Author's Note: Sorry about Chapter 2, I made a bit of a factual mistake. Negative Reinforcement should be Punishment (as pointed out by a reviewer). I wasn't really paying attention and I gave up on psychology after the intro course from hell (better known as Fundamental of Psychology).

Chapter 3

Augusta Longbottom was delighted by the changes in her grandson, if a bit startled. She hadn't realized how big a change Neville's two friendships would cause.

Neville looked much healthier, and even sported a light tan. He was getting much better grades than she thought he would. He even stood up for himself against some of his aunts and uncles. All in all, Augusta Longbottom was very pleased.

Dan Granger blinked as his daughter, Hermione, went off on another monologue about her frieds, Harry and Neville. One look at his daughter had made Dan decide that sending his daughter to Hogwarts had been a good idea, after all. He and Emma had been so worried that magic would have a negative effect on Hermione.

Hermione had never really gotten along well with her fellow students. Dan could understand why. Being smart wasn't exactly smiled upon until one reached the work force.

He was still surprised that she'd made friend so quickly. But Neville sounded like a nice boy. Harry… Dan wasn't sure what to make of him. From Hermione's description the boy sounded like a wise guy that enjoyed pointing out the "stupidity" of his fellow students and rebelling against the "system".

Quite honestly, that Harry fellow sounded like a snarky little bastard. He still wasn't sure why Hermione had befriended the boy. Had she been so desperate for human contact that she'd been willing to befriend somebody like that?

"Hermione," said Dan, interrupting her rant. "Why don't you tell me some more about Harry? His family, home life, that sort of thing."

"Uh, English isn't his first language," said Hermione. "He was born near London, but after his parents were murdered he went to live with his grandmother in… I'm not really sure where. But they're in the middle of a civil war. Well, technically the rebellion began about forty years ago, but it was only in the past fifteen or twenty years that there were full scale battles."

"Why was his grandmother living in a country like that?"

"Mrs. Typho was from the UK originally, but her husband was from… whatever country it is that Harry's a citizen of. Uh, Mrs. Typho is with the rebels. She works for the government they've put together. That's all I know, really."

"He comes from a war zone?"

"Well…" said Hermione. "He lives in the country's capital city and there have only been a handful of fights there. The rebels took it over before he was born."

Dan's mouth opened, then closed. Finally he said, "Why don't you go finish up your homework. I need to speak to your mother."

"Dad-"

"Don't worry, baby. I just want to talk to your mother."

Hermione gave him a suspicious look, then left to go find her schoolbooks. Once he was sure she wasn't trying to follow and listen in, Dan went to go find his wife, Emma.

By the last week of vacation Harry was going stir crazy. He was so far ahead with his studies that, had he been attending school on Coruscant, he probably would have skipped yet another year. Left with little else to do, Harry decided to try out the invisibility cloak.

Every night Harry would explore the castle, trying to find what he and his friends had missed before. Eventually, Harry found himself in an abandoned classroom, facing a mirror.

It was a tall mirror with the words: Erisad stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi carved into the top. There was something about the mirror that was off. More than just the images that shouldn't be there. It was almost like the mirror was trying to pull him in and something was telling him to leave at the same time.

Harry examined the image in the mirror, trying to figure out exactly what it did. He was in the forefront with his arm around a brown haired, brown-eyed girl he didn't recognize. He wore a flight suit with the symbol for the New Republic on it. The girl wore a flight suit as well and had a lightsaber clipped to her belt.

In the background were several people, some he recognized and some he didn't. His grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins from his grandfather's side of the family, long since dead, and a man and woman he didn't know.

The man… looked a lot like him. Sure, he had brown eyes instead of green, and wore glasses, but the man looked like an older version of him. The woman was beautiful, with long, dark red hair. She had green eyes the same shade and shape as his own.

Pulling his gaze away from the mirror, Harry decided to leave further explorations for when Hermione and Neville returned. That mirror was… frightening. He would have said it was of the Dark Side, but Harry wasn't a Jedi. Dark Magic, that's what the mirror was made of. Dark magic.

