Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. Star Wars is owned by Disney. I am neither a British woman nor an animated mouse. Thus I do not own nor do I claim ownership of either Harry Potter or Star Wars, and I am not profiting in any way through the writing and publication of this story.
Holocron
IX
Friday, June 25, 1993
The rat scurried into the hallway and quickly hid itself in the shadows against the wall. Its nose twitched back and forth as it sought out something, anything that might do it harm. Smelling nothing, it darted down the hallway and squeezed through the crack at the bottom of the door and into the little room beyond.
The room was small, but decorated with obvious care. The blue wallpaper was dotted with smiling, yellow suns and slumbering crescent moons. The antique wooden rocking chair in the corner had a soft blanket folded over its back. There was a big dresser and a table with a soft, padded surface.
And there was a crib with handsomely carved wooden rails.
The rat scurried into the middle of the room and then transformed into the huddled, nervous form of Peter Pettigrew.
Pettigrew looked down at the slumbering child that was lovingly tucked-in and sleeping in the crib. A Muggle boy, not yet a year old - just as the wraith had instructed him. He cringed away. The child had a smell about it. Probably needed to be changed.
All of a sudden, the baby stirred and started crying.
"Quiet, you little brat!" Pettigrew snarled.
He pulled out his wand and started to cast a spell when he heard the door creak behind him. He turned to see a young woman standing there. She was dressed in long, flannel pajamas, and was holding a baby's bottle.
She started at him for a moment.
Pettigrew stared right back.
Then she screamed.
"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted and green light silenced the woman.
"Jenny!" a man's voice shouted from somewhere else in the house.
There was no more time to wait around. He quickly bent down and grabbed the crying child. He pointed his wand at the dresser, and a quick Incendio had the thing burning like a torch. He spared one last look at the woman lying on the ground as he heard the sound of footsteps running down the hall.
He turned on the spot and Disapparated with a loud crack!
OoOoO
OoOoO
Wednesday, September 1, 1993
"Hey Weasel!"
Harry heard the voice of Draco Malfoy call out as they were leaving the feast in the Great Hall.
"Just ignore him," Hermione whispered, but Ron had already stopped and turned to face the other boy.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" he replied.
"I heard you and your blood-traitor family went on vacation to Egypt this summer," the blond boy said as he and his two bodyguards sauntered up to the Gryffindors.
"What of it?" Ron asked with his eyes narrowed.
"How did it feel? Being able to travel like normal people?"
Harry could see his friend start to go rigid, his muscles tensing, ready for action.
"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry stated before turning away. But the Slytherin wasn't finished.
"Although, I'm not sure if your pathetic excuse for a father made a very good decision taking the lot of you abroad," Malfoy continued his taunts. "If I'd won seven hundred galleons, I'd have finally bought you some decent robes. Really, the way you and your filthy siblings allow yourselves to be seen in public…"
Ron's hands were clasped into trembling fists.
"But then again," Malfoy went on, "I don't actually need to win the Prophet's grand prize just to afford new robes."
The Slytherins apparently found that to be rather funny, especially when Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn't seem to find a way to respond.
"Let's go," Malfoy eventually said to his friends, "the Weasel's still saving up for some wit. We'll be here all night if we wait for him to say something!"
Harry could feel the anger radiating off his friend as he watched the Slytherings stride away with narrowed eyes.
"Don't pay them any mind," Hermione said.
Harry placed a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"Let the Force wash away your anger," he instructed, "just gather it up and let it drift—"
But Ron pushed his hand away.
"Shove off Harry," he said before turning toward Gryffindor Tower.
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione admonished as they hurried after him. "That was uncalled for!"
"Lay off me, Hermione!" he shouted at her before turning to Harry. "And I'll give my bloody anger over to the bloody Force when I'm good and ready! I'm not gonna to turn to the dark side over freaking Malfoy of all people, even if he is a giant arse. Just leave me be for a bit."
Harry and Hermione stopped and watched their friend stomp down the hall, grumbling to himself about Malfoy being a 'bloody git.'
"Honestly!" Hermione finally said. "He's no reason to be short with us!"
"He'll be fine," Harry eventually said. "Just needs to cool down."
He turned and tried to smile at Hermione.
"Weasleys and their tempers," he continued, "just part of their charm."
They both shared a short, nervous laugh before continuing to the common room, but neither of them found the situation to really be funny.
OoOoO
OoOoO
Tuesday, December 14, 1993
Hermione smiled in utter contentment as she turned another page of the book lying on the table in front of her. It was an old tome, written in 1437 on the possible adverse effects of attempting to cast Transfigurations without holding a clear image in mind. The author's style was rather poor, he tended to use too many words when a few would have sufficed, his penmanship was atrocious, and his Latin definitely left something to be desired. Hermione quickly finished the page and turned to the next.
