Harry Potter x Star Wars: The Havoc Side of the Force
Synopsis
I have a singularly impressive talent for messing up the plans of very powerful people – both good and evil. Somehow, I'm always just in the right place at exactly the wrong time.
Excerpt
My efforts in studying magical theory have historically – not to mention infamously – been rather poor. During my years of formal education at Hogwarts, I was always far more successful with the practical application of magic rather than the theoretical. I could demonstrate the slight variations on the standard wand movements that enabled a caster to eke out a little more power from a spell, but I couldn't tell you why those very same movements worked better.
While I must take the majority of the blame for this state of affairs, at least a small part of the blame lies with my friends.
One of my best friends was always more interested in coasting through school. He unconsciously trusted that the inherent knowledge obtained from being raised in a purely magical environment would stand him in good stead around exam time. From his influence, I developed poor discipline in my study habits that was distinctly difficult to overcome as I grew older.
Another of my friends was so far on the opposite end of the spectrum that it was a wonder there wasn't some sort of explosion whenever they happened to be in the same room. She would urge, cajole, beg, plead, bribe and even, on one memorable occasion, blackmail me into working hard enough to get far better grades than I deserved. While I will be forever grateful for her foresight, her prodigious abilities allowed me to develop another fundamentally poor study habit. The habit of dependence. For years, whenever I was presented with a problem (schoolwork or otherwise) with no clear solution, I would rely on her to assist me, rather than try to work the solution out for myself. On the few occasions she declined her assistance, my sulking invariably tainted any solution I came up with.
To the surprise of many, including myself, I finally began studying in earnest after my formal education had ended. Once I had a goal in life beyond merely surviving to adulthood, I found that learning about magic was actually enjoyable. Enchanting, as it were. Much of my studying since the end of my Hogwarts career has been around the darker aspects of magic, and how to counteract it. That knowledge enables me to make a positive impact on the world.
Well, that's not quite correct. It would be more accurate to say that I remove some of the many negative impacts on the world. More specifically, I remove the negative impacts also known as dark wizards.
Now, I don't go out and simply kill those who delve deeper than is acceptable into the darker aspects of magic. Well all right, I do. Occasionally. But only if it's necessary. Riddle Junior, for instance. It was necessary for me to kill him. Fate you see. People who actively try to deny their destiny tend to end up reinforcing it. A lesson my nemesis learned first hand.
Honestly, using a Killing Curse on a toddler? He was overcompensating for something, I'm sure.
But, as I said, I don't go around indiscriminately butchering those who prefer curses and hexes to jinxes and charms. It is far more effective to negate the power and influence of dangerous magic users. After all, there was a big difference between someone dangerous, like Lucius Malfoy, and someone less so, like Marvolo Gaunt.
Both wizards were inordinately proud of the fact that they had individuals making appearances on both sides of their family tree. Both were sociopaths who thought that Muggles were a blight upon the earth. And both had, at best, average magical skill.
But the Malfoys (or rather, the Malfoy name) had money and influence behind it. The Gaunts did not.
So, rather than chlorinating the magical gene pool, I remove the negative impacts on society by depriving these bastards of the source of their power. Officially, I'm employed by various ICW members as a consultant to assist them with internal problems stemming from various dark magic users.
But when you say, 'Officially', there is always a corresponding, 'Unofficially', isn't there?
Despite my new-found enjoyment of learning, my more recent studies are stunted by the fact that I rarely get the chance to actually sit down to study. That is to say, I rarely get the chance to sit down to study uninterrupted. And almost without exception, these interruptions all boil down to one single fact.
I am the Master of Death.
Being the owner of all three Deathly Hallows should, in theory, be quite liberating. And it's not bad at all, if I'm completely honest. It's just that, well, it would be so much better if nobody actually knew. In the six years since becoming the Master of the Hallows, I have been obliged to prove, on all too many occasions, that my exam scores at Hogwarts were no indication of my practical magical skill. I have had to fend off attempts (ranging from clumsy to deadly) on my life and wand a couple of times a month. Yes, it gives my life a certain zest, but my 'official' work through the ICW already generates more than enough interest for any not-entirely-sane wizard, thank you very much.
I occasionally find myself wondering if the positives from possessing the Hallows still outweigh the negatives.
