The Lady Bastila
Days passed before Edelweiss could claim enough time to properly commune with Lady Bastila's holocron. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon sought to keep her busy within the house as a nasty heat wave swept across the country. They didn't blink at using excess water for their lawn, regardless of what the telly said. They took pride in their lawn and their roses, regardless of how Edelweiss and her magic—not that she had known—kept them in their fine, almost pristine condition. It had taken her secretly calling the police, pretending to be one of their neighbors, that ended both their lawn tyranny and bought the time she wanted.
Edelweiss didn't need to lock herself in. Uncle Vernon, in his blustering fury, used all five locks attached to her door once he found out. It was only when he left for work the next morning that she liberated her trunk from the boot cupboard, granting access to the holocron taken from Lord Salazar's collection. Her cousin Dudley was off with his friends, likely terrorizing the children of the neighborhood. She wouldn't trouble him as long as he didn't trouble her.
The Ton-Tongue Toffee Fred and George had slipped him was enough to redirect his violence.
The holocron glowed a glorious crimson as it rested in her hands, a fine square against her soft palms. The anger that simmered under her skin crackled to life, and she channeled the power it granted her into the pyramid construct. It rose several inches from her hand, the five corners twisting. Lady Bastila's red-hued face was projected from the holocron.
"Apprentice," she drawled.
"Lady Bastila," replied Edelweiss, not yet comfortable calling the woman master. It had slipped out the first time they spoke. "I am ready for my first lesson."
"Good. I shall teach you about the nature of the Force and the doctrine of the Sith. Upon this foundation shall all future lessons be built."
Edelweiss nodded, kneeling before the hovering holocron. She had given some of her mental facilities over to attempting to parse out what the Force was in the days since learning of its existence, yet that effort had all been for naught; to have it laid out properly would greatly accelerate her education.
Lady Bastila began: "The Force is an energy field that binds all things together. It is everywhere, surrounding everyone and everything. All living things possess midi-chlorians, microscopic life forms. They create the connection between each living being and the Force. Through them, we can access the Force. Through them, the first aspect of the Force is produced: the Living Force.
"All beings, regardless of their sensitivity to the Force, possess a weak energy field around them. That field is a manifestation of the Living Force. Those sensitive to the Force can manipulate the fields of both ourselves and of others, along with the broader fabric of the Force; either in tandem with the midi-chlorians within or by working against them."
"Why would one go against these midi-chlorians?" Edelweiss asked, frowning.
"Because they link the Living Force to the Cosmic Force. When one dies, their power in the form of the Living Force joins the Cosmic Force, granting it more power to influence the living. They work through the midi-chlorians, and form the basis of the will of the Force.
"Be cautious, young apprentice, for the Cosmic Force can twist the will of any Force-sensitive, and deprive them of their liberty and right mind."
"What becomes of those who lose themselves to the Cosmic Force?" The thought of becoming a slave, as implied by Lady Bastila's words, made Edelweiss queasy. She had spent too many years in a state akin to slavery. She would never be a slave.
"Darth Traya, who taught my master, hated the Force, for it twists the wills of those sensitive to it, so that it might achieve what our enemies, the Jedi, call balance. It was Revan, though, who realized that the enforcement of its will emerges from the Cosmic aspect of the Force. It influences the Living Force, and thus forces those tuned to the will of the Force to enact it."
"And so this dark side you and Lord Salazar speak of protects us from its will?"
"Yes," Lady Bastila purred. "The dark side is what frees Force sensitives from the will of the Force. Your passions will protect you from being its slave. It allows us to master the Force, to learn the secret truths of the universe. Our code emphasizes this fact with the words, 'The Force shall free me.'"
"Can you teach me this code, master?" Edelweiss asked; they would reach it, she knew, but she was antsy for exposure to this particular foundation. "I learned the first line through the Force when I gained access to Lord Salazar's hangar and the holocron room. The rest, however, did not reveal itself."