She really loved the Force.
It was just so useful. She'd always been smart. And she'd always loved to read, devouring books like they were going out of style. But since she'd begun learning about the Force from Harry, she'd graduated to a whole new level of bookworm. Or maybe it was better to say a whole new order of magnitude.
She was still herself, and she didn't feel like she was any more intelligent than she had been before, but the mental discipline she'd learned in order to embrace and remain in the Force also helped her to focus so much more intently upon her reading. And when she invited the Force to flow through her while she was reading… the way she was able to not only recall and remember the text, but also understand it and draw new conclusions and make connections to other material… not to mention the sheer speed at which she could read… it was… marvelous. Simply marvelous.
Hermione was vaguely aware of a few of the other students in the library that were staring at her and her pile of books. Jealously hung heavily in the Force, especially from the group of Ravenclaws that were huddled around the table across the aisle. They couldn't understand how she could go through so many books so quickly, and they resented her for it.
Hermione didn't care.
She didn't need them. Their petty feelings of insecurity, which would likely be expressed in snide remarks later on, were of no concern to her. Just a few years previously their glares would have filled her with self-doubt and anxiety.
But not now.
Now she was rather happy with the way her life was going.
She was one of the stars of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (who could have imagined that?!), and she was still getting used to the popularity among her housemates that her athletics had earned her. It had done wonders for her self-confidence. She'd even been asked to Hogsmeade by three different boys! Three! She'd turned them all down of course, she didn't have time for that kind of foolishness. And they weren't her type. But still, it felt lovely to be sought after.
She was quickly reading through as many books as she could get her hands on. By her own estimation she'd likely finish the entire library by the middle of her fifth year, unless her reading speed jumped up another notch again, of course.
She had two wonderful friends that she knew she could count on for anything. The three of them were nearly inseparable. And they were constantly vying with each other for the best grades out of the entire third-year class. Well, she and Harry were. Ron had to be chided into doing his homework every once in a while, but he was still in the top ten most of the time.
And she had the Force, which kept opening new horizons for her seemingly every time she reached out and let it embrace her.
Yes, Hermione Granger was quite happy with her life.
And it was all thanks to Harry.
Hermione sighed as she snapped her book closed and reached for another.
To think, if fate hadn't brought them together, and if Harry hadn't reluctantly agreed to teach her and Ron about the Force, who knew where they'd be now? She certainly wouldn't be doing one-armed handstands while levitating stacks of books in unused classrooms during her free time, that was for sure.
The only thing that could've been better would've been if she had been able to sign up for all of the elective courses offered at Hogwarts. But the schedule didn't allow for it, as there simply weren't enough hours in the day. She'd eventually settled on not taking either Muggle Studies or Arithmancy, as those classes didn't include much practical work and she'd correctly assumed that she could teach herself the material through reading. She figured that she was keeping up with her peers in those subjects, and was sure that she would do very well in them when she eventually sat for her OWLs.
The big surprise of the year so far had been Divination. She'd expected the class to be something of a joke, having heard plenty about the professor from the upper-class Gryffindors. And while Trelawney was obviously a charlatan, the Force seemed to thrum within Hermione whenever she practiced the material. She knew that visions were possible through the Force, Harry had told them as much, but she'd never had one. Still, Divination brought her into contact with an aspect of the Force that she'd never experienced before, even if that wasn't the object of the class.
Hermione glanced at her watch. She had thirty minutes before she was supposed to meet Harry and Ron to practice their katas. Plenty of time to finish the 378 pages remaining in the book.
OoOoO
OoOoO
Monday, February 21, 1994
Harry tugged his cloak tighter around him as he trudged through the snow on the way to his Care of Magical Creatures class. Winter in Scotland was freezing and walking through the snow to class was less than enjoyable. He was glad for the Snow Repelling Charm than Hermione had taught him to put on his shoes– without it, by now they would've been full of melting snow and his feet would've been wet and freezing.
Suddenly, the Force rang out in warning. Harry leaned to the side and ducked as something whizzed through the air where his head had been not a moment before. It soared pass him and struck Hermione in the back of her head, exploding in a shower of wet, white clumps that got lodged in her bushy hair.
"Ronald Weasley!" she shouted as she turned to glare at their red-headed friend.
But Ron was grinning like a loon and already busy molding another snowball.
"You're such an immature, little—"
But she was cut off by Ron's next attack that splattered against her chest.
"What's that, Hermione?" he taunted. "Can't hear you. You're a little muffled by all that snow you're wearing!"
Hermione whipped out her wand and pointed it at the snow-covered ground.
"Ningues Oppugno!" she shouted and a huge pile of snow lurched up and threw itself at Ron.
He tried to dance out of the way, but couldn't escape it all.
