Chapter 15 – The Vanishing of the Dursleys
Dumbledore surveyed the Great Hall quietly, a great weight forming in his chest. So it had come to this. At long last, a second war would be waged with Lord Voldemort. And this time, Voldemort had an ally far more powerful than anyone could fathom.
Everyone stared up at the headmaster expectantly. It had been an incredibly cheerless holiday, and the depression and fright showed in every student's face. The Alliance soldiers over at the former Slytherin table had expressions of weary acceptance – they'd been fighting a civil war for years; why should a wizard war be any different? The sky was slate-gray with storm clouds, as if the elements had conspired with the prevalent emotions to create an atmosphere of impending doom. Even Peeves and the Weasley twins, normally endless vaults of mischief and humor, had been remarkably quiet over the Christmas holiday.
At least magic is on our side, Dumbledore thought. We have two Chosen Ones fighting for our cause. As long as Harry and Vader continue fighting as a partnership, we cannot give up hope.
He had gathered everyone together – students, faculty, Rebels, High Command, Order members, even the ghosts and poltergeist – for a special meeting, one that he hoped would restore some measure of morale.
"Students and teachers of Hogwarts, fellow wizards, and friends of the Alliance," Dumbledore announced, "thank you for coming together today."
He let his gaze sweep the room. "At the end of our last term at Hogwarts, I warned our students that great evils would soon sweep the land, that Voldemort had returned and killed one of our own… and that we must learn to stand together if we were to defeat this great evil. Many of you did not understand what I was talking about, or were told that I had lied to you or was losing my mind. Others of you may have simply forgotten what I have stated, thinking it trivial.
"Now, more than ever, we see a need to unite, to cooperate, to put our past prejudices and bigotry aside and stand together. A great Muggle of old – whose name slips my mind, though I believe he may have been an American president – once said 'A house divided cannot stand.' His words apply to wizardkind as well as to his people. If we allow the brands of 'pure-blood,' 'Muggle,' or 'Rebel' to drive us apart, that makes it all the easier for our enemies to destroy us one by one.
"I ask all of you, wizard and Muggle alike, to forget past affiliations and biases. Some among us are divided by the boundaries of our Hogwarts Houses, be they Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, or Slytherin. Others have been brought up to consider Muggle-borns, half-bloods, or pure-bloods as inferior or as foes. Still others once served the enemy and have turned their allegiances, but may not be entirely free of suspicion.
"Let us forget these dividing lines from this point onward. Let us eliminate the competition between the houses, however good-spirited it may be. Let us accept as our own those whose pasts may be less than immaculate. Let us dismiss past hatreds and enmities. Let all be equal, be they full-blood, half-blood, Muggle, Rebel, former Imperial, Jedi, Sith, or ghost."
The students glanced from table to table, as if trying to pick out friends from the other houses. The half-dozen remaining Slytherins squirmed in their seats, as if sickened at the thought of mingling with Muggles. The Rebels glanced uncomfortably at the stormtroopers that still dotted the room. More than one wary eye was turned to the staff table, where Vader was exchanging glares of contempt with Snape.
"Palpatine and Voldemort's greatest ally is discord. If they can divide us, we are doomed. If they can foster hatred among us, all our efforts will be in vain. If we cannot stand together and trust one another implicitly, we will fall. But if we unite as one, nothing – absolutely nothing – can destroy us.
"That said, welcome back from the Christmas holiday."
Break…
If the students thought the approaching war with the Empire would mean less of a workload, they were sorely mistaken. A collective groan filled the classroom when Professor McGonagall announced that the O.W.L.S. were by no means cancelled that year.
"The Ministry can't send examiners, why do we still have to take the stupid exams?" Ron hissed in Harry's ear.
"No talking, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall ordered. "Despite the… political troubles currently developing, life must go on as normally as possible. That includes your studies."
But there were many signs that life at Hogwarts would never go entirely back to normal – at least not this year. For one thing, Rebel guards prowled the grounds constantly, on the guard for any suspicious activities. Surprisingly, there were few attempts to hassle the Rebels as the stormtroopers had been tormented, though the Weasleys had introduced them to the dangers of the Skivving Snackboxes early on. Maybe the fact that they weren't required to wear armor made them appear more human, or maybe Dumbledore's speech about unity had managed to sink in.
The day after the Christmas holiday, Vader and Dumbledore herded the stormtroopers into an empty classroom and locked the door. No one knew what exactly transpired during that meeting – though a few students reported mysterious screechings and explosions as they passed by – but by the time the troopers left the room, they had pledged their loyalty to the Alliance.
