The candlelight shimmered against his crimson chassis as HK-47 stalked through the halls of the castle, hidden by night, with a pair of heavy blasters torn from Cassus Fett's lifeless corpse in each hand.
The very fact that flame was used to illuminate the corridors irritated the assassin droid. He was of a specialized make, constructed and programmed by his master, Revan himself; responsible for the deaths of countless Mandalorian officers, Republic senators, Jedi knights, uppity Sith acolytes, and anyone who paid his master slight. Yet here he was, infiltrating a castle on a backwater planet on the edges of the outer rim, a planet whose squishy, humanoid inhabitants have barely mastered rudimentary space flight.
The indignity of it all chafed the droid's circuits as he neared the portrait concealing the door of his quarry. However, he would obey. The portrait of the fat, female meatbag slumbered, actively, as HK-47 neared, a fact he was sure would intrigue his master. Though he was a droid, he was frequently in his master's council, and he listened. He was well aware of the limits of both the Force and technology, and these moving miracles on canvas, neither possessing any higher tech, nor Sith or Jedi talents, intrigued him greatly, even as he questioned the sanity of his master's organic mind. The programmed assassination protocol had him advance, regardless.
He decided to test this unknown 'painting' with his vibroblade.
He won, relishing in the screams of the somehow-sentient painting as the ultrasonic vibrations effortlessly sheared through canvas and wood alike, and revealed the pathway beyond.
His optical sensors took in all as he advanced into a large room, filled to bursting with red seating units, bookshelves, and further living paintings. HK-47's gaze was drawn to an enormous fire, more than ten meters high, built into the wall.
The assassin droid, for not the first time, wished Revan had programmed within him the ability to scoff, though he knew not why he was surprised. The only thing worse than meatbags were primitive meatbags, and these had to be truly primitive to rely upon flame for warmth and paper for text. He was so pre-occupied with his derisive thoughts that he failed to realize that the fire lacked fuel; it simply burned, seemingly on nothing.
Turning his attention to the spiral staircase across the room, he began his silent trek towards his prey. As he reached the primitive lift, he was suddenly thrown back. Even as the specialized gyroscope embedded in his chassis assured that he would land on his legs, his optics focused on the new intruder, a tiny creature wearing what appeared to be… a worn bag of some sort.
"You shall not harm Harry Potter."
Bemused, he replied, "Query: What form of being are you, and how are you aware of my quarry?"
The being narrowed its eyes, "I am being Dobby, and you shall not harm Harry Potter."
With that, more concussive force, rivaling that of a military grade grenade, hammered into HK-47. Again landing on his legs, blaster shots were his reply.
Amazingly, the being disappeared with a spin and a pop, and the shots met with the wall's stone, sparks flying. Before the droid could process this, another attack impacted his back, making him crash into the wall.
As he rose to his feet, he saw the diminutive creature's smug impression, saw his crossed arms.
Fully erect, his arm extended and wrist joint flaring, and the air became fire. HK-47 continued the onslaught for several seconds, incinerating much of the room beyond his target even as his other hand sprayed blaster fire.
"Statement: It appears that you are no longer in any position to stop me, you tiny, crispy meatbag."
As he finished his gloating, his optical sensors noted movement above. As he raised his head, he saw the infuriating creature perched on a candlelight fixture, the device swaying beneath his weight.
Before he could raise his blasters, another batch of force impacted him, unable to harm him, but far more than enough to inconvenience him. He had barely risen to his feet when he was impacted again, this time by a gargantuan chunk of stone. Processors ringing and compensating from the impact, he rose his blasters and indiscriminately carpeted the area with fire, desiring that one blast of plasma would catch his opponent.
A squeaky voice disillusioned that hope. .
He used the reprieve to analyze the being which had dropped to the floor. It was breathing heavily, and though it was clearly fatigued, the resolve in its eyes did not waver.
"Statement: Foolish meatbag, I can see even now how you tire. You lack the ability to maintain your usage of the Force, and even if you could, I cannot be dismantled so easily."
The being snapped its fingers, and HK-47 found himself being bombarded by more stone. He fell, loudly and without ritual.
But then he rose, the Telosian plasteel that comprised his outer shell, reinforced by composite plating, easily weathering the blows. He was a Jedi-hunter. The being assaulting it was strong in the Force, but without a lightsaber, it was merely a matter of time. His left blaster rose, peppering the location with fire, as his other arm lifted towards the chandelier and blanketed the area with specialized waves, hoping that the creature had retreated back up to the chandelier.
He was rewarded as he noticed the organic being plummet to the ground, paralyzed by his neural pacifier.
"Exclamation: That outcome exceeded calculated probabilities. Suggestion: Next time, try not be so predictable. Addendum: Oh, wait…"
HK-47 may have exceeded the heat sink capabilities of his blasters during that… satisfying salvo.
Being beyond the satisfaction of further gloating, and resolving to inform his master about the capabilities of the non-human force users of this world, the machine turned back towards the stairway, inexorably marching towards his target.
But he was halted.
A tall, humanoid creature suddenly materialized within his path, arm raised and with a stick pointed towards him. Blasters raised as a reflex, he took in the humanoid's appearance: animated stars and moons danced along his robes, and a beard hung down to his waist. HK-47 was dragged from his observations by a cold, sure voice.
"I know not what you are, why you are here, nor why you have slain that house elf, but I must insist that you leave my school. Immediately."