The list of benefits is extensive, I will quite happily admit. During the course of many of my gigs, I have all too often found it difficult to convince recalcitrant witches and wizards to reveal information they'd prefer to keep to themselves. One of my natural talents, as Dumbledore himself noted, is the ability to ferret out secrets. Quite often I somehow manage to end up exactly where I need to be to discover what I need to know; a trait that annoys so many people that even Snape would be hard pressed to register in the top quarter of the list. However, it is almost always faster to get the info directly, rather than spend time and effort to discover it surreptitiously.
Other 'governmental consultants' have to take care not to accidentally kill these potential sources of information, while those very same sources are not labouring under reciprocal conditions. This fact makes the truly successful members of my profession very rare. Those who can protect themselves but not keep their information sources alive don't tend to be as successful in their missions. Those who cannot protect themselves while keeping their targets alive usually don't complete their first.
Not me. I'll always do everything practicable to keep the body count as low as possible, unless of course I'm being paid a hefty premium to ensure that my target is never a direct danger ever again. But I possess a ring that allows me to question even those inclined to the suicidal. Dead men do in fact tell tales. To me.
I sort of fell into the contracting game. There wasn't an advertisement in the Prophet or anything like that. After I'd turned Riddle into a country-wide, week-long hangover, the Ministry of Magic had so few trained Aurors left that they could barely keep the Statute of Secrecy in place. The Ministry offered me a position in their ranks despite the fact that I hadn't even sat my NEWTs. I probably would have accepted it too and happily sauntered down a life path that included a red-headed wife, two point five children and a house with a white picket fence, if it hadn't been for one thing.
The idiots in charge decided to risk another Goblin Rebellion™ by claiming as much gold as they could from the vaults belonging to recently extinct family lines. The money pilfered was used to establish a fund from which sizable bounties were offered for each follower of Voldemort captured.
At that point, the only real problem I had was the fact that the offer came into existence after I'd killed the Head Honcho. The decision that changed my life was the Wizengamot shutting down magical border control. They hoped that the surviving members of Team Loser would just take a permanent (or at least, an extended) vacation abroad in less inhospitable climes, out of their jurisdiction and thus, out of their hair.
That decision – and subsequent action – pissed off a lot of people. But the majority of the wizarding world couldn't be more easily led even with rings bolted through their collective noses. They complained for a day or two and then went back about their business.
I however, did not.
Harry Potter x Star Wars: Equilibrium
Synopsis
Ahsoka feeling abandoned, betrayed and disillusioned with the Jedi Order, decided to part ways. She left to find meaning and purpose in her life. She never expected it to come in the form of an enigmatic green eyed young man who had more than a passing interest in the past. She never imagined that learning about the history of the galaxy could be so dangerous—or magical.
Excerpt
Darth Tyranus, more commonly known as Count Dooku of Serenno was feeling what could charitably be called trepidation as he stared out from his quarters on the Invisible Hand into the tumultuous hyperspace void before him.
It had been a month ago when he had felt it—when he presumed that all Force Sensitives had felt it—a great disturbance echoing through the force, precariously close to the Galactic Centre—further into the Deep Core than was safe to travel.
The Deep Core was home to some thirty billion of the galaxy's oldest stars, and at its centre was a super massive black hole surrounded by antimatter and clusters of stars that were only a hundredth of a light year apart. In some areas the stars were in such tight formation that they would collide and rip the cores from one another, reshaping and forming into new celestial bodies.
It made Hyperspace travel precarious at best. The Mass Shadows generated from the stars here were unpredictable. Due to the vast number of stars and prominence of dark matter, local space-time was severely warped. Relying on month old probe data was dangerous at best, suicidal at worst. It made progress slow.
Dooku had been in the Outer Rim in the midst of negotiating the withdrawal of several star systems from the Republic when he had felt the disturbance, and yet, even now he could feel the echo of the disturbance growing ever stronger as they approached the source despite the time that had passed.
Whether it was the will of the force or not to seek out the source of the disturbance, Dooku did not know, but his master had made it very clear that it was his will that it be found. Such was the strength of the disturbance.
