The Angels Saga: Angels of Love: The Lucy Potter Septet

 ‘Lucy Potter and the Vengeance of Lucifer’

(Lucy Potter Book Two)

(NOTE:  J K Rowling has authorized fanfiction of Harry Potter.)

by Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

© 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010

NOTE:  SC = Since Creation (calendar)

Chapter One

5992 SC

The eternal Dreamlord, unnoticed, entered the throneroom of Zaphon.  He had time to spend with the God of the Covenant.  The eternal Father of Glory.  He approached the throne.  The flame of the eternal spirit of God burned brightly, as it had always done, above the throne of glory.  All his life Daniel had known that flame.  He had, from time to time, studied the flame – the spark of the Glory of God.  It flowed through, in endless random patterns and variations, all the colours of life.  Often, for days at a time, a persistent streak of a colour would radiate from the flame above the throne, and then suddenly change without notice.  At other times the flame flickered bright sparks, sparks of red and orange, blue and green, and even dark black on various occasions.  No angel – no eternal – not even the humans Enoch or Elaine understood the purpose of the flame or why it did what it did.  And, so it was felt, to guess the eternal mind of their eternal God – a creature beyond the fathoming of even the greatest minds of eternity’s realm – seemed, while not perhaps pointless, certainly beyond the greatest of endeavours the community of God’s angels could ever consider.

The Dreamlord spoke.  ‘Father.  Are you there?’  Nothing answered the Dreamlord’s question.  Nothing immediately, anyway.  He looked at the flame for a few moments more and decided, as others often did, that God perhaps was unwilling to speak to them at that time.  Silence often responded to many angelic inquiries.

The Dreamlord turned, walking back towards the doors to leave the throneroom.  He looked at the benches alongside the walls of the throneroom and decided to sit down momentarily, reviewing his thoughts.

After a few moments, having seated himself down, the voice of God spoke.  ‘Yes.’  Daniel looked at the flame.  Cautiously he began with his request.  ‘Father.  The child of David Potter.  Lucy.  My eternal sister from Azaphon.  I have a request regarding her welfare.  Elaine Belloc, Michael’s daughter, has shown a great interest in Lucy.  She desired Lucy’s protection.  Her safety and welfare.  I understand, of course, that in life – in this human life you have planned for each of us your children – that innocence is often destroyed.  Often unjustly and brutally evil triumphs over good and darkness prevails.  Yet I also know that your eternal spirit of justice always rights wrongs.  That the truth and love of God always prevails.  However, in relation to Miss Potter, on behalf of Elaine I would likewise request your special intervention.  Your special favour.  Your hand of protection.  I would, heavenly father, if you were to accede to this request of mine, be most grateful.’  The Dreamlord left off speaking.  Silence answered his request.  Yet, after what was perhaps a moments consideration by the eternal, a word of God came forth.  ‘Life.’  The Dreamlord sat there, thinking on that.  ‘Life.’  Now what kind of answer was that?  Life.  Hmmm.  He looked at the flame, a quizzical look on his face, but decided to let it go.  He stood, and said, ‘Thank you Father.’  He turned to leave and, just as he was about to exit the throneroom another word was spoken, seemingly, seemingly at the back of his mind, yet seemingly from the throne of God as well.  It was, again, one word.  ‘Destiny.’

The Dreamlord turned to look at the flame.  It burned, as it always had.  It burned, suddenly turning from red to bright orange, and a few sparks coming forth.  He looked at the flames, considered that word, and turned and left the throneroom of Zaphon of the Realm of Eternity.

*   *   *   *   *

5992 SC

Lucy looked at the cat, once again, miaowing furiously in the air of Shelandragh’s living room.  ‘Mushroom.  Control yourself.  You know full well I will not let you down until I am finished what I have intended to do.  Yet Mushroom, as belied Shelandragh May’s favourite cat in her long sojourn through life, persisted miaowing at her female opponent.  The cat, quite sick to death at being the pawn in one of Lucy’s many spell attacks, decided to hiss at her.  Perhaps that would work.  She let out a ‘hissss.’  Lucy looked sternly at the cat.  ‘Mushroom.  Watch your temper.  For that I will punish you.’  She pointed her wand at mushroom and said a single word.  ‘Tailfreeze.’  A white light came forth from her wand, and Mushroom’s tail dutifully froze up.  Mushroom, in response, screeched and hissed furiously at Lucy.  ‘That is for your temper, Mushroom.  Now, keep quiet.’  Lucy, having today been working on various spell combinations, which was combining elements of certain spells together to produce unique and original results, thought on her next spell.  She looked at the grandfather clock against the wall, and decided on one of the new spells she had been thinking of.  Pointing her wand, she spoke, ‘Chronos Reversus’.  However, instead of a light coming forth from her wand, something different happened.  Something like a spiritual bubble started wrapping around her.  Soon she was totally enshrouded by it.  Looking at mushroom, she noticed the cats’s tail unfreezing as quickly as it froze.  And a few seconds later, the cat started descending to the floor, in the same manner as she had used the hover spell.  Lucy was puzzled.  What, exactly, was going on?  After a few moments, Shelandragh entered the room.  Yet, as bizarre as it looked, walking backwards, and in a most strange manner sitting down as if she was getting up from her chair in reverse.  She looked at Shelandragh for a few moments and then it occurred to her just what was going on.  Time was flowing backwards.  The spell she had cast, Chronos Reversus, while only intended to affect the clock on the wall, had affected the whole area she was in.  She thought on what she needed to do and tried one of her new spell combination ideas.  ‘Chronos Cease.’  Instantly everything froze.  Nothing was moving.  The fire in the fireplace did not flicker.  The cat did not move, nor did Shelandragh.  And the clock on the wall was not moving.  Very interesting, Lucy thought to herself.  But how did she get things flowing again.  She thought on that and then the obvious spell came to her.  She pointed her wand and said, ‘Chronos’.  Instantly the bubble departed, and everything started again.  Shelandragh was actually speaking.  ‘….so if you will excuse me, I will get myself a cup of tea.’  Shelandragh got up from her chair, as before, and left the room.  Watching her go, Lucy realized that time had restored itself.  But now, in a strange way, she was living in the past.  Yet that was only for a few moments.  She would catch up shortly.

She sat down, thinking over the new spell.  It could prove interesting, to say the least, to use the spell in certain situations.  But, perhaps, that would not be the right thing to do.  It was like cheating, she thought to herself, if she used the spell unfairly.  But, in a dangerous situation – a situation were the use of the spell was appropriate – well, that would be alright.

Shelandragh came into the room holding a cup of tea, and sipping from it slowly.  She looked at Lucy, noting the puzzling look on her student’s face.  ‘Is something concerning you, Lucy?’  Lucy looked at her for a few moments before replying.  ‘Uh.  No Shelandragh.  Well, yes.  But I don’t think I can talk about it.’  ‘Well whatever it is, I am sure it can wait until later.  For now we have one last thing in today’s lesson to concern ourselves with, if that is okay by you?’  Lucy nodded.  ‘Now,’ continued Shelandragh, ‘you have learnt the runes now, and know each of them.  Ancient Celtic runic witchcraft is barely remembered in the old world of Terra and Britannia.  Today I will teach you your first spell in an ancient Celtic language.  The spell is called (Fire in the Water).  This spell can make even water burn as fuel.  Now, here, take this cup,’ said Shelandragh, handing Lucy her cup of tea.  ‘Careful, it’s hot.’  Lucy took the cup, holding it by the handle.  ‘Best if you place it on the table, Lucy.’  Lucy did so.  ‘Now take your wand.  Point it at the cup and say (Fire in the Water).’   Lucy did as Shelandragh asked, and immediately a bright flame started up coming from the tea in the teacup.  ‘Wow,’ said Lucy, happy at her success.  ‘The flame will continue until all the liquid is used up, basically like kerosene or wax, but it should last quite a while.  As always, I trust you will only use this spell in appropriate circumstances.’  ‘Yes, Shelandragh,’ said Lucy, very used to the oft-spoken lesson.

*   *   *   *   *

5992 SC

‘Ooh.  Back again are we.’  ‘Why yes, Minxy.  It is I.’  The sprite of the crossing of Chakola, in response to Lucy’s summoning, was hovering just in front of her.  Lucy, over the last few weeks since the incident in Cooma and becoming Lucy the Hero had slowly been growing in confidence.  She had been speaking to Minxy, carefully though, to learn as much about life that the sprite could teach her – to learn the lessons she felt she needed to know.  She had come to know that Minxy’s sprite family had come from much further upstream, up near the source of the river.  Near the head, as in many rivers, congregations of sprite families often lived and had their communities.  Going downstream, as it was called, was rarely practiced as, quite often, the quality of the water deteriorated through use, especially, so she had learned, in some of the larger rivers of the world.  However, the Newmerella river was most usually extremely clean and good water.  Of course, animal matter often floated downstream, as the river flowed past a number of farms.  Yet, usually, the river was still quite clean and good to live in.

Lucy had been asking Minxy about life as a sprite and the kind of things she thought life was all about.  Minxy seemed wise.  She was, as many sprites were, quite old.  Over 300 years Minxy had been living at Chakola, and about 1000 years more upstream at the head were her old family still resided.  Lucy, as children her age usually did, quite enjoyed Minxy’s cute humour.  She was oh so sarcastic.  She teased Lucy, often, quite shockingly.  She suggested certain sexual activities that Lucy may want to consider very soon, often, to Lucy’s surprise, quite brazenly.  Once, when Jayden was over working with David just in the paddock a little away from the crossing, Minxy suggested to Lucy that she should shag him when he gets a little older.  Lucy had been most embarrassed.  She really viewed Jayden as more of a brother than a potential boyfriend.  But he had been growing a little cuter over the last few years she had known him.  She would remember Minxy’s words, though, and consider Jayden in a few years.  Perhaps around 14 or 15 when she planned on having her first boyfriend.

‘So what do you want to know today, Lucy.  Hey.  Huh.’  ‘You really do have an attitude, don’t you Minxy.’  ‘Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.  What is life without a spark?  So many people are sooo bloody boring.  Like David, for example.  The intelligence of a farmer indeed.  Sheer the sheep.  Fix the fence.  Plow the field.  Oh, exciting.  Now that looks like fun.  Don’t ya think.’  ‘Well someone has to do it, don’t they Minxy?’  ‘Mmm.  Whatever.  I suppose.  I guess I have my work as well.  But the life of a sprite is far more interesting, I dare say.’  ‘Why do you say that Minxy?’  ‘Well, I shouldn’t let on.  Really, I shouldn’t.  But there are regular sprite and dryad gatherings we hold around here.  We do all sorts of things.’  ‘Like what?’  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’  ‘So you are not going to tell me?’  ‘Maybe when you are older, Lucy.  Maybe when you are older.’  ‘Go on.  Please tell me.’  ‘Well, seeing as you asked.  A lot of S-E-X.  Pretty much a hell of a lot of S-E-X.’  Lucy looked at Minxy, a little embarrassed.  ‘Oh, I see.’  ‘Oh, shocking aren’t I.  Whatever will they think of next.  Huh.  Huh.’  Lucy looked at Minxy and decided that was about enough of that for the day.  She felt, perhaps, a little too much of such conversation could lead to things that young Lucy was not quite ready for.  ‘I must leave now, Minxy.  Umm.  Things to take care of.’  ‘Whatever,’ Minxy said in return, and dutifully flew back down to the riverbed.  Lucy left the crossing and slowly walked back up to the schoolhome, the thoughts of Minxy’s words on her mind.

*   *   *   *   *

Lucy looked at the pamphlet her mum, Caroline, had handed to her upon walking through the doorway of her schoolhome in Chakola.  ‘Cooma Fair.  Centennial Park.  February 14.  Be there or be square.’  Lucy, very quickly, decided she didn’t want to be square, so assented to her mother’s suggestion she attend the fair with David’s children.  She read through the pamphlet, looking at the activities for the day:  The band ‘The Extreme Kings’ would be playing at Mid-day and at 9.00pm.  There were various markets with traditional fare goods.  Also, other standard show attractions appropriate to the park.  However, what caught Lucy’s eye, was the tent of magic which was to be set up.  She would have to speak to Shelandragh about this as soon as possible to let her know.  Shelandragh, Lucy felt, would be most interested in that attraction.

Later that night, having finally finished ‘Born of Thunder’, the Asatru spiritual epic, Lucy thought on that subject Minxy had mentioned.  It was her 11^th birthday very soon.  February 13^th, in fact.  The day before the fair.  Perhaps, on her 11^th birthday, which such an age might warrant, she would look at one of those magazines at the newsagent.  The new ones with all the pictures of men through them.  She had never noticed them before, but when she was last at ‘Percy’s newsagent’ she had noticed, looking through the ‘girlie’ magazine section, a couple of magazines which were apparently filled with men.  She was, of course, far to young to think such things.  But, perhaps, at 11, having a look through might prepare her for the boyfriend she planned at a later date.  Give her the necessary exposure and understanding to know what she needed to know on such issues as S-E-X.  It should prove an interesting study, young Miss Lucy Potter thought to herself.

