. Two of them turned back as soon as he emerged, but a third, a palomino with pale hair, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"When you next meet Dumbledore," he whispered, "tell him that I, Firenze, am available to aid him if he requests it, even if my brethren will not."

Vader nodded. "I shall."

Firenze gazed into the night sky, then turned back to Vader. "Be very careful, Vader. Mars burns brightly this year – and your name is written in the stars close by. War is at hand, and I fear you will be involved. But who will you cast your lot with? The night… or the day?"

And with that cryptic, startling remark, the centaur melted into the forest as if he'd never existed.

-

Two days later, the Emperor and Voldemort shared a good laugh over Vader's latest letter. Their maniacal mirth made Wormtail cringe in terror and Nagini flee, hissing, at the uproar.

"An alliance between the Rebellion and Dumbledore!" hooted Voldemort, throwing the parchment into the fireplace. "The Rebels must be desperate!"

"War makes for strange partnerships," Palpatine remarked with a grin.

"Indeed it does." Voldemort wiped greasy tears of laughter from his eyes. "Ah, Palpatine, I can't stand it! This is too easy! The Alliance and Dumbledore joining forces – we can crush them both at once if we play this right!"

"Patience, my fellow Dark Lord," Palpatine told him. "All things take time. How much longer before you have the prophecy?"

"None of my men have been able to acquire it," he replied. "Remember, only those spoken of in a prophecy can pick it up. And I don't dare enter the Ministry. It would blow my cover too quickly."

"I see." Palpatine mused a moment. "If we could lure Potter to the Ministry…"

"Ah, and I know just the way." Voldemort leaned closer. "How much longer before the negotiations between the Empire and the Ministry go through?"

"A few minor disagreements are being cleared up," Palpatine replied. "The alliance treaty will be signed by mid-December, most likely."

"Then listen closely. I have a plan…"