Chapter 11 – Treaty and Treason

"Refill, sir?" asked the bartender.

"No thanks," Luke replied, placing a hand over his butterbeer glass.

The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade was alive with activity – witches and wizards from every walk of life were taking a break from the blinding weather and rapidly piling snow to thaw and dry out, enjoy some gossip, and indulge in a favorite drink – or two, or nine. Sitting on Luke's left was a giggly blonde witch in reddish-violet robes who constantly made calf eyes at Luke over her gillywater. On his right, a pale fanged man in a hooded robe hunched over his own drink as if to hide its contents from the rest of the pub.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like anything else?" the bartender asked.

"A room, if you have any empty ones," Luke replied. "I'd prefer one with a window, but I'm not choosy."

"We have a window-room vacant, sir, and it's yours for ten Sickles a night," he replied.

Luke handed over the coins, grateful that he'd stopped by Gringotts and acquired some wizard money before venturing into Hogsmeade. "Keep it open for me."

"Room 104, behind the portrait of the fat wizard in the badger-fur cape," the man informed him.

Well, that had been simple. Mothma had wanted Luke to come back to this wizard's village and remain near Hogwarts, just in case further negotiations needed to be worked out between the Rebellion and the Order of the Phoenix. Luke had expected to find considerable opposition, but to his great surprise he was universally accepted as a fellow wizard.

"I love your accent," the blonde witch giggled, hiccupping abruptly at the end of that sentence. "Are you an American wizard?"

"Uh… yeah," Luke replied. "I'm visiting my… um… aunt in the old country for Christmas." Mothma had been clear on that point – he couldn't divulge his identity as a Jedi Knight or even as a citizen of the galaxy beyond the wizard's world. With the treaty between the Ministry and the Empire set to be signed any day now, he couldn't risk capture.

"Who's your auntie?" she asked. "Maybe I know her."

He was spared having to lie any further, for she hiccupped again and tipped backward off her barstool, snoring. The bartender rolled his eyes and motioned for his son to go out and haul the witch someplace where she could sober up.

Luke pulled a scrap of parchment from his pocket and smoothed it out, taking a moment to review the letter Harry had sent back to him.

Luke,

Nice to hear from you. Yeah, I've heard a lot about you, you're pretty great yourself, you know.

Professor Vader's been a great teacher – I think we've learned more from him than from any other Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, except maybe Lupin. My friend Hermione's not too fond of him, but that's her problem. And our Potions Professor, Snape, hates him too, but he hates most everyone that isn't a pureblood.

I'll try to talk to your dad, Luke, but it's not going to be easy. He's pretty confused right now – he doesn't know whether to fight for Dumbledore or the Empire. Dumbledore says he can't go much longer without making a choice. I just hope he chooses the right side to fight for.

If you want to write back, send your letters to the Burrow. That's my friend Ron's house. He's invited me there for the holidays, and we leave tomorrow morning.

Merry Christmas.

Harry Potter

P.S. I'm teaching your dad to do the Patronus Charm. Kind of funny, isn't it, that I'm teaching my teacher? He's not doing so well, but hey, it takes practice.

Oh, and Ron says hello.

Luke laughed softly and folded the letter back up. So Harry and his father had established a cordial relationship. That was good news. He needed good news badly.

Two wizards were muttering over the Daily Prophet nearby, discussing an article detailing the latest in the endless negotiations between the Empire and the Ministry of Magic. From what Luke could overhear, the deliberations were drawing to a close, and an agreement would shortly be reached. That would not bode well for the Rebellion – or for Hogwarts, especially now that Dumbledore had joined the Rebellion.

He stared into his almost-empty glass. Somehow he just couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental was about to happen, and that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

-

The snowstorm outside was probably the worst Hogwarts had faced in a century. The wind screamed past the windows and piled snow in great drifts against the walls and around the grounds. All Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Astronomy classes had been cancelled for five days running, not to mention Quidditch practice and Hogsmeade weekends. Those few students that dared brave the white maelstrom required Thawing Charms and a strict regimen of Pepper Draughts to recover.

