Master Apprentice
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Title: Sound of Snow Falling
Author: TheWrongImpressionist
Beta: MerryAmelie
Archive: MasterApprentice, Fanfiction.net
Category: Qui/Obi, Crossover, Alternate Reality, Romance, Action/Adventure
Rating: PG-13, possible eventual R
Summary: in which Obi-Wan gets an education in the Living Force (whether he wants it or not), Qui-Gon further embraces his not-so-inner maverick, and Voldemort engages in a little biological warfare.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated at tukitaka@gmail.com, as writing fiction is very hard for me, and I take great pains to produce quality work.
(back to Chapter 7)
-eight-
-talks to the moon-
He comes to life slowly, and it's like he's in the Temple though he knows it can't be so – except that his mind feels cool and calm as a swamp garden, so it seems natural to wriggle unashamedly as any youngling into the embrace of green life all through his mind, the sound of running water echoing like far-off bird-cries, phantom scents of dirt and heat and citrus and sweet cradling his waking, and his Master –
– his MASTER –
– his Master, who only smiles, and reaches down to Obi-Wan, brushing his fingertips just there over the center space between Obi-Wan's eyes.
Obi-Wan wakes.
Qui-Gon's smiling.
“Padawan,” is all he says, quietly, and the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes crinkle in welcome but Obi-Wan can't look away from the eyes themselves, depthless blue and pulling him in like localized gravity wells. For a moment he can't breathe as something strong and sharp and fragile and beautiful blossoms inside him, something that's been quietly growing but with the return of Qui-Gon's sun, like a curling vine raises itself to meet the rays that give it life; and he unfurls vividly and completely.
“Master,” he says.
~*~
The meeting of their minds is calm and unhurried, as befitting Jedi, and slowly, in the exchange of images and non-specifics and memories, Qui-Gon learns of the planet from Obi-Wan, and of his Padawan's experiences upon it while his Master lay in healing sleep; and Obi-Wan learns of his master's dealings with the witches and wizards while he, in turn, lay in rest.
When they pull apart, threads of each linger in the other, softly twining as roots drifting underwater. Obi-Wan thinks no more on this fact but that it leaves both content.
“You've been busy, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmurs. “So many pathetic lifeforms that needed you.” It's a joke that's just between him and Obi-Wan, and his smile is the one he has just for Obi-Wan, the one that's fond and teasing and careful all at once.
He swallows heavily. He doesn't have to say it, but he wants to. To make this more real. “You're awake, Master. I'm glad you're awake.” Then he swallows again, and he whispers, “You're alive.”
Qui-Gon hasn't stopped smiling. “So I am.” He reaches down as if to cup Obi-Wan's hands in his, but pauses; so Obi-Wan reaches, inviting Qui-Gon to complete the motion. He does. Their hands are warm together. “I'm alive thanks to you, Padawan. I am very glad to see you again.”
Obi-Wan just nods, and though with the lapse of elation, the dregs of hidden fatigue re-creep, he drinks his master's presence like one drowned in salt.
No doubt sensing this, Qui-Gon laughs, not unkindly; but there's an overlay of ragged relief that surprises Obi-Wan. “Your recovery was easier on me, I think.” This, Obi-Wan thinks, may be true, but easier does not equal easy. Qui-Gon has been very worried. He has been asleep for nine days; Qui-Gon, awake for seven of them. “I had no doubts you would eventually wake – but you had no such assurances, Obi-Wan,” his laugh gentles into something like concerned affection, “and it has drawn you.”
Again, Obi-Wan nods. Most of what transpired, he has told his Master through the link between their minds: of the space pirates, the ocean crash, the hospital, the wizards, the centaurs, the illness, the droideka, the Draethos. But there are things he hasn't passed to his Master's mind, things he isn't sure how to broach but things he knows he will, eventually, because falsehood runs contrary to the nature of their bond.
Still – he is not ready to be so candid. He doubts he ever will be.
“Rest a while longer, if you need to, Padawan,” Qui-Gon suggests. “The wizards do not expect a full accounting for a few hours yet.”
Never as open with emotion as his Master, Obi-Wan's genuine smile is less with his mouth than with his eyes; Qui-Gon knows this.
While Obi-Wan lets his weight sink into the bed in the hospital wing at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his Master, even in the ungainly chair scooted close to the side of the bed, composes himself in graceful lotus. His meditations drift along Obi-Wan's mind like a spring breeze through new leaves, and Obi-Wan sleeps.
~*~
“Right,” Ron gnashed through a mouthful of toast, “Let me get this straight. Dumbledore really thinks everyone'll believe B- er, Obi-Wan's a reclusive Buddhist wizard-monk of some secretive Sri Lankan order no one's heard of who was here on some kind of spiritual quest, and that the thing that attacked the castle – wait, what did he say about that?”