Lady Bastila only briefly considered her request. "I shall teach you the words and the meaning behind them in tandem. Listen closely, apprentice, for this is the foundation of what it means to be a Sith. They are ancient, more ancient than most civilizations that continue to persist. The Code is as follows:
"Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
"Through passion, I gain strength.
"Through strength, I gain power.
"Through power, I gain victory.
"Through victory, my chains are broken.
"The Force shall free me."
Edelweiss frowned, seeking to channel Hermione's inquisitiveness and cold logic as she considered what she had been told. "That first line… When you say peace, what do you speak of? The absence of war? Or something else, perhaps more personal?"
"A fine question, for one who was never a Jedi. Understand that the Sith emerged from the Jedi, and so there is an inevitable desire to respond to the decayed, rotting root of their philosophy: There is no emotion, there is peace. They view peace as the absence of conflict, and achieve this by detaching themselves from the lives of those around them. No personal attachments, no desire; they are not even allowed to love and have children without intense scrutiny."
"A pitiful existence," Edelweiss muttered. She remembered her first year at Hogwarts, and the image she had seen in the Mirror of Erised. She had seen love. Belonging. Family. Things stolen from her. "What's the point of life without attachments?"
"What indeed," drawled Lady Bastila with a thin, raised eyebrow. "But our focus with the first line of our code relates to the opposite of the Jedi's code. Where they reject conflict, we embrace it. With conflict, one grows—or one dies."
Edelweiss nodded, nearly losing herself in memories of her first four years at Hogwarts. "I understand. I've faced conflict several times in the past, and I grew stronger as a result."
No incident stood out more in her mind than that of the Chamber of Secrets. Her poisoning by the basilisk and healing by Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, had granted her a near immunity to poison. It did not seem like something worth telling Lady Bastila, though perhaps there would be other holocrons interested in her past struggles.
"The second line speaks to both our strength over the Jedi and what allows us to transcend the basic lives of animals," continued Lady Bastila. "Any beast can move through life by relying upon their passions. But mastering your passions and forging them into a weapon allows one to seek and pursue desires that only a sentient mind can comprehend. You must rise above the wretched masses, or else you risk your destruction."
"I'm beginning to understand," Edelweiss said, resting her chin upon a hand. "Our passion leads to conflict. Only through strength of will do we survive, growing stronger. That strength becomes the power necessary to become victorious over our enemies. It builds upon itself; power and victory, feeding each other."
Lady Bastila laughed, the same tinkling sound she had heard in Salazar's solar. "You are a swift learner, apprentice. But you must remember: victory must be achieved by displaying your true power. Else, it is an illusion."
"I understand, master." Edelweiss then blinked, but did not take back the title which slipped through her lips.
"Best that you do. And what do you make of the final two lines?"
"I guess it would depend on how one defines their chains. Whatever binds each Sith must be overcome through their own power." Her unrealized self, the traces of herself Edelweiss tried to avoid and ignore, whispered things she had already known. She listened, and agreed with all it told her. "For me, there are four chains that bind me down, four chains I must break."
Lady Bastila's curious expression was the only prompt she needed.
"First are the Dursleys, those I am forced to live with. They used me as a slave until I learned of my magic. They must be permanently placed beneath me, as I was put beneath them. After them would be the public. Their opinions are mercurial, changing not because of what I do or say, but because of how my image is manipulated by others. I must seize control of how I am viewed, so that only the way I desire to be seen becomes reality.
"Then there is Voldemort, the self-stylized Dark Lord, who killed my parents and continues to hunt me. I must destroy him, erase every fear any had of his assumed name. It should be known in all corners of the world that I am his vanquisher, greater than he ever was."
"And the fourth?"
"Dumbledore," Edelweiss snarled with black fury. "It all comes back to Dumbledore. He has pulled my strings for long enough. I must ruin him, as he ruined me."