Being confined to the castle meant that the students had a great deal of extra energy to release, and unfortunately most chose to burn that extra energy by further tormenting the stormtroopers. When they weren't hexing and jinxing them at every opportunity, they were pulling elaborate pranks on them. Their armor turned every color of the rainbow, their blasters were hexed to turn into centipedes and bats when touched, and five of them spent a full day in the hospital wing after mysteriously sprouting antennae.

Perhaps the final straw was when three Slytherin seventh years managed to place a Vanishing Charm on the outside-facing wall of the stormtroopers' quarters, meaning the room was filled with snow when the soldiers retired that night. The angry and very cold troopers stormed the dungeons, engaging in a furious battle with the students. Snape restored order by Stunning the troops, but his efforts to protect his students from punishment failed – Dumbledore ordered all three students suspended for their actions.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Ron said resignedly. "And Snape was all set to pin the blame on Fred and George."

"We had a solid alibi, little bro," Fred said proudly. "We were planting a niffler in Snape's office at the time."

"Besides, we're pranksters, not torturers," George added. "We're all for a little harmless fun, but filling someone's bedroom with snow's just low."

"You're talking about Slytherins, mate," Fred reminded his twin.

"Yeah, they're a low lot, eh?" George admitted.

Harry pretended not to be listening, staring into the fireplace and wishing Sirius would turn up in the flames. He found himself missing his godfather. Sirius was the closest thing he had to a father… and to think of him cooped up in that hideous hole that passed itself off as the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black depressed Harry even more. If only they could invite Sirius to the Burrow for Christmas too…

"Harry, it's late," Hermione told him. "Why don't you go to bed? You look tired."

Harry shrugged. "I wish Padfoot could join us for Christmas."

She sighed. "I know, Harry. But he's got to stay hidden for his own good."

"It can't be good for him to be locked in that house with a foul-mouthed house elf and constant reminders of his horrible family."

She looked about to rail on him for his comment regarding Kreacher but thought better of it. "Well, maybe once this whole battle against Voldemort is over, Dumbledore can insist Sirius gets a fair trial – or at least a trial period. Then we can prove his innocence, and he can come out of hiding at last."

"That'll be great," Harry said with a smile.

"Well, Merry Christmas, Harry," she told him. "See you after the holidays, and have fun at Ron's."

"I'll try."

The common room was finally quieting down. Only Harry, Fred, George, and Seamus remained, and seeing as Seamus was asleep in his chair and Fred and George were poring over a stack of order forms for their joke shop, there wasn't much chance that anyone else was going to strike up conversation with him. He might as well take up Hermione's suggestion, it must be midnight or close to it, and he was pretty tired…

He dozed a little in the plush chair, dreaming that he was at the Burrow for Christmas dinner, and Sirius was laughing and dancing a merry waltz with Mrs. Weasley while a stormtrooper played "Sleigh Ride" on the bagpipes nearby…

…he waited in the shadows, silent, ready to emerge at any moment. But he bided his time, awaiting the Emperor's signal to act.

"Then it's all settled!" Fudge said with great relish, signing the document with a flourish. "Weasley, you got this all down? The alliance between the Ministry of Magic and the Galactic Empire is now official!"

"Yes sir," Junior Undersecretary Percy Weasley replied, shoving his glasses farther up his nose before resuming his note-taking.

"Good," Palpatine replied easily, adding his own signature to the paper. "Good. I am very relieved to know that there will be no more contention between our worlds, Minister Fudge."

The wizards gathered in this room to witness the signing of this treaty applauded. The entire Wizenmagot was present, as were other high-born and high-ranking wizards – Malfoy, Umbridge, Montague, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle… the cream of wizarding society. The Empire, surprisingly, seemed rather underrepresented in this room, with the black-robed Emperor being the only non-wizard in the audience chamber.

