Harry Potter: A Star Wars Adventure (Ch. 2) (Patreon)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Harry Potter: A Star Wars Adventure

Chapter 2

The next morning, Harry woke up to the annoying sound of speeders outside and the sour stink of the sewage trench. He blinked, stretched, and sat up on his new mattress. His first thought was that he needed a shower. Harry yawned and waved his hand over his body, removing the sand and grime. His teeth were also magically cleaned.

He looked out the window and saw that it was still early morning, but the city sounded like it had never slept. He stood and ran his fingers through his dark hair until it looked acceptably messy. He did his usual morning routine, then dug into his satchel for one of the survival ration bars he’d brought with him. It didn’t taste very good, but at least it was loaded with calories and nutrients. 

He grabbed his clothes and tugged them on. ‘I definitely need some new clothes,’ Harry told himself. He’d need to blend in, and for that, he’d need a new wardrobe. That meant he needed money, and Harry doubted Watto would give him a loan. 

He left his room, used his magic to securely lock the door, and headed out into the city. The sunlit alleys were already full of crooks committing their petty crimes, and Harry grinned to himself. He’d always been a bit of a rule breaker. If he wanted money, he’d just have to out-thieve the thieves.

He started by walking the main avenue and watching the people. He spotted pickpockets, conmen, and spice dealers openly hawking their wares. He noted which shops were legit, which were fronts, and which were ripe for the picking. Harry wasn’t looking to become a mob boss, but he needed a quick score.

After half an hour, he targeted a cantina. It was a ratty place with no windows, and the only light came from sickly green tubes on the ceiling. The sign above the door read “Gork’s”. Inside, the air was heavy with the smell of body odor and alcohol. Harry picked a spot at the bar and ordered a glass of the local booze, which cost him three of his ill-gotten coins. Harry took a drink and nearly coughed. It tasted terrible, and it scorched his throat. 

He sipped it slowly, watching every move. There was a Sullustan cheating at a dice game, and a group of pig-faced Gamorreans arm-wrestling for small stacks of the local coins. At the far end, he saw a human with a cybernetic hand quietly swapping cards at a sabacc table. This was the mark, Harry decided. The man was a really good cheater, so Harry thought the take would be worth it.

Harry waited until the game broke up, then followed the man outside. As he did, Harry waved his hand in front of his face, applying a Glamour Charm. He tailed him for a block before stepping into the open. “Hey,” he called out. “I think you dropped this.” He lobbed a coin at the guy, who caught it on instinct.

That was all the distraction Harry needed. The man was fast, but Harry was faster. A silent Impediment Jinx froze the man’s feet to the ground. Harry stepped up, snatched the coin purse from the man’s vest, and walked away before the guy even realized he’d been hexed. He heard the man cursing and kicking at the pavement as the jinx faded, but by then Harry was long gone.

He checked the coin purse in a nearby alley. There was a stack of Peggats, a few Truguts, and a smattering of Wupiupi. Harry pocketed the coins and tossed the purse. It wasn’t much, but it would get him started.

He hit a clothing stall and grabbed a set of boots, a few cream-colored tunics, and a few sets of trousers. He paid in full without bothering to haggle. Harry didn’t want to be remembered. 

Harry Potter: A Star Wars Adventure

Harry spent the better part of the morning on a mission to figure out the food situation. His original plan had been to swing by the market district, grab something edible-looking, and be done with it. But the longer he lingered among the open-air stalls, the more he realized how out of his depth he was. There were hundreds of options, and the food smelled strange and unfamiliar. Every other booth was run by a non-human, and he wasn’t sure if their food was human-safe.

He started with reconnaissance. There were a lot of humans in Mos Espa, and all of them needed to eat. Harry watched carefully to see what the locals ate and which stalls had human customers. He noticed that most of the humans only bought from other humans, or from booths where the food looked vaguely like something you’d find back on Earth. He also realized that a lot of the more disgusting-looking foods went to the more dangerous-looking customers, and something told him he shouldn’t try to eat what a Trandoshan ordered for lunch.

He circled the market square, weighing his options. He peered over the shoulders of a group of scruffy miners as they paid for their bowls of something steaming, then watched two kids share a greasy pastry. He watched a girl with a shaved head barter with a surly vendor for a kebab loaded with blue-tinged sausages. The girl scowled, handed over a coin, then took a bite and grinned in a way that made Harry both hungry and a little queasy.

