Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Harry Potter.
XxXxX
"It's a pretty little world. Looks quiet," Cere said, glancing across the displays as the ship's scopes fed them a steady stream of information. "I'm seeing some basic satellites in orbit, but it's all fairly primitive."
Cal's gaze remained fixed on the planet below. "That matches with what I saw in my vision." He leaned forward, studying the green and blue world that, so far, was unaware of their presence high in orbit.
BD-1, from his perch on the foremost console in the cockpit, tilted his head and gave a whoom of general inquiry.
Cal's lips quirked with a distracted smile. "Yeah, buddy. This is the place. I can feel it."
Behind him, Greez's steady plodding across the decking announced the pilot's reappearance. "Well," the Latero grouched, wiping one set of hands free of engine grease, "that nebula thing we flew through definitely did a number on…basically everything. Hyperdrive's on the fritz, main computer's throwing errors, and the fresher's backed up. Though I can't tell if that last one's because of weird spatial phenomena, or because that bogling's gotten bored of banging up all my air filters and started hacking up hairballs instead." He pointed two right index fingers at Cal accusingly. "Which, need I remind you, you have yet to apologize to me for. Seriously, why would you not mention that you brought a pet onboard for weeks on end? I could have been allergic! And I might still be!"
Cal tore his eyes away from the unnamed planet and smiled disarmingly. "Can you blame me? We were in the thick of things for a while. But what's your read on the Mantis?"
Greez shuffled up to the pilot's seat and swung himself into it. "I can fix it all, sure, no problem. But it'll be easier if we set down somewhere groundside—which I guess was the point of finding this place, so you'll have plenty of time to do some exploring while I get everything put back together the way it should be."
A lighter step from the aft section heralded the arrival of the final member of the Mantis' crew. With her arms full of a happily chirping bogling, Merrin stalked up to the viewport, absentmindedly scratching behind their stowaway's ears.
"This place feels…familiar," she said slowly, peering into the distance with senses other than mere sight. "I can almost taste magicks and their workings. It reminds me of Dathomir."
"You feel it too, huh?" Cal said, crossing his arms. "It's a strong focal point in the Force. I could hear it calling to me as soon as we crossed the boundary of that veil."
"Veil?" Cere asked, turning to look over her shoulder.
Cal blinked. "…dunno. The word just came to me. Feels right, though. Like we passed through something hanging across a door, keeping it hidden."
Greez shook his head as he worked the ship's controls. "There's a reason people don't fly into the Unknown Regions unless they know exactly where they're going. Fastest way to never get found by anyone again short of jumping straight into a star. But hey, when your favorite Jedi says, 'Greez, we've gotta find this backwater planet no one's ever heard of before and might not exist because I had a vision and it feels important,' what am I gonna do? Say no? And am I gonna complain that nothing in space around here matches any galactic landmark on the nav charts? Nope, I'm gonna grin and say, 'Where to next, Cal?'"
"That's the spirit, Greez." Cal closed his eyes, reaching both out and inward for a sense of what needed to come next. Sooner and more clearly than he expected, a point far below drew his attention. "There," he said, pointing. "We should set down there."
Greez scratched his head. "Okay, kiddo. I'm following your lead. Hey, Cere, double-check those signal scramblers for me, would ya? Doesn't look like much down there's going to pay a lot of attention to us, but better safe than sorry."
"On it," Cere said, tapping away at a console.
Merrin's focus shifted as the Mantis began its approach to the planet's atmosphere. "You're sure that this is something you need to do?" she asked, her voice blending accent and curiosity together. "That this is a thing your Force is asking of you?"
Cal nodded as the rarified air below them began to flare with the ship's descent. "Yeah. I am."
Even if I don't know exactly what this is yet, he added mentally.
XxXxX
"Local communications were a breeze to tap into," Cere said as Cal triggered the port ramp. "But it's going to be a little bit before the computer can get the language translated. For that matter, it's going to be a while before we can get the computer back up and running properly. You're sure you're fine with BD staying behind to help with that?"
At her feet, BD-1 gave a regretful blat and shuffled from side to side, but Cal just smiled and knelt down. Patting the little droid's head, he said, "Don't worry, buddy, I'll be alright. Got to make sure I leave everyone here in capable hands, right?"
The droid perked up and whirred in a mixture of acceptance and confidence.
Crossing her arms, Cere glanced out the door into the woods where they'd landed. Dawn was just now breaking, and a sliver of growing light was peeking through the treetops. "It's a short hike to the nearest town, so just keep your eyes and ears open in the meanwhile."
"Got it," Cal nodded. "I'll let you know what I find. Wish me luck."
Cere smiled. "You don't need luck. You're a Jedi. May the Force be with you, Cal."
Tossing a salute, Cal set off down the ramp, smoothing his poncho as he went.
His first step onto the planet's surface took him by surprise. In a heady rush, Cal felt the Force surge around him in a brief gust—full of life and dizzying energy, charged with a kind of bridled chaos that sparked a recollection from years long past.
"The Wild Force," he murmured to himself, thinking back on lessons in philosophy and the history of the Jedi Order. "An aspect of the Force that's rarely been studied or well understood. The magicks and rituals of the Nightsisters of Dathomir are the closest thing to its practice. I guess that explains what Merrin was sensing." He shook himself from his musings and breathed in deeply. The forest here was old and dense; ideal for hiding a starship from—as far as they could gather—a primitive civilization, but it would be a trek to the place that Cal could feel calling to him in the distance. Still, unless he ran into some kind of dangerous fauna, it promised to be a more relaxing jaunt than usual, judging from the peacefulness lingering in the air.
So, Cal passed the next half hour just listening to the sounds of the woods, full of birds and insects going about their business of simply being. He had found a game trail of some kind in short order, and his easy hike afforded him the opportunity to ponder his recurring vision from the past few weeks and its inexorable pull to unknown space. He hadn't been able to explain much about it when asked by his crew, aside from the fact that there was a task which the Force had been calling him to accomplish. The nature of that task was still a mystery to Cal, and he had been forced to fall back onto the first and most important teaching of the Jedi: that he needed to trust in the Force, and that it would lead him to where he needed to be.
By the time Cal emerged from the woods on the outskirts of a small town, he was ready for the change, though he wrinkled his nose at the odor that he soon detected lingering near some kind of road cutting between the trees and a field on the other side.
"Smells like someone was burning something here. Or it's some kind of exhaust," he said aloud, briefly forgetting that his usual travelling companion was still onboard the Mantis. Shaking his head, Cal looked up and down the road to get his bearings. "…well, guess I'll just pick a direction."
Turning left, he set off again, making faster time walking along the road than he had in the woods. On his right, the grassy field stretched on to the top of a series of hills; on their slopes, a herd of white, woolly animals grazed in docile silence. Those that were close enough occasionally looked up as he passed by, but they continued chewing and regarded him with indifference.