"And may I suggest that, as our first act as a joint government, we replace a few key figures in the Ministry?" Palpatine said smoothly. "I had one post in mind… one that has been causing a great deal of trouble since the Triwizard Tournament, I hear…"

"Ah, yes," Fudge replied, eyes agleam. "It's high time the Ministry did something about that delusional old man… very well, we'll have Dumbledore removed at once! May I suggest as a very competent replacement, my associate Dolores Umbridge…"

The toad-like witch giggled girlishly and blushed. "Oh Minister, you really shouldn't…"

"That will be for later, Minister," Palpatine replied. "I was thinking a much more… pertinent post." His sickly yellow eyes rested on Fudge, and a sly grin curled his lips.

It took a moment for Fudge to catch on. "W-w-what? Surely you can't mean…"

"I mean just that, Fudge. The Empire is a strong government, and we need strong leaders to keep it that way. You, unfortunately, are a weak-minded fool."

The Wizenmagot whispered amongst themselves, puzzled at this sudden turn of events. Both Umbridge and Percy looked genuinely frightened, and Fudge's normally rosy face paled considerably.

"You can't mean… you can't just… I'm Minister of Magic…" sputtered Fudge.

"You are Minister of Magic no longer," Palpatine cut in, smiling more broadly than ever. "The Ministry of Magic is under MY control now – and the entire wizard world is MINE. In your pathetic place I shall install a governor of the wizard's world…a strong man, an appropriate leader, one who will bring order to your world." And he nodded into the shadows.

He stepped out into the open, letting his ruby gaze sweep the chamber. Horrified gasps and shrieks met his entrance, and looks of fright crossed every face – except those of his followers, who edged closer to the unsuspecting Fudge.

Fudge was nearly transparent with fear, his eyes so wide they resembled white gumballs. "Merlin's beard! L-l-lord V…Vol… You-Know-Who… he can't… he…" His voice rose in pitch with every fragment of a sentence he managed to squeeze out, until he could only open and shut his mouth in terror like a goldfish dumped out of its bowl.

"Lord Voldemort, newly instated Governor of the Wizard World, my second-in-command," Palpatine introduced grandly, giving a slight bow in Voldemort's direction.

"Thank you," he rasped. "And my first act as governor..." He aimed his wand at Fudge.

"NO! NO! NO!" Fudge howled, and he turned to bolt. But Crabbe and Goyle grabbed his arms in bone-crushing grips, keeping him firmly in place.

Umbridge was the first to act, but she was too slow in drawing her wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The flabby witch collapsed to the ground in a heap. The other non-Death-Eaters in the room began screaming and running in all directions, some surging forward to rescue Fudge, others stampeding for the exit. Blasts of green fire seared the air for a few moments, and one by one those not loyal to Voldemort dropped like shot birds.

Percy Weasley was the last to fall, though not to a killing curse. He'd nearly made it to the door, but he tripped over Umbridge's body and cracked his head painfully on the stone wall, knocking himself out cold. Voldemort paid him no more mind.

"And now, Minister…" he purred, turning back to the portly wizard.

"No! Please! I'll do anything! ANYTHING!"

"Crucio!"

Fudge's scream tore through the night…

…but they were Harry's screams now – screams of horror and pain. His scar sent stabs of fire through his brain as if trying to carve his head apart.

"Harry, what the bloody hell…" demanded Fred, shaking him out of his nightmare.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "What's going on? You've woken up everyone in Gryffindor Tower!"

"Where's Hermione?" Harry demanded, clamping a hand over his throbbing scar. "I need to tell you something…"

Hermione jerked her head toward the portal. "I've got your cloak, Harry. We can talk in the hallway."

