Lucy Potter (Harry's Cousin) The Novel - FREE to read in full

[Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly]

‘Lucy Potter’

(Lucy Potter Book One)

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



by Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

http://noahidebooks.angelfire.com

© 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010



Prologue



David Potter looked at the dark lord, a feeling of dread within his
stomach. His brother and his brother’s wife had been killed by
Voldemort. Their son, Harry, had been thankfully and gracefully
delivered, but David knew that he was in trouble. He knew his time
was short. That morning he had sent Caroline safely away with his
newborn child Lucy, and the two of them were now safe – beyond the
dark lord’s reach. But David knew, as he watched Voldemort menacingly
approach, that his time had come. Voldemort knew of Caroline, but
would give her little thought, so David hoped. She was a muggle – not
given to the craft. But his beloved daughter, young Lucy, she was
certainly a half-blood. She would have the gift. She would have the
power which Voldemort sought to corrupt. But Voldemort did not know
of her. He would never know. David would die before he shared that
information with his hated enemy. He would give his life over to the
netherworld before he would betray his beloved child. And as the
power of the spell of ‘shados’ – the shadowlife - was placed upon
David by his enemy before him, he knew at that moment that his
daughter would be safe. He knew his beloved Lucy would not fall into
the hands of Voldemort. That she, at least, would have a happy and
safe life. Away and hidden from the power of the Dark Lord. Hidden
in Australia, were wizards and witches from the old world did not
greatly frequent.



As the spell overcame him, he sank to the ground. His spirit slowly
departed his body and entered the shadow realm. A place it would
remain – trapped and beyond the ability of anyone to help him. A
slave to the Shadow Realm, were other tortured souls lived out their
existence. But Lucy was safe. Thankfully she was safe. And as he
entered the darkness he was grateful for that one small mercy.



Chapter One



‘Young Miss Lucy Potter’



At 10 years of age, Lucy was a happy child. Under her mother’s
guidance, through the knowledge, if not skill, her husband had taught
her, Lucy had learned from Caroline much of the ways of witchery.
Lucy, so talented at her craft, had excelled in the gift. Caroline
had shared with Lucy a little of her Father, David’s life, and said he
had been a good man, and that she would have been proud of him. But
she had not shared those other secrets of his life. Those other
details, which she knew she must keep hidden from her daughter.
Caroline had once looked into the welfare of her nephew, Harry. David
had departed from the life of Harry’s father at a very young age, and
had been presumed dead or missing by the Potter family. But David had
kept his eye on the Potter family from time to time – never revealing
himself, but watching over their happiness. With the birth of Harry
he had been happy for them, but knew with Harry’s parent’s untimely
death that he must avenge his brother. Caroline had told David to
stay out of the matter, certain it would only bring them harm, but
David had been resolute. The Dark Lord was to be confronted – and
dealt with. But of that encounter, Caroline had received word amongst
the wizard community, and when David failed to return she knew her
beloved had perished. She had visited Hogwarts once only, in the
company of a trusted witch-friend who occasionally visited the school
of wizardry. She had seen Harry, who was in the presence of a red-
headed lad at the time. She felt assured and encouraged that he was
happy in life, and that things would look up for her nephew. She
felt, then, it was safe to leave him be and concentrate on the
upbringing of her own child, Lucy.



Lucy looked at the cat hovering in mid-air, very pleased with the
success she’d achieved. She had used the new ‘English’ spell ‘Hover’,
which was based on the ancient spells, but had been spellwoven by her
teacher, ‘Shelandragh May’. Shelandragh had woven many spells around
the Bunyan hutlet, and one of them allowed older spells to be now
spoken in basic English. She was a revered teacher of the craft in
her region, and found it useful to start new beginners in their own
basic language, before they moved on to the older tongue. Lucy, her
current pupil, lived just down the road in the hutlet of Chakola, just
off the highway. Lucy’s mother, Caroline, had approached Shelandragh
and asked her, if she was willing, to teach her daughter the craft, as
this was what her Father would have wished. When Caroline had
explained that they were from England, Shelandragh had made the
comment that spiritual realities were different in the southern
continent. Older aboriginal spirits hovered here. The lords of the
dreamtime spoke with her in dreams and visions, and insisted on
certain protocols and a degree or respect be shown the indigenous
people. But they had permitted Shelandragh to practice her craft in
the Bunyan region, as long as such activities were within reason.



Shelandragh had respected the dreamtime lord’s wishes and woven
certain spells around bunyan to keep peace and harmony with the
region, without letting any of the other nearby spirits be affected by
her work. She was of course, very careful about the region just to
the north of her. Under Canberra dwelt an old and ancient dragon. A
most fearful opponent. A cave, hidden in the mountains of the
Brindabella’s, lead down to an ominous cavern, were the beast dwelt.
An aboriginal tribesman had shown her the cave, but warned her not to
venture into it. But she, in her stubborn pride, had refused to
listen to his words, and dared the cave. The journey had been fearful
and long, as she walked along eastward and then northward, coming into
a huge cavern. It was there she spotted an enormous dragon, dark
black, with a golden ridge along his spine, sleeping and snoring
loudly. It was the largest dragon she had ever seen, and she was
silently terrified. She left, very carefully and quietly. But she
was satisfied. She had seen with her own two eyes the beast, and had
identified its breed – the ‘Golden Ridged Wyvvern’ – the largest of
all the Wyvvern’s, which was not, technically, a dragon in the
classification she knew of, but which the aboriginal’s probably would
not know of. Still, to her pupils she usually called the beast a
dragon, when they were older occasionally spelling out its exact
classification.



Satisfied that the spell was working, Lucy looked around the room.
The cat, Shelandragh’s, was miaowing furiously at having been made to
hover in the middle of the air, which the cat was finding most
distressful. ‘Calm down, Mushroom.’ Lucy said, speaking to the cat.
‘I will let you down when I am satisfied.’ The cat, Mushroom, ignored
her and persisted in her cries. Lucy looked at a stack of books lying
near the fireplace. Old tomes of spells, she presumed. Yes – they
would make a perfect next subject. She pointed her wand and spoke the
word, again in plain English. ‘Hover’. The books, obediently, rose
from the ground and settled in the air at about the same height as
Mushroom, who was still persistently miaowing. Lucy was overjoyed.
She turned to the vacuum cleaner near the wall and again repeated the
spell, with again the same success. Looking at the objects, Lucy was
so pleased, that she did not notice Shelandragh who had walked into
the room and was standing behind her looking at what her young pupil
had achieved. She smiled to herself, pleased that Lucy was showing
the gifts, now, quite well. But she came to herself and knew she had
a demeanour to maintain. ‘Lucy Potter!,’ she exclaimed. ‘Heaven’s
above. What do you think you are doing, young lady?’ Lucy jumped,
turning to Shelandragh, losing concentration on her objects, which
dutifully fell to the ground. The cat Mushroom screeched, running to
the lounge chair, hiding underneath. The vacuum cleaner smashed into
the ground, the case coming loose with dust spewing everywhere.
Fortunately, for Lucy, the books smacked into the ground, but seemed
to be otherwise intact. Lucy froze. ‘I’m sorry, Shelandragh. I’m
sorry, I’m sorry!’ she exclaimed. Shelandragh looked at the mess the
floor was now in. She walked into the kitchen, and soon returned with
dustpan and brush in hand. She handed them to Lucy, tilted her head,
and looked at the dust. ‘Alright,’ moaned Lucy, understanding that
her job at the moment was to clean up the mess she had caused.



Shelandragh sat down on the lounge and picked up a tome from the table
beside the lounge, seemingly looking through it. She looked up at
Lucy who was staring at her. ‘Well. Get to it.’ She said, waving her
hand towards the mess. Lucy, reluctantly, got down on her knees and
started sweeping up the dirt. When she had finished, she emptied the
dust into the pile of ashes in the fireplace. Shelandragh stopped
reading the book she was holding, and placed it on the table. She
looked sternly at Lucy. ‘Lucy Potter. What, may I ask, were you
possibly thinking of in casting that spell. You know that it is not
in our curriculum until next year.’ ‘Yes, Shelandragh. I know. But
I borrowed one of your books over the weekend and was practicing it at
home. It was working, so I tried it again today.’ ‘I see,’ replied
Shelandragh. ‘Were there any other spells that you tried?’ ‘Uh, mm.
Ah no,’ replied Lucy, after much stuttering, which suggested to
Shelandragh that her young pupil was not being quite so honest.



Shelandragh, although silently pleased that Lucy was showing
acceptable initiative, decided that she must caution her young
friend. ‘Lucy. Magic is a responsibility. It is not something to be
tampered with, or taken lightly. Many a foolhardy soul has perished
believing himself or herself to be wiser than they actually were. I
would encourage you, young child. Do not be one of them. The spells
I teach you, I teach you at the appropriate age. You are still very
young, being only 10. But you have such maturity for such a young
age, and so much talent, especially for a half-blood, that I am happy
to teach you things beyond your normal years. I knew a wizard, once.
Dumbledore was his name. Many a tale he shared with me about the
affairs of life and the things he had seen. Great and powerful
things. But one thing he did share with me was the tale of
Mallintor. Mallintor was a master of Magic. At 30 he was flowing in
the craft, respected by all the good – feared by all the bad. But
Mallintor, one day, bit off more than he could chew. He had been
challenged by a supposed friend to defeat a dark wizard. A wizard
whose name was cloaked with fear and darkness. Mallintor, in the
pride of his youth and prowess, had accepted the challenge. But he
was not, so he had assumed, ready for the encounter. His training had
been appropriate. His talent unmistakable. But one thing cost him.
Cost him greatly. Mallintor had become arrogant and believed that he
could defeat any opponent. No matter how great they claimed to be.
And so he had tackled this dark lord, but had come up short. The evil
one had captured him and cast a spell which deprived Mallintor of his
power. The dark one had then let him go. He had called him a trifle,
a thing of no consequence. Mallintor had been humiliated. Reduced to
what, for him, was the disastrous life of a muggles. And all of this
because Mallintor believed he was something more than he was. Pride
had been the end of him.’ Lucy listened to the words, her young mind
contemplating the fate of Mallintor, and at that moment resolutely
deciding that such would not be her fate. Whatever else, she would
exercise caution, and be prepared for whatever life threw at her.



‘So you see, young Lucy,’ continued Shelandragh. ‘You need to have a
strong grip – a firm understanding – on your real capabilities. To
think more of yourself. To go beyond your actual talents and what you
have in that heart of yours, is to suffer the fate of Mallintor. And
that fate I would not wish on a child such as yourself, with all your
talent.’ Lucy nodded again at her teacher’s words.



Shelandragh rose to her feet. ‘Well, young Lucy. We have finished
today’s lesson. I was going to share one other thing with you, but
your little incident has changed that plan. Tomorrow, from 3 till 4,
I will expect you as usual. I will be in Cooma in the morning, so
don’t come around expecting me early in the day. But I will be back
in time for our lesson. Well, be off with you,’ said Shelandragh,
shooing her young student out the door.



Shelandragh watched her go up the pathway, up to the road, crossing
over, and soon coming to the dirt track which led the back-road to
Chakola. Usually, Caroline came and collected her in her car, but
Lucy had stated quite often she did not mind the long walk back to
Chakola, and now knowing all the residents along the back road, she
was quite safe in her trip. Shelandragh admired such determination
from someone so young. But she also thought of Mallintor and wondered
if life would ever bring any such challenge to her young pupil. She
hoped not. She hoped most definitely not.



* * * * *



Lucy walked along the road, heading towards her home at Chakola. The
walk would take her probably 2 to 3 hours, but she didn’t mind. She
liked walking, seeing the countryside, and seeing the sheep and cattle
which littered the fields on the back road to Chakola. There were a
number of gates which she had to pass, which she usually managed to
open, but sometimes simply climbed over. Although it was summer, and
daylight saving time had began, meaning extended daylight, the light
would gradually diminish as she neared home.



Quite a while later, coming over the last sheep-proof gate, she walked
down the dirt track between the place she knew of as home. Old man
Barry, who lived in the old home opposite hers waved to her as she
opened the gate to her home. She liked the Old man. His oldest son
had the same name as her father, David. David worked on the farmstead
of Chakola, although his wife lived up in Canberra. David’s children,
Madalene, Jayden and Georgia, came down to the farm often with their
mother, Brigid. Those three were Lucy’s best friends in the whole
world. So much in fact did they get along that Madalene, at her
confirmation, had taken Lucy’s own name in her honour. The four of
them played all the time when they were at the farmstead. In fact,
Lucy’s home was being rented by her mother Caroline from David who was
the owner. It was an old home, which had been brought down from
Sydney on a truck. It was built adjoining an old school-hall, which
had been the school for the Chakola area years ago. And at the end of
the school hall were extra rooms which had been added by David and
Barry.



Just down from the homes was the ‘Newmerella’ river. It flowed most
of the time, but droughts in their region were a factor of life, and
it often was not flowing, with little water to be pumped onto the
fields. David often bemoaned this, as he did the life of a farmer,
but it was the lifestyle he liked. It suited him and his personality,
and he did not really want to trade it for another.



Across from the river were some of the main fields were David worked,
as well as a couple of other farmsteads – one being neighbours, the
other belonging to David’s family.



Coming in through the door, Lucy was pleasantly surprised to see her
mother standing before the fire, stoking the burning wood, talking
with Madalene, Georgia and Jayden who were seated on the old tatty
blue lounge. ‘Lucy,’ yelled Jayden, pleased to see his friend.
Georgia got up and started showing Lucy some shells that the three of
them had collected at the seashore were they had been that afternoon.
Lucy had forgotten about the trip, which she had been asked to attend,
but she had politely declined, not wanting to miss her lesson that
day. Magic was now becoming very important to her, and she took it
seriously now. Quite seriously.



She looked over at Madalene. ‘How was the sea?’ ‘About the same. We
went to Tathra last year and hunted for some prawns along the coast
then, as we did again today. There weren’t many today, but it was
fun.’ ‘Yeah, it was okay,’ said Jayden. ‘Were have you been, Lucy?’
asked Georgia, in the faint voice she occasionally spoke with. ‘We
told you before, Georgie.’ Said Jayden. Your always forgetting.’
‘She is not,’ said Madalene, defending her younger sister. Jayden and
Georgia were still of an age in which they fought a lot. Madalene, as
belied her character in general, had begun maturing, and was starting
to become a mature young lady. ‘I have been at Shelandragh’s,
Georgia. It was my lesson today.’ ‘Go on, cast a spell,’ said
Jayden. ‘You probably want to, anyway,’ said Madalene, agreeing with
her brother. Lucy looked at her mother, who nodded consent. Lucy
looked around the room and spotted Tom the cat, sitting near the
fireplace, all curled up and happily dozing. Caroline looked at Lucy
and were she was looking, and then firmly said, ‘No, Lucy. Not the
cat.’ Lucy shrugged, and continued surveying the room. She spied an
old book on the table and asked Jayden to place it on the floor.
Jayden did as asked, and Lucy, looking at it, concentrated and pulled
at her wand. After a few moments she said ‘Hover’, and, the spell
unfolding, the book started rising up from the floor, a metre or so.
The three children started laughing, and Jayden grabbed the book.
‘That was cool,’ said Georgia in her faint voice. ‘You be careful
with that spell,’ said Caroline, alarmed at the possible mischief her
daughter could get into with such powers. ‘Yes mother. I’ll be
careful,’ replied Lucy. ‘Come on. Let’s go outside,’ she said to the
others, and they all followed her out the front door.



The rest of the afternoon was filled with much yelling and shouting of
the word ‘hover’, although only Lucy’s use of the word brought the
others desired affect. But of that afternoon, much fun was had by the
assembled children, and as Lucy lay in her bed that night, looking up
at the dark ceiling, she smiled at the adventurous day she had had,
wondering what new treat the morning would bring her.



Chapter Two



‘The Malevolent Grimlock’



Grimlock stumbled along the dirt track, hastening as quickly as he
could manage, given the limp from his bad leg. Tonight, the night of
nights, the dark lord would speak with him. His master, lord
Darvanius, would instruct him of his new plan. A plan he had recently
brought to the surface. Grimlock thought about Voldemort, who
Darvanius often pushed to and fro in his plans. Voldemort was, in the
end, easy to use under Darvanius’ dark might. Grimlock realized that
he too served Darvanius’, much in the way Voldemort did so. But he
liked to think that perhaps he had more say in how he carried out his
work under Darvanius’ instructions. But he did not think that often.
Not often. He felt the shadow of the dark lord upon him often, always
there, silently eating away at him. Rebuking him, and then, quite
contrarily, encouraging him. But all the time, so Grimlock felt,
manipulating him towards the grand purpose Darvanius sought. That
much he did not like, but nevertheless he served his dark lord, eager
for the reward that Darvanius often spoke of and said, one day, he
would reward him with.



Grimlock entered his small shack, nestled in the western hills of
Tasmania, hidden from all. This was his private place – his dark
abode. He resided, usually, in Hobart, were he had a small shop
dedicated to the dark arts. ‘The Dragon’s Lair’, he had called it,
those many years ago when the shop opened. Business had been slow at
first, the community still fearing magic somewhat in those days, but
gradually changing their attitudes. But now, darkness was becoming
popular – ever so popular. To his great disdain, magic now had white
witches and white magic. Magicians dedicated to purity and goodness.
In his store, he held a number of such books, but they were only for
show. Primarily designed to ward of suspicious authorities,
especially the ever curious ministry of magic, who occasionally
monitored his affairs. The Canberra bureau of the ministry operated
under the sanction of the English ministry, a tradition established
many years ago. They had operatives in most of the major cities,
including Hobart, and he knew the regular fellow from the ministry who
visited his store. Darren Merryweather – a dedicated wizard of the
light. He would browse the Dragon’s Lair from time to time, perhaps,
so Grimlock thought, suspicious about the rumours in the community
that Grimlock also sold, alongside the traditional fare, tomes of dark
magic. Forbidden, evil spells. Darren occasionally inquired of
Grimlock wether he had such books for sale, stating a curiousity on
the matter, but Grimlock always denied any such books, claiming
perfect innocence. He knew that Darren probably did not believe him,
but he would never betray himself. He would keep his secret, and go
on with the charade that had developed.



He looked at the clock on the wall. 5.35 pm. Darvanius would summon
him around 9.00 pm – a usual time. The Dark Lord would enter his room
through his spirit guide and speak with Grimlock, instructing him on
his new purposes. Before then he would prepare his nightly meal, and
study some of his texts he had brought with him from Hobart. And he
would wait – anxiously wait – anticipating the new directives from his
dark master.



