The Lady Bastila
Long, tiresome days passed before Edelweiss claimed enough time for communion with Lady Bastila's holocron. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did their damndest to keep her busy about the house and garden as a sweltering heat wave grasped Britain tightly. They did not blink at using excessive water for the lawn, despite the BBC announcers repeatedly talking about the risk of drought. They took pride in their lawn and their roses, ignoring how Edelweiss and her magic kept them in their almost pristine condition. Not even letting that fact slip into conversation was enough to break their hold on her time. It took her secretly calling the police, pretending to be one of their neighbors, which ended their lawn tyranny and bought the time she wanted.
Edelweiss did not even need to lock herself into her room to ensure she had plenty of uninterrupted time with Lady Bastila. Uncle Vernon, in his blustering fury over her daring action, had locked the five locks attached to her door and informed her she would only receive a liter of water daily and the ends from each loaf of bread the Dursleys consumed. Given his bizarre weakness in allowing her to keep her trunk in her room this year, she could fetch the holocron whenever she wished.
She woke on a warm, humid morning with a feeling deep in her bones. Edelweiss went to her trunk, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and drew out the holocron from within. The red crystal sides glimmered when streaks of white light passed over them.
The holocron rose from her palm as she shifted backward into a kneeling posture. The relic glowed crimson as it hovered before her face. The anger simmering under her skin roared to life. She breathed in and out once before channeling her power into the pyramidal construct. The lower four corners twisted as the black crystal capstone glowed. A heartbeat later, Lady Bastila, red-hued and amused, was projected from the holocron.
"Apprentice," she drawled. "I wondered how long it would be until we would meet again."
"Lady Bastila," said Edelweiss, still uncomfortable with the thought of calling anyone master. It had slipped from her once. She swore she would not use it again until she was well and ready. "I am ready for my first lesson. Tell me about the Force."
Lady Bastila smiled widely. "If that is what you wish, I will teach you not only about the nature of the Force, but also the doctrine of the Sith. It is upon this foundation that all of your future lessons shall be built upon."
Edelweiss nodded as she shifted to get more comfortable. She had given some thought to what the Force was in the days since learning of its existence. Something magical, yes, but she could not deny that it was different as well. She knew it in her bones that the Force and her witch magic, while somehow related, could not be the same. She had realized that much when reflecting on the day she discovered Ziost Hangar.
"I am ready to learn," Edelweiss declared. "Please. Teach me."
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. They are a kind of microscopic life form. They act in symbiosis with life, playing the role of connecting each and every living being to the Force. Through them, we can access the Force and use its power for our aims. Through these midi-chlorians, 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 their self 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?" asked Edelweiss, frowning. From what Lady Bastila had already said about midi-chlorians and the Force, it sounded counterproductive to act against them.
"Because they link the Living Force to the Cosmic Force. When one dies, the power of their connection to the Living Force joins the Cosmic Force, granting it more power to influence the living. They work through the midi-chlorians, forming the basis of what some brazenly call the will of the Force.
"Be mindful, young apprentice, for the Cosmic Force can twist the will of any Force-sensitive if one is not careful. And if that comes to pass, it can deprive them of their liberty and right mind."
"What becomes of those who lose themselves to the Cosmic Force? Something terrible must happen if you are warning me of the Cosmic Force's influence."
She already had a suspicion of what might happen. The thought of becoming a slave as Lady Bastila implied made Edelweiss queasy and spiked her anger, a moment later. 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," confessed Lady Bastila. "She realized that the Force twists the wills of those sensitive to it so that it might achieve what our enemies—the Jedi—call balance. It was my master Revan, though, who realized that the enforcement of the Force's 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 that very will."
"And so this dark side you and Lord Salazar speak of protects us from its will? Prevents us from becoming its slaves like the Jedi?"
"Yes," purred Lady Bastila. "The dark side of the Force frees those sensitive to the Force from its will. Your passions protect you. They ensure you will not become its slave. The dark side is what allows us to master the Force and learn the secret truths of the universe. Our code emphasizes this truth through the words, 'The Force shall free me'."
