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The Sorting Hat's voice rang clear through the Great Hall. "RAVENCLAW!"
Harry's face lit up with a bright smile as he handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall. The Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers, with students chanting "Potter! Potter!" Anna Bones was among the loudest, standing and clapping enthusiastically.
As Harry walked toward the Ravenclaw table, his plain black robes transformed, taking on the deep blue colors of his new house, adorned with the bronze eagle emblem.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw, Harry!" Hermione beamed at him, making space on the bench. Harry returned her smile and sat down among his fellow first-years.
Anna leaned across the table. "I knew you'd be one of us, Harry! You'll feel right at home here."
"Thanks, Anna," Harry replied, feeling warmth spread through him at the welcome.
"Did you know Ravenclaw was founded by Rowena Ravenclaw herself?" a dark-haired boy named Michael Corner eagerly shared. "She valued wit and learning above all else."
"Our common room has the best view in Hogwarts," added Terry Boot. "It's in one of the tallest towers."
"Perfect for someone who likes climbing," Harry thought to himself, earning a chuckle from Anakin.
"Just don't get any ideas about scaling the outside walls," Anakin's voice echoed in his mind. "Though I have to admit, the view must be spectacular from up there."
Once the last student was sorted, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table. His eyes twinkled as he spread his arms wide. "Let the feast begin!"
Suddenly, the empty golden plates before them filled with every kind of food imaginable. Roast beef, chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon, steak, potatoes prepared in various ways, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, and more appeared as if by magic.
"Master," Harry thought, amazed, "how did they do that?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Anakin admitted, equally impressed. "But think of all the times this would have come in handy during our training sessions. No more hunting for berries or carrying ration packs!"
Harry was about to reach for some roast beef when an ethereal figure floated through the table. It was a beautiful woman in flowing robes, her translucent form giving off a silvery glow.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw, dear ones," she said in a melodious voice. "I am the Grey Lady."
Harry watched in fascination as other ghosts drifted through the Great Hall - a fat friar near the Hufflepuff table, a ghost with a ruff around his neck by the Gryffindors, and a rather grim-looking ghost covered in silvery blood near the Slytherins.
"Anna," Harry whispered, "how are there ghosts here? Are they real?"
"As real as you and me," Anna explained. "They're the imprints of witches and wizards who chose to remain behind after death. The Grey Lady is our house ghost - she's actually Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena."
"Now that's something you don't see every day," Anakin commented. "Though I suppose I'm not one to talk about spiritual manifestations."
Harry loaded his plate while listening to his housemates discuss their backgrounds. Lisa Turpin was from a wizarding family but lived in muggle London. Padma Patil had a twin sister who'd been sorted into Gryffindor. Terry Boot was explaining the intricacies of Wizard's Chess to a fascinated Hermione.
"This is quite different from the Temple dining hall," Anakin mused. "Less meditation, more conversation. I like it."
"What was it like there?" Harry thought back while sampling the Yorkshire pudding.
"Quiet, mostly. Younglings were expected to focus on their food and reflect on their training. Though there was always that one padawan who'd try to use the Force to steal extra desserts."
"Let me guess - that was you?"
"I plead the fifth," Anakin replied with a mental grin. "Though if Obi-Wan were here. He might have told you different stories."
The feast continued with course after course. When the main dishes disappeared, they were replaced by desserts - blocks of ice cream in every flavor imaginable, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs, jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, and more.
Hermione turned to Harry. "What subject are you most looking forward to? I can't wait for Transfiguration - being able to turn one thing into another must be incredibly complex magic!"
"Definitely Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry replied. "Though Charms sounds interesting too."
"Both excellent choices," the Grey Lady commented as she drifted past. "Professor Flitwick, our Head of House, teaches Charms. He's quite brilliant."
"Speaking of defense," Anakin chimed in Harry's mind, "don't forget what I taught you about staying aware of your surroundings. Just because you're in a school doesn't mean you should let your guard down completely."
Harry glanced around the Great Hall, taking in the positions of the exits, the layout of the tables, and the various people present. It had become second nature after Anakin's training.
"Good," Anakin approved. "Though I doubt you'll need to worry about battle droids here. Still, constant vigilance never hurts."
