Chapter 10 – Harry the Teacher, Vader the Student
The month of November passed rather uneventfully. Snow graced the grounds now, and students filled their free hours with snowball fights and sliding on the thickly iced-over lake. Even the stormtroopers, usually a rather stiff and gloomy-looking lot, enjoyed themselves, sometimes indulging in a snow war in their off hours.
But not everyone was cheered by the falling snow. Filch rounded on the students constantly for tracking in snow and leaving giant puddles in the corridors, though the latter could probably be attributed to the fact that Fred and George were testing their latest joke-shop product, the Portable Swamp. And the fifth years had little time for antics in the snow – a blizzard of extra homework was coming down upon them in drifts.
"Two scrolls of parchment on the properties of dragon-bone marrow for Potions, an essay on Vanishing Charms for Transfiguration, a report on the giant wars of 1360 for Magic History, a month's worth of dream journaling for Divination, a detailed composition on the twenty most deadly hexes and their counterhexes for Dark Arts…" moaned Ron, slamming his copy of The Dream Oracle shut. "I'll never get it all done."
"If you actually did the homework when you were supposed to, you wouldn't be in this mess," chided Hermione, finishing up the last sentence in her Runes homework. "You're a prefect, Ron, as I and your mother keep reminding you. You're supposed to be setting an example."
"Ease up, Hermione," Harry retorted. "It's not like there hasn't been a load else going on."
"Ron has less reason to be frazzled than you, Harry, yet he's farther behind than you," Hermione pointed out. "He doesn't have the entire Ministry of Magic or the Empire breathing down his neck…"
"Don't remind me," Harry complained, bending over his Charms essay in an effort to end that line of the conversation.
"Hey mate, Vader hasn't hassled you since the Halloween feast, has he?" Ron asked. "I mean, if he's threatened to…"
"He hasn't even looked at me since then," Harry replied.
"Good," Hermione said sharply. "In my opinion, he deserved much more than the reprimand Dumbledore gave him. I think he should have been sacked for what he did to Harry."
"Lay off, Hermione," Harry told her. "Vader's got problems of his own, you know."
"That doesn't excuse what he did to you!"
There was an explosion from near the fireplace, and a second year was propelled across the common room by the blast. Fred and George bolted over to make sure he was all right.
"He's perfectly fine," Fred assured everyone.
"Dosage was a pinch too strong," George added.
"We'll have to tweak the recipe on those Flying Fancies, won't we?" said Fred.
"At least we finally got the Tongue-Twister Taffies all worked out," George replied.
"You will NOT be testing your rubbish on the younger students!" Hermione said scathingly, storming toward the twins.
"C'mon, we're not forcing the stuff down their throats!" Fred protested.
Ron rolled his eyes. "What's her problem anyhow? They're not doing anything harmful."
"She's just stressed out over everything that's happened," Harry replied. "Plus she's mad at Professor Vader. Though I don't know why. Vader didn't choke her; she's got no place to complain."
"Hey Harry, your owl's at the window!" announced Colin.
Harry slid the window open to admit Hedwig. She shook melting snow from her feathers and gave a hoot of relief as she dropped her letter before Harry and went to dry herself before the fire. Crookshanks, Hermione's ginger cat, eyed her hungrily but subsided when she flexed her wicked-looking talons in return.
"Who's it from?" asked Ron, bending over. "Sirius?"
"No, he wrote this morning, remember?" Harry replied. "Told me off for getting so friendly with the Dark Arts teacher, that he was an Imperial and not to be trusted." He examined the envelope. "It's postmarked 'Espana.' Where's that?"
"That's what the Spanish call Spain," Hermione offered, coming back to sit at the table. "Is there a return address?"
"No." He ripped it open, withdrawing a sheet of paper that had obviously been printed out on a computer. "Hey, it's Muggle-made!"
"Let me see." Hermione took the paper from him and glanced over it. "That's the Rebel crest on the letterhead, Harry. You've gotten a letter from the Rebel Alliance."
He took the letter back and bent over it.
Dear Harry,
My name is Luke Skywalker. I don't think you know who I am, but I've heard a great deal about you and wanted to introduce myself.
"Course we know who he is…" began Ron.
"He doesn't know that," Harry replied, and he read on.
I'm Commander of Rogue Squadron – pilots who fly X-wing starfighters – and a Jedi Knight. Like you, I use the Force, or magic as you call it, though I don't use a wand. But on a more personal note, I'm also the son of your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Darth Vader, formerly known as Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.
I don't know much about my father – in fact, until last year I didn't even know he was my father. I do know, however, that he's fallen to the dark side. It's my hope that, by working at Hogwarts and staying in close contact with wizards and users of the light side, he may be redeemed and convert back to the light. But I know he can't do it alone.
