Chapter 18 – The Stag and the Dragon
The Emperor gave a laugh of pure cold malevolence. "You're trapped, Vader and Potter. It is finished. Surrender now, and we may grant you a painless death."
A sickening thud came from behind them, and Harry turned despite himself. From the look of things, Silvia had finally chosen a side to the Draco/Dudley battle and used the butt of her rifle to knock Malfoy out. She and Dudley now kept their weapons trained on Harry and Vader's backs, waiting for their superiors' signal to fire.
"Pathetic," Voldemort snorted. "Draco shows none of the prowess of his father."
"He is of no consequence," Palpatine said dismissively. "It is Vader and Potter who matter."
A snap-hiss, and Vader's lightsaber flickered to life. "We refuse to surrender."
"Speak for yourself," snarled Voldemort. "Let Potter decide for himself."
Harry raised his wand. "Stupefy!"
Voldemort raised his lightsaber, deflecting the spell. "Ah, so you haven't learned your lesson from our meeting two years ago, Potter. Our wands share a core, pathetic child. They will not work properly against each other." He gave a chilling grin. "I have… other means of killing you."
"You'll have to get through me first," Vader said firmly, moving to place himself between Voldemort and Harry.
"Move!" Harry told him. "I can take him! You have to fight the Emperor!"
Vader moved – but not of his own accord. A blast of Force-lightning flung him across the common room and into the far wall. The Emperor strode into the center of the room, keeping a continuous stream of lightning pouring into the Dark Arts professor. Vader writhed and thrashed, screaming under the attack.
"Professor!"
"He is done for, Potter," Voldemort hissed. "Don't waste your time on him." He slashed at Harry.
Harry hit the floor, and the saber hummed through the air, barely missing him. Voldemort growled and raised the weapon like a battle-ax to cleave Harry in two. He scrambled out of the way as the weapon bit into the floor. He reached for his wand… only to find it gone. He must have dropped it ducking the first strike. Frantically he ran his hands over the floor, trying to locate the weapon.
His hands touched a cool metal grip… Vader's lightsaber.
He'd better not mind that I'm using his saber, thought Harry, and he got to his feet, brandishing the weapon.
Voldemort gave an insulting chuckle. "It helps to turn it on, Potter."
His face flushed red, and he pressed the button. The weapon seemed to buck in his hands as a column of red fire burst from the hilt, emitting a sinister thrum.
Voldemort slashed again, and Harry raised the saber to block. The light sword vibrated with the force of the strike, and the bones in his fingers and wrist seemed to rattle. The next blow almost knocked the weapon out of his clammy hands. This was much harder than it looked!
Harry… Vader's Force-voice was wracked with pain. Use the Force… let it flow through you…
Just shut up and concentrate on your side of the battle! Harry cried in frustration. If you die, the entire prophecy's shot!
And if you die, we fail… trust me… trust in the Force… let go…
Let go of what? His saber? Actually, that didn't sound like a bad idea right now; the weapon was almost more trouble than it was worth.
Let go, Harry. This was an entirely different voice, a pleasant sagacious voice, one Harry had never heard until now. Use the Force. Let go of your preconceived notions and rely on instinct.
Voldemort swung at Harry's head, and his first impulse was to block. But something else seemed to take command of him, to flush him of his panic and infuse him with calm. His arms acted of their own volition, and his weapon moved to block the strike that altered its course and aimed for his stomach rather than his head.
Good, Harry. That move was a feint. Most seasoned fighters would have recognized it, but since you're inexperienced, I gathered you could use the advice.
Who are you?
A friend of your Dark Arts professor. I'm Qui-gon Jinn.
Qui-gon who?
Before the voice could respond, Voldemort attacked with renewed fury. Harry let the Force take control, letting it guide him as it had at their first Quidditch match when Fett had attacked him. Sparks rained down all around as their weapons collided over and over.
Behind you!
Harry whirled, and blaster bolts ricocheted off his blade. The stormtroopers weren't content to just sit back and watch – they were firing at him!
"Enough, you two!" Voldemort snarled. "He's mine!"
Harry saw his opening, and he lunged forward, thrusting his saber at Voldemort's unprotected belly. But he moved almost effortlessly, blocking the attack and retaliating with a complicated series of cuts that hammered at Harry's defenses. The invisible, mysterious Qui-gon coached him through the battle, keeping Harry, if not on the offensive, at least in one piece.
Please let it be over soon, Harry pleaded. Let Vader be all right… let us get out of this alive.