Harry decided to try the kebab. When he approached, the vendor glared at him. “You want mild spice or extra-hot?” the man barked, not even looking up from his grill.

“Mild,” Harry said without hesitation. He wasn’t sure what they considered extra-hot. 

The vendor jabbed a stick of sausages into a flatbread, slathered it with a thick yellow sauce, and handed it over. Harry took one bite and nearly dropped it. The sausage had the texture of an overcooked slug, and the sauce was brinier than seawater, but at least it didn’t hurt going down. He wiped the sauce off his lips and forced himself to finish the kebab. The vendor watched him the whole time, smirking.

“Not bad,” Harry lied, and the vendor barked a laugh.

He moved on, sampling a few more stalls. He found a woman selling something like fried potato cakes, though they were made from a root vegetable that tasted like a carrot. He bought two and ate them as quickly as he could, since the vendor’s pet monkey-thing kept trying to snatch one out of his hand. Next, he tried a bowl of noodles from a stall run by a Rodian. The noodles were black and gum-like, and they turned his tongue blue for the rest of the day.

He quickly learned that not all food was created equal. He watched a pair of Jawas eat what looked like moldy, living worms out of a glass dish, and he almost lost his appetite entirely. He saw a Sullustan snort a line of powder before eating a handful of dried fruit, and he made a mental note to avoid anything that came in a powder packet. He bought a cup of “energy tea” from a woman with a giant boil on her cheek, and though it was caffeinated, the aftertaste lingered for hours and left his mouth a little tingley.

Harry wandered from stall to stall, asking questions and watching what others did. He realized he was too curious for his own good, and that in Mos Espa, curiosity might actually get you poisoned. He overheard a vendor claim his food would “put hair on your lekku,” and Harry grinned at the joke until he realized he didn’t know what a lekku was. He watched a pair of very large aliens barter for a sack of bread-like rolls, then eat them by popping the whole thing in their mouth at once. He tried it with his own roll and nearly choked. Harry chewed until his jaw ached. It wasn’t bad, though. The bread was tough, but also rich and filling, and it tasted a bit like sourdough.

Harry liked the bread so much he bought a sack of it for the week. Not wanting to bring too much attention to himself, Harry left the area to see what else this city had to offer. 

Harry Potter: A Star Wars Adventure

Harry drifted invisibly through the market crowd. His footsteps were silent, and his presence went unnoticed even by the most paranoid street urchin. Carefully, he made his way down the busiest avenue, pausing every few meters to listen in on deals and arguments while sizing up the suckers and the sharks. He was looking for a mark who wouldn’t even realize they’d been had until he was half a district away.

He spotted his opportunity outside a grimy cantina. A Zabrak with tattoos covering his face was harassing a Nautolan who swayed on his feet and clutched a half-finished bottle. The Nautolan snapped something in a slurred language Harry didn’t understand, and the Zabrak responded with a threat. If there was one universal truth, Harry figured, it was that drunks always made easy targets.

He strolled beside them, gave the Zabrak a shove, and watched the dominoes fall. The Zabrak tumbled into the Nautolan, spilling his drink everywhere, and both whirled around looking for the culprit. They only saw each other. Instantly, the argument exploded into a brawl. The Zabrak threw the first punch, and the Nautolan answered back with a drunken punch of his own. It quickly turned into a wrestling match, which sent both tumbling right into a vendor’s stall, sending platters of sticky fruit flying. The vendor screamed and tried to separate them, but only managed to get elbowed in the gut.

The crowd swarmed in to watch, and Harry was right in the thick of it. He calmly pointed his fingers and summoned the coin purses from both fighters’ belts. They zipped through the air and landed neatly in the palm of his hand. Harry concealed them inside his satchel without missing a beat. The brawl was now a full-on melee, with half a dozen onlookers wading in for the fun of it. Coins and fruit rolled everywhere. Harry snagged a drifting loaf of bread and pocketed it for later, then apparated thirty feet away before things got too hairy. 

He rounded a corner and slowed his pace to a stroll. Once he was a safe distance away, he dropped his Disillusionment and appraised his ill-gotten loot. The Zabrak’s purse was heavy with coins, while the Nautolan’s bag contained a handful of small gemstones and a few Peggats. Harry whistled, impressed by the take. ‘Not bad for a day’s work,’ Harry told himself. He kept one gem in hand, stuffed the purses back into his satchel, and carried on.