There was a certain familiarity to with the disturbance, as Dooku got closer to the source it began to remind him of the devastation and death of large-scale battles, of entire star cruisers being destroyed, and their crew becoming one with the force. But though there was similarity it was not the same, it was too concentrated— too focused— and yet, so vastly deeper.
Dooku's musings were cut short as he felt the ship drop out of hyperspace. There was a brief moment of quiet and stillness before an all-encompassing light seared the Sith Lord's eyes. It only lasted for a brief moment before the phototropic properties of the transparisteel took effect and the large viewports that surrounded him became opaque.
Moments later a hologram of a droid appeared before Dooku from one of the many projectors situated around what had once been the sensor pod for the Invisible Hand, before he had occupied it.
"Sir, we have arrived at our destination," a synthetic voice said through the speakers.
Dooku's lips thinned out and an irritated glint appeared in his eyes. "Clearly," he said.
"Modified Ray Shields are withstanding the intense solar radiation with minimal strain," he holographic droid stated. There was a pause and the droid looked to the side. "We are detecting no foreign bodies. With your permission we will begin redirecting power from the particle shield bolster ray shielding and extend the duration we can maintain our presence."
Dooku remained silent for a long moment before turning toward the throne near the middle of the observation deck and slowly walking over to it. "Very well," he said. "Do so, and begin scans to determine the cause of the…disturbance."
"Roger," the Droid in the hologram agreed before it flickered and vanished, leaving the once Jedi alone once more.
Dooku lowered himself upon his throne and laid his head back, resting it as he closed his eyes and began reaching out through the force, seeking out the source of the disturbance.
This matter had long since passed beyond the realm of professional curiosity. His master had been most insistent that he personally locate the source, insistent to the point of sending the flagship of the Confederacy of Independent Systems' fleet, the Invisible hand, into such perilous territory.
Which of course, he understood the need for. Beyond it being a Sith matter, and thus not something that could be relegated to the lesser, journeying this far into the core required a ship large enough, and a power core strong enough to hold back the immense radiation long enough to seek out the cause.
As the Count of Serenno fell into his trance, and his mind began to unfold, he began to notice something out of place. There was a presence nearby, something he hadn't felt before. It was illusive and impossible to catch, like trying to hold a shadow in the light.
Dooku lost track of time as he sat in his chair, trying to unravel the strange mystery set before him. But all too soon, he was stirred from his mediative trance by a synthetic voice.
"Sir, we have been unable to detect any planetoids, structures or ships in this sector. An hour of time has elapsed and our shielding is down to twenty percent." The voice hesitated for a moment. "Once shields drop below fifteen percent we will begin to sustain critical hull damage and be unable to jump into hyperspace."
The grey haired Sith Lord did not open his eyes "Focus scanning arrays on the starboard side of the ship, twelve degrees below the port bow. There is something there that cannot be felt by the force."
There was silence for some time before, "…Scans have returned positive results." Another brief period of silence. "It appears to be humanoid and organic in nature."
Dooku did not respond straight away. His eyes remain closed and his fingers began to rhythmically drum against the arm of his chair as he contemplated the new information.
It was… unexpected to say the least. He had theorized of many possibilities for what could have caused a disturbance that was felt from the very edges of the galaxy.
There had been detailed accounts of such galactic scale disturbances in the past, and every time one had been felt, it had been traced back to a significant loss of life, the most common form of which resulted from a star going supernova and wiping out the planets within its star system.
The standing theory had been that somehow, a planet had survived and gone undetected since the beginning of the Republic, hidden away within the depths of the Deep Core. It wasn't unheard of for life to appear, though it was extremely unlikely that any such civilizations had ever left their planet of origin.
"Bring it aboard," Dooku finally said, slowly opening his eyes.
There was a moment of silence.
Harry Potter x Star Wars: Discordant
Synopsis
It wasn't the bright and shiny Jewel of the Galaxy you've all seen on the HoloNet. Harry's story started in the Underworld, a kilometer below the upper levels of Coruscant, where you never walk the streets alone, especially if you don't have a blaster hanging by your side. He left for a little while, but now it's called him back, whether he realizes it or not.
Excerpt
16:2 GrS (19 BBY)
"You're Harry'potter, the bounty hunter."