"Can you teach me this code, master?" asked Edelweiss. She knew they would have come around to discussing the code regardless, but she needed exposure to the foundation of what it meant to be a Sith. "I learned the first line through the Force when I gained access to Lord Salazar's hangar and his collection of holocrons. The rest, however, I do not know yet."
Lady Bastila briefly considered her request before nodding. "I had meant to speak more about the Force before teaching you the Sith Code, but if you desire to know it now"—Edelweiss hastily nodded—"then I shall tell it to you. After that, we shall discuss their meaning. Listen closely, apprentice, for this is the foundation of what it means to be a Sith. This code is ancient. More ancient than any civilization on your backwater world. The code goes 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 as she worked to channel Hermione's inquisitiveness and cold logic into the process of considering and thinking over the Sith Code as Lady Bastila relayed it. "That first line… When you say peace, what… 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," Lady Bastila said with a slight smile. "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."
Edelweiss nodded. "So then how do the Jedi perceive peace?"
"The Jedi view peace as the absence of conflict. They strive to achieve their vaunted 'peace' by detaching themselves from the lives of those around them. No personal attachments. No desire. They are not even allowed to love another and to have children without intense scrutiny and the risk of expulsion from the Order."
"A pitiful existence," Edelweiss muttered. She remembered her first year at Hogwarts and the misadventures following Christmas. That image she had seen in the Mirror of Erised would forever remain scarred upon her heart. She had seen love. Belonging. Family. The things stolen from her by Voldemort—and Albus Dumbledore. "What's the point of life without attachments? How can they live without them?"
"What indeed," drawled Lady Bastila. Her smile grew larger. More pleased. "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. It is the nature of the galaxy and of life."
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 stronger 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 mild immunity to poison and potions. She had a sudden feeling it would not be prudent to tell Lady Bastila. Though perhaps there would be another holocron that could teach her more about poisons and how to combat them.
Lady Bastila continued, seemingly unaware of Edelweiss's thoughts. "The second line speaks to both our strength over the Jedi and what allows us to transcend the basic lives of animals. 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. Many a Sith Lord has been consumed by their passions and were warped into mindless beasts only suited for destruction and death."
"I think I've grasped the entire code and what it means," said Edelweiss, resting her chin upon a hand as she leaned forward. "Our passion and ambition inevitably leads to conflict. Only through strength of will do we survive and grow stronger as a result. That strength becomes the power necessary to become victorious over our enemies. It builds upon itself; power and victory, feeding each other symbiotically."
Lady Bastila laughed, that same tinkling sound she first heard in Salazar's solar. "You are a swift learner, apprentice. I do not know if any have been able to grasp the Sith Code's true meaning as easily as you. But you must remember: victory must be achieved by displaying your true power. Else, it is an illusion."
"I understand, master." Edelweiss blinked. She had not meant to call Lady Bastila 'master'. Yet she did not take her words back.
Lady Bastila acted as though she had not noticed the slip. "Best that you completely understand all I seek to teach you, apprentice. 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, so that they can be free to act as they please. Their will is superior to all." 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 if I am to be free… to be a Sith Lord."
Lady Bastila raised a curious eyebrow. Edelweiss required no further prompting.
"The oldest of my chains are the Dursleys. They are the 'family' I am forced to live with every summer. They used me as a slave before I learned about my magic, and still seek to abuse my labor for their gain. They must be permanently placed beneath me, as I was put beneath them before.
"The second set of chains is the magical public. Their opinions are mercurial and unreliable, 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. They must see me as I see myself. Not as my enemies and detractors do.
"After them… the next pressing chain to break would be Voldemort, the self-stylized Dark Lord who killed my parents and continues to hunt me. I must destroy him. I must erase every ounce of fear the people feel when they hear his assumed name uttered aloud. It should be known in all corners of the world that I am his vanquisher, greater than he ever was. By the time I am finished with him, Voldemort shall only be uttered concerning my rise."
"And the fourth?" asked Lady Bastila.
"Dumbledore," Edelweiss snarled with black fury. "All of my suffering comes back around to Albus Dumbledore. He has pulled my strings for long enough. I must ruin him, as he ruined me. Make it so none even speak of him."
