I own neither Harry Potter nor Star Wars. I promise to do nothing with other people's characters they haven't had them do themselves. Of course, for Star Wars, that means I could have the good, kind, compassionate Jedi leave Anakin's mother in slavery instead of just freeing her. What's that Watto, mind tricks don't work on you? I wonder if a lightsaber would? Oh, I can have both of them? You're so kind.

After a lot of explaining, Harry was finally able to appease Hermione with a hug and a promise to never jump off of a school tower again without an excellent reason, or at the very least, a parachute. He then participated in a post-duel discussion where Master Amani and Master Kendet went over with Harry both the areas where he excelled as well as opportunities for improvement.

"You managed to surprise me twice, Potter," Master Amani growled. "That's not an easy thing to do even once. I hope that doesn't mean you're going to start getting complacent on me."

"No, Master Amani," replied Harry. "I will do all that I can achieve my goals."

"That was an interesting tactic, using that magic of yours," Master Amani continued. "It seemed a bit clumsy, though. There was plenty of time for me to move out of the water before you froze it, or before the water reached my feet. We're going to add using magic to your drills. I want to get your speed up and your motions fluid."

"I understand," Harry said.

"I'm not trying to take away from what you accomplished here today," Amani said. "You beat me fair."

"Thank you, Master," said Harry. "I know that there is always room for improvement, and I would like to increase the speed in which I can cast during a duel. I'd also like to see if I can find a way to cast with either hand. It was very awkward to have to change my lightsaber to my non-dominant hand in the middle of a duel. I only tried it because you were about to win anyway, I figured I had nothing to lose."

"Let that be a lesson to the both of us, then," Amani said. "Never underestimate those who have nothing to lose. If they have nothing to lose, they have no reason to hold anything back."

Amani was very pleased with Harry Potter. Some students took offence when they were given suggestions after a victory, but Potter had always understood the reason behind it. Toma Kendet was also pleased with his Padawan.

"You are going to receive a great deal of praise from those who only appreciate what you did because it looks impressive," said Master Kendet. "Be cautious that you do not escalate your responses to events to make your actions look better to please or impress them. Only use those actions that help you with your goals."

"Yes, Master," Harry acknowledged.

"You did very well today, my Padawan," praised Toma. "I don't think I could have done it better myself."

"Thank you, Master Kendet," said Harry, smiling. "I couldn't have done any of it without your training."

"You had best go with Professor Flitwick now, Harry," Toma said. "He is waiting." Harry bowed to both of the Jedi Masters and started to navigate the sea of students between him and the main doors. Toma smiled at his Padawan's attempt to deflect praise from himself. While there was nothing wrong with taking a modest amount of pride in your accomplishments, excessive pride should be avoided.

Finally extracting himself from another horde of congratulatory Gryffindors, Harry returned to the castle with Professor Flitwick to repair the glass of the clock face. The rest of the school moved off to the quidditch pitch to watch the game. Ron had, of course, protested when he discovered that Harry would not be able to attend the first game.

"How did you alter the direction of your fall, Mr Potter?" Professor Flitwick asked. He was most interested in that, as it wasn't generally considered possible to use a levitation charm on yourself, not having anything to 'push' against. Harry explained that he had used the Force to push in the direction he wanted to go.

"It's much the same as a force enhanced jump," Harry said, "except it was just more of a sustained thrust instead of a burst of energy. I had never tried it before, but it worked pretty well."

"You tried this for the first time after jumping through a window?" Flitwick asked, shocked at this revelation. "The fall could have killed you! What would you have done if it hadn't worked?"

"Landed in a different spot," answered Harry. With a start, he suddenly understood why people seemed so upset about his jumping. "Oh! What I meant was that it was the first time I've tried changing my lateral speed to alter my destination. I've done free jumps over three times as high as the clock tower before, using the Force to slow down before impact."

"Ahh.." said Flitwick, now understanding. "I see. So there was no real danger, then?"

"Not much," said Harry. "I mean, it's a pretty rigorous physical activity, so there's always some risk of injury. I don't think there was any risk of anything Madam Pomfrey couldn't handle in a moment. Certainly, it's no more dangerous than hanging onto a broomstick and flying around dodging guided cannonballs."

