Full Summary:Awakening in a cramped stasis pod hurtling through space, Helia Potter, suffering from amnesia, did not know how, when, where or why she got where she did, only that something inside, deep in her soul, was calling her on. Armed with a broken twig, her lack of memories, and a strange metal tetrahedron, she has to swiftly piece together her shattered past or pay the ultimate price.

The death and destruction of everything she loves.

Tags: Female Harry Potter. Zabraks. Zabrak Harry Potter. Nightsisters explored. Nightbrothers explored. Dathomir. Dathomirian Culture. Dathomirian society. Polyandry. Sith Training. Sith Code. The Dark Side of the Force. The Force Is Complex. Neither Inherently Good Or Evil. Foursome - F/M/M/M. Slow Burn. Slow Build. Temporary Amnesia. It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You. Darth Maul Lives. Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence. Canon? Never Heard of Her. Teacher-Student Relationship. Sith Apprentice/Master. Sith Holocron. Green Zabraks. Additional Tags To Be added Later.

Relationships: Darth Maul/Harry Potter, Savage Opress/Harry Potter, Feral/Harry Potter, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker (friendshipt), Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano.

PROLOGUE:

She was trapped in that hazy land between places. Not quite lucid, but no longer dreaming. In fact, she did not recall her dream at all, although she was positive she had been dreaming when she drifted to sweetly soft awareness, buckled in the transport pod of a small space faring vessel. A patchwork craft built from a flotilla of damaged debris scavenged off the outer rim scrapyards.

Neither did she remember the day prior, or the week before that, or the month that followed, or the year that proceeded.

Indeed, there was not much she recollected at all.

Not her name.

Not her home.

Not her family or friends, if she had any.

It was if one windy, volatile day, she had yawned herself into existence. A pull and a pop, and bang, she was real. Like the birth of a star, hewn from its own gravitational wrench, she sparked to fiery life from nothing.

Well, not nothing, exactly.

Even stars were formed from gases.

She too must have building blocks.

Like her English accent, which she could not remember how she had obtained, or what precisely this English was.

Or the scar on her hand; I Must Not Tell Lies.

They came from somewhere, as stars came from gases. Nevertheless, as she looked back, tried and ached and pushed and pulled and-

Nothing.

Yes, she knew she had a past. She could sense it, in a way, She was aware that she had forgotten as one is aware of cavities, and black-holes, and silhouettes. It's the vacuity that draws the eye, and the curiosity that keeps it. She knew something should be there, and yet, she could not say what or who or when.

Perhaps she had thought herself into being one day. A creation of her own making, because, she was sure, she had left herself a breadcrumb trail. While she didn't remember much at all, she did remember something. The three needs, she called them.

She needed to escape those hunting her.

She needed to get to Dathomir.

She needed to find her father.

She could not specify a particular name of the shadows pursuing her, she only felt their breath on her neck, even here. She did not know what city or place this Dathomir was, only felt a sense of distant… Home, calling her back. She could not picture her father's face, but she knew, simply knew, if she were to look at it, she would see.

They said there were songs out there for the lost.

For those who mislaid their way.

Sad hymns that drew them home once more, if you sang it just right.

She thought she heard that song then, as she drifted awake completely. Sweet and pure as morning dew, strong and high and-

Or it was an alarm, as the pod flashed a sickening blue that penetrated her fluttering eyelids. She groaned as her hand snapped up, shielding her eyes from the blinding light.

The hatches of the stasis pod popped as they disengaged, steam wafting as the lid to the hull cracked and lifted.

She tumbled out into a heap of limbs, face grinding against the grated, grubby floor.

Guttural laughter, more bark than chuckle, echoed about her.

"Easy there, kid. Take your time, ease into it. Flopping about will only make it worse. The stasis drugs this side of the Galaxy are cheaper than Pyke's whores, and twice as likely to scramble your brain. Give it time, you'll get around to yourself again. Here, let me help ya."

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"Oh, Helia, one more thing?"

Helia, or so the lodger of the spacecraft stated she had signed her name as when boarding, carrying her small bundle, slowly turned around.

R'em's blunt, rounded face was stern, his toad-like eyes blinking out of sync.

"Careful, alright, kid? Try covering up. Hutt's collectors prowl Yipnara's streets. I ain't never seen a green Zabrak before, and I've seen a lot of folk coming and going through these backwaters. Hutt and his ilk would pay a pretty coin for merchandise so rare. Just... Be careful. Watch your step out there."

Thoughts?