Before long, Cal heard the telltale sound of an engine of some kind slowly growing in volume. Turning, he spied a wheeled vehicle with a cab and a flatbed on the back approaching at a decent clip. Without knowing what else to do, Cal stepped off the road into the grass to let it pass by. Evidently, though, the driver of the vehicle found his presence notable enough to slow to a stop as he pulled level.
He appeared to be human, with a bushy beard and a cap pulled low over his eyes against the light of the early morning sun. The man leaned out the vehicle's window and said something unintelligible.
Cal shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, I don't understand. I don't think I speak your language." He mimed words coming from his mouth and shook his head.
The driver stared at him for a few moments before shaking his head and muttering beneath his breath. He then gestured up the road and spread his hand in a question.
Cal mimicked the gesture and nodded. "Uh, yeah. I'm headed that way."
Grunting, the driver considered him for a moment longer before jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Cal looked to the vehicle's flatbed, which was mostly empty aside from a smattering of farming tools and some sacks. Pointing in confirmation and receiving a nod in response, Cal grinned. "That'd be great—thanks for the lift!"
Hopping over the back of the vehicle's tailgate, Cal settled down with his back against one of the sacks as the vehicle set off down the road again. He caught the driver's eye on him a couple of times in a mirror hanging from the center of the windshield, but the man seemed content to otherwise ignore Cal as they made their way down the pavement.
For his part, Cal turned his attention to the countryside and watched the hills roll gently along. All the while, the Force danced at the edge of his senses, drawing him along its currents.
XxXxX
Cal waved in gratitude as the farmer drove off, leaving him at the center of the town's square. There were more people up and about now that the sun had risen, so he attracted a few more looks—likely because of his attire; there didn't appear to be many people dressed in clothing other than suits or other daily wear, so his boots and poncho stood out—but no one had approached him thus far, which suited Cal just fine.
"Probably a good thing Greez didn't come with," he said to himself. "I'm guessing there aren't many non-humans around. No droids that I can see, either."
Setting his hands on his hips, Cal slowly turned around to get the lay of the land.
"…hm. Maybe I can find something helpful in there," he said aloud as his eyes landed on a small shop with an open door. Nearest the door, he could see people stopping by to hand over currency and take away folded sheets of paper with words printed on them. Further beyond the front counter, he could see dozens of books—actual books!—lining the shelves.
Slipping past a patron chatting energetically with the shop's proprietor, Cal shuffled between the shelves, looking for anything that might indicate a source of information he could use in some way. A map of the area would certainly be a good start, even if a dictionary to surreptitiously scan and send to the Mantis was too much to hope for.
Cal let his fingers trail across the shelves, considering the tomes lined up before him. He wondered briefly if there was another way he might go about this (perhaps he could find an information terminal of some sort), but he absently continued his wanderings through the shop on his search—
His fingers made contact with a worn cover.
In a flash of blinding mental strain, Cal suppressed a groan and barely avoided falling to his knees. By the Force, the memories were so strong! He imagined he could feel a wind roaring through his ears and blowing away all conscious thought under a deluge of words and sense. Shuddering and squeezing his eyes shut, Cal took a deep breath and centered himself, letting the echoes of print and voice wash over him.
I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me, he whispered to himself in the darkness behind his eyelids. The old mantra rose from the depths of Cal's studies as a Padawan, buoying him up in the midst of the tumult. He turned inward, calling up more familiar words, oft repeated in his youth. There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge…
Knowledge.
Comprehension.
Cal slowly opened his eyes as the surging tide of his psychometry ebbed, leaving behind a headache and a deep well of—
"You alright there, son?"
Cal straightened and turned, catching his breath as his mind reeled.
The shopkeeper was leaning over his counter, looking at him with some concern.
"Ah," Cal managed, then cleared his throat. His eyes widened reflexively as he came to the belated realization that the shopkeeper had asked him a question, and Cal had understood him.
"I…yeah, I'm fine," Cal answered reflexively—and then stiffened as he felt his mouth and tongue making unfamiliar shapes as he spoke. "Sorry, I just—this book surprised me," he said awkwardly, too bewildered to give a more cogent or sensible explanation.
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, but his eyes tracked the book now clutched in Cal's hands. The man's face lit up in a sudden smile, and he responded enthusiastically, "Oh, I can imagine! Not every day you run across a signed copy of Hemingway on this side of the pond! You've got an eye for literature!"
"I guess you could say that," Cal said, slowly regaining his balance.
The shopkeeper continued blithely, "You visiting from the States? Sounds like you're from Hemingway's neck of the woods, as a matter of fact."
Faint impressions of vague facts leant themselves towards Cal's blind response of, "Oh, yeah—yeah, I'm visiting." He carefully set the worn book back down where he'd found it, mentally catching up as he addressed the other man. "Now that you mention it, I was wondering—well, I'm sightseeing, more or less, but I've gotten a little turned around. I'm looking for…"
His eyes landed on one of the sheets of folded paper—newspaper, he thought to himself, feeling the word rise out of the well of knowledge he'd just absorbed—in front of the shopkeeper, and the now-intelligible letters on the headline spelled out a name that rang a sudden bell of intuition that Cal instinctively knew had been provided by the Force.
"…the best way to get to London."
XxXxX
"Sounds like you've had quite trip so far," Cere said over the commlink. With the volume dialed down just low enough for Cal to hear as he leaned against the train window, her voice was a welcome familiarity—especially since she was speaking in Basic.
"Yeah, pretty much," he answered softly, speaking into his hand as he rested it against his chin. "It's strange, but I've never felt echoes so strongly before. It's not everything here, but often enough…this planet's shot through with veins of the Force, and I think it shows." He'd watched the countryside slip by with more and more buildings taking its place as the train clattered down the tracks. Now he was nearing the heart of this land's capitol, and his senses flared even more frequently as they caught on curious traces of the Force.
"I can feel it here, too," came Merrin's voice. "It is…quite distracting. I've been meditating just to keep myself grounded. It pulls at me in the strangest ways."
"I know what you mean." Cal shifted in his seat, peering ahead to see if he could catch sight of the station they were bound for. "Any luck on slicing into their local information networks?"
"Fortunately, yes, we haven't had any problems on that front now that the computer's back up to speed," Cere answered. "The locals aren't terribly advanced, technologically speaking, but we've been able to start sorting through a lot of data that is available in various database. BD's been compiling reports on the planet's geography, demographics, and history, for the most part. If you point us in a direction, we should be able to find out what you need to know."
"I'm still trying to figure out what I'm here for," Cal admitted. "Could be anything at this point. Is there any mention of the Force, the Jedi, or anything else in their records that stands out to you?"