Break…
Luke, Sirius, Hermione, and Ron halted at the bottom of the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. Harsh clashes and a strange electric sizzle could be heard as an unseen battle raged. Luke began to charge up the stairs, but Sirius' hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Something's not right," he said.
"Yeah, I know something's not right," Luke replied, wrenching away. "My father's fighting for his life up there!"
"Ron, Sirius, look!" Hermione shouted, pointing.
A large rat, which had up until now sat motionless on the steps, skittered up the staircase.
"I'd know that rodent anywhere," Sirius said coldly. "Accio Rat!"
The rat flew into Sirius' hands with a shriek of terror. He held the creature up by its tail and pointed to one forepaw. All toes were present… but it had an odd silvery sheen to it, as if the limb were artificial.
"Scabbers!" Ron gaped. "I mean… Wormtail!"
"Peter Pettigrew," Hermione corrected.
"How many names does that rat have?" asked Luke, suppressing a laugh.
"It's no joke, Luke," Sirius replied, pointing his wand at the rat. "Now resume your human form, Wormtail, before I take drastic action."
The rat shrilled loudly, then abruptly shifted to the form of a tiny, watery-eyed man, with Sirius' hand gripping the scruff of his neck.
"Playing spy for your master?" Sirius inquired.
"P-p-please…" pleaded Wormtail. "I w-was j-j-just following orders…" But he plunged his silvery right hand into his pocket, feeling about for his wand.
"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted.
Wormtail collapsed, and Sirius kicked his unconscious body to one side.
"Send a Tracer spell," Sirius ordered. "Then let's go upstairs."
Break…
Fred cheered as another Sheep Bomb landed in the middle of a trench that was swarming with Imperial troops, transforming every stormtrooper within a ten-foot radius.
"Uh-oh, you got a few Rebels too," George noted, lobbing a Sheep Bomb from the top of the Divination Tower where the twins and Boba Fett had stationed themselves.
"Ah, it'll wear off in a few days," Fred said easily. "Then we can sort them all out."
The battle raged on, but it seemed that Hogwarts would triumph today. Already the Imperial troops were beginning to retreat, accompanied by Voldemort's Death Eaters. Those few that stuck around to fight were rapidly being shot, cursed, or transfigured into harmlessness. Most of the enemy army had fled into the Forbidden Forest – an incredibly stupid move, seeing as the centaurs and acromantulas were in no mood to entertain Imperial visitors in their home.
"There's a Death Eater!" shouted Fred, pointing. A hooded wizard was leading a squadron of stormtroopers toward the castle.
Fett dropped a Sheep Bomb in their midst. The Death Eater acted too quickly, however, casting a Bubble Charm on himself and several of the troopers before the weapon could land and release its shape-altering vapor. They pressed on.
"Stang," Fett hissed. "Got any other ideas?"
"Right here," George replied, lifting a heavy sack and dumping it over the side of the tower.
A fine greenish powder settled on the troops like snow, dusting the fish-bowl-like bubbles over their heads like frost. For a moment nothing happened.
Then one of the stormtroopers dropped his gun and clawed like mad at his armor, groaning with some invisible agony. Others followed suit, some falling to the ground and writhing, others tearing off pieces of their armor and rubbing their limbs. The Death Eater scratched at his arms, cursing and shouting, as the Zonko's Itching Powder took effect.
"Nice," Fett noted.
"Isn't it great?" asked Fred with a grin.
"You get it really cheap from Zonko's if you buy in bulk…" added George.
A jet of scarlet light streaked past them.
"Uh-oh, that must be the Tracer spell," Fred said, his smile vanishing.
"Means Harry's in trouble," George added gravely.
Fett drew his blaster. "Let's go."
Break…
Dudley couldn't take his eyes off the battle between Harry and the weird snake-faced wizard. Something told him he should do something – shoot at Harry, throw his thermal detonator, anything – but he couldn't move. It was as if he'd been petrified.
"Why didn't you shoot?" demanded Silvia. "We're here to take out the wizard…"
Dudley shook his head, unable to speak.
"What, you chicken?" Silvia asked scathingly.
He didn't reply. He didn't have the guts to tell her that it was his cousin they were facing, his cousin that was fighting the same wizard that had tried to kill Harry as a boy. Somehow, in this, the unlikeliest of spots, that fact finally hit home. Harry was his cousin, his aunt's son. Never mind that he'd never met his Aunt Lily or Uncle James once, never mind that it was Harry's fault that he'd sprouted a pig's tale and been attacked by dementors, never mind that he'd spent years on a ruthless campaign to make Harry's life miserable. Somehow, when he had the opportunity to kill Harry once and for all – practically been handed it on a silver platter, in fact – he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.