Harry had just started rolling one of the blue stones between his fingers when he heard shouting back at the corner. He peeked out and saw the Zabrak chasing the Nautolan down the street. Both of them were bloodied and still screaming. “Idiots,” Harry muttered, and he tossed the stone into the air and caught it with a grin.

He strolled down the next street, whistling tunelessly and thinking about what he’d do with his newfound wealth. He’d already bought new clothes, but he could use a few upgrades for his room, and maybe a stockpile of food. He could use at least one good bottle of alcohol. For now, he walked the city with confident steps and a light heart. 

Harry meandered until he found a quiet alley, and he ducked into the shade to cool down. He leaned back against the cool stone, drank deeply from his enchanted canteen, and wondered if every city on this planet would prove as easy to scam as Mos Espa. “There’s only one way to find out,” Harry said as he dumped some cold water over his head. 

Harry Potter: A Star Wars Adventure

Harry didn’t head back to Watto’s shop right away. He spent a while wandering the alleys, poking through junk heaps, and watching the locals go about their business. Even after a morning of easy thieving, he felt jumpy, like the whole city was watching him. He took a long detour around the droid market, eavesdropped on a spice deal that nearly turned into a knife fight, and paused to watch a group of women trying to sell their bodies on a street corner. Every turn led to another surprise, but after a while, the novelty wore off. This was just another city. It stank, it was loud, and everyone was in it for themselves. Harry didn’t mind it so much.

When the suns began their slow drift toward the horizon, Harry realized that he had ten new money purses stuffed in his satchel and no good reason to keep prowling. He doubled back to Watto’s, skulking his way through the bazaar and slipping past a pair of annoyed Wookies who looked like they’d rather just shoot everyone and be done with it. The outskirts of the market seemed a bit more dangerous, but Harry’s wandless magic let him flit through the shadows without so much as a second glance from the locals.

He reached the junk shop at the hottest part of the afternoon. The city shimmered with heat waves, and everyone was drenched in sweat. Harry ducked inside just as a one-armed protocol droid walked out.

Watto was behind the counter, and his wings fluttered in agitation as he barked at a pair of children who had dropped a pile of circuit boards on the floor. The Toydarian looked up and greeted Harry with a grunt. “You’re late,” he snapped, then floated over the counter and jabbed a finger at Harry’s chest. “You owe me ten liters … no, twelve! I charge extra for lateness.”

Harry shrugged, brushing Watto’s hand aside. “I’ll go get it,” Harry told him. 

Harry went out back to his rented room. He conjured a large jug and filled it with crystal-clear water. Harry lugged the heavy jug back to the shop and hefted it onto the counter with a loud thunk. “There you go,” Harry said.

Watto grumbled, but he took the jug and got right to work testing its purity. He dunked a probe in, watched the numbers spike, then nodded approvingly. “Good water. Not like the Bantha piss some people try to sell me.”

Harry rolled his eyes and looked around. The shop was stuffed to the rafters with junk, but even so, Harry’s eye caught a glint of silver from a rack behind Watto’s desk. He waited for the Toydarian to finish his rant about the price of water before asking, “How much for the blaster?”

Watto’s eyes narrowed. “Which one?” he said, flitting over to the rack.

Harry pointed at a well-cared-for DL-18. The holster was scuffed, but the grip still looked solid, and the barrel was cleaner than anything else in the shop. “That one. Does it work?”

“Of course it works! What do you take me for, huh?” Watto said, offended by the question. He yanked the blaster off the rack, hefted it in his tiny hand, and aimed it right at Harry’s chest. “See? Good as new.” He squeezed the trigger. There was a soft click. Watto snickered and tossed the blaster to Harry, who caught it easily.

“Four Truguts,” Watto said. “... and eight Wupiupi for the holster. If you want the power cell, then it’s extra.”

Harry rolled the blaster in his palm, weighing it. “I want the power cell, too.”

Watto shrugged and tossed him the holster. “Six Truguts and ten Wupiupi. Tell everyone Watto gave you a good deal, huh?”

Harry fished the coins out of his pocket and counted them onto the counter. Watto swept them up with a greedy little swipe of his fingers, then produced a box of power cells. “Don’t shoot yourself, boy,” Watto said, chuckling at his own joke.

Harry holstered the blaster, tightened the belt around his waist, and nodded his thanks. “I’ll try not to,” he said. Having a blaster on his hip felt oddly reassuring, even though he’d never fired one in his life. A lot of people in this city wore one on their hip. He supposed it was their way to show force. 