"Not that we can see," Cere said. A few bleeps and bloops in the background indicated BD-1's agreement. "As best I can tell, this is a developing world that hasn't seen or heard anything about life beyond the solar system. It might be a human colony that lost contact with the galaxy at large in ancient times, but I can't say for sure. In any case, I take it you've been keeping a low profile so far, and I definitely recommend you keep it up. No sense in shocking the inhabitants with news that they're not alone in the universe. We've got other things on our plate to manage."
"Copy that." Cal craned his neck as the train began to slow. "Looks like we're about to pull into the station. I'll keep you updated on what I find."
"Be safe, Cal," Merrin chimed in before they cut the call.
Stretching, Cal stood and walked to the nearest compartment door. Once the train had ground to a halt and the doors opened, he stepped out onto the platform and into the mid-day crowd. He allowed the mass of people to carry him along, exiting the station after some minutes as they spilled out into the city.
The noises of the population and the fumes of combustion engines took some adjustment after months of wanderings on mostly deserted planets and the relative quiet of ship travel, but Cal found himself enjoying the presence of so many people free from the rule of the Empire. As near as he could tell, everyone here was busy with his or her own life, and even the uniformed officials he occasionally saw showed very little interest in their doings. It was a breath of fresh air for the young man, even if you rarely had such a literal thing in the city.
It was in the midst of these musings that Cal suddenly felt the Force twisting strangely to his side. Turning sharply, he studied his surroundings with an intense look, and his hand strayed toward his lightsaber, concealed as it was beneath his poncho. Yet, the Force didn't convey a sense of alarm—rather, it simply swirled in a curiously static pattern, almost like an electrical field running through the walls of…
…a building of some sort. It was tiny and grubby, and it seemed that most of the people on the street were ignoring it. In fact, as Cal watched, he noted that the eyes of his fellow pedestrians slid straight across it, as though they couldn't see it at all.
"..now that seems like something I'm looking for."
Cal casually made his way up to the building. After a brief glance to either side, he opened the door and stepped inside.
It was nearly as dark and shabby inside as it was outside. As Cal's eyes adjusted from the outside light, he realized that, for the first time, his clothing was not so out of place; several individuals scattered about the interior were wearing full robes, and some had brimmed hats either topping their heads or hanging from hooks on the wall. Most of them were eating or drinking, he noted, though an old bald man behind a bar was conversing in low tones with another man seated there. The former looked up at Cal's entrance, and appeared to study him closely to see what he would do.
As discretely as he could, Cal stepped further into the building, trying to appear as though he belonged. A light touch with the Force aided this air of nonchalance, and the barman's eyes lost focus as his interest waned and he returned to his conversation.
Breathing a slight sigh of relief, Cal considered his next steps—before he found that they were not quite his own. With his connection to the Force widened ever so slightly with his conscious use of it, Cal discovered that he was now walking into the back quite independently of his own free will. Carried along by the Force's guidance, the young man swiftly found himself faced with a brick wall in a small courtyard behind the grimy pub.
"…well, that's something," Cal said aloud. "Now what?"
He chewed his lip as his gaze drifted about him. Then he stopped as he realized that he could see the faintest of swirling colors around one of the bricks.
"I wonder…"
He reached up to touch the wall where he could sense the past presence of others—and instinctively tapped it three times.
The brick quivered and the wall unfolded into an archway in a shimmer of Force energy unlike anything Cal had seen before—though he could feel now that the nondescript aura covering the building behind him had a similar impression in the energies surrounding him.
"The Wild Force," Cal reasoned to himself, murmuring in awe at the sensation. "They have some way of using it here."
And then he glimpsed the street beyond.
It was a dazzling array of colors and shapes in every configuration. Shops laid straight and askew equally, with angles that appeared structurally unsound in some places but utterly perfect in others. Potted plants in nearby displays swayed and moved alternately between reaching for the sun and leaning into the shadows of passersby, while carts moved and unfolded themselves as their proprietors migrated to more advantageous locations. He could hear hoots from birds, the tramp of boots on cobblestone up and down the way, and the continual babble of voices caught up in commerce and conversation.
And through it all, the Force flowed in streams and flickers of light and color.
"It's beautiful," Cal said aloud, caught in wonder at the bridled chaos of life and its welling energy.
"Glad you think so, son, but would you mind moving out of the way? Some of us don't have all day to gawk."
A voice from behind startled Cal into stepping aside. An old woman, hunch-backed and dressed in flowing robes that would have put any Jedi of the Order to shame, brushed by without another word; she immediately stepped up to a cart advertising trays of "puffapods" and "fluxweed" for less than "seven sickles apiece," and immediately began haggling with the cart's minder.
Cal stepped forward cautiously, wary of more foot traffic. But he soon found himself swept along not by the Force, but by the simple strangeness and absurdity of everything on display in this narrow marketplace. Shops selling odd treats and arcane trinkets were sprinkled between others peddling everything from cauldrons to broomsticks that floated in the air; some had signs for self-cleaning cloaks and robes, while others proclaimed the virtues of Never-Ending-Ink-Wells and Ever-Sharp-Quills. If there were a single trend or shared trait throughout, it was the sheer magical air of it all.
"Wait 'till Merrin hears about all of this," Cal said to himself as he looked into the window of a store selling hundreds of brightly colored potions in glass vials. A selection of their advertised effects and intended purposes, written in small script across a wooden sign at the front, promised such astounding results as de-aging (temporary), lockjaw-inducing, pepperup energy, and the regrowing of bones in mere hours—to name just a few.
Cal couldn't say how long he lingered in the street, just drinking in the sight of everything there was to see, but it was probably enough to start drawing attention. Even if the fashion of this place was as varied and bizarre as its goods and services, Cal's own clothing combined with his constantly befuddled expression had started to attract a few raised eyebrows. Once he realized this, Cal decided that it was time to find a place to gather his thoughts. Without further consideration, he slipped into one of the shops, barely noticing the faint tinkling of a bell as he stepped inside.
It was a very small place in one sense, and strangely vast in another. There was just a single chair and a countertop at the front of the shop, but a series of incredibly tall shelves stretched up to the ceiling and far back—almost out of sight, and Cal's neck prickled with the sense that this shouldn't quite be possible in the area he had expected the shop to contain, judging from its exterior. On the shelves were thousands of narrow boxes, piled almost indiscriminately in a jumble.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Cal jumped and focused his gaze on the old man who had appeared as though from thin air between two of the shelves. The man's eyes shone with a silvery light, and they were fixed on Cal with disconcerting intensity.
"Um…hello," Cal said, slightly overwhelmed. "Sorry, I stepped in without thinking. I'm looking for…ah…" He trailed off, realizing both that he still didn't know what he was looking for, and that he didn't know what to say to this man in its place.
"Very rarely do we know what we are truly looking for," the old man said in a wizened tone. He didn't seem to have blinked at all since first setting eyes on Cal. "Sometimes it is necessary to simply stumble across it before we do."
