Disclaimer: Playing in Rowling's and Lucas's sandbox. They own the toys; We're just having fun.
Previously on Chapter 1
Approaching the perilous event horizon, a haunting whisper, a familiar guide throughout the years, resonated in his ears, "Find her Chosen". And with that, Anakin Skywalker, 'The Hero with No Fear' and the Chosen One, was engulfed by the malevolent pull of the black hole. The question of survival now hung in the balance, determined solely by the unfathomable will of the Force.
Chapter 2: Destiny
Harry's eyes snapped open, heart pounding in his chest, the remnants of a vivid nightmare lingering. Sweat coated his body, and his breath came in ragged gasps. The recurring torment had haunted him every night since his return to Privet Drive.
He is back in the Department of Mysteries, surrounded by Death Eaters, spells flying in the air. He saw Sirius, his eyes wide with shock as he almost seemed to fall in slow motion into the Veil, his body distorting until it fades away. He remembers shouting, trying to escape from Remus' grasp, to do anything, anything at all that would bring his godfather back.
"Sirius," he whispered, the pain still fresh. "No."
He remembers running after Bellatrix, the mad witch laughing and shooting spells as she ran through the Ministry. When he finally manages to confront her, all he hears are her taunts, her cruel lips curled into a sadistic grin.
"Itty, bitty Potter," she cackled. "What have we here? The Boy Who Lived, come to avenge his godfather?"
Harry glared at her, his eyes filled with hatred. "You'll pay for this," he growls.
He raises his wand and points it at Bellatrix. "Crucio!"
But the spell doesn't work. Harry felt the spell fizzle and die in his wand.
"What's wrong, Potter?" Bellatrix taunts. "Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" she yells. She has abandoned her baby voice now. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it - righteous anger won't hurt me for long - I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson -"
Harry's anger boils over. He lunges at Bellatrix, but she is too quick for him. She dodges his attack and sends a blast of red light at him.
Harry is thrown backwards with such force that he slams against the wall, his head snapping back. He slumps to the ground, his vision blurring.
And then the setting changed. He was back at the graveyard. Surrounded by Death Eaters and in a fierce duel with none other than the Dark Lord himself.
"Bow to Death, Harry," Voldemort said.
Harry tried to speak, but his voice was caught in his throat. He could only watch in horror as Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at his forehead.
He wakes up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. He sits up, his heart racing. He tries to calm himself down, but the images from his nightmare linger in his mind. He looks around his room, trying to find comfort in the familiar surroundings. But he feels trapped within the piles of junk, stuck without the company of his faithful owl. All he feels is alone.
Harry got out of bed and went to the window. He looked out at the dark street below. Sleep had eluded him since that night. The nightmares, a constant companion.
He thought about Sirius, and the pain in his chest intensified. He had lost his godfather, the only person who had ever truly loved him unconditionally. And it had all been his fault.
Harry turned away from the window and went back to his bed. He lay down and closed his eyes, but sleep still wouldn't come. He kept seeing Sirius's lifeless face, and Voldemort's twisted smile.
He was going to die. He knew that. But he refused to go down without a fight.
He would avenge Sirius. He would defeat Voldemort.
No matter what.
He remembered after the Triwizard Tournament, when he had been plagued with memories of failing Cedric, how Sirius had always been there for him. He had sat down on the edge of the bed and wrapped him in a hug. Harry had cried into Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius had stroked his hair and told him that everything would be okay.
"You'll never be alone again, Harry," Sirius had said.
But now Sirius was gone. And Harry was all alone in the world.
He clenched his fists. He couldn't keep fighting for a world that had failed him. The wizarding world had turned its back on him, and on Sirius. They had chosen to believe Voldemort's lies over Harry's truth.
A wave of anger washed over Harry. He felt like screaming. He wanted to punch something, anything. But he knew that wouldn't help. He needed to stay calm and focused. Harry turned and went back to staring at the ceiling. He had a lot to think about.
Harry sat up at the sound of Vernon Dursley's bellowing voice. "BOY! Get out of bed and get to work!"