He was just about to head out back to his rented room when he heard footsteps behind him. Harry turned and saw a small, dirty blonde boy in a tunic. His hands and face were smeared with grease. The kid was struggling to carry a crate half his size, and he staggered into the shop with a determined little grimace.

“Hey, Watto!” the boy shouted, dropping the crate with a clang. “The droid parts are all cleaned up and ready to go.”

Watto grunted as he counted the day’s earnings. “About time, Ani. You can leave early today.”

The boy’s face broke into a tired but genuine grin. He wiped his hands on his trousers and turned to Harry, taking him in with an assessing look. “I’m Anakin,” he said, sticking out his hand.

Harry shook it, and he was surprised at the strength of the kid’s grip. “Harry,” he replied.

Anakin didn’t let go, just stared at him with an intensity that bordered on unnerving. “You’re new,” the boy said.

“I just got here yesterday,” Harry answered, matching the boy’s gaze.

The kid’s face lit up again. “I like your blaster,” Anakin said, pointing at Harry’s holster. “I know how to fix those if it jams.”

“Maybe you can show me sometime,” Harry said, smiling.

Watto scowled and waved them both off. “No more talking, Anakin! Go home before I make you clean the power converters again.”

Anakin stuck his tongue out at Watto and dashed toward the door, but he paused to glance back at Harry. “Do you want to come with me? I know all the best secret places in Mos Espa. I can show you the best ones.”

Harry gave it about half a second of thought. He’d planned on laying low for the rest of the day, but this was too perfect to pass up. “Lead the way,” he said.

Anakin grinned like he’d just pulled off the world’s greatest prank, and together they slipped out into the heat and dust of the street.

Harry followed Anakin, who ducked and weaved through the narrow alleys with astonishing speed. He led them past rows of shuttered stalls and through a maze of rubble and scrap. They passed a Jawa trading post, where the scrawny little scavengers watched them with beady, suspicious eyes. They hopped over a collapsed fence and squeezed through a gap in the wall, and suddenly they were in a hidden courtyard, shielded from the sun and most of the city’s noise.

Anakin slumped down on an old crate and looked at Harry, sizing him up again. “So where are you really from?” he asked.

Harry hesitated. He could have lied, but something in the kid’s expression told him not to bother. “Not here,” he said. “Pretty far away, actually.”

Anakin nodded like this was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re good at sneaking. I saw you in the market this morning.”

Harry laughed, caught off guard by the kid’s honesty. “You have good eyes.”

“My mom says I notice things,” Anakin said, puffing out his narrow chest. “She says I’m going to be the best pilot ever.”

“I’m sure you will,” Harry said with a pleasant smile. 

For a while, they just sat and chatted while cooling off in the shaded alcove. After a few minutes, Anakin stood up, dusted himself off, and said, “You wanna see my podracer?”

Harry didn’t know what a podracer was, but he was eager to find out. He followed Anakin to the city’s edge, where a long line of small stone rooms stood. Behind one, Anakin had cobbled together a sleek podracer from parts that looked like they’d been scrounged from the trash. “I built it myself,” Anakin said, brimming with pride. Harry could see why. It looked built for speed, and Harry really wanted to fly it himself. 

They spent the next hour tinkering with the podracer. Anakin explained every piece and every patch job. Harry watched closely, learning a little about the machine, but more about Anakin himself. His small hands were constantly working, and he didn’t stop talking the entire time. There was a sharp mind hiding behind that floppy, blonde hair. A few minutes later, someone shouted through the window. “Anakin! Why didn’t you tell me you were home?”

“Sorry, Mom!” he called out. Harry heard the clatter of metal, then the window above the workbench slid open. A woman’s face appeared. Her deep brown hair was swept back into a practical bun. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with a pleasant face. She spotted Harry and looked on with suspicion.

“Who’s this?” she asked. Her voice was soft and tired.

Anakin ran over to the window. “That’s Harry, Mom! He’s new in the city.”

Harry gave a polite wave and tried not to look too threatening. “Harry Potter,” he offered, “I rent a room behind Watto’s shop. Your son was nice enough to show me around the city.”

The woman thought about it for a second, then wiped her hands on the skirt of her gray dress and ducked out of the window. A moment later, the back door opened, and she emerged into the sunlight. Her gray dress was basically a tunic with a long skirt attached.

