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Chapter Eight

The Holocron of Darth Zeemar

Master Coven closed her eyes as she felt more than heard a scream of agony rip through the Force. 'Poor Sorin…' she mourned mentally, feeling the disturbance flow over the temple around her. Those who knew the usually well-constrained Knight would feel the moment of his death, and they would hold a short ceremony later in the evening to commemorate the life of the valiant Jedi.

But the question was still how the youthful Jedi Knight had met his fate. And an even worse thought, why. Difficult questions to answer indeed, and the Grand Master of the Jedi Order decided to retire to the Room of a Thousand Fountains to meditate and try to riddle out the tragedy.

Settling down on a flat rock before a deep pool, Master Coven closed her eyes and opened herself to the Force. Through the swirling reaches of space and time, all things existed, connected to each other with the powers of the Force. Light, and Darkness, neither good nor evil, but simply one embodying power, the other wisdom; the balance of Light and Darkness had been tilted, favoring the Jedi and the servants of the Light for years.

But now…

But now, Master Coven sensed the Dark Side growing once again in the Galaxy, like an undercurrent sliding beneath a wide river, waiting to drag any unsuspecting being down to the depths of its corruption. Attempting to penetrate the Darkness had been done by many Jedi Sages in the past, and many of these were able to discern the methods and actions of the Sith in doing so. But the way was perilous and just as many Jedi had been lost though trying to see through the shroud of the Dark Side. The Jenet Grand Master felt that if there was even a potential threat to the peace hard won for the Republic, even more so if Sorin was right and a Sith Lord was still abroad in the Galaxy, then the risks were more than worth it.

Visions started to appear in the Jedi Grand Master's mind, of darkness and death spreading across the Galaxy. Worlds burned as an armada of ships surged across the stars, slaughtering and enslaving all in their path. And beneath it all, an impending darkness, manifesting into a man, clad in the trademark robes of a Dark Lord of the Sith, eyes burning with hatred and saturated with the Dark Side. Upon his head was a great jagged cut that pulsed with power of another sort, and this man wielded sufficient power to hold the galaxy in the palm of his hand.

Retreating from the darkness before it could consume her in despair; Master Coven opened her eyes to find herself back in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, surrounded by the thunderous sound of waterfalls. Puzzling over the newest bit of guidance from the Force, Master Coven made her way back through the temple, passing students and other masters without acknowledgment. The future was always in motion, her masters had always told her, and if this vision was even possible, then the Jedi Order had to be prepared for the worst. If indeed the Sith were somehow still alive, and responsible for killing Sorin Kress, then they must have been associated with the fallen Jedi Zhar Quelmok. Suddenly all their hopes for the future lay with finding the Dark Jedi and questioning him.

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Far too soon, the Yule holiday period drew to a close, signaling the return to Hogwarts and the tedium of endless days of schoolwork and teenage angst. Veneficus could feel his blood spark in annoyance at the thought of returning, but his plans regarding his 'chosen' students that he had set in motion required it, especially if he was to continue to work unhindered by either Millennial's or Dumbledore's scrutiny.

With only a few days left before needing to board the train back to the castle, the Sith Lord set about collecting some rather specified items for the next term, chief among them were specialized robes, cut to allow freedom of movement, but still closely resembling the style of the Hogwart's uniforms. The ignorant woman who ran Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions outright refused to modify the customary Hogwarts sets, so Veneficus had gone to the other clothing shop in Diagon, Twilfitt and Tattings, and found their staff far more amenable to his desires.

Another important task on the Sith's list was to acquire much larger quantity of potion ingredients and equipment to use at Blackmoore Manor. Despite the tentative neutrality he had with Snape, Veneficus did find the study of Potions to be very interesting, and desired greatly to continue to practice while away from school, especially with potions that he would never be allowed to brew in the dungeon classroom.

At least, aside from his usual pastime at Hogwarts of training and practicing advanced magic, Veneficus would have something to take his mind from the dull monotony of learning at a child's level. As a reward for slaying his first Jedi Knight, Darth Millennial had gifted to Veneficus a Sith Holocron for him to learn from while away from the Sith Master's personal tutelage. Veneficus was told that this Holocron was only recently discovered in the ruins of the Great Temple on Dromund Kaas, and was a recording of one of the greatest members of the previous Sith Empire's Dark Council, Darth Zeemar, and once head of the Sith Sphere of Ancient Knowledge during the time shortly before the Sith Empire crumbled into Lord Kaan's Brotherhood of Darkness.