* * * * *



‘So, Darren. He remains insistent that he has no such books. No such
knowledge of the dark arts?’ ‘Yes, Alfric. He maintains this
position. I have heard rumours and innuendo from many wizards and
witches in Hobart and throughout Tasmania that he has been involved
with shady gatherings and questionable activities. But so far there
is nothing substantial to justify any further investigation. Perhaps,
like a number of us, he has an interest in the dark side. A
curiousity. A fascination. But perhaps that is all that it is. He
has never hinted to me personally that he has any such knowledge,
which is probably not true. But he may simply be embarrassed about
any such involvement, not wishing for his reputation to be sullied.’
‘Yes,’ said Alfric. ‘That is what the ministry has generally
concluded. At this stage, then, we will not proceed with the
suggested detailed investigation. Keep your eye on him, though. But
keep your distance as well. We do not want your position with the
ministry known about. You are one of only three special agents doing
this work in Australia, and they are not easy to train. We can not
afford your cover to be blown.’ ‘Yes, I understand, Alfric. In the
brief you mailed me, you stated that my work in Hobart was nearly
complete. What is this new mission you have been hinting at?’ ‘Ah
yes. Shelandragh May and the half-blood Lucy Potter.’ ‘Lucy Potter!
Said Darren, the name catching his attention. ‘Any relation to the
English lad?’ ‘Yes, actually. His cousin. Few know of that, so keep
it to yourself. You will need to know because of your next mission,
but the information is privy to only the top hierarchy in the ministry
of magic.’ ‘I understand. What is the mission?’ ‘Shelandragh
regularly visits us here in Canberra. She has been keeping Lucy’s
progress in mind in her reports, and we feel it is time for Lucy to
have another mentor in her progress. She, for a half-blood, is
showing tremendous talent and potential – far more than any
Shelandragh has ever heard or read about.’ ‘That family. The
Potters. It probably runs in their blood.’ ‘Deeply, I would say
Darren. And because of that, we of the ministry feel that Lucy has,
given Shelandragh’s ongoing praises and comments, the potential to one
day sit here in the ministry of magic. The Half-bloods need a voice
from their own community. A beacon of light for them. We feel young
Lucy has the potential to fill such a role. Your mission is to be,
for now, indefinite in time. Perhaps a number of months, but quite
possibly a number of years may be involved. We wish you to move down
to Cooma and start associating with Shelandragh. Introduce yourself
to Lucy. Get to know her. Say you are an old friend of
Shelandragh’s. Children are innocent. She will probably believe
you. And with the trust we expect you to maintain with her, teach her
other lessons that Shelandragh does not. Be the father figure she is
missing. Be an older friend – a confidante – someone she can look up
to and respect. I am sure that you will know what to say to her and
to teach her as you get to know her and sound her out. You are the
most gifted in counselling amongst the ministry operatives, and these
skills will be needed. Remember, keep in mind you may be training a
future member of the ministry of magic. She will need to be
responsible and up to the task if she is chosen. So undertake, with
the greatest of seriousness, the responsibilities the ministry is
entrusting you with Darren. In a sense, young Lucy’s future is in
your hands.’ Darren nodded, taking those words in. ‘When do I
begin?’ ‘As soon as possible. When you have wrapped up your business
in Hobart, we expect you down in Cooma. We have rented a room for you
on the main street, and have had it furnished with appropriate
furnishings and other articles of wizardry. Touch it up as you see
fit. And please, take care with young Lucy. She is a ‘Potter’ and as
such we are in, in a sense, uncharted territory. Now get to it. I
have other business to take care of, but I will see you off before you
leave. If you’ll excuse me then.’ Alfric got up from his lounge
chair in the main lounge of the ministry of magic library, and exited
the room. Darren sat there for a few moments, contemplating his new
mission. He stood, walking over to the window, and looked out on the
scenery of Canberra. A new mission was always exciting, and this one,
in particular, had the opportunity he had been waiting for. To impart
his knowledge and lore to another student. That would be exciting – a
grand new adventure for Mr Merryweather.



* * * * *



Lucy looked at the river in front of her. She was standing at the
crossing of the Newmerella river in Chakola. She was sitting on the
edge of the concrete crossing, the river flowing underneath the
crossing just a metre or so below. She looked again at the words of
the spell in the book of both new and ancient spells. The spell was,
like the hover spell, set for her next year in the curriculum, but she
felt that as she had already ventured forth into new waters, she would
continue as such. The spell was known by two terms – ‘Hydros
Conflagius’, as well as ‘Aqaurius tempest’. It was, from reading the
description, meant to cause a raging rush of water – water being the
necessary ingredient for the spell to work. She had prepared for the
spell by following the necessary meditations before hand that these
particular spells required, to summon a water spirit of the river,
which would then act on her request. The spells were from a book that
Shelandragh herself had composed, and worked on slightly different
aspects of magic then Shelandragh had been taught in her younger days
in her training to be a witch. They were animistic spells, spells
involving land, water, fire, air and animal spirits. Late yesterday
she had performed a spell on a nearby willow tree, summoning the dryad
of the tree to cause the branches to grow. After she had performed
and completed the spell, the dryad had complained a little, suggesting
that the willow had been happy and did not really want the
disturbance. Lucy had dutifully apologized, but had decided to try
another spell anyway, hopefully one which would not leave such a
disturbance. The water spells seemed appropriate, so she had decided
on ‘Hydros Conflagius’, which had also been named ‘Aquarius Tempest’.
Speaking the words, the water spirit appeared. She looked similar to
the dryad she had seen yesterday, but wore a blue dress, covered in
watery designs, rather than the green one the dryad had been dressed
in. She was around the same size as the dryad, about 30 centimetres
in height, hovering, wings flapping, just before Lucy’s face. The
water spirit, known as a sprite, looked at Lucy, a frown on her face.
‘HYDROS CONFLAGIUS?!! You can not be serious young miss Potter. Do
you know just how much trouble I will get into with my father if I
allow ‘Hydros Conflagius’. Lucy smiled at the little frown on the
sprites face. ‘How did you know my name? Lucy asked the Sprite. ‘Oh,
we all know you, young Miss Lucy. We live here and see you all the
time. We have heard David’s children say your name often and knew
quite well who you were.’ Lucy’s curiousity had been aroused by that
statement. ‘Just how many of you spirits live here.’ ‘Now that would
be telling, young Miss Potter. Perhaps when you are older we may,
may, share that knowledge with you. That is if you stop trying to
cast spells like, ugh, Hydros Conflagius. Now, I must ask you again,
are you serious? I am required, if you insist, to honour your spell –
such is our responsibility. But we are allowed to ask, especially
inexperienced spellcasters, if they are quite serious in their
intents. Do you know what this spell will do?’ ‘What?’ asked Lucy,
quite innocently. The sprite looked at Lucy from the corner of her
eye, a wicked thought having developed in her head. ‘Well, if you
must know, THIS!!!’ Suddenly a large torrent of water rushed up from
the river next to the crossing, saturating young Lucy, spinning her
backwards. She let out a moan, and got to her feet, squishing the
water out of her saturated pullover. ‘Oh, thank you very much, you
little sprite!’ The sprite hovered up to Lucy’s face and smiled.
‘Your welcome. But let that be a warning to you,’ she said as she
started flying away. ‘Such spells are not to be trifled with. There
is no telling how much harm you could do.’ The sprite then flew to
the surface of the water, disappearing below surface. Lucy looked
down at the water, but could not see were the sprite had gone. ‘I
guess that is her home,’ she thought to herself.



Picking up the book, wiping water of the leather-bound cover, she
started trudging up to her home, just a hundred metres or so up the
road. Her mother was in Cooma at the moment, but Old Man Barry’s
wife, Mary, who was looking after her in her mother’s absence, would
surely have words with her. But, perhaps not. Mary was very kind to
Lucy, treating her practically like her own daughter.



Mary looked at Lucy as she came in through the doorway. ‘What have
you done,’ she asked the drenched Lucy. ‘Umm. I fell in,’ said Lucy,
too embarrassed to share the real story with her. ‘A likely tale,’
replied Mary. ‘You better take that jumper off and put on another
top. I’ll get a towel so you can dry up.’ Mary walked into the
hallway and grabbed a towel from the linen cupboard. Handing it to
Lucy, she motioned for Lucy to take her top off and dry down. Lucy
dutifully obeyed, and after a few moments of towelling herself off,
put on one of her favourite T-shirts – the one with the Lion on the
front. ‘There, that’s better,’ said Mary, who had taken the towel and
was now furiously drying Lucy’s her, much to her protestations.

‘Your mother should be home soon. There is some pumpkin soup on the
stove, bubbling away. Brigid’s recipe, which I know you like. It
might be a good idea to fill up on some of that, which will help you
warm up after your dip.’ Lucy nodded and made her way to the kitchen,
taking a bowl, and ladled herself some soup.



Sitting at the Kitchen table, she looked through the spell book.
There were so many spells. So many interesting and fascinating
spells. For the young Lucy, it was like a treasure-trove of
delights. Each new spell offering, potentially, a lifetime of use and
delight. Shelandragh had given the spell book back to her in
yesterday’s lesson, after she had reclaimed it the previous day after
the ‘hover’ incident. She had said that, although Lucy was still
young, her initiative needed to be rewarded and had thus allowed her
young student to exercise her curiousity and study the tome of
spells. That allowance had been echoed by her old friend visitor, Mr
Merryweather, who she had introduced to young Lucy. Mr Merryweather
was an old acquaintance who she had known for years, so she said. He
looked, to Lucy, in his mid 30s, compared with the late 50s for
Shelandragh, which made her question just how many years Shelandragh
had in fact known the said Mr Merryweather. She thought that perhaps
he was a former student, like herself, which meant she could
potentially have known him for as much as two decades or more. This
type of thinking, working out details and being exact, was so common
to the thoughts of young Lucy Potter. She was the most precise of
children. This reflected her upbringing at the hands of her mother
Caroline. Caroline had been raised in a very traditional English
home, and had seen to it that she herself would look to Lucy’s
education, given their frequent travels around Australia in their
younger days. From 7 Caroline had pushed her daughter to use her
intellect as much as she could. She felt, so she had shared with her
daughter, that most public and private schooling failed to really
foster the talent within their students in the individual way they
all, so desperately, needed. Caroline had made sure that Lucy would
use her wits to the best of her abilities. She had taught her English
and Mathematics lessons from a very young age, even introducing the
concept of ‘algebra’ to Lucy when she was only 8. Lucy, herself, was
an intelligent and sharp young lady, suited to her mother’s training.
But she did know, compared with David’s children, that she was just as
bright as them, especially Madalene who she looked up to, but also
recognized the training of her mother, who constantly challenged her
mind to think in new and different ways. ‘Lateral thinking’ was a
term she was very used to from her mother. This constant training had
sharpened the mind of young Lucy. What, perhaps, would have been just
another above average student in school, had become an intelligent and
analytical thinker under the adroit training of her mother. Caroline
had once remarked to Lucy, ‘Nature and Nurture are interesting
factors, child of mine. But, I feel, nurture is, in the way they
currently look at it, still greatly underestimated. We have so much
talent that is left unused. So apply yourself, young Lucy. Apply
yourself.’ Lucy, only now, was beginning to understand the meaning of
nature and nurture in the way her mother used the words. She had
looked them up in the dictionary to try and understand and now felt
she perhaps was beginning to grasp what her mother was speaking
about. And in her mother’s encouragement, she had taken to her talent
at magic, even more so than in her younger years, something which both
her mother and Shelandragh had noticed in the young child.



As the afternoon passed, and evening approached, Lucy had read through
much of the book of spells. She had concentrated, although many of
the words she had difficulty in understanding, but was grasping some
of the basic spells. Perhaps, again tomorrow, after her lesson, she
would try a new spell. And perhaps a water spell again, as she felt
she might want to have another encounter with that sprite who had
played that trick on her. But whatever spell she chose, for now she
had had enough of magic, and had turned on the television, noticing
that it was nearly 6.00 pm. ‘The Simpson’s were on at 6, and she
hardly ever missed her favourite show.



Chapter Three



‘Lucy’s Lesson’



Lucy, standing in front of Shelandragh’s home, near the Monaro highway
in Bunyan, looked at the clouds over in the west. They were grey,
full of water, and near ready to burst. Lightning had been striking
in occasional outbursts. And Thor had been belting out his thunderous
cries, perhaps a sign of a new war with Loki. Asatru was, to young
Lucy, a most fascinating and interesting spirituality. The gods of
Scandinavia were most intriguing and fascinating to read about in the
new fiction novel she had been reading, entitled ‘Born of Thunder’,
which was about the god Thor and his wars with Loki. Valhalla had
been invaded by Loki. Many gods had fallen in battle, and only Thor
with his child to Valeriel, Kadros, had been able to withstand the
wrath of Loki in the final battle. Thor had used the horn of
Antharius and summoned the shadow-storm, which could only be summoned
once every 1000 years. The storm’s dark malevolence had overcome Loki
and his minions, and the dark ones had been defeated.



Lucy had been contemplating, having read through some of Shelandragh’s
work on spell-creating, a notion of ‘Shadow-Storm’ as a possible spell
she may, when much older, perhaps work on bringing into the spirit
realm. She, although still young, thought on challenging herself and
aiming high in life. Why should it be, she felt, that only older
wizards and witches be allowed the rights of spell-creating and
seeking out their own dreams and ideas. This apparent rule of magic,
which Shelandragh had insisted upon, she in her young pride seemed
apparently at odds with.



‘Lucy. Come inside. The storm is almost here.’ Lucy gave the grey
clouds a final look and, in response to her teacher’s summoning,
entered the home of ‘Minoxxia’ – Shelandargh’s abode.



* * * * *



‘Now Lucy. What have you learned today?’ Lucy thought on
Shelandragh’s question. ‘Well, I understand that spells are based on
energy. Universal power within the spiritual and physical realms
which, when we concentrate and become psychically aware, we can
utilise for our own resources.’ Shelandragh nodded, pleased that her
young pupil had been paying attention. ‘And how do we become
spiritually aware, young Lucy?’ Through connecting, in some manner,
to the realm of the spirits.’ That is correct, young Lucy. Let me
elaborate on this. For example, in the Christian religion, most
Christians connect to Jesus spiritually, and often with saints and
angels as well. In the Jewish religion, Jews connect most often
straight to God. The same with the Muslims. We witches and wizards
often connect with various types of spirits. Good witches and wizards
often utilize spiritual energy which is available in the spiritual
realm. Sometimes through intelligent beings, often angels and other
spiritual entities, often those who have passed on. Dark wizards
often connect with demons and the most bold and malicious try to
connect with the dark lord himself.’ ‘You mean the Devil, don’t
you?’ ‘Yes young Lucy. The Devil. That spirit is a most ancient and
cunning of spirits, young Lucy. I would caution you most strongly
before you would ever contemplate tangling with the dark lord. He has
many servants and subjects and his motivations are rarely ever aimed
at your good. Most malicious and malevolent is the devil. Other
demonic forces constantly work throughout the spiritual realm, often
at war with angelic beings and other divine forces. This spiritual
realm all flows from the source of our beginning – the creative energy
of God. God is, to wizards and witches, often very different in his
approaches and affections than he is with religious people. He is
more honest and direct with some of us. Sometimes brutally so. A
number of angelic beings have taught me that children of the main
religions are God’s precious children – but that in many ways they
remain that – still children. Their growth and maturity is often
stunted by overly judgmental beliefs, often great pride and division
in their assemblies, and, although they often claim otherwise, an
alarming amount of rejection and overlording towards those not within
their assemblies. They often fail to act in the love which they so
often claim they do. Yet, likewise, we witches and wizards are not
perfect either. I do believe that, regardless of the spiritual or
religious condition of the soul in the heart of man, there are so many
things common to each of us – our humanity – our love – our heart –
which ultimately unites us all. I feel, in the end, if we can exhibit
grace, kindness and charm to all the children of Adam and Eve, this
world could be such a better place.’



Lucy took in all of that information and asked her teacher a
theological question. ‘Are we all really descended from Adam and
Eve?’ ‘A most interesting question, young Lucy. I do not believe in
evolution, but believe in creation. That God created the universe and
earth in 6 days, resting on the 7th. All of the confusion regarding
this issue is from the work of the Serpent – the Devil – in his
confusion he sows into humanity. In the Garden of Eden, the Serpent
tempted our ancient ancestors to partake of the forbidden fruit. The
fruit contained knowledge – forbidden knowledge – which will not give
the kind of life you need. People, in their minds, believe all sorts
of things. All sorts of justifications and views to justify their own
beliefs and their own actions. So much of this knowledge is knowledge
of evil – and because people often vainly cling to these beliefs,
they, as God told Adam and Eve, die in the day they partake of the
knowledge of evil. I am not, as you may have presumed, in my late
50s. I am 378 years old. I have lived so long and healthily because
I understand much of the type of knowledge which the early patriarchs,
Adam, Seth, Enosh and all the way down to Noah, partook of. That is,
knowledge of good. Knowledge of goodness – the fruit of life – leads
to life. It heals the bones, restores the mind, and soothes our
hearts. Yet, in the world we live in, so many people are preoccupied
with knowledge of evil and hatred. In the spirit of love, compassion,
kindness and truth, eternal life – partaking of the tree of life – can
be granted by our God and creator. So, to answer your question,
wether or not we are from Adam and Eve or another group of families
also created in the beginning, the truth of Adam and Eve and the
fundamental lesson in the Garden of Eden remains ever true. Learn
this lesson Lucy – learn the lesson of goodness and life – and your
years may be long indeed.’ Lucy nodded. Her teacher, so she felt,
had just imparted a most important and fundamental lesson. One which
she believed in her heart would chart out her destiny in relation to
God the creator – a being she knew not – but one who aroused her
curiousity.’



* * * * *



Elaine Belloc looked down through the portal of Zaphon, looking at the
mind and heart of young Lucy Potter. Elaine, now 17 years old, who
had just the year before been returned to her true parents, Michael
and Martina Rothchild, after having been raised by the Belloc family.
Elaine had discovered, upon her being taken up to heaven by the
Archangel Raguel, that her parents were actually Angelic beings –
Seraphim – from the Realm of Eternity. Elaine had been welcomed to
heaven, a place she was to be taught lessons for a number of years for
her future responsibilities on planet earth. She had been shown a
number of places around the Realm of Eternity, seeing the major keeps
of Zaphora, Terraphora, and the other realms. Now she studied the
Torah of the Seraphim in Zaphon library.



At one end of the library was the ‘viewing portal’ which allowed the
viewer to see people and lives being lived on planet earth. With this
portal she had often looked at her parents in their everyday lives,
watching them with sincerity, devotion and love.



The angel Raguel had suggested she seek out the child Lucy Potter,
cousin of Harry who had been becoming popular in England, as the child
had a special place in the heart of God and was a unique daughter of
destiny. Raguel had shared with her that Lucy would become a close
friend of herself upon Elaine’s return to earth. And because of this,
Raguel had shown her how to view Lucy through the portal, and
encouraged her to keep her eye on Lucy throughout the next few years.

Elaine’s main concern was the servant of Darvanius – Grimlock – who
she had been watching. He, from the plans she had become aware of,
was intending to move to Cooma to establish himself there and, it
would seem, attempt to corrupt the young Lucy. Elaine had asked
Raguel what, if anything, she could possible do to thwart Grimlock’s
agenda. He had responded that the host of heaven, the angels of
eternity, worked in humanity accomplishing God’s purposes and
objectives. He would, at times, pay special attention to particular
people, and at others let destiny and life settle affairs. He would
intervene often – and often he would leave a situation alone to see
how it would resolve itself. But, so Raguel had maintained, if Elaine
consistently sought out their Father regarding the life of young Lucy,
he would intervene and respond to her requests in the way only God the
eternal being of life could do so.



Elaine had gone to the throneroom of Zaphon and spoken to the eternal
flame burning upon the throneroom. She had spoken nervously.
‘Father. God. What will be with Lucy Potter? The girl in
Australia? Harry’s cousin?’ Silence had responded to her for a
number of moments, after which the eternal spirit of life responded.
‘Dear Elaine. Life has, in some ways, a mystery to it. Plans can be
made, and often, but not always, come to pass. Destiny – an eternal
spirit, being one of the endless of the 7 eternal children –
influences and crafts out lives for many humans and angels alike. Her
child, Fate, also passionately seeks grand culminations and climaxes
to events of life. To often bring things to a grand and glorious
conclusion. Fates aunt, Death, often has the occasional suggestion,
seeking resolutions to conflicts, often most passionately, yet often
in the quiet and gentle way which the daughter of life often seeks to
do. These children – the eternals – have their hand on young Lucy, so
I would encourage you to have no fear for young Lucy, dear grand-
daughter. Have no fear for her.’ The voice of eternity had then gone
silent. Lucy had found the answer, in some ways, to her question.
And, in summation, she sensed that God had simply told her, as perhaps
so many had been told, to have a little faith.