“Yes, and nothing yet,” Hermione answered primly, frowning in faint disapproval at the dusting of crumbs accumulating on the long table of the Great Hall. “Ron, you're making more work for the house-elves-”
“I bet Dumbledore lets people draw their own conclusions about the robot,” Harry interjected hastily. “I mean, why would Dumbledore have an explanation any more than anyone else? Hogwarts was attacked. It's obvious he didn't invite it here.”
“What about those Jedi?” Ron continued. “Is the one even still alive – the one with all the chopped-off limbs, I mean.”
“I don't know, and Dumbledore said they were responsible for the robot.” Hermione tapped her fork to her plate in thought. “Which they said themselves, they were. Other than that, he just said the Jedi Masters' involvement is being investigated.”
Like wind-tossed snowflakes, owls swooped about the Great Hall as they had for days now, and as they probably would for some time. Nine days since the attack on the castle and it was still mainstream gossip in all the newspapers and on the lips of every Hogwarts student. Nine days since the death of the blue creature brought about the fall of the red barrier, and the Aurors, frustratingly close-mouthed, shuffled them back into the castle.
Nine days since Harry had seen Obi-Wan or Quinn.
“You think they're alive?” he mused aloud.
Hermione and Ron postponed their blossoming argument and turned towards him as one. “Who?” Ron asked. “The Jedi? Didn't we just-”
“No, Obi-Wan and Quinn.”
“I think so,” Hermione replied firmly. “The wizarding world is civilized – in principle, at least,” she added with a deep scowl. “With the attack being as public as it was, they wouldn't just let them die without a fair trial.”
“Wouldn't they?” Harry wondered darkly. “If they were already close to dead, it would be easy to just...forget to give them a crucial bit of medical attention. You can't question someone dead, and the attack goes down as officially unresolved.”
Hermione opened her mouth like she had something to say, looking first to Harry then to Ron, then closed it and shrugged apologetically. Ron's mouth set in a grim line, his toast resting forlornly on his plate.
“Dad's been keeping his ear to the ground for any news. He doesn't think anyone's dead, not yet at least.”
“What did he have to say about the attack?” Harry questioned.
“....He says he'll wait and see,” Ron answered hesitatingly. “He won't say either way whether or not Obi-Wan's guilty of all those things those other Jedi accused him of. Or whether the killings were self-defense or premeditated.”
“It's all very fishy.” Hermione's lips pursed in annoyance. “I wish I could talk to Obi-Wan or Dumbledore, or that Jedi Master in the hospital wing-”
“-without arms and legs, because of Obi-Wan,” Harry finished, frowning.
“No matter what else was going on out there,” Hermione added disapprovingly, “I do believe Obi-Wan was unnecessarily violent, and should be made to answer for it.”
Harry and Ron nodded in mutual more-or-less agreement – someone had to answer for the deaths that day, and they could only blame so much on the blue creature.
Then Hermione whispered, “I can't believe Professor Flitwick's dead,” and neither Ron nor Harry had an answer for that but to look at the somber black banners decorating the Great Hall, and remember the equally somber funeral held several days prior. For a few minutes the three quieted and resumed eating breakfast, unenthusiastically.
Then Neville approached, looking flushed. “Harry,” he said breathlessly, and turned. “Hermione, Ron – the Headmaster wants to see you in his office.”
Immediately the eyes of every surrounding student fixed upon the three. Ignoring them and hastily abandoning his orange juice, Harry rose eagerly from the table, Ron and Hermione following suit. They traded a quick glance – this had to be the explanation they were waiting for – and lost no time leaving the Great Hall.
Expression wistful, Neville remained by the Gryffindor table and watched them leave.
~*~
Like a panther in repose, Quinn sat calmly next to Obi-Wan in measured grace. Tall and lean, silver-streaked brown hair unbound and long as any wizard's, nose large and crooked and expression kind, he smiled gently at the surrounding wizards even with his hands and legs bound both physically and magically. At his side was Obi-Wan, looking simultaneously exhausted and energized, bound as well but as tranquil as his father, appearing insultingly unashamed of his actions as they were read aloud to the assembled wizards.
“...and is assumed to have communicated, method and manner unknown, with the guardian giant squid of the lake,” Kingsley announced, “at which point it accurately and precisely threw the Jedi Obi-Wan's weapon into the chest of the unidentified humanoid being, an action of which, it is universally believed, it would not have been capable under its own faculties. Referencing models of human anatomy and official autopsy reports, the humanoid's death is believed to be instantaneous.”
In Dumbledore's magically enlarged office were squashed Dumbledore and McGonagall, the former bestowing upon all a pleasant equanimity, the latter expressionless but listening as intently as a cat stalking prey; the two Jedi under question, flanked on either side by Kingsley, monotonously reading the gold-speckled Ministry scroll, and Tonks, maroon-haired and twitching every so often as if with repressed eagerness; Harry, Ron, and Hermione, seated a bit to one side to better whisper to one another; Molly and Arthur Weasley, both of whom appeared puzzled and increasingly distressed; Ginny, wide-eyed and cautious; Snape, offering all a universal glare; and, looking habitually weary, Lupin. Evening light cast the office in oranges and reds, and the only sounds came from Kingsley's speech and the ever-present whirring and ticking of Dumbledore's many magical instruments.
