911Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. Star Wars is owned by Disney. I am neither a British woman nor an animated mouse. Thus I do not own nor do I claim ownership of either Harry Potter or Star Wars and I am not profiting in any way through the writing and publication of this story.
Holocron
II
Sunday, August 16, 1987
Uncle Vernon roughly threw Harry into the cupboard under the stairs and slammed the door shut.
"And stay in there, you little freak!" he shouted as the bolt slid over to its locked position. "Trying to lead our Dudley into the caves to get lost! You'll be lucky if I ever let you see the light of day again!"
Harry could feel the floorboards reverberate as his uncle stomped off in a fury.
The Dursleys had not taken Harry's disappearance from the tour group and his subsequent reappearance well. Apparently he had embarrassed them in front of the others as neither his uncle nor his aunt had noticed that he was missing until the guide stopped to take a head count. Petunia and Vernon had to suffer through more than one sneer from condescending park rangers as they organized search parties.
The fact that Harry was now something of a minor celebrity with the rangers since he managed to calmly find his own way out of the Labyrinth, and was treated by them to a small celebration, only added insult injury.
Dudley, of course, had spun a tale about how Harry had attempted to lure him into the depths to do something unspeakable to him. Aunt Petunia seemed to think it was only by an act of Divine Providence that her son had made it through the ordeal in one piece.
And then there was the trip home. Harry was honestly surprised that they survived the long car ride. Between what amounted to a sleepless night for three of them (Dudley had no trouble nodding off while Harry was missing), Vernon's enraged shouting, Petunia's shrill hysterics, and Dudley's taunting, it was a miracle that they hadn't crashed. As soon as they arrived at Privet Drive, Harry was forcefully thrown into his cupboard.
He was sure that he was in for several unpleasant days ahead.
Harry tried to lie perfectly still so as to not draw any attention to himself or provoke any further violence from his relatives. The best he could probably hope for at the moment was for them to ignore him. His only hesitant movement was to bring his hand up to press against the back of his head where it had bounced off the back wall of the cupboard when Vernon had thrown him in.
He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing as he lay curled up on his thin mattress. His relatives were noisily going about their evening, unpacking their belongings and preparing something to eat after their long ordeal. Harry tried to push them out of his mind and focus on getting some much needed rest.
Surprisingly, it did not take him long to fall asleep.
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Harry stirred awake some unknown time later. There was something digging into his thigh rather uncomfortably. He stayed perfectly still for a moment as his eyes turned toward the door. There wasn't any light coming from the crack at the bottom – that meant it must be nighttime and that his relatives were asleep.
Reassured that he could move around a bit without drawing unwanted attention to himself, Harry rolled over to move off of whatever was jabbing his leg. He reached into his pocket to see what it was. He pulled out a small, blue cube.
The Holocron.
I'd almost forgotten about that, Harry thought to himself. So much had happened since he had emerged from the caves, and he was so focused on drawing as little attention to himself as possible, that he hadn't spared a second thought for the strange device that had likely saved his life.
The light of the Holocron was still nothing more than a dim speck at the heart of the crystalline cube. He turned it over in his hand and nervously glanced at the door once again. It would definitely be a risk, but he just felt like he had to try speaking to the strange thing again.
He closed his eyes and summoned his courage before opening them again and focusing all of his senses on the Holocron. He slowed his breathing, and tried to reach out to the Force as he had when he was looking for the path out of the caves, but instead of looking outward for help, he was now trying to reach into the little cube.
It took a few minutes, but eventually blue light flared from within the crystal followed by the odd cerulean mist. And then the little figure winked into existence and floated above the Holocron once again.
"I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get you to work," Harry whispered to the figure.
Worry not, youngling, the alien creature's meaning reverberated in Harry's mind even as its soft voice filled the cupboard with unfamiliar sounds, the Force is strong with you. You should not have any trouble accessing this Holocron.
"Why do you call me 'youngling'?"
Is it not what you are? Are you not a juvenile member of the human species?
"You mean, I'm just a kid, right?"
Correct.
"So, it doesn't mean 'freak' or something like that?"
