AUTHOR'S NOTE: Section breaks wouldn't go through when I uploaded this chapter, no matter how hard I tried. Thus, I typed in the word "Break" whenever the action switched to another viewpoint. I'll correct this if/when lets me.

Chapter 12 – Peril at the Ministry

Luke jerked awake, completely disoriented. The screams that had pierced his dreams were now a faint memory, but they were still enough to jar him out of bed. It was as if a dozen voices had cried out in an extremity of terror and pain… and were suddenly silenced.

"Someone's up early," mumbled the cracked mirror.

"I don't need your comments," he retorted, pulling on his robes. Last night the mirror had been uncomfortably chatty while he was undressing.

"Oh, he's cranky too," it replied. "Sorry to have disturbed you, your Highness."

He rolled his eyes as he pulled on his boots.

"I need to talk to you."

"I'm not having a conversation with a piece of glass," he shot back.

"No, not the mirror. I'm here in the fireplace."

Luke spun to face the fire, which had somehow kept going all night. A woman's face peered out of the flames, a copper-skinned oval face with acid-yellow hair.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Name's Tonks. I'm communicating through the Floo Network from Order of the Phoenix headquarters. There's been an emergency, and Dumbledore needs Alliance help."

"I can't make any promises, but I'll send a message to the Spain Outpost," Luke replied, kneeling before the fireplace.

"Good. We need troops to evacuate headquarters – we've been betrayed, and we've got stormtroopers banging on the door. And we need soldiers sent to the Ministry of Magic too. Dumbledore says there's trouble there."

"I'll tell the Alliance."

"And Dumbledore says to give you a message – your father's at the Ministry and can probably use your help."

Luke's jaw snapped open. "What?"

"That's all he told me," Tonks replied with a shrug. "Gotta go, a stormtrooper just got in, have to Stun him or something. You might want to hurry. We can't hold up much longer." She vanished.

Break…

The Electrus touched down atop a department store, unnoticed thanks to the cloaking device. Vader and the students disembarked, followed by a handful of stormtroopers.

"Stay here until I give orders otherwise," Vader told the soldiers.

"Yes sir," the squad leader replied, saluting.

"Where'd the ship go?" asked Ron, turning and squinting. "Is it like those thestrals Hagrid showed us, you can't see it unless…"

"You can't see it when the cloaking device is on, that's all," Harry told him. "Just like the Invisibility Cloak…" His voice trailed off as he realized something. "No! I left it back at Hogwarts!"

"There will be plenty of time to retrieve it once this whole fiasco's over," Vader replied, heading for the door that led to the building's lower levels. "If you're coming, follow me."

They bolted down five flights of stairs, through darkened corridors and past store displays crammed with electronic gadgets or expensive jewelry. All the while Harry's scar twinged painfully, urging him onward.

"Who's there?" someone shouted, and a beam of light pierced the gloom.

Vader motioned for them to duck behind a rack of silk pinafores. They stayed there, motionless, as the security guard approached, his flashlight trained on the rack.

"He's going to find us," Hermione said balefully. "And he'll probably freak out when he finds three wizard students and a Sith…"

Vader raised his hand slightly. "There's no one here," he murmured.

The guard paused, a blank look on his face. "There's no one here," he muttered to himself.

"You're hearing things," Vader went on.

"I'm hearing things."

"Move on."

"I'll move on."

Ron watched the guard putter away, awed. "You did a Memory Charm! And without a wand!"

"Looked more like the Imperius Curse to me," Harry replied.

"It was the Jedi mind trick," Hermione corrected. "But who cares what it's called? Let's get to the Ministry."

"It's somewhere around here," Harry told them. "We've got to get out of the store first."

At the first floor they charged out the entrance, and Harry led them through the storm, down the vacant, snow-filled sidewalk and toward the rundown-looking telephone box. A drunken bum had claimed the box as shelter for the night, but the moment he spotted Vader's mask he burst out of the glass booth and fled shrieking into the night.

"Wow, he didn't really take to you," Ron noted.