"Cold! Cold! Bloody hell, woman!" he cried as he jumped around and tried to reach down the back of his robes, "You've got it down my back!"
Harry burst out laughing at his friends' antics.
They both stopped and turned to look at him.
"What's so funny, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, what're you laughing at?" Ron added.
"Err… nothing?"
"Get him!" Hermione cried.
Harry whipped out his wand and tried to defend himself, but an overwhelming mass of cold, white missiles was already headed straight for him.
By the time they made it to class, all three of them were totally covered in snow, but they were laughing with each other nonetheless.
For once Harry was glad that Hagrid still had them working with salamanders – the little fire lizards would give him a chance to warm up. Hermione's snowball-fighting skills had surprised him. She really knew what she was doing. The clever girl was somehow able to make sure that plenty of snow always found its way down the back of his shirt.
He needed to find a way to get back at her. He smiled as he thought. Maybe he should talk to Ron about setting up an ambush for their friend. She'd probably find a way to turn it against them, but that would be fun too.
The melting snow under his clothes made him shiver and broke his train of thought. Where were those salamanders?
OoOoO
OoOoO
Saturday, April 16, 1994
Ron grinned as he took his position on the pitch. They'd dominated once again this year, and Slytherin was all that stood between Gryffindor and another sweet, sweet Quidditch Cup championship. The evil gits didn't stand a chance, not when the lions had the Force on their side.
"Hey Weasel!" Malfoy called out from his broom.
The grin slipped from Ron's face.
"Go fly into a tree, Malfoy!" he called back.
"Is that how your pathetic father ended up with your mother? Flew into her giant rear end and just decided to stay there?" the pointy-faced git laughed.
Ron felt his face flush red. Malfoy really had it coming one of these days…
"At least I can actually play Quidditch!" Ron shouted at the other boy. "Unlike you!"
"Big deal," Malfoy dismissed his statement, "so you manage to stay on your broom while you chase after the quaffle. Who cares? Everyone knows that the seekers are the real Quidditch stars."
Ron seethed inside.
"We totally shut you out last year! And we're going to do it again today!"
Malfoy shrugged.
"It's not my fault that my team is saddled with a bunch of no-talent hacks. I still caught the snitch last year, and I'll do it again today. That's all that matters. It's all the professional scouts look for anyways."
The little bastard!
Before he knew what he was doing, Ron had already reached for the Force and was speaking.
"You don't even know what the snitch looks like, Malfoy!"
The blond boy looked confused. He shook his head as if to clear it.
"I don't know what the snitch looks like?"
Ron grinned again.
But then Madam Hooch was tossing the quaffle and the Force was telling him to dive. He followed its directions without another thought, and left Malfoy to himself.
OoOoO
OoOoO
"This is quickly turning into another rout by Gryffindor!" Lee Jordan's voice carried through the stands. "Potter passes to Weasley. He dodges a bludger, and another bludger that came up from behind! What a move! He passes to Granger. She shoots! She scores! Hermione Granger, queen of the air! What a girl! Maybe one of these days she'll finally go out with me."
"Jordan!"
"Sorry professor. That brings the score to Gryffindor 370, Slytherin zero."
Ron was in his element, gliding through the air on the back of his Nimbus 2000, the Force guiding his every move, and his housemates chanting his name along with Harry's and Hermione's as they continued to demolish the Slytherin chaser line.
He turned to look over his shoulder and spared a glance at Malfoy. The git was just sitting up there on his broom, looking around all confused. Like he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Of course, Ron knew that that was precisely the case.
He grinned.
Git.
He turned and dropped down several feet. Montague had the quaffle and he was headed his way. The Force beckoned him to swing left, but Ron saw another opportunity. He flew down so that the Slytherin would pass right over his head. He saw the older boy's eyes go wide in confusion at his odd decision. But Ron was still smiling as he reached out with just a trickle of the Force…
And the quaffle slipped out of Montague's hands and fell right into Ron's waiting arms.
He sped off toward the hoops. This was going to be yet another shutout.
OoOoO
OoOoO
Ron felt like his life couldn't get any better as he stepped out of the locker room. They'd destroyed the Slytherins and won the cup! 670 to nothing! Take that Malfoy! The git looked like he'd wanted to cry as he'd stormed off to the dungeons or wherever the snakes kept their gear.
Ron smiled. He had a party to get to.
A hand suddenly reached out and pulled him around the corner. But he wasn't concerned, he'd know that presence anywhere.
"What were you thinking?!" Harry asked in an angry whisper.
"What're you on about?" Ron replied.
"You know exactly what I'm 'on about!' What were you thinking using the Force like that during a game?!"
"Don't be daft," Ron answered, shaking Harry's hand off his shoulder. "We use the Force during games all the time."