A little later, the dreamlord, one of the 70 eternals, approached
young Lucy. She had seen him in Zaphon from time to time and had
wondered who he was. She had known his name was Daniel, yet he did
not seem the same as the others of the angels. And then Raguel had
told her that Daniel was one of the children of God – the eternals –
who existed prior to the angels. Who existed in a ‘heaven’ they had
never been to or seen, yet who they, the angels of eternity, had known
for many years as those eternal beings who watched over the angels.
‘Elaine. Daughter of Eve. I would have words, if you are currently
not otherwise occupied.’ ‘Yes, Daniel. Please, sit down. Elaine
offered him the seat next to herself in the library of Zaphon.
Daniel began speaking. ‘So, Elaine. Talk to me. Explain yourself.
What is in your heart. Your head. Why do you do what you do? Why do
you ask the questions you ask? Why do you think the way you think?
Who are you in your heart? Are you Elaine Belloc, daughter of the
Archangel, or are you something greater? Something grand and
eternal? Someone who is beyond reproach? Infallible and Almighty?’
‘What is that supposed to mean? asked Elaine, most annoyed at the tone
in the query. ‘Who are you that I should answer to you?’ ‘Dearest
Elaine, who are you that you should ask me that question when I in
fact asked you questions first. Or is hostility to a gentle inquiry
your first response to everything. Perhaps, I would suggest, a little
pride lies in thine heart. A little pride in being the daughter of
Michael. Could I be, perhaps, correct in such a statement?’ Elaine
softened. ‘Well, yes, Daniel. Point taken. I guess perhaps living
here in Zaphon has gone to my head a little.’ Daniel smiled. ‘Well,’
he said, looking at her in a most strange manner. ‘Well what? Asked
Elaine, a little perplexed by the dream lord. ‘Are you going to
answer the question? Or have I offended thine heart, for which, if I
have, I must apologize – even if in word only, for as it is, the heart
is such a cryptic maze of emotion and intensity. Even, sometimes, in
the most frozen and complex of lives.’ Elaine looked at him, a little
puzzled. ‘You’ve lost me, Daniel.’ ‘Oh well. Never mind. Perhaps,
instead of a dialogue most irreconcilable with thine current
preoccupations, we have a game of Chulara. Have you been taught it?’
‘No. But, alright. If you will teach me the rules.’



The daughter of Michael and the eternal dream lord, changing seats in
the library, began a game of the oldest of strategic games within the
Realm of Eternity. Having gone through the rules, and the game have
progressed for a little while, Daniel spoke. ‘Lucy is a most intense
and intelligent young lady, Elaine. My sister, Destiny, has crafted
many ideas and thoughts out for this child. Father will not always
reveal the work he does. Often he will not speak at all, but remain
in his mysterious self, a life he has chosen or perhaps, given our
current level of understanding and behaviour on a communal average,
understood that speaking with us more than necessary is not needed at
our present age. But of course, this is speculation. In an eternal
life, it would seem we have all eternity before us to understand and
comprehend the spirit and nature of our eternal father. But, as I
assume he told yourself, have faith in young Lucy. She will turn out
alright. Those opponents of hers, I am sure, will not prevail. Her
spirit – her love – will see her course her way through life to what
she needs to be and become for herself and those around her. I have
known Lucy for so long now, which may surprise you, but I would tell
you of that another time. Suffice to say that I have faith in Lucy.
Life, strange as it may seem, often ultimately turns out for the
best.’ Elaine looked at Daniel, then looked down at the Chulara
board. ‘I suppose, Dream Lord. I suppose.’



* * * * *



Lucy Potter sat in Centennial park, in the centre of Cooma, alongside
David’s daughter Madalene. Jayden and Georgia, along with Brigid,
were up the road a little, swimming at the town pool. David had just
given them a box of hot chips which they were steadily making their
way through, drinking coke as well. David sat with his cousin,
Houston, on a park bench a little away from Lucy and Madalene.



‘Lucy. I have lived at Chakola all my life and have noticed something
a little strange. Shelandragh, ever since I can remember, never seems
to have aged. She seems the same she has always been. Has she ever
said anything to you about this?’ Lucy stopped munching on her chips,
took a drink of coke, and looked at her best friend Madalene.’ ‘It’s
a secret of life, Madalene. A secret of life. It is plain and most
obvious to everyone, ultimately. But most hidden and cryptic in some
ways as well. Yet, I think, all things will fall into place.’
Madalene looked at her strangely. ‘What the heck do you mean, Lucy?’
‘Oh, I’m just being dramatic Madalene. Something Shelandragh
emphasized to me often embellishes conversations.’ Madalene nodded,
used to hearing various lessons which Lucy passed on from her teacher.



‘Did you see last night’s episode of the Simpsons?’ Asked Lucy.
Madalene smiled. ‘Yes, it was funny. I loved the bit were God showed
to Homer Jesus swinging on a swing.’ Lucy grinned a little. ‘Yes,
that bit was funny. God is really big, and Jesus is normal size.’
‘But you never see his face.’ Said Madalene. Lucy nodded. ‘Very
weird, Maddy. Very weird. Homer was lucky, though. But, of course,
it was just a dream. Just a dream.’



The two of them munched on their chips, continued drinking coke, and
the afternoon, as afternoons, usually and most regularly do, undertook
their steady work of preparing for the evening.





Chapter Four



‘Mr Merryweather’



‘This, Miss Lucy, is Mr Darren Merryweather. He is an old
acquaintance of mine which I have known for a number of years now.’
‘Pleased to meet you, young lady,’ said Mr Merryweather, offering her
his hand. Lucy shook it, and sat down on the seat opposite were
Shelandragh and Darren were sitting. ‘Miss Potter. I am from
Canberra, were I have lived a number of years, undertaking various
responsibilities in magical fields,’ began Mr Merryweather.
‘Shelandragh has asked that I acquaint myself with you to, in a sense,
monitor your progress in the field of magic. Apparently, although I
could not possibly hope to understand why, yet apparently she respects
my opinions on the issue of the magical arts. So, dear young lady, if
you would not object, I will sit in on your lesson today, silently
observing. Do you mind this?’ Lucy shook her head. ‘That is ok, Mr
Merryweather.’



Darren looked at Shelandragh who took one of the books from the pile
of magical books, and opened it up. ‘Lucy. You have been taught a
number of spells, mixing of reagents, spell preparation techniques,
yet it has not escaped my attention that on the fundamental basics
underlying the craft, certain things perhaps need explaining. I spoke
to you the other day regarding spiritual energies available in the
spiritual realm. It is from this realm which we draw the power to
enable our spells purposes to be achieved. This spiritual energy is,
in many ways, very similar to the concept of ‘the force’ which is part
of the Star Wars movies, of which I am sure you are familiar.’ Lucy
nodded, as she had seen Star Wars often. ‘As witches, with our
connections to this realm, we are able to intuitively draw upon
certain spiritual energies and utilise them for our own purposes.
There is a movie featuring Shirley Maclaine which has a scene in which
she becomes spiritually alive and her spirit voyages out from her
body. This is one aspect which many psychics are capable of, with
experience and training, be able to achieve. My own craft, currently
focusing around animistic spirituality, works a little differently.
It is in the mind. The power of the mind. It is done by sensing,
within your body and spirit, the type or kind of spiritual energy you
wish to attract to yourself and to utilise for the purposes you desire
to achieve. It is done by, from your spirit within, something like
magnetic energy being focused from your mind, drawing spiritual energy
to yourself. And you can choose any type of spiritual energy your
mind can possibly conceive of. There is no limit. However, this
spiritual energy needs to be created. Each human being is capable of
creating this spiritual energy with their thoughts, and in fact do
so. What is called an aura reflects the spiritual patterns which have
developed throughout our experiences in life. Most people have a
basic aura, but many have developed one through intense life
experience. This power of creativity is in the heart of each human
and angel – it is born from the creative spirit which the ultimate
creator birthed each of us with. The first chapter of Genesis
explains our nature being based on the creator and angelic beings,
thus we also can partake of this energy, create this energy, and, with
experience and persistence, utilise it for our own purposes. Now,
this energy can be created by yourself in endless patterns. In the
spiritual realm there are virtually infinite spiritual patterns
available to us and, of course, we can create our own spiritual energy
with our thoughts, beliefs, actions and words. This aura within and
without us – our spiritual being – comes forth from the central mind
within – the soul, our true identity – which brings forth everything
we hope for and believe in.’ Lucy nodded at all of that new
information.



Mr Merryweather spoke up. ‘Now, Lucy. This energy and its power and
capabilities can and often are abused greatly by workers of the dark
arts. They, very often, work out on their objective of conquest and
domination. In the revelation of John, the false prophet works
constantly within this idea, bringing forth fire from heaven with the
power of the magic – the dark magic – that he has created. Because of
this, we who are gifted with the ability to utilise spiritual energy
must always be alert. So much harm and damage can be done, and has
been done, by those whose wishes for humanity are not necessarily, and
often opposed, to humanities best interests. It is a grave and
important responsibility, young Lucy. With the flame of energy born
within you, you must act responsibly, maturely and consistently. The
darkness which is alive in the world often seeks to corrupt and
destroy those who are often known as ‘Lightworkers’ and children of
light. Wizards and witches who are not motivated by the power of the
dark, but whose hope and belief is in goodness and love. I hope you
can understand and appreciate the gravity and importance of this
fundamental lesson on spiritual energy and the law of life.’ Lucy,
again, nodded. This lesson was very heavy, even for young Lucy. But
she knew that, as her mother had constantly taught her, accepting the
harder things in life – accepting responsibility – matured the soul
and enabled one to accomplish the things in life which needed to be
accomplished.



* * * * *



Grimlock stood in front of his new storefront, the Dragon’s lair,
which he had just finished renovating in Cooma in the state of New
South Wales, south of Canberra. His master and lord, the dark one
Darvanius, had given him his new agenda. The young witch, Lucy
Potter, was to be persuaded to come over to darkness. To join the
minions of the netherworld in their goal – to rid the world of the
false promises of so called children of light. This goal of Darvanius
was not new. It was ancient. As ancient as the halls of eternity.
Darvanius was the Archangel Saruviel in human form, although he was
not aware of that fact. He was the 7th born of the male Seraphim
angels of the Realm of Eternity.



Prior to mankind’s creation, Saruviel had Fought the Archangel Michael
and the heavenly host most aggressively and passionately in his
attempt to establish, what he knew in his heart, was the true law of
life – the true law of freedom. In those actions, he had justified
much behaviour which his eternal Father had rebuked him for.



Now, as the dark lord Darvanius, who had been uniting the divided
Christian church, his secret agenda – his hidden agenda – was to
ultimately bring his own plan and ideology to dominate the world
stage. This plan rose up in his heart from his youth. It seemed that
the seed the Archangel Saruviel had sown all those years ago in the
Realm of Eternity was bearing fruit now in the universal realm.



And now, in attempting to achieve his objective, the dark lord was
utilising one of his pawns – the malevolent Grimlock – to achieve his
purposes with the cousin of what was becoming a most feared opponent –
the wizard Harry Potter.



In Lucy Potter, he would achieve his dark and glorious ambition. He
would claim the title – the power – the moniker – of divine monarch of
the world. The King, as it were, the first and most important and
glorious King – of a united humanity. In the pursuit of this goal he
would be relentless. He would not tire, not be persuaded to give up,
never rest, until he had achieved all and everything that he desired
to achieve. And in that destiny he planned for himself, the young
miss Lucy Potter could, he felt, play a most significant and useful
role. A most significant role indeed.



Because of this, Grimlock served the dark lord Darvanius. He worked
under his authority to achieve his agendas as, so Grimlock had been
often told, his reward would one day be given. One day he would be
given the justice he deserved for his fidelity to his dark master.



Lucy Potter was to be corrupted. To be persuaded to come over to the
power of darkness – the power of wrath – the power of passion and
intensity – the dark magic. In this magic Grimlock took much and
great delight. It strengthened him, when little else gave him
comfort. It delighted his mind and heart with wicked and dark ideas.
Ideas which gave him much malevolent and sensual pleasure. Yet
Grimlock, in all the time had been training in the dark magic under
Darvanius guidance, had noted something. He had been attracted to the
dark because of the power it offered, but in Darvanius he had found,
while most definitely and continually a pawn of the dark master, yet
found a quite consolation to some of his life’s difficulties.
Darvanius maintained, although he reluctantly used such terminology as
it confused him with his opponents, yet he continually maintained to
Grimlock that his agenda – his purpose – his goal – was not motivated
by evil. Not motivated toward harm, chaos and destruction. These
were, so he had shared with Grimlock, the domain of the darkest lord
of all – the fallen Satan, with whom he had at one time encountered.
‘Satan is the evil one, Grimlock. His goals are in no way moral or
intended towards the good of others. Between him and myself there is
a distinction. A clear and eternal distinction. Make no mistake of
that fact, Grimlock. For if you should ever be tempted to seek out
the darkest of the lords of evil, my wrath you may suffer. And my
punishment towards evildoers is beyond the evil of the dark lord
himself. Forget that not Grimlock. Forget that not.’



* * * * *



Lucy sat at the kitchen table in her home, the schoolhouse, of
Chakola. The textbook which Shelandragh had given her that afternoon
had been interesting reading. A little predictable, in many ways, in
the lessons it was teaching regarding ethics in witchcraft. Lucy
understood clearly her responsibility, now, but a part of her heart
yearned to, perhaps, just be a little bit rebellious. To go out and
do her own thing in the magical realm, regardless of the cautions of
her teachers. She had, for the last hour, been trying to understand
the concept of spell-creation and the necessary mind processes to
create spiritual energy in the magical realm. She had listened
intently to Shelandragh’s word’s, and had been thinking them over in
the last few hours. The spell she had thought about creating before,
the one which had been birthed from the Asatru novel ‘Born of Thunder’
– the idea of the spell ‘Shadow Storm’. She had understood from
various spell texts she had been studying that the ‘Shadow Realm’ was
a place between the netherworld and her world, almost akin to the
concept of ‘Limbo’ or ‘Purgatory’. Perhaps, she thought, she may try
to seek out the spiritual energy available in the Shadow Realm, and
utilise it for the creation of the ‘Shadow Storm’ spell. At this
stage she was not quite sure how she would achieve this result, but
with persistence and patience she felt she may be able to achieve,
hopefully, some interesting results. The only spells she knew to
connect to the Shadow Realm were ‘Shados’, also known as the Shadow
Life, as well as ‘Shados Redux’, which, apparently, returned something
or someone who had been cast into the Shadow Realm to the physical
realm. She had, in coming up with a name for the Shadow Storm spell
in the ancient spellcasting language, had researched an ancient
character which the book of spells containing ‘Shados’ and ‘Shados
Redux’ had been connected to. An ancient wizard, who had first
connected to what he later called the Shadow Realm, Shadorius, seemed
to be an appropriate person to name the spell after in the
spellcasting language. She, having recalled the earlier water spell
she had cast, known as Hydros Conflagius and Aquarius Tempest, had
decided to name the spell using part of the name of one of these
spells, deciding that ‘Tempest’ seemed the best choice. So the spell
which she would bring into existence would be ‘Shadorius Tempest’.



She had been, in thinking about how to bring the spell into being,
first studied the techniques for casting ‘Shados’ and ‘Shados Redux’
and then began studying ‘Aquarius Tempest’. Perhaps it may be as
simple a process as combining aspects of the ‘Shados’ spell, with the
‘Tempest’ part of ‘Aquarius Tempest’, that could achieve success in
birthing the spell into existence.



Having taken a notebook she began writing down the process for the
‘Shados’ spell, as well as, as best as she could understand, the
‘Tempest’ aspect of the ‘Aquarius Tempest’ spell.



Of course, when she had the procedure for casting the spell worked
out, it still seemed that it would require the necessary magical
energy. This, for young Lucy, was still a bit problematic, as she had
not yet quite grasped everything Shelandragh and Darren had explained
to her. But she would think this over and persist, as her mother
constantly encouraged her to. Perhaps in a year or so, with some
further questions to her teacher, she may understand some of the
basics of spell creation. Perhaps then she would have what was
required to bring her vision into reality. Perhaps then.



* * * * *



Madalene, sitting on the lounge in the mainroom of her families home
in Calwell in Canberra, looked over at her brother as he was watching
television. Jayden was intently watching the ‘Ben 10’ cartoon,
something which he had grown to like. Madalene thought ‘Ben 10’ was a
bit young for herself now, preferring ‘Home and Away’ and some of the
comedies on television to what she thought was now ‘Kid’s stuff’. She
wondered if Jayden would also grow out of the cartoons. She didn’t
really care, though. Kids liked cartoons. That was normal for
everyone. But Madalene, looking at young Lucy, wondered if there were
perhaps more important things in life. Subjects which gave life a
greater intensity. A greater passion. Magic seemed interesting to
Madalene. But she knew magic did not run in her family. And,
apparently, it was extremely rare for a child to develop the craft
unless one of her parents had the gift. Because of that she was a
little jealous of her friend Lucy, envious of the talents and gifts
that seemed to have been given to her. Madalene, having take Lucy’s
name in confirmation at her church, had sat in church one night, while
her parents were outside talking with other members in the family
after the baptism of her new cousin Amelia, had prayed to God asking
him if she could also be given the gifts that Lucy had been given.
That prayer had been a while ago and nothing had really happened in
response so far. But, strangely, she had noticed a few things –
strange things – which had been happening around her. She had often
felt shivers along her legs and her arms. And she thought that she
had, a number of times, seen a ghost in the hallway of her home,
floating around late at night. This worried her a little. She
wondered if the prayer she had prayed to God had been the right thing
to do. Perhaps God did not want her to be magical. Perhaps it was
not something that should be part of her life. Yet, her curiousity
remained and she had decided she would talk to Shelandragh about what,
if any, magical abilities that Muggles may be able to achieve. It
certainly seemed to be worth at least asking her best friend’s
teacher.



Chapter Five



‘The Stoned Philosophers’



‘The shepherd of the soul? What the hell does that mean Looshy?’
Lucy laughed at the slurred voice Houston, David’s cousin, was
speaking in. She had shared with him a passage from Ezekicl chapter
34 about David the Shepherd of Israel and had compared him to the
shepherd of the soul. Houston, who seemed to be an agnostic with some
sort of vague belief in God had been spouting out various philosophies
on life, the other stoned philosophers being David and David’s dad,
old man Barry. These three wise men had been discussing the great and
grand meanings of life and what it all meant for the last two hours,
steadily and devotedly consuming their most fierce passion for life –
the beloved Tooheys. Lucy had been listening intently to the
conversations, most intrigued by the wide variety of subjects which
the three stoned philosophers seemed adroit at discussing and
contemplating. Houston had been discussing a conversation he’d had
with David’s brother in law, Daniel, who lived up in Canberra. Daniel
had been preaching the Noahide faith to Houston, who found it
interesting, but not converting material. Yet it had been an
interesting conversation and Houston was sharing with the other stoned
philosophers the true grand meaning of life. Evolution was
discussed. So were certain ideas regarding human sexuality which
seemed to be, from what Lucy had noted since living in Chakola, a
favourite topic of the stoned philosophers. Her mother had
reprimanded Lucy on one occasion for listening to the often quite
brazen conversations of the stoned philosophers, but had after a while
allowed her daughter to be exposed to their conversations.