Veneficus was quite pleased to be allowed such knowledge as this to be his to learn from, and eagerly activated the Holocron at the first opportunity to verify its authenticity. He was not disappointed, as the Sith Gatekeeper flared into existence, shrouded in a black cloak that veiled the Sith Lord's features.

"I am Darth Zeemar, Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge and last of the Dark Councilors."

Zychre, who had been wrapped around Veneficus' arm at the time, slithered down to get a closer look at the Gatekeeper. "The energiesss are ssso warm… why can't the heat from your human bodiesss be like thisss onesss?"

Rolling his eyes at the impertinent snake, Veneficus focused on the waiting Gatekeeper, "Teach me, Lord Zeemar, of the history and powers the Sith Empire had discovered in your time as esteemed head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge."

"No… you are not yet worthy of my secrets, young apprentice." The Gatekeeper replied.

Veneficus was stunned. Not many Sith Holocrons were limiting on what they would or would not teach a student, but regardless, he would follow what the Holocron wanted for now. He would have nothing but time to spare while at Hogwarts.

"What will you teach me to allow me to be worthy then?"

"…The History of the fall of the Sith Empire, and the rise of the heretic, Kaan, and his Brotherhood. You will take these lessons for what they are, warnings of what may befall the Sith if they fall to the Jedi thinking of 'equality.' You will learn of the failings of the Sith, so that the future will only improve."

"Then I will accept your teachings, until they prove no longer useful to me, my Lord." Veneficus replied, slightly irritated. If he needed or wanted to learn about the corrupt Brotherhood, he could just as easily read over Darth Bane's many manuscripts or even access the Sith Lord's Holocron and have him tell how he crushed said Brotherhood himself.

The Holocron Gatekeeper laughed at the apprentice's words, "you are learning already then I see. For your adherence to the true Sith way, you shall find these to be simple and quick lessons, paving the way for you to understand the matchless power of the Dark Side…"

How long he listened to the Holocron and answered its questions, Veneficus wasn't completely sure, but he eventually called for an end to the lessons for that day, and shut off the ancient device, stowing it away in a secure part of his seven-layered trunk. Just as he finished locking it up, an owl swooped in through the open window of his room, and Veneficus turned to see a package tied to the bird's leg.

Relieving the burden from the owl, which departed immediately after its delivery was completed, Veneficus noted how light the package was. It was also easily bent, like the contents were some sort of cloth. Paranoia sweeping in at the lack of a note of whom the sender was, a very good reaction for any Sith, Veneficus swept the parcel with the Force, only opening it when he felt no threat from the contents what so ever.

As the last part of the wrappings fell away, something fluid-like and silvery grey slid into the Sith's hands. It was tailored like a cloak, but the fabric was something that Veneficus could not place. It felt like water in his hands, but made solid. Walking over to a standup mirror that before had served little purpose in the room, the Sith apprentice threw the cloak around himself, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise as his body vanished from view. Spying a note that had been in the wrappings, Veneficus crossed back to the bed and read it.

'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.'

A knowing smile spread across the Sith Lord's face. He recognized that handwriting from his Hogwart's letter, meaning that if his guess was right, the hand that wrote it belonged to Albus Dumbledore. If said wizard was sending him such a priceless and useful gift, then the old fool was dimmer than the Sith gave him credit for. This cloak would render the need to conceal himself with the Force nearly unnecessary. He would only need to worry about being tracked by scent or Force presence, and he knew that there must be techniques in existence that nullified those weaknesses; he had seen the Jedi employing them during their duel, and only that could explain him approaching so close without being detected. Veneficus vowed to master the ability, so that combined he could move more stealthily than the Sith Assassins of old.

In addition, this cloak made much of Veneficus' plan to steal Flamel's stone much simpler to achieve. Roaming the halls undetected was definitely an advantage over his previous idea of putting his stealth training to the test, but still… he had to be careful. Surely Dumbledore would know that giving Veneficus this tool would encourage him to go about wherever he pleased at any hour of any day, therefore he must have had some means of locating him if needed, or the old man simply did not care, but Veneficus knew better than that.

He would consult with his master about this development, before committing to any action, without of course mentioning any part of his plan or the stone whatsoever.