“The Jedi Obi-Wan's weapon extinguished,” Kingsley continued professionally, “and attempts to reignite it have so far been unsuccessful, further pointing to his involvement in the squid's actions. Upon arrival at the site of death, Auror Nymphadora Tonks found the Jedi Obi-Wan unconscious, a state in which it is confirmed by resident Nurse Poppy Pomfrey he remained in for nine consecutive days. Two days after the incident on the Hogwarts grounds, the man heretofore known as Quinn, self-introduced as Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn-”
- and here Harry, Ron, and Hermione traded looks, and Ron whispered decisively, “Knew it wasn't his real name,” to which Hermione rolled her eyes, looking simultaneously fond and long-suffering -
“-awoke from an extended magical coma, the diagnosis of which remains undetermined. The Jedi Master has spoken for his apprentice in agreeing to a full accounting of the events mentioned, as well as agreeing to face with his apprentice any and all given consequences, of which shall also be determined.”
Kingsley let go of the scroll; with a flash like light reflecting off a mirror, it rolled up and compressed into the size of a toothpick and secured itself in one of the Auror's pockets. He turned to Obi-Wan, who met his eyes calmly.
“We will now hear your accounting of events. For the sake of clarity and in respect for all here, we ask that no questions be put forth until you have finished.”
Did Kingsley just glance towards him and his friends?
Obi-Wan dipped his head. “Of course.” His long braid hung over his shoulder, strands poking out haphazardly, and his hair seemed longer and shaggier than Harry remembered. He didn't look at his father.
“My Master and I are not from the planet Earth.”
Stunned silence. Someone – Snape, Harry thought – scoffed quietly. Harry looked first to Dumbledore, but couldn't make out the old wizard's expression. He looked back to Obi-Wan. Surely he couldn't be serious?
“I would like to extend a formal greeting from the Jedi Temple of Coruscant, Central Space, to the people of Earth, Wild Space, and specifically to the inhabitants of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he continued, voice quieter than Kingley's booming bass but just as professional. He met each of their eyes – not confrontationally in the least, but with a strength Harry hadn't seen there before. He wondered where it came from.
“We are honored to have had such gracious hosts as the Weasley family and Herd of the Forbidden Forest, and to have had Headmaster Dumbledore's kind offer of an extended stay on the grounds. We hope our future relations will continue more pleasantly than their beginnings.”
Ron whistled quietly beside him. “Diplomat much?” Harry nodded in silent agreement – though it was taking all his willpower to stay his tongue. How was Obi-Wan able to talk so well all of a sudden? It sent a new wave of suspicion creeping along his spine. Had Obi-Wan fooled them in that, too? Had he always known English?
But, more importantly – space? Could he really believe that? He looked around himself, and though everyone's face bore varying degrees of skepticism, no one objected. Why wasn't someone raising a protest?
Right on cue, “If we're to believe that I'll need some more proof,” Hermione whispered decisively to Harry and Ron. But as Kingsley asked, she didn't interrupt otherwise.
“Yeah,” Harry agreed quietly. People claimed they were abducted by aliens all the time, or that aliens were out there, and none of it was real.
Though if he'd been asked as a kid whether or not magic was real, he would have said no. And look how that turned out.
“Know that neither I, Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, nor my Master –” and here Harry sucked in a quick breath.
“Master?” he whispered heatedly. Not that word again; it was one thing to be considered a Master of a subject; another thing entirely to be a Master of someone else.
Hermione looked like she was about to reply when Obi-Wan spoke again, recapturing her attention. She gave him a sympathetic smile. Harry quietly fumed.
“- never intended any harm to befall the people of this planet, and offer our most sincere condolences for the death of Professor Flitwick.” He paused in what was obviously a respectful gesture.
“Now please allow me to begin explanations long overdue.” Obi-Wan paused again, but this time it seemed in thought. The room's inhabitants held their breath in expectation. Then he started telling his tale, and Harry and the rest of the room listened.
“For over a year, my Master and I trailed a slaving ring.”
Harry grimaced in horror, and he wasn't the only one. Beside him Hermione looked self-righteously aghast; Ron, equally grim. Obi-Wan's expression didn't change. Harry frowned. Didn't it make him mad?
“Several months ago, we followed a particular vessel to the planet Ryos. We sought the aid of the locals, who happened to be heavily involved in the human trafficking. We were summarily chased offworld with liberal application of violence. During our temporary retreat, we felt an unusually strong, untrained presence in the Force. Thinking it a potential Jedi, we attempted a course taking us closer to the presence. However, we encountered a far more dangerous individual, an enemy of the Jedi known as a Sith.