"Why did I agree to this?"

Neville shrugged. "Hermione's scary when she decides to do something."

"Boys," Hermione muttered. "We're showing House spirit in an attempt to not become even more ostracized by our classmates than we already are. Quidditch is everything to our fellow Gryffindors, so we attend games that the House team is playing to show our support."

"Then we're on the wrong side of the pitch," said Harry. "We should be over with the Hufflepuffs."

"Harry!"

"What? The Gryffindor seeker couldn't find his own nose let alone the Snitch. I don't know about you, but I want to be rooting for the winning team. And that means that I'll be routing for Hufflepuff."

"Just sit on the Gryffindor side and pretend to root for our House," growled Hermione.

"Yes ma'am," Harry said quickly, his sense of self-preservation kicking in.

Forty minutes into the game, Harry's assessment of the Gryffindor Seeker was proven correct. Somehow, the idiot had managed to miss seeing the Snitch every single time it appeared. Harry had given up all pretense of supporting Gryffindor and was now shouting directions at the Seeker.

"You idiot! The Snitch is over there!" shouted Harry, not noticing the way the rest of the Gryffindors were staring at him. "To your left! Your left not your right! Other left you nerfherder! Emperor's Black Bones! How stupid is that guy?" Harry sighed and shook his head. "Kriff this poodoo. They're farkled. I'm rooting for Hufflepuff."

It was then that Harry noticed the looks he was receiving. "Shavit," he muttered under his breath. "Heard that, huh? You guys do know that English third language, right?" More unidentifiable looks. "Oh, you guys don't want me to root for Hufflepuff, right? 'Cause I like rooting for a winning team and Gryffindor is getting its ass kicked."

Finally, one of his housemates said, "You really saw the Snitch?"

"Huh? It's not that hard," shrugged Harry. "Probably hiding again. Give me a couple minutes to find it again." Six minutes later, Harry pointed. "It's right there. Looks like Diggory might have spotted it as well." He shrugged, then turned to his friends. "The games pretty much over. Want to head to the library?"

The next two months were strange, to say the least. The Gryffindors tended to stare at him or fall silent when he walked by. Members of the Quidditch team (Seeker not included) would come up to him and ask Quidditch related questions when they saw him.

Whenever he spent any time in the Common Room, people would throw golf balls at him. Not very often, admittedly, but he now had twenty-one golf-balls in his trunk. Each time he caught one of the golf balls (he'd only missed two so far), people would spend the rest of the evening in whispered conversation or staring at him.

His friends weren't much help either. Hermione thought the entire thing immature and refused to get involved and Neville thought it was funny.

By the second week of May, Harry was rather annoyed. Which was why the events of Potion class shouldn't have been all that surprising.

Malfoy had been chucking potion ingredients into various Gryffindor's potions whenever Snape's back was turned. Seeing something flying toward him, Harry had reacted on instinct, grabbing the object out of the air.

Putting the frog spleen in his table, Harry stood up. "That's it! The next person to chuck something at me loses the hand used to throw it!"

"A hundred points from Gryffindor! Two weeks detention!" Snape growled.

"How could you do that?" demanded Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "What? They've been throwing things at me for months."

"B-but Professor Snape is a teacher," she said.

Harry and Neville shared a look. After a moment Harry said, "Snape is a man who enjoys tormenting children. Mentally and emotionally abuse your students is not teaching."

"I'm with Harry on this," said Neville.

Hermione huffed and went back to reading.

Harry met Filch in the Entrance Hall. Only two more nights of detention before he was done. Detention at Hogwarts really wasn't that bad. His grandmother had made him do harder things on a regular basis, claiming they were chores.

When Filch led him to Hadrid's hut, Harry realized that this detention was going to be different. Very different.

It was dark, the only light coming from an unfamiliar moon. They were at the edge of a forest. A large man, the boy with black hair, and a four-legged creature. At their feet was some sort of silver liquid.