*   *   *   *   *

5992 SC

Grimlock, sitting in his abode on Sharp street in Cooma, sat looking at an old photo of his late wife Matilda.  Grimlock and Matilda had known each other briefly.  The romance had been quick – sudden really.  In terms of looks, Grimlock was average, or so he thought.  Yet Matilda had claimed that he did have a certain charm to his looks, more noticeable with experience.  Matilda, Grimlock felt, was a bit beyond what he deserved.  She was, while not a stunner as in those magazines, certainly above average in looks.  She had been non-magical – a muggles.  And she had taken no interest in the subject when he had brought it up.  However, what he felt she had seen in him, having reflected on her words over the years, was a basic sense of stability and competence.  She had once said that he was not, really, a flakey type of a person.  Quite sure of himself, she had thought.  Grimlock considered this often.  Her words had influenced his life since that time.  He did, considering himself, generally agree.  He did not really devote much time to the ‘stupid’ passions of the muggles.  Simplistic idiots.  Better off dead, which he had in fact arranged for the three philosophers in particular.  In relation to the issue of human life, Grimlock was not quite moral in his judgement.  He did not think that life, for a muggles, was really worth much.  That they were, in a way, less advanced.  Less evolved.  His idea of human life and its origins were based around a spiritual power of passion and fire.  Through evolution the fire of life sought out those with spirit to advance them to the next level of human development.  In his beliefs, the work he undertook as a human could change his genetic structure over a life-time, further affecting his seed.  He had, as a full-blood, the power to evolve to the next level.  To become a ‘force’ of life.  A will of indomitable strength.  To succeed in this war of survival of the fittest, were only the strong survived, the weak were eliminated.  If necessary, killed and destroyed.  Best to do away with the weaker elements.  Let them die out, as they served no great purpose in the game of life.

Yet, occasionally, he was convicted.  He had, once, been to church.  A Baptist one.  The pastor had spoken to him personally and shared the basic message of the Christian faith.  It had confused him.  It offered a perspective not quite like his own.  A sense of morality – of decency – of kindness – which was not how Grimlock knew the world to work.  It was idiotic, ultimately, to Grimlock’s judgement.  To the truths he understood.  Yet, they were enticing.  They were enticing.  And the bible which sat in his bookcase he had read, rarely mind you, but read from time to time.

The idea of the ‘God’ presented in the bible Grimlock did not really relate to.  It was a personal god.  A being which, apparently, cared for mankind.  This seemed to be the way it was presented.  Grimlock did not, really, believe in this god.  It was at odds with his own views.  But he did seem interesting.  Interesting.  Perhaps his beloved Matilda was somewhere in the universe.  Perhaps in the ‘heaven’ which Christians went on about.  He did like to think that would be nice.  Yet perhaps just entertaining a fantasy about life.  A fantasy of what the meaning to it all was all about.

Chapter Two

5992 SC

‘Yes Lucy.  I do know of the magic tent.’  ‘Will you be getting involved at all with it Shelandragh?’  ‘Nothing directly planned, Lucy.  Naturally I will visit the tent.  Alfric informed me that it is being organised by some witches from Sydney.  They have a more established network up there – more resources to organise such affairs.’  ‘Has there been anything like this in Cooma before?’  ‘Not that I can recall.  However, in recent years these sorts of gatherings have become more and more popular.  Much of the time wiccan witches are involved.  However, those of the older traditional craft, before such things as wicca became mainstream, are often involved as well.  The Ministry oversees affairs in the traditional witch scene, however the newer wiccan movements are often quite independent, more flexible to the passions and desires of today.  Not, Lucy, so steeped in tradition.  As a case in point, I have had relations with a particular wiccan witch from Perth who calls herself the ‘Wiccan witch of the west’ – I am sure you get the reference.’  Lucy nodded, but the reference was actually lost on her.

‘She is, for a witch, extremely outgoing and passionate.  Not in any way of the dark side as our adversaries are, but, rather, dedicated to the fires and passions of life.  In fact, quite passionate from my observations.  Have you yet seen the ‘Craft’?  Lucy looked at her, a little confused.  ‘The Craft?’  A movie from a number of years ago about modern witchery.  An American movie of teenage girls experimenting in witchcraft.’  ‘What was the movie about?’  ‘Dramatic teen witchery – typical teen drama for Hollywood, really.  Yet the dress code of these witches seems, from what I have noticed, to have had a dramatic impact on the dress code of many teenage girls in society.  Witchcraft is now, thankfully, becoming socially acceptable.  This particular witch friend of mine from Perth was infatuated with the movie.  She models herself on their ways, and pushes witchcraft to be accepted.  Of course it has not always been as such.’

Lucy, having grasped a little from Shelandragh of the difficulties witches used to face, asked her a question.  ‘Witches haven’t always been accepted.  Have they?’  ‘No Lucy.  Not until recent years.  In fact, witch trials and witch hunts, with witches often having been put to death for very simple magic, litters our history.  There have been dark witches in the past, but often from my memories and my own experience we were simply attracted to some of the ideas of magic and rebellion against the establishment.’  ‘The establishment?’ queried Lucy.  ‘The life and values our society has developed over its history, Lucy.  For example, the old testament teaches that witches and magical people should be executed.’  Lucy reacted quite strongly to this information.  ‘That’s not right.  It shouldn’t say that.  Madalene has never said anything like that too me.’  ‘Lucy, Madalene probably does not yet know of this teaching.  Many people in the church do not read the bible in any great detail.  It is, in a way, a fading text.’

‘But why does it say those things?  Why does God hate witches so?’  ‘It was, really Lucy, a misunderstanding amongst the early chroniclers of Jewish law.  They were reactionary against their slavery and the oppression they had suffered in Egypt.  They took out their vengeance in introducing malicious death penalties to wipe out their enemies.  They were, in truth, motivated by revenge and hate, rather than forgiveness and love.  However, certain biblical passages justify the murder of witches and wizards when demonic beings are involved.  This is, in a way, less problematic.  We – you and I – as witches need to be dedicated to the light.  People will always remain interested in magic and spiritual energy, and it should never be forbidden their knowledge.  Yet caution is required.  The darker forces in the magical realm often interfere with Lightworkers activities, bringing disrepute to the reputation we actually deserve.’  ‘But they shouldn’t kill witches just because they contact demons?  That is mean?’  ‘I understand were you are coming from, Lucy.  But remember, the nature of evil is vengeful and dark.  Full of maliciousness and hate.  Those who corrupt their hearts and give themselves over to the dark side have, in truth, already started on the pathway to death from were they will improbably return, perhaps as Solomon says in his proverbs.’  Lucy nodded, but uneasiness was in her heart.  She hated the death penalty.  People needed to be allowed to live.  They needed to know that they were loved and could be forgiven.  This was, in the heart of young miss Lucy Potter, a most fierce and decided passion.

*   *   *   *   *

5992 SC

The Xtreme Kings looked at each other, a little nervous.  Jerry tapped on his drums a little, while  Ty started plugging in some cords to a Marshall amp.  Doug began riffing on his Bass guitar, some new ideas coming through.  In front of the concrete stage, with a curved roof overhead, the various citizens of Cooma were busy enjoying the fair which had started that morning at 9.00.  The Xtreme Kings had begun setting up at around 10.00 and their first show was to start at 12.00 mid-day.  They had performed in the pubs in Cooma from time to time, but this was their first major gig.  They had 7 songs in the morning set and 7 more in the evening set.  They had selected their best material of the thirty or so pieces they had finished, and hoped for good things.

Their second album, the Stoned Philosophers, had been picked up by Warner Brothers records in Australia.  This one, they hoped, would be their breakthrough album.  They had different sounding material on this album – not like their first.  It was laced with religious elements, a popular topic of conversation for the Kings.  The first song, ‘In the New Age’ was an intense musical rush.  Extremely condemning of the ‘New Age Movement’, which they had decided to have a go at.  Of course, the killer track on the album was the second one, their best song, ‘Goldilox’.  This was an intense musical melodrama of forlorn love.  A heart devoted to a lady, so hard to get.  Almost out of reach.  It was, for the kings, their purest moment.  They had initially decided to call the Album ‘Out of the Silent Planet’, and had designs of multiple earths on the cover.  But they had ultimately decided on the ‘Stoned Philosophers’, in honour of their fallen friends.  Warners had suggested a band-name change to ‘Kings X’, but the band had decided to stick with the name ‘The Extreme Kings’.

The other killer track on the album was ‘Shot of Love’, which was a rewritten version of ‘Afterlife’.  The music was the same, but they had decided to change the song title to reflect the heart they had for their fallen friends.  They had sent the philosophers, in their heart, off to God – off to heaven – and prayed a spirit of love from God to come to them to inspire their hearts.

They decided to start with those three tracks in that order, and choose the rest as they went along.

*   *   *   *   *

5992 SC

George Daley, aged 55 – the Cherubim Saruviel - Brigid’s brother and David’s brother in-law sat with Hubert in front of the stage were the Xtreme Kings were warming up.  Elizabeth, George’s wife was seated next to George.  A friend of Hubert’s, Kylie, was sitting with them.  George began speaking.  ‘My brother Daniel has their debut CD.  He is a big fan.’  Hubert nodded.  ‘Yeh.  We have a few copies in the shop.  They sell occasionally.  A bit different, but there ok.’  ‘What type of music do you like Kylie?’ Elizabeth asked Kylie.  ‘I like Eminem.  S Club 7 are ok as well.’  Elizabeth nodded.  ‘I have never really listened to Eminem, but George has an S Club 7 cd.  The first one.  They are really good.  Very positive.  Funloving.  I like them.’  ‘Who do you like Elizabeth?’ Kylie asked.  ‘Jewel is one of my favourites.  As well as Delta Goodrem.’  ‘Yeh, I like Delta,’ said Kylie.

Up on the stage Doug announced they were about to begin.  The kings were, now, extremely well experienced at their craft.  They were by no means a young band.  They had been playing music for years, and now in their middle-age.  But they had gained passion in recent years and were now ready to really push.  They were sure they were on the verge of a breakthrough for themselves.

The music began.  An introduction flowed out in the most original and unique of sounds.  And then the lyrics.  ‘The Riddle of the Ages is the New Age of the End, when the souls and hearts of mankind no longer call God friend.  The Riddle of the ages is the New age you will find.  Were they follow riches vainly, and unto God they are so blind.’  The song continued on with ever more complex lyrics, yet this didn’t really bother the audience who took it as standard rock metal. The kind of stuff they were used to.

They finished the song and the audience reacted quite positively.  They had seemed to like it.  Doug steadied himself, prayed a quick prayer, and began his soulful melody.  ‘I wish you were here with me, my heart in yours, devotedly.  I wish my soul was joined with you.  Forever pure, forever true.  I say these words, they are my soul, to sweetest love who makes me whole.  Be with me, forever mine, and I will love you for all time.’

At the end, the audience was quiet.  It had taken them by surprise.  It was, musically, different.  Decent.  Kind.  Some hearts had softened a little, and slowly people started clapping a bit.  Doug looked at Ty, who nodded.  He looked at Jerry who nodded also.  He gave a little grin, and started on the next track.

*   *   *   *   *

Lucy sat with Madalene, Jayden and Georgia a distance away from the stage, all of them eating chips.  Lucy looked, nervously, so as not to show it, at Georgia’s new scar.  Just the previous night Georgia had been with Lucy at the farmhouse with Jayden and Madalene.  Georgia had been outside for around half an hour, and Caroline had suggested Lucy go off looking for her.  She had found her down by the stream, having apparently fainted.  And, seemingly, she had hit her head, as a wound, hauntingly in the shape of an ‘l’, now graced her forehead.  Right between here eyes.  Georgia could not remember how she had gotten the scar.  In fact, she had said she could not remember anything since leaving the house.  Caroline and Brigid both assumed that what was probably a bump to the head had made her forgetful.  Brigid, Georgia’s mother, had taken her to the hospital in the morning to have her checked out.  The doctor at emergency advised caution, but said she seemed generally ok.  They had glued the wound together, rather than stitching it, which was a newer treatment.

The ‘l’ haunted Lucy.  It seemed as if it was an ‘l’ named deliberately after herself.  As if Georgia had gotten herself entangled in something and taken the ‘l’ in Lucy’s honour – as her friend.  They were strange thoughts for Lucy.  Paranoid really.  But after the incident with Lucifer Malfoy, she still worried a little.

Unknown to Lucy, though, was that Alexander Darvanius II had sent one of his henchman, Brax, to place a spiritual ‘bug’ upon young Georgia – one through which he could watch over and keep his eye upon young Lucy Potter.  Brax had grabbed Georgia down by the forge of Chakola, and placed the spell upon her.  And, to complete the spell, Brax had taken out a pocket knife, carving the slightest ‘l’ mark into her forehead, not to damaging, to appear as if she had hit her head.  Yet that mark, the ‘l’ for ‘Lucy’, enabled Alexander Darvanius II to trace young Miss Potter, so as to be aware of her whenever he needed to.

Alexander Darvanius II had studied witchcraft and was adroit, like many masters, in the ways of witchery.  He was attuned, in particular, to the dark side of magic, yet, in his redeemable way, Saruviel was not ultimately evil.  Perhaps, if anything, misunderstood.  The mark he had born in his youth, for a short few years, the birthmark of 6 6 6, was undoubtedly the work of prophecy.  Alexander himself knew nothing of the mark, as it had faded before he had known about it, and in this respect he was as much a pawn of prophecy as anyone could possibly be.

Yet the father of Glory, long ago, had planned out a destiny for his son Saruviel.  Lucy Potter, the lastborn of the children of Heaven, was key in that destiny.  Lucy, with the aid of many others, would in time defeat Alexander Darvanius II and his attempts to rule Christendom and the world.  For soon, just ahead in the years of life for young Lucy Potter, the Taheb – The Seraphim Angel Davriel of the Realm of Eternity – would come into prominence, making Israel’s great declaration before the children of mankind.  And then, Darvanius empire – his glorious New World Order – would begin forming in response to his bitter opponent, the Taheb.  Yet, Darvanius would be defeated, and the Taheb would emerge triumphant.  The Taheb – the Son of God – and the first Messiah would emerge and fulfill his rulership for 400 years, the allotted time prophetically for the Messiah’s rulership in writings of Esdras.