“We surprised him as much as he surprised us, I believe. We fought; he inflicted a near-mortal wound on my Master.” Obi-Wan's tone grew hard. “I gave him back the same.” He paused, and this time his face shifted as if about to look at the man beside him; but he caught himself, visibly unclenched his jaw and took a series of deep breaths. He ignored the strange looks he was given while doing so.
“Then the locals came, and I was forced to flee again, taking my Master with me. I could not tarry to ensure the Sith's death.” He shook his head. “He must have had a remote detonation device implanted on the slaver ship. When I made it to the docking bay, it was in pieces, along with a large portion of the bay.” His voice quieted. “The strong Force presence had been silenced, as well as those of all the other slaves.”
For a moment, he seemed very sad.
“Our ship had long since been torn apart by the locals,” Obi-Wan resumed at a more normal volume, “most likely as soon as we walked out of the bay upon landing. I stole one of the remaining vessels – a small medical transport, equipped to handle five or fewer patients. I made it offworld and put my Master into a tank filled with a healing liquid we call bacta, then set a return course to the nearest planet with permanently stationed Jedi. Partly to our destination, we were attacked by space pirates looking for entertainment. They destroyed multiple control panels of our vessel. I could no longer direct our path.
“We were pulled into the gravity of your planet, which is unmarked on any of our maps and does not show on scans.” He frowned slightly. “I do not know why this is or I would tell you, so do not think it duplicity on my part that I do not.
“I prepared for our emergency landing. When we had cleared the atmosphere and were within a safe distance of the ocean, I jumped from the ship with my Master and landed in a body of water I would later learn to be the North Sea. The ship crashed, and I destroyed the remnants before swimming to shore. Once there, I came across a small family of centaurs with a sick foal. I was able to heal the foal; in return, the mare helped us travel to St. Mungo's Hospital. At the hospital, my Master lay in healing sleep, and I waited for him to wake and worked on deciphering your written language. It was then that Mrs. Weasley came to visit a friend and saw us.
“You know what followed directly; kind as she is,” he nodded towards Mrs. Weasley with a small smile, but she only gave him a weak one in return. “She opened her home to us, and I accepted, needing a more permanent base from which to ascertain where we were, heal my Master, and find a way offworld. I left often to search the surrounding area. I visited several local towns regularly, reading newspapers to learn what I could of your planet. You believed the crashing vessel to be a meteorite, I think,” he added.
“Yes, they thought it was a meteorite,” Harry said in an undertone, “but if we believe his story, it was the UFO nuts who had it right, wasn't it?”
“That's a big 'if,'” Hermione put in pointedly. “So far, I'm not convinced.” She hesitated. “Though his story does fill in several important gaps....”
“Soon after,” Obi-Wan resumed, “the centaur Henna, sister to the foal Morgwen, sought my aid to heal her father. I answered her need. Before I left, I put my Master into a state called stasis, in which the body is still alive, but functioning extremely slowly, so slow as to seem nearly dead. In this way I was able to leave him, knowing he would remain stable until my return.
“I came to the Forbidden Forest to heal Tanos, a Herdleader, father of Henna and Morgwen, and mate of Herdleader Callidora. Though I was able to heal him, other cases sprang anew. And I am no trained Healer,” he admitted plainly. “I could heal the symptoms, but I could not be sure I was fully eradicating the disease, nor conclude how to prevent its spread. I needed additional wisdom, and so I left the Herd and returned to my Master, intending to take him out of stasis and let him finish healing, hopefully in time to help the Herd.
“However, circumstances and my own decision made me wait to remove him from stasis. Upon reuniting with the Herd, I deemed it necessary to alert this Castle. It was on my descent from a meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore that the droideka attacked.”
Obi-Wan leaned forward slightly, looking keen and sharp-eyed as a hawk. He gave each person in the room a moment's attention; upon Harry's turn, Harry did his best to read into the Jedi's intentions, as if the truth of his tale was written on his face. But Obi-Wan was inscrutable; in fact, he only smiled a tiny bit, as if he knew what Harry was up to. Then it was Hermione's turn, and Harry was a little glad to have that unnervingly incisive gaze off himself.
“I ask for your patience. Some of what I must now explain requires your non-judgmental stance, as it will present a very different view of the events that transpired that afternoon.” Obi-Wan waited a moment, appearing untroubled. He had no way to ensure that they listened, though. How was he so calm in the face of such great uncertainty?
Harry looked at Jinn, still and serene as a Buddha statue.
“Droidekas are dangerous machines, built specifically to kill Jedi,” Obi-Wan stated, a hint of latent mourning buried somewhere beneath his grim tone. “They are very good at what they do; know that without the aid of Headmaster Dumbledore and Deputy Headmistress McGonagall in getting it in the lake, it could have very well killed me, and then we might have had a very different conclusion to that day. In the water it was considerably slower and more cumbersome. I was able to destroy it. I don't know from where the droideka came, but I suspect the Draethos somehow acquired it. I do know that while I was fighting the droideka, the force shield was activated. I am told after my Master's awakening, he disabled it.”