Cal opened his mouth before closing it again in an absence of intelligent thought to offer in response.
The old man, however, didn't appear to mind. He studied Cal for a few moments more before declaring, "You've come a long way on your search, I suppose."
"…you might say that," Cal managed, trying to regain his footing. "I…don't suppose you could help point me in the right direction?"
The man suddenly flitted over to a shelf. "Perhaps. It's a tricky matter, I think." He spared a glance at the young man before returning to his study of the boxes before him. "Your name?"
"Uh, Cal. Cal Kestis."
"Mr. Kestis," the old shopkeeper said slowly, as though testing the name. "Very well. My name is Ollivander. My family has run this shop and others like it for centuries. We have served all sorts of patrons in that time, and I daresay we shall for some time to come. Now and then, as it happens, we are presented with special challenges, and I find those instances to be the most…intriguing."
His spindly fingers danced across the shelf space before abruptly plucking a box from the stack. Turning, he approached Cal and pulled the top of the box away.
Nestled in a bed of dark velvet was an elaborately carved wooden stick. Cal looked down at it, nonplussed.
"Well, go on," Ollivander said, sounding somewhat impatient.
Cal blinked before slowly reaching for the item he'd been presented with. When his fingers brushed its wooden surface, his eyes widened as he felt the Force spark beneath his fingertips.
Ollivander immediately pulled the box away and snapped it closed again. "No, no, not that one. Unicorn hair is too narrowly focused for you, I see. Something with more vigor, I think."
He scuttled back into the rows of shelves, leaving Cal to stare down at his hand in confusion. Shaking it as though to flick away the static charge still lingering on his skin, Cal sidestepped to follow the old man's progress. Further down the row, Ollivander had pulled down another box and was making his way back.
"Try this one. Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Rigid, but sturdy. I expect that will garner a better reaction."
Cal cautiously reached for this new piece of wood—more plain than the previous offering—and stretched out with his senses as he did so. With the Force enhancing his perception, he could feel…something within the item pulsing. When his fingers lifted it from its box, he held it gingerly and stared as small currents of Force energy swirled around his hand and over the wood.
He had barely begun to take stock of the sensation before Ollivander plucked it from his grasp. "Hm, no, it lacks some particular essence on which to build your connection. A depth of feeling, perhaps, or experience. Or, I wonder, suffering? Very interesting."
Cal watched in growing bewilderment as Ollivander darted back into the depths of the shop. "Um…sorry, but I'm kind of lost here."
"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Kestis," came Ollivander's voice from the shadows between the shelves. "It's an aphorism of sorts—an abbreviated truth that hints at grander workings. Much of magic is that way, I suppose."
Cal cocked his head. "Magic, huh?" He crossed his arms, contemplating his experiences on this world thus far. "I guess that tracks."
The shuffling of boxes reached his ears, along with faint mutterings and exclamations. "Perhaps…ah, but no…or maybe…hm, too springy and new. Something weightier, I think…ah, yes…yes, I believe this might…"
The noises ceased, and Ollivander reemerged with a single, battered box held reverently in his hands. "This, Mr. Kestis, was a wand crafted by my grandfather many years ago. It is rare for a wand to willingly accept a new owner, but this one has changed hands several times—whether gifted or inherited—since it was first sold, and each time it was to the benefit of its new wielder, aging like a fine wine as it was carried forward. It happened to make its way back to this shop some time ago after its last owner passed on due to the pox, you see, and I believe it is time for it to embark on a new journey."
He opened the box, and Cal's breath caught at the sudden surge in the Force. Shimmering faintly in eddies of blue energy, laden with echoes and remembrances, the wood was carved organically, with elegant curls at the base tapering into a smooth handle before again flowering above the place where a wielder's hand would rest; throughout, two colors melded around each other like entwined boughs, twisted seamlessly into a single shaft of gleaming wood.
"Twelve inches, with a phoenix feather core," Ollivander said softly. "Aspen and pine—a true oddity in wandcrafting, I must say, to use two different woods, but my grandfather's notes stated that it was simply meant to be. The core would accept no other container." He proffered the box without another word.
Cal looked into the old man's moon-like eyes before bringing his hand forward. In an instant, the wand leapt from the box of its own accord and slapped straight into his palm, and—
Magic and memories swirled alike in his mind as the wand flowed through myriad motions in past echoes of lives once lived. Words accompanied the movements, resting on the tongue like effervescent water, carrying in them the breath of the Wild Force, reined and released in equal measure. Thought faded into feeling and sensation joined with reality until it was one, a unified flow of power and energy, life effusive in its splendor.
When Cal came back to himself, he realized that he was surrounded by visible currents of color and twinkling specks of light showering down around him. Before him, Ollivander slowly clapped his hands.
"Yes. Yes, indeed," the old man murmured with a smile. "Ah, how delightful to see such a match. The highlight of my year, I must say."
Cal looked down at the wand in his hand, instinctively reaching into it with the Force. It thrummed in response, and he felt another jolt of surprise. "It feels like my crystal," he said aloud. At his side, his lightsaber pulsed in time with the wand.
"Hm? Ah, I had wondered about that focus," Ollivander said as he sidled up to the counter, apparently making a note in a ledger. His eyes slid to where Cal's lightsaber lay hidden beneath his poncho. "Wandlore has it that ancient mages once housed crystals of great potency atop their staves, and used them in place of wands. I've not seen such a staff outside of a museum, but I'm told that some cultures in the wider world still use comparable foci in other manners."
Cal recalled Merrin's shattered crystal orb, which she used to channel her Nightsister magicks. "Yeah, I think it's safe to say that there are a few out there who practice something similar." He shook himself. "Um, so—I have to owe you something for this, right?" He hefted the wand uncertainly, still wrapped in warmth and awe.
Ollivander, however, waved dismissively. "My grandfather sold the wand many years ago, Mr. Kestis—it just found itself back under my roof temporarily. In any case, I would consider this experience payment enough. It is exceedingly rare to see true magic at work when you set aside trivial spells and charms."
"Ah. Alright then," Cal said. He bowed slightly, unsure of what else to do. "Thank you very much, sir. I'll honor this gift."
"I have no doubt," Ollivander said with a slight smile, his eyes shining dimly in the shop's wan light. "I only ask that you use it well on your journey. It will be, I think, a road of many miles."
XxXxX
Cal stepped back into the street with a new sense of comfort and familiarity. It was the wand, he thought, still trickling new (or old, maybe) knowledge into his mind. Watching as…wizards and witches around him went about their daily lives, he began to catch and recognize the subtle, casual use of their powers. A flick of the wand to lighten the load of their shopping; a slow sweep to clear dirt from the hem of a muddied garment; the almost jocular swish by one particular fellow to change the color of his companion's robes as the latter stammered his way through a conversation with a fetching young lady with mischievous eyes.
