Disclaimer: See chapter 1 (Spoiler, I own nothing in this story)

Friday, July 1st, Summer's Residence, 10:45pm, Holocron Dreamscape

"So how was your day, Xander," his mother asked. The first hour of their training sessions usually consisted of them talking about his day and answer questions that he had.

"Interesting, even by my standards. I got my test results back from Cleaves Medical. Evidently my time here on the hellmouth has caused me to have a case of magical ticks called rackilus spurturus. My core is feeding the parasites, making it weaker than it should be. I'll have to find a place that has a bunch of positive magical energy and stay there for a while if I want to get rid of them, and unfortunately there isn't a place good enough for a case as advanced as mine in North America, and the doctors are still looking in places overseas. My magic won't improve much until that happens" The two were sitting in the lotus position, levitating several large stones around them. Even in this dreamworld, it took the same amount of effort to use the force for physical tasks. Satele could feel the despair boiling over in her son's soul, and determined to cleanse it.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Reach out and contemplate what this could bring. The Force places us where it needs us, especially here since you are likely the only one training to be a Jedi on the planet. Focus, and control your emotions. Reach out to the Force and let it calm you." They usually would not start training for another hour to give them time to talk, but she needed to nip this in the bud.

"Just because I am training to be a Jedi doesn't mean that the Force can jerk me around wherever it wants to," Xander complained, his anger overcoming his depression. He had been feeling down since he learned that if he ever wanted to practice wanded magic, he would have to leave his home for a while. The doctors were concerned about the levels of magical parasitic infestation he was experiencing, such levels hadn't been seen in a witch or wizard in several decades.

Luckily, Doctor/Patient confidentiality prevented this news from spreading to the general magical population. Evidently, the appearance of a new, unknown Black, on US soil no less, was causing a stir amongst the various tabloids both in the States and the Wizarding communities abroad. For certain witches and wizards, the Black family was considered something akin to British royalty, along with a few dozen other families in England. He had been success in preventing the public from learning his identity by using the Harris name for his medical exams and other activities including his tutoring. According to the goblins, there have been dozens attempts to dig up information on him, which they thwarted for a nominal fee. So far, only the goblins knew he was The Black.

"If you hear someone scream from an alleyway, do you keep on walking?" The rebuking answer cut through Xander's morose attitude.

"No, but…"

"If you see someone being attacked by vampires, do you whistle and stroll on by?" And question was even harsher than before.

"Of course not."

"Then when the life force that embraces and encompasses every living creature does everything in its power to ask for your help, why would you turn your back on the rest of humanity? Are you too good for them? Are you so callous as to ignore their suffering?" The accusation struck Xander, who reeled from his mother's words.

"I hate being told what to do. I want to chart my own course, and to hell with anyone who tells me what I should do," Xander shouted. He had stood up at some point in his answer, and was towering over his mother, who did not seem to mind his hostile posture.

"I think you need to have a lesson with Revan." Of all her possible responses, this wasn't even in the top 100. The non sequitur had Xander scratching his head?

"Huh," he elaborated on his confusion. Ever since his first time in the holocron, that night with Faith, he had wondered about his other ancestor, but hadn't seen or heard him. Faith had tried to access the holocron a couple of times to have another meeting with him, but without success. Evidently it was a one-time deal for her, and Xander hadn't had any lessons with him at all.

"Your ancestor has an . . . unusual history and story, one which he will tell you in full when you are ready. He has been pulled in numerous directions, and he can help you understand your path within the Force better than I. I will leave you to him, but I will see you tomorrow night. Goodnight, my son." With that farewell, Satele Shan, mother of Alexander Lavelle Black, kissed her son and walked into the surrounding darkness and disappeared.