"Hey, Master? You mentioned battle droids before. What were they like?"
"Oh Force," Anakin's mental voice carried a mix of amusement and exasperation. "They were probably the dumbest things ever created in the galaxy. And I mean spectacularly stupid."
"They couldn't have been that bad," Harry said skeptically.
"Let me share some examples. Picture this:" Anakin's tone became theatrical. "We're in the middle of a battle, and one droid turns to another and says 'You're getting ahead! Wait up!' while literally getting shot at. Or my personal favorite: 'Was that supposed to be a hit?' right before exploding."
Harry snorted. "You're making this up."
"I wish I was. There was this one time a droid picked up its own severed arm and tried to use it as a weapon. Another time, I heard one say 'Where are you going?' to its headless body as its head rolled away."
"How did they win any battles?"
"Numbers, kid. Lots and lots of numbers. Their favorite tactical approach was 'roger roger' followed by walking straight into blaster fire. Oh, and they'd often announce their surprise attacks. Actually say 'surprise attack' out loud while attacking."
"That's... that's just..."
"The worst part? Someone programmed them with personality. Nervous, chatty personalities. Imagine an army of anxious, talkative metal soldiers who'd stop in the middle of combat to comment on the weather."
"Please tell me you're exaggerating,"
"I once heard a droid complain about how cleaning its joints wasn't in its programming... while trying to shoot at me. They made terrible guards too. You could literally walk past them if you acted confident enough."
"How did anyone take them seriously?"
"That's the best part – we didn't. Even the Clo-- Troopers used to make bets on what stupid things they'd say before being destroyed. Though I'll give them this – they were consistently entertaining."
"At least we don't announce our surprise attacks."
"Well, technically shouting your spells is kind of—"
"Don't ruin this for me, Master."
Harry was just reaching for a second helping of treacle tart, his new favorite dessert, when a searing pain shot through his forehead. He dropped his fork with a clatter onto the golden plate, his hand flying to his lightning-bolt scar. The pain was sharp and unexpected, unlike anything he'd felt before.
"What's wrong?" Anakin's concerned voice echoed in his mind.
Looking up past the floating candles that illuminated the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling, Harry's eyes were drawn to the long staff table positioned on the raised platform at the far end of the hall. There, seated between a nervous-looking man in a purple turban and a tiny professor who barely reached the table's height, sat a hook-nosed professor dressed in flowing black robes that seemed to absorb the candlelight around him. His sallow skin and shoulder-length greasy black hair framed a face contorted with undisguised animosity. The professor's dark eyes, glittering with malice, locked onto Harry's green ones with such intensity, it would make Vernon seem like a gentle man.
"Master, that professor at the end of the table..."
"The one in black who looks like he's trying to drill holes in your head with his eyes?" Anakin's tone was wary. "Must be the Snape that Anna warned you about earlier."
Harry turned to Anna, who sat across from him at the long Ravenclaw table, her prefect badge gleaming against her blue-trimmed robes as she spooned chocolate pudding into her bowl. "Anna, who's that professor in the black robes?"
The warm smile that had been present on Anna's face throughout the feast vanished instantly. Before she could answer, a tall fifth-year boy with short brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses leaned across the table, his voice low despite the general chatter filling the hall.
"That's Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House and our Potions master."
A collective groan rippled through the nearby Ravenclaws, causing several desserts to be pushed away as appetites suddenly diminished. Even the floating candles above seemed to dim slightly.
"What did he do to make everyone react like that?" Harry asked, straightening his own blue-trimmed robes as he shifted on the bench to better face his housemates.
A second-year girl with copper-colored hair pulled into a neat plait leaned forward, her freckled face scrunching up with displeasure. Her half-eaten éclair lay forgotten on her plate as she spoke. "Professor Snape is... well, he's absolutely dreadful to anyone who isn't in Slytherin. He shows such blatant favoritism to his house that it's ridiculous."
"He's the reason we haven't won the House Cup in years," added another student, a third-year whose tie was slightly askew. His fingers drummed nervously on the wooden table as he spoke. "We can earn all the points we want in other classes, but one Potions lesson with Snape, and poof! There go twenty points because someone 'breathed too loudly' or 'stirred their potion too enthusiastically.'"