Defense Against the Dark Arts classes became more strenuous than ever, with countercurses and battle spells being highly emphasized. What more, a special bi-weekly Muggle Weaponry course was made mandatory for all students fifth year and over. The Quidditch pitch had been transformed into a blaster-shooting range, with Rebel and stormtrooper officers educating the students on proper firing and elementary blaster safety. Harry had to admit he was a horrible shot, and that no amount of practice would improve that much.
Boba Fett, who Harry found out had been hired by Dumbledore to keep an eye on Harry, seemed to have become a bodyguard of sorts, following Harry through the halls and glaring balefully at anyone who so much as looked at him funny. Evidently he took his duties quite seriously – probably because there was a lot of gold at stake if Harry came to any harm. But when Hermione showed him a copy of the Daily Prophet (now the Imperial Reporter) one day, he became thankful for Fett's presence.
"Enormous bounties have been placed on the heads of anyone and everyone affiliated with either Dumbledore or the Rebellion," she told him over lunch, handing him the Reporter.
"Whoa," he breathed, looking at the article. It showed photographs of several of the Hogwarts professors and Rebels, with reward amounts listed beneath each picture. The largest photos showed him and Professor Vader, with the bold caption Harry Potter and Darth Vader – Dead or Alive – 5 million Galleons Apiece.
"Dumbledore's the next highest with three million," Ginny noted, reading over Harry's shoulder. "Then it's Luke Skywalker with two million – but he's wanted alive – and Snape and Trelawney with one million. Tonks, Sirius, McGonagall, Leia, Solo, Chewbacca, and Hagrid are all a million too… Ron! Dad's on here!"
"What?" exclaimed Ron, his flagon of pumpkin juice spreading rapidly over the tablecloth.
"Five hundred thousand Galleons, dead or alive," Harry replied.
Fett skimmed the article over Harry's shoulder, then snorted. "Dumbledore'd better heighten security around Hogwarts, then. Every hunter from here to Imperial Center'll be flocking to his school like carrion beetles to a rotting bantha corpse."
"Lovely analogy, Fett," groaned Dean Thomas, suddenly highly disinterested in his lunch.
"Muggles can't find Hogwarts without having a Clarity Charm placed on them or drinking a Clarity Draught," Hermione replied. "It's impossible for a Muggle to just happen along Hogwarts by accident, and I highly doubt Voldemort's going to give potions to every bounty hunter in the galaxy."
"But Fett's a hunter," Ron pointed out. "Why doesn't he nab one of us and turn us in for…"
"I never quit in the middle of an assignment," Fett replied evenly. "I have a contract with Dumbledore to guard Harry until the end of the school term. Once summer comes…" He shrugged. "We'll see if he's willing to extend the contract." He strolled off.
Fred grinned. "Ah, he just likes to play tough. He's not that bad a guy once you get to know him."
Toward the end of January, the expected Imperial invasion had not yet occurred, but the guard around Hogwarts was by no means relaxed. On the contrary, on the thirtieth of the month Dumbledore announced at breakfast that the parents and/or guardians of every student would be staying at the school until further notice.
"Well, we can be glad Malfoy's gone then," Ron said cheerily. "At least we won't have to put up with his greasy dad."
"I hope my parents take it all right," Hermione said warily. "Especially my dad. He's likely to maul Luke or Vader and demand autographs the moment he sees them."
Harry groaned. If Hermione's Muggle parents were coming to Hogwarts, then that most likely meant the Dursleys would also be making the trip, quite probably against their will. And after Dudley's dementor attack this summer, they were bound to be on nasty terms with him and with magic in general.
But he was in for a horrible shock when the doors to the Great Hall swung open the next day to admit a deluge of hysterical parents and relatives, crying and hugging their children and babbling uncontrollably.
"So you're Harry," Mr. Granger greeted enthusiastically, shaking his hand. "Herm's told us a lot about you."
"Hi Mr. Granger," Harry replied.
"So where's this Dark Arts professor of yours?" he went on with the eagerness of a child at Christmas, forgetting about Harry almost immediately. "Your letters said something about Darth Vader coming to your school…"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Harry left the Granger family and scanned the crowd again, looking for a familiar face in the mob. Neville was enduring a critical examination from his grandmother, Ron was looking desperately at him from the midst of his anxious brothers and parents, a very tall witch was sobbing hysterically into a disgusted-looking Lee Jordan's shoulder…
"Looking for your aunt and uncle, Harry?" asked Sirius, coming to stand beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.