*   *   *   *   *

5992 SC

‘Yeah, whatever.  But Herbie’s better.’  ‘Herbie.  You call that piece of junk Herbie?  That’s a joke, right.  Herbie.  Ha.’  ‘Watch it, creep.’  That said, the creep who had been pestering Lindsay and boasting about his Ford Falcon, walked away.  Lindsay, grateful to see the pest leave, said to Herbie, ‘Ignore that creep Herbie.  He has no idea what he is talking about.  You’re going to win, alright.  You’re going to win.’  In response to that encouragement, Herbie let out a honk on his horn, which gave Lindsay a puzzled look.  Lindsay was at the Canberra Dragway, having entered Herbie into a dragster competition.  The organisers had thought, looking at the car, that while they understood the practical joke Lindsay was playing on them in entering the competition, they decided to let her enter anyway for comic relief.  She was now, though, ready to put Herbie to the ultimate test.  She’d had Herbie fitted, at her grandfather’s great expense, a jet engine specially designed for a bug.  Her father had said she was a nut, but she loved Herbie and decided to do it anyway.  And now she was ready to put Herbie to the ultimate test.

The creep who was her opponent in the next dragrace had mocked Herbie, but she knew she could win.  She was going to come first, that was certain.  ‘Well, Lucy.  The race is set to start shortly.  You had better get back to your seat.’  ‘Good luck, Lindsay.  You’re going to win.’  ‘You bet.’  Lucy left the race track and returned to her seat next to Shelandragh and Darren, who were both anxiously looking on.  Shelandragh turned to her.  ‘Is Lindsay nervous?’  ‘No, I think she is okay, Shelandragh.  I think she is determined to win.’  ‘What was all that with the other racer?’ asked Darren.  ‘Oh, he was having a go at Herbie.  But Lindsay told him to go away.’

The announcer came over the loudspeakers declaring that the next race was about to begin.  As Lucy watched on, Lindsay drove Herbie up to the starting line.  ‘Good luck Lindsay,’ Lucy whispered to herself.

Inside Herbie, Lindsay started pushing some special buttons – buttons which she had not told the organisers about.  The Jet engine propulsion system started charging up, and out the back of Herbie panels rolled back and orange fiery flames started shooting out.  The people in the stands started yelling and shouting, pointing to the flames.  Lucy looked at them, and wandered just what Herbie was now made of.

One of the race organisers came over to speak to Lindsay.  ‘Just what the hell is in your car?’ he asked.  Lindsay gave him a cute look and said, ‘An engine.’  The organiser went to look at the back of the car and stared at the flames for a moment.  He came back to Lindsay, shook his head, saying, ‘Yeah, well.  Good luck.’  ‘Thanks.’

The track cleared, and the crowd started its usual tumultuous behaviour.  Lindsay looked at the lights.  They suddenly started on red.  ‘Okay Herbie.  Here we go.’  The lights went through their colours and when they hit green, Lindsay pushed the accelerator to the floor and Herbie belted away.

The race was over in a flash.  The two cars started together, but after a split second, Herbie flashed like lightning as the jet engines power pushed the bug to the limit.  And then, when Herbie passed the finish line, well in front of the creep opponent, Lindsay yelled out, ‘Herrrbiieee.’  The crowd, as such crowds usually do, erupted.  Cheers were everywhere.  Lindsay slowed Herbie down, and the bug eventually came to a stop.  She got out of Herbie and raised her hand to wave to the crowd.  ‘The cheering was intense and Lindsay had won.’  Sitting in the crowd, Lucy had a big smile on her face.  ‘Way to go Herbie,’ she said softly.

Chapter Three

5992 SC

Lucifer Malfoy sat in his cell on the island of Azkerban, off the northern coast of Scotland – an island hidden from mankind by the spells of the Ministry of Magic – brooding intensely.  In his heart one idea had permeated thoroughly – vengeance on the witch child Lucy Potter.  Having escaped his prison cell of Azkerban the old fashioned way, a way not thought to too closely monitor by his Ministry captors, simply by digging an escape tunnel with a metal spoon he had stolen from his dinner room, Lucifer had been sent by his brother Alexander Darvanius II to monitor Lucy and associate with Grimlock.

For reasons Lucifer knew not, Alexander feared the young witch – feared her greatly.  Lucifer had suggested they simply kill her and have done with it, but Alexander had recoiled greatly at the suggestion – alarmed almost.  No, it would simply be best if Lucifer worked under Grimlock’s authority, and that had meant eliminating Mr Merryweather, even if Lucy became aware of whom Lucifer was.  But the little witch had cast a ‘Relocate’ spell on him, without specifying a location and, now, he had been taken to the point such a spell had last been cast upon him, to his cell were the Ministry of Magic had sent him, through the same spell, to live.  And since then he had brooded.

He had a gut instinct that Alexander would get him out.  Most of the work Lucifer undertook for the family was, in a way, out of kicks.  He liked being the bad guy in the family – it suited him – and doing the dirty work was not a problem.  But, like Alexander, he had the long term goal in mind and as the ‘Western Alliance’ grew in power under his brother’s influence, and his father, Alexander Darvanius I completed his work in uniting Christendom, it would soon come one day in which is family, and the other head families of the Illuminati, ruled the world.  Yet for now he would have to patiently wait the freedom his brother Alexander would bring him.

*   *   *   *   *

‘Yes Lucy, she said yes.’  Lucy smiled, ever so happy at the good fortune of one of her mentors from the Ministry of Magic, Darren Merryweather.  Darren’s girlfriend in Sydney had said yes to Darren’s recent proposal, and was now in the process of arranging a permanent transfer down to Canberra in the national carpeting company she worked for.  Fortunately the company had been scratching around for a new area manager for the Canberra district, and Carol Davidson seemed the perfect choice, or so she’d told Darren that her supervisor’s had claimed.  They had set the date for early January 2023, just a year from then.  Lucy was pleased and delighted that Carol had said yes, and as Carol was planning on coming down to Cooma for a few weeks, Lucy looked forward to meeting her for the first time.

That day Lucy was with Darren at Alfric’s house in Deakin in Canberra.  They had been studying various textbooks on magic lore, and then Alfric had announced that, beginning 2023, if Lucy would accept the offer, she could begin studying under a Ministry sponsored scholarship at ‘Zeraxxus’, the school for wizards and witches in Sydney, hidden in the ‘Rocks’ area of Sydney.

Lucy had been overjoyed at the news and looked forward to telling Shelandragh and her mother when she got home.  Of course, her regular schooling could continue in either Cooma or Canberra, or even Sydney if she wanted to, but the magic school would run through the regular school terms holiday times, which would mean a very full year of study for young Miss Lucy Potter.

‘Well, dear young Lucy.  What have you learned today.’  Lucy, sitting at Alfric’s table, staring through the window, was lost in thought.  Darren looked at her, waved his hand, and said ‘Lucy’, but with no response.  He turned to Alfric.  ‘She must be off with the fairies.’

Lucy turned to Darren and said ‘Very funny’, at which Darren and Alfric smiled.  ‘I have learned lots of things,’ she responded.  ‘Another grand day of witchcraft.’

‘I only hope you are saying that when you are my age,’ replied Alfric.

‘How old are you anyway, master Alfric?’ queried Lucy.

Darren looked at Alfric, curious as well.  ‘A good question Lucy.  I wonder what the response will be.’

Alfric looked at both of them, sat down at the table, and took a drink from the glass of juice in front of him.  And then he began, ‘Age is not so important as you may presume, younglings.’

‘Younglings?’ queried Darren, slightly taken aback being called as such for a grown man.

‘Yes, younglings,’ continued Alfric.  ‘Yet as I was saying, despite my many years, which by modern comparisons are vast indeed, age is not everything.  It seems to me, from personal observation that wisdom – true wisdom – can lie in a soul at a bear 10 years of age, often vastly contrary to the wisdom which should be there for someone 100 times that age.’

‘Your not a thousand are you?’ asked Lucy earnestly.

‘I could only wish, young lady.  Nay, I am yet to reach my millennial year, but it beckons, as do the days of older age.  But I did know a man, once – a fierce wizard of a man – who had crossed the threshold of a thousand years, but by no means by the grace of love and life one would, or should expect, for such an accomplishment.  Yet Voldemort was not living, nor seemingly ever had done, for the pleasures of goodness towards his fellow mankind.  His long age, I fear, has been gained from the vampiric like soul-sucking of his wizard and witch victims.  For this dark lord sucks their very souls, killing them quickly, yet extending his own manifold.  For such is the evil of this foul lord.’

Lucy looked at Darren, who nodded to her.

‘This is Voldemort?  Who sent Lucifer?  Isn’t it?’

‘The one and the same, young Lucy.  Of course, Voldemort, while being an ancient evil, is not the one we should fear the most.  Believe my words when I tell you that, dear child.  You may have heard, these days, of a certain Alexander Darvanius.’  Darren nodded, ‘The great ecumenist.’

‘That is him, Darren.  Well, from my incantations and peering into the pool of knowledge, I have discerned a great evil associated with this man.  Not him, directly – I mean not him, personally – but associated with him.  Most definitely associated with this man.’

‘And what evil do we speak of, Alfric,’ queried Darren earnestly.

‘The most ancient of evils, Darren.  The most ancient.  The one spoken of in John’s Apocalypse.  The final child of wrath who will usher in the end of the age.  The one we of the west have feared for millennia now, whom is finally approaching.’

Lucy looked at them, a little familiar now with biblical concepts.  ‘Do you mean the Antichrist?  Like in the Omen?  I saw that two weeks ago with mum.  It was really scary.’  Alfric looked at her, and just nodded his head.

‘So we are living at the end?  The end of days?’

Alfric looked out the window for a moment, and then looked at Lucy.  ‘Jesus taught the church to know the time of the end, Lucy.  When things begin happening, like he taught, he encouraged the church to know that the end was at hand – and I fear, now, the end is at hand.’

‘Madalene is in the church,’ said Lucy innocently.  ‘But I have never been baptized.  Should I be baptized Alfric?’  Darren listened to that question with interest, as he had begun taking more of an interest himself in Christian religion, and had been considering the baptism question.  Alfric raised his hands apprehensively, ‘Of God and truth, and baptisms and covenants I cannot answer you Lucy.  I am aware that, by birth, you are under the covenant of the Rainbow – the covenant of our father Noah.’  Lucy looked at him squarely, and brightened.  ‘That is what Brigid’s brother Daniel goes on about.  The Noahide covenant.’  Alfric looked at her, curiousity piqued.

‘The NOAHIDE covenant,’ he queried, most interested.

‘Yes.  Noahide means child of Noah.  And Daniel is the head of a fellowship called ‘Haven Noahide Fellowship.’  Alfric looked at Darren.  ‘Do you know anything of this fellowship?  I am asking because, well, I am not strictly speaking a Christian, but have long abided by the Rainbow as the sign of our covenant with God.  It actually surprises me that a religion exists based on this covenant.’

‘I am not really sure about it myself, Alfric.  But I have met Daniel and will have words with him.  Perhaps you two could get together and have discussions on the subject.’  Alfric nodded, seemingly quite pleased to have gained this information.

Lucy got her bag and took out the Bible she had with her.  Finding the passage in Genesis which Daniel had shown her, she began reading:

‘And God blessed Noah and his sons. And he said to them: “Increase, and multiply, and fill the earth.
 And let the fear and trembling of you be upon all the animals of the earth, and upon all the birds of the air, along with all that moves across the earth. All the fish of the sea have been delivered into your hand.
And everything that moves and lives will be food for you. Just as with the edible plants, I have delivered them all to you,
 except that flesh with blood you shall not eat.
 For I will examine the blood of your lives at the hand of every beast. So also, at the hand of mankind, at the hand of each man and his brother, I will examine the life of mankind.
 Whoever will shed human blood, his blood will be poured out. For man was indeed made to the image of God.
 But as for you: increase and multiply, and go forth upon the earth and fulfill it.”
 To Noah and to his sons with him, God also said this:
“Behold, I will establish my covenant with you, and with your offspring after you,
and with every living soul that is with you: as much with the birds as with the cattle and all the animals of the earth that have gone forth from the ark, and with all the wild beasts of the earth.
I will establish my covenant with you, and no longer will all that is flesh be put to death by the waters of a great flood, and, henceforth, there will not be a great flood to utterly destroy the earth.”
And God said: “This is the sign of the pact that I grant between me and you, and to every living soul that is with you, for perpetual generations.
I will place my arc in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the pact between myself and the earth.
And when I obscure the sky with clouds, my arc will appear in the clouds.
And I will remember my covenant with you, and with every living soul that enlivens flesh. And there will no longer be waters from a great flood to wipe away all that is flesh.
 And the arc will be in the clouds, and I will see it, and I will remember the everlasting covenant that was enacted between God and every living soul of all that is flesh upon the earth.”
 And God said to Noah, “This will be the sign of the covenant that I have established between myself and all that is flesh upon the earth.’

She stopped reading, and then quoted the chapter and verse, ‘That was from Genesis 9, 1 to 17.’

Alfric nodded, familiar with the passage, but it was mostly new to Darren.

‘The Death penalty for murder, I see,’ said Darren.  ‘But I guess such was the era in which the text was written.’

‘Yes,’ nodded Alfric, although having a slightly different perspective on how important that principle of the covenant was.

‘So someone who follows this is a ‘Noahide’’, stated Lucy.  ‘I guess that makes me a Noahide then.’  Alfric looked at her, somewhat consoled at such a statement.  He put his hand affectionately on her shoulder,  ‘I guess it does dear Lucy.  I guess it does.’