I tried reasoning with my father during my visit to Hogwarts this last month, but I'm not sure I got through to him. I can't go back to Hogwarts for some time, for I'm needed with the Alliance. It's my hope that you might be able to help. Talk to him. Let him know your world is always open to him. Try to show him kindness. Maybe we can both contribute something to the redemption of Anakin Skywalker.
I've seen you sometimes during my meditations, Harry, and I'm amazed at the strength and courage you've shown in your trials and challenges. You are indeed a remarkable young man. I hope we can establish a friendship between us. Please send a letter back. Your owl's an intelligent animal. She'll be able to find our base.
Sincerely,
Luke Skywalker
"Right," Harry muttered sarcastically. "Don't think I haven't tried to talk sense into him, Luke. And he nearly broke my arm and strangled me in return."
"He's crazy," Hermione decided. "Even if Vader's his father. I've seen the movies, and Vader isn't redeemed until just before he dies."
"He dies?" repeated Ron, stunned.
"Yes. The Emperor tries to kill Luke, and Vader gives his life to save his son."
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, stunned.
"Watch your language, Ron!" Hermione scolded.
"Vader can't die!" Ron protested. "He's the best Dark Arts professor we've ever had! Harry, you've got to talk to him again! Maybe if he joins the good side…"
"You want to save him, Ron, you talk to him," Harry snapped, slamming his History of Magic book shut. "I'm going to bed."
Once in his dormitory, he changed into pajamas and flopped onto the bed with a sigh. Luke expected him to talk some sense into his father? Fat chance. Muggles would ride unicorns down the streets of London before Harry could pound sense through that thick helmet of Vader's. Besides, he wasn't going to risk bodily harm again. What if this time Vader's temper exploded and he went through with his choking threat, or he used that lightsaber on him?
No, if Luke wanted this job done, he had to do it himself. Harry was through. He'd done enough to help Vader, and he'd rejected his help. If he wanted aid from his son, fine. If he didn't want anyone's help, his loss.
-
But something occurred the very next day that changed Harry's mind.
"Today we will be working on the Patronus Charm," Vader announced upon entering the classroom – he seemed to always be the last one in the room, as if to ensure he made a dramatic entrance. "Put your books away and keep your wands out." The desks once again slid to the edges of the room in a tangle to make for more practice room.
"This should be easy for you, Harry," whispered Ron.
"I will need someone who can describe the nature of the Patronus to the class," Vader requested. "Miss Granger?"
She scowled. She hadn't been volunteering to give information. "The Patronus is a creature that only a few wizards have the ability to conjure – a physical manifestation of happiness that can drive away dark creatures such as dementors. They're unique from person to person, but all take concentration on an exceptionally happy thought to produce."
"Thank you. Ten points for Gryffindor."
The Slytherins knew better by now than to make any snide comments, but they glared at Hermione all the same.
"It is rare for a student your age to produce a corporeal Patronus," Vader went on. "Most students, on their first tries, produce what appears to be silver smoke. Today we will work on… what is it, Mr. Longbottom?"
"Professor Vader, Harry can conjure a Patronus!" Neville exclaimed.
"Really," said Vader, not sounding very convinced. "This I must see. Mr. Potter, demonstrate the Patronus Charm for the class."
Harry stepped forward, raised his wand, and concentrated with all his might on the memory of winning the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup his third year.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The silver stag he'd become so familiar with burst from the end of his wand and cantered about the perimeter of the classroom, students screaming in surprise and leaping out of its way. It seemed to veer toward a terrified Malfoy for a moment – maybe it remembered the time Malfoy had impersonated a dementor in order to sabotage a Quidditch match – then slowed to a walk, approached Vader majestically, and dropped a regal bow before dissipating into silvery vapor.
The Gryffindors applauded while the Slytherins muttered amongst themselves.
"That was amazing!" Ron said in awe, clapping him on the back.
Vader stared at the spot where the Patronus had vanished a long time, seemingly deep in thought. "The stag…" he mused. "So that's…" His head snapped up, and he addressed the class in a more normal tone of voice. "An impressive display, Mr. Potter. However, keep in mind that this result at your age is the exception, not the rule." He motioned for Ron to step forward. "We'll begin with you, Mr. Weasley. Focus on a good memory and repeat the incantation."
Ron nodded and closed his eyes in concentration. "Expecto Patronum!"
A jet of smoke issued from the end of his wand, wavered, and faded.
"That is the more typical result at this stage," Vader said. "Miss Granger, you're next."
Her attempt produced something a little more substantial – something with four legs and a blurry body that hit the floor and scrambled a few steps before vanishing.
Hers, apparently, would be the best first attempt besides Harry's. Attempts at Patronuses created a great deal of silver vapor and smoke, occasionally something with legs or wings, but nothing with a definite shape. Harry thought Malfoy's looked rather serpentine, but he couldn't be sure. Neville's efforts were the worst – the most that ever came out of his wand was a faint wisp, like a thread of smoke from a burning cigarette.