"Aren't you going to modify his memory?" asked Harry. "What if he tells someone he saw you?"

"He's a drunk," Vader replied. "Who will believe him?"

"Right." Harry eyed the box skeptically. "This is the only way in… but I dunno how we're going to all get inside…"

"My dad said that when he was at dental school, he and some friends all tried to see how many students they could fit in a telephone box," Hermione said. "The highest they got was twelve, so four shouldn't be a problem."

"Your dad sounds cool," muttered Ron. "How'd he have such a stuffy daughter?"

Vader entered first, and the three students squeezed in after him. Harry wriggled past Vader's considerable bulk and dialed the code.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," announced the cool female voice he'd heard that summer before his hearing. "Please state your name and business."

"Lord Darth Vader, accompanied by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley," Vader replied. "We are here to verify Mr. Potter's claim that the Empire and Lord Voldemort have taken over the Ministry."

"And to rescue my brother too!" Ron added.

"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Four name badges clattered noisily out of the coin return slot. Hermione scooped them up and dutifully passed them around. Harry glanced at his quickly before stuffing it into his pocket – it read Harry Potter, Investigation/Rescue Mission.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium…"

"Yeah, whatever, fine, move!" shouted Harry.

The box shuddered and began to slide downward, and the view of the Muggle street slowly vanished.

"What's happening?" demanded Vader.

"The Ministry's underground," Harry replied. "This is the only entrance unless you know how to Apparate."

"Wands out," Hermione suggested. "If the Empire really is here…"

"Which it is," Harry replied tartly.

"…then we'll need to protect ourselves."

A chink of golden light illuminated their feet, a chink that widened until the box had descended enough that they could see the Atrium. The fireplaces under the mantelpieces seemed to be out, and the room looked eerily deserted. The Fountain of Magical Brethren continued to gush, its constant trickle and splash the only sound. The only signs that something was amiss were the muddy footprints that covered the floor, as if a great rush of people had tried to enter or leave in a big hurry.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," the voice bade, and the doors slid open.

"Where to now?" whispered Ron as they pried themselves out of the box.

"The room I saw Fudge in was pretty big, but not as big as this…" began Harry.

Something dug into his back – something narrow but too big to be a wand. Craning his neck, he saw it was a blaster.

"Don't move," the man holding the weapon barked. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

Harry rammed his wand against the stormtrooper's breastplate, but it flew from his fingers and into the hands of a man that entered the room through a suddenly blazing fireplace. Ron and Hermione's wands were similarly confiscated.

"Harry Potter," the Emperor crooned. "So good to meet you. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor speaks most highly of you."

"I knew it!" Hermione shouted. "It was a trap, and Vader was in on it!"

The Emperor smiled, revealing horrible black teeth. "Not a trap, Miss Granger. Not at all. You and your friends are… guests here."

Vader bowed deeply. "I'm surprised to see you here, Master. What is your business here?"

Palpatine gave Vader a disdainful look. "You have yet to figure that out, my apprentice?" He shook his head, a gleeful sneer on his face. "Good stars, I thought you were the most intelligent professor at Hogwarts. I can see now that I overestimated you… former apprentice."

Vader froze halfway through rising from his bow. "Former… what?"

"Yes, my worthless apprentice. You have proven yourself incompetent to serve as the heir to the Sith Order. You are weakened by honor and emotion. However…" and here he smiled wickedly. "I must admit you made an excellent, if unwitting, double agent."

Harry gaped at the Emperor. He'd known that the tyrant had been hiding secrets from his right-hand man, but he hadn't suspected that he'd been playing games with Vader's mind and loyalty!

"Thanks to the information you have provided us through your letters," the Emperor continued, "we were able to hire a bounty hunter in an attempt to capture Harry Potter – though I must admit Boba Fett disappointed me there in turning his loyalties to Dumbledore. And the knowledge that the Rebellion and Dumbledore had joined forces… we cannot thank you enough for that."

Vader was staring at his former master, speechless. Ron looked at Vader with enormous sympathy. Hermione appeared shocked that she had been right – and yet, at the same time, very wrong.