-

Vader strode out of the teacher's lounge, thoughtful. Dumbledore had called the entire faculty together to discuss the upcoming O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. tests and how he expected each teacher to prepare their fifth and seventh year students for their examinations. Extra assignments were not enough, he'd impressed upon them; he expected them to emphasize the importance of the tests, to provide tutorship if necessary, and to incorporate as much O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. level material in their classes as possible.

"Vader, I don't see much in your curriculum that requires changing," Dumbledore had told him. "You seem to be covering all the basics in your classes. Keep going as you are and don't be afraid to pull aside certain students for some extra coaching."

Well, he could think of several students in his classes that would need a lot of "extra coaching" to achieve something satisfactory on their O.W.L. exams. Neville Longbottom, for one, not to mention Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy… although Mafloy would do well enough in his classes if he would just apply himself to the work…

Fire seared through his body, and he buckled to his knees with a sharp cry of pain. His entire being screamed in agony. As if from far away, he could hear the cries of others… of people suffering… dying… pleading for mercy…

He could have wept in relief as the pain subsided. But those screams still resounded in his mind, haunting him, spurring him to action. He got to his feet, extending his senses to seek the source of this premonition…

"Taking a short nap, Vader?"

"Go away, Snape," he hissed, in no mood to deal with the Potions Professor right now.

"You know, collapsing in the halls in a screaming fit usually isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world," Snape went on in an oily voice. "Perhaps you should have Madam Pomfrey perform a mental evaluation…"

"Let me pass, Snape," he ordered, striding forward. If nothing else, he should see Dumbledore. Whether he liked it or not, the man was his superior for now. Something of this magnitude occurring in his school needed to be reported.

"Why should I?" sneered Snape, sidestepping to block his path.

"Don't make me do something you'll regret," he retorted.

"I'm not through with you yet," Snape growled, reaching for his wand.

Vader was quicker on the draw. Jamming his wand into the Potions Professor's stomach, he snarled the first incantation to come to his mind.

Then he stepped easily over the bewildered-looking iguana and continued toward Dumbledore's office.

-

Ron's face was white with sheer horror by the time Harry finished telling him and Hermione about his nightmare. "P-Percy?"

"He's not dead," Harry consoled him. "But I think he's hurt."

"Voldemort's at the Ministry of Magic!" Hermione exclaimed. "And the Emperor's taking over the Minsitry! This is serious, Harry! You have to tell Dumbledore!"

"You don't think I was going to keep this a secret, do you?" Harry asked her.

"Let's go!" she urged, and the three of them took off as fast as they could without losing the Invisibility Cloak.

They had almost made it to Dumbledore's office when Vader strode out of a side corridor and nearly ran into them.

"Potter!" he exclaimed.

"Professor, I have to see Dumbledore!" Harry told him. "It's an emergency!"

Vader gave a sharp nod. "I sense it too, Harry."

"How do we know he's not in on it?" hissed Hermione.

Ron trod heavily on her foot to shut her up.

At the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office they paused, and Harry began shouting possible passwords.

"Lemon Drop! Cockroach Cluster! Fizzing Whizzbees! Chocolate Frogs! Canary Creams!"

"Harry, you're wasting time!" Hermione snapped.

"Peppermint Toads! C'mon… c'mon… Skivving Snackboxes!"

The gargoyle sprang to the side. Without pausing they climbed the stairs and began pounding on the door to the Headmaster's office.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"McGonagall, this is an emergency," Vader stated, turning to face the Transfiguration Professor. "We have to see Dumbledore immediately."

"We?" She glanced at the floor, where, Harry belatedly realized, the toe of Ron's shoe was visible. "I see Potter is out wandering the corridors again…"

"Professor, it's about Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed, throwing back the cloak. "He's at the Ministry of Magic, he's torturing Cornelius Fudge, the Emperor's with him and he's made Voldemort governor of the wizarding world…"

Vader gave Harry a look that, even through the mask, could best be described as a gape.