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Albus always enjoyed the Christmas holidays, and this year had been no exception. Apart from the wonderful meal that the staff and any students that remained at the castle of the break had together, all seated at one small table instead of the usual house tables, and the presents from his many friends and admirers, Albus was able to, this year, finally return the one present that he had been holding for almost ten years to its owner. At last, James Potter's invisibility cloak was back in the Potter family, and despite the potential for mayhem that the boy could cause, Albus did not in the slightest regret giving the boy one of the few remaining relics of his lost parents to him.

Sadly, as the boy had gone to his still very mysterious home for the break, Albus had not had the opportunity to test the Mirror of Erised, but he still felt very certain that it would protect the Sorcerer's Stone from anyone who desired to use it for evil ends. Instead of letting it sit in an unused classroom for a time, Albus had moved the enchanted mirror directly to the end of the gauntlet on the third floor, and sealed the Stone inside, with the condition that it could only be removed by someone who wanted it, but not to use it.

With that important task completed before the students returned for the second term, and thus increasing the likelihood of someone coming across the mirror, Albus was able to start plans for the future, namely the next summer. He had made arrangements with Molly Weasley, in attempts to get her youngest son and daughter, both of whom had had large fantasies of a young Harry Potter as children, to become acquainted with the Potter heir. Part of that had failed, as the enchantment that Molly and he had agreed to place on her youngest boy had proved not sufficient to make the two boys become friends, and had later on failed entirely, causing the boys to diverge further apart.

Molly still hoped that her daughter Giverna would be able to meet and grow close to the boy, and Albus figured it was still worth another attempt. If any of the Weasleys could make a good enough impression on the boy, it would bode very well for Albus to be able to predict how best to use the boy's strengths to combat Voldemort when the Dark Wizard returned.

That friendship, combined with whatever happened when Harry chose to fully investigate the Stone, would show Albus what exactly the boy was capable of, and how much 'hands on' guidance was needed to nudge the boy in the proper direction. The troll had been a good sign, but there was still Harry's overall demeanor when it came to his fellow students. From what the other Professors had mentioned, Harry was very bright, quickly grasping everything they threw at him, and therefore was easily bored with what was taught in his classes. Adding to that his distrust of most people, he seemed to look down on his peers, and while he didn't actively terrorize them, he was just standoffish and cold enough to dissuade most from trying to befriend him.

While problematic right now, Albus didn't see this phase of solitude lasting for seven years, and he rested assured that eventually Harry would change his mind, and seek out friends outside of the Slytherin group. Probably starting with Ravenclaw Hermione Granger as a start he guessed, but Albus knew that the true Gryffindor that resided inside the boy wouldn't remain a secret for long.

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Severus mentally sighed as the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins filed in for the first class of the new term. It had become a growing dread for the Potion's Master, having to put up with a Slytherin Potter who had seemed to wrap his entire house around his finger, just as the brat's father had done with Gryffindor. And just like James Potter had done with Slytherin, the boy had dug a lasting grudge with the house of Gryffindor, and yet had still done little to nothing as far as Severus knew.

The boy was just odd, even with all the parallels with his father, and Severus personally was irritated the most by the fact that he couldn't make heads or tails of him. Adding to the fact that he had seemingly lost his earliest memories of the boy and his guardian, which caused both he and Albus great distress, he chose to simply keep a long distance from the boy, maintaining a casual observation as per the Headmaster's wishes. Severus knew exactly why Albus wanted this, and the lengths the old codger would go to maintain some sort of control over his little Boy-Who-Lived-to-Drive-Severus-Insane.

Thankfully, the boy was very quiet, clearly a model student, if not somewhat bored with the subject matter. Severus saw a mile away that this Potter had inherited his mother's brain, even if it was tainted with his father's social skills. Maybe, if Severus deemed the boy no real threat in the near future, he would start to push the boy in his classes, give him a real challenge to test the potential lurking behind Lily's eyes.

Currently, Potter was working with Draco, and the two had been quite inseparable from the beginning of the year, and their Forgetfulness potion was by far the best in the class. Severus always felt it wise to set the class the very potion that would be their final exam in the middle of the school year, and see how many figured out the pattern. It helped him to prune the dunderheads from the pack early on, and he would start formulating his N.E.W.T classes early on, slowly nudging the students he felt could succeed in the right direction while letting the others struggle. While somewhat loath to admit it, Potter would definitely be one of the best choices for Severus' advanced Potion's class.