Why would I have reason to refer to you in such a manner?
Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"That's what Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always call me."
I see. Worry not, youngling, this term is used by the Jedi to refer to nearly all sentient species while they are yet in their developmental stages.
"Oh."
Harry just stared at the figure for a moment while he waited for something else to happen. When nothing did, he eventually decided to try saying something else.
"You can call me 'Harry' if you want."
Very well. I shall do so from now on, young Harry.
"What should I call you?"
I am a Jedi Holocron. I have no proper name. Though my holographic image takes the form of Jedi Master Isu Sotr, my creator. Should you feel the need to do so, you may refer to me as 'Master Isu.'
"Okay."
Again, silence filled the tiny space.
"So… what do you want to talk about, Master Isu?"
I was created for the purpose of sharing the wisdom of past Jedi masters with those members of the order that found themselves in need of counsel. You are not a Jedi, young Harry, therefore, it would be inappropriate to share such knowledge with you. It would doubtlessly be beyond your capability to comprehend in any event.
"Oh."
My secondary purpose is to aid in the training of younglings and apprentices in the Jedi Arts. Should you wish, I can assist you in your training.
"My training?"
Your training to master your connection to the Force and realize your potential as a Jedi.
"Okay, let's do that I guess."
Very well. What is your current level of understanding when it comes to knowledge of the Force and the traditions of the Jedi Order?
"Err… only what you've told me, really…"
Then we shall start at the beginning.
There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.
The life of the Jedi finds its source and summit in the Force, an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together…
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Sunday, August 23, 1987
Petunia yanked the door open, letting the harsh morning light invade the tiny space beneath the stairs. She grumbled under her breath when she once again failed to startle her nephew. Instead of scampering back away from her, the freak was calmly sitting on his tattered mattress with his legs crossed beneath him and his eyes closed. He seemed… peaceful.
Petunia didn't like it one bit.
"Wake up, you good for nothing freak!" she screamed at him.
The boy opened his eyes and glanced up at her.
"Good morning, Aunt Petunia. Shall I get started on breakfast then?"
She flung out her arm and silently pointed toward the kitchen. She ground her teeth as the boy quickly sprang to his feet and made his way down the hall. She followed him, hovering over his shoulder like a hawk ready to pounce upon its prey at the first sign of weakness.
There was something off about the boy. Ever since he failed to lose himself in those cursed caves the boy had a different air about him. He was too calm. Too aware of what was around him. The freakishness was no doubt rearing its ugly head early in the child.
She watched as the boy went to the refrigerator and quickly gathered a large pile of ingredients into his arms.
"Be careful, freak," she hollered at him, "if you drop any of those eggs on my floor it'll be your hide!"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he answered. "I'll be careful."
And he was.
She watched as he carried what for anyone else would have been a precarious stack of ingredients over to the countertop while pulling a stool behind him with his foot. If she had tried that there would have quickly been a mess on her freshly polished floor. The freak managed to keep everything perfectly balanced as he set about starting his daily chores by making the family breakfast.
She'd have to keep her eye on him to make sure his freakishness didn't spread and hurt her little Diddy-Dums…
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Tuesday, August 25, 1987
"I've finished pruning the rose bushes, Aunt Petunia," the boy said from the entrance to the kitchen.
Petunia cringed as the sound reached her ears. She scowled at him from her perch at the table where she had been enjoying a cup of tea. She growled when she couldn't see even one tiny scratch on his hands. She had been hoping that the thorns might do something to keep his freakishness at bay.
She looked over to the clock. It was only a quarter to eleven in the morning. She'd already made him wash all the windows, weed the garden, scrub out the garbage cans, and prune the rose bushes. And the daft boy didn't even look tired! She was running out of things for him to do.
Petunia grumbled as she looked down into her tea, realizing that it now looked decidedly less than appetizing.
"Go wander off to the park or something and get out of my hair!"
"What?" the boy asked with a look of confusion.
"I said get out of here and leave me in piece, you little freak!"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," the boy replied as he turned to flee from her presence. She heard him make a quick stop at his 'bedroom' before he hurried out the front door and away from her.