The large man went one way, the boy and creature another, both following the silver liquid. She couldn't help but shiver as she set off after the boy. Something about the forest was terrifying. She could only describe it as… the forest felt wrong.

A light came from the tip of the boy's stick, lighting up the path. The boy seemed to be muttering under her breath, but she couldn't hear what he said.

The feeling of unease grew the deeper into the forest they went until she was begging him to turn back. Not that the boy heard her. Something bad was going to happen, she could feel it.

Eventually the boy paused, then hid behind a tree. Wondering what he had seen, she walked forward.

The creature was beautiful and wonderful and dying. A being cloaked in black leaned down, taking some of the creature's blood. She watched in horror as the cloaked being drank the creature's blood. The cloaked being was the source of her unease, she was sure of it.

The cloaked being looked up, staring at the boy's hiding place…

She sat up slowly, glancing around. Both her brothers were still asleep; Jaina breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want to deal with the questions they'd undoubtedly have.

He was still alive. The boy hadn't died when the large monster had attacked him several months earlier. She wasn't sure how, but he'd survived. Maybe he'd been put in a bacta tank.

Harry paced the length of his dorm room. What the brix was going on at this place? First a troll then something that drank unicorn blood. This was not normal, even by Hogwarts' usual lax standards.

He needed to think this out. Make a list of the weird things that had happened so far. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill he began.

Something killing and drinking the blood of unicorns

Troll in the dungeons-Quirrell fainting

Stabbing pain in forehead when blood drinker looked at me

Same pain during Welcoming Feast

Forbidden Corridor-"horrible death"

That seemed to be it, but there had to be more to it. What was down the corridor and why would there be something capable of killing a student in it? It had to be connected to the other weird things going on at Hogwarts.

"What are you doing?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You have that I'm-off-to-get-into-trouble look on your face," said Hermione.

"You do," nodded Neville.

"I-you don't want to know," said Harry. "Plausible deniability and all that."

"Harry, I'm not going to let you do whatever it is you're planning alone," said Neville.

Hermione sighed, muttered something about rules and then said, "I'm going with you as well."

Earlier that day their last final had ended. It was the first bit of free time Harry'd had in weeks, which was why he'd picked it to go explore the corridor.

He sighed. "Meet me here in an hour."

"Alohamora," said Hermione, opening the locked door.

Seeing what was waiting on the other side of the door, Harry cursed silently. Luckily a harp seemed to be keeping the three headed dog asleep. Harry motioned Neville toward the trap door.

Neville waved his hand frantically, calling Hermione over. They both peered down into darkness. They seemed to exchange several hisses and hand motions. With a shrug, Neville jumped through the trapdoor.

He faintly heard Neville say, "It's safe."

That seemed to be all the encouragement Hermione needed to jump through as well. With a mental shrug Harry followed after checking that the dog was still asleep.

"Everybody all right?" asked Harry.

"I think so," said Hermione. "Wait-the thing we landed on is-"

"Trying to strangle you, I know already," came Neville's voice. "It's devil's snare. Just relax and use your wand to create fire. It should let us go."

Soon enough they were past the room with the flying keys. They'd won the game of chess, but Hermione had to be sacrificed. After checking to make sure she was all right, Neville and Harry walked past an unconscious troll and up to a table, fire springing up behind them.

Harry read the riddle, then said, "Neville, drink this and stay with Hermione. There's only enough left to get one of us through the flames in front of us."

After a long moment, Neville took the offered potion.

She was dreaming again. One of those strange dreams about the black haired boy. He was in a stone chamber this time. Behind him she could see strange flames, and farther back a table.

He walked through a doorway into another chamber. A man stood in the center of the room, looking at a mirror. He seemed to be saying something, but her attempts at lip reading were unsuccessful. The feeling of unease was back. The man made her just as frightened as the cloaked figure had.