Lost in his thoughts, Severus stalked around the room in his normal fashion, and in doing so; saw a potential threat to his class's future safety early on. The youngest Weasley boy was glaring at the Slytherins instead of his rapidly thickening potion, particularly at Potter. Obviously his childhood hero was turning out to be different that he expected, and Severus knew at that moment that the boy would attempt something the moment the bell rang.

As the class departed for dinner and the rest of their free evening, Severus made a beeline for his private stores, and in particular the secret door to the hallway closer to the stairs to the entrance hall. He arrived and swept into a shadowed corner just as the class passed by, Slytherins in the lead, Gryffindors behind.

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Anguis felt his meager Force abilities ring out warnings of danger moments before a resounding bang filled the crowded dungeon corridor. All the Slytherins ducked as a jet of light sailed right for Veneficus. The Sith Lord had clearly felt it coming, and twisted perfectly out of the way, turning slowly to face the angered Weasley, who was still pointing his wand at Anguis' Master.

The surrounding students fled, sensing the oncoming storm as Veneficus gathered the Dark Side around him. Anguis followed them, before doubling back and slipping into a darkened corner to watch, and he was amazed that Weasley was actually holding his ground, albeit his legs were struggling to not shake, "Y-You don't frighten me, P-Potter…" he said shakily, his wand still holding steady. Veneficus simply smirked, before becoming a blur of motion, seizing Weasley by the throat and slamming him against the stone wall of the dungeon, knocking the prat's wand away with a loud clatter. Leaning toward the red haired boy, who was still stubbornly trying to portray vaunted Gryffindor courage, the Sith Lord said calmly in his ear, "You should be…"

Anguis saw his master flick his wrist and the silver cylinder appeared in his hand, his Lightsaber. Pressing the end into Weasley's chin, Anguis widened his eyes. Veneficus was going to murder the boy right there. But before anything could happen, the cold voice of Professor Snape cut them off, catching the three of the off guard "Potter! Weasley! What's going on here...?"

The Saber disappeared in a flash, and Anguish watched as the Sith apprentice faced the Professor, smiling falsely and said, "Nothing Professor, just having a small chat with Mr. Weasley here…"

"I can see that," the Potions Professor said sarcastically, before addressing Weasley "Move along Mr. Weasley, and that curse will cost you ten points from Gryffindor." The red head slumped off, pride injured and still blissfully unaware as to how close he was to death.

Refocusing on Veneficus, Snape continued, "As for you, Mr. Potter… Fired curse or no, your actions were a disgrace to the house of Slytherin, and you will serve a detention with me on Saturday, cleaning cauldrons and rethinking how you should have handled the situation..."

Slowly waving a single hand to the side, Veneficus muttered, just loud enough for Anguis to hear, "I will not serve a detention…" Professor Snape merely looked at him blankly for a moment, before saying in a flat voice, "You will not…" he paused, blinking and seeming to shake his head, "Wait, what did you do to me?!" he demanded, "Never mind, get out of my sight Potter…" and with that the Potions Master stalked away, leaving a silently fuming Veneficus.

The Sith Lord turned, and Anguis' eyes widened when he looked directly at him, motioning him to follow. 'This won't be pleasant…' Anguis thought as they made their way up to the seventh floor, bypassing the full Great Hall and dinner.

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Veneficus fumed silently as he and Anguis arrived at the hidden room on the seventh floor. Blast Snape and his overbearing willpower. Millennial had made it seem so easy to dominate the man's will and send him away. But the irritating Potions Master had indeed powerful mental defenses, and Veneficus' pitiful attempt barely grazed him. And what was worse now he had to put up with the man for an extended period of time when he'd much rather be doing anything else.

Needless to say that Veneficus wasn't feeling in a particularly merciful mood for this session of his apprentice's training. The room opened up to several large stone blocks resting in two rows, and the Sith led his confused and wary acolyte in. Veneficus had decided that his Master had had the best methods of teaching that he knew of at the moment, and until he had his true apprentice, he could practice on training Anguis while working on his own skills.

"It's time for you to develop a deep, intimate connection with the Force," Veneficus said, raising both hands and demonstrating what he wanted his follower to accomplish, lifting the six blocks of stone high into the air simultaneously. The blond haired boy gaped; open mouthed at what he was being commanded to do. "Y-You want me to lift all those? They must be several tons each!"