"We will attempt this again," Vader declared in a tone of long-suffering. "Miss Granger, yours was the closest to becoming corporeal. Try again."
"Expecto Patronum!" she cried.
Again the four-legged body appeared, blurred, then streamlined into a tapered shape that darted forward, slid on its belly across the floor, and twined about Vader's legs like a cat. The Patronus, in the form of a cheeky-faced otter, gamboled playfully about the room before fading away.
"Nice one, Hermione!" cheered Dean.
"Great," Harry told her.
"Hey Professor Vader," asked Lavender. "What's your Patronus shaped like?"
Vader did not reply but gazed coolly at her.
"So the mighty Darth Vader can't even conjure up a Patronus?" sneered Malfoy, unable to resist a haughty guffaw.
"Fifty points from Slytherin," Vader retorted. "Jedi and Sith use magic differently from wizards. Thus, we do not use typical charms and spells such as the Patronus. The only reason I have not produced a Patronus is because I have not had occasion or need to."
Everyone stared at the professor expectantly, some gazing rather pointedly upon the wand that hung from a clip on his belt. The question, though silent, was clear – since you now have a wand and know how to use it, why not produce a Patronus now?
"Very well," Vader said exasperatedly. He removed the wand and paused a moment, no doubt trying to concentrate on a particular memory. "Expecto Patronum."
Nothing. Not even a puff of vapor.
There was tense silence for a long moment. When the dismissal bell rang, it nearly made everyone jump out of their skin.
"Get out," Vader ordered the class in a deadly tone.
The room emptied in record time. The Slytherins were chortling and sneering in fiendish glee – Vader was supposedly so powerful, and he couldn't even produce a Patronus!
"Figures," Hermione told Ron and Harry. "The Patronus isn't exactly dark-side magic."
"I don't think it's that, Hermione," Harry replied.
"But even Neville produced something when he did the charm," she countered. "If Vader, who's studied the Force or magic or whatever for decades, can't even do that, what else could it be but that he can't do it with the dark side?"
"It takes more than magic to do it," said Harry. "It also takes concentration on a good thought or memory."
"Are you saying that he can't do it because he has no happy memories?" Hermione demanded. "Of course he should have happy memories! Everyone does!"
"C'mon, Hermione, it makes sense," Ron said in Harry's defense. "Remember that night when we read his life story? He was born a slave, he was forbidden from marrying his true love, he's got a sadistic git for a master, his body's half-machine, his own kids are fighting against him… not much happiness in that sort of life, is there?"
Hermione whirled to face them. "Look, you two, my father's a huge Star Wars fanatic, which means I know more about Star Wars than probably anyone else in Gryffindor, possibly in Hogwarts. And I've never understood why so many people who are fans of the movies can harbor any sympathy toward Vader. He's a cruel, evil, violent, heartless mass murderer and servant to the dark side. I see nothing – absolutely nothing – in his character that is worth redeeming."
"But he did die for his son," Ron defended. He hesitated, looking a little confused. "Or will, or might, or… whatever. That's something, isn't it? If he was really as cruel and evil as you say, would he even give a damn?"
Hermione shook her head disdainfully and marched off.
"What's her problem?" Ron asked.
"I think she just said it," Harry replied. "She's grown up around Star Wars. Since the movies make him out to be the villain, that's all she sees him as."
"Poor guy," Ron murmured. "He must have a miserable life if he can't even find one happy thought to make a Patronus."
Harry was silent as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. It had been difficult for him to produce a Patronus his first few – or few dozen – times, but at least on his first attempt he'd managed to make something. He'd had at least a few happy memories to draw on, even among the Dursleys. But if Vader, who'd lived much longer than Harry, couldn't even find one pleasant memory amidst over forty years of misery… he was truly to be pitied.
He made himself a promise then and there. Tonight he would pay a visit to Vader's office.
-
The stormtrooper entered Vader's office and saluted.
"What is it?" he demanded, looking up from grading a stack of essays.
"Sir," the soldier barked, "Mr. Harry Potter is here to see you."
Vader was silent a moment, quill still poised over Neville's atrocious composition. What did Harry want at this hour? He doubted any of the students would have the guts to come into his office and laugh in his face, but all the same he had little desire to see any of them tonight. His failure before the entire class had been a rather humiliating experience.
"Show him in," he said at last.
"Yes sir." He strode outside.
Vader continued to correct the essay in scarlet ink – Mr. Longbottom's essay was going to be more red than black by the time Vader was through with it. He didn't know why it was such a big deal that he was unable to perform the Patronus Charm. Even many adult wizards couldn't master it. But the fact that even the least among the class was able to produce something and he, the second-in-command of the Empire and most powerful Force-user in the galaxy, couldn't even do that…
Harry entered the classroom, flanked by stormtroopers. Vader gestured sharply to the men, and they departed, leaving him alone with Harry.