She got up and went to the sink where she poured the remains of her tea down the drain. Her house was immaculate. She'd worked the boy like a slave over the past week. It seemed like he never got tired. She would've been impressed with him if she didn't know that it was all due to his… unnaturalness…
She wouldn't be able to stand it much longer. Maybe she could convince that old harridan Figg to take the boy for a few afternoons? Or perhaps she could leave the freak to his own devices outdoors and away from her…
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Friday, October 16, 1987
"Hey Dud," Piers whispered to his friend from their hiding place behind the bushes, "here he comes."
"Yeah, I see him," Dudley replied.
They were lying in wait for another round of Dudley's favorite afterschool activity – Harry hunting. Piers didn't mind. He always got a kick out of seeing the look of fear on the kid's face. Dudley, however, had been oddly insistent upon tormenting his cousin, especially since the freak started getting perfect scores on all of his assignments. Dudley didn't like getting shown up by his cousin.
Piers carefully took another glance. Potter was slowly drifting down the sidewalk. His eyes were unfocused, as if his mind was off wandering a thousand miles away as he made his way home from school.
Perfect.
"He's totally zoned out," Piers said. "He'll never see us coming."
They waited until their target passed them by so that his back would be toward them. And then they leapt out of hiding.
"Hey freak!" Dudley shouted as he started running, "guess what time it is?"
Potter only spared them one backwards glance before he sprang into motion, sprinting down the sidewalk away from them.
"You're only making it harder on yourself, Potter!" Piers called out as he really started to run. He'd always been fast. His thin, wiry build was perfect for speed, or so his dad always said. Chasing Potter always gave him a thrill.
They kept on running, filled with the resilient energy of youth. But soon Dudley was struggling with labored breathing and even Piers himself was beginning to slow down.
Potter just kept on going.
"When'd your cousin get so bloody fast?"
"Dunno," Dudley managed to gasp out between his panting.
Up ahead, Piers saw Potter turn into one of the alleyways between two shops.
"Ha!" he laughed. "We've got him now! That's a dead end!"
Dudley stopped and bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Piers paid him no mind as he sped up to cut off any chance of Potter realizing his mistake and trying to slip out of the alley. He turned the corner just in time to see his prey still sprinting toward the ten-foot-high brick wall at the far end of the alley.
"Oh this is priceless!" Piers cheered. "Potty's gonna break his face!"
But his laughter was abruptly cut off as he watched the other boy leap into the air and with a tight, forward somersault, arc over the wall and disappear behind it.
"What the…?"
Dudley eventually staggered around the corner as Piers was staring, open-mouthed at the wall.
"Where's the freak?"
Piers turned to stare at his friend.
"Well?"
He pointed at the wall.
"He just did a bloody flip and jumped over the wall."
"Don't be daft," Dudley answered. "Where's he hiding?"
"I'm telling you, he jumped over the wall!"
"That thing is ten feet high. Ain't no way a scrawny thing like him could jump it."
"I'm telling you I saw it!"
"Whatever. Let's go. Maybe we can catch up to him at the park."
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Monday, April 4, 1988
"Hey Dud!" Piers called out as he caught sight of his friend coming toward him near the entrance to the park. "Check this out. My dad got it for me for Easter!"
He then proudly presented his new slingshot. It was no child's toy made from a Y-shaped twig and a rubber band. No, this baby had a metal frame, an arm brace, and a high-tension elastic band.
"Whoa," Dudley said as he inspected their new means for wreaking destruction in Little Whinging.
"I bet we can smash out all of Figg's windows from across the street with this!"
"Ha!" Dudley laughed. "That'll be good. Let's go."
Together they picked up a few pebbles and then made their way over toward Wisteria Walk. Along the way, they spotted one of Mrs. Figg's many cats lazing on top of a fence post.
"Wait a minute," Dudley said as he came to a halt. "I've got an idea. Give me the slingshot."
Piers grinned as he caught on and handed it over.
Dudley carefully put a pebble into the leather pouch, pulled back the elastic as far as he could, and took careful aim. A moment later he let the stone fly and watched it speed through the air and strike the cat in one of its rear legs. The poor animal let out a frightened wail as it was spun around before tumbling off the post.
