I've
finally figured out how I'm going to end this so I will be updating quite
frequently. Sorry if you're waiting for changes or Redemption, but I really
want to get this finished so it will be the main one for a while.
Keep reviewing. Like with Redemption; if you review you get to see your name on
the chapter!
Chapter 22 reviewers:
Foxyloxy (twice)
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Thanks to all of you
Chapter 23 – Meditation
"Hey guys," Dawn said wearily, coming into the Gryffindor Common Room after her morning class. She plopped down on a sofa next to Harry and he put his arm around her.
"Rough class?" he asked and she nodded. He grinned and pecked her on the forehead.
"Sorry but I've got to go," he said
apologetically, getting up.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked,
tearing herself away from Ron.
"Magic training with Willow," Harry explained. "I've got a free
so she said we could start now." He left the common room and travelled across
the school to the Slayers Academy. Willow had commandeered a free training
room for them to use.
Harry entered training room 3 and found Willow sitting cross-legged on the
training-mat covered floor, with her eyes closed and apparently meditating. Not
wanting to disturb here, harry took off his shoes at the edge of the mats and
walked carefully over to her.
"Hi Harry," Willow said, eyes still closed, as he came
over, silently he had thought. "Sit down and we'll get started. He sat, also
cross-legged opposite her and she opened her eyes.
"Sorry, it's just so rare that I have
time to do that," she explained. "Anyway, you all set? Good."
"It's no
big secret about what happened to me," Willow began. "I was a Wicca, minor stuff,
got addicted and then went all bad after Tara died. I couldn't control my power, it
controlled me and I lost it. Dumbledore wants me to help you not to lose
yourself in the same way."
"But I thought it wasn't the same magic,"
Harry said uncertainly. Willow smiled.
"It isn't," Willow said. "Mine is Wiccan and yours is
unknown, perhaps a gift from the Powers-that-be, who knows? You have a huge
amount of power, much more than I do. But magic, in its truest form, is all the
same. I don't have a doubt that you can control it, you were born with it."
"But it was just given to me," Harry argued. "I have no idea what I'm doing really."
"It's always been there," said Willow. "Always. From the moment I met you I felt it. Wicca's can see auras, can sense them. And yours is the brightest I've ever seen. You've just found your centre that's all." Harry was silent for a moment.
"These lessons aren't about magic," Willow said gently. "The power is intended for you, it's shaped to you and I can't teach you a thing, no one can. But you have a job to do Harry, your life was intended for a purpose. Just like Buffy, death is your gift."
"Not by choice," Harry said, pained.
"It never is," Willow said shaking her head. "And it's
great that you don't want to kill, that's a sign that you're ready. But it's a
huge weight for you to deal with, and I should know. You kill someone and the
world changes around you, I've seen that change, and I felt it. I regret what I
did everyday, that will never go away, but it will get better."
"Do you ever wish that you weren't you,"
Harry said suddenly. "That you were just someone watching?"
"Sometimes," Willow said thoughtfully. "I was sixteen
when Buffy came to town and that changed my life forever. It's been hard,
there's no questioning that, but I wouldn't change it for the world. But I'm
not Buffy, I'm not the one like she is and you are. Maybe that's why I don't
feel it."
"I watch people that pass me in the
halls of Hogwarts and I wonder what it would be like to be them," Harry said,
staring off into nothingness. "To be just any old wizard and not the one that
has the burden of everyone on them."
"But that's who you are," Willow said gravely. "Something somewhere
picked you for that purpose because they saw something in you, a something
which no one else possessed. You were chosen Harry, chosen to be a saviour. Can
you accept that?"
"I guess I have to," Harry said with a
sigh, then, "Yes. I think I am."
"Good," Willow said with a grin. "Because you had
me worried there for a moment."
Harry smiled back at her.
"Anyway, killing someone, that's what we are supposed to be focusing on," Willow said brightly, then frowned. "That was very happily said. Scratch that from the record, pretend I said it gravely, k? Right, so what are your thoughts on that?"
"Erm," Harry said, disconcerted by her babble. "Well, obviously I'm not too thrilled about doing it." Willow nodded seriously. "Killing someone, it's not something I'd do by choice but if I have to then I'm willing, not happy, but willing."
"Good," Willow said. "Death causes people to
judge. When Warren killed Tara
trying to kill Buffy and I killed Warren, we were acting as judges, as if we
had that power. Choosing who lives and who dies. No one has the right to say
that, just as no one can prevent someone from dying."