"What do you want?" Vader demanded, marking a final slash on the essay before going on to the next.
"Professor," Harry said, "I'm sorry about what happened this afternoon."
Vader shook his head. "This was none of your doing, Mr. Potter."
"I know," he replied. "But I'd like to apologize anyhow. If not for what I did, then on behalf of the Gryffindors for talking about it behind your back."
Vader stared at Harry a moment. Of all the students in his fifth-year class, Harry probably had the least reason to come forward and give an apology. What could possibly motivate him to do so?
His heart, perhaps, a small voice in the back of his mind suggested.
"Accepted, Potter," he replied. "If you are finished…"
"No," Harry replied. "I… I came to make an offer."
"An offer?"
"Yeah. I think I could… well… maybe I could show you how to do a Patronus?"
Red blots of ink spattered across Malfoy's essay as he stood abruptly, startled. "What?"
"I could show you how to do a Patronus," Harry repeated, somewhat subdued by Vader's reaction. "Um… if you'd like…"
"You would do that… for me?"
"Yeah, why not?"
Vader sat back down, reason overcoming surprise. "All right, Potter, what is it you want? I know someone your age would not make such an offer without expecting something in return."
"I don't want anything in return," Harry protested.
"Potter…" He growled a little in exasperation. "Decide on something, then. I refuse to take charity from anyone. Least of all you."
Harry grinned. "All right then. I'll teach you how to do the Patronus Charm if you promise that I can talk to you without getting choked from now on."
"Deal struck," Vader replied, standing and extending a hand.
Harry took his hand, shaking on the deal. "Okay… um… sorry, I haven't taught anyone before… when Professor Lupin taught me to do a Patronus, he had a boggart handy… you know about boggarts…"
"Yes. I presume that, around you, the boggart became a dementor."
"Yeah. But I dunno what the boggart'll become when you face it. Um, what's a happy memory you have?"
Vader searched his memory. "When I was young – younger than you when you first came to Hogwarts – I used to fly podracers." He smiled a little at the memory of sitting behind the controls, leaning into curves, exhilarating in the feel of speed and raw power and the wind in his face…
"Great. Now focus on it… extend your wand…"
Vader lost himself in that memory of the Boonta Eve Podrace, of roaring through Beggar's Canyon and deftly dodging rock formations and other racers…
Of Sebulba's treachery and sabotage of his podracer…
"Expecto Patronum!"
A fine jet of silver vapor hissed from his wand. He swore under his breath. Why had he allowed THAT to slip into his mind?
"That's great!" Harry cheered. "Want to give it another go?"
"I need a different memory," Vader stated.
"Okay, think of one."
He considered. Perhaps the memory of his mother would suffice. Despite the fact that they had both been slaves to Watto, their life together had been happy. Her loving smile, kindly eyes…
Her death at the hands of the Sandpeople, and his subsequent descent into mad fury…
"Expecto Patronum! Stang it all!"
Another puff of vapor issued from his wand. This one was slightly more substantial, but nothing like Harry's stag or Hermione's otter.
"Listen, that was still really good," Harry encouraged. "Let's do it again…"
"This is madness," Vader snarled.
"C'mon, it takes practice," Harry insisted. "If that memory didn't work, try another one."
He hesitated, then lifted the wand again. What possible memory could he have that wasn't somehow tainted with anger or grief or rage…
Padme. Of course. His beloved, her kiss, her touch, the completeness he'd always felt around her… his first memory of her angelic beauty in the junk shop… then later, just before the Clone Wars, and their furtive moments of tenderness stolen at every chance…
A Jedi shall not know discouragement… nor despair… nor love… the Code… his expulsion from the Order…
"Expecto Patronum!"
"All right!" cheered Harry as the strongest attempt at a Patronus yet burst from the wand, unfurling and hanging in the air for a breathless moment before dissipating. "That was really close, I think it had wings… maybe an eagle…"
"I'm through for the night," Vader said sternly. "Go back to your dormitory, Potter. We will resume this tomorrow night."
"Fine by me," Harry replied, and he turned to go.
A strange prompting urged Vader to speak up. "Potter?"
Harry turned slightly. "What?"
"Potter… I apologize… for my actions at the Halloween feast."
Harry smiled. "That's okay. I forgive you."
Vader nodded. "May the Force be with you."
"You too," Harry replied, and he left.
Vader sat down and stared at the stack of essays before him, then pushed them aside. If it was going to be this difficult to conjure a Patronus, he'd need to work in some practice before their next session together.
"Expecto Patronum," he intoned, frowning at the indistinct shapes emerging from his wand. "Expecto Patronum…"