‘King David is the Shepherd of the Soul, Houston.’ Lucy stated quite
plainly. ‘Shounds bloody good to me,’ said David, raising a toast to
the ancient Israelite King. Barry, who had a basic biblical
knowledge, began recounting the famous encounter between David and
Goliath. The subject of Goliath’s actual size came up, Barry
insisting that the biblical description was exaggeration, as the whole
Bible quite obviously seemed to be. The conversation was intense and
most interesting for young Lucy to observe. After Barry and Houston
had settled the issue that Goliath was probably a midget, much to
David’s annoyance, they had all taken yet another beer in what had
become a standard Friday night occurrence.



* * * * *



Three other stoned philosophers were lying down in Centennial Park,
gazing up at the sky, high on their drug of choice, the still illegal
marijuana. Bradrick, Jack and Marty, three of Cooma’s most
disrespected lowlifes, were doing their usual Friday night routine of
getting high and letting the usual mundanity of the terror of life
pass on by. They had been lying there that night, the subject of
conversation one of their favourite discussion points, the scene of
the desert in the ‘Doors’ movie, starring Val Kilmer. This most
inspiring scene had led the three lowlives to pursue, valiantly, the
experience offered by man’s true best friend – their drug of choice –
which helped them escape from what was often the hell and isolation of
their solitary existences. The three of them shared a flat up the
road from Centennial Park, were they spent most of their days. They
lived on the Centrelink allowance, usually to zonked out on drugs to
ever do anything really useful with their lives. But, this life that,
for many people, often came to such a harsh and bitter state of
existence, was persevered with simply because of the money that came
through regularly and the availability of their required pastime
supplies from local distributors. These three stoned philosophers
were, in many ways, real blokes of Australia. They adored the
cricket, which they watched with passion. They drank beer. And they
got high. Every few months, Bradrick would drive them up to Fyshwick
in Canberra to visit the ladies for that other necessary component in
their harsh existence.



These three philosophers, laying there, were oblivious to the
malevolent Grimlock who watched them from behind a tree a number of
metres away. Grimlock had decided, against his dark lords wishes, to
enhance his powers with the use of a spell which was most evil and
deadly in nature. ‘Parasitis Zoe’, a most vicious and awful of
spells, literally sucked the spiritual energy out of its victims and
brought it into the spiritual aura of the one casting the spell. It
was one of the ancient and most evil of spells and Grimlock had been
at first reluctant to use it, given the attitude his dark lord would
respond with should he ever find out. But, in his pride, he had
decided to cast the spell to draw energy into his vortex of Spirit, to
give him the necessary means and powers to forward his own private and
personal objectives. The three philosophers would, so Grimlock felt,
make perfect victims. They were zonked – they would have no ability
whatsoever to resist his dark might. Carefully, he approached them,
and began the works of the spell.



A number of minutes later, Grimlock looked down on the lifeless
corpses of the three stoned philosophers. In his malevolent heart he
pitied them a little, yet the reward which he now felt so strongly in
his vortex was to great a reward to have passed up. He looked
around. Nobody was present, but someone could appear at any time. He
had best leave the scene at once to ensure there was no connection
between himself and the now lifeless corpses. As he walked up the
main street of Cooma, returning to his flat, he felt the new energy
surge through his body. The power within him now was extremely
strong. He sensed the natures and memories of the stoned
philosophers, yet banished them from his heart. He cared not for the
memories of such pathetic souls, yet would delight in the dark power
he now possessed. It was delightful, so the malevolent Grimlock felt,
to partake of such power. To partake of and delight in the most evil
of spells.



* * * * *



Jerry, Ty and Doug put the finishing touches to their new album. ‘The
Stoned Philosophers.’ The trio, known as the Xtreme Kings, were an
established band in the metal scene of Cooma. Although this was not
necessarily the greatest of accomplishments as the Cooma metal scene
consisted of the Xtreme Kings and a drunk guy up the road who let it
rip on the guitar late at nights, belting out extremely bad
Guns’n’Roses licks. But the Xtreme Kings were determined to have
success. They had goals. They were gonna ‘kick ass’ and ‘go for
broke’ to get a name for themselves. They were not just kings – but
‘Xtreme Kings’. There new album, their second, following a most
unmonumental first release, did seem to the band a vast improvement.
It almost, strangely enough, seemed like a reasonable metal album.
Perhaps not quite up to the standard of some of the legendary material
they often covered by some of the classical metal artists, the
production values obviously lacking due to their low budget. But the
riffs and melodies seemed to each of them quite cool. They felt, if
they were to ever have any impact in Australia in metal, this album
would probably be there best starting point. The album title had come
from the three stoned philosophers who regularly hung out in
Centennial Park in the centre of Cooma. The Kings knew the guys and
occasionally smoked dope with them, but not to the degree that the
philosophers did.



The album seemed good. The first track was perhaps the albums killer
track. Entitled ‘Primal emotion’, it related the absolute savagery of
the heart and human existence. It was honest and, so the band felt,
quite cutting edge. It may even chart in Australia, if the record
company agreed to proceed with their second album which was not
guaranteed but an option which was in their contract with them.



They had put the finishing touches to the album, when their part-time
manager burst into their small studio. ‘Guys, fuck, I mean. Guys I
have some fucking bad news dudes. The philosophers are fucking dead.
I mean they are fucking dead. Like totally and completely fucking
dead.’ The Kings looked at their manager, a look of concern
apparent. Jerry spoke up. ‘What do you mean their dead?’ ‘The
police are at the Park and they have put up barriers preventing people
from entering. Everyone has been saying that the philosophers have
karked it.’ Doug looked at the two other kings, and went over to a
bench to sit down. ‘Now that fucking sucks, don’t it.’



A little later on, having come to terms with the bad news, the Kings
began work on a new track in homage to the philosophers. Simply
titled ‘Afterlife’ it would hopefully speak of the friendship they had
developed with the departed souls, ones which had inspired the title
of their album. But the mood was sombre and the Kings could not
finish the track. A darkness had entered the house of the Xtreme
Kings, and perhaps all throughout Cooma. A darkness of ancient evil,
most malicious and malevolent in its intent. Most malicious indeed.



* * * * *



Darren Merryweather looked across the street at the shop which had
just opened up. He had noticed it immediately and looking at the sign
reading ‘The Dragon’s Lair’ Darren felt that something he had
previously feared was perhaps coming to pass. His instincts told him
straight away that Grimlock was inside the shop, having moved from his
store in Hobart. And Darren, almost instantly, knew why. Grimlock
would be seeking out the child Lucy for his own purposes, whatever
they may be. In Australia, the witch and wizard community was not
that large, nowhere near the size of the established communities in
England. News of the cousin of the popular Harry had obviously
reached Grimlock, who had obviously sought out young Miss Potter for
whatever purposes he had in mind. Darren felt, now, that these
purposes were not aimed at the good of Lucy. That Grimlock had
perhaps shown his hand which had been hidden so far and confirmed the
suspicions that the ministry of magic had in him.



He walked over to the store and looked inside through the front
window. He spied Grimlock inside, working at the counter, and moved
away quickly so as not to be seen. So it was indeed him. He wondered
silently to himself wether Grimlock perhaps had some sort of
association with the recent deaths in the Park in the centre of town.
If it were true that he was seeking out young Lucy, and that not for
good, perhaps those three poor souls who had passed on had, in some
way, come into contact with Grimlock and not for their good. But, of
course, this was only speculation. Grimlock, in the encounters he’d
had with him, seemed a wily sort of character, but did not really, in
the end, seem given over to that kind of darkness. The kind that
would actually take the life of another’s soul. Perhaps it was simply
coincidence. Perhaps that was all it was. Yet Darren would exercise
caution in his duties to watch over Lucy. And if Grimlock ever came
on the scene he would need to be prepared to respond in whatever
manner such a situation called for, to the possible servant of the
dark arts.

* * * * *



Alfric read through the correspondence he had received from Darren
Merryweather, a letter received a few moments ago in the mail. It
seemed perhaps quite alarming that Grimlock had now moved to Cooma.
Darren’s suspicions and their earlier investigation, while halted due
to lack of evidence, would most definitely now need to be proceeded
with. It appeared quite obvious to Alfric that dark forces were at
work. Dark powers were using Grimlock to accomplish malevolent and
evil purposes. Alfric, as head of the ministry of magic in Australia,
had received regular correspondence from the various ministries
worldwide. In the last few years dark forces had been growing in
their malicious activities and the passion for evil, once thought
almost dead by the ministry, had reignited and was approaching, it
felt, some sort of climax. In the world today, Passion, was growing.
It felt that in so many ways in society and in the world, a grand and
great plot seemed to be approaching its conclusion. As if the powers
that be had been steadily working towards a conclusion of things. An
ultimate climax to chains of events, perhaps, started in days of
ancient times.



Alfric had attended a number of seminars in Christian churches
recently regarding the ‘end of days’. The Schwarzenegger movie had
been most intriguing when he had first seen it, but it had come and
gone with little fanfare. But, now it seemed, the dark spirits talked
of in that movie were, perhaps, at work to accomplish their objectives
and realize their ultimate goal of world control. The darkest of all
the lords of evil – the dreaded Antichrist – his fearful and most
malicious work seemed to be steadily underway. And this work Alfric
worked steadfastly and faithfully against. He was not, really,
Christian in nature or belief in a fundamental kind. Yet he did
believe in the creator and felt that the themes and ideas of the
apocalyptic literature served a purpose in the grand design. The
spiritual and magical energies of the universe worked steadily towards
achieving their goals – and the prophetic realities of the biblical
texts were born, so Alfric had concluded, of spiritual energy at
play. He looked forward. He contemplated the future. And he felt
that, while there was still much goodness in the world, darkness was
now drawing up its reserves and strengths. Dark magic had been alive
for aeons. Good wizards had always been around, but the servants of
darkness had fought and opposed them for countless centuries. But now
the power of darkness was spreading, infecting the souls and hearts of
so many people. A particular concern was the growing popularity of
‘death metal’ which emphasized hatred of God and goodness, practically
preaching death and destruction. He had seen many youths affected by
such music, often causing quite severe psychological damage. This
music had influenced many dark magicians and wizards to practice their
dark arts with even greater evil and hatred. It seemed that portents
of destruction were present in the world. That the dark lord of
ancient evil was at work and striving to achieve his most ancient of
goals – control and domination of the entire world order. The most
disturbing aspect of the seminars he had recently seen was the
theology regarding the mark of the beast – the power of the number
666. The teacher of the seminar taught that a microchip implanted in
the right hand or the forehead, which enabled a universal economic
system to be completely controlled and buying and selling of goods far
better organised, especially with security concerns, would quite
probably appear in the world in the not too distant future. This
electronic mark was the mark of the beast. Through it the Antichrist
and the False Prophet could gain control over the new world order.



All of this information was, to Alfric, most disturbing. Most
alarmingly disturbing. The evil within the heart of mankind was
coming to a head. And an ending known throughout Christendom’s long
history, yet recently gone quiet about, simply known as the ‘Great
Tribulation’ was perhaps close at hand. And that tribulation Alfric
feared. If it were to come, life as he knew it would cease. The
world he knew would fade away and be no more. But, the good news was
that the Kingdom would be born. The eternal Kingdom of the creator
would begin a millennial reign. And the powers of light – the Christ
and the Angelic host – would rule over a restored paradise. If that
were to actually eventuate, the tribulation, it would seem, would
serve its purpose.



Alfric looked out of the window of his office in the ministry
offices. Canberra life was steadily going through its everyday
routine. For now, all seemed fine. All seemed fine and well. But in
the not too distant future what strange new ways awaited. What
strange new law beckoned for the world he knew as home.





Chapter Six



“The Dragon Attacks”



Rhaemlius Tornanda Daverion, the Wyvvern of Canberra, awoke. She was
hungry. Oh so hungry. And with a passion. The fire had awoken in
her veins. The fire of hunger for new blood. New life. New food.



She had slept, as usual, a millennium. This was her standard sleeping
pattern she had established since the dawn of youth – the dawn of her
creation – in the early days of life of Terra, from were she had
emerged to come to the far lands, a place no Wyvvern or dragon seemed
to be. She had fed then, in those dark and early days, on the
children of the dreamtime lord’s flesh. The dark skinned ones whose
meat fed her and sustained her in her lonely existence. Last
millennia she had mated. Dracorion Tashnay Daverion, whose name she
had taken, had given her seed. And she had sensed within her body
twins. Two new wyverns for the community of wyvverndom. She further
sensed their sexes – a male and a female. This was good news. Most
delightful and joyful good news. When they had grown she would return
to Terra and seek out Dracorion to display her pride, the new children
of Rhaemlius.



She emerged from her hidden cave, coming out into the trees
surrounding the entrance to the cave, along the mountains which the
dark skinned ones knew as the Brindabellas.



She headed south, to the place she knew food would be available, not
to far a flight for one such as herself, a place were she could gorge
herself and enjoy the awakening time for a number of years before
again returning to her slumber. In those years she would raise and
teach the children which she would birth later that day.



Flying along she looked downwards. A new and strange road seemed to
have been made. Perhaps it would prove useful to follow along. She
spied a number of strange structures, something which she had never
really observed previously in her life. Yet, they were a curiousity
only. Food was needed. After a long flight, she spied a
conglomeration of the structures. And around them she spied the food
she sought. Although not the dark skinned ones, but rather pale
skins. Still, they would do for food. One was as good as another.



* * * * *



Lucy, Shelandragh and Darren were sitting in front of Michelago
general store, sipping on coke and eating through hamburgers.
Michelago was about 50 kilometres north of Chakola, south of
Canberra. Darren had suggested they travel up to the small town to
spend some time simply enjoying life and to have a meal. They would
spend some time discussing magic in a new and interesting location.



Lucy was enjoying her hamburger. It was with the ‘Lot’ with extra
bacon, which she always enjoyed. She also had some hot chips, but she
had not really bothered with them, only taking a few. Darren was in
conversation with Shelandragh, discussing basic animistic aspects
relating to Michelago. The spirit realm in Michelago was gentle and
peaceful – soul-restoring and calmly refreshing. This was often the
spiritual energy which country towns in Australia had associated with
them. They had both noticed the presence of angelic beings and
demonic forces who were engaged in a heated matter over by the
Catholic Church up the road a little. One of their, it would seem,
regular wars for territory and power.



Other spirits were present near them as well, especially a cheeky
young Dryad who had made herself known to Darren to ask him who he
was. Lucy was now used to seeing various spiritual beings appear.
These were not usually noticeable by muggles, who were not gifted with
the same spiritual awareness which those of the craft had been blessed
with. Earlier that morning, after having been asked some questions by
Madalene on the concept of spiritual awareness, Lucy had been reading
through the New Testament in various passages. One of the gifts of
God’s spirit was discernment of spirits which, she felt, if the spirit
blessed further would give awareness of the spirit realm. The idea of
the gifts of the spirit of 1 Corinthians chapter 12, Lucy felt also
had counterparts in the spiritual realm of witchcraft and wizardry.
The abilities of spell-creation, magic manipulation, animistic
awareness and other such gifts were, it seemed to Lucy, also a gift
from the divine spirit of life, something akin to the gifts which the
ecclesia – the church – also possessed. Darren had been talking about
a Pentecostal church he had attended in conversation with Lucy earlier
that morning. He had felt spiritual beings present in the Assembly,
often surrounding him with the spirit of love, but often spirits of
passion and fire as well. The experience had been uplifting to
Darren, and he had asked God for an appropriate blessing of God’s
choosing to be given to him in the Assembly. Since then, he had felt
the divine spirit of fire in work in his heart and mind, giving him
new understandings and appreciation for the life of eternity which
each human being was birthed with. Further, it illuminated his mind
to the truth that spiritual awakening, often known as the new birth
experience within Pentecostalism, was entering the outside world
beyond the realms of Christendom. It was through such avenues as the
New Age movement and even traditional witchcraft and wizardry that the
divine spirit of life – the eternal fire – was entering the hearts of
all the children of the eternal, renewing them and helping them
overcome their own difficulties and problems in the spirit of love and
kindness and respectful affection which the divine fire eternally
displayed. The fire within Darren had filled his mind with the idea
of communicating this new reality –this spiritual awakening – within
the hearts of the magical community to the great eternal creative
source. Other spiritual beings, which pagans and other religions
sought out for peace, had slowly over the great number of centuries
since the beginning of the great powers work of unification, been
calling these deities to a place of peace, love and redemption.
Ancient Canaanite gods, who had once suffered the wrath and fury of
the Almighty Father had been forgiven and had now accepted the
authority of the eternal power. These Canaanite gods had gone forth
into the community of the ‘gods’ to bring the good news of unity, love
and peace. The God of the ancient covenant, the eternal ‘Ehyeh Asher
Ehyeh’ had sought peace and grace in the reawakening amongst the
spiritual communities of mankind. One of his once fallen children,
ancient Baal, whose priests had once been so savagely slaughtered by
the zealous Israelite prophet Elijah, had repented of his rebellion
against the Almighty, accepted the truth that his own authority could
not and never could challenge the eternal creators spirit, and had
gone forth to put his house in order. Other Canaanite deities, such
as Mot and Asherah had also fallen into line. And the spiritual
awakening had gone on throughout the realms of the gods. Yet, of
course, not without opposition. The ultimate lord of evil, the dark
power Satan, continued to reject the offer of resolution which the
Almighty perpetually offered to him, instead seeking out the grand
destiny of his own servants, the demonic forces, to accomplish his
goal of world rulership. Various deities, such as Zeus, Jupiter and
Mars, and various others, had cautiously come into alliance with the
Almighty, sensing the ultimate threat of the dark lord in the
potential havoc he could unleash upon their dominions. Ancient Greek
and Roman gods, having been passive for many centuries under the
authority of Jesus the Christ, had finally broken his yoke in the
Tradition of Edom and Jacob, and been accepted again in their standing
in the divine community. And peace had ensued, yet, of course, the
threat of the dark lord remained ever present.



After sitting a while, Lucy noticed suddenly a large shadow pass over
herself, Shelandragh and Darren. Looking up she jumped when she saw,
what would be, her first gaze upon a dragon. Alarmed she shouted to
Darren and Shelandragh to look at the dragon in the sky. Shelandragh
instantly identified the beast. ‘It is the Wyvvern from Canberra,
Darren. The one who dwells under the city. I fear it has emerged and
is hungry. We must capture it now. This type of Wyvvern feeds on
human flesh. If we can communicate with it we must persuade it to
partake of sheep and cattle instead.’ ‘And if it refuses?’ asked
Darren. ‘Then we will have to kill it Darren.’ Darren nodded.
Shelandragh looked at Lucy. ‘Lucy. You go inside the store. It will
not be safe while we pursue the dragon. You could become a victim.
Now go girl. Hurry. Lucy dutifully obeyed her teacher, and entered
the store, quickly going over to the side window to see if she could
spy the Wyvvern.



Darren and Shelandragh went to the car in which they had driven up to
Michelago from Bunyan, Darren’s four wheel drive, and opening the back
door, grabbed their broomsticks.



