Chapter 1

Harry was rather fond of his grandmother. Sure, she could be a little strange at times, but she was the only family he had left. Unfortunately his grandmother had just gotten stranger.

Why was she taking him back to her home planet so that he could go to some boarding school? He just couldn't figure it out. There was a reason why Grandma had taken him and left Earth.

He liked it in the New Republic. He'd already decided that he wanted to be a fighter pilot. He'd had it all mapped out. Then Grandma had announced that he was being sent to some boarding school in Wild Space called Hogwarts. This was going to throw off all his plans.

He'd learned English for Grandma, he'd learned the history of Earth from old, paper texts for her, he'd learned the geography of earth for her, but this was going too far. He didn't understand why she was insisting on this. It made no sense. Especially since she'd purchased datacards that covered everything he would have learned at school for the next seven years.

Why was she sending him to this place if he wasn't going to learn any of that? Did she want him to learn about the culture of Earth or something? And he wouldn't even find out what was going on until they reached Earth. She'd already told him that much.

The one good thing that had come of this was that Grandma had promised to let him fly their ship back to Coruscant at the end of the school year. She'd only started teaching him how to fly several months earlier.

"Magic?" Harry blinked at his grandmother. "Magic isn't real."

Arabella sighed. "You believe in the Force but you won't believe in magic."

"But the Force is real."

"And so is magic," said Arabella. "My parents were a witch and a wizard and you are a wizard as well."

"No, I'm not."

"Then how did your teacher's hair turn blue?" asked Arabella. "How did that glass disappear?"

"B-but magic isn't real."

"Just think of it like another way of using the Force," sighed Arabella. "I'm not sure about the exact science of it, but the magic used on Earth is probably another was of using the Force."

"So you're sending me to a school of magic. Why couldn't you have talked to one of the Jedi about me going to their Academy instead?"

"It doesn't work that way. I never would have let you go to Earth if it worked that way," Arabella said softly. "I've made so many enemies on this planet and no matter what they say, Hogwarts is not safe, but you need to learn to control it."

"Why doesn't it work that way?"

Arabella leaned back in her chair, a sad look upon her face. "How many times have you heard of a Force-Sensitive going insane because they weren't trained? Witches and Wizards who don't learn to use their magic have been known to go insane."

"Insane?"

"They have no outlet for their powers, no magical training to fall back on. If the magic doesn't leave your body in spells or potions or accidental magic it overwhelms your body. That sort of thing has been known to… short-out people's brains."

Harry looked down. "How much training do I need?"

Arabella seemed to be thinking. "Until the end of Fifth Year. From what I remember, the last two years are just specialized training in whatever subjects you pick. Which reminds me, you can and will study those datacards and keep up with your class level. I don't want you falling behind."

"Yes Grandma."

"And don't let anybody see your datapad. The people of Earth still haven't figured out how to get past their moon let alone make computers that advance. Technology isn't supposed to work right around magic either."

"Then how-"

"You're datapad will work fine. It's protected against EMP pulses, which is more than enough protection from the amount of magic at Hogwarts. I packed extra power cells just incase."

"Right."

"I'm going to get you an owl as a familiar just so that it doesn't look too suspicious. Every couple of weeks I want you to use the owl so that it looks like you're getting mail from somebody. I'll be sending you messages through your datapad instead."

"Understood."

"I won't be able to take you for Christmas break, but I will send you a present."

Harry cracked a smile at that. They weren't Christian, so they didn't celebrate Christmas, but they did celebrate Yule. It was like Fete Week, but better. In Harry's opinion at least. Grandma threw a party for her co-workers and let Harry invite his school friends over. There'd be a large dinner and their apartment would be decorated with all sorts of plants. There'd be singing and dancing as well, all songs from Earth and in English. After everybody left, he and Grandma would exchange a gift. He'd miss the party, but it probably wouldn't be too bad.

Mr. Harry Typho

Cargo Hold

Naboo Transport, Joy of Moenia

Canna

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn't known that Hogwarts was so accurate. For a moment he wondered if whoever sent the letters read the addresses.

"Grandma, my letter arrived."

Arabella poked her head into the cargo hold. "Is the owl still here?"

"Yup," said Harry. It had been strange to see an owl fly through the open hatch and into the hold. The owl rested on a box, watching him.

"I'll write out your acceptance, then we'll head to Diagon Alley for your supplies," she said. "There should be enough money in my account to cover what you need. Make sure you wear plain trousers and a simple white shirt, long sleeve."

"Got it."

Having grown up on a planet such as Coruscant, Harry found Diagon to be… odd to say the least. He couldn't even begin to describe how out of place he felt. Grandma fit in perfectly, wearing a plain, ankle length dress she called a robe and her hair in a simple bun. Sure, he looked like he belonged as well, but he didn't and he knew it.