“Built just to kill those kinds of blokes?” Ron whispered, tilting his head towards the captive Jedi. “Wouldn't like something gunning for me like that, mate.”
“Of course,” Harry replied blandly. “Wouldn't know what that was like, to have something out to kill you.”
Ron scowled. “Oh come on now, that's not what I meant-”
“Shh.” Hermione glared at them impatiently, then ignored them in favor of listening to Obi-Wan. Harry and Ron looked at each other with narrowed eyes a moment more before Harry grinned and shrugged, and Ron did the same, and they both let the incident pass.
“-did not understand all of what transpired until I saw the Draethos,” Obi-Wan was saying. “Seeing him was...illuminating.”
“Er, what's a Draethos?” Harry whispered to whichever of his friends might know the answer.
Which was, of course, Hermione. Without taking her eyes from the Jedi she replied, “The blue creature.”
“The man-hag,” Ron said. She elbowed him, and he smiled a little and so did she when she thought he wasn't looking, and Harry felt a tiny bit lonesome.
“-the two Jedi, who were not,” Obi-Wan emphasized, “real Jedi. Not at that point. Draethos naturally have telepathic powers, but this one was unusually strong. I believe he had somehow destroyed their minds.” The barest hint of cold anger. “Then he controlled their bodies as puppets. If you recall, I did not expect the arrival of two Jedi any more than you did. This is because Jedi can normally feel one another in the Force. As these Jedi no longer had their minds, I could not feel them.
“The false male Jedi met me at the edge of the lake and used an ancient phrase to invoke my obedience. I realize during my confusion some of you tried to address me.” He met the eyes of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, then turned to Dumbledore. “I apologize for my lack of response. I was not in a state to reply. I do appreciate your championing my case, however.”
He half-bowed, as much as his bonds would allow. Dumbledore nodded solemnly.
Obi-Wan addressed the group once more. “I do not know what the Draethos told you through the voice of the female Jedi, except for that which I was there to hear. I would have left with them except that the male Jedi asked for the small red device he told you would free you from the force field. This was a lie.” His tone grew flat. “It was a detonator.”
Several indrawn breaths, then. Beside him Hermione was literally biting her lip to keep herself from asking questions.
“This is why I killed the male Jedi. He was going to detonate the area between the field generators, and kill everyone in it.”
This time several people exclaimed aloud their disbelief, though they were quickly shushed by a glare from Kingsley; Obi-Wan let the clamor die down before he continued.
“I attacked the remaining false Jedi to incapacitate, intending to question her. During my attack the elf Dobby picked up the detonator, and I was forced to put him to sleep.” He paused, and his eyes flickered towards Harry. “That is all I did. I am told he woke up several hours later with no adverse effects.
“After I cut off her arm-” and how could Obi-Wan say a gruesome statement like that so matter-of-factly? “-I asked her to surrender. She refused. I further incapacitated her, but when I again asked questions of her she did not respond. I know now that was because the Draethos had loosed his hold on her mind, which was damaged too thoroughly to be able to respond. As neither I nor my Master have been in contact with her since, I cannot say whether or not the damage is irreparable.
“Then the Draethos showed himself and my Master with him.” Again Obi-Wan's face tensed, the skin around his eyes pinching as they narrowed a fraction. “He attempted to kill my Master.” A hard edge to his voice. “Only because my Master was still in stasis did he survive. Had his organs been functioning at a normal rate, he would have bled to death within minutes.” He made another almost-there aborted motion towards Jinn, but checked himself and paused to take several slow breaths.
His Master remained as serene as ever.
“I fought the Draethos, and your Aurors arrived and incapacitated us both. I immediately set to work undoing the spells, and I assume the Draethos did the same.” He didn't look the least bit ashamed to admit it in front of the Aurors in question. He even dipped his chin towards Tonks in a comradely sort of way, as if he expected her to completely understand. Tonks grinned fiercely.
“However, I believe he also latched onto the mind of the deceased Professor Flitwick, convincing him to aid in the Draethos' escape attempts. The Draethos broke free of the spells, killed the Professor, and attacked me. I was only able to kill him with the aid of your giant squid, who was gracious enough to throw my lightsabre to me. I merely redirected its aim. And that is all that has transpired; I leave you to decide the veracity of the events I described.”
“Thank you,” Kingsley said politely. He turned towards the rest of the room. “I now open the floor for questioning.”
Predictably, Hermione was the first to speak. “What planet are you from, then?” She leaned forward in her seat eagerly, interest shining bright in her eyes.
“My home planet is hot; that is all I know.”
She frowned. “You don't know where you're from?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know what species you are?”
He shrugged slightly. “The Jedi who found me took note of it.”
“Who 'found' you? Just how are Jedi picked-”
Kingsley cleared his throat. “Questions pertinent to the events mentioned.”
