Disclaimer: See Chapter 0.
Author's note: I'm not going to give out deadlines for myself any more. I don't seem to be able to keep them very well. I want to thank everyone who's been reviewing. It really has made a difference in whether or not I continue. Now, a couple of people have asked me not to make Draco into a Jedi, but seriously, I think that track is more interesting than if I were to make one of the Trio into one. It makes sense after he couldn't kill Dumbledore, and I think he'll be a good one when he gets some growing up done.
A Power the Dark Lord Knows Not
Draco Malfoy sat cross-legged on a pad made from a folded blanket on the floor of a Muggle camping tent. He had not changed much in the small two-man sleeper, but he had put a weather shield and a glamor on it, both for protection. His temporary home looked like just another tree in the Irish countryside, and it kept the rain and wind out. He was invisible and sheltered. He was comfortable as was possible in the tiny space, and he had time to meditate and recuperate.
Draco had been on the run ever since June, ever since the fiasco with Dumbledore had resulted in his—his condition—being outted to Voldemort and his father. His mother had always known, being one of those rare people who could tell the difference between earth magic and life magic just by the feel of it. She had done a lot of research when he was very young, and she had guided him as best she could.
Draco was not—technically—a wizard. He was an earth magician, or mage for short. Mages were far more likely to be found in obscure religious orders than in wizarding society. In fact, to Draco's admittedly poor knowledge, there had never been a wizard who was also a mage, though some thought Merlin might have been one such. Draco could perform magic, very convincingly, but he manipulated earth magic with his life magic, gathering it into the palm of his hand and forcing it through his wand to produce a spell. He had more steps to go through to perform the same spell as someone else, which made him just a tad slower than, say, Potter or Granger.
Draco sighed and stared into the flame of his candle, the only light he had allowed himself. He'd done such a good job of pretending, that he was a wizard, that he was his father's little shadow, that he believed in Lord Voldemort's vile sputum. But in the end, no amount of pretending could force him to betray his true beliefs, to kill Dumbledore and every other Muggle-loving teacher at Hogwarts. Surrounded by the dark, he repelled it, like a candle in the night.
He had his mother to thank for that. Despite Lucius Malfoy's influence upon his son, Narcissa'd had the raising of him, and so had been able to instill decent values in him. He valued all life, even more because he could sense life, could feel it when things died or were born. He sometimes shared the pain of death or injury with animals he became close to, to say nothing of people.
He had overcome much in the past year, including his fear of death's pain, but that didn't mean he courted it, and Voldemort's order to murder Hogwarts' staff had undone him. He'd tried. For the sake of his own survival, Draco had tried his best to do as he'd been commanded, to commit murder. Tried and failed.
He later learned from Snape that the task had been a trap all along, a trap he'd been rescued from by his god father, but that rescue had not come without a cost. The price of his freedom? To hear a secret and carry it for as long as both he and Snape lived.
There had been hundreds of revelations that night, and not all, or even most, had come from the mouth of Severus Snape, but for now, Draco remembered those that had. Snape had known for a long time that Draco was no wizard, had known since he first sat Potions with him, and he'd protected that secret behind his formidable Occulmensy shields. Dumbledore had been dying of curse poisoning the night Severus had killed him, had, in fact, asked Snape to relieve his suffering when it would do the most good. And most shocking of all, both Dumbledore and Voldemort had had perfectly logical reasons for believing they had Snape's loyalty. Yes, Snape hated James Potter, had not mourned his or Sirius Black's passing. But he had loved Lily! She had been his one true friend during his torturous time at Hogwarts, his one staunch defender against the pranks, the taunts, and the loneliness. Romance had never happened between them, only fraternity, but when Snape heard that Voldemort had killed his best friend in the world, he'd changed sides for good, becoming the perfect spy.
Snape had vindicated Draco's search for peace, told him in no uncertain terms that he had been right to deny Voldemort his prize. They'd talked for hours in the relative safety of the open air as they walked from the edge of the Forbidden Forest to a waiting Portkey. And here Snape made his first—and last—mistake. In order to hide something with Occulmensy, you must not think about it, must shove it to the back of your mind and layer shields upon it to prevent unauthorized peeking. Voldemort had overheard their entire conversation while checking up on all of his men.
The dark wizard had taken days to plan Snape's execution, and in the end had chosen irony for his weapon. He called his Death Eaters to his side and told Snape to come forward, that he was to be rewarded for his services in killing Dumbledore. Then he'd injected him with basilisk venom.
Snape had Apparated out to where Draco waited for him, but there was no cure but phoenix tears, which neither of them had on hand. The poison killed him within the hour, but not before he'd had a chance to bottle some of his memories and tell Draco what to do with them. "When Voldemort strikes at Hogwarts, not before and not after, you get this vial to Potter."
"What's in it?"
"Information that he requires. You won't understand it all, but he will. Dumbledore's last message to him is in there. He knew it would have to come from me. Now, it will have to come from you, as well. It is vital for him to defeat Voldemort." He took a ragged breath. "I have loved you as a son, and you have made me proud. I know you will continue to do so." Then he died.
So here he sat in his tent, trying to find some direction in the light of a candle, his dead mentor lying outside disguised as a rock. He sighed and stood. It was time to be moving on. If he was to get Potter to accept the vial from him, he would have to get him to trust him, and that was going to take a lot of skill and finesse.
Draco exited the tent, abolished the illusion, and turned to Snape's body. Deciding that it needed to be buried, he banished it to a location six feet below it's current resting place. The earth bubbled up around it, since it could not occupy the same space as the dirt. Then he used his abilities with life magic to remove bits off the boulder that lay at Snape's head, writing, "Here lies Severus Prince-Snape. A Slytherin. A spy. A good man."