It was a whole world of magic, he could see. Potent, heady, and almost innocent in its disregard to the laws of nature and its physics. Even his deepest studies in the Jedi arts—whether before or after the Purge—had not hinted at such possibilities.
He had an inkling, now, why he was supposed to be here. The shadow of a darkened galaxy beyond crept in at the edges of Cal's vision, and he shook his head to clear it.
These people had taken care to hide themselves from their own world, he sensed. How much more would they need to hide themselves from powers outside it, if they should learn of this world's existence?
Cal leaned against a lamppost, deep in thought.
If we only stumbled across this planet because I was looking for it, maybe it's safe enough as it is, he mused. The nebula in the Unknown Regions had been small—too small to hide an entire solar system, certainly, and with not a trace of it visible here beyond their entry coordinates, it seemed more like a concealed doorway into another place entirely than merely a landmark on the way to unexplored space.
Still. It wouldn't hurt to confirm that this world was still hidden from other eyes, if that was possible.
Nodding to himself, Cal pushed off of the post and made his way down the street with a fresh spring in his step. At either side, his lightsaber and his new wand pulsed with gentle eddies in the Force, seeming almost to guide his steps with gentle tugs. Before long, he found himself in front of a bookstore—this one much more clearly magical than his first stop of the day in the town not far from the Mantis' landing site.
The covers of many of the books moved—whether they featured portraits of their writers or subjects, fanciful illustrations, or even simple printed patterns, subtle motion in them all caught his eye at each display in the front window.
"Sure beats a hologram," Cal said to himself, enchanted with the minor artistry gracing each book's face. After studying the displays for a short while, he stepped inside in search of something more tangibly helpful in his current quest.
It took more than an hour for him to admit defeat. There were simply too many subjects covered, with little in the way of guides or topical indexes. As best he could tell, the store was divided into two sections; the first appeared to cater to light pleasure reading, with uproarious and whimsical fiction stuffing the bookshelves, while the second seemed to stock textbooks for children. These Cal perused with more attention, but many appeared to be either introductory material, or hopelessly technical and narrowly focused in various arcane fields.
Scratching his head, Cal contemplated trying his commlink again, but it seemed that the chaotic Force energies in the area were effectively blocking any transmissions. With a sigh, he sank into a chair and stared at the mass of pages and covers before him, uncertain of where to go from here.
"Can I help you, sir?" came a voice.
Cal looked up to see the manager approaching. "Oh, hi. I hope so? You see, I—"
"Ah, you're an American?" the manager interjected. "Haven't had a Yankee in Flourish and Blotts for ages, I reckon. What can I do for you?"
Cal scratched the back of his neck. "Um, yeah—visiting from…the other side of the pond," he said, hoping that he'd repeated the idiom correctly. "I'm looking for books about concealment, I guess. You know, hiding things with—magic."
"Well, I've got a few Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks scattered about here," the manager said cheerily. "Have you had a go at some of them?"
"A bit, yeah," Cal admitted. "I'm kind of interested in…I suppose you could say large-scale application? Or at least, trying to find out more about how it might be done on a large area, what to look for. That sort of thing. Like how the whole street's hidden from the outside world," he added with a burst of inspiration.
"Hm." The bookstore manager tapped his chin. "Well, the Muggle-Repelling Charm's one of the things tied up in Diagon Alley's protections, but if you're wanting a more comprehensive survey of the topic, I can't say that I've got anything in stock that would cover it at the moment. Hasn't been much call for that sort of thing for about, oh, fifteen years or so now."
"Oh. That's too bad," Cal said, shoulders slumping.
The manager, however, raised his hands in consolation. "Now, I don't think you're quite out of luck yet." He tapped his chin once more in thought. "Alright, I tell you what. Hogwarts—that's the best school in the country, you know—has a library that puts little shops like mine to shame, even if I hate to admit it. They've been known to issue passes to researchers to let 'em browse and find what they're looking for. Mind you, you'd have to ask the headmaster and get permission. Still, if you can't find anything in the Alley—and if I don't have what you're looking for, you probably won't find it anywhere else around that's still savory—that might be your best bet."
"Hogwarts," Cal repeated, feeling the name dance across his tongue. The wand at his side seemed to warm as a series of images floated behind his eyes—a starlit castle overlooking a great lake and a dark forest, its windows shining with blazing light and something that felt like hope. With the mental vista came more knowledge—Destination, Determination, Deliberation—and a magnet pull to the north.
He smiled. "I think that sounds perfect."
XxXxX
Cal stumbled forward as the sensation of being squeezed into a tube and hurtling through space began to fade as quickly as it had come. Groaning, he pressed a hand to his pounding forehead.
"That…was not pleasant," he managed to say. "I think I'll have to ask Merrin how she does it. Her method looks a lot easier, even if it's flashier."
On his wrist, his commlink began to flash, indicating an incoming message. Absently, Cal flicked a button to accept it.
"Cal, what's your status?" Cere's voice issued from the device. "You've been incommunicado for hours now."
"Long story," Cal said, sitting down on the low stone wall at the edge of the field where he'd appeared out of thin air. Glancing around, he could see the village ("Hogsmeade," he somehow knew it was called) laid out at the base of a much larger set of rolling hills, and atop those—
A great castle loomed over the countryside. It positively shone in the Force, and for a moment Cal felt like he was back in the Jedi Temple before the Purge, or before the Clone Wars had even begun. It wafted a gentle, warm breeze over the land, and Cal caught his breath as he reflexively reached out to bask in its glow.
"Do you have the time to share it now, or are you in the middle of something? We've only just been able to get through to you. There's been a lot of interference on your end. We were just about to come looking for you." Cere's voice broke into his concentration, but the castle's pleasant sense of peace lingered in the Force nonetheless.
"Right. Um, yeah, I've got time now," Cal said. "Just let me catch my breath. Today's been…something of a whirlwind."
His update took almost half an hour between all of his disjointed observations and his crew's increasingly incredulous questions (mostly from Greez in the background), though Merrin's fascination with Cal's discoveries were a reward well worth the time. The fact that his wanderings had uncovered magics of this kind seemed to have made Merrin feel a little less lost in the galaxy on the whole.
"It is a…relief that others practice something like what my sisters and I were raised to know," she said in a soft voice. "Thank you, Cal. I look forward to hearing more when you return."
"Glad to share," Cal said, now standing. "Well, now that we're all caught up, I'm going to see if I can learn anything here."
"We'll be waiting. Let us know if you need anything."
"Will do."
Ending the call, Cal set off down the main path with fresh purpose. He'd arrived just outside the wizarding village, and he had a straight shot towards the castle and its grounds. The air in the highlands here was crisp and had the slightest suggestion of oncoming coolness—perhaps a herald of the change in seasons on the early side of winter. Cal's pace was equally brisk, and he luxuriated in the clarity of the Force as much as in the cleanness of the air.