"Very well, then," Flitwick said, taking the point that a potentially much more dangerous activity was currently being cheered on at the quidditch pitch.

They were standing at the bottom of the main stairwell.

"I wonder," said Flitwick, thoughtfully, "Do you think you could try to do the same thing here, but try to 'thrust' up instead of to the side?" Flitwick suggested.

"What," asked Harry, "you mean just... fly up there?"

"Well," said Professor Flitwick, "Yes."

Harry looked up, then put his hands out to either side of him and tried a nice, sustained push with the Force. It took some time and experimentation, but he slowly rose into the air. He was only about twenty feet up when he started to run into a problem. The Sustained Force Thrust, as he decided to call it, took a lot more effort than a single push would cost him. He had hardly used magic at all today, but he had used the Force extensively all morning. It was more than he was used to, and he managed to shift over to land on the second-floor stairs before he completely ran out of energy. Harry decided that he was going to ask Toma if they could work on endurance drills. Considering the excellent idea Professor Flitwick had just given him, they could be very useful.

Harry thought he might be onto something new here, and he wanted to research it a bit himself before telling Master Toma, Master Amani, or Master Yoda about it, yet. It wasn't that he didn't trust the elder Jedi to give him credit, but the thought of being expert in something he could teach the Jedi Masters had a lot of appeal to it. Additionally, he didn't want to go to Master Toma claiming he had discovered some new aspect of the Force only to be told he had just now realised something so fundamental that all Jedi knew it, and they had just assumed he knew it too. Neither Master Toma nor Master Amani had mentioned it during the debriefing after the duel, but they also may not have noticed it. He didn't know how much of the beginning of the duel Toma saw, nor at what point Master Amani looked up. He was perfectly aware that this fear was irrational, but since when did that stop the secretly insecure from being afraid?

Flitwick was most apologetic for asking him to experiment when he was clearly worn out.

"I am sorry, Mr Potter," he said as he hurried up the stairs to where Harry landed. "I should have realised that you were probably getting tired due to your activities this morning. Perhaps we can try some other time. If you need to catch a quick nap, I can show you the glass repair spell tomorrow," the Charms professor suggested.

"I'll be fine using magic," Harry protested, "it's just using the Force I need to rest at a bit. Though if this doesn't take too long, I might accept that offer until everyone gets back from the Quidditch game."

"Splendid," said Flitwick. "It'll just take a moment, let us go on up."

They climbed the steps to the seventh floor, and Professor Flitwick showed Harry the proper wand movement and incantation. It took Harry a few tries to get it right, but Flitwick was pleased with the result. As promised, Professor Flitwick cut Harry's detention short so Harry could catch a nap. Yawning, Flitwick decided a nice, Saturday nap sounded like it would hit the spot for him as well, and went to his quarters to partake in it.

Weeks had passed, and the Christmas holidays were fast approaching. Draco Malfoy was looking forward to them. He was not enjoying his first year at Hogwarts nearly as much as he should have been. It wasn't going the way it was supposed to go at all. He had planned his grand entrance to the school since before he could even remember. He was supposed to be the Prince of Slytherin. He had even ordered stationary with that header! Father wouldn't let him bring it to school, of course. When he had found the packets of parchment, the elder Malfoy had just said that snakes only emerge to strike, and must otherwise remain hidden. In other words, flaunting is fine, but only after you've earned it.

It just wasn't fair how the teachers favoured Precious Potter and his Mudblood girlfriend. Even Longbottom got preferential treatment! All three of the Gryffindors had outscored Draco on their interim tests. All three of them had even beaten him in potions, the class where he should genuinely have the advantage. The Professor who taught the lessons was Draco's head of house. If that wasn't enough, Draco's family was close, personal friends with the man, for Merlin's sake! Surely he could get a leg up in potions! His family friend wasn't acting very friendly, though. Or, more accurately, he was acting far too friendly, just to the wrong people. He was acting as if he cared for all of his students, instead of just the ones who mattered. It wasn't natural.