Anna's blue eyes darted quickly to the staff table before she leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's best to keep your head down in his class, Harry. Don't give him any reason to single you out. Just do your work quietly and try to be invisible."
"Sounds like a real charmer," Anakin commented sarcastically in Harry's mind. "Reminds me of certain Council members who had it out for me. Keep your guard up around him, but don't let him intimidate you. Just be respectful and stay alert."
Harry glanced back at the staff table, taking in the way Snape's black robes billowed slightly in the draft from the nearby window, making him look like an oversized bat. Though the professor had turned his attention to the turbaned man beside him, Harry could still feel the lingering discomfort from their eye contact.
"There's something else," Harry thought to Anakin, absently adjusting his new Ravenclaw tie. "When our eyes met, my scar hurt. That's never happened before."
"Interesting," Anakin mused. "The Force works differently here, but that kind of connection... we'll need to keep an eye on that. Your scar isn't just a normal wound - it's tied to your past, to Voldemort. Stay vigilant, but don't jump to conclusions."
Harry nodded slightly, turning his attention back to his forgotten dessert. Around him, his fellow Ravenclaws had resumed their previous conversations, their voices mixing with the general din of the Great Hall.
"At least we know one thing," Anakin added, trying to lighten the mood. "If he's anything like the Council members I dealt with, his classroom probably isn't the best place to try that Force-enhanced acrobatics we've been practicing."
Harry nearly choked on the small bite of pudding he'd just taken, earning curious looks from his housemates. Hermione, sitting to his left with her bushy hair contained in a neat hairband, raised an eyebrow at his sudden coughing fit. The conversation soon turned to other topics, but Harry made a mental note to be extra careful in Potions class.
Earlier - Professors
"RAVENCLAW!" the Sorting Hat's declaration echoed through the Great Hall.
Professor Flitwick literally tumbled off his chair in excitement, quickly righting himself as he beamed with unbridled joy. "Oh, wonderful, wonderful!" he squeaked, scrambling back onto his seat. "Lily's son in Ravenclaw! You know, she was absolutely brilliant at Charms - could cast a Protean Charm in her fifth year! And her Ancient Runes work was extraordinary!"
"Indeed," McGonagall nodded, a slight smile gracing her typically stern features as she placed the Sorting Hat on the stool. "I must say, I'm not entirely surprised. When I accompanied him to Diagon Alley, he spent three hours in Flourish and Blotts. Had to practically drag him away from the Theoretical Magic section. Barely spared a glance at Quality Quidditch Supplies, despite his father's legacy."
Professor Mirabel Garlick leaned forward. "How fascinating! I have heard about Mister and Miss Potters, and I was certain he'd follow his parents into Gryffindor, but there's something rather delightful about surprises, isn't there?" Her warm brown eyes tracked Harry as he settled at the Ravenclaw table. "I do hope he has a gentle hand with plants."
"Gentle?" Snape's voice cut through their conversation like a poisoned blade. "The boy is nothing but an attention-seeking celebrity, just like his arrogant father. Strutting around Diagon Alley, no doubt basking in his undeserved fame-"
"Now really, Severus!" Flitwick interrupted, his usually cheerful voice carrying a sharp edge. "The boy has been in the castle for less than an hour. You haven't exchanged a single word with him!"
"I must agree," Professor Garlick added firmly, her normally gentle demeanor hardening slightly. "In my experience, the most remarkable blooms often come from seeds we least expect. Perhaps you might consider giving the boy a chance to grow into his own person before judging him so harshly?"
Dumbledore, who had been watching this exchange with keen interest, stroked his long silver beard. "Most intriguing," he mused, his blue eyes twinkling. "I confess I had anticipated young Harry in Gryffindor. But perhaps..." he paused thoughtfully, "perhaps this is precisely what he needs. After all, wisdom and wit can be just as valuable as courage and daring."
Snape's face had gone from sallow to nearly white with suppressed rage. "You all coddle the boy already. Mark my words, he'll prove to be nothing but a disappointment-"
"That's quite enough, Severus," McGonagall cut in sharply. "I spent a day with the child, and I can assure you he is nothing like what you imagine. He asked more questions about magical theory than any first-year I've ever escorted."
