The galaxy was quiet in its infancy.
Per Te stood on the ridge of a canyon world forgotten by maps, a planet bathed in twilight, its surface scarred by meteor strikes and tangled roots that pulsed faintly with life. The wind carried no voices here. Only the low hum of the Force rippled through the sand, like the breathing of a sleeping giant.
He exhaled, feeling that hum echo within him.
For weeks he had wandered, meditating between ancient ruins, testing spells against the invisible pressure of the Force. He called it The Resonance Field, a convergence point where thought and energy met. He had learned to see it: not through eyes, but through memory, every movement of the Force carried color, rhythm, intent.
A whispered Lumos bloomed in his palm, the white light swirling like liquid crystal.
But when he combined it with a pulse of the Force, the sphere warped, it fractured into smaller orbs, orbiting him like miniature stars.
He smiled. "Beautiful," he murmured, voice barely louder than the wind. "The Force doesn't reject magic. It translates it."
The first principle of his research was forming, that the Force was not an opposing system, but a language. And magic, the words that gave it structure.
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POV: R6-A7 (the droid)
From a distance, the small astromech unit watched its master perform his strange rituals. Per Te had repaired R6-A7 months ago from a junk pile on Nar Shaddaa, salvaged it, as he did with everything broken or forgotten.
"Master," R6 beeped, its tone half-worried, half-admiring, "you've been at this for forty-nine hours without sleep."
Per Te chuckled and sat cross-legged on the ridge. "Sleep can wait. Discovery doesn't."
"Discovery is not a valid nutritional substitute," the droid replied dryly.
Per Te's laughter echoed softly in the canyon.
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POV: Per Te Vivebo
That night, as twin moons rose, he began a new trial.
He stood at the canyon's center, eyes closed, wand in hand, a smooth length of Uneti wood he had carved himself, its core woven with a crystal resonant with both kyber and phoenix feather essence.
He whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa."
A boulder lifted, trembling slightly. He released the Force into it, the vibration deepened, harmonizing. Then he wove both energies together.
The rock hovered, glowing faintly gold, until it shattered into dust.
Per Te coughed through the cloud, eyes watering. Then he grinned."Closer."
Each failure was a gift.Each mistake, a doorway.
For months he traveled from world to world, chasing the whisper of harmony, Alderaan's forests, Ilum's frozen plains, the deserts of Jedha. He learned from ancient scrolls, ruins, and whispers of the Force left behind by the extinct Je'daii. He recorded everything into a crystalline journal, calling it The Quantum Charter.
POV: Per Te Vivebo — Year 3 After Arrival
In the plains of Ossus, where the air shimmered with old Jedi echoes, Per Te built his first refuge.
It was not Hogwarts yet, only a small monastery of stone and crystal, grown through a mix of Force manipulation and transfiguration. A living structure that breathed with him.
Travelers began to find him. A wandering Mandalorian exile who sought purpose. A Twi'lek child with uncontrolled telekinesis. A defected Sith acolyte who refused to kill again.
They came, broken and curious.
He taught them not to worship the Force, nor to fear it, but to understand it. He told them, "You are not light or dark. You are will, the Force obeys understanding, not alignment."
He showed them how to speak to kyber crystals through the cadence of spells, how to blend Protego with a Force barrier, how Apparition could become instantaneous hyper-jumping through micro-folds of space.
They named him Master Per Te, and he laughed every time.
"Don't call me master," he'd say. "I'm only the first student."
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POV: Apprentice Elen Tarris
The first generation called themselves Force-Wizards.
To Elen Tarris, the Twi'lek prodigy, he was both mentor and mystery. She remembered the night he made her float above a lake using only thought and wind.
"How do you continue to smile when you fail, Master Per Te?" she asked once.
He looked up from his notes. "Because failure speaks," he said simply. "It tells you which path isn't the truth. Every wrong turn removes a lie from the universe."
Elen would later write those words into the opening page of her spellbook.
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POV: Per Te Vivebo, 10–25 Years After Arrival
The monastery grew. More came, pilots, monks, refugees, even a reprogrammed assassin droid that learned to paint stars on ceilings.
The city around it was born not from conquest, but from need, families of the rescued built homes around his sanctuary. Shops appeared, gardens bloomed. It was no longer a refuge. It was a home.
And as his community expanded, so did his dream. He began to design Hogwarts.
A citadel that would stand above the chaos of the galaxy not in arrogance, but in peace. He imagined floating spires intertwined with Uneti roots, runic pylons channeling the Force through wards and enchantments.
He whispered, "A place where no child will ever be unwanted again."
POV: Jedi Historian, Archive Fragment (Recorded Centuries Later)
"…There was a man before the Age of Republic, who built a city that breathed light. He walked neither path of the Force, but both. The Jedi called him the Wise Heretic. The Sith called him the Unmaker. His teachings vanished, but every time a Jedi wonders what lies beyond the Light and Dark, his shadow stirs."
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POV: Per Te Vivebo
One night, standing before the glowing blueprint of the first true Hogwarts tower, Per Te recorded his final thoughts before the next phase of creation.
"I used to think knowledge was power," he said to the crystal, his eyes soft. "But now I see, it's compassion. It's the courage to understand those the galaxy throws away."
He raised his hand, letting the Force swirl with his magic, and the stone walls began to rise from the ground, each rune pulsing in perfect rhythm with his heart.
The canyon trembled. The stars above shimmered, bending slightly as if reality itself leaned closer to listen.
Hogwarts was being born.