It had all come to a head one morning in Potions class. Draco caught that know-it-all Granger helping Longbottom and tried to put a stop to it. At first, he tried telling on them. He smugly told Professor Snape that the Gryffindors were cheating, and explained how Granger was correcting Longbottom's work. Anger and betrayal flashed through him when Snape gave the Gryffindor girl points for teamwork!

After that, all bets were off. All gloves were off, too. When Professor Snape's back was turned, Draco had surreptitiously dropped some porcupine quills into Longbottom's cauldron. The subsequent explosion of nearly completed Wideye potion that doused half the class and sprinkled the rest caused bouts of insomnia for several nights before finally wearing off. That was when Draco had learned the most valuable lesson he had yet been taught: Witches hold grudges that surpass house loyalty.

Daphne Greengrass, who was completely covered in the wakefulness potion, had seen him put the quills into Longbottom's cauldron. She also told Professor Snape. She very nearly declared a blood feud when she discovered the potion had ruined her diary and her transfiguration homework. Daphne, who was sitting at the station next to Longbottom and Granger, had placed her bag in between their tables. Rivers of the potion had cascaded into her bag, soaking everything. Professor Snape had calmed the vindictive witch down, at least, but he had also given Draco detention.

Severus Snape was in desperate need of a headache solution. During the detention that he had given Draco as a punishment, the Potions Professor was trying to be as patient as he could towards the young Slytherin. His patience was being tested, however, as he found that he had been changed far more than he had expected to be. Teaching changes lives, after all, and you cannot change lives without being changed yourself. This was the ultimate trap Dumbledore had set for him and then placed in the only path Severus had available to him.

Unfortunately, jumping out of a window was not a viable option in this instance. Otherwise, he might be tempted to "pull a Potter," as the school slang now went. Certain events had a way of slipping into the consciousness of the collective mind of the students, and Potters Flight, as it had become known, had quickly been cemented into the status of a school legend. Hence the following statement: "This class is so boring that if it doesn't liven up soon, I'm going to pull a Potter." The alliteration alone ensured this would be a phrase that would endure for millennia.

The new teaching style that Snape had been forced to perform was surprisingly surpassing tolerable and was even approaching enjoyable. He found that he liked teaching, which he never had before. It was honestly surprising to him to see that those who were once lamentable at a task managed to get better at it with practice, encouragement, and positive feedback. He knew that the drastic change was going to eventually have to be explained once his fellow Death Eaters found a good time to contact him. He was anticipating a busy Christmas holiday of making excuses and trying to convince them of the need for him to stay under the radar.

His patience with young Draco could only last for so long, though. He was not so unchanged that he would accept snarky comments from any student for long, even from a Slytherin.

"What happened to you, anyway?" Draco asked angrily. "You used to be so much fun in class. Now you're giving me detention because I put those beneath me in their proper place!"

Professor Snape turned and stared at Draco, his eyes almost burning with rage. Draco obliviously continued to dig the hole he was rapidly trapping himself in.

"It's almost as if you liked that Mudblood girl more than me!" he accused.

Mount Snape erupted. He made no noise, but the temperature in the dungeon classroom seemed to chill by twenty degrees. He moved smoothly and silently towards Draco, his robes billowing behind him. His black eyes glared at the young boy as though the very existence of the youngest Malfoy was abhorrent to the Professor. Draco wisely shut his mouth and backed away from the approaching Professor.

"Do you think I enjoy being civil to those buffoons?" Snape hissed. "Do you think I take pleasure in wasting my time teaching my art to dogs who can barely comprehend the gift I'm being forced to give them?"

Draco retreated till his back was against the dungeon wall as Snape advanced on him. Snape suddenly found an outlet. A way to deflect the blame of the 'New' potions classes from him onto someone else.

"This is your fault, and you dare ask what happened to me?" Snape accused, his face twisted with fury. "None of this would have happened if you could have only shown the tiniest fraction of cunning, even a modicum of subtlety!"

"What do you mean my fault?" squeaked Draco.

"You lured Potter and his little friends to the forbidden corridor after curfew!" Snape spat. "Your lies may have fooled that soft-headed Longbottom, but they were painfully obvious when examined with even the least critical eye, and you left all of the evidence pointing straight back at yourself! If you had even the slightest traits of a true Slytherin, you could have achieved your goals and would never have been caught!"