Harry sighed and rolled over, trying to ignore his uncle's demands. But Vernon was relentless. He continued to shout until Harry finally got out of bed. He went downstairs and found Vernon waiting for him outside the kitchen. Vernon was a large, imposing man with a thick mustache and a permanent frown on his face. He was wearing a purple dressing gown and slippers.
"What took you so long?" Vernon demanded, while roughly thrusting a piece of paper at him
Vernon had handed Harry a list of chores, and Harry scanned the items. Scrubbing floors, weeding the garden, cleaning windows...it was the usual routine. He spent the next few hours toiling away, his anger simmering with every stroke of the scrubbing brush. He knew that the Dursleys were trying to demean him, but he refused to give them the satisfaction.
As Harry scrubbed the kitchen floor, his mind raced with doubts. Just like the previous summer, his friends had once again chosen to keep him out of the loop. Hedwig, who had been his sole connection to the wizarding world, had not returned since he sent her off with letters to Ron and Hermione.
"Where are you, Hedwig?" The unanswered question echoed in the silence of the empty house, an empty space left by the absence of familiar hoots and the rustle of his familiar's feathers.
The emptiness extended beyond his faithful companion. No letters from Ron complaining about the Chudley Cannons or Hermione's familiar rants to complete his homework. His friends who had once been constant companions now seemed a distant memory. 'Maybe it was because they got hurt because of me', remembering the nasty curse hitting Hermione. The guilt and the weight on his young shoulders multiplied by their silence.
"They had promised me they would never keep secrets from me again after last summer", Harry said under his breath. "And here they go again. And as if that wasn't enough they also went ahead and took Hedwig!"
Hedwig had been Harry's sole confidant in this accursed house, his oldest and most loyal friend. And after Sirius' death, and the betrayal of his so-called best friends, probably the only person left in this world who did not care if he was the Child of the Prophecy or not, one he could always depend on. Her presence had alleviated some of the loneliness he had felt, but they had to go ahead and take that little source of comfort away too.
The once-strong bonds which held the Golden Trio together now seemed frayed, its threads unravelling in the face of unanswered questions and growing doubts.
Harry knew he was facing a crossroad. The events of the past month, along with his effective lockdown at the hands of the Order of the Phoenix, had paved the way for his guilt to turn into simmering rage. As the isolation deepened, he had found his mind wandering to darker thoughts. A vindictive confidence whispered that he could easily subject that psychotic Lestrange to the Cruciatus, making sure that she would taste the same agony she had inflicted upon poor Neville's parents. The line between right and wrong blurred in the haze of his anger, fanned by his desire for revenge.
"It's all my fault," he whispered to the still air, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand regrets. As his mind recollected the events with excruciating detail, it felt as though he was probing the raw edges of a wound, each memory a jagged shard cutting deeper. The Department of Mysteries, the prophecy, and Sirius' fall—all fragments of a shattered reality. The boy who had once faced dragons and dark wizards fearlessly, now found himself ensnared in the intricate web of his own fears.
"You're not a bad person, Harry," echoed the voice of his late godfather, Sirius Black. "You're a good person to whom bad things have happened to. The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters are the parts we choose to act on. That's who we really are."
Harry's heart clenched at the memory of Sirius' words. He had been so lost in his anger and despair that he had forgotten Sirius' belief in him.
"But what if I can't resist the darkness?" Harry asked himself, his voice trembling. "What if I become just like Voldemort?"
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew that Sirius was right. He couldn't let the darkness consume him. He had to fight for the light. Harry had a choice to make. And he knew what choice he had to make. Harry would not become Voldemort. He would not let the darkness win. He would fight for the light, no matter the cost.
Harry was still in the kitchen, slaving over the stove, when the Dursleys barged in. Dudley, like a human wrecking ball, slammed into Harry, toppling him over and sending a plate of food shattering on the floor.
"You freak!" Aunt Petunia screeched, her anger exploding like a wildfire. "You've ruined my damn china and spilled Vernon's dinner!"
