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:

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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."