"How was I supposed to do that?" Draco asked, his voice back into whine mode. "They'll always take Precious Potter's word over mine."

"Make your lie the truth!" thundered Snape. "You claimed the corridor was flooded when it was not. Anyone checking up on your initial claim would know that you lied!"

"So, what do you have had me do, actually flood it?" asked Draco, his tone indicating that he felt this was unreasonable.

"Yes!" confirmed Snape. "If you had only followed through, everyone would have believed that Peeves had performed the deed. Why not? He floods at least five corridors a year, why not this one, too? He always denies it, so no one would believe him if he protested. It probably still wouldn't have gotten Potter in trouble, as there would have been a valid reason for him to take the detour. At the very least, though, you would have put a firewall between yourself and your lie!"

"But what does any of that have to do with how you've been acting in class?" asked Draco.

"Your clumsy attempts to get Potter in trouble is what sparked the investigation that put me within a hair of being tossed out of this castle!" Snape accused, his voice thick with contempt. "If I were you, I would be hoping that your father has no reason to suspect that you put these events into motion. If the Dark Lord finds out that you have jeopardised his sole source of information on Dumbledore…"

Snape left the rest of that thought to Draco's imagination. With pleasure, Snape saw the realisation dawn in Draco's eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Draco. He was now all business. Draco had been taught all of his life that the Dark Lord would return one day. He had been told bedtime stories about the rewards You-Know-Who lavished on his faithful followers. He had also been told tales of horror about what happened to those followers who failed him. Draco would do anything to prevent You-Know-Who from finding out that he had caused the Dark Lord's plans to go awry.

"I highly suggest you leave Potter and his friends alone," Snape said, calming. "Do your work, do it well. Bide your time. Mind your business. Thanks to your fumbling, I must now do the same. It will take time, but we have the time to do this most important of tasks properly. Now go, and do not speak of this to anyone!"

Draco gratefully hurried out of the classroom and ran back to his dormitory.

"Harry?" asked Hermione during breakfast one morning in late December. It was only two days before Hermione and most of the other students left on holiday. "Do you have any plans for Christmas break?"

"No," Harry answered. "I'm sure I'll stay in the castle though since Master Toma has quarters here now."

Toma and the two other Jedi that had arrived to tutor Harry had taken up residence in an otherwise unused wing of the castle. No students other than Harry yet were allowed access to it, so Harry's classmates called it 'The Jedi Compound.' Harry had researched the traditions of his homeworld before he'd arrived, so he was well aware of what Christmas was. He had already ordered Christmas presents for Hermione and Neville, which were wrapped and waiting in his trunk.

"I've been writing my parents and may have mentioned you a time or two," said Hermione, blushing slightly.

The reality of that statement was that Hermione had told the entire story of the Boy-Who-Lived to her parents the night she purchased her books. She had read to them all about the death of his parents at such a young age, his mysterious disappearance, the subsequent search, and the confidence that existed regardless of the lack of clues that Harry was still alive. Her first letter home was mostly about his odd arrival. Harry featured prominently in all of her letters home since she arrived at school, and her parents were understandably curious about this boy who had secured such a hold on their daughter.

"They asked me to invite you to our house for the holidays if you wanted. They know it's a bit late in asking, but when I told them you'd never been able to celebrate Christmas before. I'm afraid they're determined to give you the entire experience if you willing."

"Thanks Hermione!" Harry said, excited. "That sounds fantastic! I'll ask Master Toma, but I don't think it will be a problem."

"I just found out I'll be staying here," said Ron, who was sitting near them. He seemed very sad about that. "My parents decided to visit my brother Charlie in Romania, so we have to stay here."

It had been a challenging year for Ron Weasley. He had always felt overshadowed by his highly successful brothers, and his performance this year seemed to justify that feeling. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were all in the top of their class, and Ron was near the bottom of the year. If it weren't for the fact that no one was quite sure if Crabbe or Goyle could even read at all, he would be at the bottom.