Uncle Vernon, his face flushed with fury, bellowed, "Now you've done it, boy!" His meaty hand swung with brutal force, connecting with Harry's cheek in a vicious backhand.
Stars burst in Harry's vision as he staggered backwards, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. The room spun, and he felt lightheaded, as if he were on the verge of collapsing. His fists clenched, the urge to retaliate burning within him. But he forced his magic down, refusing to act just like them. "I will not give in", he whispered to himself.
"What did you say, freak?" Vernon roared, his face purpling with rage, a breath away from Harry's.
"Nothing, Uncle," Harry mumbled, his voice shaky. "I am sorry."
Gasping for air, Harry struggled to his feet, the room still spinning. He felt the sticky warmth of blood on his lip, a painful reminder of his powerlessness. But Harry knew that he was stronger than they thought. He would not let them break him. He was the last Potter, and after the death of Sirius, his only heir. He would do his duty to the Wizarding World, but after that, good luck finding him. He had enough of being waited on hand and foot one moment, and for the people to do a complete one-eighty and start hating and vilifying him the next. His second and fourth years at Hogwarts were enough to know that the Wizarding World would never fully accept him, after all he was but a lowly half-blood raised as a Muggle.
So, if he did not belong to the Wizarding World, and by the Dursley's actions, he did not belong to the Mundane World, where did he actually belong?
Harry finished cleaning up the mess and placed the broken plate in the sink. He turned and walked away, his head held high. He didn't wait for the Dursleys' response. He knew what they would say. They would call him names and belittle him. But he didn't care. He had had enough.
He walked up the stairs to his room and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the door and took a deep breath. He was safe here. The Dursleys couldn't hurt him here.
He lay down on his bed and let his mind wander. Where did he belong? He didn't know the answer. But he knew one thing for sure. He would not be controlled by the Wizarding World. He would find his own way.
He would be Harry Potter, the son of James and Lily Potter, the godson of Sirius Black. And he would do what he had done best until now, survive.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt the anger and resentment within him slowly fading away. He was Harry Potter, and he was strong. He would get through this.
Harry was about to fall asleep when he felt a change in the air. It was as if a heavy weight had blanketed the room. He sat up in bed, his heart pounding in his chest. "What's going on?" he whispered to himself.
He got out of bed and went to the window. He looked out at the night sky, but there was nothing to see. The moon was full and the stars were shining brightly. Suddenly, a whisper drifted into Harry's consciousness. "Find his Chosen One."
'Must have imagined that,' thought Harry.
But the voice returned, a bit more insistent this time. "Find his Chosen One". The words were soft and melodic, but they carried a sense of urgency. Harry could feel that they were important, but didn't know what they meant. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He tried to remember if he had heard the voice before. But his mind was blank. He opened his eyes and looked around the room. The heavy feeling in the air was gone.
He tried to go back to sleep, but questions ran through his mind. 'Find his Chosen One.' Who was his? And who was I supposed to find? Harry did not have the answers to these questions, but he knew one thing for sure. He was going to find out.
The Ebon Hawk emerged from the swirling depths of a distant black hole, battered and bruised by its journey through space. As the ship exited the distorted tunnel, an eerie stillness settled within its metallic walls. Anakin Skywalker, strapped into the pilot's seat, shook off the lingering effects of his journey, his senses struggling to adapt.
The once chaotic cockpit now resembled a scene frozen in time. Anakin's usual ease in a ship gave way to disorientation as he glanced at the inert forms of C-3PO and R2-D2. The ceaselessly chattering droids were now silent.
Anakin unbuckled himself from the pilot's chair, his limbs heavy with the strange gravitational residue of the black hole. He cautiously moved through the dimly lit corridors of the Ebon Hawk, taking count of the damage suffered by the vessel. The Force, usually a guiding ally, now felt muted.
Anakin attempted to reach out with the Force, trying to sense any disturbance or anomaly. The ship, though scarred by the journey, emanated a peculiar aura—one that resonated with the remnants of the black hole's energy. It was then that Anakin realised that he had survived what none before him had.