She pronounced my name like that, like any number of species that use apostrophes instead of separating the two names like normal people. Twi'lek are that way on their homeworld. Sometimes I think they do things like this to make themselves sound more exotic or something.
You don't see very many bald human women these days. The occasional one is found, usually in the music or movie industries, but typically they tend to just have very close cropped hair. This one though, she was completely, unequivocally without a hair on her head, from what I could see, save for a set of very thin, highly arched, eyebrows.
The woman didn't wait to be asked before she slid onto the seat opposite me while I slid my drink to the side. From the pair of curved lightsaber hilts attached to her big circular belt buckle I assumed she was a Jedi of some type. Her eyes weren't the red/yellow most times associated with Sith, but that didn't really mean much while there was a war going on.
The Separatists tended to hire any sort of thug and that meant failed Jedi as well. I've seen it happen before, taken down two of them as well. They were between me and my bounty at the time, and they weren't too experienced defending against magic either. I've got the lightsaber hilts to prove it if you're the disbelieving sort. I like collecting things of an esoteric type. You never know when they'll come in handy.
"And you are?" I said as I raised my voice loud enough to be heard over the bad cantina music an out of date Bith band played.
Her seriously pale blue eyes tracked a beige-robed Bothan as he ashed his death stick while passing us. The sharp smell tended to stick around in the still air. Narsk was old and in the same business I was. He only took the easy jobs these days, because of his artificial leg. They cost serious credits to replace and his had been giving him trouble after taking a plasma arrow to the knee while on a particularly trying hunt.
The bald woman ignored my question in lieu of adjusting her own black hood to cover more of her face. "I'm told you can make people… disappear."
This was getting old. I didn't know how many times I'd been approached by Republic and Separatist spies. It was quick money, but there was no fun in altering someone's face and changing their skin color. Sometimes I was asked to make a talisman for less permanent changes, but that was about it. There was no challenge anymore in this galaxy.
"I've heard that too. Depends on whom, not to mention how much you're willing to pay."
Her eyes narrowed when she scowled. It wasn't a pretty sight. As long as her face was neutral she was what I would call exotic looking. Good for a one night stand or even a spaceport fling now and again, but not much else. It's the exotic ones that are seriously ugly when they get older. I mean one minute you're thinking that you've hit the jackpot, because she's got a hot body and can swallow your goods while she's breathing out the side of her neck, and the next thing you know it's ten years later and you're waking up next to a Hutt. For the most part I leave the exotic ones alone – unless there's neck breathing going on. A wizard's got to have his standards.
"Depends on the quality of your work," she shot back at me.
I shrugged and twirled my wand underneath the table. Her skin went a dark shade of black, that really dark black that almost looks purple in the right light. She jerked and stared, virtually stunned, at her fingertips poking out of her gloves. When she pulled up her robe up baring one of her arms I got the reaction I was looking for.
"Not me," she bit off harshly. "I want someone dead, liquefied, shot out of a Corellian Light-Cruiser's waste hold, and floating in the Maw."
Giving a reverse swirl with the wand I returned her natural skin tone to the pale white it was before. If I didn't know any better I'd say she was pureblooded Dathomirian, but they were wiped out a couple of years back. I know; I was there hiding out from the orbital bombardment in a cave. Maybe she was off planet at the time. It happens. Not too often, since they tend to stick to their homeworld.
"Oh," I said. "Well then. That's something completely different."
Flipping my free hand off the table, I made a show of slowly reaching down to my utility belt and extracted a single red stone before setting it on the table between us.
"This is a truthstone. Its function is simple enough and probably self-explanatory. Tell a lie and it glows red, very soon thereafter things get unpleasant. Is your occupation in law enforcement or possibly with the Jedi?"
Her pale eyes lifted from the stone in recognition. That pretty much cemented her heritage in my mind. I learned how to make it out on Dathomir.
"No."
I've yet to encounter a species the truthstone doesn't work on. Considering her origins, no glow was good enough for me.
"I've been known to… remove certain people, but there are some that I won't touch. What's the name of the mark?"
"Count Dooku."
Bonus: I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Synopsis
Ahsoka Tano left the Jedi Order, walking away after their betrayal. She did not consider the consequences of what her actions might bring, or the danger she might be in. A chance run in with a single irreverent, and possibly crazy, person in a bar changes the course of fate for an entire galaxy.