McGonagall had sent a letter to his parents with his interim grades, and Ron had gotten a howler back! Ron's cheeks still burned red at the humiliation. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was failing, now everyone in Scotland knew about it, too. McGonagall had even apologised to him the day he got it. He got the impression that McGonagall didn't like his Mum, much.

"I'm sorry to hear you'll be away from your parents, Ron," said Harry.

"It's ok," Ron said. "My brothers will be here with me. The twins are always good for a laugh. It could be fun."

"You could use at least some of the time to study," Hermione suggested. She was trying to be careful not to sound bossy, but Hermione had always wanted to help those that she felt needed it most.

"I don't even know where to start," grumbled Ron.

"I'll tell you what," suggested Hermione, "We've no classes after lunch today. Why don't you meet me in the library, and I'll help you come up with a study schedule."

Ron looked down. He didn't want to admit it, but he could never really understand Hermione's study schedules. They were all colour coded and indexed, and they were paced too fast. He had never had any trouble reading but suffered a significant problem when it came to writing. His handwriting was so bad that even he couldn't read it sometimes. Hermione seemed to read the anxiety in his face.

"A simple study schedule," she amended. "We'll find out where you are, and how to get you to where you need to be."

"Ok," said Ron. "It can't get worse than it is."

The first thing Hermione tried to tackle was Ron's handwriting.

"You want me to use a what?" he asked.

"A pen. I think it would help you out a lot," Hermione explained. "I'll even talk to Professor McGonagall for you if you like. I'm sure she'll allow it, especially when she sees the improvement I think it will have on your handwriting."

"Ok," said Ron. "I'll give it a try."

He spent a good half hour writing some lines with a quill, a calligraphy pen, a fountain pen, and a ballpoint pen. Hermione took the parchment to use as evidence when she presented her case to Professor McGonagall.

Watching Ron write the lines had given her an idea as to the underlying problem. She began to suspect that Ron had learning disabilities. To prove this, however, she first had to get Ron to open up to her. This was more difficult than she thought it would be. Ron did not like to talk about his own problems. Once Hermione had a goal, though, not even Hagrid would be able to divert her from her path. Ron didn't stand a chance. At her insistence, Ron described what classes were like from his perspective. She asked a lot of questions, took a lot of notes, and started coming up with a plan. She just needed to get it approved.

"You want me to let Ronald Weasley use a dictation quill in class?" Professor McGonagall asked. Her brow was furrowed in confusion. "Miss Granger, I know that you are aware that charmed quills are forbidden in the classroom, and I will not stand for cheating."

"I beg your pardon, Professor," explained Hermione, "but they're not forbidden in the classroom. I looked it up. Charmed quills are only forbidden for exams. He wouldn't be using the dictation quill for tests, only to take notes in class. Ron has a great deal of trouble writing."

"Ms Granger, I normally would not discuss a student's performance with one of his classmates," said McGonagall, "but since you've presented yourself as his advocate and given me this signed note from him giving his permission, I will make an exception. Many students have trouble getting used to quills when they first arrive at Hogwarts, but with practice they always get better at it. What I see in Mr Weasley is not an inability to learn. It is a total lack of effort."

"Yes, Professor," argued Hermione. "That is what you see now. It's the end effect of months of trying and failing, over and over and over again. If you please, I've prepared some visual aids to help me demonstrate my point."

"Very well," McGonagall said. She was somewhat shocked at the professional-looking presentation this first year was setting up.

"Thank you, Professor," began Hermione. "I believe Ron has Dysgraphia.* It's a learning disability that affects a person's ability to communicate in writing effectively."

"I think I've heard of that," said McGonagall. "Isn't that what some muggles get where they mix up letters in their heads?"

"No," corrected Hermione. "That's Dyslexia, but it is related to what I think Ron has. Dysgraphia* is a learning disability that greatly affects a person's ability to write. I was helping Ron come up with a study plan, and I got him to describe what going to school is like for him. As he described it, I found myself remembering a classmate I had named Daniel, who was in Year 5* with me back in my Muggle school. Daniel had an extremely hard time paying attention in class. Any time he tried to take notes, he had to concentrate so hard on the act of writing the note that he missed what the teacher was saying next. By the time he had finished writing, the teacher was so far ahead that Daniel ended up hopelessly lost. He'd end up so frustrated that he'd just spend the class daydreaming."