The fizzling on the other side of the room ceased, and he turned his head slightly to see Vader rise from the floor.
Oh no. He didn't need Silvia's urgings to act now. He'd seen "Star Wars" enough times to know a pissed-off Vader was something no one wanted to face. He raised his blaster, having no qualms about shooting Vader if it was necessary.
Break…
Vader gasped for breath as the Emperor finally ceased his lightning assault, struggling to his hands and knees. Something in his chest was buzzing ominously. He wondered how badly his cybernetic components had been damaged by the attack.
"You fool," Palpatine sneered. "You honestly couldn't fathom your own destruction being plotted? Why do you think I forced you to take a year's sabbatical? Why do you think I ordered you to keep me informed of the affairs of the wizard's world? Did you honestly think your year off was a vacation? Don't tell me you were that stupid."
"I trusted you," Vader grated through clenched teeth, his voice distorted by his malfunctioning voice synthesizer. "You were my master. I trusted my master. I now see that my trust was ill-placed." He glared at the Emperor. "You used me."
"You should have seen that from the beginning." Another jolt of electricity seared through his body. "You had a weakness all along – honor. A holdover from your days as a Jedi Knight. You should have shed that honor long ago, when you became a Sith. Honor has no place among us."
He ripped his wand from his belt and shouted "Protego!" The next blast of lightning flowed over him as if being deflected by an invisible bubble.
"You might as well give it up," Palpatine snarled. "You're as good as dead."
Vader spotted Harry over his former master's shoulder, dueling the Dark Lord. He sensed the presence of another with the boy… Qui-gon? An unexpected smile crossed his lips. The renegade Master always had his own style, however unorthodox.
Another blast of lightning, and he renewed the Shield Charm just in time.
"What makes you think you're a match for me?" Palpatine demanded. "Why do you keep pointlessly resisting the inevitable?"
"Prophecy, old man," Vader replied.
"The Chosen One Prophecy?" laughed Palpatine. "You honestly believe that drivel?"
"No," Vader replied. "The Prophecy of the Stag and the Dragon."
"What does that mean?"
He focused with all his might on his memory of Luke and Leia, of their discussion just a week ago, of finally being reunited with his and Padme's children. Confident that it would be enough, he raised his wand again.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The dragon erupted from his wand, screaming its rage. Vader doubted the Patronus would have much effect on the Emperor, but it just might distract him enough to halt the lightning attacks for a while, giving him an opportunity to help Harry. The diversion worked – Palpatine began firing electricity at the beast, but the energy passed through the Patronus as if it were a ghost. The dragon, meanwhile, snapped at the Emperor, causing him to jump back.
The stormtroopers aimed their weapons at Vader, but a gesture and a flicker of the Force crushed their guns to rubble. He turned to Harry, intent on aiding him.
Pain exploded at the base of his spine, spreading throughout his entire body. The Emperor's renewed electric strike invaded him like an acidic poison, burning, searing, wreaking havoc wherever it touched. He fell to his knees, struggling just to breathe. From somewhere far away he could hear his Patronus roar its rage, but he knew the creature was of little use.
His wand flew from his weakened grasp, landing in the Emperor's hand.
Palpatine laughed. "The dragon is slain. Let's see how long the stag holds up to my colleague's skills."
The Patronus snarled, flicking its tail. Something skittered across the floor to come to rest beside his trembling hands – Harry's wand.
Harry screamed. Voldemort's weapon had connected, burning a deep gash down the inside of his right arm from elbow to wrist. The Emperor gave a triumphant cackle, turning his back on Vader to watch the battle.
It was Harry's cry that spurred Vader to action, despite the fact that he was in such agony he could barely move. He struggled to get his fingers around the wand, though he shook so badly he could hardly get a grip on it. Raising his arm, he took careful aim at the Emperor's back.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The Emperor went completely rigid. A look of shock came across his features as he began to topple over.
The dragon Patronus had other plans. It butted the stiffened Emperor slightly to the right with its muzzle, and the tyrant fell, not to the floor, but out the open window. A scream of horrified rage was the last Vader heard from his former master.
He collapsed, wheezing, every nerve in his body throbbing, every circuit scorched to a crisp. Welcome blackness overwhelmed him.
Break…
Harry heard the Emperor's death cry but didn't have time to react to it. He was busy trying to avoid Voldemort's fury.