Anakin muttered to himself as he tinkered with the ship's power console, "Well, that was one wild ride. This was worse than that ride on Geonosis. Note to self: avoid random back holes in the future."
As he rerouted power to their circuits, C-3PO's eyes flickered back to life. "Oh my! Master Anakin, I feel as if I've just been through a rather disorienting podracing crash. What happened?"
Anakin smirked, appreciating the droid's flair for dramatic descriptions. "We've taken a detour, Threepio. An unexpected one. As for what happened, well, let's just say our ship decided to take a shortcut through the universe."
The familiar beeps of R2-D2 joined the conversation, the astromech droid expressing its electronic sentiments. Anakin patted his dome affectionately. "Good to have you back as well, Artoo. I'll need your navigational skills to figure out where exactly we are."
The droids, now fully awake, buzzed and whirred in what seemed like a mix of confusion and curiosity. Anakin, in his element amidst the hum of rekindled machinery, couldn't help but feel a camaraderie with his mechanical companions. Together, they would face all issues which would arrive and get back to Padme, even if they had to cross the galaxy to do that. Anakin gestured toward the viewport, the unfamiliar landscape stretching beyond. "Alright, you two, time to put those sensors to good use. See if you can figure out our current coordinates. I need to know where we stand in the galaxy."
The astromech beeped in agreement, its sensors whirring into action. Meanwhile, Anakin worked on the communication array, attempting to establish contact with Padme on Naboo. However, all he received was static, as if her holo-frequency no longer existed.
As the droids diligently scanned the surroundings, Anakin's thoughts now danced between the possibilities. Were they still in Republic space, or had this detour taken them to the uncharted territories of the Outer Rim? The galaxy was vast, and each corner held its own secrets—some welcoming, others perilous.
"Anything yet?" Anakin inquired, his eyes flickering between the droids and the shifting panorama outside. The response from R2D2 was merely confusion. Anakin sighed, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon him. Whatever lay ahead, he knew he would face it head on, with the Force as his only ally.
C-3PO's golden plating glinted as he turned to Anakin, a mixture of excitement and concern etched on his metallic features. "Master Anakin, the readings are quite perplexing. R2D2 cannot determine our exact location. It's as if the stars themselves have shifted."
R2D2 beeped animatedly, its dome swivelling in a series of rapid movements. Anakin raised an eyebrow, prompting the astromech to elaborate. C-3PO translated with a hint of urgency, "Master Aankin, R2D2 says, while he cannot pinpoint our position, it is highly unlikely we are anywhere near our galaxy. In fact, he seems rather certain we are in uncharted territory."
Anakin sighed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, isn't this just typical. I can't even get lost in the galaxy without it turning into a full-blown spectacle."
As Anakin deftly manipulated the controls, a series of ominous beeps emanated from R2-D2. C-3PO, ever the bearer of worrisome news, translated with a touch of dismay, "Master Anakin, the power backups are failing rapidly. We are on borrowed time, and this ship will not hold together much longer."
Anakin's expression hardened, a glint of determination in his eyes. "Alright, Artoo, we need to find a place to set her down. Scan the vicinity for any sign of a planet or asteroid. Preferably one with breathable air and signs of life. We're not equipped for a prolonged stay in the vacuum of space."
R2-D2's domed head whirred to life as it initiated the scans while C-3PO pottered around in anxiety. Anakin leaned over the console, eyes glued to the flickering holographic display. The ship groaned under the strain, its systems protesting.
The droids beeped and whirred, relaying information to Anakin. "R2D2 has found something," C-3PO translated. "A planet, not too far from our current trajectory. It seems to have a stable atmosphere and signs of life. Shall I ask R2D2 to plot the course, Master Anakin?"
Anakin nodded, his jaw clenched with the weight of their precarious situation. "Do it, Threepio. We're in for a bumpy ride, but it beats the alternative."
As the ship hurtled towards the unknown planet, lights flickering and systems failing, Anakin couldn't shake the feeling that their unplanned detour might just be the beginning of a new chapter—one written in the stars of an alien sky.