"That does sound an awful lot like Mr Weasley," McGonagall interjected.

"Yes, that's what I thought," agreed Hermione. "Assuming I'm correct, and please remember that I'm not a doctor, I believe that Ron currently has a choice to make in each class that he takes. He can either take no notes, which would help him in paying attention to the lecture, at least, but wouldn't help him study. Also, unless they were fully informed, Ron would likely get in trouble for not taking notes, which many of you might take as not paying attention. His other choice is to take notes but miss the lecture. It's a trap, and since he's trying to take notes, he doesn't hear the lecture, and since he doesn't hear the lecture, the notes he takes makes no sense to him at all."

"I see," said Professor McGonagall. She was beginning to understand that, at least in Ronald's case, the usual approach she took to teaching was not going to work.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "I remember that the teachers tried several methods of dealing with his difficulties. At first, they asked me to make copies of my notes and let him use them. That was working well, but then I caught the flu and missed several days of classes, and they had to find another solution in case I wasn't available. One day, Daniel came into class with a doctor's note and a tape recorder."

"What is a tape recorder?" asked McGonagall.

"It's a muggle device," explained Hermione. "When you turn it on, it will record all of the audio within the range of its microphone. It allowed Daniel to have audio notes of the entire lecture part of the class without having to write notes." She pointed out a section of her presentation, where she had tried an experiment. "Here, I told Ron a short story and had him take notes about it while I told it. I then quizzed him on the content of the story. Ron missed many details about the story and filled in a lot of the gaps with his imagination. While this is creative, it certainly won't help him in class." She pointed to the next section on her parchment. "Here, I simply had Ron listen to the story without taking notes. The quiz he took then was much more successful."

"Ron did better without notes?" McGonagall asked, her voice betraying some scepticism.

"For a rather short story, yes," said Hermione. "For a classroom environment, taking no notes isn't a good option. He needs notes."

"And since he can't take them," McGonagall concluded, "you want me to allow him the use of a quick quotes quill?"

"I've heard of those, I think," said Hermione. "Some reporters use them, don't they? I'm sure there's a better version of them out there that only writes what's actually spoken without trying to put in a bunch of fancy language to make the story better. If there isn't, I'm fairly sure that at the very least one of my professors is more than clever enough to charm a quill to do the job." Hermione smiled sweetly at her head of house, and McGonagall gave her a look. She then softened that look as she considered the request.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, "you have laid out a very well thought argument, and given me a great deal to think about. I agree that Mr Weasley needs help that he has not been getting thus far. I will discuss this with Headmaster Dumbledore, and interview Mr Weasley myself. I am very impressed with the interest you have shown in helping your fellow classmates, Miss Granger. Take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor." Hermione beamed. She always loved earning points.

"I do have one final request, Professor," the Gryffindor girl said.

"And what is that?" asked McGonagall.

"How do you feel about pens?" Hermione asked.

The morning Harry was to leave with Hermione, he had a meeting with the Jedi to say goodbye.

"Represent the Jedi on this world, you will," said Master Yoda. "Remember your training. Save you, it can."

"Be careful, Potter," added Master Amani. "You'll not just be able to whip out your lightsaber on this world, apparently." Master Amani was not impressed when he found out how restrictive the Magical government was to its own people. "Use caution, avoid trouble, and if you do get into a tight spot, make sure anything you do outside of the castle doesn't violate these ridiculous secrecy laws."

"I have faith in you, my Padawan," Toma said, "to always do what you know is right. The only thing I will ask is for you to also make sure that Hermione thinks it is right as well before you take any action. If you need anything, you have your communicator and Hedwig. Enjoy yourself, and be careful."

"Yes, Master," Harry said.

He and Hermione left the castle to spend Harry's first Christmas together.

*Dysgraphia is a real learning disability, and the behaviours and symptoms I describe in this chapter are a good representation of how I felt when dealing with this in grade school. Of course, that was back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and IEP's were only considered suggestions.

**Year 5 in the U.K. is the equivalent of 4th Grade in the U.S.