They chatted on for a while longer, before Darren announced that the day’s lesson was finished, and that it was time to return home.

Driving back to Chakola, Lucy thought on the Rainbow.  Really, it was a nice sign to have for her covenant with God.  Perhaps, now that she had decided what her religion was, she could also speak with Daniel and look even more into what was apparently her religious birthright.  It would, she believed, prove a most enlightening experience.

Chapter Four

Grimlock, looking at the portal in front of him, eventually gave up.  ‘Bah.  A waste of time,’ he said to himself.  And while monitoring Lucy Potter from the viewing portal contained in the scar on Georgia Bridges forehead was allowable from time to time, mostly Georgia was pre-occupied with the simple things a girl her age was pre-occupied with.  Yet, in this task he had no great choice.  His master Alexander Darvanius II required this of him.  He was to monitor Lucy personally whenever he could, and when he could not do that, ensure he would check when and were young Georgia was in the witches company.

‘There will be useful – information,’ Alexander had once said, almost cryptically, and had thereupon insisted on Grimlock’s devotion to the task.  And so every night, from his habitation in Cooma, Grimlock surveyed Georgia’s activities, rarely bothering to listen, yet waiting for whatever adventures she had with her friend Lucy to gain any pertinent information were and when he could.

Yet tonight to no avail.  Georgia was at home in Canberra, currently in the bath with her brother Jayden, and they were acting their ages.  Nothing interesting for Grimlock to be concerned about.

Taking a seat on his lounge, he picked up a dark leather tome from his table next to him, opened it, but paid no close attention, lost in thought.  His master was looking for key information with Lucy – key information.  He had spoken, vaguely, to Grimlock that one day Lucy would confront himself and there would be an encounter which would decide destiny in a most strange way.  Unless Alexander was prepared for that encounter, and he felt only by close observation of Lucy could he know for sure how to be ready, that it would not go in his favour.  And so he had assigned Grimlock to monitor Lucy, and had arranged for the viewing gem, very tiny, to be placed in the scar in Georgia Bridges forehead.

For Grimlock, though, while he served his master faithfully, he was ultimately in it for the reward promised to him.  One day, so Alexander had said, they would rule the world – literally.  And in the new commonwealth of glory they would find themselves in, opportunities for positions of power and authority would abound.  It would, for Grimlock, be a most satisfying lifestyle, one in which he could exercise all of his most luxurious decadence.

And so, with that motivation, Grimlock served Alexander Darvanius II for the hoped reward that would one day, most certainly, be his.

*   *   *   *   *

‘Urrh.  Grrr.  Urrrgh.  Arrhg.  Bloakins Belt!’

Lucy, hearing the noise, queried the sprite as to what it was.

‘Oh that is just Theodox.  Look out – here comes now.’  And then, coming into view at the bend of the river where it turned eastward, the most foul looking of creatures, barely three feet tall, dressed in an ancient looking leather tunic, stumbled onwards, continuing to make the most abrasive of noises.  ‘Urrhg, horrr, grrr, drrrdd.  Bloakins Belt!’  From what Lucy could notice, the creature was looking downwards, perhaps in search of something.  When it finally arrived at where Lucy and the Sprite were sitting on the edge of the Newmerella River, it stopped, looked around the ground for a while, and then, grumbling, raised its head to look at them.  And then it spoke.

‘Grrr.  Bloakins Belt?  Grrr.’  Lucy was perplexed.  Just exactly what was Bloakins Belt?’  Minxy, though, seemed to know.  ‘So you have lost Bloakins Belt again, Theodox.  He must be most upset.  You know you really need to get your own when you want to go swimming to keep your togs on.

‘What is Bloakin’s Belt,’ asked Lucy innocently.

‘Bloakin is Theodox’s brother.  Trolls live in families and Theodox is in the habit of borrowing Bloakin’s belt to keep up his swimming togs when he wants to go swimming.  He loses the belt often, though.

‘Theodox is a troll!’ exclaimed Lucy.  Theodox looked at her, grumbled and said, ‘Grrr.  Bloakin’s belt?’  Minxy responded.

‘It is alright Theodox.  This is Lucy Potter.  She and I will help you find your brother’s belt.  Come on Lucy – it must be along the river somewere.’  Lucy gave the troll one last cautious look, and joined in with Minxy to scout the riverbank in search of Bloakin’s missing Belt.  Minxy went on to relate that a family of trolls lived not far upstream, and that swimming in the river was often a pastime they engaged in.  ‘But they rarely come down this far, Lucy.  Probably why you haven’t seen Theodox before.  Oh, and he is magical, so the others probably won’t be able to see him unless he allows it.’  Lucy nodded, having grown a little more comfortable around Theodox, who genuinely seemed quite harmless.

Eventually Lucy, finding a leather belt lying on the riverbank just 100 metres downstream, yelled to Minxy and Theodox.  Theodox grabbed them in the manner of trolls, delighted to find his brothers belt.  ‘Grrrr.  Grrrr.  Bloakin’s Belt!’, he exclaimed, ever so happy.  And then, much to Lucy’s shock, gave her a hug.  Lucy was nervous at first, but reassured by Minxy’s encouragements, placed her arms around Theodox.  ‘It is alright Theodox.  You now have Bloakin’s belt.’  Theodox pulled away from her, and did a little jig in front of her, celebrating the finding of Bloakin’s belt.  And then, putting up his hand in a farewell gesture, started making his way back upstream.  Lucy and Minxy gradually walked back to the crossing and watched as Theodox turned the bend and disappeared out of sight.

‘A Troll!’ exclaimed Lucy.  ‘Whatever fantastic creature could possibly come next.’

*   *   *   *   *

The ride was thrilling – as exciting as any adventure Lucy had been upon.  Seated upon the back of Silver, with Jayden on the back of Goldie, the two of them were flying over near Numerella, following the river to the place they intended to go for a swim, just east of Numerella village about 5 kilometres.  Jayden motioned for Goldie too once again skim down and fly his feet along the water, upon which Jayden lowered his feet also and let out a huge ‘awesome.’  Lucy just laughed.

When they spotted their destination, Lucy yelled for Jayden to land, and the two wyverns came down and settled on a rocky beach of the river, just near were the water gushed down in a tiny waterfall of a metre high, were at the bottom the water gurgled furiously.

Taking off their T-Shirts, Lucy was dressed in a bikini and Jayden in just his board shorts.  Jayden took a sip from his drink bottle and Lucy put on some sunscreen – another layer – just to be safe.  It was so hot in Summer.  She looked across the river to where the opposing hill face, all rugged, ran up to the top of the hill.  It was a steep climb opposite them, but it had been climbed by those in the family in earlier years.

‘Shall we climb that later?’ Lucy asked Jayden, pointing to the steep incline.  ‘Sure.  But after we sunbake, ok.’

‘Ok.’

The two of them, with the wyverns watching intently, made their way to the river were the tiny waterfall rushed into the gurgling basin.  They climbed in, and both of them came and stationed themselves beneath the rushing water.  Jayden turned his face up to the water a few times, and they had great fun feeling the water as it rushed over them.

They stayed in that section for around 20 minutes, before making their way over to the deeper lagoon section, were they swam for another half an hour.  Eventually they came to the set of large rocks which seemingly had been made for sunbaking, and rested, both facing downwards.

Lucy listened intently to the sound of the Australian bush, and loved the feeling of the sun soaking into her flesh.  Really, she was in bliss.  They laid there for around half an hour, before Jayden stirred.  ‘Shall we still climb that hill?’ he asked.

‘Yeh, ok,’ said Lucy.  They put their shoes back on and carefully made their way, jumping over the river rocks, to the opposite side of the river, and stared upwards.  It would be a challenging climb, but they felt safe enough, despite the warning from David not to climb the hill.

Halfway up the incline Lucy looked over the outskirts of the river to the east and the west.  It was a tremendous sight to behold and nature seemed to come alive from were she was clinging on.  They pushed on and in a few minutes made the top of the incline.  Before them was mostly more bush and trees, Canberra about 100 kilometres to the north of them approximately, being roughly level with Cooma on latitude.

They walked around for a while, noticed an old campfire were some broken beer bottles were sitting, and looked over the river from their high up view point.

‘This is cool,’ said Jayden, and Lucy could only but agree.  Eventually they came down, and after crossing the river, returning to the wyverns who had been eating grass, Jayden suggested they fly a little further to the east just to see what lay beyond.  However Lucy said the day was starting to get on a bit, and they wyverns would probably tire out, so they agreed to travel on home.

As they flew, following the river, heading for home, Lucy thought just how lucky she was to be able to fly on the back of a young wyvern.  Of course, very soon she would be learning to fly on a traditional broomstick – and while that would be so very exciting, it just didn’t seem to have the excitement of riding on the back of a dragon.

They made home in an hour, after stopping once for Jayden to go to the toilet, and they wyverns settled into their paddock in Chakola, just to the north of the school-house home of Lucy’s.

After dinner, and when Jayden left with David for Canberra, Lucy sat watching TV thinking on life.  So much had happened in the past few months, and now the new school year was about to begin with her mother having now enrolled her for the first time after home-schooling her in her younger years.  It would be an exciting time indeed for young Miss Lucy Potter.

*   *   *   *   *

Lucy sat obediently in the front row, were her desk was located.  She was in Mr Jones class, in year 5J, at St Patrick’s Primary school in Cooma.  That morning she had gotten to know a few of the girls in year 5, being shown around by the teacher, and now classes had begun.  The students generally knew Lucy was a witch in training as the incident late last year had not been forgotten, despite the best efforts of Alfric and the Ministry to try and play down the incident, not wishing magic and magic creatures to become general knowledge in the community, a worldwide attitude of the Ministry of Magic.

After they had done some basic English lessons on grammar, which Lucy found incredibly easy with her mothers strict tutoring, the class was given some free time to do some colouring in, funnily enough of a stencil of a witch and a cauldron, given to the whole class.  Some of the girls giggled, whispering to Lucy that she should be good at this.  But such was the nature of children.

Lucy spent an hour working on her picture, after which little lunch was called, and Mr Jones marched the class out to the playground were the rest of the school had gathered and little lunch began.  They had to eat their meal first, and then a second bell went off indicating their playtime.

‘So you’re the witch, huh?’ said a young redheaded lad to Lucy, who was sitting on her own at the edge of the playground, reading one of her books on magic.  Lucy looked at the kid.  He had very bright red hair, was average size, a little overweight.  She was not sure if he was a popular kid or not, but was not really worried about that issue.  ‘Yes, I am a witch,’ responded Lucy.  ‘Wow,’ said the boy.  ‘That is amazing.  My name is Michael.  Michael Bradley.’  Lucy nodded, responding, ‘It is nice to meet you Michael Bradley.’

‘What are you reading,’ asked Michael.  Lucy showed the cover of the book to him.  ‘It is a book on spells.  My teacher, Shelandragh, gave it to me to study.  It is part of my curriculum for this years study.’

‘So it pretty serious, huh.  Witchcraft I mean.’

‘Yes, quite serious.  It really makes you grow up but.’

‘Amazing,’ said Michael again.  ‘Can I have a look at the book.’

‘Well, ok,’ said Lucy.

Michael came over and sat next to her and Lucy handed the book to him to let him look through.  Michael looked at the first spell in the book, and began reading the words.  The spell was a basic fire spell, for lighting fires.  After he had spoken the words, Lucy was amazed at seeing a few sparks come off his fingers.  Michael jumped back, shocked.

‘Wow,’ said Lucy.  ‘You must have reservoirs of magical spirit energy.  You could possibly be a young warlock.’

Michael held his fingers up to his face, and looked at them cautiously.  ‘A warlock?  What is that?’

‘Like a male witch, or a wizard.’

‘Oh,’ said Michael, still a little shocked.

They talked for the rest of little lunch, and Lucy suggested that Michael might like to meet Shelandragh.  ‘Perhaps you could have lessons as well, Michael.’

‘Yeh, perhaps,’ said Michael, who was not to sure.

Over the next few weeks at school Lucy didn’t really make any other friends, but Michael sat with her every little lunch and at lunchtime, and spent time with her after school before her mother picked her up.  After 3 weeks Michael told Lucy that he had spoken to his mother about Lucy and Shelandragh and his mother had said it would be ok for Michael to visit Lucy and Shelandragh this weekend if he wanted to.  Lucy was naturally excited, and looked forward to seeing her new best friend on the weekend.

Chapter Five

‘Yes Lucy.  It does appear as if Michael is gifted in the arts.  He seems to have some point in his life, perhaps instinctively, built up his own personal reservoirs of magical energy and used it by nature when speaking the words to the spell you told me about.  I have spent all afternoon with him, going through some of the more introductory lessons on witchcraft, and the young lad is definitely of the craft – he has natural talent.’

Lucy smiled; ever so pleased at the news Shelandragh was sharing with her.  It would make her new life at St Patrick’s so much more pleasant to be able to – hopefully – have someone to talk to about her magical craft.

‘Mind you, he is new.  And if his parents decide they want his gift nurturing, he will need a lot of encouragement and guidance.  And I think, if they do, you may be able to provide that encouragement.’

Lucy nodded, pleased at being given responsibility at such a young age.

‘Do you think Michael’s parents will allow him to have lessons?’

‘It is hard to say.  They may be religious, sending him to Catholic school, and religious people often have concerns about witchcraft.  But leave it with me.  I will talk to his mother when she gets back and we will see.  But remember what I always tell you – don’t count your chickens.’

‘Before their hatched,’ finished Lucy.  ‘Yes I remember, Shelandragh.’

‘Very good.  Now why don’t you go and play outside with Michael.  I am sure he has been looking forward to some play time with you.’