"But I'm afraid that we have no further need for information now that the Ministry of Magic is under my control. You have become… shall we say… superfluous."

Vader's shock seemed to have worn off, and he ignited his lightsaber. But before he could strike at the Emperor, he was thrown backward and onto the floor by a blast of bright blue lightning.

"Professor!" shouted Harry.

The Emperor's grin widened. "No need to worry about him, Harry. My new right-hand man will deal with him. You, however, will come with me."

The stormtroopers herded the three of them toward the blazing fireplace. The flames glowed a brilliant green as a tall hooded figure emerged, red eyes flashing.

Harry's scar throbbed in agony. "Voldemort."

"Harry Potter," Voldemort purred, a sickly smile crossing his pale gray features. "At last we meet again." His gaze traveled to Vader, who was struggling to his feet. "I'll deal with you later, however." He turned to the Emperor. "What do you want me to do with the cyborg?"

"Anything you wish," the Emperor replied. "Simply clean up your mess afterward."

Voldemort gave a deranged grin and turned to Vader. The troopers shoved Harry into the fireplace, preventing him from seeing just what Voldemort intended to do with the Dark Lord.

They emerged from the flames in a dazzlingly lit room, as if the fireplace had merely been a curtain between the Atrium and this chamber. Harry gasped in recognition – he'd seen this room in his dreams, the lights, the shelves of jars…

"Ah, I see you recognize the Room of Prophecy of the Department of Mysteries, Potter," the Emperor said easily, extinguishing the fireplace with a wave of his hand. "Let's have a look around, shall we?"

The three friends were silent as they were escorted down one glittering shelf after another. The Emperor led the way, his black robes trailing him like a slime trail after a slug. Ron had gone totally white; Hermione looked thoughtful, though her eyes were bright with fear. The stormtroopers gave no sign of any emotion, quite differing from Vader's troops.

At one point Harry swore he could hear additional footsteps trailing them, and he was more than a little suspicious when a bell jar containing a glowing white lily rocked dangerously as if accidentally struck with an elbow. Was someone in an Invisibility Cloak stalking the group? He thought Mad-Eye Moody had possessed one… but how could he be sure that was Moody? Could it be a Death Eater? Or someone from the school?

They came to an abrupt halt before a shelf lined with perfectly round glass bottles. The Emperor turned and faced them.

"Now students, who can tell me what is contained in these bottles?"

No one spoke. It was Hermione that finally stammered "P-prophecies."

"Very good, Granger" he replied. "If it were in my power to award points to Gryffindor, I would. Now," he went on, turning to the shelf and scanning its contents, "the Department has charmed each of these bottles to prevent theft. Perhaps someone can identify the charm?"

"D-dunno the name," Ron gulped. "B-b-but Bill told m-me that… that only s-someone mentioned in th-that prophecy can pick it up."

"Not bad, Weasley." He seemed to find what he was looking for – a scrap of paper. "Ah, I see the Ministry of Magic turned this prophecy over to the Jedi Order years ago. No doubt it was destroyed along with the Jedi Temple. What a pity. I sought that particular bottle for… sentimental reasons." He dropped the paper onto the floor.

Harry glanced down. The scrap looked like a label, its paper yellow and its ink faded with considerable age. Quickly he scanned the text:

G.L. Jr. to G.G., R.R., H.H., and S.S.

Jedi Order Chosen One

Written beneath those words in slightly newer ink was:

Anakin Skywalker

But "Anakin Skywalker" had been crossed out, to be replaced with:

Darth Vader

"The Chosen One prophecy?" Hermione demanded. "The Department of Mysteries had the Chosen One prophecy?"

"Yes, rather amusing, isn't it?" Palpatine chuckled, still studying the rest of the glass spheres. "The Jedi Council appropriated it somewhere along the line… no doubt kept it locked in a broom closet somewhere, they didn't take too well with prophecies… I thought it might make a nice memento… after all, I doubt Vader will live much longer to see the prophecy come to fruitation… ah, here we are." He stopped before another globe, this one with a much newer label though the globe itself was coated with dust. "Have a look, Potter."