Her rage rose in a violent swirl that filled every ounce of her being. Her hands tightened, knuckles blooming white as her emotions—her passions—coursed through her with certainty and dedication. Power came to her, intoxicating in its potential, as she imagined the four chains she would shatter as she became a Sith Lord.
"And once you have destroyed them, my apprentice?" whispered Lady Bastila.
"I will… I… I will…"
Edelweiss sighed. Her building rage faded. Sweat trickled from her hairline and down to her brow, and from where her glasses touched her face. She removed those glasses and set them aside. It should be possible for the Force to overcome this simple infirmary. "I do not know yet. I have given little thought to the future beyond the war I know I must fight. Voldemort has returned, and his last rise to power triggered a civil war that nearly overthrew my society."
"Then you must prepare to face the threat this 'Voldemort' poses to you and destroy all who dare oppose you," declared Lady Bastila, each word sharp and precise. Edelweiss met her master's severe expression. "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 and free yourself by using the power of the dark side of the Force."
"Of course," she replied, bowing her head. Edelweiss breathed in and then uttered the words that would guide her to her fate. "I submit myself to your teachings, my master."
"Good," drawled Lady Bastila. "You must keep our lessons a secret, apprentice. Having listened to all you have told me of your life, few around you will appreciate my lessons and the ways of the Sith. The greatest of all Sith has long been called the 'Dark Lord of the Sith.' This title was ancient history when I lived and breathed, some four thousand years ago. A time will come when you shall take up that mantle. One day you shall be the Dark Lord of the Sith. And one day, you will take on an apprentice who will take that title from you when the time comes."
Edelweiss nodded warily. She tasted sour bile in the back of her throat. Hearing she would naturally claim Voldemort's title horrified her. Yet she was thinking of that title as a mage. A human of Earth. Not as a Sith. For it was clear when she thought it through that the title of Dark Lord meant something different to the Sith. She would be wiser bringing honor to that ancient tradition. To be a Dark Lord of the Sith who would be spoken of how Lady Bastila spoke of her 'Lord Revan.'
He must have been one of those Dark Lords, she realized. A true Sith, almighty and valiant.
"None shall know of my training until the time to reveal myself comes," Edelweiss declared. Her heart and mind were both set toward the path of Sith Lord. She had already sworn herself to Lady Bastila's teaching, after all. She could not turn back. "And once I am named a Sith Lord, then I shall reveal myself."
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. A moment passed as she considered her assumed name when she became a Sith Lord, and then she smiled. She had long known that her mother's family had a tradition of naming daughters after flowers. Aunt Petunia had hated her over it—and perhaps even because she never had a daughter of her own. Edelweiss was a rare name in Britain. And the name her master, Lady Bastila, prescribed matched the pattern—and was graced with meaning. The name her parents gave her meant courage and devotion, vital traits in a time of war. But her new name, the Sith name she would one day embrace, 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 of names, but let them underestimate her; they would be easier to destroy.
"You honor me, 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 nodded. She was essentially self-taught. She feared that would not count in her master's eyes.
"Well, then. We shall begin."
July trudged on, broiling day after broiling day. The skies of England remained cloudless and blue as the sun rose early, beat down harshly, and settled late enough that without the blasting of air conditioning, temperatures resisted being forced down to a mild seventy inside Number Four until well after midnight. Edelweiss spent her days, when not under the heel of the Dursleys, meditating as she built and developed her connection with the Force.
Her master insisted she dedicate as many hours as she could each day to her meditation, 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 learned at Hogwarts. Lady Bastila failed to show signs of surprise when Edelweiss discussed her studies as a witch with her master. She developed two major suspicions following their conversation concerning witchcraft and magic: Lord Salazar had prepared her master and there were witches on other worlds. Whether or not they could perform the feats of the witches of her world was a question left unasked and likely for the best.
She had little interest in those people, for now. Her interest resided in her Sith studies.