Her rage poured forth in a violent swirl, plunging through every ounce of her being. Her hands tightened, knuckles blooming white as her emotions—her passions—coursed through her with violent dedication. Power came to her, intoxicating in its potential.
"And once you have destroyed them, my apprentice?" whispered Lady Bastila.
"I will…I…"
Edelweiss sighed, and her building rage slumped away. Sweat broke out along her hairline and brow, and under where her glasses touched her face. "I do not know yet. I have been so worried about little things that I have been unable to consider my future. With Voldemort returned, I know I must fight a war."
"Then you shall prepare to face these threats, and destroy all who dare oppose you," declared Lady Bastila, each word sharp and precise. Edelweiss met her master's severe expression, glowing eyes connecting. "The Sith Code has confirmed everything you know of growing stronger. Trust in my teachings, and you shall become a powerful Sith Lord. You shall be powerful enough to break your four chains, to free yourself with the dark side of the Force."
"Of course," she replied, bowing her head. "I submit myself to your teachings, my master."
"Good," whispered Lady Bastila. "You must keep my lessons secret. From what I suspect from all you have told me, few close to you appreciate our methods. The greatest of all Sith has long been called the Dark Lord, a history already ancient when I lived and breathed. A time will come when you shall take on that mantle, my apprentice. You shall be the Dark Lord of the Sith, with an apprentice of your own."
Edelweiss nodded warily. It felt like poison in her mouth, knowing she would one day be spoken of in the same manner as Voldemort. Yet from what she had learned from Lord Salazar, her master had lived some four thousand years ago. She couldn't fathom what Earth had been like in that age.
The title of Dark Lord meant something different to the Sith, and so perhaps she would come to honor the title in time.
"None shall know of my training until the time to reveal myself comes," she declared, her mind already decided. When, she could not say. Through the Force, perhaps, she would divine it. "Perhaps once I am ready to be named a Sith Lord."
Her master nodded. "When that time comes, you shall be a Sith in truth. You shall abandon your old name and be reborn as Darth…Gladiolus."
Edelweiss blinked and after a moment, smiled. She had long known that her mother's family had a tradition of naming daughters after flowers. Aunt Petunia had hated her for it. Hers was a rare name, especially in Britain. The name her master, Lady Bastila, prescribed matched the pattern—and was graced with meaning. Her own name meant courage and devotion, vital traits in a time of war. But her new name, the Sith name she would one day take up, represented Sith qualities. Strength. Victory.
It was the flower of the gladiator, a warrior's flower, that of survivors and killers. Perhaps not the most intimidating, but let them underestimate her; they would be all the more easily destroyed.
"You honor me, my master. I shall live up to the name that shall christen my ascension."
Lady Bastila nodded, a proud smile adorning her face. "Now then, apprentice. We must accustom you to feeling the Force so intimately that it will respond with a simple thought. Have you been taught any meditative techniques?"
Edelweiss swallowed a groan as she shrugged. She had taught herself, and she doubted that counted in her master's eyes.
July moved on, broiling day after broiling day. The skies of England remained cloudless as the sun rose early, beat down harshly, and settled late enough that without the blasting of air conditioning, temperatures wouldn't reach a mild seventy inside Number Four until well after midnight. Edelweiss spent her days, when not under the heel of the Dursleys, meditating, building and developing her connection with the Force.
Her master insisted she spend as many hours each day as she could, concentrating her anger and rage into a metaphysical needlepoint. She had been told the exercises would make drawing upon the dark side as natural as touching the magic she worked with at Hogwarts. Lady Bastila hadn't even blinked when Edelweiss spoke of her studies as a witch. That Lord Salazar had played a role in the construction of the institution may have played a role, though Edelweiss came to suspect there were witches on other worlds. Whether or not they could perform the feats of the witches of hers was a question left unasked and unanswered between them.