"Ooh, did he really?" Flitwick bounced excitedly. "I simply cannot wait to see what he can do in Charms! And with proper guidance..." He shot a meaningful look at Snape, "...and fair treatment, he might just surprise us all."
Professor Garlick nodded enthusiastically. "Every student deserves the chance to bloom in their own way, in their own time. Though I must admit," she added with a gentle laugh, "I hope he is good at Herbology. I really wish for students who would pay more attention to plants rather than which fancy spell they can use."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled even more brightly as he observed Harry chatting with his new housemates. "Yes," he murmured, almost to himself, "most intriguing indeed. I believe we can expect remarkable things from young Mr. Potter - though perhaps not in the way any of us anticipated."
Now
As the desserts, too, disappeared, Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
"Now that we are all fed and watered," he said, "I have a few more start-of-term notices. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
His twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table.
"Sounds like my kind of forest," Anakin commented. "The more forbidden something is, the more interesting it usually turns out to be."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, twisting into words.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"
The school bellowed:
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees..."
"Well, that's... unique," Anakin commented as the entire school sang in different tunes and at different speeds. "Can't say we had anything like this at the Temple."
Harry refused to sing along, much to Anakin's amusement; Hermione was attempting something that sounded like a classical piece. The last to finish were two redheaded twins at the Gryffindor table, who were singing a very slow funeral march.
"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
"Wotcher, Harry!" A familiar voice called out as the Ravenclaw first years gathered around their prefects. Tonks, her hair now electric blue instead of the bubblegum pink it had been on the train, bounced over from the Hufflepuff table. "Look at you, all sorted into the clever clogs house! And here I thought you'd end up in Hufflepuff after our fascinating train discussion about the best ways to sneak pudding from the kitchens."
"Nymphadora, shouldn't you be leading your own first years?" Anna asked, trying to maintain order among her charges.
Tonks's hair flared red. "Oi! What did I tell you about that name? It's just Tonks, or I'll remind everyone about the incident with the disappearing staircase last term!"
Anna flushed pink. "You promised never to mention that again!"
"Then you know my terms," Tonks grinned mischievously, then turned back to Harry. "Remember what I taught you on the train - the suits of armor on the third floor are terrible gossips. They know all the best shortcuts." She demonstrated by morphing her nose into a perfect replica of a suit of armor's visor, making the nearby first years giggle.
"Thanks, Tonks," Harry said, grinning.
"Off you go then, baby eagles!" Tonks said cheerfully. "And Harry - don't forget our deal about teaching you how to change your hair color. Though maybe we should start with something easier, like not tripping over your own feet. Not that I'm one to talk—" As if on cue, she stumbled over her robes, caught herself on a nearby Hufflepuff, and gave everyone a theatrical bow.
The Ravenclaw first years followed Anna and Robert Hilliard through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase, with Harry still chuckling at Tonks's antics.
"Keep track of these staircases," Anakin advised as they climbed. "They seem to have a mind of their own. Might need alternate routes if they decide to change while you're late for class."
Harry watched in amazement as some of the staircases did indeed move, connecting to different landings. The portraits on the walls moved too, their subjects visiting each other and pointing at the passing first years.
They climbed higher and higher, finally reaching a spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever. "Ravenclaw Tower," Robert explained as they climbed. "Our common room has the best view in the castle."
At last, they reached a door with no handle or keyhole, but a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.
"Unlike other houses that use passwords," Anna explained, "Ravenclaw Tower has its own way of testing those who wish to enter. The knocker asks a riddle - answer correctly, and you're allowed in."
Robert stepped forward and knocked once. The eagle's beak opened, and a musical voice asked: "I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. I have roads, but no cars. What am I?"
The first years looked at each other uncertainly, but Robert smiled. "Anyone want to try?"
Harry thought for a moment, remembering similar riddles Anakin had used in their training. "A map," he said confidently.
"Well reasoned," the knocker replied, and the door swung open.
"Excellent, Potter!" Robert beamed. "That's exactly how it works. If you get it wrong, you'll have to wait for someone else to come along and solve it. It helps us learn."