Although now she claimed to be Arilé Typho. He wasn't sure exactly why she was using the alias, but didn't want to ask in a place so public. Maybe later, once they were back at the ship.

They'd gotten almost everything on his school list, including a beautiful snowy white owl. The only thing left was to get his books. Harry knew exactly why Grandma had planned it that way. Whenever they went shopping, Harry would inevitably be distracted by datacards about everything from history to science to math to fiction. Grandma probably thought he'd react the same way in the bookstore.

As they entered the store, Harry realized that his grandmother was right. Even if this place was unbelievably primitive, even if he had to go to some school in the middle of nowhere to learn magic, even if his dream of becoming a pilot was delayed for a year or two, these books made it worth it.

Watching Harry peruse the history books, Arabella bit back a smile. He was so happy. Definitely a Ravenclaw in the making.

She was once more grateful that she'd thought to have his eyesight corrected and scar removed. Without them, he only bore a passing resemblance to James Potter. That scar had been far too recognizable as well.

She went to gather his schoolbooks, knowing how easy it was for Harry to get caught up in the pursuit of knowledge. Harry had been at the top of his class back on Coruscant. He'd even skipped a year level. Around other students he acted like a normal child, hiding how smart he truly was. No doubt a side effect of being raised by somebody who worked for NRI.

Maybe he'd be a Slytherin instead. He was certainly ambitious enough for it.

She'd started teaching him basic survival skills at a young age. Well, what she considerd basic survival skills, at least. Arabella had decided early on that if Harry was going to be schooled right under Dumbledore's nose, he had to be able to take care of himself.

Arabella had made sure that Harry had a good childhood. She'd made sure that he knew how to fight and plan and think without relying on magic. If she continued his training, Arabella was quite sure that by the time he applied for New Republic Fleet Academy (1) he would be a formidable foe.

Harry didn't think she knew about his desire to become a navy pilot. He should have realized that one couldn't hide mush from an intelligence agent. Especially one you lived with.

Harry glanced at the family of redheads standing near the barrier between platforms nine and ten. From their clothing and luggage he assumed they were Hogwarts students as well. Why were they waiting there?

With a mental shrug Harry decided to find out later. He wanted to get on the train early and find a good compartment. Someplace easy to defend. Harry still wasn't sure he liked the thought of these Wizards.

Harry had come to the conclusion that Grandma was right about the ratio of common sense to magical abilitie from his visit to Diagon Alley. He still couldn't figure out why Knockturn Alley was so public. Who in their right mind would put a black market there and then practically advertise the fact that one could find just about anything illegal in it?

Why were they making it so easy to be caught? Never mind. Harry was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer to that. Dark magic had probably fried what few brain cells the store owners of Knockturn Alley had.

Arabella hugged him, then said, "I want you to send me a letter tomorrow to let me know what house you're sorted into." She leaned in close, presumably to kiss his cheek. "Be careful. Those redheads were the Weasleys. Very loyal to Dumbledore. Stay away from DE spawn and Dumbledore's minions, neither are to be trusted. There's a list of families aligned with both in your pocket."

As she pulled away, Harry said, "Yes Grandma."

"I'll see you in the summer."

Harry eventually settled on a compartment in the last car of the train. He didn't particularly like the layout of the compartment, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

About ten minutes before the train was set to leave, a boy opened the compartment door. He looked to be about the same age as Harry. The boy was a little pudgy with brown eyes and hair.

"D-do you mind if I…"

Harry sighed. Even if magic users were idiots, he would eventually need to make friends. It would be unbearable to go nearly a year without anybody to talk to.

"Sure," he said. "I'll help you with your trunk."

After they'd settled, the boy introduced himself as Neville Longbottom.

"Harry Typho," he said.

"Muggleborn?" Neville asked quietly.

Eyes narrowed, Harry said, "More like half-blood. My grandmother's a squib. The rest of the family was Muggle. Is that a problem?"

Neville quickly shook his head. "Sorry. I just-"

Whatever Neville was going to say was interrupted by the door opening again. A girl with bushy hair and large brown eyes stood in the doorway.

"Can I sit here?"

Harry nodded. "Let me get your trunk. I'm Harry Typho and that's Neville Longbottom."

"Hermione Granger," she said. "Are you two first years as well?"

Harry heard Neville say yes as he put the trunk next to his own.

"Me too." Harry sat down again.

"Do you know what house you want to be in?" she asked excitedly. "Supposedly people from the same family tend to be put into the same house, but I'm the only witch in the family and-"

"I wouldn't worry if I were you," said Harry. "You get sorted based on personality."

"I'll probably be a Hufflepuff," Neville said miserably.

"So being loyal and hardworking is now a bad thing," Harry said. "Good to know."

"I've been reading and I really think Gryffindor is the best house," said Hermione.