Lucy got up, ran to the kitchen were Michael was sitting watching TV and drinking a soft drink, and dragged him out to the back yard.

From the kitchen Shelandragh watched her pupil and her potential new pupil.  Of course, she had a few other students besides Lucy in the Cooma region, from which she gained a small income going alongside the pension she had earned from work in earlier years.  In her long years of life – far longer than most others – Shelandragh had acquired a large fortune, and had a number of overseas bank accounts with strong interest rates which she maintained for any potential future need.  Really, if she chose, she could have lived a far greater quality of life in a far more beautiful and pleasant house, with servants and all the accoutrements of a grand life.  Yet her heart was for magic, and those in the craft which life brought to her.  It was for children like Lucy, and possibly even the new Michael Bradley, that Shelandragh devoted to herself, believing in her heart she served some sort of higher purpose in the work she was involved with.  Like the head of the Ministry of Magic, Shelandragh held to something akin to the Noahide faith.  While she had been baptized at a few months old, which had been the practice all those years ago, she had foregone strong church attendance long ago, and drifted from mainstream Christian faith – so much so that she no longer felt comfortable identifying as a Anglican Christian.

But she kept faith in God, having her own understanding of what religion ought to be about, favouring love and mercy rather than any strict devotion to a set of rules.  This, of course, seemed necessary with her practice of witchcraft, yet in truth she felt that, perhaps, the wizards and witches of the days of Moses were not quite like herself.  True, like them she practiced magic.  Yet from what she had read of biblical literature on the subject, the wizards and witches of those days were devoted to demonic idols, and often had ill intent in the practice of their wizardry.  So, she assured many who often had questions on the subject, white witches of today were simply not like that and, as such, the practice of their craft was quite acceptable.  There were, of course, numerous darker witches, whose spellcasting was not always for the benefit of all.  But many of these were not really evil – not in the traditional sense anyway – but more of the darker side of life.  Yet, also, there were the children of the devil, whose dark practices she had not escaped unscathed from herself.  Voldemort she feared the most, but the new evil which Alfric spoke to her of worried her greatly.  The great and final dark lord, the dreaded Antichrist.  God forbid that either herself or Lucy should ever find themselves entangled with such a one.  God forbid.

With the kettle boiled, Shelandragh poured the hot water into the teapot, and covered it to simmer.  She sat their, gazing at the children, occasionally wondering why she really never had any of her own, and just hummed quietly to herself.  It was a pleasant and happy afternoon.  One of many which the good lord had blessed his beloved daughter, Shelandragh May, with.

*   *   *   *   *

As the year passed, coming to its conclusion, Lucy spent much of the time with Michael at weekends, whose parent’s had consented to his lessons.  Like Lucy, he showed promise in the arts, and Shelandragh had her hands full answering all of his many questions.

When the school year concluded just before Christmas, Lucy was excited and looking forward to her first year at Zeraxxus, the school of witchcraft and wizardry she had been sponsored by the Ministry to attend during summer holidays, having gained permission from her mother Caroline to attend.

On January the second 2023 AD (or 5993 Since Creation (SC) in the Taheb’s calendar), travelling by train to Sydney with her mother Caroline, Lucy was glancing out the window of the train for most of the trip.  Darren had dropped them off at the train station, telling Lucy he would visit her at the school in a couple of weeks and encouraging her to try to make new friends in her first year at Zeraxxus.

The school was the oldest seat of regulated witchcraft and wizardry in Australia, nearly as old as the country itself, having been established in Sydney’s early years.  They had moved a few times, finding their present location in the late 1890s, having not moved since.  When Lucy arrived late in the afternoon of the second of January, she gazed up at the two story building, situated in Randwick in Sydney, amongst a grouping of other similar looking homes.  From what Alfric had shared with her, the school was housed in 3 adjacent homes, having been purchased, and the brick walls between them having been eradicated to make way for new doorways.  There were rooms for up to students at any one time, with most sharing a room.  Lucy had been paired up with another young witch around her age, a certain Belinda Jamieson.

Coming to the front door of the school, Caroline encouraged Lucy to knock on the door or to push the buzzer.  Lucy looked at the gargoyle with the buzzer on it, but decided to try the rather foreboding looking doorhandle instead.  She gave three loud knocks on the heavy knocker, and they patiently waited.  After a few moments the door opened, and what appeared to be a student, a male around 16 or so, greeted them and let them in.  ‘Hello, I’m Mark.  Mark Ash.  I’m a student here.  I’ll go get someone, ok.  If you just wait in the waiting room here, I’ll get someone.’  Caroline and Lucy followed Mark into the adjoining waiting room, and sat on comfortable lounged waiting for who they knew not.

Lucy looked around the room.  A television was playing, noise right down, situated below the front window.  There was a fireplace against one wall, and a grandfather clock against the other.  They were seated near the entrance to the room, Caroline having picked up a magazine and leafing through it.  Lucy stood and walked over to the mantelpiece surrounding the fireplace, and picked up one of the bronze soldier figures to look at it.  ‘Careful Lucy.  Don’t drop it.  It probably costs a fortune.’  Lucy looked it over and then carefully put it back on the mantelpiece.  There were other assortments on the mantelpiece, and at the end a number of what appeared to be Spell-books, which Lucy was instantly drawn to.  Looking through them, she picked an appropriate volume and set back down to look at it.  No sooner had she sat down than Mark Ash returned.  He turned to Caroline.  ‘Are you Caroline Potter?’

‘Yes that is I,’ responded Caroline.

‘Good.  Well, you can leave if you want.  I will look after Lucy and show her to her room.  The elders have decided that they would rather not introduce themselves to you personally as it is mainly policy to see the students alone – privacy reasons to do with magic, if you know what I mean.’

Caroline nodded, not unfamiliar with such goings on.

‘Very well then.’  She turned to Lucy, who had returned to looking at the Spell-book.  ‘Well, daughter of mine.  This is it.  Remember, you are a Potter.  You are my daughter, and your father would be oh so proud of you today.  Do your best and always remember I love you.’

Lucy smiled up at her mother.  Caroline gave her one last hug, and followed Mark to the door.  Outside on the pavement Caroline looked at Lucy through the window, gave her one last wave, and hailed a taxi which had magically shown up.  Lucy watched the taxi leave and thought to herself, ‘Well, here we go.’

*   *   *   *   *

Walking alongside Mark Ash climbing the stairs, Lucy decided to ask him some questions.  ‘Well, Mark.  How many boy and girl students will there be this year.’

Mark looked at her, and pointed out one of the loose steps.  ‘Mind that one Lucy.  Old Peter cast a temporary spell so it wouldn’t come loose, but we really need to nail it down or get it fixed professionally.  Yet he never has the time, so he says.  Anyway, we have 5 boys and 5 girls to answer your question.  Each of the girls and boys are 2 years apart, going from the youngest girl, yourself, at eleven, to Narelle at 19 this year.  And the boys ages are roughly the same.  Our school is the most prestigious in all of Sydney, but believe me it is very old fashioned.  Almost the ‘establishment’ of wizard schools in Australia, if you know what I mean.’  Lucy nodded, vaguely familiar with the idea.  ‘So there are other schools in Sydney?’ Lucy asked Mark, who was knocking at a door at the top of the stairs.  ‘Yes Lucy.  Many, actually.  I would have personally rather have gone to one of the new modern ones – they teach a lot of edgier spells, and even talk about the darker side of magic from time to time.  And some of the teachers are really cool – first class witches and warlocks, totally wicked, if you know what I mean.’

‘Sounds awesome,’ said Lucy.  Just then the door opened, and Mark urged Lucy to go inside.   ‘I will get your bags, Lucy, and take them to your room.  Peter will show you to your room after introductions.  Ok go on in.  Its ok.’

Lucy smiled at Mark nervously, who was retreating down the stairs, and peered into the room.

The room of Peter Daley, head wizard and headmaster of Zeraxxus school of wizards and witches, was crammed with, perhaps, every major magic book known to the magical community.  There were literally thousands of them crammed along three walls of bookcases going up to the ceiling, and many in piles all over the floor.

Just then a voice spoke.  ‘Come in.  Come in fair maiden.’  Coming out from behind a desk were, presumably, he had been engaged in his craft, old Peter Daley came out to greet Lucy, giving her a friendly hug, and placing an affectionate hand on her shoulder.  ‘Greetings young Lucy.  Greetings.  I have heard from Alfric so much about you.  He says you are a great child of promise indeed.  Perhaps one to be on the board of the Ministry one day in the future.  I myself am an honorary member on the board of the Ministry, but take no real part in its every day functioning.  I mainly correspond with Alfric in Canberra to keep up to date with affairs in the world of witchcraft.’  He motioned for Lucy to take a seat next to the small table near the burning fireplace, and resumed his chatter.  ‘Well Lucy.  In choosing to come to Zeraxxus you have chosen to come to a fine institution indeed.  As you may know, we are the most established of such a school in Australia.  Oh, there are many new modern ones – especially ones aiming to cater to the new trends.  Unwholesome trends, mind you.  Far too much dabbling in the darker side of wizardry goes on I fear in some of the newer schools.’

Lucy spoke up.  ‘Yes, Mark was saying that as well.’

‘Mmm.  Well it is not really anything for you to concern yourself with.  Oh, you will probably meet some wizards and witches from some of the other schools in your time here at Zeraxxus but, if you pay attention to your lessons, I am sure you will see for yourself the vast difference in not only the quality, but the type of education we offer in comparison.  And I do stress the word ‘type’ dear young Lucy.’

‘I am sure I will,’ responded Lucy confidently.

‘Well, your first lessons begin on Monday.  We have 4 weeks of solid magic ahead of us, in which you will be reintroduced to many of the lessons you would have learned already, especially in the first week, before we go more in depth in week 3 and week 4 before your final exam.  Let me stress something to you about Zeraxxus.  If we accept a student it is because they have been thoroughly sounded out already.  As such passing the exams will not prove that difficult to you, as you will find your own magical abilities quite competent already in this respect, and I am sure you will handle the theory component from reports I have heard.  Essentially, even more than imparting knowledge to our students, we aim to impart one very important thing -  an attitude.  Believe me Lucy, many wizards and witches can do extraordinary things with their craft – but to gain respect in our craft, maturity of mind – knowing when to use the craft and when not to – is the general rule of thumb in when to gain respect.  In this sense it is more important to know why you are using magic, rather than how powerful your spell can be.  You see Lucy, we teach ‘quality’ of magic, here at Zeraxxus.  Quality as opposed to quantity.  As an example, one spell, carefully chosen, may solve your situation, rather than a hundred mis-chosen spells.  So I stress to you, young Lucy.  Seek excellence.  Seek quality.  It is not, so much, what you do my dear young pupil, but how you do it.’

Lucy nodded, familiar with such teaching from Shelandragh.  Peter resumed.

‘Well, we have 5 teachers here at Zeraxxus. 4 fulltime, 3 of them witches, and 1 warlock, and myself.  Yet you will not see me teach very often.  However I will be testing you for your finals, so best be prepared.  Your keep has all been paid for by the scholarship, and you will be given a small allowance for weekend ventures with your classmates.  Until you are 15 you will not be allowed out without someone at least of that age present with you, and that is a strict rule.  But as long as someone who is at least 15 is present you may leave at will.  At 15 we deem our students responsible enough to manage their own affairs to a degree.  You will be boarding with Belinda Jamieson, who arrives later on tonight from Brisbane.  You will be given some textbooks tomorrow morning, but tonight I will show you to your room and you can find your way down to the main meal room yourself.  It is in the adjoining building, just through the open doorways downstairs on the ground level.  You can’t miss is.  Your room is just below us, facing the backyard.  It is a very pleasant room, specially suited for girls, and I am sure you will find yourself enjoying your stay here.  Alright then, dear Lucy.  Any questions?’

Lucy thought on it.  ‘No thank you.’

‘Very well then.  Follow me.’

Peter made his way out of the room, and proceeded down the stairway, Lucy following him.  He showed her to her room, which contained two beds, a large set of cupboards, two study desks, and a small television and stereo.

‘I know young people love their music, but try to keep it low alright.  On weekends before evening you can have it quite loud during the day, but not during weekdays which is for your studies.’  Lucy nodded, understanding the rule.

‘The bathroom is just upstairs, opposite my room.  You will find it very easily.  The school rooms are in the centre building.  We have one large main room, were a number of students may be studying at any one time, and two other private chambers upstairs for one on one mentoring and teaching.  The library is also in the centre building.  The other end building is were the boys reside.  And there is a living room in the centre building downstairs were everyone can relax.’  Peter pointed to the cupboard. ‘I dare say you have brought much of your own linen, but everything you need can be found in there, including towels if you would like to shower.’  Lucy looked at the cupboard, taking that information in.

‘I suggest you have a shower, get changed, and go introduce yourself to some of the other students.  I am sure they will love getting to know you.  And they are all friendly, young Lucy.  You will feel right at home.’  Peter looked the room over, and, seemingly satisfied, started out of the room.  Holding the door open he spoke some final words.  ‘Remember Lucy, you are most welcome here.  But remember, you are here to study and learn.  It is still what a school is all about.  Well, I will be in my room if you need me.  But I think you can find your way around.  And don’t be too shy.’  He gave her a final wink, and left.

Lucy sat down on the bed, next to her bags which Mark had placed on her bed.  ‘This should be interesting,’ she thought to herself.