"But isn't that what we are saying with
Voldemort?" Harry said in confusion. "That he deserves to die and I have to do
that?"
"But you were chosen, Harry," Willow said earnestly. "It's different.
The powers-that-Be selected you. They chose Voldemort for life or for death at
your hand. It was not your decision but it is your duty. All that said, if it's
you or them, then make sure it's you. Nothing is more important than you own
life if it's the choice between yours and a death eater."
Harry nodded, he understood more now. The things Willow had said had clarified things for
him. He felt like he had a hold on his power he hadn't had before; a knowledge
that would keep him on the path that Willow had strayed from.
"Okay, meditation," Willow said. "Doubt you've done much of
this but I find it useful to focus myself, empty out my thoughts and feel the
power I have inside me. Close your eyes and push every thought away. Completely
empty your mind and pick an object, something simple." Harry chose his
Firebolt.
"Now examine that object in detail," Willow said. "Look it over, feel it, touch
it with your mind. Don't let anything else interfere. Then, gradually let go of
that, release that object and feel for your power. Just as you touched, felt
and examined the object, do the same with your power."
Harry examined his Firebolt, looking at
the grain of the wood, feeling the shiny polished wood and then when he was
completely absorbed in it, he let it go and felt for his power, just as Willow had said. He imagined it as a ball
of light and that was how it appeared in his head, a green glowing ball of
light, which he could hold. It was elastic and he could feel the contours
though if asked, he would never be able to describe how it felt.
It was only Willow tapping him on the shoulder that woke him from his daze. It was then he realised he had been lost in his meditation that he was half an hour late for Defence against the Dark Arts.
"Wow I've never seen anyone that deep into meditation on their first time," Willow said with a look of awe on her face. Harry called his thanks as he rushed out of the room.
The next morning the post owls arrived when harry was just tucking into a sausage. His parents weren't at Hogwarts, their new house was finally ready for them to move into and they were spending the day there, to deal with all the new furniture that was being delivered.
A brown owl flew in and dropped the Daily Prophet in front of Harry, something he'd been receiving recently in order to keep up with any developments. He glanced at the front page, still eating. Then he stopped and looked back at the front pager. He grabbed it urgently and smoothed it flat in front of him.
"Oh God," Harry murmured.
"What is it
mate?" Ron said unconcernedly, pouring ketchup onto his plate.
"It's Fudge," Harry said, skimming the
article. "He was killed last night." Silence fell among the people sitting
around Harry.
"It says that he was just leaving the
Ministry when he was killed by a mystery assassin," Harry quoted, squinting at
the article. "The Ministry is in disarray." He looked up and met eyes that
looked just as scared as he felt. Voldemort having Fudge killed, it seemed like
something out of another world. Glancing up at the staff table, there were very
few teachers present. Professor McGonagall was seated there, also reading the
Daily Prophet, as were Sirius and Buffy who were talking quietly. Harry got up
and jogged over to them
"What's the word on Fudge?" he asked
quickly, and Ron, Hermione and Dawn appeared behind him.
"Nobody knows much," Sirius said quietly, so that the other students wouldn't hear. "The guard in the Atrium was stunned and Fudge was killed on the way out of his office late at night. Looks like it wasn't Voldemort himself, probably one of his minions. Whoever it was, they got away."
"What's happening at the ministry?" Hermione
asked, looking nervous.
"Well, Dumbledore's gone down there,
damage limitation or something, though they're all going mad" Sirius said
gravely. "They'll probably ask him to take over but he won't do it, not even
now. Before he left he said he's going to put Arthur Weasley forward for the
job."
"Dad?" Ron said faintly.
"Of course," Sirius answered briskly. "He'd
make a fantastic Minister, just the kind we've been hoping for." Ron looked
slightly pale and Hermione rubbed his back.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat
loudly, along the table from Sirius and Buffy. Taking the hint, Ron, Hermione,
Dawn and Harry trailed back to the Gryffindor house table. Round them, noise
buzzed as the news spread.
"Well that's' it," Harry said, jaw
clenched. "The Ministry is going to actually take some action."
"Maybe if Mr. Weasley gets in then we've
got some hope," Dawn said.
"Yeah," Ron said distractedly. "Son of
the Minister for Magic. Oh dear." He was
still very pale.
"Dumbledore will sort it," Hermione said confidently.
"It's closer though, isn't it?" Harry
said. "It will end soon, one way or another."