Harry wondered what would happen if someone desperately needed to go to the toilet, and the door refused to open until he solved the riddle.
They entered a wide, circular room with graceful arched windows hung with blue and bronze silks. The domed ceiling was painted with stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. Tables, chairs, and bookcases curved along the walls, and a white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood beside a door that led to the dormitories.
"This is incredible," Harry breathed.
"It's perfect for you," Anakin agreed. "A place of learning and wisdom. Though try not to spend all your time with those books - remember what we talked about making friends?"
"Boys' dormitories through that door and up the stairs on your right," Anna pointed. "Girls, the same on your left. Your belongings have already been brought up."
As Harry climbed the stairs to his dormitory with the other first-year boys, he felt a deep sense of belonging. The circular room contained five four-poster beds hung with deep blue, velvet curtains. Their trunks had indeed been brought up and placed at the foot of each bed.
"Well," Anakin said as Harry changed into his pajamas, "this is certainly a step up from that cupboard under the stairs and their poor excuse of a room they gave you."
Harry smiled as he climbed into bed. The sheets were cool and crisp, and through the window next to his bed, he could see the stars twinkling over the forbidden forest.
"Thank you, Master," he thought.
"For what?"
"For everything. For helping me get here. For teaching me. For being here."
There was a moment of warm silence before Anakin replied. "You're welcome, my young padawan. Now get some sleep - tomorrow's when the real adventure begins."
As Harry drifted off to sleep, he could hear the wind whistling around the tower, the soft breathing of his dormmates, and the occasional hoot of an owl. For the first time in his life, he felt truly at home.
.
.
Tomorrow
The Scottish dawn painted the castle walls in soft hues of pink and gold as Harry Potter, decidedly not in his bed like other first-years, clung to the ancient stonework of Ravenclaw Tower. The morning dew made the stones slightly slippery, but Harry's fingers found purchase in the centuries-old gaps between blocks, his bare feet steady against the weathered surface.
"You know," Anakin's voice echoed in his mind, tinged with amusement, "most students usually wait until at least the second week before they start breaking school rules."
Harry snorted, carefully testing a protruding stone before shifting his weight. "Since when have we ever done things the normal way, Master?" He glanced down at the dizzying drop below, the morning mist swirling around the tower's base. "Besides, I need to keep up with my training. Can't let myself get soft just because I'm at a magic school."
"McGonagall might have a stroke if she sees you spider-climbing down the tower like this."
"Bold of you to assume she'd recognize me from this high up," Harry quipped, swinging himself onto a convenient gargoyle. "All she'd see is a very ambitious blue bird."
Anakin's laughter echoed in his mind. "A blue bird with terrible fashion sense. Those pajamas are practically glowing in the sunrise."
"Says the man who spent years wearing robes, you said yourself that the Jedi fashion sucked," Harry retorted, starting to move horizontally across the castle wall toward Gryffindor Tower. "At least my pajamas have little snitches on them."
"Those aren't snitches, they're badly drawn pears."
"They're snitches!"
"Pears."
"SNITCHES!"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, young one." Anakin paused. "Speaking of sleep, why exactly are we heading toward Gryffindor Tower?"
Harry's grin turned mischievous as he maneuvered around a particularly ornate buttress. "Well, Ronald Weasley was pretty vocal about Ravenclaws being stuck-up bookworms at dinner yesterday. I thought maybe their common room could use some... redecorating."
"Harry..."
"Nothing permanent! Just some creative rearrangement of furniture. Maybe charm their red and gold banners to flash 'Books Are Our Friends' in sparkly letters."
Anakin snorted. "You're reminding me more and more of Ahsoka every day. She didn't try to pull pranks, well, not often, but was kind and knew how to be...well, her."
Harry's ears perked up at the mention of this Ahsoka. He'd heard the name before but never gotten much detail. "Ahsoka?" He asked, pausing his climb to catch his breath on a wide stone ledge.
There was a long pause, filled with what Harry had come to recognize as bittersweet memories. "I already told her she was my Padawan - my apprentice," Anakin said. "Clever, rebellious, and had a knack for finding trouble that rivaled my own. The Council assigned her to me, thinking she might help me become more responsible." He chuckled darkly. "Instead, we enabled each other's worst habits and gave Master Obi-Wan more gray hairs than he deserved."