A short time later, Darren and Shelandragh were slowly gaining on the
dragon, who had been circling around Michelago, perhaps studying out a
potential victim. As they neared, the Wyvvern spotted them and opened
its mouth, breathing fire in their direction. Shelandragh yelled out
‘Hydros’, and a torrent of water went forth, extinguishing the blaze
the dragon had bellowed out. She yelled to Darren. ‘This breed needs
a number of minutes to replenish the chemicals to breathe fire again.
Our time may be short. I will approach the Dragon and speak to it.
Go over to the side of it and be ready to strike if needs be.’ The
Dragon, flapping wings, hovering before them considered its options.
These pale skins, it felt, could make suitable food. She decided to
attack the female who had come forward in front of her. Before the
attack though, she sensed the creature communicating with her mind.
‘Golden ridged Wyvvern. You must cease in your intentions. Humanity
has grown strong now. We no longer fear dragons and are quite capable
of fighting and slaying them. We know you need food and suggest you
partake of the sheep and cattle which are all over this region.’ The
Dragon considered these words, before responding. ‘Why should I
believe you, human, when creatures such as yourself make such
delicious food. Nay, I think ye lie to myself. A ruse to trap me and
enslaven me to your desires.’ ‘I speak truly, dragon. We are quite
capable of defeating you. We are ancient spellcasters, and have a
long history of studying creatures as yourself. Our arsenal of
magical power can easily defeat and slay creatures such as yourself.
Of this being the case you can most definitely stand assured.’ The
dragon looked at the creature but decided not to bother with any
further conversation. She was hungry, and this human creature would
suffice for a beginning to her feeding. She launched forward, ready
to swallow the creature, which instantly flew out of reach.



Shelandragh looked at Darren and yelled out. ‘I don’t think our
approach is working. The Dragon does not care about what I have
said. It just wants to eat.’ ‘What do we do?’ Darren yelled back.
‘I really don’t want to kill it. This breed is extremely rare, but we
have little other option at the moment.’ Darren thought on that.
‘Perhaps if we try to capture it, a solution can come later.’
Shelandragh nodded. ‘Okay,’ as she flew out of the reach of another
of the dragon’s lunges.



‘Freefall’, yelled Shelandragh at the Dragon, in one of her own
created spells. The Wyvvern started flapping its wings a lot more
violently in response to the magical energy which had come upon it,
and slowly feeling the weight, began falling down to the ground.’ It
hit the dirt with a loud thud, and lay there, apparently contemplating
its next move.



Darren and Shelandragh flew down and stood in front of the Dragon.
Shelandragh spoke. ‘Creature. I warned you about our powers. We
will prevail against you if you persist in your madness. Cease, and
accept our offer of sheep and cattle.’ The dragon looked malevolently
at this cursed creature who was controlling it and, sensing it’s fire
breathing chemicals now restored, breathed out quick, more ferocious
flame, in Shelandragh’s direction. This time, while Shelandragh was
again able to respond with ‘Hydros’, the flames managed to burn much
of her clothing, singing her hair and burning some of her scalp. It
hurt like hell. She retreated a distance and, in a sudden moment of
vengeance, screamed to Darren. ‘Kill the creature, Darren. It is the
only thing we can do.’ Darren nodded and cast the spell ‘Magmas’ at
the dragon. A flame of fire came forth from Darren’s wand, burning a
savage hole into the Dragon’s flesh. It yelled in pain, screaming in
agony. Darren really did not like to finish the encounter like this,
but sensed little other option.



Shelandragh came over to stand next to Darren as the Dragon began its
death throes. Strangely, though, it managed to stand to its feet and
began making a thrusting motion with its body. Looking on intently,
Shelandragh and Darren saw two large eggs, first one, then the other,
emerge from the Dragon. And then, after a final heave, the dragon
collapsed on the ground, slowly sinking down to the halls of the dead.



The eggs began shaking. Cracks started appearing, and emerging from
them came forth two young dragons. They came forth, looking at their
fallen mother, and puzzling over the two human creatures before them.



Darren looked at Shelandragh. ‘We can not kill them as well,
Shelandragh. I am afraid we will have to take care of them. They are
our responsibility now.’ Shelandragh nodded, still in pain over the
singe, and in a state of anxiety over the now fallen dragon.



Darren approached the dragons, who were around a metre in length each,
and began the process of making friends. The dragons looked at him in
their fresh innocence, perhaps thinking him some sort of parent
figure. Darren, thinking over lessons of bonding he had learned,
looked at the dragons, and started walking away from them, his eyes
still fixed upon them. In their first steps of life, the dragons
began following him, like obedient young ducklings. He spoke to
Shelandragh. ‘They’re following me. If we can get them to the car,
we can take them down to Chakola. They should be safe there.
Shelandragh nodded, still wincing at the pain.



They walked, carrying their broomsticks, the few hundred metres over
the field they had been in, climbing over a wire fence and returning
to the store. A number of people from the store peered on with grave
looks on their faces, not sure what to make of in the sudden
appearance of dragons. Lucy stood near the car, and Shelandragh and
Darren, with the dragons following, asked Lucy to open the back door
to the four wheel drive, which she did so in response. Darren managed
to lift each of the dragons into the back of the car, and the three of
them got inside and very hastily made there way away from the store,
heading out of Michelago, back down to Chakola.





Chapter Seven



‘Goldie and Silver’



Lucy smiled at the two dragons as they played with each other, trying
to bite each others ears. They were both golden ridged wyverns, yet
the female of the twins had a silver streak further down along her
spine, going down along the tail. Because of this Lucy had named the
dragons ‘Goldie’ and ‘Silver’.



Goldie was, in his youth, a savage and aggressive young Dragon. He
fought Silver most passionately and fiercely. He would not relent or
be persuaded from his attacks upon her until he had achieved his
will. Silver usually avoided Goldie’s attacks but often, when too
greatly provoked, established her own space and responded to the often
malicious attacks of the passionate Goldie.



Lucy, with Shelandragh and Darren looking on, got on the back of
‘Goldie’ who cautiously began walking around the back yard of
Shelandragh’s house. ‘Do you think, when he has grown a little, he
may be able to fly with myself sitting on his back?’ ‘Perhaps, young
Lucy,’ said Shelandragh. ‘Dragonriding is popular throughout Europe
amongst many witches and wizards, yet we are very careful to make sure
that muggles rarely, if ever, notice us. There are certain spells we
use to ensure privacy, which I will teach you one day, but not for
now. Goldie and Silver are still too young to fly, and won’t be able
to for a while.’ ‘How long will that be?’ asked Lucy. Shelandragh
thought on that question, and turned to Darren. ‘I’m not sure with
Golden ridged wyverns how long till they can fly. Have you any
idea?’ ‘Dragons are not my specialty, Shelandragh. Nor wyverns, for
that matter. I think, Lucy, that the dragons will fly when nature
teaches them to fly. Eagles when young are often nudged out of their
mother’s nest to get them started, so the same may be true with
dragons. I am sure when they are ready, they will know what to do.’
Lucy looked down at Goldie. ‘Well, Goldie. Do you think you and me
could one day take to the skies?’ The dragon, for the first time in
its life, opened its mouth and spit out a few sparks of fire.’ Lucy
jumped. Shelandragh and Darren both grinned. ‘Perhaps that was not
the answer you were looking for, Lucy,’ said Shelandragh. ‘As long as
that doesn’t happen when we are in the air I won’t really mind,
Shelandragh.’



The dragon started walking around the yard, Lucy on top, and began
flapping its wings a little. The Dragons wings, over the last few
days, had grown quite rapidly. Goldies wings were largely black like
his mother’s, but there were streaks of Gold and Silver and a dark
metallic greenish colour in various streaky patches splayed over the
wings. Silver looked similar, but she had dark blue, instead of the
greenish colour on her wings. Shelandragh had stated to Lucy that
this trait was likely inherited from the dragon’s father, as their
mother was all black, apart from the Golden spine. Both of the
Dragon’s tongues were bright red, common amongst that breed. They ate
the bales of hay that Shelandragh fed them by licking it up with their
tongues. Shelandragh also fed them various fruits and vegetables, for
a balanced diet.



‘Can we have a go now?’ asked Jayden, who had been sitting with his
sisters on the back porch, anxiously waiting their turn. ‘Come on
Lucy,’ said Darren. ‘Its Jayden’s turn.’ Lucy nodded and got on
Goldie. ‘Come on Goldie. Walk this way.’ Lucy led Goldie over to
Jayden, who climbed up with a big smile on his face. ‘Fly Goldie.
Flap your wings,’ said Jayden, anxious to see if the dragon would
obey. ‘She’s not going to fly, you dork,’ said Madalene. ‘Shut up
Maddie. She can fly. Flap your wings Goldie.’ Georgia pulled on
Shelandragh’s coat. ‘Can Goldie fly,’ she asked, in her usual faint
voice. ‘Probably not until she is older, Georgia.’ ‘You have 5
minutes, Jayden, then it is my turn,’ said Madalene. Don’t forget I
am counting.’ ‘Whatever,’ said Jayden.



Half an hour later, after David’s children had each had a turn, the
kids were in the loungeroom of Shelandragh’s house playing monopoly,
while Darren and Shelandragh were sitting at the kitchen table,
drinking tea.



‘Of course, Wyvvern’s can be quite dangerous as they get older. Like
all wild animals, they have a fierce spirit which is often difficult
to train.’ Darren nodded at Shelandragh’s comments. ‘Do you think
this will possibly endanger Lucy?’ ‘Not yet. Wyvvern’s are extremely
intelligent and can communicate in any known language. Their brains
work intuitively to understand the sense of what is being spoken or
said by someone or something approaching them. They can understand
every human language and all animal forms of communication. They
generally rival mankind in intelligence in this respect. Because of
this, we have the opportunity to teach Goldie and Silver while they
are young. If we can instil within them a sense of respect for human
life, we can go a long way to taming their savagery. They could, over
the long term, prove very useful companions to Lucy.’ ‘How do they
speak?’ ‘Their minds send out a form of psychic energy which the
listener hears in his or her mind. Dark wyverns and dragons can, if
they so choose, use an extreme amount of willpower to almost control
the mind and thoughts of their adversaries. They are a most fierce
opponent because of this.’ ‘When should we start trying to teach
them?’ ‘I think in a few weeks they should be developed enough for
our first instructive lessons. Anyway, another cup of tea?’ Darren
nodded and Shelandragh poured out for Mr Merryweather another cup of
the finest Lady Grey.



* * * * *



Lindsay smiled at Lucy’s comment. ‘Yes, Lucy. I like the car as
well.’ ‘It looks just like Herbie, Lindsay,’ said Lucy. ‘Yes. That
was intentional. The number 53 is Herbie’s number, so I thought I
would decorate my bug in the same fashion as Herbie.’ ‘Are you really
going to race it up in the festival in Canberra?’ ‘I don’t really
know for sure, Lucy. I was thinking of entering the car more as a
funny joke or something humorous. But the organizers didn’t mind, so
I may show up. I haven’t mind up my mind, though.’ ‘You really
should enter the competition, Lindsay. I think you could come
first.’ ‘Come first? Yeh, it would be nice to come first.’ ‘What do
you call the car, Lindsay?’ ‘Well, Herbie of course, Lucy. What else
could I possibly call it?’



Lindsay was a friend of David and Brigid’s, who had driven out to
Chakola to show her new Volkswagen bug to David’s kids and Lucy.



‘Can we have a go in riding with you, Lindsay?’ asked Jayden.
‘Everyone get in,’ said Lindsay. Lucy, Jayden, Madalene and Georgia
all climbed into Lindsay’s Volkswagen. ‘Remember to go as fast as
possible,’ said Jayden. ‘Shut up,’ said Madalene to Jayden. ‘Don’t
go fast,’ said Georgia. Lucy, sitting in the front seat next to
Lindsay, gave Lindsay a little grin and said. ‘Go fast, Lindsay.’
‘Hold on everyone,’ yelled Lindsay, as the bug pulled out of the
schoolhomes driveway, belting down to the crossing. ‘Too fast,’
complained Georgia. ‘Don’t worry, Georgia,’ said Madalene. ‘Lindsay
is a good driver.



The car crossed over the crossing and made its way along the dirt
track towards the other houses in Chakola. ‘Did David leave the gates
open?’ Lindsay asked Lucy. Lucy nodded. ‘But we have to shut them on
the way back,’ said Madalene. Lindsay nodded, and the car zoomed up
around a bend, steadily making its way up to Oak hill, were David’s
caravan was situated.



When they got to the caravan, Lindsay spun the bug around on the dirt
track in front of the caravan a few times, the screams of the children
indicating pure delight. Eventually Lindsay brought the car up next
to the caravan, turned off the engine, and told the children to exit.



‘There is some coke cans in the fridge in the caravan, as well as
heaps of chips in the cupboard,’ said Madalene. ‘I’ll get them,’ said
Jayden. Lucy, Madalene, Georgia and Lindsay sat down on the benches
alongside the caravan. Shortly Jayden returned with 5 cans of Coke
and some packets of crisps.



‘What do you do in Canberra, Lindsay?’ Madalene asked Lindsay. ‘Oh,
different things. I have a couple of part-time jobs. One in
MacDonald’s, and another in a café in Barton. The rest of the time I
am studying. ‘What are you studying?’ asked Jayden. ‘An arts
degree. Not sure what I will concentrate on yet, but an arts degree
for now. I might study something else later.’ Georgia, who was over
by the front of the caravan, suddenly yelled out. ‘Look.’ She soon
came to the others, holding a croaking toad in her hand, covered with
dirt. ‘Ooh, gross,’ said Madalene. Lucy looked at it. ‘It’s a frog,
isn’t it?’ Lindsay looked at it, ‘I think it’s a toad, actually.’
‘If you kiss it, it will turn into a handsome prince, Lindsay. Go on
kiss it,’ said Jayden.’ ‘That’s disgusting, Jayden. Why don’t you
kiss it, Gayden. I am sure you would like a prince to kiss,’ said
Madalene. ‘Shut up, Maddy. Don’t call my gay. I’m not gay. I’m
straight.’ ‘Jayden’s gay, Jayden’s gay,’ teased Madalene.’ Lindsay
looked at the two children, a little shocked at such language. ‘Don’t
worry about them, said Lucy. They talk like that all the time.
Brigid calls them ferals.’ ‘A very suitable title, I think,’ said
Lindsay.



Later on, after Lindsay had left for Canberra, Lucy and the kids were
watching Star Wars episode I in the schoolhome. Lucy, thinking on
Lindsay, thought she was a pretty young woman and admired her
maturity. Thinking on Queen Amidala, Lucy thought Lindsay and Amidala
were alike in some ways. Both grown up and responsible. It was
something, hearing so many lessons from her mother and Shelandragh,
that she felt a little inspired to try to grow in to as well. It
would be wonderful to be all grown up like Lindsay. To be in charge
of your own life and to live as you pleased. Hopefully she would grow
up into a mature young lady like both of them.



* * * * *



Doug looked at the gravestone of Bradrick, one of the Stoned
Philosophers. Their deaths had saddened him. The Xtreme Kings had
been close to the philosophers. They, in a strange way, looked up to
the dudes. They were older than them and had trodden through paths of
life, perhaps, from Doug’s perspective, paths they shouldn’t have
trodden. But the philosophers had shared the wisdom they had gleaned
from life and had encouraged the Kings to learn from their mistakes.
Doug, particularly, had learned from the Philosophers much about
boozing and drug use. He remembered a conversation with Bradrick.
‘Doug. Lad. You can call me a hypocrite, which my loving fans often
do, but lad, don’t get into the drug scene. It will fuck you up in
the end. When I was younger I made mistakes. I didn’t learn what I
should have – what my parents taught me. Me and the philosophers are
bastards, in many ways. But we are wise bastards. Not rich bastards
– fuck em all – but we are wise bastards. Don’t make our mistakes,
lad. Don’t make our mistakes.’



Doug had thought on the drug thing. He had smoked it a little,
against Bradrick’s advice, but had given it away. He had thought on
the issue and decided, with his potential in music, the drug scene
could perhaps cost him some of his success. Dudes who could have made
it were too fucked up by drugs so much of the time that they never got
their act together and achieved what they could have. There were
exceptions – that was true – but old fashioned sobriety usually ruled
in the land of success. That idea, Doug felt, was the probable truth.



‘Rest in peace, Bradrick. Rest in peace, dude.’ Doug threw the
flowers he had bought down on the grave of Bradrick and taking a last
look, made his way over to Ty and Jerry who were hanging over near the
fence of the cemetery. ‘Did what you needed to?’ asked Jerry. ‘Yeh,’
said Doug, sombrely. ‘Come on, lets hit maccas,’ said Ty. ‘This
place is depressing.’ As the three Xtreme Kings made there way up to
Mittagong Road, Doug turned to look at the cemetery. Such is life and
death, he thought to himself. Such is life and death.



* * * * *



Jayden, against Shelandragh’s strict warning, had creeped into the
backyard of Shelandragh’s house late one Saturday afternoon, having
walked all the way from Chakola on his own, to see if he could in fact
achieve his dream of flying on one of the Dragon’s. Nobody was in the
back yard, so he climbed the fence, and walked over to the pen were
the two dragon’s were caged. He undid the gate, and carefully
encouraged Goldie to follow him out into the garden. He closed the
gate, so Silver could not get out, and got onto the back of Goldie.
‘Giddy-up,’ he yelled to Goldie, encouraging him to start moving.
‘What are you doing, Jayden?’ Jayden jumped, and looked around. He
did not see anyone anywhere, but a voice had spoken to him. Was he
hearing things, he thought to himself. He yelled giddy up again, and
the voice spoke again. ‘I suppose you want me to fly, don’t you?’
Jayden looked down at Goldie. ‘Are you speaking to me Goldie?’ ‘Who
else?’ ‘How do you do that?’ ‘No idea. Just seems to happen.’
‘That’s awesome,’ said Jayden, amazed at the new phenomenon. ‘Well,
can you fly?’ ‘I don’t think I can do that yet. I have tried a
little, but can’t quite manage it. But soon I should be able to. I
should warn you, young man, that I sense Shelandragh looking at us.’
Jayden looked to the back window of Shelandragh’s house, and noted
Shelandragh staring at him. He gave a little smile, and shrugged his
shoulders. Shelandragh looked at him for a few moments more, and
closed the curtain. He waited for the back door to open, but after a
minute or so, Shelandragh had still not appeared. Perhaps she didn’t
mind him playing with Goldie, so he decided not to worry about it.



He rode Goldie around the back yard for a few minutes, when the back
door opened and Lucy came outside. ‘Hello Jayden. Shelandragh told
me you were out here.’ ‘What did she say? Am I in trouble?’ ‘She
didn’t say anything like that. She just said you were in the back
yard.’ ‘Oh,’ said Jayden. ‘I guess she didn’t mind me riding the
dragon.’ ‘She’s probably used to the kind of things kids get up to.’
Jayden nodded, puzzling a little on that statement. ‘Were is Maddy
and Georgia?’ ‘Back in Canberra. I came down with dad for the
weekend to stay at the farm. We got here just before lunch.’ ‘Oh,
right. Oh – just wait a second.’ Lucy went back inside and returned
a few moments later with a camera. ‘Smile Jayden.’ Jayden gave a big
grin, and Lucy took a few photos on her digital camera of Jayden
riding the dragon around the yard.



Later on, Jayden shared with Lucy the news of the dragon speaking to
him, which Lucy had said had also happened to her. ‘I don’t think
they are quite ready to fly yet, J. Perhaps in a few week.’ Jayden
nodded. ‘Hopefully I will be the first to fly them.’ ‘Not if I beat
you to it,’ said Lucy, smiling at her friend.