Letters from her friends diminished from a few half-hearted notes at the beginning of the month to silence beyond a singular sentence a week before her birthday: We are safe but cannot write. Hermione mentioned early into the summer that she would stay with the Weasleys, incidentally implying in a manner Edelweiss suspected was a mistake that they were not at the Burrow. Her anger awakened and that letter burned into cinders and ash, despite it being days old when the realization reached her. Ron wrote little of note, for his letters were always shorter than Hermione's. His letter contained little but thoughts of Quidditch and attempts to try and drag her mind away from the things that mattered. She even sneered at his usage of 'your muggles' near the end.
And despite her hatred over the phrasing, Ron was right. The Dursleys were hers. They were hers to handle as she pleased. When Edelweiss was weak, she served them. And when she became strong, they would serve her.
And when the day comes, I shall have my chance for vengeance. For justice. To see old wrongs brought to right.
Edelweiss woke with the dawn on the final day of July. 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 ensure she reached her birthday while still awake, she had failed to remain awake to the moment she turned fifteen this year.
What did it matter when Edelweiss doubted she would receive letters and packages this year? Perhaps she would have a late birthday celebration in August. But on this day, she would receive nothing from them.
Edelweiss was kneeling upon the floor, Lady Bastila's holocron before her, when movement caught her eye. She froze and stared at the sight outside her window. She had been proven wrong. Four owls waited on her, two carrying packages. She sighed and rose to her feet, keeping the holocron in one hand. Edelweiss ended up setting it aside as she opened the window. The owls were smart enough to wait for her to step back before fluttering into her room and dropping their cargo onto her bed. Two departed and two remained, perching where they could on her broken, battered furniture.
Irritation bloomed, for she recognized the two owls—and she did not appreciate the sight of either. The smaller was Ron's excitable owl, called Pig instead of the long, noxious name the tiny beastie had come with. The other, worn and weary, was the Weasley's family owl: the greying, ancient Errol. She sighed, knowing well enough that they expected a perch to rest on and treats to gorge themselves with. Both had been left behind, for Edelweiss had sent Hedwig into the British wilds for the summer. All of the gear necessary for taking care of an owl remained at Hogwarts.
Her dear girl must be displeased being left to her own devices, but Hedwig had spent plenty of summers locked up. The owl would understand her fate, no matter how unpleasant it was for her.
Edelweiss turned her attention to the gifts and letters delivered for her, once the owls stopped begging for scraps. They could find plentiful hunting on their return to wherever Dumbledore had the Weasleys and Hermione holed up. Perhaps once the Headmaster thought she was sufficiently cowed by the Dursleys or was pleased by whatever reason justified her remaining at Privet Drive, he would finally relent and allow her to depart.
Once he had told her the blood wards would last as long as she considered Number Four to be home; it had never been so, especially after she learned what life at Hogwarts was like. What a potentially happy life could be like.
She began by opening the package wrapped in rough brown paper and twine. It came from Hagrid. He had sent her several rock cakes, packed tightly enough together that a few of them had chipped into pieces small enough she could suck on them to the point they might be chewable. They were quite old looking, as if baked weeks ago instead of being fresh out of his cast iron oven.
Dumbledore must have you speaking with the giants, trying to placate them. It shall fail, but at least he takes that seriously.
She opened a small package, properly wrapped. It turned out to be from Sirius and Remus. She was surprised they dared send her something together. Then again, her godfather had foolishly returned to Britain following her forced entry into the Triwizard Tournament. Edelweiss had a feeling Sirius was foolishly caught up in whatever Dumbledore plotted or planned. Instead, he should be wise for once and build her a place to secretly use across the Channel on the Continent, should the worst ever come to pass. That would never come to pass, but she preferred a godfather more concerned with preserving her life than throwing away his.
They had sent a pair of books. She found one to be filled with the exploits of the Marauders, her father's friends from Hogwarts. The other was blank, left for her to fill as she pleased.
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. They had packaged letters within. They were about as long as past birthday letters, yet somehow lacked all depth about their summer hols. She glowered, setting them aside, and wondered who it was telling them to censor their letters. Was it Dumbledore or Mrs. Weasley? Perhaps both in conjunction? That was the only conclusion she could come to, especially with how oddly lacking Hermione's were.