The boys doubled over in laughter.
"Did ja see that?!"
"Great aim, Dud!"
"Did ja see it running away all funny-like after I hit it?!"
"I bet you broke the dumb thing's leg!"
"Serves the bloody thing right!" Dudley nodded as his laughter died down.
Piers thought he saw a wicked gleam come into his friend's eyes as he turned around and started heading back toward the park.
"Where you going? Figg's house is that way!"
"Never mind that. I've got an idea."
They reentered the park and started wandering around. Dudley was obviously looking for something. Piers realized what it was when he saw Potter.
"What's your cousin doing?" he asked. As they watched, Potter was moving about in some sort of fast-paced, acrobatic dance while twirling a long, smooth stick by one end. "He some sort of ballerina now?"
"Who cares," Dudley replied. "This'll take the freak down a peg."
A cold pit of fear settled in Piers' stomach as he watched Dudley load another pebble into the slingshot. They never had managed to catch Potter in any of their sessions of Harry hunting. The kid had just gotten too fast. But Piers also remembered seeing him leap over that wall. He wasn't sure what hitting him with the slingshot would do.
"You sure about this?"
Dudley glared at him.
"What? You in love with the freak now?"
"No! But what if he tells?"
"Who's he gonna tell? My parents hate him, all the teachers think he's a cheat, and none of the other kids can stand him."
"But…"
"Shut up, Piers. I'm gonna nail him."
Piers clicked his mouth shut and watched as Dudley took aim. Potter was oblivious to it all, merely continuing to go through his dance, swinging his stick like it was a ninja sword.
Dudley let the stone fly, and they watched it go. There was a loud clack! as it connected with Potter's stick as he sung it around, seemingly just another part of the dance, and the stone flew off into the trees.
"No way," Dudley said.
"That had to be an accident." Piers added.
"There's no way he did that on purpose. No one could hit something that fast."
"He wasn't even looking."
"Accident. Had to be."
"Try another one."
Again, Dudley took aim and fired.
Again, as Potter's movements flowed into another step, he swung the stick and batted the pebble out of the air.
"What the hell?!"
"How's he doing that?"
"Give me that thing!"
Dudley handed the slingshot back to Piers, who loaded it and took aim.
He shot.
Harry effortlessly swatted the stone away.
"Let me try again," Dudley said.
They spent the next several minutes shooting pebbles at Potter, who in turn gracefully knocked each one away with his stick.
"This is ridiculous!" Dudley cried. "Let's try getting closer."
"But he'll see us!"
"Like he bloody well hasn't already."
They stalked forward and stood out in the open, less than thirty feet from Harry.
"Dud, you might really hurt him if you hit him from this close…"
"That'll serve the freak well!"
Piers watched as Dudley shot another stone. He saw Potter spin around faster than he'd ever seen anyone move before. The stick swung out to meet the stone with a loud clack!
And then there was a soft thud as the pebble flew back and struck Dudley right in the center of his chest.
"Gah!" the large boy cried as he fell to the ground. Tears were starting to form in the corners of his eyes. "Ow! That freaking hurt!"
Piers turned to look at Potter. His eyes widened as he saw that the black-haired boy was standing completely motionless, his stick raised in front of him, as if he was waiting for another attack to come.
The cold knot of fear twisted inside Piers' stomach as he noted the calm but serious look in Potter's eyes.
"Let's get out of here!" he cried to Dudley as he quickly turned around and fled from the park as fast as he could. He didn't even glance back to see if his large friend managed to keep up.
AN: What do you think?
Get used to the time skips. They're going to be a frequent storytelling tool in this work. I figure they provide a means to get the important scenes across without having to rehash all of canon – that's been done before. I figure that if you're reading Harry Potter fan fiction, you're already familiar enough with the basic plot to understand what's going on without me showing you all the familiar beats. If you get confused as the story goes forward, leave me a question in a review.
Speaking of reviews, please leave one on your way out. I'd like to know what you think.
And thanks for reading!