Draco stared at he gravestone for a while, pondering all he knew of the man beneath it, but eventually his connection to life magic started vibrating, a sign he took for a warning of danger. It wouldn't be long before they found him.
Draco looked up at a sudden loud noise. He saw nothing, but he felt an intense presence, a brilliant sun of life magic, and he felt no danger from it, only curiosity and a kind of searching alertness. A person who was very strong with life magic was looking for something that they were curious about. Me. He's looking for me.
Draco was wary of a trap, but reason told him that Voldemort had nothing to do with this. Voldemort put off a stink to his senses that he likened to an old, unemptied chamber pot*. No, this was something new, something unrelated. Or rather, someone.
At first, Draco could see nothing, but as the noise got louder and louder, the field that was hiding its source, a strange Muggle aeroplane, dissipated entirely and the vessel could be seen descending gently to the earth. It threw a lot of dust and dirt into the air, but finally it touched down, and the blustering wind stopped.
The bubble on the top of the plane was clear, and Draco could see that it would actually hold two people, but that the back seat was empty. The front seat held a man who wore a round helmet of some kind of white material, or at least it had once been white, but it was very old and had seen many battles. The man did something to the bubble and it came loose, sliding back over his head until it had gone completely into the body of the plane. Then he hopped out, a jump that would cause many to pause before attempting as it was nearly a ten-foot drop.
The man took off his helmet and ran a hand through his mussed dirty blond hair. He said something in a language that Draco didn't understand, but he extended his hand toward him in greeting. Draco took it, trusting in life magic to warn him if there were any danger, and said, "I'm Draco Malfoy. I don't believe that you and I speak the same language. I can fix that for you." He took out his wand. The stranger seemed to know what a wand was, because he looked warily at Draco. "I promise, I won't hurt you."
Then Draco felt life magic coming from the man. It wrapped around him, testing him, and he allowed it, hiding nothing. Satisfied, the man nodded, and Draco wove a spell. He said, "Lingua loquellare," and moved his wand in a spiral swish, while gathering magic in the palm of his hand. As he finished the spell, the magic moved through the wand and produced the correct effect, which was to allow the stranger to speak his language. With a grin, he then said, "Can you understand me now?"
Luke shook his head. "Amazing! I was told that these wands are weapons."
"You can use any spell in the world with a wand, not just offensive and deffensive ones. Now, as I said before, I'm Draco Malfoy."
"Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight."
"What is a Jedi Knight? I've never heard of them."
Something gained Mr. Skywalker's attention behind Draco as he was about to answer. His eyes narrowed. "Friends of yours?"
Draco spun around. Sure enough, Voldemort, Lucius, and about fourteen other Death Eaters stood at the entrance to the clearing. The evil snake man had a smirk on his face. "Found yourself a Muggle friend, have we, Draco. My, how the pure have fallen."
Draco held his wand at the ready. "So it would seem."
"Now, Draco, why don't you introduce us to your new friend. I'm sure that my friends would love to get to know him." The Death Eaters began to advance, walking around Voldemort and Lucius to begin their attack on both Draco and the Muggle pilot behind him.
Mr. Skywalker leaned next to his ear and spoke quietly. "Get in the back seat of the ship. I'll be there in a moment." To the oncoming Death Eaters, he said, "I have no wish to harm any of you. Turn around and leave in peace."
Of course, as Draco obeyed Skywalker without question, the other wizards had no intention of doing so.
Luke didn't want to show all his cards at once, knowing that it was likely that he would have to face these people in the near future if he meant to help this young man and his own cousin in fighting them, so he left his lightsaber clipped to his belt. Darkness fairly dripped off of most of them, especially the bald one. He must be the one Master Garik had been talking about. Instead of drawing his weapon, he took a slightly defensive stance. In Basic, he called to Artoo, "Be ready to take off in just a moment."
The dark one said, in the language that Draco had just put into his head, "What makes you think that you have the power to harm us that you would make such an interesting offer of escape?" Luke said nothing. "Gentlemen, inform young Draco's new friend just how much of a mistake he has made."
The men drew their wands. The one closest to him launched a spell, which he quickly blocked with the Force. It went spinning off in the direction of a tree, which began to melt. Luke felt the disruption in the Force as the tree died, and vowed to be more careful with this magic. Artoo squealed from the droid pocket on the Lucky Star. Luke somersaulted backwards, landing in the cockpit and closing it just as he and Draco were both seated. "Hold on. I'm going to get us into the air and engage the cloak."
The ship slowly rose from the ground, and for a moment, the masked men were far too busy gawking at it to use their wands, but their leader began shouting at them. Luke couldn't hear them very well through the cockpit window, but he didn't imagine that it was anything good. He turned on his microphone and said to Artoo, "Raising shields and engaging cloak." The few spells that were launched bounced harmlessly off the ship's defensive shielding. "Draco, do you know anywhere that's actually safe for you right now? We need to talk."
Draco thought about it for a moment. "The old Potter House. Have you got a map?" He started when a holographic map of the British Isles popped into the air in front of him. "Um, yeah." He pointed to a particular spot in southwestern England. "The House has been abandoned ever since James Potter's parents died." Draco looked at the back of his rescuer's head. "I trust you, and I have no idea why. But let me warn you. If you betray that trust, you'll regret it. Potter is probably headed to the house, which is his ancestral home, and if you harm any of his friends, you'll probably be left as a smoking hole in the ground."
"This magic is that strong?"
"Not for everyone. But though it galls me to say it, Potter is the strongest wizard to be born in centuries. I and almost everyone else are hoping that his strength will be enough to deal with that person you just met, because if he isn't, we're all in very deep trouble."