"Relying on the Force for guidance and reflexes is one thing. Using the Force the steal the Quaffle is totally different!"
"No it isn't. The Force is the bloody Force!"
"What if Hooch had gotten suspicious?!"
"What? She can't sense the Force…"
"No, but what if she saw what you did? Called you out for summoning the quaffle or casting a hex or something during a game?!"
"Oh. Hadn't thought of that. But she couldn't prove anything!"
"No, but she'd be suspicious! The other teachers would get suspicious! I told you, this has to stay absolutely secret!"
"Yeah, yeah, fine. I get it. I shouldn't have done it."
"Don't do it again," Harry warned. "We've already got enough of an advantage without abusing the Force for a game!"
A game? A game?! Quidditch was more than a bloody game!
But Ron took a moment to calm himself. Harry was right. He'd promised to keep the Force secret. And he would. They were already slaughtering anyone that came up against them anyways.
"Fine."
They nodded at each other. Both still a bit miffed, Ron could tell.
It was a good thing Harry hadn't noticed the mind trick he'd used on Malfoy, or else he'd really be pissed…
OoOoO
OoOoO
Thursday, May 26, 1994
Harry sighed and relaxed himself further as he stared at the crystal ball in front of him. The stifling air and heavy clouds of incense wafted all around him, but he paid them no mind. A little bit of Force mediation during Divination was exactly what he needed. The end of year exams were only a week and a half away and Hermione was pushing them to study more than was really necessary.
He obliged her as always. After all, it wasn't very difficult. He knew the material pretty well, and a little extra studying would help with the practicals, which was always the hardest thing about magic. But it also made her happy, and Harry liked it when his friends were happy.
"Stare into the depths of the crystal ball…" Trelawney's husky voice solemnly intoned as she wandered the aisles. "You must close your mind and open your third eye…"
What a load of crock.
Harry peered into the crystal ball and reached for the Force. It flooded him and filled him with life and energy. His body and his mind sang with the rhythm of its currents. He was only vaguely aware of Trelawney's instructions as he let the Force guide him to where he needed to be.
He glanced away from the crystal ball, and was suddenly confused. Why was he out on the lawn? And when had it gotten so dark?
And why was there a feeling of dread steadily building in his stomach?
His breath began to quicken and his heart started to beat a terrified rhythm.
Behind him there was a sharp, sudden sound - a snap-hiss followed by an electric thrum.
He spun around and saw a dark figure, cloaked in shadow, holding a bright, glowing sword of red fire.
He spun again, but grew dizzy.
The world swirled around and his vision went black, except for the glow of the fiery, red sword.
It moved so fast, faster than his mind could follow. Cutting through the air with its deadly, electric hum.
It battered against something with a clash of static - bright, terrible flashes lighting up the night.
Someone was screaming.
Someone was dying.
"Harry!"
He jerked his head back and his eyes flew open as he sucked in a lung-full of air. He coughed and sputtered as the incense and perfume overwhelmed him. He felt a hand slapping him on the back as he slowly regained his breath.
Harry looked up into the worried face of Ron Weasley.
"Alright there, mate?"
"Ron! Oh shit, Ron! I had a vision, I—" and then he noticed that the entire third-year Divination class was staring at him.
"What did you see, child?" Trelawney asked as she pushed her way to him, her eyes huge and intent behind her thick glasses. "What did you see?"
His palms were sweaty and his heart was still racing. He could feel both Ron and Hermione's attention zeroed in upon him. They were worried. Not to mention what he felt from the rest of the class.
"It… it was…" he started to say. Should he tell the batty old professor what he saw?
"Death," Harry finally heard himself saying. "I think I saw death…"
"Oh my poor boy," the professor sadly pronounced. "My poor, poor boy. But Death does come for us all. There's no stopping the hand of Fate. To see your own doom… and still so young… such a terrible fate…"
Trelawney kept rambling as she circled around to the other tables. The rest of the class slowly looked back to their own crystal balls, but Harry could feel that their minds were still focused on him.
Was that really what he'd seen? His own death? But there had been more to it than that. Death was definitely part of what he'd seen, but somehow the vision seemed like something so much… worse.
Why was he seeing this now? What was the Force trying to tell him?
He reached out to invite the Force to take his anxiety and the remnants of his terror away from him.
Master Isu had told him about Force visions, but this had been the first he'd ever had. He knew that he shouldn't place too much credence in what he'd seen. The Holocron had taught him that the future was always in motion, never static or determined. What he'd seen might never come to pass at all.
But he couldn't get the image of that fiery, red blade out of his mind.
AN: What do you think? Let me know.
I managed to find some time to work on this even while traveling, so lucky you! Again, no promises about updates during the next few weeks. But like I said before, I should be back to normal by the middle of January.
Merry Christmas to all!
Thanks for your reviews. And thanks for reading!