As the boy and man talked, she looked around, eyes eventually resting on the mirror. She wasn't sure how long she'd been looking at the image, but when she next turned to look at the boy, he had a blaster out, pointed at the man. No, not at the man, at the face coming out of the back of the man's head.

The boy shot twice. As the man fell to the floor, the face in the back of his head disappeared. She watched in confusion as some sort of spirit flew off.

Jaina put her arms around her legs and curled up in the corner of her bed. They didn't seem like dreams. But they couldn't be Force Visions. Those were images of the future. She was sure that whatever she had seen has been happening at the moment she saw it.

Was it possible to get visions about what was happing in the present? She thought about asking Aunt Mara or Uncle Luke, but quickly threw that idea away. Jaina didn't want to explain the reason for her curiosity.

Neville, Harry and Hermione were once more holed up in one of the secret rooms they'd found several months earlier. This particular room on the seventh floor could become anything a person wanted under specific conditions. Which was why they'd brought Hermione with them.

The room currently resembled the hospital wing. Neville and Harry had already treated her to the best of their ability with what the room had provided.

"You-know-who? Are you sure?"

"He took off his turban and talked to me," snapped Harry. "Of course I'm sure. I managed to take down Quirrell, but Moldyshorts escaped."

"Take down Quirrell?"

"I did what was necessary." Harry shook his head. "When a guy gives his body to the Dark Tosser, he deserve what he gets."

"Do we tell Hermione?"

"She came with us, she deserves to know what she got herself into." Harry glanced away. "We need to get back to the dorm before morning. They can't know we're the ones that went through their obstacle course."

They were mostly silent on the way back to London. In the week and a half since Harry took on Voldemort (and shot him with a blaster. Harry was still rather proud of that), they'd discussed everything from how the man had survived to where he'd been hiding to the implications of "you-know-who" still being alive.

Now they were thinking of what they would soon tell their parents or grandmothers. It had already been decided that Neville's grandmother needed to be informed (she was politically powerful) as did Harry's grandmother. But Hermione's parents would not be told. According to her they'd pull her from school if they found about Voldemort.

Harry was quite sure that his grandmother would insist on continuing his training at an even more difficult level once they left Earth. She might even call in some of the people who owed her favors to help.

At least he'd be able to keep in contact with Neville and Hermione. On his grandmother's instruction, he'd rented a post office box from Diagon Alley. All of his mail would be taken to his box in the post office next to Gringotts. Once dropped into the box it would be portkeyed to a box in Harry's possession. Anything he wanted to mail would be placed into his box, where it would then be portkeyed to the post office and sent off.

According to his grandmother, portkeys were not effected by distance, no matter how great. Which meant that despite being halfway across the galaxy, he'd still get his mail on a regular basis.

Curious about what type of blaster the boy had used, Jaina soon ended up at Aunt Mara and Uncle Luke's apartment. It wasn't so much the blaster itself that drove her to seek help, but the knowledge that the type of blaster might be a clue as to the identity of the boy.

She'd tried looking it up on her own, but she had no idea where to start. Not to mention Jacen and Anakin's continual questions about why she was so interested in blasters.

"Are you thinking of getting your own blaster?" asked Aunt Mara. "I believe your parents think you're a little young for that."

"I'm ten, not a baby," said Jaina. "And I don't want a blaster. I want to find out what type of blaster I saw."

"And where did you see this blaster?'

"Well…" said Jaina, trying not to think of the dreams. "This boy and he had this blaster and-"

"Oh, oooh," said Aunt Mara, a small smile on her face. "Was he a cute boy?"

Jaina felt blood rush to her cheeks. "I-I just want to know-"

"What type of blaster he had." Aunt Mara motioned her over to the computer. "Let's see what we can find. Can you describe it for me?"

It took well over two hours, but Jaina was eventually able to identify the blaster as a KYP-21 blaster pistol. Jaina never once noticed the look that passed over her aunt's face when the blaster was identified. Nor did she notice when Aunt Mara used the Force to contact Uncle Luke, asking him to see if he could get out of his meetings early.