The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon playing some
boardgames in Shelandragh’s living room, Mr Merryweather joining
them. Jayden found himself really happy around Lucy and Shelandragh.
They were friends in his life which he at his young age had really
needed.



Chapter Eight



‘Grimlock’s Agenda’



Grimlock knocked on the door of ‘Minoxxia’ which was the home to
Shelandragh May, the teacher of the half-blood Lucy Potter which he
had been assigned by his dark lord to corrupt. He had sent
Shelandragh a letter earlier that week giving her news of his new
store and requesting an audience with one of the local witches.
Shelandragh had responded positively, glad to see the opening of the
new store and had invited him for Sunday afternoon tea.



After a few moments, the door opened, and the appearance of Darren
Merryweather gave him a startling shock. ‘Mr Grimlock. How pleasant
to see you. You seem to be quite a fair distance from home. What
brings you to Bunyan?’ Grimlock thought quickly on a story to explain
to his adversary. ‘Umm. Yes. Well, I grew up in Cooma and have
decided to move back here to open a store here on the mainland. The
Hobart scene, while steady, has become dull. Cooma seems a much more
interesting spiritual climate to pursue my trade in. I feel business
here will be far more enjoyable. I have been aware of Miss May’s
notoriety for a number of years, and have requested an audience, to
which she has most graciously acceded.’ ‘Of course. Well, come in Mr
Grimlock. Oh, just a thing. I have never actually asked you what
your first name is. Do you mind if I ask?’ ‘No. I don’t mind.’
Darren looked at him for a few moments, waiting for the name, which
was not forthcoming. ‘The name,’ he urged Mr Grimlock. ‘Oh the
name. Yes, will, it is Grim.’ Darren looked at him strangely,
considering that name. ‘May I come inside, Mr Merryweather?’
‘Certainly.’ Darren stood aside, and Grimlock entered the abode of
Miss Shelandragh May.



Grimlock walked down a short hall, coming to the main lounge-room,
were who he presumed was Shelandragh May was talking with the probable
young Lucy Potter. Darren, who had followed him, spoke to
Shelandragh. ‘This is Mr Grimlock. Mr Grim Grimlock, I think.’
Grimlock gave him a strange look, which unsettled Darren. Shelandragh
got to her feet. ‘Mr Grimlock. Please, come in. Sit yourself
down.’ Grimlock sat down on a vacant lounge. ‘Hello Mr Grimlock,’
said the young Lady. ‘My name’s Lucy.’ ‘Lucy. What a wonderful
name. It is my great pleasure to meet you, young lady.’ Lucy smiled,
happy at Mr Grimlock’s kind words. ‘Mr Grimlock. Would you care for
some tea or coffee? I have some assorted spirits if that is more your
thing.’ ‘Tea would be fine, Miss May. Whatever you have.’ Darren
sat down on a single lounge seat near Grimlock. ‘Lucy. I have known
Mr Grimlock for a while now. When I was working in Hobart I used to
visit his store. It is a small world, though, having him turn up here
in Bunyan. Very small indeed.’ ‘What do you do?’ Lucy asked
Grimlock. ‘I am, like Miss May, who I presume is your teacher, a
master of the arts. I have opened a shop, the Dragon’s lair, just
recently in Cooma. I am making myself known to the local magical
community. I was actually raised here, just up the road a little, but
left at an extremely young age, so remember next to nothing of the
place.’ ‘I thought you grew up here,’ interjected Darren. ‘Oh, yes,
in a manner of speaking. I left when I was 5 years old, and have only
dim memories of my childhood. I think, though, that still qualifies
for growing up here.’ Darren nodded, although the look on his face
belied the obvious suspicion that Grimlock felt Mr Merryweather now
must surely have towards himself.



‘Tell me, Lucy. What have you learned from Miss May? What areas of
magic has she educated you in?’ ‘Different things, I guess. Probably
the same as the other student’s she has taught.’ Grimlock nodded at
that information. ‘Yes, I imagine she would. Miss May is known in
the Tasmanian community for her innovative work in animistic
wizardry. This field is most old, but has been untouched by the
greater magical community for a while now. Dark powers, you see.
Dark powers often are attracted to animistic wizardry.’ ‘Why is that,
Mr Grimlock?’ ‘Well, as I assume your teacher has taught you, Animism
involves spirits. Not all magic is based around living spirits – in
fact, in practice, very little these days. Dark wizards, however, do
often employ demonic forces to assist them in their endeavours. Our
culture is replete with such legends, of which I would assume you may
have seen some old movies involving such things as incantations
summoning demons. Lucy nodded. ‘Yes. Supernatural on TV goes on
about stuff like that.’ Grimlock nodded, also aware of the television
show. ‘Well, the animistic spirit realm has many dark spirits
inhabiting it. When magic is involved on a regular basis, word is
often carried to the darker powers. It is a reason why such an area
of magic is often shied away from in our modern culture. But,
nonetheless, it is there, as it has always been.’ ‘Shelandragh has
never talked about any problems around here involving dark spirits?
It has not been a problem for me?’ ‘Yes. I have noticed that
myself. I have sensed that this immediate area for a number of
kilometres is enveloped in a spiritual haven, as it were. There are
forces – binding spiritual forces – which make the outer realms
unaware of the activities here.’ Darren nodded at that information.
‘I am surprised you have noticed that, Grimlock.’ ‘Yes. I was aware
after a few days of living in Cooma.’ ‘So we won’t have any problems
with these dark spirits, then?’ asked Lucy, innocently. ‘No. I
would imagine not, young Miss Lucy.’



Shelandragh entered the room, carrying a tray with 4 mugs and some
biscuits upon them. ‘I have made tea for each of us. I have not
added the milk, but you can add that yourself. It is in this jug.’
‘I thank you kindly, Miss May. Your hospitality is most
appreciated.’ Shelandragh nodded at Grimlock’s words. ‘How is your
store coming along, Mr Grimlock,’ Shelandragh asked him. ‘Oh – the
usual fare for a new store. I sell many candles, charms, and much
jewellery items, which was my usual source of income in Hobart. Most
customers like magical iconography rather than taking a great interest
in the arts themselves. Although I have sold a number of books on
magic as well. Mostly introductory texts.’ Shelandragh nodded.
‘Well, I will most definitely be visiting your store quite soon.
Probably tomorrow morning, if you are open at that time.’ ‘Yes. I
live in the flat above the store, and am often downstairs early in the
morning. I am quite happy to welcome people if I am up.’ Grimlock
took a sip of tea from his mug. ‘Mmm. Is this earl grey? It tastes
a little different. A little softer.’ ‘It is Lady Grey, Mr
Grimlock.’ ‘Lady Grey? They have Lady Grey?’ ‘Yes. For quite a
while now, actually.’ Grimlock nodded. ‘I will have to make a
purchase of some. Is there any available in Cooma?’ ‘I order mine
from England, but there are usually packets available in Cooma and
Canberra. I have a spare box if you would like to take some.’ ‘Thank
you kindly, Miss May. That would be most appreciated.’



Grimlock turned to Lucy. ‘Lucy. Are you a full-blood or a half-
blood?’ ‘I am a half-blood, Mr Grimlock. My father was gifted in the
art, but mum is a Muggles.’ ‘I see. In the old world there is still
some discrimination towards half-bloods. Most primitive, in my view.
We should be grateful for all those who develop talent in the arts,
whatever their lineage. I, myself, am a half-blood also. My father
was a gifted wizard, but not given to much in the way of actually
practicing his art. He settled with mother for a regular life, coming
out to Australia just before I was born. He has passed on now, and so
has mother. He did not make much of a fuss over magical things, but
did explain my giftings to me when I was 10. He had never intended me
to pursue magic as a career, but I felt drawn to it in my teens. And
now it is my major preoccupation. Something which fills in most of my
time.’ ‘Tell me, Mr Merryweather. Are you married? Do you have any
children?’ ‘Er, no. Not married. I did have a wife, once. But she
died a few weeks after our marriage in a car accident.’ ‘Oh, I am so
sorry, Mr Grimlock.’ ‘Thank you. Yes, Matilda was dear to my heart.
She was a muggles, like mother, but kind and sweet. My better half,
for those few days. My better half in so many ways.’ ‘I pray she
sings with the angels, Mr Grimlock.’ Said Shelandragh. ‘I do hope
you are right, Miss May.’



* * * * *



Later on, while the four of them were in the back yard with young Lucy
riding around on Silver’s back, Mr Grimlock excused himself from his
conversation with Darren and Shelandragh to go and speak with Lucy.
‘So, Miss Potter. How do you feel you are developing in the arts?
How do you feel your talent is coming along?’ ‘Alright, I think, Mr
Grimlock.’ ‘Have you actually cast any animistic spells?’ ‘A few. I
cast Hydros Conflagius at my home a few weeks ago.’ ‘Hydros
Conflagius,’ said Mr Grimlock, his eyebrow tilted. ‘Yes. And a
little sprite gushed water all over me. It was very embarrassing.’
‘I could imagine,’ said Mr Grimlock. ‘Has Miss May given you any
knowledge of the dark spells? I assume with someone your age she
would have only mentioned them.’ ‘Well, actually, I have been
thinking about creating my own spell. I have learned about spell
creation, and though about creating a spell called Shadorius Tempest.
It is based on an idea I got from an Asatru book called ‘Born of
Thunder’. ‘You have read ‘Born of Thunder’, said Mr Grimlock, a spark
in his voice. ‘Not all of it. I am nearly finished, though.’ ‘Mmm.
I guess Shadorius Tempest is somehow based on the Shadow Storm?’
‘Yes. That is were I got the idea. How did you know?’ ‘Oh, I read
greatly on pagan mythology. ‘Born of Thunder’ is a very popular new
work in the pagan community. So tell me. How would you go about
creating such a spell? Are you aware of the basics of spell-
creation?’ ‘Well, Shelandragh has shared with me the basic idea for
how it is done. How to create spiritual energy in the spiritual realm
and harness is. I have the books with the ‘Shados’ and ‘Shados Redux’
spells, which I think if I combine with the ‘Tempest’ part of
‘Aquarius Tempest’ I should be able to create the spell. Grimlock
nodded, quite impressed by the obvious well thought out logic the
young lady had shown. ‘Well, Lucy. If you would like, I could help
you to create that spell. I have created a number of spells, myself,
and would be most willing to help you to create this one, if you so
desire. I would only be so happy to assist such ambition as you have
shown.’ ‘Well, I guess so. But when?’ ‘Mmm. Well, I would not want
to interfere with the lessons between you and Shelandragh. But if you
would like to visit my shop in Cooma sometimes, we could go upstairs
to my flat to work on the spell.’ ‘Well if my mum says its okay, then
sure.’ ‘Oh, of course. Naturally I will introduce myself to your
mother so that she can get to know me. I tell you what. Why don’t I
come and see your mother when you have finished here. I am free for
the rest of the day and night, so it will not be a problem to me.’
‘Okay. Mum will pick me up at 6.00 tonight. You could introduce
yourself to her then.’ Grimlock nodded, satisfied with that
information. ‘That would be most ideal, young Lucy.’



A little after 6.00, Caroline arrived at Shelandragh’s place.
Grimlock introduced himself and inquired into the possibility of also
teaching Lucy some principles of magic. Caroline had inquired of
Shelandragh wether this was alright. Darren had voiced some minor
concerns, but Shelandragh had stated that Caroline was the one to
decide on such an issue. But she had stated that she had no objection
to Mr Grimlock likewise teaching young Lucy. Caroline had asked
wether Lucy would like to study with Mr Grimlock as well, to which
Lucy had nodded in the affirmative. ‘Well, okay then. That’s alright
with me.’ Lucy had smiled, pleased at the news. Mr Grimlock had
smiled also, seemingly also pleased with the news. Quite pleased.



* * * * *



‘I think, Alfric, that more caution is now needed. Grimlock has been
successful in gaining lessons with Lucy, and although we still have
nothing concrete on him, there is really no telling what he could
teach her.’ ‘And these lessons are to be a private affair, Darren?
You could not possibly sit in?’ ‘Perhaps. I don’t think Lucy would
mind, but Grimlock may object. And I am not really in a strong enough
position to influence Caroline on the issue yet. I am not quite sure
what to do about the issue.’ Alfric paused before continuing.
‘Perhaps a few subtle, but mind you subtle, words to Lucy to be a
little cautious about Grimlock. Suggest to her that with new teachers
it is important to be careful and sound them out. She will probably
think you are advising of ‘beware of strangers’ or some such similar
lesson. I am sure she will listen to what you have to say.’ ‘Yes,
that sounds like a good idea. I will go with that then. Thanks.’
‘Well, keep in touch. I will call you on your mobile again in a few
days for an update. And, finally, now that Grimlock has moved to
Cooma and is teaching Lucy I feel that your tenure with young Miss
Potter is to be as I said previously of an indefinite nature. You can
probably write in at least 5 or 6 years worth of living in Cooma into
your diary. We want to keep our eyes on this lass. If Grimlock has
any negative influence, she will have to be nurtured away from those
elements. It is your responsibility, Darren. A young lady’s future
is at steak.’ ‘Okay, Alfric. Talk to you later.’ ‘bye.’ Darren
placed his mobile phone back in his pocket, and continued driving
along the highway back to his flat in Cooma.



Pulling into the long driveway up to his flat, he thought on his ward,
young Lucy. She was a bright young lady, so mature for someone so
young. And intelligent too. But Shelandragh had stated that much of
this was to do with her mother’s influence and careful teaching. Lucy
had potential. Great potential. One day, as Alfric had stated, she
may indeed find a place on the Australian Ministry of Magic, if she so
desired. What appeared to be her fine grooming by her mother, and
obvious personal abilities, spoke of potentially one of the ministries
early heroes. The ministry in Australia was not old. Not even a
century. And as such it was still establishing itself in a sense.
Young Lucy had, if she wanted it, the opportunity to establish herself
in the halls of fame amongst the magical community of Australia. Too
be one of the more memorable and prominent figures in the lore of
Australian magic. And as a Potter, if her lineage ever became well
known, fame internationally as well.



Climbing up the white steps to his flat, and taking the door on the
right, Darren entered his abode. It was pretty basic. A main living
room, with an adjoining kitchenette. Also a single bedroom and
bathroom. There was a laundry around the back of the flats, but
Darren had been using the local laundrette just a little walk down
Sharp street from his flat.



After having a basic microwave meal, Darren picked up one of the books
he had been reading. It was a book about the Cooma region he had
bought from a shop on Vale street. One of the shop attendants, Hugo,
had suggested it when he had been looking for books about Cooma. He
had been reading about the history of the town, which was known as the
gateway to the snowy mountains. Lambie street was the oldest section
of Cooma, just down the road from where he lived. He had visited an
art gallery on that street a couple of days after arriving. Opposite
his flat when looking out the main windows was nanny goat hill. He
had climbed the hill a few days ago, and noticed a concrete nanny goat
near the lookout at the top. He wondered to himself just how many
kids had played with that nanny-goat, which was the kind of thing he
would have done as a child.



The hill, being in the centre of town, also seemed the kind of place
were youths of the town might go on Saturday nights to drink beer and
get wasted. Although, the pubs seemed to service most of this, he
suspected that under-agers might occasionally frequent the place. He
actually found himself liking Cooma quite a lot. It was similar to
many country towns throughout Australia, typical for its region
really. The general animistic spirits for the region seemed
appropriate and not out of place. A nice fresh feel. The kind of
place, he felt, were family could be safely raised. Away from some of
the more savage places like Sydney and Melbourne, which were often a
challenge for some people. Most of the suburbs were okay, but the
inner cities could often be dangerous, especially at night. He
doubted that Cooma really had any such great problems. Of course, the
incident in the park was alarming, but through conversations he’d had
it seemed such events were rare, life usually going on at a steady
country-town pace. Yes, perhaps one day, if family came his way,
Cooma might make an ideal place to raise family. He had a girlfriend,
sort of, in Sydney, who he saw every few months. She was single and
said she didn’t need a lot of male companionship, but enjoyed his
company whenever he turned up. Carol was very preoccupied with her
career at the moment, and was not ready for settling down to family.
She was in a large carpeting company, which had a number of
storefronts around Sydney. She worked in the main office, just under
the Area manager. It was busy and demanding work, and she worked very
hard to keep her job and the good pay packet that went with it.
Darren’s pay packet was not that substantial in comparison. The
ministry was funded partially private by the magical community, and
with a secret government fund as well. The Prime Minister and certain
other secret personnel within the Government and its agencies had
knowledge of the Ministry, but it was on high level intelligence
status, protected by various confidential information Acts. A great
deal of funding, due to the necessity to keep the ministries affairs
away from prying eyes was not really possible, but with the other
income, it was still a reasonable wage. In a sense, working in the
ministry was a calling or a devotion. It was not a job to make huge
amounts of money. In the private market, magic, to the right
customer, could earn quite a deal. But for those in the arts who
valued the sense of tradition and importance that magic brought to the
community, a more serious occupation was often sought. It was such an
occupation that Darren, after a number of stints at various things in
his early twenties, had eventually gravitated too. And it seemed that
it had security, which was always appealing – as well as long term
prospects for advancement. It was, for Mr Merryweather, a sensible
choice in occupation, and one in which he found calm satisfaction.
Often eventful but, yes, calm satisfaction.





Chapter Nine



‘The Secret Chamber’



‘Well, fortunately the spell worked. Nobody disturbed the Dragon’s
body after I cast the ‘Vanishos’ spell, and when I saw the body this
morning it was all intact. The remains are here in this vase.’
Shelandragh showed to Darren a black vase, quite big, containing the
ashes of the Golden Ridged Wyvvern.’ ‘What are you going to do with
the Ashes?’ asked Lucy. ‘I think, Lucy, out of respect for our fallen
foe, we lay them to rest in her home – the cavern were she slept under
Canberra.’ ‘Oh. Can I come?’ ‘If your mother does not mind. We
will go tomorrow morning. If you are here before 8.00 we will head
off then. Do you want to tag along Darren?’ ‘Should prove
interesting. My new book is progressing slowly, so I often have free
time. I can come.’ Lucy smiled, pleased at Darren words. Darren had
told Lucy that much of his work involved writing, which was not
technically a lie, as he was in fact slowly working on a book of
magic, which was, however, used as a ruse or excuse to Lucy to explain
how he spent his time. ‘I have a lantern in my flat. Is the journey
long?’ ‘About 15 kilometres, there and 15 back, and only by foot. It
will take us all day, and much of the night. However, once we get
into the heart of the cave, about a kilometre of travelling down, the
going is alright. Not too difficult. We will need a few lanterns,
and many wicks and kerosene. I will prepare a packed lunch for all of
us, which we can eat when we arrive in the main cavern. I want to
spread the ashes and pray a short prayer when we get there. Lucy, it
will be okay if you look around the main cavern a little. But there
is probably not really anything to look at. Wyvvern’s, this kind
anyway, do not really collect any possessions, so there will probably
be a bunch of bones and little else. But you are free to look
around.’ Lucy smiled, looking forward to the morning’s adventure.