Anakin, hands flying across the control panel, manipulated the ship's trajectory with a seasoned precision that spoke of skill born out of countless journeys.
"Threepio, Artoo, we're going to set course for that star system over there," Anakin declared, pointing towards a distant cluster of stars. "It seems like it has eight planets. We'll aim for the third one. Scan it and see if it's suitable for us."
R2D2's sensors whirred to life, scanning the distant star system. C-3PO translated the droid's findings with a hint of enthusiasm, "Master Anakin, the third planet appears to have an atmosphere conducive to life, with oxygen and a variety of biosigns. Should we chart a course for that planet?"
Anakin nodded, his eyes fixed on the star system as it grew larger on the viewscreen. The ship maneuvered through the cosmic expanse, navigating past celestial bodies and gravitational anomalies. Anakin's expert piloting skills ensured a smooth journey through the vastness of space despite the extensive damage to the craft.
As they approached the star system, the planets bathed in the light of the distant sun started getting closer. "Prepare for entry into the star system," Anakin announced, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. The ship continued its descent, passing through the outer reaches of the system. Massive ice giants with rings that stretched for miles marked the outskirts, their frozen beauty contrasting with the fiery storms of gas giants further in.
Anakin adjusted the ship's course as they navigated the asteroid belt, dodging rocky debris that could spell disaster for the Ebon Hawk. The occasional burst of thrusters and the low hum of the ship's systems resonated through the cockpit.
As they approached the inner planets, Anakin's gaze fixed on a distant red orb. The ship descended further, and the reddish hue of the planet dominated the view. The ship ventured closer to the blue and green world—though none aboard were aware of the significance it held in the loom of fate. Anakin's connection with the Force subtly guided their trajectory, and the ship descended towards the third planet, its surface adorned with oceans and continents awaiting exploration.
As the ship breached Earth's atmosphere, the landscape below revealed itself—vast oceans, sprawling continents, and a palette of greens and blues that mirrored the familiar beauty of Naboo. Anakin's breath caught in his chest as the similarities struck him. The connection between the two worlds was uncanny, and for a moment, he felt transported back to Naboo with Padme.
The ship, guided by Anakin's skilled hand, maneuvered into a low Earth orbit. The breathtaking view of Earth from space stirred a mix of emotions within him. Memories of Padmé flooded his mind—the warmth of her smile, the softness of her touch. Earth, in its pristine beauty, evoked the bittersweet nostalgia of a planet he wished to one day call home.
As Anakin piloted the ship into orbit, the threads of destiny continued to weave their intricate dance, connecting the destinies of galaxies far, far away, in ways Anakin could not yet fathom. The mysteries of Earth beckoned, and Anakin, a stranger in a strange land, prepared to explore the unknown.
Anakin's contemplative gaze shifted from the panoramic view of Earth to the holographic star map. "Artoo, keep scanning for any signs of advanced technology or intelligent lifeforms. We need to gather information before making any decisions."
The astromech droid beeped in acknowledgment, its dome swiveling as it diligently scanned the surroundings. Anakin, with a sense of determination, turned his attention back to the controls, plotting their course.
C-3PO, still observing the unfamiliar terrain, voiced his concern. "Master Anakin, is it wise to venture into an unknown planet without a clear plan? "
Anakin, a hint of uncertainty on his face, replied, "Threepio, we've faced worse odds in the galaxy. Besides, it's not like we have a choice. Now that we're here, we need to adapt. We'll do what we do best: play it by the ear."
With a newfound purpose, Anakin guided the ship in its orbit, ready to unravel the mysteries of Earth and forge unexpected alliances in this uncharted corner of the cosmos. The threads of destiny continued to weave, and the convergence of galaxies held the promise of both challenges and discoveries for the Jedi and his loyal droids.
"Master Anakin, R2D2 has completed scanning the planet. It appears we've arrived at a rather strange place. This planet also seems to be inhabited by humans. But quite surprisingly, preliminary scans show upwards of 5 billion humans living on this small planet. It also seems to lack the advanced technology we're accustomed to. Are we sure we will be able to repair the starship on such a primitive planet?"