Forcing his feet to carry him forward, Harry stared at the label.

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord (?) Harry Potter

"Me?" breathed Harry, stunned.

"Yes, Potter, you," the Emperor replied. "A prophecy regarding you and Lord Voldemort. Now, if you and your friends would like to leave the Ministry of Magic alive this night, I suggest you remove it from the shelf and give it to me."

"Don't do it, Harry!" hissed Hermione. "It's what Voldemort wants!"

Harry didn't know what else to do. He couldn't let Ron and Hermione suffer… yet if Voldemort got his hands on this, who knew what he would do with it?

"If I give it to you," he said firmly, turning to the Emperor, "you have to promise we all leave the Ministry of Magic alive."

"Of course," Palpatine replied.

"And Vader comes with us," Harry insisted.

The Emperor laughed cruelly. "And why would you want him? After all, he sold you out…"

"Vader lives or no prophecy," Harry ordered.

"You're not in a position to do much bargaining, Potter," the Emperor hissed, and Harry once again felt the muzzle of a blaster in his back. "Now give me that prophecy."

Harry didn't move.

"I mean it, Potter," the Emperor snarled. "I'm going to count to ten, and if the prophecy isn't in my hands by then…" He pointed at Ron. "He dies."

Ron gulped.

"One…"

"Harry, don't do it!" Hermione pleaded.

"Two…"

Sweat crawling down his face, Harry slowly reached for the prophecy.

"That's it, Potter… three…"

His fingers touched it. He'd expected it to feel cool to the touch, but it was surprisingly warm, as if it had been sitting on a sunbathed windowsill.

"Four…"

The jar was resting in his palm now. He turned back to the Emperor, still undecided.

"Five… you're wasting time, Potter… six…"

There was a dull thud like something soft and heavy falling, and the Emperor's head jerked back as if struck. He staggered, and the students' wands fell from his hand with a clatter. Ron wasted no time in scooping them up and handing them to the others.

"Run, Harry!" a harsh gravelly voice ordered.

"Who are you?" demanded Harry, then froze. A head had just appeared in midair – the head of the bounty hunter Boba Fett.

"Go!" he ordered. "No time for questions!"

The muzzle of a sawed-off rifle poked out from under the Invisibility Cloak, and one of the stormtroopers went down with a smoking hole in his chest. Ron screamed.

"C'mon!" Harry ordered, grabbing Ron's arm. As they ran they could hear more blaster fire, the sound of bodies striking the floor, and footsteps as Boba Fett took up the rear end of their flight.

"POTTER!" shrieked the Emperor. "You can't hide from me! I have soldiers all over the Ministry! They'll catch you!"

Hermione blasted fire into the fireplace with her wand. A small satchel of Floo powder hung from the mantel, and Harry flung in a handful.

"The Atrium!" he shouted, and they charged through.

Break…

Vader stared after the Emperor as he departed with Harry via the fireplace. It couldn't be. This was all a dream or a sick prank. He couldn't have been dismissed… replaced by Voldemort… it couldn't be true…

"So we meet at last, Vader," Voldemort rasped. "The almighty Dark Lord… or former Dark Lord."

The wizard bent down and picked up Vader's lightsaber, examining it. "Hmm. Some sort of technological wand, I see. Muggles are so clumsy, aren't they? Even their finest works of machinery are poor substitutes to magic." His gaze now rested pointedly on Vader's chest panel. "Poor, poor substitutes."

"All this time…" said Vader quietly. "All this time you'd been working with him…"

"Don't think you weren't warned," Voldemort replied smoothly. "First by Boba Fett, then by Harry and Dumbledore… but you thought yourself the Emperor's prize student, irreplaceable, your power unquestionable. You were a fool, Vader, unwilling to see the evidence before your very eyes. And the Emperor has no place for fools."