* * * * *



Standing in front of Minoxxia, Lucy looked at the early morning
traffic. Bunyan was a small hutlet, just out of Cooma, but many
travellers left for Canberra from Cooma each morning along the Monaro
highway. It was just a little after 7.00, her mother having just
dropped her off. Shelandragh had asked her to stand outside and wait
for Darren, who had rung her to say he would be arriving at a quarter
past seven. There were no clouds in the sky that morning. It would
probably be a warm day, as spring was nearly over with, and Summer was
approaching. Australia had many hot places in Summer from what she
remembered from her early days travels, but Bunyan had reasonable
weather. It wasn’t too hot in Summer, although the winter’s could be
chilly, as they were near the Snowy mountains were it snowed in
winter. But it suited Lucy to live in Chakola, which was just a
little away from Bunyan.



She heard a car horn honking, and looked up the road to see Darren’s
four wheel drive pulling up. ‘Shelandragh. Darren’s hear,’ she
yelled. Shelandragh appeared a few moments later, with a large
hammock, and some lanterns. Darren got out of the car and opened the
boot. ‘I have a few things packed for our trip, Shelandragh.’ He
pushed some bags towards the back seat, making room for Shelandragh’s
hammock and lanterns. ‘I would like to get some petrol at Bredbo, and
you can get a drink there if you like Lucy.’ ‘As long as its Coke.’
‘As long as its Coke,’ Darren repeated.



* * * * *



Lucy sat on a bench in Bredbo park, drinking her Coke. Bredbo was up
the road from Chakola, before Michelago. It was a bit larger than
Michelago, but not a big town – more of a village. She had been there
a number of times, usually with her mother, who had a friend who lived
there. The village was called the city of Poplars, as a large number
of Poplar trees were scattered throughout the village. It was a quiet
town, which suited Lucy, something which living in Chakola she had
grown accustomed to.



‘Come on Lucy, time to go.’ Lucy got up in response to Shelandragh’s
call, and made her way over to the car. When they had gotten under
way again, Shelandragh began explaining how they would get to the
cave. ‘We can take the back road to Tharwa, just at Williamsdale, and
there are number of tracks we can take from the Tidbinbilla tracking
station. I don’t think we will be seen, but I think much of the land
leading up to the Brindabellas is private property. We will have to
walk the few kilometres from the tracking stations as I don’t know of
any roads we can take.’ Darren nodded, taking in that news.
‘Whereabouts is the cave?’ ‘About halfway up the Brindies. They are
not a big mountain range, as you might know, and are not difficult to
climb. The cave is likely well known these days, and is probably a
popular destination for cavers. I haven’t really looked into any
established ways for getting to the cave, but I don’t think we need to
worry about a one-off visit. If anyone catches us and asks what we
are doing we will simply say we are visiting the cave. I’m sure it
will be okay.’ ‘It’ll be fine, Shelandragh.’



* * * * *



‘Of course, when I first visited the cave, it was still generally a
secret chamber which only the aborigines knew about, as it was hidden
by many trees. But it has become known about for a number of years
now.’ The three of them had just started climbing up the
Brindabellas, heading for the once secret chamber. Shelandragh had
been sharing with Darren and Lucy her tale of her first visit to the
cave a number of years ago. Lucy had been listening intently,
especially to the part were Shelandragh had come upon the dragon. ‘We
will be all day, of course, travelling to the chamber and back, but we
will rest every hour Lucy. I am sure, while you will be exhausted by
days end, you will not regret the journey.’ ‘I am sure I will be
okay, Shelandragh. I walk a lot to Chakola from Bunyan, and am used
to long walks. I can make it.’ ‘Let’s hope so, young lady,’ said
Darren, who was dreading the thought of carrying an exhausted young
Lucy back when she was too tired to walk on.



About 20 minutes later they had arrived at the entrance to the cave,
which was quite large, but hidden by a cleft in the mountain.
Shelandragh readied the Lantern’s, lighting them, and handing one each
to Darren and Lucy. She placed the hammock she had been carrying down
near the entrance to the cave and removed items of food and drink from
them. ‘If you carry these in your backpacks, it will be easier for
all of us,’ she said, handing to Lucy and Darren each of the lunch-
packs she had prepared. Lucy and Darren placed the lunches in their
backpacks, Lucy taking a sip of water from her drink bottle. ‘Well,
lets get going. Darren, if you will.’ Darren led the way down into
the cave, and their day’s adventure began in earnest.



* * * * *



After a couple of hours of stalagmites and stalactites, and even the
occasional bat, Lucy was getting tired. ‘It is a long trip, Lucy.
But I am sure you will be grateful for it one day. It will prove a
valuable memory for yourself.’ Lucy nodded, encouraged at
Shelandragh’s words. The trio broke for a 5 minute rest, and then
started again. Lucy thought on the day’s walk ahead of her and
momentarily regretted her decision to join Shelandragh and Darren.
But she changed her mind and thought that, as Shelandragh had said, it
may prove an interesting memory one day.



About 7 hours later, they finally arrived at the cavern of the
Dragon. There had only been minor caves on their journey, the route
usually pretty easy to follow. Darren had inquired as to why nobody
had ever found the dragon, as he had assumed the cave would have been
explored regularly. ‘Actually, I am guilty of that not being well
known. When I first found the dragon, I placed a spell at the
entrance of the cave later to show a deep abyss and a solid wall
across from the abyss. It took me half a day of solid witchcraft to
prepare all the necessary deception spells to confuse any potential
investigators upon finding the abyss. I have never noted any one talk
of the dragon on the news, so it would seem my spells were
successful.’ ‘But Canberra has been settled for a number of years
now. Exactly how long ago did you cast these spells,’ asked Darren,
his curiousity arisen. ‘Mmm. Perhaps you should ask Alfric about
that,’ said Shelandragh, giving Lucy a little wink.



Entering the cavern Lucy began exploring. As Shelandragh had stated,
there were a number of bones around the cavern, perhaps Kangaroo, and
perhaps even human, so Lucy thought. But nothing out of the
ordinary. The dragon had made a nest out of old branches which she
had presumably carried into the chamber. ‘It would have probably
taken her a few days worth of work to build this nest, Lucy. But I
guess she would have preferred the privacy of the cave for her long
slumber.’ ‘Yes, they sleep a millennia, don’t they?’ asked Lucy.
‘That’s right. This is mostly peculiar to this breed of Wyvvern, and
some other magical creatures as well. Certain breeds of Cockatrice
often sleep near 2 millennia, so I have been told. ‘Aye. 2000
years!’ exclaimed Darren. ‘2000 years of Grand finals to catch up
on,’ he said further. ‘Not to mention the soaps.’ Said Shelandragh
sarcastically, in response, which made Lucy smile a little.



I guess we can have our main lunch-break now, and then I will scatter
the ashes and say a little prayer. The three of them sat down near
the nest, and opened up their backpacks. Munching through a Nutella
sandwich, drinking on her orange juice, Lucy thought on the giant nest
and the dragon it would have homed. Of course, it was Goldie and
Silver’s mother who nested there. Sleeping for a whole thousand years
must have brought her so many dreams, Lucy thought to herself, if
Wyvvern’s ever dreamed. She knew from her mother’s education that
bears hibernated through winter, so she assumed this was something
similar for Wyvvern’s. ‘In case you were wondering, Lucy, Wyvvern’s
metabolism slow down to virtually non-existent during their long
hibernation,’ said Shelandragh. ‘They digest their food extremely
slowly, which is stored in fat cells throughout their body. You know
in those Star Wars movies that you like, the one were Han Solo is
frozen.’ ‘Yes,’ Lucy nodded. ‘Well it is perhaps something similar
to that idea. They are quite okay when in their long hibernation. It
is a time for them to refresh and recharge. They come alive for about
a decade in between hibernating, and that time they are savagely
preoccupied with the things of life – hunting and eating, mating and
whatever other things Wyvvern’s get up to.’ ‘Were are Wyvvern’s
from?’ asked Lucy. ‘From Terra, Lucy. That is were they originate
from.’ ‘Were is Terra,’ she asked again. ‘Oh, I had thought I had
told you that. Terra is an ancient name for the earth, which many
people from the old world identify as the great central land mass on
our planet. Africa, Asia and Europe all actually form one great land
block. It is, sort of, one really big island. I have often known it
to be called ‘Terra.’ ‘Yes,’ said Lucy. ‘I have often thought that
all of those continents were really just one big island. Australians
often say that Australia is the biggest island in the world, but those
three continents together are really an island, I think.’ ‘It depends
on the technicalities of your definition of an island, Lucy. But for
a land mass totally surrounded by water, which is a common definition
for an island, it does seem to fit.’



A little while later, after they had finished their lunches,
Shelandragh took the black vase out of her backpack, and undid the
cork plug which was in the top. She looked at Lucy. ‘Would you like
to scatter the ashes around the nest?’ ‘Oh, okay,’ said Lucy a little
nervously. She took the vase and looked at Shelandragh. ‘What do I
do?’ Just tip the vase downwards and spread the ashes around the nest
a little. When you are finished I will pray a short prayer to God.’
Lucy tilted the vase downwards slowly, and ashes started pouring out.
She carefully clambered through the nest, spreading the ashes, and
when the vase was empty, she returned to Shelandragh. ‘Try placing
the vase in the nest. It may be a suitable memorial stone.’ Lucy did
so. Coming back and standing next to Shelandragh, Lucy asked, ‘Should
we bow her heads?’ ‘Yes, I think that is a good idea.’ The three of
them bowed their heads and a short while later Shelandragh began
praying. ‘Father God. We ask you to welcome the soul of this Wyvvern
to the place where she is supposed to go. Assure her we had no ill
feeling toward her and that we only did what we felt we had to in the
circumstances. Bless her in her new home and let her know we will be
taking care of her children. We sincerely pray this. Amen.’ Lucy
opened her eyes, and looked at the nest. ‘Hopefully she is resting
happily,’ said Darren. ‘Hopefully,’ agreed Shelandragh.



* * * * *



Later on, Darren’s arms aching from the sleeping Lucy in his arms,
having occasionally remarked to Shelandragh his new possible
occupation as a prophet, having predicted to himself the girls later
complaints of exhaustion, he and Shelandragh finally arrived back at
the Tidbinbilla tracking station. ‘Look, Shelandragh. I know it is
only an hour’s drive down to Chakola, but we may be able to spend the
night at Alfric’s in Deakin. That is much closer, and I am sure he
will not mind.’ ‘If you think its okay, Darren. I wouldn’t want to
bother the minister though unannounced.’ ‘I am sure he won’t mind.
And it may actually be a good opportunity for him to meet Lucy. That
is, if she gets up in the morning.’ ‘Well, okay. It is fine by me.’
Darren nodded, and carefully placed the sleeping Lucy in the back
seat, buckling her up.



About 20 minutes later they had arrived at Alfric’s place, which was
in the suburb of Deakin in the heart of Canberra, very near Parliament
House. The porch light had come on when they had pulled up, and
shortly after Alfric appeared, dressed in pyjamas and a dressing
gown. ‘Darren, is that you?’ ‘Hey Alfric. We have a sleeping Miss
Potter, and we didn’t fancy the long trip back to Chakola. Is it okay
if we spend the night here.’ ‘Of course,’ replied Alfric. ‘A very
good idea, actually, as I would greatly enjoy making acquaintances
with young Miss Potter. Hello Shelandragh. Good to see you again.’
‘Hello Alfric. How is Esthelle?’ ‘Happy as ever. She is still up,
watching the tennis. She will be happy to see you again.’ Darren,
carefully carrying the sleeping Lucy in his arms, walked up the short
rampway to Alfric’s back door and entered the house. ‘This way,
Darren.’ Alfric led the way down a hall to a bedroom with 2 single
beds in it.’ ‘This should be fine for Lucy and Shelandragh. There is
another guest room were you can sleep, Darren.’ Shelandragh opened up
the quilts on the bed, and Darren carefully laid the sleeping Lucy
down.’ ‘I will leave all of the undressing business to you,
Shelandragh.’ Shelandragh nodded knowingly, and closed the door
behind the departing Darren and Alfric.



Walking down the hall, Alfric brought Darren into his den. ‘I won’t
disturb Esthelle. She can see you all in the morning. Your room is
just opposite Lucy’s. There are towels in the cupboard along the
hallway if you want to shower. I am sure you know were the bathroom
is.’ ‘Down the hall to the left, as I recall.’ ‘That’s right. Well,
why are you here tonight? Been out partying?’ ‘Not really. We spent
the day travelling to the Dragon’s cavern. Lucy spread out the ashes
of the dragon which Shelandragh had collected, and Shelandragh prayed
a short prayer to send the spirit of the dragon of to whatever
afterlife dragons’ believe in.’ ‘That is pleasing. Of course, as you
probably know, we have very little magical creature folk in
Australia. Some Bunyips and Yowies, and a few other notable
creatures. But Dragon’s rarely frequent this place. I am glad this
particular beast did not cause too many problems.’ ‘Yes, it could
have been difficult.’ ‘Well, I will let you get some sleep, Darren.
I am sure you can look after yourself. Good night.’ Alfric patted
Darren on the back, and exited the room, making his way back towards
the television room he had come from were, presumably, Esthelle was
still watching television.



Darren walked down the hall, took a towel, and knocked on
Shelandragh’s door. She opened a few moments later. ‘I will have a
shower now, if that’s okay. I won’t use all the hot water.’
Shelandragh nodded. ‘Okay. Sleep well Darren. Good night.’ ‘Yes,
good night,’ echoed Darren.



A little later, Darren having gotten into the single bed in his room
opposite Shelandragh, he thought on the day’s walk. He was exhausted,
but the memories for young Lucy seemed also worth his exhaustion to
him, as well as Shelandragh and, hopefully, young miss Lucy.



Chapter Ten



‘The Azkerbahnian Prisoner’



‘So you see, Miss Potter, the Ministry of Magic is of grave importance
to the Australian wizard and witch community. The responsibilities we
undertake ensure a harmonious magical community were each wizard and
witch can carry out their craft secure in the knowledge that the
guild, as it was often called in days of old, is looking after their
welfare and ensuring a continuation of the much enjoyed status quo.’
Young Miss Potter, sitting eating a piece of toast, occasionally
sipping on the glass of orange juice in front of her, intently
listened to Master Alfric’s words of education and encouragement
regarding the Ministry of Magic. He had explained the basic purpose
the ministry served, that of overseeing and regulating codes of
behaviour, rulings on laws of government relating to authorized use of
magic, maintenance of the positive role of white witchery and wizardry
and a number of other such matters. It had given Miss Lucy a better
understanding of how she, a young witch learning the craft, fitted
into the bigger world picture. And inspired her a little as well,
thinking on the possible opportunities her education could one day
give to her.



‘Tell me, young Lucy. Have you given much thought to your future?
Have you yet considered a possible future occupation.’ Lucy thought
on that for a moment before responding. ‘A bit, master Alfric. Mum
suggests that I study some sort of degree when I am old enough, but
has left the choice of degree to myself to consider. She said if I
want to do anything in magic, it is up to me to work out for myself.’
Alfric nodded, happy with the words. ‘Yes, life these days does have
so many opportunities. For a young child so dedicated to education as
yourself, there is no limit to the kind of occupation or career you
could choose. However, should you choose to pursue a career in magic,
I would have you know that we at the Ministry of Magic would strongly
consider offering you a position in the Ministry at a suitable age.
That is if you were interested.’ Lucy looked at Shelandragh a little
startled, and looked back at Alfric. ‘Work in the ministry!’ she
exclaimed. ‘Gosh. That would be awesome.’ ‘Mind you, young lady.
You would have to be most dedicated to your studies. We do not like
slouches here in the Ministry of Magic.’ ‘Oh, Lucy is far from being
a slouch,’ said Shelandragh. ‘A little rebellious at times – or
perhaps more strong willed – but not a slouch. Far from being a
slouch.’ ‘Quite true,’ echoed Darren. ‘She is a very dedicated
soul,’ stated Mr Merryweather. Lucy blushed a little at all the
apparent flattery. ‘But I have a lot of study in front of me first.’
‘Quite true, young Lucy,’ said Alfric. ‘A firm education is the
foundation for an excellent life. Success is achieved through
knowledge. Without a good education you will not often go that far.
There are exceptions, naturally, but the highest levels of success in
life are achieved through a sound education. It is an undeniable
truth of our culture.’



Later on, travelling down the highway back to Chakola, Lucy thought on
Alfric’s words. Education was a major preoccupation for her mother in
raising herself. She pushed Lucy constantly to achieve as highly as
she could. Lucy knew, as she had known from a young age, that it was
how success was achieved in life. And she had chosen to stick to her
studies and continue with them as best she could because, whatever
else life may offer, having success in it seemed at least as good as
an approach as any other. So felt young Miss Lucy Potter.



* * * * *



Grimlock looked at the white-haired freak before him. Long hair,
beard and moustache, a long scar running down the left hand side of
his face, and what could only be described as a manic expression on
his face. And although Lucifer Malfoy was an ambassador of his dark
Lord, the just escaped Azkerbahnian prisoner made him enormously
nervous. Secondborn of a set of identical triplets, Lucifer was one
of the most hated warlocks from the old world. He had been sentenced
to life in Azkerbahn for wicked deeds which even shocked the
Malevolent Grimlock, and he was most disturbed finding Lucifer now in
his presence. ‘The steak is good. More,’ Lucifer grunted to
Grimlock. Grimlock went to his kitchenette and using a fork skewered
another piece of fried steak and came over to were Lucifer was
sitting, placing it on his plate. Lucifer, finishing off the piece he
was eating, took a drink of the beer in front of him, and started the
next piece. When he was finally finished, he burped and wiped his
mouth with his shirt sleeve. ‘My, we have good manner’s, don’t we,’
mocked Grimlock savagely. ‘Fuck you, Grimlock,’ replied Malfoy.
‘Temper, temper. You must really watch that. However, as you are
already an escaped prisoner I assume you may not even care,’ said
Grimlock. ‘So you better watch yourself, bastard,’ replied Lucifer.
Grimlock sat down opposite Lucifer at his table. ‘So for what
godforsaken reason could you possibly have for coming all the way here
to Australia.’ ‘Best place not to be seen. I don’t think they will
recognize me here. Good place to hide.’ ‘Perhaps. But there is a
ministry of magic worker who lives here in Cooma. If he recognizes
you, your cover may be blown.’ ‘What’s his name. I’ll kill him.’
‘Yes, you probably would, wouldn’t you. As bad as Lucius is, I must
really say you make him a saint in comparison.’ ‘Fuck off.’ Grimlock
continued unperturbed. ‘In fact, you are probably the black sheep in
the family, which for a Malfoy is saying quite a lot.’ Lucifer
grinned at the comment. ‘Yeh. Yeh, I reckon I am probably the black
sheep. Suits me, though. Lucius is a pretty-boy. Always carrying
that fucking pretentious cain. Something’s up his butt.’ ‘Most
affectionate towards your older brother, aren’t you.,’ said Grimlock.
‘Fuck off. Yeh, I suppose. Lucas is the only normal one of the three
of us. Hates me and Lucius for our dark ways, of course. Buggered
off to America years ago, wanting nothing to do with us. Got a letter
before I was sent to prison from him. Told me all was well – usual
bullshit. But its his life. He can live it as a candy-ass yankee if
he wants. Don’t bother me.’ ‘Candy-ass yankee?’ queried Grimlock.
‘Ah, the yanks are full of it. Always think they rule the world.
Power mad, Americans are. Power mad.’ ‘Perhaps an exaggeration, I
think, Lucifer.’ ‘Nah. Just what I see. So were does this ministry
man live. I will pay him a visit. Have a few words.’ ‘Mr
Merryweather lives just up the road a little on Sharp street. But he
is usually out at Bunyan or Chakola with a young Miss Lucy Potter, who
the dark lord has asked me to turn to the darkside.’ ‘Right. Bunyan,
Chakola. Were are they?’ ‘Oh, just out of town on the road to
Canberra. Quite easy to find.’ ‘Addresses?’ Grimlock took a pad
which was sitting on the table in front of him and taking a pen from
his pocket wrote out the addresses to Shelandragh May’s house and
Lucy’s address. ‘I would stress, Lucifer. Do not kill Lucy. Our
master would be most displeased.’ ‘Sure. I’ll just have some fun
with Mr Merryweather.’ ‘Have your pleasure, cretin. Have your
pleasure.’ ‘Fuck you. I am mostly out of cash. Have any? I will
taxi it to these places.’ Grimlock walked over to a cupboard and took
out a number of hundred dollar bills. ‘Here. Take these,’ he said,
handing Lucifer 7 hundred dollar bills. ‘It should be plenty to last
you a while. If you need more, come back. The master has practically
limitless funds available, as you probably know.’ ‘Yeh, thanks. Any
brothels nearby?’ ‘Mmm. Yes you do appear to be the type.’ In
Canberra there is a number of establishments. I am sure you and your
manhood will be able to find them.’ ‘Yeh. Me and my manhood like
finding a piece of flesh. What the hell else is there in life
anyway.’ ‘A very good question, Mr Malfoy. A very good question.’