Chapter Six

The full role call of students at Zeraxxus school of wizardry and witchcraft, alternatively known as the Zeraxxus school of witchcraft and wizardry, neither sex being given the premiere position in the name of the school, consisted of 5 boys ranging from 11 to 19, and 5 girls ranging from 11 to 19.  The boys were, Jason Peabody at 11, Frederick Turner at 14, Thomas Armstrong at 15, Mark Ash at 17 and Ken Chiu at 19.  The girls were Lucy Potter at 11, Genevieve Dupre at 13, Belinda Jamieson at 15, Nancy Carter at 17 and Narelle Kurston at 19.

At dinner that night Lucy met 8 of them, and later on as the evening was passing, hanging out with her new school-friends in the common room watching television, her room-mate Belinda Jamieson showed up, with Ken Chiu due to arrive in the morning.

Mark introduced Lucy to the gang, but it was Genevieve, just a little older than her, with a faint French accent, who befriended her quite quickly, smuggling her into her room after Belinda had shown up.  Genevieve shared her room with Nancy Carter, who remained in the common room with the others.

Genevieve quizzed Lucy for over an hour, asking all sorts of questions about her and were she had come from.  Lucy, in turn, softly asked Genevieve about her own life, learning the girl had emigrated from France with her family when Genevieve was 7, coming to live in Sydney in the western suburbs, her father gaining work in central Sydney in Parramatta with his French firm’s Australian outfit.  Genevieve, like Lucy, was an only child, having been shown talented at the craft from an early encounter with French Gypsies.  When they arrived in Australia, Genevieve’s mother had made careful inquiries about the magic scene in Australia, learning of Zeraxxus and deciding to send Genevieve there when she turned 11.

This was Genevieve’s third Summer at the school, and she dutifully informed Lucy that the school’s posh reputation was truly well deserved, and that Lucy was in the upper class of witchery because of it.  Lucy herself, despite the fact that such a distinction in class seemed suitable to her new friend, was simply grateful to be taught in such a quality establishment.  The reality of the class system, which her mother had often commented was stronger in England, was less noticeable in egalitarian Australia.  Yet for the private schools there was still an edge of the old world’s attitudes.

‘So tell me Lucy.  Do you have a boyfriend.  Have you had your first kiss?’

Lucy, having gotten more used to the idea of the birds and the bees from her conversations with Minxy the Sprite of Chakola, still blushed a little, yet to receive her first kiss.

‘Maybe young Jason.  He might be the first for you, oui?’

Lucy just rolled her eyes and looked the other way.

‘Oh, so you are shy are you?  That does not surprise me.  English girls are always shy from my experience.’

‘Well I am Aussie as well, you know,’ responded Lucy.  ‘I became a citizen this year.’

‘Oh, no, you are definitely English.  You have all their mannerisms.  Believe me, I have noticed.  It comes with you when you are born, you know.  Like your birthright.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Anyway, perhaps Jason is for you, or perhaps not.  I think this Jayden you speak of may be the first for you.  He sounds ideal.’

‘Jayden.  God no.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love him like a brother.  It’s just that that is really it.  He is more of a brother to me.  I don’t think it could really ever be anything more than that.’

‘Oh well.  I guess you know best.  Still you have your whole life ahead of you.  You will find someone.  You are quite pretty, for an English girl.  You will find a man.’

‘Thank you Genevieve,’ replied Lucy, who was starting to sense a bit of an attitude in her French friend, perhaps not surprising given some of the things she had already said.  ‘Well, I don’t know if I should ask, but have you had your first kiss.’

‘Oh yes,’ replied Genevieve, but said nothing more.  Lucy looked at her intently, but Genevieve simply zipped her lips with her hand in response.

‘So I guess you know the other students quite well by now,’ continued Lucy.

‘Oh, Jason is new, as yourself.  But yes, I know all of the others.  They have been here for the past three years since I have been attending.  I am sure you will get to know them and love them, as I do.  Ken, who will be hear tomorrow, is very noble.  Very respectful and polite in what he says and does.  Very excellent mannerisms for a Chinese Australian.’

‘I suppose that is their culture, though,’ responded Lucy, used to such attitudes from Asian students she went to school with.  ‘Indeed it is, Lucy.  So unlike Aussies in comparison.  Most of them are such an uncultured people, you know.  So rude and aggressive.’

Lucy nodded, now quite used to the brazen language which many Aussie males talked with, especially Barry and David from time to time.  Yet she knew they had a softer side as well, and that such a thing was mostly cultural as her mother often reminded her.

‘I supposes the French are the masters of culture, hey Genevieve?’

‘Oh, the English are very cultured as well.  While we French are the people of love, which our language speaks so very well, English people are so very, how can I put it, ‘Traditional’, in how they present themselves.  A very ‘Straight laced’ people, the English.  In a good way, I mean.  Honest, not difficult to understand.  Straightforward, if you know what I mean.  Very European in their own ways, even if slightly set apart.

Lucy nodded, finding Genevieve’s sociological observations quite entertaining, wondering to herself if much of this was Genevieve’s parents talk rather than their precocious daughter’s.

‘Do you want to go back to France?  One day I mean?’

‘Oh indeed,’ replied Genevieve.  ‘Once I have finished my training here at Zeraxxus and perhaps finished a degree at the University of Sydney, I will quite possibly move home to France to find work and love.  I know my parent’s have fallen in love with Sydney and the Australian climate, but I miss home.  I do.  Australia is not ultimately for me, I fear.’

‘I will be sorry to see you go.’

‘Oh thank you madame-moiselle.  How very thoughtful of you.’

They chatted on a while longer, before Belinda came in to see when Lucy wanted to go to bed.  ‘I’ll be there shortly, Belinda.  I won’t be long.’  Belinda nodded.  ‘Well Genevieve, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.  Perhaps you can show me around some more.’

‘Oh, I think you have seen the place already.  But I will give you the official tour if you like.’

Lucy smiled, and left for her own room.

Unlike Genevieve, Belinda was more down-to-earth and easy to relate to than her new French friend.  Belinda explained the basic house rules, and encouraged Lucy to follow them.  ‘Oh don’t mind loud music on the weekends, as the rules allow that, but try to keep it quiet the rest of the time, ok.  I work hard at my studies and need quiet time to concentrate.’

‘Ok Belinda.  That won’t be a problem with me.’

‘We should get along fine, you know.  We might be room-mates again next year, so best we get along.  And you can call me Lindey if you like.  It is what I am usually known as.’

‘Alright Lindey.’

‘Good.  Well, I am quite tired as it has been a long flight.  Have you had a shower?’

‘I had one just after I arrived.’

‘Ok.  Well I will have one shortly, then I would like to get some sleep if you don’t mind.  But we can chat in the morning.’

Lindey excused herself after a while, and Lucy took the opportunity to get into her night garments.

Later on, as Lindey was snoring softly, Lucy stared at the ceiling.  She found, often, staying at a new place was like a refreshing experience – something new which she seemed to instinctively drew new feelings from.  And this place already felt like home.  She was sure, certain really, that she would be right at home within a week.  It certainly seemed like the right decision for her to have made.

*   *   *   *   *

Two weeks into her studies, half way through, Darren Merryweather and his fiancé Carol Davidson came to Zeraxxus to visit Lucy.  Lucy gushed out all the new things she had been learning.

‘In the first week we went over some of the spells I already knew, as well as being introduced to the basic principles of magic and magic energy creation.  It is what I learned early last year with Shelandragh.  And then we started learning in the second week more on the ethical usage of magic and when it is the right time to use magic and when not, and the more appropriate spells to use in a given situation.  We also learnt about Animistic Spiritology which I found very interesting.’

‘Yes, they teach that here I have heard,’ commented Darren in response.  ‘A more recent understanding in the wizarding community to become more official than it was in the past.  Seemingly accepted as fact now, rather than as superstition it was once held with.  But it ties directly into the field of spell creation, something which witches had often wondered were the power came from to form their spells.  You see it worked intuitively to begin with, but now we are gaining a better understanding.’

‘That’s right Darren,’ said Lucy in response.  ‘That is exactly what my teachers are saying.’

‘And how are you finding your teachers?  How are they compared to Shelandragh.’

‘Oh, they are as wonderful as Shelandragh.  Miss Modafferi is so knowledgeable in how traditional herbs and minerals and things integrate with spell energy.  While a lot of the time we draw the energy for spell creation form our own auras,’ said Lucy, putting her hands up around her head as if to indicate an aura, ‘Common herbs and minerals and things can be used to draw energy from as well.  The magical ingredients have special energy fields of their own which are used in spell energy creation.’

‘Yes, I understand the theory,’ replied Darren.  ‘It is similar to much of what I was taught at magic school as well.  But a bit more advanced these days it would seem.’

‘Were did you go to magic school anyway, Darren?’

‘A few different places, actually.  I had lessons with both Shelandragh and Alfric growing up, and spent one year hear at Zeraxxus, before going to a school in Sydney’s southern suburbs.  A more modern school.’

‘Oh,’ said Lucy, thinking on what she had heard about some of the more modern schools.

‘Peter says some of the modern schools have an edgier look at the dark side of magic these days.  Was it like that when you attended.’

‘In truth, it was beginning to go that way.  The school was still quite traditional, but was starting to look at ways of broadening its appeal to the emerging marketplace.  Yet, fortunately, for those used to the traditional methodologies, Zeraxxus, much like Hogwarts in England, follows the traditional teaching methods.’

‘I think that is what is probably best suited to me,’ said Lucy in response.

‘Yes, I think so to, Lucy.  But I fear that you are still young and that some of the other schools may appeal to you later on in life.  So be careful in your life choices, young Miss Potter – I encourage you on that.

Later that afternoon Lucy, Genevieve, Carol and Darren were at a nearby Ice Cream parlour, going through its various flavours at Darren’s expense.  Lucy, while she had missed home, had found a new exciting home with the students of Zeraxxus and would be sorry to leave them.  Having Darren show up for the day was still a pleasant surprise, but she was sure she would see him soon enough when she returned home.  Lucy knew Darren worked for the Ministry of Magic, as an associate member of the board, actively involved in monitoring or policing the work of the wizards and witches in the Australian community.  Technically, the Prime Minister was aware of the work of the Ministry in this policing effort, although he never made such information publicly available.  The Ministry received a small stipend from the government to ensure that magic practices never got out of hand, and Darren was one of the key workers involved in that activity.

Lucy understood that she herself was being groomed for work one day, perhaps in a similar role to what Darren undertook.  From the words Darren had commented to her, working for the Ministry in his work needed the right type of person.  Not just a wizard or witch talented at the craft – but an upright, honest and decent person – someone with integrity and a sense of ethics, morals and even spiritual awareness.  There were other, almost intangible qualities they looked for – but Lucy had been told often enough that she seemed to fit the bill for what they were looking for in the future and, if not already, seemed to have decided that if she could gain acceptance into a position like Darren’s, then that is what she would aim for in life.  Naturally she would persevere with her civil schooling, but ultimately being a witch is what Lucy Potter found herself, perhaps irrevocably, destined for.

*   *   *   *   *

Like so many other things in life, good things come to an end, and Lucy passed her exams with very high grades, something old Peter commented on.  Before leaving, though, Peter spoke to Lucy on a number of things, especially an ancient Gem which had been lost in the school somewhere over a hundred years ago by a visiting wizard from England.  Known as the ‘Zaxxon’ Ruby, which rumour had it contained magical powers, Peter set a task to each returning student to see if they could find the Ruby the following year.

‘Believe me Lucy, many a student has been through my entire bookcases on a many an occasion to no avail.  I feel, perhaps, if it is still hidden here it is waiting for the right person to find it.  Maybe that will be you, dear young Miss Potter.  Maybe that will be you.’

Lucy smiled, ever so hopeful for the following year.

When her mother arrived, she greeted her with a big warm kiss and hug, and farewelled her friends.  It had been an eventful four weeks, and she now looked forward to getting back to Chakola and catching up with Madalene, Jayden, Georgia and Michael.

Chapter Seven

In a cell in Azkerban, unknown to his jailers, with the aide of a solitary metal spoon with which he had been digging passionately for 12 months, with the aide of the meagre sparks of spiritual energy he could muster given the magic dampeners in the room, Lucifer Malfoy had finally managed to dig through the metres of rock to the outskirts of the jail.  They were fools, he believed.  His hosts were fools, for they gave him his food under the door which never opened, yet never checked his cell.  And due to this mistake on his captors part, Lucifer had dug.  And now he was free.

Coming to the edge of the island, escaping through the woods, he knew he had time.  But he needed it not.  In a few hours he would have recharged his energy and would cast the relocate spell to his brother’s location in New York.  And one thing screamed furiously in the mind of Lucifer Malfoy – Vengeance on the girl Lucy Potter.

*   *   *   *   *

While Michael Bradley had continued with lessons with Shelandragh in Lucy’s absence, his parent’s had come to the conclusion that such lessons were not for their son, and had withdrawn him from Shelandragh’s tutelage.  Still, all year 6 that year Lucy spent most of her time with Michael, sharing with him her own knowledge and helping him to develop his own talent.  While his parent’s had not strictly forbidden him to practice witchcraft, they had made it known it was not what they truly wanted for their son, despite the way it had started becoming popular in recent years.  So, while they had withdrawn Michael from lessons, Lucy was allowed to share her own gifts with him.

As the year approached its ending, Mr Grimlock spent a Saturday visiting Lucy at her Chakola school-house home.  Lucy found him quite odd on this occasion, wondering if it was just him finding the magical climate of Chakola uncomfortable for some reason, seeing as he had rarely been like this at Shelandragh’s were she usually met him, or in his store in Cooma, to which she now visited practically every day after school whenever she could.

Darren had advised her to be cautious about Mr Grimlock, but he was now living in Canberra with his fiancée Carol, and she didn’t really keep his warning in her mind.  Mr Grimlock was a little bit scary and strange in some ways, but she liked him well enough and he was in the craft like herself, and that meant they had to stick together as far as Lucy was concerned.