"Potter," McGonagall said sternly, "I am not doubting the validity of your claim, nor am I forbidding you from seeing Dumbledore. But you cannot go in there."

"Why not?" Ron demanded.

"Because Dumbledore is not there," she replied. "He is in London, taking care of business."

"Business?" repeated Vader.

She sighed. "There can be no more hiding it from you, Professor Vader. Dumbledore is at the head of an organization known as the Order of the Phoenix, of which many of our Professors are part. We have organized to fight Lord Voldemort and those who support him. The reason Dumbledore has gone is because there is a traitor among the Order of the Phoenix."

"A traitor?" Hermione repeated. "Who?"

"That is what he has gone to find out," McGonagall replied. "I suggest, Potter, that you send him an owl at once. There is nothing more you can do."

"But there is something more I can do," Vader countered, and he brushed past McGonagall and descended the stairs.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Validating the authenticity of Potter's bizarre accusation," he replied. "As an Imperial, I am obligated to investigate such claims."

"Vader, you can't possibly…" she began.

"This is out of your jurisdiction, McGonagall," he said firmly.

She sighed again. "Well, I suppose I cannot keep you from killing yourself, Vader. Potter, Weasley, Granger, go to the Owlery and send a message to Dumbledore, then go straight to bed."

They slipped back under the cloak and ran down the stairs.

"Follow Vader," Harry hissed.

"Why?" Hermione demanded. "He could be leading us into a trap…"

"He doesn't believe the Emperor and Voldemort are working together," Harry defended. "He's not going to hurt us."

"You heard McGonagall – there's a traitor in the Order! What if it's him?"

"He's not in the Order, and he's not working for Voldemort!" Harry snapped. "Besides, he needs help if he's going to be facing both Voldemort and his deranged master!"

"We have to go, Hermione," Ron added. "Percy's in trouble. I don't care if he's acting like an idiot, he's my brother, and I'm not going to let him die!"

She sighed. "I'm going to regret this."

-

The shuttle Electrus sat just a short ways behind Hagrid's hut, its cloaking device on to prevent over-inquisitive students from poking around with it. At a gesture from Vader the device was deactivated, and stormtroopers began prepping it for his departure.

Voldemort and the Emperor at the Ministry? Was this a delusion of Potter's to convince Vader to reject the Empire? Or was it the truth? He couldn't be sure, but he knew he had to investigate. If nothing else, he had to find out the truth – and to seek out the source of that deadly premonition he had felt.

He felt the presences of Harry, Ron, and Hermoine behind him. Without turning he stated, "Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"We're coming with you," Harry replied firmly, throwing back his Invisibility Cloak.

"No, Potter. This is Imperial business."

"It's our business too," he replied. "I've faced Voldemort before. I can help you fight him. And we have to help Ron save his brother."

"Potter…"

"And you owe me," Harry added. "I wasn't going to press this issue, but you owe me big for saving you from Snape. We're going with you whether you like it or not."

Vader glowered down at Harry a few moments, then gave a frustrated growl. "Very well, I concede, Potter. Get in the shuttle."

"Whoa," gaped Ron, staring up at the starship.

"And how do you propose to hide THAT from Muggles in downtown London?" Hermione demanded.

"A cloaking device," Vader replied. "Now get aboard if you're coming."

She scowled, then marched up the gangplank, dragging a gawking Ron behind her. Harry was close behind. Vader entered behind the students, and with a scream from its thrusters the Electrus rose into the air.

From the Forbidden Forest a shadowy figure dashed, clad in battered armor and carrying a blaster rifle. The figure stooped, picked up Harry's forgotten Invisibility Cloak, and blasted into the air after the shuttle via jet pack. He landed upon the port wing and hugged the side of the shuttle just as it vanished, and he hurriedly wrapped himself in the appropriated cloak.

"You owe me extra for this, Dumbledore," Fett muttered as the Electrus and its stowaway shrieked toward London.