Harry shrugged. "Curious, I guess. If Dumbledore managed to drag them here, it'll be a miracle."
Sirius gave a funny smile. "Harry, they're your aunt and uncle. And no matter how horribly they've treated you in the past, I know that you still care somewhat about them. They're your family, like it or not. And ties of blood are not easily broken."
"This from the man who spent all summer complaining about his demon mother and evil relatives," Harry shot back.
Sirius opened his mouth to fire off a retort, but when none was forthcoming, he just gave a weak, sheepish laugh.
A stormtrooper wrangled his way through the crowd at the door and stood at attention before Vader, speaking in a hushed tone. Vader listened attentively, glanced at Harry a moment, then nodded and informed the man he could leave.
"Something wrong, Professor?" asked Sirius as Vader approached.
"Regarding your aunt and uncle, Harry," Vader said with an acknowledging nod at the Animagus. "My men and Auror Tonks were sent to retrieve them."
"And they didn't want to come?" Harry finished.
"No. There was no sign of them. Their house appears to have been deserted for some time. Their car is gone, but no other possessions are missing, which rules out a vacation of any kind."
Harry stared at him. "Are you sure? Maybe they just went out for dinner…"
"There is more, Harry. Tonks questioned your neighbor, Mrs. Figg. She says they have been missing since Christmas. Their car was found abandoned in a parking lot in London. The police have found no evidence of foul play, but other than that they have found nothing to indicate they are still alive." He waited a moment, as if wondering whether to proceed. "They also checked your cousin's school. He has not returned from the school holiday, and all attempts to contact his parents have been unsuccessful."
"How could three Muggles just vanish off the face of the earth?" demanded Sirius.
Harry only gaped at Vader. All his life he'd thought that if anything ever happened to the Dursleys, he wouldn't be sorry – after all, it would be about time the miserable lot got their just desserts. But he couldn't bring himself to gloat or feel any sort of satisfaction. Instead, to his surprise, he felt only a leaden sense of dread in his gut.
Break…
Vernon Dursley leaned back in his seat and sighed blissfully. Fate certainly worked in mysterious ways. One day, he'd been slaving away in his stuffy, sweltering office performing the most deadly dull work in the world (never mind that he'd told everyone that he loved his job all these years); the next day, his family had been chosen for a great honor… by no less than the Emperor.
Petunia dozed in the seat beside him, her high-pitched snore earning glares from the Imperial shuttle's other occupants. Dudley, sitting several rows away, shot her a Mom-you're-embarrassing-me look that lost most of its effect, seeing as its recipient was asleep. Vernon retorted with a sit-down-and-act-like-the-soldier-you-are glower that did nothing whatsoever to restrain his son but made him feel better nonetheless.
Vernon let his thoughts drift back to that day that had improved his son's fortunes. It had all started on the Christmas holiday, when he'd taken his family to a fancy restaurant in London to celebrate the season. Things had gone normally for a while – Vernon had been berating the staff for their slow service, Petunia had been eavesdropping on any conversation she could, and Dudley had been gorging himself on his meal. Nothing had indicated that their lives were about to change forever.
Until that strange man had come to their table…
"Good evening, Mr. Dursley," the hooded man told him in a pleasant tone. "May I sit here?"
Vernon glared at the man suspiciously. He looked disturbingly like some of Harry's misfit magic lot – at least, what Vernon saw of him did, which wasn't more than a hood, a robe, and black gloves.
"Who are you, and what do you think gives you the right to barge into our private dinner uninvited?" Vernon demanded.
"My dear Mr. Dursley, if you think you can brush me off by parading your bullheadedness around like a banner, you're sorely mistaken," the man replied smoothly, pulling up a chair from a vacant table and having a seat between Petunia and Dudley.
"Shamelessly rude, isn't he?" Petunia whispered, deliberately loud enough for the stranger to overhear.
"How dare you!" bellowed Vernon. "Get away from our table!"
"I don't think I've properly introduced myself," the man went on. "My name is Admiral Thrawn."
"Oh… uh… what I meant to say is… step away from the table and let me find you a more comfortable chair… and clear up a space for you… I'll buy you a drink, or dinner if you'd like… waiter? WAITER!"
Thrawn waved his hand dismissively. "No thank you, my friend. I just ate."
"Dudley, why don't you take this man's cloak for him?" Vernon suggested, never once thinking it odd that an officer in the British Navy would be wearing such a ridiculous garment in public.
Dudley glared at his father as if he'd suggested he invite Harry to dinner.