Letters from her friends diminished to little more than half-hearted words of support. Hermione had let slip she was staying with the Weasleys, and incidentally implied they were not at the Burrow. Edelweiss felt her anger awaken; that particular letter burned into cinders and ash. Ron wrote little of note, though his letters were so much shorter than Hermione's she was never surprised he didn't say anything beyond little blurbs related to the muggles. She had sneered at his usage of 'your muggles', though it hadn't set off her fury like other letters.
In a way, though, they were hers. They were hers to handle as she pleased, to service when she was weak and rule when she was strong. Edelweiss had a feeling something churned across the country, something that would alter the course of fate.
A chance for vengeance, for justice, to see old wrongs brought to right, she thought, two days before her birthday.
Edelweiss woke early on the last day of July, suddenly fifteen. She had fallen asleep early the night before, having avoided the attention of the Dursleys the prior day. While it had been her tradition to stay awake until midnight, to see the moment her birthday arrived, she had decided for once to ignore it. What did it actually matter, when she doubted the arrival of letters and packages?
Her thoughts went first to Lady Bastila's holocron, but something caught her eye. She froze; Edelweiss of the day before had been proven wrong. Outside her window were four owls, all carrying packages. She huffed, scrambled from her bed, and opened her window. The birds waited for her to step back before flying in, dropping their gifts upon her lumpy bed. Two immediately departed, while two remained.
To her dismay, neither was her snow-white owl Hedwig. One was Ron's excitable owl, Pig. The other, she'd hazard, was the Weasley's family owl, the wretched, ancient Errol. She sighed, knowing well enough that they expected there to be a perch for them to rest upon and treats to gorge upon. Both had been left behind, for Edelweiss had told Hedwig not to darken the skies of Surrey this summer.
Her dear girl had been displeased, but understandable. Perhaps Edelweiss would reward Hedwig and dismantle the carrying cage she owned.
She turned her attention to the gifts once the owls stopped beginning for scraps. They'd be able to find something on their return to wherever the Weasleys were holed up. Perhaps once Dumbledore thought she was sufficiently cowed by the Dursleys or whatever reason justified her remaining for long, he'd relent and allow her to depart Privet Drive.
Once he had told her the blood wards would last as long as she considered Number Four to be home; it had never been, especially after Hogwarts.
The first one she opened was from Hagrid. He had sent her several rock cakes, packed tightly enough together that a few of them had chipped off pieces small enough to suck on and hopefully weaken enough that Edelweiss would be able to chew and swallow. They were quite old looking, as if baked weeks ago instead of being fresh.
She moved on to a package from Sirius and Remus. She was surprised they had been able to send something together, let alone that her godfather lingered in England. Edelweiss suspected he was foolishly caught up in whatever Dumbledore was up to, instead of doing the wise thing and giving her a place to sneak away to upon the Continent should the worst ever come to pass. It wouldn't, but even now she preferred a godfather more concerned about keeping her safe than throwing away his life.
They had sent her a pair of books. One was filled with, she quickly realized, the exploits of the Marauders, her father's friends from Hogwarts. The other was blank, left to her for her own purposes.
There were two separate packages from the Weasleys. She opened the smaller one first, which turned out to be a shared gift from Ron and Hermione. Their letters were longer than normal, though still lacking any depth about their summer hols. She glowered, setting them aside, and wondered who it was telling them to censor their letters. That was the only conclusion she could come to, especially with how oddly lacking Hermione's were.
Unsurprisingly, Hermione had gotten her a book. Edelweiss frowned at the unlabeled cover and spine; it appeared to be made of snakeskin, oddly enough. She had to flip it open to find the title, written in squiggling, slanted lines that blurred into readable English: The Ways of Parselmagic.
"How quaint," she said with a light smile.
She reread the letter she received from Hermione, finding little that pointed toward where she had found the book. Hermione did mention she thought it 'probably useless, but the seller told my parents any who could speak with serpents could read this book. They remembered what I mentioned about our second year and thought you might appreciate it.'