"What happened to her?" Harry asked softly, sensing the weight behind Anakin's words.
"Some things are better left in the past, young one," Anakin replied, his mental voice carrying years of regret. "But she would have liked you. You both share that same spark of defiance and determination to do things your own way."
Harry nodded, respecting the boundary while filing away this rare piece of information about his master's past. He resumed his climb, now only meters away from one of Gryffindor Tower's windows.
"Speaking of doing things our own way," Harry muttered, reaching out with the Force. The window's latch clicked softly, and the glass pane swung silently outward. "What's the betting they don't even have basic security charms on their windows?"
"Considering they're supposedly in one of the highest towers in the castle, they probably didn't expect anyone to come climbing in like a particularly determined mountain goat."
"I prefer to think of myself as a graceful cat burglar," Harry said, sliding through the window into what appeared to be a storage room filled with spare furniture and old portraits.
"A cat burglar in pear-covered pajamas."
"They're SNITCHES!"
A portrait of an elderly witch with an enormous hat stirred in its frame. "Who's there? Is someone breaking curfew?"
Harry froze, then relaxed as he remembered something from "Hogwarts: A History." "No, ma'am," he replied politely. "Just a dream. Go back to sleep."
The portrait mumbled something about "youngsters these days" before resuming its snoring.
"Smooth," Anakin commented. "Now, what's this brilliant plan of yours?"
Harry crept to the storage room door, pressing his ear against it. The Force told him the common room beyond was empty. "Well, I was thinking... how do you feel about helping me transfigure all their furniture into study desks?"
"You know I can't actually affect the physical world, right?"
"No, but you can help me remember the transfiguration theory I read about. And maybe spot for any early risers while I work?"
Anakin sighed dramatically. "I'm supposed to be teaching you wisdom and responsibility, not helping you pull pranks on other houses."
"Consider it a practical lesson in stealth, transfiguration, and creative problem-solving?"
"...You've been practicing that argument, haven't you?"
"Since dinner yesterday," Harry admitted, easing the door open and slipping into the Gryffindor common room. The circular space was warm and cozy, decorated in rich reds and golds, with squashy armchairs scattered around and a massive fireplace dominating one wall. "Besides, they started it with all that 'Ravenclaws are just dusty bookworms' talk."
"And your solution is to prove them wrong by... turning their common room into a library?"
Harry paused in the act of drawing his wand. "When you put it that way, it does seem a bit counterproductive." He brightened. "Oh! What if instead I charm all their quills to only write in Ravenclaw blue?"
"For someone sorted into the house of wisdom, your revenge plans need work."
"I'm eleven! My evil schemes are still in development!"
A creak from the dormitory stairs made them both freeze. Harry quickly ducked behind a large armchair as footsteps approached.
"Master," Harry thought urgently, "I may not have planned this far ahead."
"Really? The kid who spent twenty minutes arguing the tactical advantages of climbing down a tower didn't think about an escape route?"
"I was going to wing it!"
"Ah yes, the classic Skywalker approach to mission planning. I've taught you too well."
The footsteps grew closer. Harry could see a shadow approaching around the corner of the spiral staircase.
"Any brilliant suggestions?" Harry thought desperately.
"Well, you could try-"
But before Anakin could finish, Harry had already made his decision. With a quick Force-enhanced leap, he sprang from behind the chair, over the approaching person's head, and bolted for the portrait hole.
"WHAT THE- INTRUDER!" Percy Weasley's startled voice echoed behind him as Harry burst through the portrait of the Fat Lady, who squawked indignantly.
"Sorry!" Harry called back, already sprinting down the corridor. "Just testing your security! You might want to charm those windows!"
"GET BACK HERE!" Percy's voice echoed off the stone walls. "TWENTY POINTS FROM... whoever you are!"
Harry skidded around a corner, his sock-clad feet sliding on the smooth stone floor. "Master, I could use some navigation help!"
"I don't know this castle, how am I supposed to know where you should go?!"
Harry dove behind the tapestry just as Percy's thundering footsteps passed by. The prefect's voice echoed down the corridor: "When I catch you..."