In an instant, the darkness was replaced with bright, blinding light. Squinting, Xander saw a figure approach him, which he recognized as Revan in his battle armor. He held two lightsabers, weapons of choice for the Force wielders of his matriarchal heritage. Revan tossed him one, which he caught deftly in his right hand. The weight of the silver cylinder felt right in his hand, and he instinctively thumbed the activation nob. A few practice swings let him know that this was one of the training sabers Satele had been using to teach him. Not deadly like a true lightsaber, but painful when hit. They had been practicing for only two weeks, but he felt he was getting a good handle on how to fight with it. He took up the guard position facing Revan, expecting a sparring session from the armored man.

He was partially correct.

The first hit came from behind. Xander sensed it a fraction of an instant too late. He received a glancing blow across his shoulder as Xander rolled to avoid a direct hit. The contact point burned in pain, something that he had come to expect of a lightsaber hit in the hologram. Injuries occurred and were simulated in the holocron, but the wounds never transferred outside the holocron. It was rammed into his head, though, that he should treat this as real life. Since the hits still hurt, it was a lesson easily learned.

Coming out of the roll, Xander saw three vampires launching themselves at him that weren't there a moment ago. The closest one was holding the standard lightsaber in a two handed grip. In the moment it took to glance at the other two, he saw one with a double bladed lightsaber, and the other wielding two sabers. They continued their attack without pause.

The first three swings by the lead vampire, Xander was able to block easily, but was unable to get an attack in himself. When the rest of the bloodsuckers caught up, things became much more difficult. Finding himself surrounded, Xander Force Jumped up and away, only to find them attacking him again before he could find solid footing. He was able to get one good hit on one of them, enough to knock them back, but the other two took his place. Four blades versus one were not good odds. Bobbing and weaving, blocking with his saber, he was only tagged a couple of times, but each one stung a little bit more than before. Xander took advantage of the dual wielding vampire's over-extension to land a blow on his hand, knocking the extra weapon out of his grip. With another roll, Xander scooped up the blade in his left hand and activated it.

He had never wielded two weapons at once, neither lightsabers nor any bladed weapon while patrolling, but he needed an advantage if he was going to get through this test. In the two seconds it took his opponents to regroup, Xander was able to center himself and begin some of the battle meditation his mother taught him. He was worried about the two blades tangling up with the other, but he felt the comforting singing of the Force guiding his moves, and he listened. Xander had to concentrate to keep that feeling present when the vampires attacked again.

More in tune with the Force, the four began the dance of battle. Before, it was a cacophony flurry of blows and dodges. Now, it was a symphony of steps, blocks, twists, parries, ripostes, and strikes. First, the vampire who lost his lightsaber to Xander fell under a combination of blows from his own weapon, leaving a tall hulking male with a two sided lightsaber staff and the average sized female wielding her single saber with both hands, for greater strength in her blows. Seeing their comrade laying on the ground unmoving, they redoubled their efforts. The humming sound of the blades was deafening. For every three hits Xander landed, one would connect with him. He was fighting from within a Force trance, but the pain that came through was real and it hurt. A quick block and shove moved the vampress away enough for Xander to concentrate on the larger opponent for a few seconds, plenty of time to beat him to the ground.

The remaining vampire took her time approaching Xander, now that her companions were down. They circled each other, waiting for the other to move. It was the vampire whose patience ran out first. She lunged forward, testing Xander's reflexes before committing to a full strike. He blocked it with ease and counterattacked with his off hand, forcing her to duck. She continued to motion into a roll forward, forcing Xander to jump to the side or have his gonads severed with her precision strike. Smiling, the vampire stuck the fingers of her left hand into her mouth, and whistled loudly, than resumed stalking towards her prey. Xander wasn't sure why she whistled, but it could mean nothing good for him.

It wasn't.

A fist connected with the Xander's head, sending him sprawling on the ground. He was able to recover with a roll and flip to his feet (something that would have been impossible three months ago). This allowed him to take in the sight of a dozen other vampires crawling out of the impossibly white surroundings as if they were freshly crawling out of their graves. When he had his footing, the female thrust with her practice lightsaber, then thrust again. It took one more thrust to realize she wasn't trying to attack him as much as to herd him towards the growing number of other vampires, which thankfully did not possess their own sci-fi weapons, just old-fashioned fists, claws, and fangs.