Your Patronus, Harry! Qui-gon advised.
What are you talking about? That's for fighting dementors!
A Patronus is more than a weapon, Harry. It can defend you in many situations.
I dunno where my wand is!
Remember what Vader told you. You don't need your wand to access the Force.
Was this Qui-gon suggesting he use the Force to summon his Patronus? He'd never tried that before. But he might as well give it a try. He was rapidly running out of options.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Hoofbeats sounded, and the familiar silver stag cantered into view, head lowered to charge Voldemort. The Dark Lord yelped and sprang aside, and the Patronus' antlers caught his robes as it galloped by. Voldemort raised his weapon to take on this new threat… leaving himself wide open.
Harry thrust his saber forward, stabbing Voldemort in the ribs.
A horrible rasping scream filled the air. His scar exploded with agony, pulsing and tearing at his skull with more pain than he'd ever remembered feeling. The fire in his head was so great that he hardly felt the pain of Voldemort's saber as it plunged into his shoulder, burning deeply as the Dark Lord attempted to take Harry with him in his death throes.
"Harry!"
Someone was grabbing Voldemort's hand, yanking the saber out of Harry, shoving the dark wizard's body away. Hands dragged Harry across the common room and dropped him on the sofa. The world swam around him, his shoulder and arm seared as if he'd thrust them into the fireplace…
"Dudley…" he gasped. "Why…"
"What did you do, gringo?" demanded Silvia.
"Harry, don't you dare die on me!" Dudley demanded. "Mum'll kill me, I know it…"
"Senor Dursley, this is the enemy! We were sent to…"
"To hell with that! If you know first aid, help me, but otherwise shut up!"
"Fine," she snorted. "Move aside. I'll treat him for shock."
Through the haze of pain, Harry somehow understood. It was as Sirius had said – ties of blood could not be easily ignored. For all that they were complete opposites, Harry and Dudley were cousins. And that somehow bonded them as surely as prophecy bound Harry and Vader.
"Thanks…" Harry managed.
"Well…" Dudley hesitated. "Don't think I'm gonna save you every time, dweeb."
"Vader…" he whispered. "Help Vader…"
He never knew if Dudley listened to his request, because his world faded to black.
Break…
Luke was the first to enter Gryffindor Tower. He paused at the portal, staring in shock, then ran to his father's side.
"Blimey," Ron said weakly. "This must've been some huge battle."
That was a definite understatement. The room was a disaster – books scattered everywhere, char marks on the floor and walls, furniture overturned or smashed. A black-robed body lay on the floor near the doorway, unmoving, a neat black-edged hole piercing it cleanly. Vader was equally still, his armor smoking, his body slumped next to the cannon that took up a good quarter of the common room. Two ethereal-looking creatures also occupied the room – a stag, which stood by the couch with an oddly concerned expression on its elegant face, and a dragon, which sat by Vader's prone form, its wings spread slightly to cover its conjurer's body like a mother hen protecting her chick.
"Is he alive?" asked Sirius.
"Barely," Luke replied, placing an ear next to Vader's mask. "Hermione, can you conjure a stretcher?"
"Wait a minute," Hermione replied. "Where's Harry?"
Sirius stepped past the stag and looked down on the couch. "What the…"
The stormtrooper looked up at Sirius. "I didn't do it," he insisted fiercely. "That… what's-his-name stabbed him…"
Another stormtrooper knelt beside Harry, checking his pulse. Harry was unconscious, and his right arm and shoulder were both very badly burned. His scar was a vivid red, no doubt greatly aggravated by Voldemort's dying anger. Sirius instinctively knelt and lifted Harry in his arms, ready to take him to the hospital wing.
"Will he be all right?" asked the first trooper.
"I sure hope so," Sirius replied.
The trooper nodded. "I'm Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin. Who're you?"
"Sirius Black, Harry's godfather."
Dudley gulped upon recognizing the name. "Y-you're the one who was in Azkaban…"
"I was wrongfully imprisoned," Sirius said quickly. "Long story, I'll tell you later."
"C'mon," Luke urged, placing a hand on Sirius' shoulder to urge him along. "We've got to get these two to the hospital wing."
Break…
Outside Gryffindor Tower, it was Dumbledore himself that came across the Emperor's body. He knelt and placed a hand on the fallen monarch's chest. Feeling no heartbeat, he gave a grim nod. Then he removed a comm unit from his robes.
"Lady Mothma, the Emperor is dead. The Imperial Army is in full retreat. The battle's over. Call in all forces."
"Yes, Dumbledore."