It was with this meditative calm that Cal realized that he'd suddenly overtaken a tall, much older man with a resplendent white beard and curiously bright robes.
"Sorry, didn't see you there," Cal said as he stepped to the side of the lane, almost treading on the hem of the man's robes. "I got caught up in my thoughts."
The older man looked over the rim of his spectacles and down a crooked nose at Cal. "It's no trouble, my boy," he said in a grandfatherly tone. "I find this walk often lends itself to such a thing. As long as you keep on the path, you tend to find yourself again before too long."
Cal studied the man before him, blinking back a sudden misting at the corner of his eyes. It had been years since Cal had spent time in the Jedi Temple or been under the tutelage of a master, but this man…he felt like one of the old Jedi masters who'd seen so much of the galaxy before returning to Coruscant to teach and guide the young. On a day full of wonders and surprises, this unexpected comparison tugged at Cal's heart in a way he hadn't expected.
Surreptitiously clearing his throat, Cal gestured up the path. "You're, uh, heading to the castle?"
"I am," the other man confirmed as they continued on. "I have spent a great deal of time there over the years, but occasionally one feels the need to step away for a pint." He chuckled good-naturedly before adding, "And then to return with a belly full of butterbeer. Little homecomings help one appreciate what he has, even in the midst of challenges that might call for such a drink in the first place."
"Yeah. I know that feeling," Cal said, finding himself more comfortable in this conversation than he had at any other point in the day.
"And what brings you to our hallowed halls?" the old man asked, eyes twinkling. "I assume that the castle is likewise your destination."
Cal scratched the back of his neck. "Hogwarts, yeah. I just came from—from London, and Diagon Alley. Someone told me I might be able to find some books there that could help me answer a question."
"Oh?" The man hummed. "And what question might that be?"
Cal considered this. "I guess…how to protect a lot of people from something they don't know about."
"Hm. An admirable objective," his travelling companion said. "Protection in what sense?"
"Well, keeping innocent lives out of sight from forces that would want to use them," Cal said, trying to formulate his response. "Concealing them, or making sure that what they've been doing on their own is enough."
"I see," the old man said, lapsing into thought for a time. "In general, there are certainly a variety of methods to accomplish such a thing, though which one is most suitable would depend greatly on the circumstances. Might I ask…why do you find it necessary to pursue this question?"
Cal looked up at the castle before them. The late afternoon sun was on the verge of taking on golden hues, and the massive structure was now backlit in its rays. Across the grounds, the outlines of the castle's towers sprawled in deep lines of shadow, reaching out as though to welcome them.
"Because there's darkness out there. It's always looking for sources of light to drown them out. Or worse…" Cal trailed off briefly. "Or worse, to turn them into sources of darkness instead. And it always comes for the people who can't defend themselves. So, it's up to those of who keep watch to make sure that they have a fighting chance, in whatever way that's possible. And if there's a way that means that some don't have to fight at all…I think that's something worth searching for."
"…admirable, as I said," the old man repeated, regarding Cal with a look more appraising than before. Cal ducked his head, feeling as though he'd made too much of a question posed by Master Tapal during one of their lessons, but the wizard at his side merely nodded slowly.
They continued on in silence until they came upon a pair of tall pillars, each capped with a winged boar; between the pillars were a set of great iron gates, which appeared to be locked.
Cal pushed on the gate experimentally, but they held fast. "So, what now? Do we wait for someone to unlock it?"
The old man laughed, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Oh, the school's professors are authorized to open the school's gates at need. And, as it happens, so is the headmaster." Withdrawing a long, dark wand, the wizard tapped the gates gently and they parted with a muted click.
Cal regarded the man before him with a sense of wry understanding. "You're in charge around here, huh? Makes sense, somehow."
The headmaster laughed again. "'Sense' is all too rare a luxury, whether it is 'common' or simply 'good,'" he said, tapping the side of his crooked nose. "If you have found some in your comings and goings, I recommend you keep it close. But I believe you were looking for something else to begin with. Shall we see if we might find that as well?"
XxXxX
Headmaster Dumbledore, as he had given his name, was a welcome source of information—but even more appreciated was his respect for the intentional vagueness of Cal's inquiries as they walked through the high halls of the castle interior.
"You have nothing to apologize for, my boy," Dumbledore said graciously in response to Cal's contrition. "In some matters, the less that is known by other parties, the better it is for all. I believe the general line of your questioning has provided me with an idea of what you might need to seek out. With that in mind, it is simply a case of going to—ah, Delores, what a delight to see you this fine afternoon."
The pair came to a halt just in time to avoid bowling over a short, squat woman who looked—at first glance to Cal—like nothing so much as a pale oggdo. She had a wide, slack mouth and almost no neck to speak of, and her bulging eyes were fixed on them with something like a polite predator's regard.
She was also dressed in a ghastly pink cardigan over a set of rather frumpy robes.
"Hem hem," the woman said, clearing her throat. "Ah, Dumbledore, just the man I was looking for. I'm afraid that I must speak with you about—and who is this?" she asked, switching focus as she appeared to notice Cal for the first time.
Against his first instincts, Cal put a hand forward. "Cal Kestis. I'm visiting."
The woman took this in with a slightly pained look around her eyes before she masked it with an unconvincing smile. "Ah. An…American." She nodded her head in what Cal supposed was meant to be a greeting, and he dropped his hand with some small relief.
"Mr. Kestis, may I present Professor Dolores Umbridge, our visiting Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Dumbledore said, his tone perfectly cheerful—though Cal could sense a layer of consternation and some deeper watchfulness in the man through the Force.
"…nice to meet you, ma'am," Cal said, turning his attention to the woman. He noted with some amusement that the velvety bow perched on top of her head barely came up to his shoulder. "That sounds like quite the subject matter."
Umbridge cleared her throat again. "Yes, well, it's not a topic that requires much practical instruction in this day and age—but of course, the Ministry is firmly in support of making sure our young witches and wizards know the proper theory. Speaking of which, Headmaster, I must trouble you to remember our meeting scheduled for this afternoon. I have been searching the whole castle for you to discuss how the students—"
"Ah, my apologies, Dolores," Dumbledore interjected smoothly. "I'm afraid I wandered down to Hogsmeade for some refreshment. Our appointment quite slipped my mind—I had just finished speaking with Minister Fudge a little while ago, you see, and I somehow got it into my head that the topic had been exhausted for the day. But no matter! Let us be off now, and I will be sure to give your latest report a very careful hearing." He turned, evidently ignoring the flapping of the woman's mouth as it opened and closed wordlessly. "Mr. Kestis, I'm afraid I must take my leave of you. Official Ministry and school business calls, it seems. But I hope that you have a place to start now, and I believe that—ah, what wonderful timing, Ms. Granger!"