A single glare from the Sith silenced the boy, and he swallowed hesitantly, nodding and moving to stand where Veneficus had. Gathering Force around him, Anguis strained to lift the pillars. Veneficus knew he wouldn't be able to do it perfectly, but he was impressed that Anguis at least managed to shake each of the six and lift two slightly off the ground before the lot fell back into place and Anguis collapsed in exhaustion. "I can't… I can't do it Master…"

"Weakling…" Veneficus said coldly, before raising a hand to send a blast of Force lightning as punishment. The screams were slightly relieving to the stress that Veneficus felt about Weasley and Snape, but not enough to fully appease him. "Do it again!" the Sith Lord commanded, relishing the building anger in his apprentice. The boy did not realize yet, thinking that Veneficus was torturing him solely for sadistic pleasure, missing the key clue that he was being provided.

"Feel its power within you… concentrate, and lift the stones!" Veneficus demanded. Anguis tired again, with little success, the boy was simply too tired. "What you ask is impossible…" he replied angrily.

"Impossible?" Veneficus said, smirking, "this task is impossible only because you deem it so…" walking around to face the weakened boy, Veneficus smiled as he provided his clue of a blast of lightning again, "you must connect with your hatred!"

The boy's rage continued to mount, and Veneficus smiled as he walked a small circle around his apprentice, "Focus on your power building, think of nothing or no one else…" another volley of lightning, and the boy's anger was reaching a breaking point "That's it; your anger is your strength…"

"I hate you…" they boy said, still convulsing from the recent barrage of blue energy.

"Good…" Veneficus replied, before resuming the flow of lightning, not stopping as the child writhed on the ground. Anguis finally screamed in fury, rose to his feet and, throwing his arms to the ceiling, slammed all six pillars into the ceiling with force enough to imbed them into the stone. Veneficus smirked at the power of his apprentice, stopping to voltage of pain and stepping back as the boy raged, his newly forged deep connection to the Dark Side allowing waves of pure power to waft around him.

"Will… will I learn to torment my victims with lightning as well soon, Master?" Anguis asked, and Veneficus was pleased that his apprentice seemed to have grasped the point of the lesson, and was not fixated on the torture.

"In, due time, apprentice…" he replied cryptically, before turning to call forth one of the stone golems in the room, and handed Anguis a Lightsaber hilt that he had found in the manor, one that no one else owned or used. "Eventually you will construct your own lightsaber, but for now you will start learning how to use one with this."

With a look of reverence, Anguis lit the crimson blade and swung it experimentally, before commenting, "It's so light…"

Rather than point out the stupidity of the statement, Veneficus nodded, "Yes, and that's why it's so dangerous a weapon to use. You have just as equal the opportunity to hack off your own limb as your opponents without the proper skill and power in the Force to guide your movements." Anguis simply nodded, continuing to study the Jedi weapon.

Veneficus quickly ran through the basics of Shii-Cho with Anguis, sparred with him briefly with his own trophy saber from the Jedi he had killed, and set him to practicing with the golem, which recognized that it was not to try and kill its opponent and adjusted accordingly.

With his apprentice thus occupied, Veneficus set to relieving the rest of his pent up anger of the day's current events in the form of new Dark Art spells.

His Blackthorn wand practically leapt in his hand at the thought of casting dark magic, and by the end was vibrating with leftover power. Studying the thin piece of enchanted wood, Veneficus smiled as he felt the Dark Side swirl from the magical implement. By forcing his aptitude for the Dark Side through the wand when he was growing accustomed to it, the Sith Lord had created a tiny dark nexus in his wand. Not only would his wand respond to him easier than any other wand to its witch or wizard, but the wand itself would be stronger and last longer, just as Force users lived much longer than those who lacked the power.

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Zhar looked over the temperate and nearly peaceful appearing planet of Dathomir. He was relieved, to be honest, about the appearance of the planet. He had expected dense swamps or vast deserts that he'd have to trek through for miles, but this was nice. Following the route that Dass'in had provided him, Zhar chose to land in a small clearing that was about two or three klicks from the location of the hidden academy.

The Dorian Dark Side Prophet had explained that the world was dangerous, home to many ferocious creatures, but that he should meet little resistance after entering the academy, as all the Sith that had been stationed there died during the seventh battle of Ruusan. Zhar was inclined to think this was true, yet he had learned from the records at the Sith Temple that one Sith Lord had survived that terrible battle, Darth Bane, and reason lead him to believe that others may have survived. Therefore as he approached the cavernous opening that led down to the hidden academy, Zhar kept up his guard, lightsaber in hand.