Probably not, Edelweiss thought with a smile, but it could be interesting.
Ron, it appeared, had gone through the trouble to order anything of interest from Zonko's. Edelweiss couldn't fathom why, for she had presented his brothers with money, all but stating they should dare make something more than the odd pranks and jokes they pulled around Hogwarts. It would have been nice if he packaged something from them, since Mrs. Weasley would overlook Ron's gift.
The final one was from the Weasleys at large, though she knew as she found mince pies within that it was mostly Mrs. Weasley's doing. Had the Twins or Ginny been involved, she'd likely have found something amusing to pass the time or a glut of chocolate.
After scarfing down her first pie, Edelweiss turned her attention to Lady Bastila's holocron, in hopes she could learn something new this day. Activating the device was second nature now. Touching and wielding the Force now reminded her of it felt wielding her holly wand after the first couple months at Hogwarts.
"You are in a good mood today, apprentice," said Lady Bastila, a moment after she appeared. "Is there something special about this date?"
"I am fifteen now," she said with a faint hint of pride. "Only two years until the law sees me as an adult."
The Sith Lord sniffed. "A silly thing to be excited about, apprentice. Though if your past is wrought with danger and death, then it is an achievement to survive this long."
Edelweiss nodded. "I should have died when I was only fifteen months, master. That I have seen that many years is a triumph. The so-called Dark Lord Voldemort has tried several times to kill me." She smiled, a hint feral. "I will see him dead in the end. The dark side is a power he knows not, master, and it will be his undoing."
"Be mindful your ambition does not make you arrogant, apprentice," warned Lady Bastila. "Certainty in your power will ensure victory over those who underestimate you, but if you believe yourself more powerful than you truly are, then it shall be your undoing."
"So even the Sith are not immune to pride."
"Worse. Many Sith have indulged in their pride, their arrogance, the swell of power from the dark side. In the end, their lack of foresight brought about their destruction. You would do well to heed those lessons, apprentice."
Edelweiss nodded, straining not to frown at the warning. A hint of doubt twisted in her gut, higher than comfortable but without any feeling of nausea. Lord Salazar and Lady Bastila were both certain she would completely embrace the dark side and become the Dark Lord of the Sith. Her master had even said she would one day take an apprentice of her own.
Was it truly her fate to become a Sith Lord, or had the lure of power to defeat Voldemort, to free herself from everything chaining her down too powerful?
Did it honestly matter, when the fact she was questioning this path made clear it had been of her own volition? Whenever had Dumbledore allowed her to act on her own? The man manipulated her at nearly every turn. He used deception and tricks to ensure she would end up where he wished. He could've dealt with Quirrell, with the basilisk, could have even freed Sirius Black without breaking a sweat.
Instead, he had thrown Edelweiss Potter, Heroic Potter, the poor little Girl-Who-Lived at the problem.
"I understand," she said, voice rough with her sudden emotions. "I will mind this lesson."
"Good," her master drawled, as if nothing would please her more than supplication. "That is perhaps the most difficult lesson for any Sith to learn. I know I struggled with it, enthralled with the power of the dark side so soon after abandoning the Jedi."
Edelweiss nodded, knowing she couldn't fathom how to respond to what Lady Bastila had admitted to her without stumbling over her words or putting her foot in her mouth. It was easier to accept what she was hearing, and wait for her master to shift the conversation elsewhere before replying.
"For now though," her master continued, "meditate. The time is approaching when I shall begin to teach you various techniques of using the Force. It grants a great many powers, and we have not even discussed your lightsaber training."
Several questions sprung to mind, but her master vanished back into the holocron before she could ask. With a huff, Edelweiss set it aside and went into her meditative position, legs crossed and hands upon her knees. She reached down into herself, found her anger, and stroked it like a fire as she closed her eyes. It grew, a blazing furnace within.
Soon, she would know how to channel it properly and would no longer be like a foolish child, stumbling in the dark.