Many a day after school Caroline found Lucy and Michael at Mr Grimlock’s magic shop on Vale Street, just down from their school a few hundred metres.  For the small Cooma market he sold all the traditional magical spell-books, as well as tarot cards, gothic posters and figurines, especially of dragons, necklaces, fantasy novels and all the other paganistic mythological items which many other more mainstream stores sold these days.

Grimlock, at the farm that Saturday afternoon in November, spoke generally with Lucy and shared with her how business was generally quite profitable, not that that was a great issue.  When she had asked why money didn’t seem to matter to him that much had had informed her that he had other sources of wealth if he needed them and that the work was simply to pass the time, as it were, while he contemplated other goals in his life.  She had asked him about those other goals in his life, but he had remained strangely quiet, refusing to comment.

She introduced Grimlock to Minxy the Sprite of Chakola, who was her usual self, being very sassy with her latest acquaintance, as she was with everyone.  And then, seemingly satisfied, he had left, and Lucy had gone to her dinner.

As all years do, though, this one too passed, and Lucy again found herself for her second year at the Zeraxxus school of Magic.  There were no new students due this year, but Ken and

Narelle were in their final years, the school not progressing any further with students after 20 years of age.

Caroline did not take her this time as Darren had offered to drive her up, and when they got to the school they were ushered in quickly and quietly.  Old Peter gave her a similar introduction as he had done the previous year, wished her well, and welcomed her back.  And then her studies began again in earnest.

*   *   *   *   *

‘Well Madame Moiselle?  Shall we then?’

‘I don’t know Genevieve.  I mean, I have a lot of study to do and nobody has ever found it.  We could be searching all weekend and no luck.  Why waste our time?’

‘We could be the lucky ones, Lucy.  Go on – live a little.’

Lucy looked at Genevieve slightly frustrated, but in the end shrugged.

‘Very well.  Were should I start?  Perhaps under the couch?’ she said, the subtlest hint of sarcasm in her voice.

‘My dear Lucy.  If we are going to find the Zaxxon Ruby, I hardly think it will be under the couch.’

Lucy smiled.  ‘Well it might be.’

‘Then you go look.’

‘Well, ok then,’ responded Lucy.  Lucy got to her feet and went to the main living room to move the couch.  Sure enough, it was not underneath it.  However, in moving the couch, she had also moved the old rug, exposing the polished floorboards.  Looking at the floorboards momentarily, just underneath were the couch had been stationed, she noticed something.  The floorboards had a pattern to them, but in the section of the floorboards just under the couch the pattern had been altered ever so slightly.  Perhaps to slightly for anyone to ever really notice unless looking at it directly.  She got down on her knees to look at the pattern.  It seemed as if it was in the shape of a small square.

‘Genevieve.  Come – bring a knife,’ she yelled.

‘A knife,’ yelled Genevieve.  ‘Whatever for?’

‘Trust me.’

Genevieve soon appeared with a sharp knife and handed it to Lucy and, with all the noise, 4 other students, including Ken Chiu, had appeared to see what the fuss was.

‘Whatever are you doing Lucy,’ exclaimed Ken, now alarmed at the digging motion Lucy was making on the floorboards.  Old man Peter had quietly entered in the room, and was at the corner watching on silently.  He smiled to himself.  She was a bright one, as had been rumoured.  Lucy persisted in her digging around the edges of the design and after a few moments removed the wooden floorboard.  She looked down and, spying a box, placed her hand in the hole to bring forth a small wooden box.  Everyone in the room gasped.  Genevieve chuckled.  ‘That was under the couch, wasn’t it Lucy.’  Lucy just grinned.

‘Well go on then, Lucy,’ said Ken.  ‘You may as well open it.’

Lucy, triumphantly, opened the box and smiled.  Lifting out her prize she showed to the room a large ruby, hanging on a chain – a pendant.

‘The Zaxxon Ruby’, gasped Genevieve.  Ken nodded, and the others all shouted ‘well done Lucy’, one of them racing to tell the rest, yelling ‘Lucy has found the Zaxxon Ruby.’

Soon all the students were gazing at the Ruby which Lucy held up triumphantly.  And then Peter came forward and asked to see the Ruby, Lucy obediently handing it to her.

Closely inspecting it, he said, ‘Yes, this is it.  I recognize it from the design in my book.’  He handed it back to her.  ‘Congratulations Lucy.  You have found the Zaxxon Ruby.’

‘What are its powers,’ Lucy asked Peter.

‘Nobody really knows, Lucy.  But it is rumoured that when you are in a life threatening situation, the Ruby will help you when you need it the most.  So hold on to it dear young Miss.’

She nodded, ever so happy.

Later that afternoon, after everyone had fawned over the Ruby, Lucy was alone in her room studying.  She glanced at the Ruby on her desk from time to time, gave a little smile, and happily returned to her studies.

*   *   *   *   *

‘No, Lucifer.  You may NOT kill Lucy.  I stress that again.  You man NOT.  The girl is key in prophecy.  If she dies our claims will fail – that is inevitable.’

Lucifer Malfoy looked with unhidden hostility at his older adopted brother Alexander, yet bit his lip.

‘Very well, Alexander.  Have it your way.  But I will have my vengeance, you hear me.  I will have my vengeance.’

‘But you will not kill her.  Now leave me.  I have much to think about.  Oh, and go get Voldemort out of whatever stronghold the Ministry has him in.  I am sure you can manage that.’

Lucifer shrugged.  He may as well go and free Voldemort.  It would give him something to do – kill the time.  Besides, he was still mad at the Ministry as well and could hopefully knock in some heads in freeing Voldemort.  It would certainly be a pleasant enough way to spend the next few weeks.

*   *   *   *   *

In England, at Hogwarts School of magic, Harry Potter, Lucy’s cousin, whose parents had been killed by the dread wizard Voldemort, was looking at the letter in his hands.  So he was not alone – he had family.  An aunt and a cousin in Australia, Caroline and Lucy.  When Voldemort had killed his parent’s, Harry had been alone and had felt it.  But now – now – he had family again.  And so, he adjusted his plans.  He would finish the year at Hogwarts and, with the funds his parents had left him, go and visit Caroline and Lucy in Australia.  He would see his family and enjoy their company.  It would be a blessing in his life – a blessing young Harry was now grateful for.

*   *   *   *   *

In the Shadow Realm, David Potter sat alone, thinking.  His Centaur friend had disappeared and he was alone again.  But he had found what he felt was a vortex – a doorway out of the Shadow Realm.  In his shallow existence he found it difficult to move the knobs on the gate to the vortex, going through what would probably be a million different combinations to unlock the key to open the vortex.  But time was on his side – he had nothing else to do.  And so, every day walking to his water reserve, David returned and went through the combinations on the control panel, carefully remembering and marking off in his mind the combinations already done.  He would be free again, he was sure of it.  He would one day again be free.

*   *   *   *   *

In Chakola Caroline Potter sat reading the letter Harry had sent her.  He thanked her greatly for telling him of her existence, and promised to come and see her at the end of the year and meet Lucy.

Caroline regretted, often, separating from Harry.  But she had known that the dread power of Voldemort would have hunted her down if she had made herself known, and so had stayed hidden in Australia, raising Lucy as best as she could.  It had been a sacrifice to go without Harry, but one which had to have been made.  But now, with Voldemort imprisoned by the Ministry according to what Alfric had shared with Shelandragh, who had told herself, Caroline felt it now safe to speak with Harry.  It was now time for her family to be whole, and she was silently thankful things were now working out, despite the loss of her husband.

*   *   *   *   *

After finding the Zaxxon Ruby and being the flavour of the month in Zeraxxus, Lucy was again looking forward to coming home, and starting year 7 – high school.  When she did arrive home her mother gave her the news almost immediately that they would be staying with the Bridges family in Calwell for a short while before getting a place of their own somewere in Canberra.  Caroline had been successful in gaining employment at Australian Quarantine – a department of the Public Service – and they would now be living in Canberra.

‘But what about Shelandragh?’ Lucy had moaned.

‘Oh you will see her often enough.  It is just that opportunities like this do not come around very often, and I have to take it.  It is for the best.  You will see that.’

Lucy nodded, reluctantly, but accepted her mother’s decision.

*   *   *   *   *

‘Gemma Watkins.  How very rude.  Go see the principal at once.’  Gemma Watkins, who Lucy had quickly worked out seemed to be a girl who liked the guys, had been flirting with one of the guys at the back of the class in her Year 7 classroom at Melrose High School in Pearce in Canberra.  And she had just gotten into trouble for it.  Lucy watched her leave, glad it wasn’t her getting in trouble on her first day.  After the interruption, the class continued as usual, and some of the students whispered from time to time, pointing at Lucy and calling her a witch, something which may have been known from her Cooma encounters.  The picture in the paper a few years back must have circulated, she felt, and her cover was now blown.  Perhaps they would avoid her, because of it, which had been the usual problem at St Patrick’s in Cooma.  Still, she would cope as she had always done.

At lunchtime, sitting alone at the canteen, she noticed a small group of girls, including Gemma Watkins, watching her.  Eventually, at the suggestion of one of the girls, the group of three came over to were Lucy was sitting.

‘So you’re a witch, huh?’ said Gemma.

Lucy just tried to look embarrassed and not answer.

‘Hey, it’s ok,’ said Frances Jones.  ‘You have to be who you are, and if you are a witch that is ok.  Don’t stress it.  Isn’t that right Justine?’

Justine Atkinson, the conservative Christian in the group of three, did her best not to answer, but did manage an ‘I guess,’ despite not really agreeing with Frances.

Gemma spoke up.  ‘Justine reckoned you would probably be lonely, being the new girl, and that we should be friendly to you.  So you can join our group if you like.  Well, do you want to?’

Lucy, silently very pleased to be making friends again, nodded.  ‘Thanks Gemma.  And thanks Justine.  It would be awesome being friends with you girls.’

And so, friendships which would last forever began that day, and Lucy Potter came to know probably her three best friends in the world, apart from the Bridges children and Michael Bradley, at the beginning of her first year in the capital city of Canberra.

Chapter Eight

‘So what is it like being a witch?  I mean do you cast spells on people and ride broomsticks?’  Lucy noted the subtlest of smiles on Gemma Watkins face, showing she was not being quite serious, but decided to answer honestly anyway.

‘Well, yes actually.’

‘So you do ride a broom,’ commented Justine.

‘I have done.  But not very often.  Usually it is a dragon that I ride.’

Frances, in total unbelief, commented, ‘Yeh right.  She’s having you on.  Everyone knows witches have no real power.  It is all hocus pocus – tricks and foolery.  I’m right aren’t I Lucy?’ said Frances looking straight at Lucy.

‘Uh, sure Frances.  Whatever you say.’

The light banter continued that lunchtime, near the end of Lucy’s first week at Melrose high school.  The four of them, now, had almost become a tight-knit group, almost a little clique of their own, to which Lucy was actually quite grateful, not having to endure being the loner.

As the year wore on the four of them became closer still and Lucy found a little haven at school, moreso than she had known in Cooma at St Pats.  When the school formal came around near the end of the year, Lucy was nervous, as she had been asked to the dance by one of the boys in year 8.  While he was cute, she was not looking for anything serious, and so would just dance with him.  Frances had been asked to the dance by Freddie Bulsara who seemed to like her a lot.  He had bucked teeth, and listened to the band ‘Queen’ a heck of a lot, which Frances also seemed to really like.  They seemed suited to each other, so Lucy privately thought.

After the formal, things for the year were being wrapped up after the exams, and Lucy began preparing again for her third year at Zeraxxus.  But before that could occur Lucy was greeted with the most pleasant of surprises from her homeland, England, in the form of a cousin she had never been told of, a certain Harry Potter.

Harry arrived in Australia near the end of Lucy’s fourth term at Melrose that year and coming home Caroline introduced her to her cousin, David’s brother’s child.

Lucy made all sorts of fuss over Harry, telling him everything about her witchcraft, instantly learning that he had been studying at Hogwarts School of magic in England, and that he, like her, was incredibly gifted in the craft.

They spent a few days at Alfric’s house with Alfric and Darren, and the Ministry officially welcomed Harry to Australia.  Alfric spoke praisingly of Harry’s father David, who had been well respected in the Wizarding community, and encouraged Harry to follow in his father’s footsteps, something which he pledged to do as faithfully as he possibly could.

Just before starting at Zeraxxus in the New Year, Harry left for home, but left Lucy with these words.  ‘You are a Potter, like me Lucy.  And we have a reputation for excellence.  In all that you do, do well.  And remember, we are family.  I will always be there for you.’  After that she hugged him, and her family seemed now complete.

*   *   *   *   *

Lucy was now 13 years old and with Genevieve, who had turned 15, they had permission to go out on weekends from Zeraxxus School of magic, as long as Lucy was in company with  Genevieve.  They had been invited by a student, Jack Black, from one of the more modernish schools of wizardry, to one of the most old fashioned of witchcraft activities – a séance.

Four of them, Jack, his girlfriend Kirsty, Lucy and Genevieve were in the basement of Jack’s parent’s home in Sutherland in Sydney’s east.  Jack welcomed them, giving them Cola and some chips, and then they retired to the basement, lit the candles and got things under way.

‘Who are we calling on,’ asked Genevieve naively.

‘You’ll see,’ responded Jack.

The séance got under way and Jack cast certain binding spells on the pentagram circle, with candles at each corner, to ensure the dark spirits which he intended summoning did not escape that boundary.