“I’m Shmi,” she said, coming to stand protectively beside Anakin. Her voice was careful, but Harry saw the way her hand settled on her son’s shoulder. “What brings you to Mos Espa, Harry Potter?”

“I’m just passing through,” Harry said, trying to keep his story simple. “I was looking for work and a place to stay. Your son’s already been a big help.”

Anakin beamed, then looked up at his mother with hopeful, pleading eyes. “Can he stay for dinner, Mom? Please?”

Shmi looked like she wanted to say no, but she couldn’t resist her son’s plea. Harry guessed they didn’t get a lot of visitors. She looked Harry up and down. “We don’t have much,” she finally said. “But you’re welcome to share what we have.”

“That’s very kind,” said Harry. He shot Anakin a smile, and the boy seemed to glow with pride at having brought home a guest.

Shmi ushered them both through the entryway and into a kitchen. The air inside was marginally cooler, and a table sat in the middle. Anakin gestured for Harry to sit, then scampered off to the back room as Shmi began arranging plates and cups with brisk efficiency.

“You work for Watto?” she asked with her back to Harry while she fished something from a lidded clay pot.

“Not exactly. I’m more of a tenant than an employee,” said Harry. “Just needed a place to lay low for a while, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” said Shmi in a flat voice. “A lot of people in this city want to lay low.”

Harry nodded, sensing she wanted the subject dropped. He looked around, taking in the details. There really wasn’t much to see. Everything they owned was old or partially broken. 

Anakin reappeared with a bowl of fruit and set it in the center of the table. He looked from his mother to Harry. “You should try the meiloorun, Harry. The moisture farmers grow it.”

Harry took a piece, bit into it, and nearly winced at the tartness. He smiled through it. “That’s … different,” he said, making Anakin laugh.

Through Shmi’s protest, Harry provided several loaves of bread and fresh water from his satchel. They ate in relative silence for a few minutes. Shmi kept glancing between Anakin and Harry, weighing each word before she spoke.

“So, Harry,” she said after a while. “What did you do before you came here?”

Harry thought about it for a second. He decided to pick a criminal job that wasn’t too bad. “I was a smuggler.” Many people in the city were smugglers, and he had heard them swapping stories. 

Shmi accepted this with a slow nod. “And where are you from?”

“Pretty far away. I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of it.”

“Try me,” said Shmi, and her eyes sharpened.

Harry smiled, but in her face, he saw the same steely expression that Aunt Petunia had whenever a strange neighbor showed up. He decided to say a name he had heard when walking around earlier. “Coruscant,” he said. “But not the nice part. I left after some trouble with the local authorities.” It was believable enough, and it seemed to satisfy her for the moment.

Anakin perked up. “Did you ever see a real Jedi?” he asked excitedly. 

Harry gave a little shrug. He didn’t even know what a Jedi was. “Once or twice. Never up close, though.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide. “I want to be a Jedi someday.”

Shmi shot her son a tight, warning look. “That’s just a dream,” she said. “Real people don’t get to be Jedi.”

“Who knows? There’s a first time for everything,” Harry said, which pleased Anakin. 

Shmi put down her fork and folded her hands in her lap. “You can stay the night if you want,” she said. “It’s safer than the streets after dark, and you seem decent enough.” Her tone made clear that any funny business would see Harry out the door before he could blink.

“Thank you,” Harry said. He really didn’t need to stay, but he wanted to experience as much as he could while he was still on this planet. 

After dinner, Harry helped clear the dishes and accepted a mug of hot, bitter tea. Anakin rattled off questions about blasters, droids, and podracers, and Harry answered as best he could, sometimes making things up just to see the kid’s eyes widen. The sky outside went from pink to purple to black, and the house got quiet as everyone grew tired. 

When Shmi finally sent Anakin to bed, she motioned for Harry to join her just outside the door. The night air was getting cold, and the city was filled with the distant sounds of speeders and drunken laughter from the cantinas. Shmi leaned against the wall, looking up at the stars.

“He’s a good boy,” she said quietly. “But he dreams too much.”

Harry stood beside her with his hands in his pockets. “He’s got the heart of an adventurer,” he said. “Maybe fate will surprise you.”

Shmi smiled faintly, but her eyes stayed fixed on the sky. “We can hope.” She turned to Harry and rubbed her goosebumped arms.

“Come on. Let’s go inside and get warm,” he said. Shmi nodded, and Harry followed her inside, closing the door behind them.