“You keep talking about something called the Force,” Tonks asked with interest, craning around to better see the younger Jedi, hair switching rapidly between shades of yellow and pink. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”
Obi-Wan blinked slowly. “The Force is everything.”
“Everything?” she prompted.
“Everything that is, was, and will be,” Obi-Wan explained calmly, surely, with an undertone of solemn conviction, sounding much older than his years. “The Force exists in every one of us at all times. If one learns to listen, it can guide. If one learns to speak its language – those, are Jedi: those who communicate with the Force.”
“Can anyone learn its language?” Kingsley suddenly boomed. Obi-Wan's head tilted slightly to the side, and he regarded Kingsley as if through a haze of exotic mysticism, everything about him growing more and more foreign the more he talked, eyes keen as a hawk's.
“In theory, yes, though those whose calling it is to become Jedi are usually given certain proclivities, and usually make their way to the Temple in some fashion or other.”
“Can you prove any of this?” Openly curious, Hermione watched Obi-Wan with an analytical glint to her eye. “That this Force exists?”
“Yes and no.” Still with that sense of mystery.
“Would you consider following the Force a religion?”
“No, though to many it would appear to be so.”
He loved Hermione as a dear friend, he really did, but sometimes she got so caught up in minutiae she forgot about the really important stuff. As the banter continued Harry finally couldn't take it anymore and burst out, “Why did you lie to us all this time?”
Eyes turned to him, but Harry kept his on Obi-Wan, who turned to him with blue eyes unhurried.
“I did not lie. Everything I said was truth. I did not, however, say much.” At least he looked regretful.
“So, lies by omission, then,” Harry stated accusingly.
“I would say no, but you would say yes.” Which wasn't really an answer at all.
“By the way, just how are you speaking so clearly now?” Lupin interjected hastily, always a peacemaker. “When you stayed with the Weasleys, your English was far from this level of sophistication.”
Harry let it go, but he gave Lupin a look that said he knew what his former professor was up to. For a second Lupin glanced at him, part stern and part apologetic.
“There is a technique Jedi use for the rapid assimilation of language,” Obi-Wan explained patiently. “It makes communication on newfound planets much easier. It involves...borrowing the language from a willing mind. In other words,” he added, “A local must volunteer to share his mind with the Jedi's, transferring through memories, images, and thoughts, the language of his planet. It is an intimate process. But it is always done voluntarily,” he emphasized emphatically.
“Why didn't you do it as soon as you landed here?” Ron asked.
Obi-Wan shook his head. “It is always done voluntarily,” he repeated. “I had no one from whom I would feel comfortable borrowing language and who would feel comfortable being borrowed from, and I would not force the process upon anyone.”
Ron nodded, though he frowned. “Yes, but – it sure would have made it a lot easier for you, wouldn't it?”
Obi-Wan dipped his chin once in a nod, and only replied with a small smile.
Molly piped up, “Why didn't you get more medical attention for your father?”
Obi-Wan blinked, appearing genuinely surprised. “My what?”
His father chuckled quietly. Obi-Wan shot him a quick frown, looking oddly flustered and, for a moment, very human.
“Your father,” Mrs. Weasley repeated, less surely now, glancing between the two Jedi uncertainly. “Mr. Jinn.”
“Ah.” Obi-Wan regained his composure as rapidly as if he'd never lost it; a small smile lingered on Jinn's lips. “Yes, in many ways, he is my father. But in the way to which I believe you refer – biological – he is not.” Mrs. Weasley kept watching him expectantly, but Obi-Wan's expression was placid, and he didn't elaborate on the subject.
“He's not your dad?” Ron blurted, then reddened. But Obi-Wan only smiled that small smile at him, and shook his head.
“Well, alright then,” Ron said self-consciously, and looked elsewhere in the room, as if reassuring himself he wasn't the only one surprised – which he wasn't. It seemed they'd all assumed, erroneously, that the pair were biological father and son.
So if they weren't father and son, what were they?
“And as to medical attention – your planet couldn't supply him with the attention he needed.”
“And you could?” Lupin asked keenly.
Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. “I could, but only to an extent, and temporarily. I am not a trained Jedi Healer.”
“Are you human?” Harry suddenly asked, surprising himself with his own daring. Again, all eyes turned to face him; he squared his shoulders resolutely. It was a valid question.
“Not your particular subspecies, but both my Master and I are humanoid.”
“And what does that mean?” Harry asked challengingly.
Obi-Wan remained unruffled. “Certain anatomical differences and deviant sleeping patterns are the most remarkable of each of our subspecies' characteristics in comparison to yours.”
“What sort of sleeping patterns?” Hermione inquired with interest, as Ron gave Harry a look.
“By nature, I am crepuscular.”
Hermione's face lit up. “Really? How have you adapted to our diurnal schedule?”
He smiled slightly. “I haven't. Recall how I left the Weasleys' home at odd times of day?”