Venturing into the darkness, Zhar chose to light his saber for illumination rather than use a glowrod, and eyed the many carvings and Sith hieroglyphics that lined the walls of the cave. Having learned a bit of the written language of the Sith from his time as a Jedi, Zhar was able to decipher some of the writings, which told him of the many exploits of key students and masters of the Dathmoiri academy.

A forewarning from the Force drew his attention back to his forward progress. Something or someone strong in the Dark Side was ahead, hiding in the shadows. Zhar closed his eyes, relying on the Force to guide him, stepping into an opening stance of Djem-So and waiting for his adversary to make him, her or itself known. High laughter filled the chamber as whomever it was arrived.

"Young Jedi need to be more careful when wandering the darker places of the Galaxy…" a cool female voice said, chilling Zhar's skin with the darkness in the voice. But he knew better, seeing past the show of power to pinpoint the location of the person. Only, he couldn't exactly feel out where his opponent was. The Dark Side of the Force clouded his view, giving who or whatever awaited him a considerable advantage.

"I do not fear the Darkness…" Zhar said, trying to goad this adversary into revealing herself, and he was rewarded by the high voice tinkling another laugh.

"You should, Jedi… you should…" without warning, and with a tiny puffing sound, Zhar was enveloped in a mist of greenish powder. Choking and half blind, Zhar staggered about, trying to escape the toxic cloud, but failed, falling to the ground in a daze. Blearily, the Dark Jedi saw a female Togruta emerge from the shadows, black and red markings covering her face, before unconsciousness took him.

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Darth Millennial stood, stripped to the waist, in his personal training facility built in the underground compound below Blackmoore Manor. Surrounding him were six high powered military grade blaster turrets, all powering up and set for rapid fire. Just as the devises chimed their readiness, Millennial ignited his crimson lightsaber, the programmed identifier for the turrets to fire. Launching himself into the opening volleys of blaster rounds, Millennial spun and ducked, springing into his perfected form of Soresu.

Amidst the hailstorm of deadly energy, the Sith Master moved both body and blade in perfect harmony, deflecting and dodging with seemingly effortless grace, all the while his powerful mind focusing intently of the future, past and present simultaneously. Few that Millennial had ever encountered could achieve this level of Moving Meditation, sinking so deeply into the Force that they nearly lost their conscious selves to its ebb and flow, resounding from the deepest recesses of the universe.

Sinking thus into the currents of the Force, thoughts and impressions came to Millennial unbidden, revealing the will of the Dark Side. The future stood before him, hinged upon the shoulders of the Sith, and time seemed frozen around his apprentice, Darth Veneficus, as though the boy was a nexus of the Force in and of himself. Considering all that Veneficus had accomplished in his seven short years of learning, Millennial was not as surprised as he should have been.

The boy had a natural lust for knowledge, especially anything of darkness, and talent enough to accomplish anything he set his mind to. Having quickly adapted to his new life as a Sith, the boy Harry Potter had melted away, until Millennial had been left with the raw talents to form and mold as the Force dictated.

Many Sith Lords of the past would have scorned Millennial as a heretic for his views, claiming that Sith needed to strive to dictate the will of the Force themselves, but Millennial clung stubbornly to his philosophy that they Force was sentient enough to overcome any attempts at manipulation by mere mortals. Naturally that did not stop the mutant Sith from poking and prodding fate, making subtle alterations to give himself and the Order of the Sith Lords the much needed edge, but he never presumed to totally control the nature of the Force.

The keen insight his abilities gave him was enough to show Millennial that trying to subject the unfathomable power of the Force was beyond his reach. So he settled for the same fate that the Masters of the Dark Side since Darth Bane had taken, tweaking and altering the future in many small ways to better prepare for the one Sith Lord who would wrench control from the Light, once and for all.

Millennial felt that he had found the one who was destined for that end. Lord Veneficus had the drive, and power, and the sinister mind to achieve the grand design of Darth Bane, striking from the shadows of the Republic's supposed 'Golden Age' and returning the Sith to their rightful place as rulers of the Galaxy. Even if Millennial didn't live to see it happen, he would rest easy in the Force to know that he had been the tipping point for the Galaxy's decent toward darkness.

The subjugation would begin here, on this rudimentary planet. The home world of Darth Veneficus would give him many advantages and powers that the Jedi would have great difficulty managing against, namely these wizards and their 'magic'. Wild and chaotic, the arcane energies complimented Veneficus greatly, and his efforts to delve into the so called 'Dark Arts' would prove to be his ultimate edge in combat. Millennial knew that he would be hard pressed himself to combat his apprentice when the time came, when the boy had grow fully into both his Force potential and his Magical majority.