"Ah, the house of the brave, the fearless, the foolhardy idiots who rush off into battle without thinking things through." For a moment Harry considered his grandmother's advice on remaining in the background at Hogwarts. Five, maybe seven years old holding his tongue would not end well.

"How could you say that?" demanded Hermione.

He just smiled. "What good is bravery without knowledge and planning?"

"What house do you want? Ravenclaw?" asked Neville.

Harry shrugged. "According to Grandma, my family generally ended up in Slytherin. But who wants to be in a house declared evil by the rest of the school? As for Ravenclaw… I may like learning, but I like being a normal student. You know my opinion on Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"There's nothing left, then."

"I'll go where I'm sorted. Until then it's no use trying to figure it out." He paused. "By the way, there's a frog near the door."

Harry watched as Hermione, then Neville were sorted into Gryffindor. Hermione was quite obviously the type of know-it-all that felt the need to stuff knowledge down the throats of others. Neville, despite being scared of his own shadow had been sorted into the house of the brave.

Did he really want to take the time and energy to make new friends? No, not particularly. Those two would serve well enough as friends. Now to convince the hat to put him into Gryffindor.

"Typho, Harry," called out McGonagall.

Harry sat down on the stool, allowing the hat to be placed on his head. He was tense, ready for anything.

'Interesting… Never sorted a student from another planet before. You're certainly ambitious and cunning enough for Slytherin… As loyal as Lady Hufflepuff herself and very hardworking… Your pursuit of knowledge is for your goals alone… Ravenclaw wouldn't do at all… Your assessment of Gryffindor is certainly correct on most occasions. Students these days don't know the true meaning of bravery… You want to be in Gryffindor? Why? You'd make a very good Slytherin or Hufflepuff…I see… If you're sure, better be "GRYFFINDOR!"'

Harry ran over to the table, sitting next to Hermione and across from Neville. They'd smiled and congratulated him.

Harry couldn't help but say, "Well somebody has to make sure you two don't run off and do something foolishly brave."

Ten minutes into the meal, Harry was beginning to regret his choice. Ron Weasley was an annoying idiot who had quickly joined up with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. All three of them had decided to share their stupidity, collectively lowering the IQ of the house. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed to be joined at the hip after only a couple minutes of chatting about boys and things best not thought about by said boys. At least he could have a semi-intelligent conversation with Neville and Hermione.

Harry glanced up at the various professors, wondering what their teaching methods were like. He clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to show his pain. The moment he'd looked at their table, a stabbing, throbbing pain had flitted across the right side of his forehead.

He wasn't sure exactly why he'd felt that pain, but best to be cautious. He'd need to find out where it came from. Grandma had said the school was dangerous, and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of that danger.

Arabella blinked at the message. Gryffindor? That certainly wasn't what she'd expected. A good choice, though. He'd even started a friendship with that Longbottom boy and a Muggle-born girl.

Gryffindor had the highest number of Dumbledore's minions in it. They were frighteningly loyal to the man. But he was right under Dumbledore's nose. Arabella doubted he'd suspect one of the Gryffindors of anything other than pranks unless it was serious.

The friends Harry had chosen were some of the best available options as well. Augusta Longbottom had a grudge against Dumbledore a kilometer long. Understandable considering the old man had promised to protect Frank and Alice and had then left them open for attack.

As for the girl... So long as Harry and Neville made sure she knew Dumbledore wasn't all-powerful, it would be fine. At least the girl hadn't been brainwashed into thinking Dumbledore was the next Merlin her entire life.

Harry watched a beautiful snowy owl fry through the Great Hall. Like the other owls in Hall, she was delivering mail. Although this was a letter her master had given her the night before, when he'd told her to fly to Canna, a small island off Scotland, then return.

She landed next to his plate and held out her leg. He took the letter and fed her some bacon.

"Is this from Grandma?" he asked softly. "I wasn't expecting her to reply this quickly."

"Is that you're owl?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah. Grandma got her for me when I was accepted to Hogwarts," he explained. "She thought I wasn't going to be at all magical, like my father."

Hermione blinked, looking slightly confused. "Why-"

"Mrs. Typho is a squib," explained Neville. "The rest of Harry's family is completely non-magical. What's your owl's name?"

"Umé," said Harry. He'd considered naming the owl something like Hedwig, but had then decided on a name from Naboo. "It means dancing light."

"That's a very pretty name. Where did you get it from?"

"My great-grandmother. Grandpa wasn't from the United Kingdom. He and Grandma couldn't even understand each other when they first met." He smiled. He and Grandma had already thought of a coverstory for his granfather. "He was a sailor and they met while he was on shore leave."

1) I have assumed that the New Republic Fleet Academy works the same way as the Air Force Academy. If I'm wrong, please tell me.