“Oh....” Hermione said with the air of someone catching on.
It was McGonagall, who had been quiet until now, who surprised them all by addressing a question not to Obi-Wan, but to Jinn.
“And you?” she raised a brow. “Are you content to be represented by a youth barely past adolescence?”
Jinn smiled with evident humor. It was a more relaxed, open expression than Obi-Wan's by far. “Yes.”
“By your planet's reckoning, I am twenty,” Obi-Wan contributed helpfully. Twenty, which was both younger and older than Harry would have guessed.
“I am sure my Padawan would be happy to entertain any more questions you may have,” Jinn suggested. Hermione was only too happy to indulge.
“When you spoke with the Jedi, what did you and they say?”
Obi-Wan turned to her calmly. “The male told me his partner would go into the woods to see to the centaurs. He told me to come with him. I asked if the female could look over my Master as well.” He frowned. “She agreed, but told me I'd have to tell her where he was in order to do so. This was an oversight on my part. Were she truly Jedi, she would have been able to find him easily on her own. Then the male asked for the device, 'to free them.' This device was the force field detonator. This was when I surmised he was not truly Jedi, and dealt with him in the quickest way possible to ensure he did not detonate the field.”
“You killed him,” Kingsley rephrased calmly.
“Yes.” Obi-Wan's hands lay still in his lap, even in the bonds. “I killed him.” Try as he might, Harry couldn't detect any inflection in the Jedi's voice.
“That isn't the first person you've killed, is it,” Mr. Weasley stated with a tired frown and a tone of disappointment.
“No, it is not.”
“Bit of a dangerous profession, eh?” Harry asked with a hint of challenge. Obi-Wan only met his eyes and smiled briefly, a little shadow over his eyes.
Jinn, however – Jinn looked right at Harry until Harry met his gaze, and even then he didn't look away. His expression was thoughtful. Harry raised an eyebrow daringly; Jinn smiled, then looked away.
“Why did you invite us here?” Mrs. Weasley wrung her hands a bit, seeming both angry and worried. “I mean, not that I mind, but this seems a matter more for the Aurors and those involved. Arthur and I, we weren't even there.”
“You sheltered my Master and me during a time in which we desperately needed shelter,” Obi-Wan explained with evident gratitude, his voice warming. “I consider it only fair recompense that I explain myself to all those who helped me. I invited the rest of your family,” he added, “but for various reasons, they were unable to attend. Were it not for the quarantine, I also would have invited several centaurs.”
“So it wasn't just me and Gin,” Ron muttered. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder; Harry just pretended he hadn't heard, as he would have wanted Ron to do had Harry said something personal.
“...know how the droideka was able to function within school grounds?” Lupin was saying, gazing at both Obi-Wan, Jinn, and Dumbledore.
Obi-Wan looked at Dumbledore and nodded, an obvious deferral.
Dumbledore smiled brightly. “You are quite polite, but unfortunately I am just as flummoxed as Remus.”
Obi-Wan nodded again, then turned to Lupin. “I have heard of this school's ability to cause a malfunction in any mechanical devices brought inside. I surmise that the droideka, as it has the ability to think, was considered a living being.”
“Ah.” Lupin nodded, expression clearing as if he understood. “And since magical beings are defined by their ability to think in some form-” and Harry had a feeling his former professor wasn't saying this aloud for his own benefit, “-it wasn't attacked by the school's magic.”
“I believe so.”
Beside Harry, Hermione was nodding rapidly in agreement, eyes fixed intently on Obi-Wan, whispering to herself, “Yes, yes that would make sense-”
“And the detonator?” Mr. Weasley asked, looking a bit excited at using a new Muggle word.
“Force-based, and therefore magical – consider Headmaster Dumbledore's clocks.” Obi-Wan tilted his head towards the miniature herd of clocks ticking on his desk, on the mantel, and scattered throughout the room, whirring away busily. “They are mechanical, yet also magical, and so function within the school's walls.”
“And your sword?” Ginny piped up.
“My lightsabre is also a construct of both mechanical origin and the Force, though one activated by the user's presence.”
“Which is why we can't get the blasted things to light,” Tonks put in wryly. Obi-Wan gave her the smallest bit of a crooked smile, and nodded. “So how do you activate it?”
“There are crystals embedded in the hilt of the sword that can channel the Force,” Obi-Wan explained. “One trained in the use of the Force can focus it into the crystal and create a physical manifestation of the Force. Each crystal is finely attuned to its individual user, making it very difficult for the sabre to be used by anyone other than the intended.”
“What about the droideka's attacks?” Lupin returned to the subject of the living machine with interest. “The Headmaster was unable to block them.” And it went without saying that anything Dumbledore couldn't block, simply couldn't be blocked.
“A force field or a lightsabre are the only things that can deflect droideka fire.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “It is my guess that anything shot from a wand, meaning magic spells, is deflectable by a magic shield. Anything else – such as droideka blasts, which have a very corporeal presence – is not.”