"I don't know, Threepio," replied Anakin. "But as of now, we're out of options. This ship can't run for too long, and there are no other hospitable planets in this system. Moreover, I can see some artificial satellites in orbit. Maybe the people here are just taking their first steps in achieving interstellar travel. If they've done that without any help from the Republic or the Jedi, they could be worthy allies."
Just as Anakin voiced his thoughts, various lights and sounds erupted from the ship. "What's wrong, Artoo?" asked Anakin.
The little droid made a series of beeps and whistles, emitting a distressed vibe. "We've lost the final backup power on the ship, Master Anakin! And we're caught in the gravitational influence of the planet. We're going to crash! We're going to die. I am not ready to die, Master Anakin!" wailed C3PO.
Anakin, a skilled flyer, relied on his instincts as he took manual control of the ship. The planet's surface loomed closer, and Anakin's hands danced across the control panel. R2D2 beeped urgently, its domed head swivelling as it monitored the critical situation.
"Easy, Artoo," Anakin reassured, though an undercurrent of uncertainty lingered. "We've been in worse situations." With urgency, he manipulated the controls, attempting to find a balance between descent and control.
With the ground coming closer, Anakin expertly manoeuvred the ship. With the last vestiges of power, he executed precise adjustments to the ship's trajectory. The descent transformed into a controlled glide. The ship skimmed the treetops, narrowly avoiding catastrophe.
The landing, while not graceful, showcased Anakin's unparalleled flying skills. The ship skidded to a halt in a clearing between the trees, concluding its journey through displaced dimensions with a turbulent arrival on the unfamiliar planet. Anakin, breathing a sigh of relief, surveyed the surroundings. The air felt different, the energy of the Force diminished but resonating with a distinct harmony.
C-3PO, still flustered by the abrupt landing, exclaimed, "Master Anakin, that was quite the harrowing experience! I must say, your piloting skills are truly extraordinary."
Anakin, a wry smile playing on his lips, acknowledged the compliment. "Sometimes you need more than a functioning hyperdrive to navigate the unknown. Now, let's see where we are and what this primitive world has in store for us."
Anakin stepped out of the ship and onto the unfamiliar terrain, flanked by his loyal droids. He was shocked at the abundance of nature around him, used to the almost industrial nature of Coruscant. He fished out the artifact from his pocket, having a basic idea of what it did and how to read it.
The crystal, now with a noticeable crack, pointed in the direction of the single yellow-orange sun this planet seemed to have.
"Artoo, stay here. See if you can work on the repairs and rerouting the power. Threepio, come with me. Let's see if we can find some of the natives of the planet to help us. Or if we can find out how to return home. That way we get back to Naboo," Anakin said.
As Anakin and C3PO began their trek due west, the sun dipped low. The forest gave way to grassland, and the two space-farers stumbled upon odd-looking buildings. Structures lined up on the side of what was supposedly a road made of an unknown substance. Were these, perhaps, residences?
The strange thing was that all these residences looked exactly the same, the only difference being the spread of grass in front of them and some odd markings on the front walls themselves.
"Where the hell did we end up?" Anakin asked C3PO.
As Anakin and C3PO navigated the peculiar location, he could almost feel the steadfast presence of the Force guiding his steps. The energy pulsated with a familiar resonance, and an unspoken connection drew him toward an ordinary-looking residence. Meanwhile, in the shadows, Magic subtly weaved her threads around a young wizard named Harry Potter. She whispered through the rustling leaves, guiding Harry to step out into the evening air, while the Force nudged Anakin toward the heart of this peculiar neighbourhood.
The two worlds were on the brink of a collision, orchestrated by these silent cosmic entities, neither Force nor Magic revealing their existence, yet intricately entwining the destinies of the Jedi and the wizard. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the stage was set for a cosmic dance, a convergence of realms that would forever alter the fates of galaxies far, far away.