There was only one thing clinging to Millennial's mind, one threat to the future he envisioned. The rumors of the false Dark Lord, Voldemort, and the magical energies that Millennial sensed from the madman's old followers, the cup they had taken from the vaults of Gringotts, and finally coming from the scar on Veneficus himself. Millennial had tried prior, unsuccessfully, to destroy the cup, blasting it with the power of the Dark Side and attempting to hack it apart with his Lightsaber. The cup had withstood every assault completely, and Millennial knew that this object's destruction was paramount to the protection of the Sith, little though he knew of exactly how or why.

Reaching out with his immensely heightened senses, Millennial felt that there were more of these objects across the country, and the Force whispered to him that collecting them together in one place was required of him. One was very near to him even now, aside from the cup. Visions of a rundown shack appeared in the mutant human's mind, just outside the nearby village of Little Hangleton. He would obey the urgings of the Force, even if they made no clear sense to him.

Perhaps, in being made of magical energies, these repositories of life energy were to be defeated by a magical means. Or else the will of the Force would be revealed to him in time. Millennial decided on patience for the time being, it had served the Sith Order well in the past, and would continue to in the future.

Emerging from his heavy trance, Millennial found himself drenched in sweat, blood pumping furiously through his veins. All six turrets were still firing, the clicks of their depleted energies cells echoing off the walls. Millennial had many small burns, caused by shallow grazes from minuscule dodged bolts, but was otherwise unharmed.

'Well,' Millennial thought as he pressed a button on the wall, opened a hatch and admitting several high class droids, rebuilt and programmed with Lightsaber combat techniques from several different master swordsmen of the Sith. Millennial saluted the droids as their many limbs ignited over a dozen different blades and thought, 'that's that for the warm-up.'

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Hermione was in her element, swept up in the fervor of the oncoming exams. She was currently barricaded in the library, surrounded by every book that contained any possible information they might be tested on, and was midway through her transfigurations notes when a shadow loomed right in the path of her light. She whipped around to tell whomever it was off, but froze when she saw the cold face of Harry Potter.

"Hello Hermione…" he said, taking a seat next to her without asking, and pushing a stack of books to the side to make room on the desk for himself. Hermione frowned, but opted to just politely ignore him while continuing with her studying.

Potter pulled from his bag a rather large and old-looking book that had no title, placing it on the desk in front of him, and opening to a back chapter. Hermione felt the irresistible urge to look over and see what the boy was reading, and struggled desperately to maintain her focus on her work.

"Interesting, isn't it," Potter began, startling Hermione slightly, "How there are hundreds of students here at Hogwarts, but now that the end of the year has come, and all are divided into a select number of groups in relation to the event…"

"Um… What do you mean?" Hermione said, genuinely confused. She was looking at Harry directly now, her notes forgotten. The Slytherin boy was calmly continuing to read his book, and spoke conversationally.

"I mean there are three distinct types of students when exams come. Those students, like you and many of the rest of your house, Ravenclaw, who throw yourselves into your work, striving to succeed until you do so."

Hermione nodded; there was a distinct group of students that were more bookish than others.

"Then," Harry continued, "There are those, like one Ronald Weasley, that choose to try and ignore that the exams are even there, scraping through at the last minute if passing at all…"

Hermione frowned, but could find nothing wrong with the statement.

"And finally," he continued with a small smile, "there are the students so gifted and powerful, that they need not lower themselves to worry about exams, students who have completely surpassed the need to study, students, like myself."

Now Hermione frowned completely, "So you've come to gloat then…"

Potter had the decency to look affronted at least, "No, you misunderstand me…" he said swiftly, "I mean to say there are definite classes of students, some better than others yes, however, what is the factor of each of us that determines what one kind of student, or person, one is? Is it the mind, the strength, the will of mankind that separates us from the animals, or each other even?"

Suddenly the Slytherin boy stood, closing the book with a snap. Hermione only caught a glimpse of a diagram of the human mind. "Just some things to think about Hermione," he said cryptically, "and as a final thought; if there are indeed castes of students, is there not to be expected to be a caste of all humans, some inseparable better than others?" with that he left without another word, leaving a confused and fatigued Hermione in the library with no desire to continue studying for the day.