“The inability to block Muggle bullets has always been a failing of the magical community,” Dumbledore suddenly remarked, sounding very solemn, “and the cause of many deaths.”
“I suppose it does make sense,” Lupin agreed seriously.
The questioning continued on for another few minutes, mostly by Kingsley, who seemed to want more details about Obi-Wan's initial mission, crash landing on Earth, and activities since. Then several of Dumbledore's clocks played twinkling little melodies, and Dumbledore called a halt.
“I believe it is time the students return to class, and our Jedi guests to the hospital wing,” he said, rising to his feet with a merry clap of his hands.
“Quite right.” Tonks nodded with a wink and mischievous grin towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry and Ron shared a groan at the thought of class as she and Kingsley began shuffling Obi-Wan and Jinn from the room. Meanwhile, McGonagall's stern gaze made it clear she expected obedience from her Gryffindors.
Still – Harry wasn't missing this opportunity. He'd brave a little of McGonagall's wrath, and with that in mind, gave Obi-Wan one last look, then went over to Lupin, who watched his approach with kind eyes.
“Professor, I was wondering what you could tell me about Sirius....”
~*~
When the wizards have locked them in their hospital cell for the night, Obi-Wan unhurriedly allows his eyes to open, stands from his lotus on the floor, calmly paces over to the single window, then stills. A few snowflakes fall, drifting airily in the wind like feathers. The night isn't yet in complete darkness, and a full moon shines silver lights like icicles across the snow. His Master remains seated, but he can feel Qui-Gon's mind returning from meditation, then his eyes tracking his presence across the room. The two beds, as yet made neatly, separate the space between them.
His Master waits. Obi-Wan looks up at the moon and is silent for a long while.
Then he speaks. “Master, they,” he swallows, “they used the Call to obedience on me. Did I-”
“You did not deserve that, Obi-Wan. Never believe you did.”
Curled in the shoulders, Obi-Wan whispers, “I was not wrong to act as I did? It matters little that the Master turned out to be mind-controlled. I still chose to disobey a senior.”
“No true Jedi Master would use the Call so lightly, knowing the amount of self-doubt it can cause.” Qui-Gon's voice washes over him like the gentle waves of a pond over sand, smoothing over his uncertainty. Still–
“But what about the Darkness?”
Now Qui-Gon stands quietly, without hurry, his footsteps padding softly across the floor. He pauses at his Padawan's side, then takes a step closer and palms his shoulder gently. “What do you think?”
He thinks he can barely stand the close presence of his Master, so close and yet unreachable. An errant strand of his Master's hair touches his cheek; Obi-Wan represses a shudder.
“I think,” he licks his lips, then swallows again, “I think there is some truth. Master. I reached for the Force when my mind was not calm, and so accessed it through the Dark Side. There was necessity, but – I think I need your help, Master, to cleanse myself.”
His Master squeezes his shoulder. “Alright.”
“What should I do?” Obi-Wan whispers. “I – I can feel it in me, Master.” Like the creeping of rust over iron, slowly corroding. His Master closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them again, they are a very sharp blue.
He can see the moon reflected in Qui-Gon's eyes.
“You'll come with me to the North Pole.”
“...Master?”
“There are planets used for growing Force crystals, Obi-Wan,” his Master says. He has not removed his hand from Obi-Wan's shoulder, and his palm slowly warms the skin beneath the cloth. “I suspect we are on one, and that the two Jedi were stationed here solely to tend to the crystals. There are glaciers in the north, far from civilization, in which a crystal nursery could very readily exist.” He pauses, then adds, “There may in fact be two stations; one in the north and one in the south. But we are closer to the north.”
Obi-Wan ignores the addendum in favor of the introduction. He is faintly surprised. “How do you know of this, Master?”
“I've helped find planets well-suited to growing crystals before, Padawan. Planets strong in the Living Force.” Ah. That would be an area of his Master's expertise. “The poles tend to hold the strongest concentrations. At the North Pole perhaps we shall find answers as to what happened on this planet.”
Obi-Wan nods, waiting; he trusts in his Master to know his lingering thoughts.
And he does. “As for the Darkness, Padawan – I think it best that you release your hold on the Force for now,” he says gently. “Let it go for a while, Padawan. You have had a stranglehold on the Force for a very long time. Let yourself breathe and be human.”
“Abstain from using the Force?” Obi-Wan is taken aback. “Master, the Force is air to me.”
“And for now, I shall give you breath,” his Master says softly, and puts his other hand on Obi-Wan's other shoulder, facing him fully. “I will be Jedi enough for both of us, as you have been for me. Let go for now, Obi-Wan,” he encourages kindly, earnestly. “When you are at peace once more, the Force will find you.”
Obi-Wan looks at the silver moon glinting in the deep blue of his Master's eyes.
“Yes, Master.”