One giant leap backwards put Xander in the midst of the vampires, a move that they were not expecting. Before they were able to recover from their shock, four were taken out of commission and on the ground. Xander had already leapt beyond them. This bought him a moment reprieve as the lightsaber wielding vampire woman had to muscle her way through the throng of non-lightsaber wielding vampires. More vampires appeared, crawling out of the nothingness.

Many, many more.

In those moments before they attacked, Xander threw both of his lightsabers at different vampires. Once they connected, knocking two more out of the fight, Xander used the Force to return them to his hands. The fight was continued. While the vampires were easier to knock down than the lightsaber wielding ones from before, their sheer mass was starting to press in on him.

A punch to his lower back.

His mobility was limited with every passing moment.

A kick to his right knee.

The Force helped him keep his balance while he Force Pushed several into the furthest reaches of the white void, only to be replaced by even more vampires in the gaps he had made.

Fingers clawing at his stomach.

Swinging wildly, less to attack and more to buy space and time, Xander prepared to leap away, hoping to get out of the hostile horde. A bite on his hand. The leap wasn't without casualty, Xander had been forced dropped the spare lightsaber or risk having his hand bitten off. A Force Pulse when he landed after leaping gave him a few yards of clear space in every direction, which was soon filled with more vampires, an unending undead flow.

It took several leaps and pulses to come to the conclusion that there was no end to this horde. Whatever Revan had conjured in this holocron dream, it was unwinnable. There were too many to defeat, and those he did were replaced with more vampires. He was already tiring from the lengthy fight, and knew he would not be able to continue longer. The vampires were already getting wise to his leaping strategy, anticipating his landings and jumping to attack him before he landed. His wasn't the greatest strategy for winning, but it did keep him alive and fighting.

Xander faltered at the peak of his jump, feeling the Force tighten against his feet before accelerating towards the ground. As he impacted, possibly ripping some tendons in the process, he was surprised to see all the vampires had vanished. Well, all but the first female with the lightsaber, she was still there. And beside her was Revan, and Xander knew the fight wasn't over. The vampire and the armor clad Jedi sprang forward as one, intent on beating Xander until he was unable to move.

They succeeded after 5 minutes.

Xander laid on the ground, unable to move more than an inch at a time, and not even wanting to do that because of the pain. What seemed like hours of fighting had completely worn Xander out. Revan stood above him, lightsaber still ignited. The female vampire faded from from existence as his great-great-grandfather squatted down next to him.

"You feel like the Force is pushing you to do something that it is trying to control your life. We had this little exercise for two reasons. First, you needed to be in an unwinnable combat. Second, you needed to make decisions. The fight against the darkness is unending, but that doesn't mean it is unwinnable. Every vampire you slew was a victory to those who would not become its next meal. Everything you do is your choice.

"You chose your strategy, you chose to wield two lightsabers, you chose to attack the larger vampire before the smaller. You chose to ignore the enemy with superior weaponry over the enemy with superior numbers. All of those were your choices. The Force simply helped you see the options and supported your choices. Choices in the past are in the past. Choices in the future are changeable. Choices we make today determine who we are. What we are made of. Does the Force wish you to tread a particular path? Absolutely. Will it do everything in it's power to get you on that path? Of course, especially if it means easing the suffering of thousands. But the choice is always yours.

"As crude as this analogy will sound, it none the less drives home the point. Think of your life as a restaurant. The Force is the customer giving you its order. You are the cook. You can choose to follow the order or not. You will have consequences either way, but if you make the order as requested, you and the wait staff will get a larger tip and everyone will be happy. You must find a balance between what is asked of you, and what you are willing of provide. Without that balance, you are lost."

Revan stood up. Xander could feel some of the control returning to his limbs, but not enough to do anything besides twitch.