After Percy's footsteps faded, Harry sagged against the wall of the secret passage, trying to catch his breath between giggles.
"Well," Anakin's dry voice commented in his head, "that was certainly one way to start the morning. Though I think we can file this under 'plans that need more development.'"
"Are you kidding?" Harry grinned, still slightly out of breath. "That was brilliant! Did you see Percy's face when I jumped over him? Plus, now we know their security really is terrible. Though I suppose I should work on the whole 'escape route' thing for next time."
"Next time?" Anakin's tone was a mixture of resignation and amusement. "You're already planning a next time?"
"Well, I didn't actually get to do any pranking this time, did I? And I did all that climbing for nothing!"
"Speaking of climbing..." Anakin's mental voice took on a more serious tone. "How exactly are you planning to get back to Ravenclaw Tower? Since you're currently in your pajamas, without shoes, and probably can't walk through the main corridors without being spotted?"
Harry's triumphant grin faded slightly. "Ah."
"'Ah' indeed, young one."
"I don't suppose you know any secret passages that lead directly to Ravenclaw Tower?"
"I have never been here before." Anakin reminded him again.
"Weren't you a Jedi in your life? Aren't you supposed to be old and wise?"
"First of all, kid, I was more of the 'jump out of speeders and ask questions later' type of Jedi. And second, my idea of a shortcut usually involved a lightsaber and making my own door. Somehow I don't think Professor Flitwick would appreciate that architectural approach."
Harry snorted. "So what you're saying is you were basically a Gryffindor with a laser sword? The Sorting Hat hit the nail right in the head."
"Hey! I'll have you know I had plenty of brilliant plans..." Anakin paused. "They just usually ended up involving explosions. Or falling. Or both."
"And you lecture ME about being careful?"
"Do as I say, not as I did. Besides, I didn't have an ancient voice of wisdom in MY head giving excellent advice."
"Ancient? I thought you said you weren't that old," Harry teased.
"Watch it, padawan, or I'll start telling you stories about walking uphill both ways to the Jedi Temple."
"Did they even have hills on Coruscant?"
"This would be an excellent time to remind you about the importance of planning ahead..."
"Master, please! Less lecturing, more helping!"
Later
By the time they finally made it back to Ravenclaw Tower (through a combination of Force-enhanced acrobatics, careful timing, and one particularly desperate dash past a near-sighted Mrs. Norris), the sun was fully up and other students were beginning to stir.
"You know," Harry thought as he quickly changed into his school robes, "even though the prank didn't work out, this was still a pretty good morning."
"Because you got to practice your climbing skills?"
"Because you told me about Ahsoka," Harry replied honestly. "You don't talk about your past much, but I like learning about it. Makes me feel like... like I know you better."
There was a long pause, and then Anakin's mental voice came back, softer than usual. "Well, don't get used to it. I have a reputation as a mysterious and dramatic mentor to maintain."
Harry snorted as he grabbed his book bag. "Master, you once spent an entire hour arguing with me about whether treacle tart or chocolate gateau was the superior dessert."
"It was an important philosophical discussion!"
"You threatened to haunt my dreams with images of vegetables if I didn't agree with you about the treacle tart!"
"And I stand by that threat. Now hurry up, you've got Charms Class first period, and something tells me Professor Flitwick won't accept 'I was busy planning pranks on Gryffindor' as an excuse for being late."
As Harry hurried down to breakfast, already planning improvements for his next early morning adventure, he couldn't help but smile. Maybe the prank hadn't worked out as planned, but somehow, the morning had given him something even better.
Though he was definitely going to have to do something about those windows in Gryffindor Tower. Perhaps next time with a better escape route... and shoes.
"I heard that," Anakin's voice commented.
"Heard what? I'm just thinking about educational opportunities for inter-house cooperation."
"Right. And I'm just a simple monk who never caused any trouble."
"You know, Master, one of these days you're going to have to tell me that story too."
"Focus on your breakfast, young one. And maybe try not to look too suspicious when Percy Weasley walks by."
"Me? Suspicious? I'm the very picture of innocence!"
"Says the boy who just tried to break into another house's common room while wearing pear-covered pajamas."
"THEY'RE SNITCHES!"
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