Jack began.  ‘I call upon you, lord of darkness.  I call upon you, ancient angel of dread.  I call on you, dark lord Saruviel.  Answer my call.’

Lucy instantly shuddered at that name being mentioned, but said nothing.

Instantly a howling began in the ether of the room – as if a shrieking moan from the pits of hell – and a dark image, cloaked in black, appeared before them.  It spoke.

‘A child?  A child summons me?  When I find you child, you best beware.  You will know my wrath.  Now, cancel the summoning at once, or you will dearly regret it.’

Jack continued unperturbed.  ‘Dark lord Saruviel – we four command that you do our bidding,’ said Jack, indicating those present.

The figure cloaked in darkness looked at the four students and then, noticing Lucy, paid particular attention to her.

Lucy shuddered, with the firelit eyes staring, almost, into her very heart, her very soul, reading her most intimate of secret thoughts.  It spoke again.  ‘You.  You are Lucy Potter.  You are Lucy Potter are you not?’  Lucy remained silent.  It spoke again.  ‘I will meet you, Lucy, one day.  I will meet you and we will have words.  And I will speak to you of the power of darkness – a power, I ensure you, you will find most comforting.  Most comforting indeed.’  And then the voice stopped, and the image was gone, but not before lashing out a short spark of lightning which caught on Jack’s hair, singeing it instantly.

Jack stamped it out and, looking at the group, and especially Lucy, all he could say was, ‘Fuck.’

Later that night, Lucy had nightmares.  Dragons – horrible black dragons – were crawling all over her, luring her, tempting her, promising her all sorts of rewards if, and only if, she would accept their offers, accept their temptations, and come to the darkness.  If she did, so they promised, if she did, the world would belong to her.  Yet Lucy, as befitted a Potter, refused their temptations and, as the night wore on, the nightmares departed, and Lucy awoke in a cold sweat.  She drank some water from the glass beside her bed and sitting up, looking through the window at the full moon, promised herself to never again go to such a séance with Mr Jack Black.  Not even if her life depended on it.

*   *   *   *   *

‘Remember Lucifer, do not harm her.  And Voldemort, when you have finished with your temptations and spells, leave her be.  Ultimately she must make the decision to come of her own thoughts.  So let your words be as cunning and as tempting as possible.  Now begone.’

With those words said, Lucifer Malfoy and the Wizard Voldemort, just freed from a Ministry prison, left the offices of Alexander Darvanius II.  Brax spoke up.

‘Shall I go with them?  Keep an eye on them.’

‘No.  As sick as they both are, I trust them to handle this properly.  They may be decrepit servants, but they usually handle their responsibilities.’  Brax nodded, saying nothing.

‘Leave me Brax.  I have things to think upon.’  Brax left the office of his master, Alexander Darvanius II, and headed off for a drink.

Alexander sat at his desk, contemplating Lucy Potter.  Prophecy – ancient Catholic prophecy – taught him something.  One day, when Lucy confronted himself, she would make a choice on his own destiny when confronted by Destiny herself.  She would be given certain options and Lucy – this young child – would choose the fate of the dark lord.  And so all he could hope to do was tempt her and lead her to the dark side.  Otherwise, knowing the potential fate in store for him, woe and thunder would only come for the dark lord Saruviel.

*   *   *   *   *

‘Alright Lucy.  Can you make the flame rise 1 metre.  And be precise.’  Lucy, thinking on Peter’s words, concentrated on the fireball rising from the fireplace in the back yard of the school of magic.  She was being tested today, and handling the element of fire was in her exam.  She spoke some words silently, concentrated, and the flame of fire in the form of a ball, rose from were it was about 1 metre right upwards.  Peter placed a tick on a box on his paper, and thought about giving her a challenge for extra points.  ‘Ok, Lucy.  You will have to be imaginative for this.  Can you divide the fireballs into 7 separate fireballs, and then make the dance in a circle.  It will be very tough, but lets see if you can do it.  This is for bonus points.’  Lucy looked at Peter, a little perplexed, but returned to the task.  She thought on an appropriate spell wording, concentrated, and spoke ‘Magmas Separatus Septarius.’  Instantly the fireball separated into 7 smaller fireballs.  Peter gave a little tick.  ‘Now see if you can make them dance in a circle.’  Lucy thought on that, and decided to ask Peter if he would mind her using an English spell.  ‘Can I use English?’

‘As long as it works.’

And so she pointed her wand at the fireballs and yelled ‘Merry-go-round’.  At once the fireballs started travelling in a circle, going up and down as if on a merry-go-round, and music from a fair started playing.  Peter looked on and smiled.  She had earned her bonus points.

Looking on from the back window, Genevieve smiled at the sight of the fireballs doing a merry-go-round.  That was just like the talented Lucy.

Lucy again passed her exams that year, this time with flying colours.  She was being deemed a young prodigy by Peter for her creative imagination and the other students all praised her saying ‘well done Lucy’.  Life in the school of magic, for Lucy Potter, was proving wonderful indeed.

*   *   *   *   *

During year 8 at Melrose High, Lucy resumed her friendship with Gemma, Justine and Francine and spoke of her time at Zeraxxus, much to the doubts of Francine who seemingly dismissed it as a fantasy from Lucy’s imagination.  Eventually Frances challenged Lucy to prove she really was a witch and do something magical.  While she was eating an apple, Lucy pointed her wand to Frances apple and said ‘Grow’.  The apple quickly tripled in size in front of the girls and Frances said ‘Enough.  Ok I believe you.  Bloody heck.’  All the girls were slightly shocked at seeing such an open display of magic, and none doubted the talents of young Miss Lucy Potter ever again.

*   *   *   *   *

Grimlock sat in his apartment, finishing off the fried steak for his two guests, Lucifer Malfoy and Voldemort.  Voldemort rarely spoke, but usually just leered, and Grimlock served him is steak and fried tomatoes without a word.

‘So what do you plan on doing, Lucifer,’ asked Grimlock.  ‘The master has sent Voldemort to tempt the white witch.  But I will have my fun first.’

‘And what exactly type of fun is that, dare I ask it.’

‘Ah.  Wait and see.  It will spoil all the fun, otherwise.’

‘Yes, I could imagine.  Well Mr Merryweather is having his wedding up in Canberra this weekend.  Perhaps that might be an opportunity to speak to young Lucy and do what it is you will do.’  Voldemort nodded, taking in that information.

Lucifer spoke, ‘Sounds like the perfect opportunity.  Were is the wedding?’

‘A Church in Gowrie in Tuggeranong.  I am sure you will find it.’

Lucifer skewered the steak, taking a bite.  ‘And I am sure I will find young Lucy.  You can count on that.’  And then he took another bite.

*   *   *   *   *

‘So you are happy enough being a bridesmaid together with Madalene?’ asked Darren to Lucy.  ‘I would be honoured Darren.  And thanks for choosing Madalene.  She is really grateful, believe me.  ‘Carol didn’t really have anyone in the family who was suitable for the job, and Madalene is such a close friend of yours I felt her a suitable choice.  Carol will see you tomorrow with the bridesmaid dresses.  Now the wedding is, of course, at Corpus Christi in Gowrie.  Carol was brought up a Catholic, and that is the church in Canberra she attends, so it was the ideal choice.  Now you have all the details, and I look forward to seeing you there.  I’ll be off now, but I will see you at the wedding.’

‘Sure thing, Darren.  And remember, break a leg.’

‘Thanks, Luce.  Thanks so much for being a kind friend.’  He gave her a hug, and left Caroline and Lucy’s house, headed home.

Lucy had known Darren Merryweather for a while now and really looked forward to his wedding.  He had been such a close friend and mentor that she valued him highly and had been greatly honoured when Carol had chosen her to be one of her bridesmaids.  It would be a wonderful wedding, and she was ever so nervous with anticipation.  It would be a weekend, she felt, to never forget.  A weekend to remember for all time.

Chapter Nine

Lucy was nervous – ever so nervous.  The wedding was set to begin in about 30 minutes, and she was in the presbytery opposite the church with her mother and Madalene’s extended family whom Darren had invited.  Also there were Darren’s parents and 2 sisters from Sydney with their husbands and children, and the whole Davidson entourage of Carol’s family.  It was a truly hectic time.

Carol was at home with her mother and sister, waiting on the limousine.  It had been decided for Madalene and Lucy to meet Carol at the church, and then the service would begin.

Madalene looked nervous and said to Lucy, ‘I’m so nervous I could pee.’

‘Well don’t ok.’

‘Maybe you should cast a spell on me just in case.’

‘I don’t think I know one for that,’ replied Lucy.

‘Oh well.’

Beside the church, in Grimlock’s ratty old Holden Commodore, Grimlock, Lucifer and Voldemort were watching on intently, the dark glass of the car windows shielding people from knowing their identities.  Grimlock spotted the two girls, Lucy and Madalene, come out the front of the Presbytery to talk, and then Madalene went back inside, leaving Lucy all alone.  She seemed to be praying.

‘Ok Lucifer.  I will talk with her first, and then do what you will.’

Grimlock got out of the car and approached Lucy.  Lucy looked startled.  ‘Grimlock.  What are you doing here?  Did Darren invite you?’

Grimlock spoke.  ‘I have come to ask you a question Lucy.  A most important question.  Your life may depend on your answer.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’ responded Lucy, perplexed.

‘The darkness.  The power of the Black Dragons.  The power of Saruviel.  Have you decided to give yourself over to these powers – have you made the right decision, young Miss Lucy Potter.’

Lucy stared at Grimlock and just then all the many warnings Darren had given her about him hit home.  It was true – he was part of the power of darkness.

‘I trusted you Grimlock.  I trusted you.  And you are not good at all.  You are evil.  Go away, now.  Go away.  I am going to tell Darren.’

‘Probably not,’ spoke a voice.  Lucy jumped.  It was the voice – that voice – which had confronted her so savagely at the Newmerella River.  The one and only voice of the dread Lucifer.  She turned to see her nemesis standing a few metres from her, a dread look on his face.  He began speaking.

‘Hello Miss Potter.  I haven’t forgotten our last encounter, you know.  Believe me on that.  And I don’t think you will ever forget this one.’

‘Be quick about what you are doing,’ said Grimlock.

Lucy was cornered, but before she could do anything Lucifer had come forward, grabbed her, and put his hand on her mouth.  And then, dragging her across the road, to the Fadden Pines Park, down to the narrow valley like section with nobody about, Lucifer started disrobing Lucy from her expensive bridesmaid dress.  She struggled.  God knows she struggled, as she told herself reassuringly many times years later, but he was too strong.  And the viscious and vile Lucifer Malfoy proceeded to rape Lucy Potter, having his final and satisfying evil vengeance.

When he had finished Lucy was sobbing silently.  Her virginity had gone, and in the most horrible of ways.  And then Lucifer had left.

She lay there on the grass, sobbing for a few minutes, before another voice spoke.  ‘Greetings Miss Potter.  I knew your father.  I cast him into the shadow realm, and killed your uncle.  I, however I fear I can no longer call you fair maiden, but I fair maiden am Voldemort.  And I have come to make you an offer.  Serve me – serve the power of darkness – or I will cast your soul into the shadow realm.  While your body will inhabit this earth, you will be as if a living zombie, unable to have any real life.  Oh, you will think and act normally most of the time, but it will be a half life.  A shadow life without your soul.’

All Lucy could manage in response was a ‘Go to Hell.’  She reached inside her dress to try and bring forth her wand, but instantly a spell was cast on her, denying her of her powers.  And she felt completely helpless.

‘Fear not, Miss Potter.  Your powers are useless.  I have cast a spell on you negating all of your spiritual energy.  You are at my leisure.  Now, tell me again of your answer.’

Lucy struggled up and just then remembered something Peter had said.  When she needed it the most, it would help.  And she was wearing it around her neck for the wedding.  She grasped the Ruby, pointed her wand, and yelled ‘Relocate!’  And just as suddenly Voldemort was gone, back to wherever he had come from.

She got to her feet and looked for Lucifer and Grimlock, but they had already gone.  Perhaps she had given them the answer they needed to hear.

She had stopped her sobbing.  But the pain was in her heart.  Yet she remembered words of encouragement often spoken to her and faced something.  ‘What is done is done, and can’t be undone.’  And so she tidied herself up, and walked back to the presbytery.

Inside Madalene looked at her, annoyed.  ‘Lucy.  What a state your dress is in.  Come quickly, and I will fix it up.  We are beginning shortly.’  Lucy obediently came over to Madalene, who patted of the grass clippings, and tidied her up.  After a few minutes of careful grooming she looked alright again, and Brigid said she would be fine.

‘Whatever happened to you?’ asked Madalene.  Lucy just looked at her, frozen.  She couldn’t say.  She wouldn’t say.  She was too embarrassed.  For something which had been in no way her fault, she was too embarrassed.  And she was to strong a person – to strong in character – for this to affect the wedding.  No, she would go through her duties, and let the incident be forgotten.  But she would never forget Lucifer.  She would never forget him.

*   *   *   *   *

It was later on, down in Bunyan, the following week, that Lucy was at Shelandragh’s.  And she was in the lounge room and began crying.  Shelandragh asked her whatever the matter could be, and Lucy spoke of the rape.  Shelandragh took her, cradling her in her arms, and the two sobbed silently.  And Shelandragh, calling on her powers, said ‘Forget Lucy.  Forget.  Forget.’  And for a number of years after that Lucy Potter did forget her rape at the hands of Lucifer.  She did forget the vengeance he had shown her.

But over time, she recalled the incident, with less dramatic horror now, but she knew, one day, she would again confront Lucifer.  And it would be a day of reckoning.  A day in which issues between Lucy Potter and Lucifer Malfoy would be resolved once and for all.

THE END