It was as if the truth had finally sunk in with a jarring click. He had been betrayed, used, disposed of like a piece of garbage…

But he'd been just as much a traitor as he had been betrayed. He had betrayed the safety of his students in maintaining communication with the Empire. He had played both sides for too long… and the galaxy would feel the dire consequences of his double agency. Dumbledore had impressed upon him that he would have to choose one master or the other to serve, but he had ignored the Headmaster's warning, and in doing so he had wreaked untold damage.

"But you have honor, Vader," Voldemort went on. "And though I despise honor, I do admire a man who can defeat that worthless defector Severus Snape in a duel, even if his honor gets him into trouble afterward." He drew his wand. "Thus, I grant you the privilege of dying with honor… in a wizard's duel."

His hand moved to his wand. If he could deal Voldemort a crippling blow, even if he died in the process, perhaps he could redeem himself.

"We bow first," Voldemort informed him, bending slightly at the waist.

Vader afforded him the slightest inclination of his head.

"Good enough. Now on three. One…"

"Stupefy!" Vader shouted.

The red jet of light bounced off a shimmering pewter shield that Voldemort conjured out of thin air. The man's reptilian features twisted into a feral smile.

"Not bad, Vader. You're learning to fight dirty."

"Flagrate!"

Fire burst from Vader's wand and coursed through the air between them, barely deflected by Voldemort's shield.

"Avada Kedavra!" the wizard retorted.

Vader dove to avoid the green jet, which struck the Fountain of Magical Brethren and blasted apart the centaur statue's head. Flying shrapnel struck Vader in the ribs, cutting through the leather bodysuit and slicing into his flesh. Agony lashed through him.

"Serpentsortium!"

A jet-black snake erupted from Voldemort's wand, and the reptile darted for Vader, jaws wide. He fired a spell at the beast, and it dissolved into ashes.

"You disappoint me, Vader," Voldemort hissed. "I expected better out of you. Crucio!"

Vader ducked, and the spell sizzled past his shoulder. He raised his wand to fire another spell, but something knocked him backward and through the doors of a lift. Before he could recover from the Banishing Charm, the doors clicked shut, and the lift carried him down.

I expected you to be more of a challenge, Voldemort said condescendingly. Really, lesser wizards than you have entertained me more. But no matter. I won't bore myself with the petty details of your death.

"Department of Muggle Relations," a voice chimed, and the lift doors grated open to reveal a dim chamber roughly as large as his classroom at Hogwarts. Wand out, he stepped into the shadows, keeping his senses attuned. Something dark was lurking here, but it didn't seem human… or animal, for that matter… almost as if ghosts haunted this floor. He felt cold, a chill that sank into his bones and penetrated the far reaches of his mind, dredging up feelings of despair and fear…

"Lumos," he intoned.

The light flaring from his wand revealed the occupants of the room. It took all his strength to hold back a startled shout. Over twenty tall, hooded forms, scabbed and decaying hands protruding from their sleeves, foul-smelling breath rattling from their hoods…

My most loyal supporters, Voldemort said proudly. The dementors of Azkaban, once guards of the wizard's prison – now MY servants. Don't worry, they're quite friendly… they may even give you a little kiss. Goodbye now. Someone will be down later to pick up what's left of you.

He backed toward the lift, but the doors were jammed shut. The dementors drifted toward him with outstretched hands. His chest constricted, it became increasingly difficult to breathe, terror built up inside him like a volcano…

"Expecto Patronum!"

A wisp of smoke emerged from his wand. The lead dementor rattled as if laughing derisively at his efforts.

Concentrate! he thought desperately. Think of Padme, block out all other thoughts…

But as the dementor neared, all he could think of was fire and lava, of Obi-wan's saber searing his flesh, of the stench of burning skin, of agony and rage and horror…

"Expecto Patronum!"

A cloud of vapor this time, enough to make the dementors pause. But the instant it faded they continued to drift purposefully toward him. An inexplicable weakness filled him, he could barely hold onto his wand now…

"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"

His legs gave out, and he sank to the floor. The lead dementor towered over him, and its rotted hands reached for its hood.

"Expecto Patronum! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The hood fell back.