"No need, no need," Thrawn replied. "I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Dursley. Though now that you call my attention to your son, I'm reminded that young Dudley here is the precise reason I came to meet you."
Dudley's glare changed to a look of astonishment.
"Our Dudley?" Petunia exclaimed happily. "You mean Her Majesty's Royal Navy has taken an interest in our Dudders… I mean… Dudley…"
Thrawn hesitated, then enjoyed a little laugh. "My apologies, my friends. There has been a misunderstanding. You see, I'm not an Admiral in the British Navy, as I presume you assumed. Rather, I'm an officer in the Imperial Starfleet."
It took Vernon a moment to process that comment. "What do you mean the Imperial Starfleet?" he inquired. "I didn't know Her Majesty had commissioned a space program…"
"If your Muggles' Royal Highness has established such a program, it is beyond my knowledge," Thrawn answered. "I do not work for the British Empire, Mr. Dursley, but for the Galactic Empire, for the glory of the Emperor."
Dudley gave a squeak of terrified recognition.
"What do you… oh, I see. You're a friend of Harry's, and this is some monstrous joke. Well, it's not funny, you can leave off now… good heavens!"
For Admiral Thrawn had pulled his hood back just enough to let them see his face – a handsome and very commanding face, but sapphire blue with shimmering red eyes. Petunia shrieked, and Dudley's mouth fell open like some gaping cavern.
"The Empire has been informed that the people of your world are familiar with our ways, thanks to something called… what was it? Oh yes, 'Star Wars.' Well, you can imagine our surprise there, but really, it has worked out for the best. For it has made it all the easier for us to do some… recruitment."
"What do you mean?" demanded Vernon. "Recruitment for what?"
"For a war against Hogwarts."
That caught his attention. "H-hogwarts? That… that wizard school?"
Petunia's shriek reached a level audible only to dogs. "War with… why?"
"Because the school has become a base of operations for a hideous organization that seeks to overthrow the Empire… and quite possibly take over your world as well."
Rage boiled within Vernon. He'd known that wizards were nothing but trouble, and now here was proof! Harry must be part of this plot – why else would he have gotten Dudley into trouble this summer and be constantly wreaking havoc? Wizards weren't just bizarre, they were traitors to the crown! He wondered just how long they had been plotting this…
"You are a loyal citizen of England, Dumbledore," Thrawn went on. "And you have a fine boy here." He nodded at the still-gaping Dudley. "I offer you a chance to serve England and the Empire, to help us crush the threat that arises from Hogwarts… and the chance to better your son's future. I offer him an opportunity to join the Imperial Army."
"You mean become a stormtrooper?" Dudley asked, finding words at last.
"There are many paths to take once one enters the ranks," Thrawn answered. "The TIE ranks, the walker pilots… but if you wish to become a stormtrooper, that can be arranged."
"Wicked!" he exclaimed. "I always liked the stormtroopers!"
Thrawn smiled. "If we are to mobilize against Hogwarts, we must act swiftly. We cannot know for certain when they plan to attack. Thus, if you wish to join the Empire, we must take you to Imperial Center immediately."
"What… what about our house?" asked Petunia. "Our things…"
"We can send someone to retrieve your possessions, but perhaps you'd like to simply start over," Thrawn suggested. "After all, you'll be living on Corusant…"
"Done," Vernon said, taking Thrawn's gloved hand and shaking it briskly. "We'll take you up on it." To Petunia he said "Forget the house, we're starting over. It's what's best for Dudley."
"Yes…" she replied distractedly, but she still looked very unsure. "Whatever's good for Dudley…"
Vernon snapped out of his daydream as the ship lurched around them.
"Now approaching Imperial Center," a voice over the intercom announced. "Please have identification ready." The order was repeated in several languages, all totally unfamiliar to Vernon.
"Petunia," he whispered, nudging his wife awake.
She blinked sleepily. "Where are we?"
He grinned widely. "Corusant, my dear. We're beginning a new life… and our son's on a path to greatness."
She gazed anxiously at him. "Vernon… something about this doesn't seem right… I mean, I know you don't like those… people… but Thrawn's accusations seemed pretty harsh…"
"This is that Potter boy's folk we're talking about, Petunia," he replied sternly. "Of course they're up to no good."
She still didn't look too convinced, but at least she didn't say anything else.
"All Imperial Army recruits please have enlistment papers ready and report to Shuttle Bay Four upon landing," the intercom announced again.
Dudley gave the sort of smile he usually exhibited when blowing up something big on his Playstation 2 as he pulled out his papers and stood.
