Chapter Eight: Reluctance


Obi-wan thought it wise to have Harry and Sirius take their first meal in their quarters rather than risk any…incidences in the hall with other Jedi. So he made dinner with the help of Anakin who was muttering the whole time about unfair councils and Jedi-nannies. Obi-wan thought he noted a distinct lack of bitterness and Anakin's eyes often strayed curiously to where their guests sat talking. As Obi-wan chopped Iqarian sharproot, he watched Sirius stride to where Harry was sitting and join him at the table. They immediately bowed their heads together and began to converse in rapid-fire whispers. The Jedi master absently wondered what they were talking about.

"Any ideas about where we are?" Harry asked. It was too painful to add "or how to get back?" Sirius shook his head, saying, "Haven't a clue." But really it's not that bad here once you get past the----"

"Aliens?" Harry supplied.

"Yes and the---"

"Fact that we're probably light-years from home?"

"You know, I was thinking about that…" Sirius paused and Harry looked up inquisitively.

"What if it's not so much a matter of how far we are from home, but how long?"

There was a long moment of silence while Harry stared blankly at Sirius, then Harry asked, "What? Has being on this planet already messed up your mind?"

Sirius managed a grin, but then his face took on a more serious look, "I meant what if this planet, Coruscant, is Earth…in the future?"

Just then Obi-wan called from the (kitchen), "Dinner's ready!" And all further conversation was forgotten.

Harry supposed the dinner set before him was the 31st-century version of a hearty balanced meal. There were brownish and greenish chunks of what Harry took to be meat and vegetables respectively. Sitting across from him at the table, Sirius was tucking in with gusto. For a moment Harry eyed his plate apprehensively.

"You gonna eat that?" Anaking asked, so Harry took a bite. It was pretty good. Though he, like any teenage boy teenage boy in his situation stuffed as much good-tasting food into his mouth as possible, Harry was not to be dissuaded from his questioning. After, desert---a sweet-tasting delicacy reminiscent of ice-cream---Obi-wan asked Anakin to clear the table. Harry stood to assist, remnants of the Dursley's home-training. In the kitchen, Anakin was putting dishes into what Harry assumed was some futuristic ultra-efficient dish washer. Harry leaned awkwardly against the counter and asked with all his considerable articulation, "So…"

Anakin finished loading the last dish and straightened to face Harry with an arched brow.

Now that Harry actually had a chance, he wasn't sure what questions he wanted to ask. "What the hell is going on here" was pretty high on his list, but he settled on "How'd you do that trick with the bowl of fruit?"

"Trick?" Anakin asked, and by his tone and the way his eyes were boring into him, Harry knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"Erm, I just thought it was rather cool and I was wondering how you did it?" Harry tried.

Anakin considered Harry for a moment, then deciding he truly meant no disrespect, he curtly replied, "Force manipulation," which, of course, made things as clear as mud for Harry.

"What?"

In the tones of a very impatient pre-school teacher Anakin said," I. Used. The. Force." Then, as an afterthought he added, "Don't tell Obi-wan; he'd kill me."

"Why?"

"Because the Force isn't meant to be used frivolously or for personal gain." Anakin's almost flawless Obi-wan impression was sadly lost on Harry.

"Oh. What is it supposed to be used for?"

"Meditation. Centering. Anchoring."

"Is that all?" Harry asked. Well, how disappointing. Given the choice between magic and meditation, Harry would pick magic any day.

"Yeah. Well that and light-saber duels."

Now that's more like it, Harry thought. Anakin, like a lot of things in this place reminded him of someone. Draco Malfoy, maybe? At least in small part. But Harry thought there was something reminiscent of Ron there too. Thinking of his best friend, he felt a pang in his heart that he would never admit to. Right now, his mind was totally saturated, he had too much to think about, but he tucked the information aside to consider later. Things here were different, but at least they were interesting. Very interesting.

At the table where the adults were sitting, Sirius gave a full stretching yawn. "I am beat," he stated. Now that Sirius mentioned it, Harry was pretty tired too. Even by his standards, he'd had quite a day.

Obi-wan stood and said, "Oh, yes, of course. We should all be getting to bed." He gave Anakin a pointed look. The padawan waited until he looked away to roll his eyes. Harry and Sirius were looking confused and expectant. Almost as if they thought beds would appear in front of them, and with all they'd seen in one day, who'd blame 'em?

"We've set up beds for you in some attached quarters. Just through that door there."

Together, Harry and Sirius made their way to said door. There was just a tiny bit of awkwardness after the door whooshed open. Then Obi-wan said, "Good night," and Harry and Sirius returned it slightly awkwardly. Then they were alone on the other side of the door.

"Would it kill you to smile and say 'good night'?" Obi-wan asked exasperatedly.

"Well it might and it might not, Master, but why take the chance?"

The Jedi Master bravely attempted to look stern and disapproving but his small smile shone through. Then he sobered a bit, saying, "Really Anakin, what could they have possibly done to you already?" Obi-wan paused for a moment, watching Anakin sulkily examine his boots. He sighed and continued, "Keep an open mind, you may just find that you have a lot in common."

Yea, Anakin thought gazing absently at Harry and Sirius' door. Fat chance.

"I'm not sure I understand." These were understandably the first words Neville said after being informed of the Prophecy. Ron ran a hand through his hair and gave Hermione a pleading look. She was better at this kind of thing. In fact, she was better at a lot of things.

The three were sitting in a parlor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the Head Quarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione did her best to summon a reassuring smile, but it got harder and harder as she became in need of reassurance herself.

"When you were one year old…" Hermione began but Neville uncharacteristically cut her off. "No, I understand that part, even if I don't much like it. When I was a baby, a Prophecy was made that said Harry or me had to kill Voldemort. Now that Harry's out of the picture, everyone's hoping I can just take his place. Is that about right?"

Hermione was taken aback at Nevilles' reaction, she'd gone over this conversation a dozen times in her head and in every scenario, Neville had been first shocked, then thoughtful, then steely determined. She wasn't sure how to react to this Neville. She wasn't sure how to show him how much everyone needed him.

"Neville, it's okay that you're upset, I would be if something like this happened to me. I understand."

Now Neville was on his feet. "No. That's just it. You don't understand. You, both of you, have been perfect little heroes since first year. Running around after hours and having adventures and saving the day. No one ever made fun of you or played pranks on you." Neville didn't want to say all this, but it had been pent up for so long, it all needed to released as soon as he loosened the cap. "You were Harry Potter's best friends and I was just the loser, the screw up. Now, what? Harry dies so I'm supposed to step up and take his place? Who do you have lined up after me, huh?" He stopped himself there, face red, chest heaving.

"That's not it at all Neville," Hermione whispered as Ron said, "Yea, mate, don't be thick."

"Yea that's me, the thick runner-up," Neville said with genuine venom in his voice. Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but Neville wasn't hearing it. He stalked out of the room and up the stairs. He didn't stop until he reached his room and slammed the door behind him. On the other side, he leaned against his door for a long time, the look in his eyes fading from righteous anger to confusion.

Back in the sitting room, Hermione and Ron's eyes were still locked on the point where Neville had disappeared. "Well that went well."

Hermione managed to glare at him. Ron added. "You, know. Considering."

Yeah. "Considering" the wizarding world's shining light had been snuffed out like a candle,things were going quite well.


Author's Note: I am so sorry about that horrendous wait. Although I haven't been posting, this story has not been far from my mind. I can guarantee the next wait won't be half as long. Hopefully this chapter gave you enough to think about until next time.

Please review.

Always, La Nanita