Unsurprisingly, Hermione gifted her a tome too thick to be sensible. Edelweiss frowned at the unlabeled cover and spine. They had the feeling of snakeskin, oddly enough. She had to flip the book open to find a title, written in squiggling, slanted lines that blurred into readable English in her mind: The Ways of Parselmagic.
"How quaint," she drawled. "But I've grown beyond plain, quaint matters like this." There was neither pleasure nor disgust in Edelweiss's heart. Strangely, she felt nothing.
She reread Hermione's letter. Her friend had written little to suggest why she had gotten the book she selected, though it did appear she was trying to make good on it. Hermione did mention she thought the tome "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".
…it would likely be rude to tell them they wasted their coin, but then why would a Sith Lord care about offending simple people?
Ron, on the other hand, had somehow gone through the trouble of ordering a few choice items from Zonko's. Edelweiss could not fathom why he bothered to do so. She had gifted the Twins a thousand galleons toward an inevitable joke shop. She might not have told them to outright run a shop when she gave them coin. But it would happen. She knew it. Frankly, she would have preferred for Ron to gift her with something made by his brothers instead of Zonko's products.
The final package was from the Weasleys at large. Edelweiss opened the package and found mince pies. Those, she knew, were without a doubt Mrs. Weasley's doing. The entire package was probably so. Had the Twins or Ginny been involved, she suspected there would have been 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 with the hope she would learn something new this day. Activating the holocron was second nature now. Touching and wielding the Force reminded her now of her second term at Hogwarts, when the feel of magic flowing through her holly wand became second nature.
"You are in a strangely good mood this day, apprentice," said Lady Bastila shortly after she appeared. "I feel that… Could it be? Is today your birthday?"
"I am fifteen now," said Edelweiss. She sounded slightly pleased with herself; despite the fact growing a year older should not be something to be pleased over. "In two years, the law shall finally recognize me as an adult."
The Sith Lord surprised her apprentice by sniffing. "A silly thing to be excited about, apprentice. Though if your past is wrought with danger and death that to reach such a simple age is worth being excited over, then I surmise you have achieved much in turn."
Edelweiss nodded. "I should have died when I was only fifteen months, master. That I have seen for many years is a triumph. The so-called Dark Lord Voldemort has tried several times to kill me." She smiled, bearing her teeth. "I will see him dead in the end. The dark side is a power he knows not, master. It shall be his undoing."
"Be mindful that your ambition does not make you arrogant, apprentice," warned Lady Bastila. "Certainty in your power will lead to victory over those who underestimate you. But if you believe yourself more powerful than you truly are, then your certainty becomes arrogance and overconfidence. That shall be your undoing."
"So even the Sith are not immune to pride."
"It is worse, I am afraid. Many Sith have indulged in pride and arrogance. It is only natural when facing the swell of power that is the dark side of the Force. In the end, their lack of foresight brought about their destruction. You would do well to heed those lessons, apprentice."
Edelweiss nodded while struggling to not frown at her master's warning. Doubt twisted her gut, teasing her with nausea as she considered what could happen. Lord Salazar and Lady Bastila believed she would completely embrace the dark side and become the Dark Lord of the Sith. Her master even spoke of her taking an apprentice of her own one day.
Was it truly her fate to become the Dark Lord of the Sith? Or had she fallen for the lure of power to defeat Voldemort? Yet the possibility of freedom was too enthralling.
And if she were frank, did it truly matter? That she could question her path meant that she was choosing it of her own volition. When 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, and 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 thick, almost sudden emotion. "I will mind this lesson, master."
"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. She had no clue how to respond to her master's revelation. She knew of the Jedi, thanks to Lady Bastila, but to hear that her master had once been one was a surprise. And frankly, she was uncertain how to respond. It was easier to accept what she heard and wait for her master to change the course of their conversation before speaking.
"For now," her master continued, "you will meditate. The time approaches when I will begin teaching you techniques to use and manipulate the Force. It grants a great many powers, and we have yet to discuss your lightsaber training."
Several questions sprung to mind, but her master vanished, leaving the holocron dark, before she could ask. With a huff, Edelweiss set the holocron aside and shifted into a meditative posture, with her legs crossed and hands resting lightly on 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 this power properly and would no longer be like a foolish child, stumbling in the dark.