"Think hard, my heir. You have a duty equal to your friend Faith. She is the Slayer and charged with protecting the world from the demons who seek to destroy it, but you will be a Jedi, charged with protecting the world from it's own inhabitants who seek to destroy each other. Some would say you have the more difficult job of the two. If you do not find a balance between all the forces that pull you and will pull you in all directions, you will be torn asunder. I will leave you now to meditate."

Methodically, Revan turned and walked out of sight. The dream landscape changed from the bright white to a dull green, which morphed to a grassy hill where Xander was laying. It was another hour before Xander could sit up, and another three before he could move easily again. During the entire time, he took Revan's advice to heart, and meditated on what his path should be and how he should proceed. He asked the Force to show him the path he should take, and guide him towards his balancing point.

As painful as the method was, and as much as he hated Revan for the beating he gave him, he was grateful for the lesson. At the end of his meditation, he was now committed in his path and now had the motivation he needed to do what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Not because of fate or destiny or birthright, but because he chose to do it.

It was his choice.

That choice didn't stop him from cursing when it started to rain on him during the third hour he was laying there. Sometimes, Revan could be a real jerk.

Wednesday, May 31st, #12 Grimmauld Place, 8:26 AM

Kreacher was a bad elf. His true master gave him a responsibility, a task that he must succeed at, and he has failed in all his efforts. But maybe his true master is sending him help from the great beyond.

Kreacher received the letter from the goblins and knew what it said, as he knew everything written and spoken within his assigned domain. Bad master was silly to think there were any secrets in his home that Kreacher didn't know. How else could he anticipate his master's needs? His true master's son is coming back, and he will make things right.

Kreacher was worried that bad master would try to stop the new true master from restoring honor to Kreacher once again. It was hard to live with his shame for so many years.

Bad master was screeching Kreacher's name again. He mustn't be allowed to interfere with new true master, but Kreacher couldn't destroy the Gringotts letter, the goblins would destroy his soul if he did. But, Kreacher could put it somewhere bad master would never find it, that way the bad master would never know. Once the new true master claimed this home, Kreacher would be free from bad master forever. Now, where to 'deliver' the letter? It would have to be a place the bad master never went, somewhere he would walk past without looking.

Kreacher knew the perfect spot. Muttering under his breath, just as his true master taught him to hide his actual thoughts and intentions, Kreacher made his way to the desk of the true master's father. It was a extremely well made magical writing desk positioned on the far side of largest bedroom. Before the bad master left so many years ago, it was used to read and respond to important letters, so he was safe to deliver it to the desk. It's not Kreacher's fault bad master never checks the mail desk for mail. He is just a simple house elf, after all, his mind addled from too many years of service.

The letter delivered and his mission accomplished, Kreacher returned to his sleeping area. It was small and cramped, but it was his and he loved it. He had spent the last decade preparing this home for the return of the true master's wife and son. It would be good to see little Alexander again, but hopefully he did not have to change his diapers any more. Even house elves had limits on what they could endure.

Kreacher reviewed the House Elf Archives, a small dirty book the size of a matchbook that only house elves could read, write in, or even see. In it contained the written memories and records of every Black house elf, including his own, and every Black house elf had their own copy that magically refreshed when a new entry was added. Once there were hundreds of Black elves taking care of properties around the globe, but recently it dwindled to only a few dozen, each stuck in their last location of service.

Like him, the Black elves were trapped to a single property, until the new Head of the House could claim them by claiming the lands they were bound to. He sent a message to all of them informing them that the time has come, the Head has taken his place, and they soon would be freed from a single plot of land. Even without checking the Archives, he knew that the various lands had been taken care of, Black elves weren't lazy, even in a decade long absence. The hope he gave them would spur them into a cleaning frenzy. Everything must be perfect for the new Head when he visits, and ushers in the return of the Black Elf Regime. And the bad master will be completely unprepared to oppose it.