A small group of students had been passing by, giving the adults in their midst a coordinated set of appraising side-eyes, but one of them stopped at hearing her name called. Bushy-haired and slight, the girl looked between the trio and asked politely, "Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"
"Mr. Kestis is a visiting scholar from overseas, and he has need of our library's resources. Could I trouble you to show him to the library and help him get settled?" the old man asked, smiling slightly.
The girl ducked her head in an assenting nod. "Of—of course, Professor. I'd be glad to!"
"Excellent! And one more thing, I think. Ms. Granger, do you have a slip of parchment handy?"
The student did, and she also produced a quill for the old man's use. Dumbledore jotted a note and signed it with a flourish, handing it to Cal. "That will provide you with permission to access the Restricted Section, my boy, should you need it," he said, which appeared to inspire a bout of sputtering from Umbridge, who had been left ignored at their side for some time now. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he gave a slight wink. "Feel free to take as much time as you need. And should you find the opportunity, please do stop by my office before you depart. I would be glad to hear if your research bears fruit."
Cal accepted the parchment with a suppressed grin. "Thank you very much, sir. I really appreciate it."
"Think nothing of it. Now, Dolores, shall we? I believe when we last touched on the subject, you had said something regarding the, what was it again? Ah, the 'lax standards and abysmal performance of my predecessors'…?"
Cal snickered just a little as the pair set off down the corridor, with the squat woman trying her level best to keep up with the taller wizard's long strides while getting a word in edgewise.
The student's gaze flitted between her departing professors and the poncho-clad stranger, her eyes brimming with both curiosity and bewilderment.
XxXxX
"…and if you're looking for information on nexuses of magical energy—whether natural or ritually imbued—that would be in this section here," the student named Hermione Granger was saying authoritatively. Cal staggered after her, his arms full of various tomes and even a couple of scrolls.
"If you're definitely investigating methods of tying an ongoing protection charm into a specific location, as opposed to a group of people, I'm certain that the Fidelius Charm is the perfect jumping-off point," the girl continued brightly as she pulled down yet another thick book. "There's lots of information about its casting in here. But if you think you that a more general coverage is necessary, you might have better luck looking into the history of Diagon Alley and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross. I know that the charms there are as old as the structures themselves, which suggests to me that there's an architectural component involved…"
And she pulled down yet another volume.
Cal was having flashbacks to his time as a youngling being sent to the Archives for assignments—albeit with a much more enthusiastic and youthful Madame Nu as his guide.
"I really think this should get me started, yeah," he managed to chime in as he carefully set his stack of tomes down at a vacant table. "Thank you, Ms. Granger—you've been a big help."
"Oh, I'm happy to have been of service!" the girl replied, beaming. "I've so rarely seen visitors to the library at Hogwarts. I know that it's an unmatched collection in many respects, but I'm glad to see it in use by more than just the students! To think that someone might travel from the United States to do research here—it's so exciting!"
A less overwhelmed portion of Cal wondered what the girl would make of the distances that he'd actually traveled to get here, but the majority of his attention was caught up in the covers in front of him. "Well. I suppose I should let you get to class, or—sorry, it must be almost dinner by now."
The student's eyes widened as she declared in a rush, "Oh, is it? I completely forgot, I have to meet Harry and Ron, we're supposed to review our essays for Professor Spout on Self-Fertilizing Shrubs since they're due tomorrow—best of luck with your research, Mr. Kestis!" The girl shot off like a dart, bookbag held tightly to her side.
Cal was left in a daze, and without BD-1 to scan and analyze the mountain of books in front of him, it promised to be a long evening ahead.
And it was. By the time that the windows had begun to show hints of stars piercing the curtains of growing gloom outside, the lamps overheard had dialed up to cast flickering illumination over the myriad open pages and notes scattered in front of the young Jedi. But throughout, Cal had only barely begun to make headway through the material.
Sighing, Cal leaned back and stretched to work out the kinks in his back. "Never thought that spelunking in ancient Zeffo ruins would be less work than flipping through pages," he murmured to himself, grinding his palms into his eyes.
Hm. Actually, that was a thought.
Cal sank back into his chair to chase his musings properly, crossing his arms and letting his chin sink to his chest.
Eno Cordova's explorations and uncovering of ancient Zeffo mysteries had been predicated on the proposition that the species had built tombs and constructed relics for the purpose of revealing them to those who held their keys. Whenever Cal had followed Cordova's path, he had simply put one foot in front of the other, letting the Force guide him on an unconscious level. The path had always revealed itself to him, and pushing too hard to find a way on his own had only clouded the clarity needed to actually find the way.
So, what if he was overthinking things here and now? Glancing at the growing list of cross-references and notations on a sheet of parchment left to him by Ms. Granger, Cal took a deep breath and let it go in a slow stream. Closing his eyes, and drawing out his wand, he let the world drift away as he submerged himself in the currents of the Force that flowed around him.
"Accio," he intoned softly before he even knew what the word meant.
A thump startled him back to alertness. In a moment, he realized that a much older tome had leapt off a nearby shelf and landed directly in front of him.
"…was it really that simple?" Cal asked himself, torn between being peeved and relieved at the prospect of some progress. Straightening, he leaned over to study the volume.
"…'Stonehenge,' huh?"
XxXxX
"Ah, Mr. Kestis," Dumbledore said, smiling behind his desk. "I'm glad to see you were able to find your way here. Would you care for a lemon drop?"
Cal regarded the proffered dish with curiosity. "Sure, thanks. Sounds like a good way to cap things off." Popping the candy into his mouth, he sank into a chair. "Hm. Not bad."
Dumbledore sat down in his own chair, eyes once again twinkling. "Do you realize how rarely anyone takes me up on that offer? Sometimes I don't know whether to be offended or simply disappointed." He folded his hands on his desk. "But I hope your search was in fact fruitful?"
"I think so," Cal said, rolling the hard candy around in his mouth. "If I'm right, I have one more stop to make. After that…" he shrugged. "I guess we'll see."
"Ah. Then I'm glad that Hogwarts has been able to assist you in this endeavor." The headmaster leaned back, his eyes taking on a distant quality. "Such is our school's purpose, and we try our very hardest to ensure it is fulfilled."
"Yeah, speaking of which, I passed by that Umbridge woman on my way up. She didn't look too pleased."
"Yes, well," Dumbledor said, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "So often we find that when we do not get what we want, we are forced to consider why we want it in the first place. And that self-examination can be more…frustrating for some. Especially when they miss the point entirely, and are forced to pursue their goal by other means."
"Sounds like you're in for some trouble," Cal observed, shaking his head. "I've got a bad feeling about that lady. No offense."
"None taken. Her hiring was, as you may have surmised, a decision not wholly within my control. But, if I may speak frankly, we shall weather it as we have so many other tribulations over the years." Dumbledore considered the young man before him. "I take it that, despite your youth, you are no stranger to such trials of one sort or another."