Excerpt
The bar was a relatively quiet one. Surprisingly so, given that it wasn't far from a main thoroughfare. The sound from the traffic nearby was reduced to no more than a dull and distant roar.
A Togruta female sat in a chair at a bar. She was idly swirling the teal liquid in her glass around, not really paying attention to her surroundings. She was utterly lost in her thoughts.
The bartender in front of her, who was an incredibly busty Zeltron female in a skin tight bodysuit that not only left absolutely nothing to the imagination as to what lay underneath, but had a portion cut out on her top to reveal an impressive amount of cleavage. Ahsoka knew she was young and still had some growing to do, but despite having finally begun to fill out in the past few months, she would never have the bust of the Zeltron.
The bartender had inquired several times about whether the young girl wished for another drink. Despite her occasional inquiries, the woman hadn't done it in a way to be insistent about buying another or in irritation with Ahsoka taking up a seat at her bar. The young girl thought it a genuinely nice change of pace from her previous experiences of wasting times in bars. Especially considering how deep she was in the side of Coruscant the politicians didn't wish to talk about and the news crews long realized should never be shown to the public.
Drinking, unfortunately for the goddess serving customers at the bar, wasn't on the forefront of the Togruta's mind. In fact, she had barely touched whatever it was that was inside her glass. The request 'Surprise me!' had always brought Sky-Guy interesting looks, and often free information out of the banter established, but right now she didn't have the energy for the follow through that would be required, nor any reason for it.
Today, had been a day like no other in her admittedly insane life. The decision to walk away from the Jedi Temple had been both the easiest and hardest thing she had ever done. The problem she was only now truly realizing was that the Jedi Order had been her entire life. She had next to no recollection of her life prior to the age of three when her Force sensitivity had been discovered on the planet of Shili by Jedi Master Plo Kloon, someone she still felt as a sort of father figure to her.
Of course that meant nothing when she had been standing in the pit before the Jedi Masters who had passed judgement on actions they thought she had taken.
Every possible close tie and relationship she had was connected to the Jedi Order. Idly she wondered if that was another reason why the Jedi took children from their families; to give them really no place to go, other than the temple. Ahsoka admitted to herself that the thought was rather cynical and bitter but at the moment she didn't much care.
Someone slid up beside her at the bar and leaned forward arms over the bar as he leaned forward. Ahsoka barely glanced over at him, as the unassuming human male's profile didn't register as being important to her at all. She did register that he had dark brown hair, or maybe black. She didn't really care to focus on his features.
The bartender in front of her however lit up with a wide smile in recognition. Ahsoka did note that it didn't seem to be the false happiness many bartenders across the galaxy would do for repeat customers so that they would attempt to purchase more alcohol in an attempt to kill their livers or whatever bodily organ the species had that might process alcohol through the body. No, this bartender was genuinely happy that this man was here.
"Harry! Long time no see! Last time I heard you were out exploring some old ruins on… Ziost or something?" The bartender grinned at him, her arms braced on her hips.
The man, presumably the aforementioned Harry, chuckled good naturedly. "Keeping tabs on me?" Ahsoka realized he spoke with a pleasant accent, albeit one she couldn't identify offhand.
The bartender grinned, "Nah, one of my suppliers mentioned he'd hauled some cargo out that way and docked near your ship."
Harry laughed and groused playfully, "The paint job, no doubt."
"Got it in one!" The zeltron laughed and nodded with a bright smile. "So… the usual I presume?"
"Of course. Closest to a good cup that I don't have to make myself or that doesn't taste like liquid dirt." The human male chuckled an amused way.
Ahsoka Tano repressed a sigh, she felt a pang in her heart as the sound was almost identical to the one SkyGuy used to give her when she'd been a touch too enthusiastic about something or he was humoring her.
"Yeah yeah, that's why you keep coming back." The zeltron said as she turned around and seemed to be heating up something judging by the little spurts of steam coming out of one of the drink mixers.
Harry winked at the Zeltron. "You know I keep coming back for your wonderful company, the tea is just a bonus!"
"Flatterer," The bartender said a moment later as she slid a cup across the bar.