"I guess you could say that, yeah," Cal said. Once again, he felt himself transported across space and time; he might well have been sitting in front of Master Yoda, for all the quiet wisdom he could feel settled in the being across from him. "It's…been a long road. With a lot of ups and down, and trying to find my way between the shadows. Trying to find the light and keep it close."
"A journey that many should embark on with such deliberation," the headmaster said solemnly.
The two sat in companionable silence for a time as the headmaster's various gadgets and devices whistled or whirred softly in the background. Finally, as the sun's last rays faded beneath the embrace of true evening, Cal stood. "Well, I should be going. I have to thank you again for offering your library to me. It was invaluable, really. Though I think I left a bit of a mess for your librarian to clean up."
Dumbledore chortled. "Oh, I suspect that Madam Pince will not truly mind. Seeing evidence of such studiousness, coupled with diligent care for her books, is one of her pleasures in life."
Cal had glimpsed the thin, irritable looking woman lingering on the edges of his vision once or twice during his time in the library, and he couldn't quite say that he agreed with the headmaster's assessment. But, in the spirit of generosity, he nodded as though he did.
As he turned to go, a trace of something caught Cal's attention. His eyes drifted to a drawer in a nondescript cabinet on the far wall, and his brow furrowed. Reaching out with a touch of the Force immediately sent a whisper of darkness running down his spine, and Cal felt a bead of cold sweat break out on his forehead.
Dumbledore had noticed the change in his demeanor, and his eyes followed the young man's attention. When he realized where Cal's focus had settled, his own gaze sharpened. "Is something the matter, Mr. Kestis?" he asked in a tone more even and vigilant than before.
Cal's frown deepened. "I can…sense something there. It's old, and I think faded, but there's a…trace of malice."
Dumbledore's expression grew thoughtful, and he stood, pausing for a moment before striding over to the cabinet. Producing a ring of keys from somewhere within his robes, the headmaster proceeded to unlock the cabinet and pull out a battered black book. Gingerly carrying it to his desk, he placed it on its surface. "Does this mean anything to you, Mr. Kestis?" he asked, blue eyes fixed on Cal.
Cal took a tentative step forward, studying the item. To all appearances, it was a ragged and torn thing with a gaping hole punched through the center. But in the Force, shadows clung to the small book like spiderwebs drifting in a nonexistent breeze. A whisper of enmity lurked just below the threshold of hearing, as though a ghost of pure hate and spite had once held the book tightly in its clutches.
Cal had known darkness before—had faced it within and without, and this was only a shade compared to some things he had experienced. An armored figure, implacable and unrelenting, stood at the forefront of his thoughts. But this thing held something like that pitch murk. Or it had once.
"…it reminds me of artifacts that my—my teachers used to talk about. Objects that were imbued with fell…magicks might be the best word for it. They were meant to house the spirits of—you could say dark wizards. They were often things like amulets or masks, but…this calls them to mind."
Dumbledore's face was grave. "I see. That does…tally with some theories of my own. Yes. I think that explains a great many things." He reached into his desk and withdrew a silken handkerchief. Swiftly wrapping the damaged book within it, Dumbledore returned the parcel to its resting place, but now after locking the cabinet he tapped it several times with his wand. In the Force, Cal felt the dark presence grow muted until he could barely feel it any longer.
Turning, Dumbledore managed another small smile, though his eyes were pinched in disquiet. "And now I must thank you, Cal Kestis. I believe that provides me with a project of my own to pursue. Hopefully, it too will see some good come of its labor."
Cal could only nod. "Best of luck, sir. And…I know it may not mean much to you, but—may the Force be with you."
XxXxX
Stonehenge felt a great deal like Hogwarts in some ways; here, too, the Force surged in a thrumming rhythm and knotted itself into strange patterns of subtle light, though Cal couldn't say whether it was entirely natural or a result of generations of magical practice on the site. Regardless, as he stepped within the centermost ring of standing stones under the night sky, he immediately knew that this was where he was meant to be.
There was an open space on the grass which invited him, and he knelt down without hesitation. Letting his eyes fall shut, Cal stilled his breathing and began to sink into a deep trance.
In the end, he realized distantly, it was a simple matter. This planet was a reservoir of the Wild Force—a mystery and a source of wonder easily on par with anything he'd seen before. If the magical society here was any indication, the potential for the use of its power was inestimable. Left on its own, it had developed into a whimsical, sprightly sort of place, for the most part. There was darkness waiting in the corners and on the edges, of course, because that was the way of the universe, but on the whole it was a tender type of garden, full of fresh growth and benign vigor.
And that was the key. Because if it somehow became known to the Empire as things stood now, it would become a focal point of domination and subjugation in ways not before seen in the galaxy at large. The shadows would lengthen and consume this little world in an instant as they descended from the stars, and its fall would, in time, send a fresh swell of even deeper darkness out beyond the furthest borders it could have once imagined.
So, Cal was here to ensure that would not happen.
At this nexus of power, he could feel the Veil beyond the edge of the solar system: a doorway into better-known space, its obscuring shroud slowly weakening as the eons crept by. But kneeling above this wellspring of pure Force energy—strange and extraordinary as it was—Cal knew how to mend it, and how to wash away the accumulated stain of ages past.
He didn't need to raise his arms to channel the Wild Force into the sky. He didn't need to see its energies leap into the aether, setting off a cascade of auroras seen for miles around.
Cal only had to breathe, holding his wand loosely in one hand. And serving as this passive conduit, he felt the Wild Force flowing into and through him to a point far, far away, illuminating the cosmos above.
It might have been minutes or hours later, but at some point Cal realized—in a last kernel of intuition—that his task had been completed. The Veil was hale and whole again, its strength replenished by the energies of this astounding little planet.
Standing, Cal brushed away loose grass from his knees before looking up into the sky. Overhead, the stars twinkled brightly, shining down with unsullied light.
His commlink flashed and Cal accepted the call with a peaceful smile on his face.
"We felt that from here," Cere said, her voice coming through clearly. "I take it that was you?"
"More or less," Cal said, still staring up into the night. "Not really sure which, yet, but yeah."
"I think you have much to tell us, Cal Kestis," said Merrin. "Are you coming back soon?"
Cal considered this question before nodding to himself. "Yeah. I'll be there shortly. I think we're done here."
He let his senses drift with the Force, breezing once more over the land on its wings. In the distance, he could perceive beacons of light—a street, a castle, and more—but as he touched on them, he found himself in the embrace of another gentle tug.
A pull towards the heavens.
"It's time to head home," Cal said with certainty.
The wand in his hand shone faintly with a light akin to the auroras above, and it seemed fitting to the young Jedi that it would pass through them on their way to the stars beyond.