A short while later, Lucifer had left Grimlock’s abode, much to
Grimlock’s relief. Lucifer had smelled quite bad, not surprising
given his state of dress. He’d probably had little chance to change
since escaping from Azkerbahn, and had not seemingly showered since.
Thankfully, though, the cretinous soul had now left. But he was
useful. If he did in fact manage to eliminate the bothersome Mr
Merryweather, Grimlock would be silently pleased at an irritating
adversary in his master-plan removed. It would make his agenda with
young Miss Lucy Potter much more achievable. Much more achievable
indeed.



* * * * *



‘So what is your name, dear sprite.’ ‘Minxy,’ said the water sprite
which lived under the crossing of Newmerella river in Chakola, in
reply to Darren Merryweather’s question.’ ‘Minxy? How original?’
‘Ooh. Sarcastic are we. Father warned me about men like you. Watch
out for those ones. You never know what they might do?’ ‘Oh, you
have nothing to worry about with me, Minxy,’ replied Darren. ‘I am
above board.’ Lucy looked at the sprite dressed in blue, which Darren
had summoned with a spell. ‘Well. How many of you live in this
river.’ The sprite looked at Lucy, a little grin on her face. ‘Mmm.
I believe I have already answered that question, young Lucy. It is
for me to know and you to find out.’ ‘Well, how will I know if you
don’t tell me?’ The sprite considered that. ‘Good point, Miss
Potter. I will have to consider that. Perhaps if you ask my Father,
he may answer you on that question. But I won’t.’ ‘Were is he?’
asked Darren. ‘Oh, he lives upstream a hundred metres or so, just
near the bend. His favourite place of the river.’ ‘Shall we go and
ask him?’ Lucy asked Darren. ‘I guess so.’ ‘Let him know his
daughter sent you. Minxy, remember. He rarely visits me down here,
and I don’t like swimming upstream.’ ‘You swim? Why not fly? Can’t
you do that?’ Minxy looked at Lucy, thinking on the question. ‘Well,
yes, actually. But only when we are summoned. And only if our
summoner asks us to. Otherwise we do not have permission. If I am to
visit Father, I have to swim upstream. And for a sprite such as me,
100 metres is a long way upstream.’ ‘Oh,’ said Lucy, now
understanding.



Darren and Lucy trod along the sand along the river, making their way
up to the bend. After a few metres, they heard the sound of a vehicle
stopping at the crossing behind them. Turning around, Darren noticed
a blonde man slowly walking towards them. ‘I wonder who that is?’
said Darren, a mild look of concern on his face. As the stranger
neared, Darren started to worry a little. The face seemed familiar.
He was not sure if he could exactly place it, but he sensed a spirit
of darkness associated with it. A darkness which seemed quite
unpleasant. As the stranger neared, he spoke out to them. ‘Are you
Mr Merryweather?’ ‘Yes, that is I,’ nodded Darren. The stranger
pulled out a wand and pointed it at Darren, yelling ‘Magmas.’
However, Darren had sensed the attack very quickly, as belied his
training in the ministry of magic, and had cast a Defensive spell to
shield him and Lucy from the bolt of flame. ‘Darren. I’m scared,’
Lucy stuttered, the lass trembling beside him. Darren himself was
also in a state of fear. And he had now recognized his opponent from
the Ministry of Magic files. It was one of the most malicious dark
warlocks of all – the dreaded Lucifer Malfoy.’ ‘Lucy. Listen
carefully. Listen very carefully. I will cast another spell on you,
and you cross over the river and hide in the house. No, better yet,
get Barry and tell him to bring his rifle. And tell him to load it.
Shotguns often work best in situations like this.’ Darren eyed
Lucifer who was standing about 10 metres away, hand on chin,
considering his next attack. Darren muttered a few words, and yelled
at Lucy to run across the river. Lucifer watched the girl go, but
didn’t care. Merryweather was his objective. Having crossed the
river, Lucy looked at the two men. Darren was standing, ready for
whatever came next, while the white haired man seemed to be
considering her next move. She was still trembling, and very scared –
but at this distance she felt a little safer. Suddenly she had an
idea. The man had probably forgotten about her. If she cast a spell
on him, perhaps he would not be ready to shield himself. She thought
as quickly as she could, and instantly one of the spells from Ultima
IV – or to be precise, a spell which was similar to one from that game
– came to her mind. She pulled out her wand, pointed it at the man,
and with every ounce of willpower the young, terrified, Lucy Potter
had available to her shouted ‘Relocate.’ Blue and white light
emanated from her wand, sprouted forth and, finding its target,
undertook its objective. A few moments later the man had
disappeared. Darren, noting the light and the direction it had come
from, turned to Lucy. ‘Bloody hell Lucy. What the hell was that?’
‘Relocate. It was all that I could think of.’ Darren walked over to
were the man had been standing, punched the air to make sure nobody
was there, and trudged across the river to Lucy. Despite his also
apparent shaken state, he had one of the biggest grins Lucy had ever
seen on Mr Merryweather. ‘You are a Potter, aren’t you dear Lucy.’
‘Uh, yeh,’ said Lucy, still trembling somewhat. ‘Come on. Up to the
house. I have to phone Alfric. I know who it was, and he will need
to notify some people. Do you know were you sent him?’ Lucy shook
her head. ‘I just cast the spell as quickly as I could. It was the
only one I could think of.’ Darren nodded. ‘Mmm. Well, wherever he
is, I do hope there is not a happy welcoming for him. Hopefully a
swamp, or some quicksand. Not a pleasant soul, that one. Not in any
way pleasant.’



The two of them trudged up to the schoolhome, and after Lucy had
calmed down and been given some of Brigid’s pumpkin soup, Darren
called Alfric. Hours later Lucy was still jumpy, but had calmed down
somewhat. It had been an experience. An intense experience. But one
she would most definitely not like to repeat if she had any say in the
matter.



* * * * *



Lucifer Malfoy screamed. Obscenities directed at Lucy Potter were
gushing from his mouth. There he sat, in a prison cell. But not any
prison cell. He was back in his cell in Azkerbahn. The very same one
he had escaped from. The Potter girl had cast ‘Relocate’ on him,
sending him back to were he had come from. It was a most unfortunate
encounter. And as one of the guards, finding their missing guest now
returned to them grinned madly, Lucifer Malfoy plotted in his heart
the most evil of vengeances on young Miss Lucy Potter.

* * * * *



‘Lucy. This is not always the most pleasant of worlds. I am sure
that you can recall a number of lessons I have taught you about dark
wizards and warlocks. They are the darker aspects of our craft. An
aspect which has oft ruined our reputation. But they are not the
heart of our craft, nor ever will be. This character, I am afraid
young child, may not like you that much at this present time.
Wherever he is, he may be planning an attack on you. Now, I will need
you to sit down in a circle later on, for I have a great number of
protective charms I wish to cast on you. And, despite your young age,
there are now spells I feel obligated to teach you. If this character
ever returns, you may find yourself having to face him alone. It is
horrible for such a young girl to ever have to face this. But evil
exists, and not everyone is motivated by goodness. So you will need
to be prepared, young Miss Lucy. You will need to be prepared.’



Later that night, Shelandragh, receiving news from Alfric about
Lucifer’s reappearance in Azkerbahn, thanked the powers that be. A
weight, an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She
was so relieved. She thought on Lucy and felt that the lass was
probably having a sleepless night, and knew she must share this news
immediately. Ringing Caroline, she apologized for the late hour of
the call, and asked for Lucy. Lucy had indeed been sleepless and she
could feel the real relief in Lucy’s voice when the news of Lucifer’s
recapture, as it were, had been given to her.



Later on, Shelandragh thought on the nature of her craft. It had
always had it’s darker elements. From ancient days, dark wizardry had
been practiced which had corrupted the Lightworkers craft. But she
did believe, ultimately, that the power of good and the power of those
who were good within her craft would ultimately be seen. On that
issue, Shelandragh May had some faith.









Chapter Eleven



‘Lucy the Hero’



Morning had broken. The afternoon sun was shining forth, strong and
bright, as Lucy flew on the back of Goldie, following the highway
below, headed for Cooma.



This was intense. Goldie had flown with her on his back just
yesterday. And today, without Shelandragh’s permission, she had taken
Goldie and decided to go off on a grand and exciting adventure. Too
see what was out there. First she had flown the dragon to Chakola
from Bunyan, and rested the dragon near the crossing. She had
summoned the sprite Minxy with a spell to show her the dragon, who had
exclaimed, ‘Yikes. A Dragon. Shoo. Shoo.’ Lucy had laughed at the
Sprites animated behaviour. Minxy had, so she now started to suspect,
been acting deliberately cheekily towards herself. She felt the
sprite had been having a little fun with her. She was not sure if all
sprites were like that, but Minxy was certainly a most passionate
sprite regardless.



Leaving the crossing, she had decided to fly the dragon into Cooma to
the main street to show off. That would probably displease
Shelandragh greatly, but Lucy was in a rebellious mood that day. A
mood which was far from regular for the young miss Potter, but not
unknown of. She had decided, in her infinite wisdom, to fly to
centennial park to show the people of Cooma the dragon. It could make
her quite popular which, again, was not the most regular of attitudes
for young Lucy.



Flying along, she soon passed by Monaro High School, just on the right-
hand side of the highway on the northern side of Cooma. Her mother
had told her that she would most likely send her to that school from
probably year 8 or 9 onwards. It would round off her education with
the necessary teaching to prepare her for later university studies if
she so desired them. She had never explored the school, not being
allowed to roam around Cooma very often, but she had seen it from the
road and thought, when she was older, making new friends there could
be a great experience for herself.



Soon she flew over the big water tank on one of the hills of Cooma.
The big square steel one, surrounded by some bush and what looked like
a church. The park lay in the centre of town, just a few hundred
metres down the hill. She soared down, the dragon gliding dutifully,
and soon she hovered above the park. Almost instantly a number of
people started yelling and pointing at her. It seemed she had already
attracted the attention that she desired. She decided to show off a
little. She had been very careful sitting on the saddle that
Shelandragh had made in the weeks before the dragon’s could fly. She
was tightly strapped to the saddle with a number of straps, which made
it impossible for her to fall off the dragon. They were made of
hardened leather, and were quite thick and strong. She decided to
test them out.



She flew the dragon in a great nose-dive downwards and then zoomed
right up again into the sky. This brought the desired cheers from the
gathering crowd, who had come from everywhere to see the spectacle.
It worked well so she decided to do it again, with the same desired
effect of cheers coming again. She flew around in circles for a few
moments, thinking over her next feat. The straps did in fact appear
to be holding without any problems, so she decided to do something
bold, if the dragon could possibly manage it. Communicating to the
mind of the dragon, which she had instinctively been able to do with
the dragons after a couple of weeks, she asked Goldie if he would like
to do a loop. ‘I am not sure, Lucy. If you weren’t on my back it
would probably be easy. But with you it may be a little more
difficult.’ ‘Well, okay. But do you want to give it a try to see
anyway?’ ‘Well. Alright. I will give it a go.’



The Xtreme Kings, who had been having lunch in the park, munching on
burgers and soft drink, had been enthralled by the sight of the
dragon. They had grown up with stories from the old world rumouring
that dragon’s did in fact still exist. These were often compared in
the papers to stories with the same credibility as the existence of
aliens. But now, seeing what only could be described as a young girl
flying on a dragon, the Kings were enthralled. Ty, Jerry and Doug
looked on as the Dragon again zoomed downwards and then soared up
again in a circular style and, to their great surprise, doing a
complete loop. ‘Fucking hell,’ said Jerry, blown away by the sight of
the dragon doing the loop. ‘Bloody intense, this is,’ said Ty. As
the Kings watched on the Dragon and its rider did a few more loops and
various other acrobatic manoeuvres.



Hugo, upon hearing the news of an apparent dragon doing tricks above
centennial park, had rushed down from the bookstore, to see the
sight. There it was. A dragon. A real dragon. He had read a number
of books about the existence of dragons, taking a great interest in
the subject. He had

come to no definite position on wether they actually did exist or
not. But seeing what could only be a real dragon with a girl flying
it confirmed what he had only guessed could be true. Someone standing
near him said to him, ‘Its probably really some sort of super-jet. A
hi-tech super-jet made to look like a dragon. I bet its really
fake.’ Hugo looked at the dragon. ‘I don’t know. That sort of
technology is very hard to come up with for something that size and
with a girl riding it. And you don’t see any thrusters burning flames
or anything. Nah, I think it’s the real thing.’ The bloke speaking
to him, nodded. ‘Yeh, I suppose. But bloody freaky isn’t it.’
‘Very,’ agreed Hugo, standing there staring up at one of the most
intense things he had ever seen.



Eventually, after a parade of various acrobatics, Lucy decided to land
in the park to let the gathered crowd actually see and pet the
dragon. They probably deserved that much.



She spoke to Goldie and he slowly descended, coming to rest near the
concrete walkway along sharp street, next to the Snowy Mountains
Monument, alongside the park. The gathered crowd slowly approached.
‘Is the dragon dangerous?’ a voice asked. ‘No. He is harmless. He
is still very young and has grown up around humans. He won’t hurt any
of you.’ The gathered crowd, seemingly relieved at those words, came
forward. Young kids came and petted the dragon and anxious parents
looked on, often expressions of caution and concern on their face.
‘What’s its name?’ a young girl asked. ‘Goldie.’ Said Lucy. ‘He is
actually a golden-ridged Wyvvern, and not a dragon. They are very
similar animals.’



A number of questions came forth from various people, filling up the
next 20 minutes or so. Lucy sat there, beaming joy. This was
awesome, she thought to herself. It got the exact reaction she had
hoped for. Really cool.



Just across from the monument, on the other side of the street at the
St George Bank, Jeremy Bludstone, wearing a balaclava, had just exited
the now robbed bank, with a bundle of cash in a backpack. He had
walked in, and before the protective screen doors over the till could
close, he had place a metal stand between the counter and the screen
doors. When someone quickly pushed the button, the screen doors
quickly came down, but became jammed on the metal stand. He thought
the tactic would work, which it had. He had pointed his rifle at the
cashier who, the fear on her face apparent, had fill the bag with a
bundle of a hundred dollar notes. And then he had skedaddled.



Lucy, having looked around, spotted the man exiting the bank, wearing
a balaclava, with a rifle and bag. She thought, instantly, that he
had robbed the bank. Instantly she thought to herself – Magic.
Speaking to the mind of Goldie, the dragon lifted from the air and
rushed over to were the man was, having taken off his balaclava and
running up the street. She ordered Goldie to fly quickly and he came
up in front of the man, who came to a standstill. She pulled out her
wand, pointed it at the man, and yelled. ‘Drop the money. Crook.’
Jeremy looked at her, startled for seeing a dragon for the first time
in his life. He quickly came to his senses, though. ‘This is a joke,
right? You have got to be kidding me.’ Lucy continued staring at
him, and decided to bold again. ‘I said drop the money. This is a
warning.’ Jeremy looked at her, and a grin formed on his face.
‘Little lady. What the hell can you do to me?’ he asked, a smirk on
his face. Lucy looked at him. Her mind, surprisingly, was calm.
After the encounter with Lucifer, she was suddenly not overly bothered
by a man with a rifle. She was a witch. She could handle it. ‘This
is your last warning, robber. Drop the money.’ The man looked at
her. She was young, and he didn’t really think he wanted to have a
murder rap placed on him, so decided to point the gun at her to scare
her instead. In those few seconds, as Jeremy Bludstone slowly raised
his rifle with the intent of pointing the gun at Lucy, Lucy yelled out
with all her strength, ‘Freeze!’. A bolt of pure white light shot
forth from her wand, and the robber, soon encompassed by light, soon
froze like a block of ice.



Lucy came up to the man, and touched him. Yes – he was frozen. He
was okay, though. The freeze spell in her arsenal had preserving
qualities. The man would be frozen, but his body would be okay. He
would unfreeze after a while.



A short while later the sound of sirens could be heard. After a few
moments, three police cars pulled up along sharp street, and a number
of police officers quickly exited their vehicles, and cautiously
approached Lucy and the dragon. Lucy looked at the police and spoke,
‘I cast a freeze spell on the bankrobber.’ One of the officers looked
at the robber, and touched him. He was indeed frozen. He looked at
the animal that Lucy was sitting on. ‘What is that?’ he asked. Lucy
smiled. ‘A dragon, officer.’ He shook his head, not sure what just
to make of the situation before him. ‘Whatever!’, he said after a few
moments.



* * * * *



‘Lucy the Hero.’ Shelandragh read the headline from the paper in
front of her. She looked at Lucy, sitting in front of her. ‘Heaven’s
above, Lucy. Heaven’s above.’ She said, smiling, looking at her
young student. Lucy just grinned back. ‘I am not sure that being a
superhero was what your mother and Shelandragh had in mind in teaching
you magic, young Lucy,’ said Darren, seated opposite her. ‘Oh its
alright. You cast spells. Fight crime. All in a day’s work,’ said
Lucy, the spirit of mockery and cheekiness having come alive in the
last few days. Darren shook his head a little at the cheek of the
girl. ‘Well, at least if that Lucifer ever comes back, he will have
his hands filled,’ said Darren to Shelandragh. Shelandragh nodded,
knowingly. ‘That dark devil is way too much for Lucy. But, yes, I
see your point. Our young lady is probably ready for the challenges
life could throw at her.’ ‘If Lucifer comes my way, I’ll zap him,’
said Lucy. Shelandragh looked at her young pupil. ‘Yes. You’ll zap
him.’ ‘Well it better be a good zap, young Lucy. A good zap indeed,’
said Darren. Lucy just continued grinning.



* * * * *



Lucy looked at the medal of heroism the Cooma town mayor had presented
to her. It was goldish looking, and reminded her of an Olympic
medal. It read, ‘To brave young Lucy Potter. The citizens of Cooma
are forever in your debt.’



She placed the medal back on the shelf, next to her bed in her room in
Chakola. It had been an eventful week. Perhaps the most eventful in
her life. This year, so far, had been freakish for young Lucy
Potter. She had met sprites, seen dragons, fought warlock’s, and
caught a bank-robber. And the year was still not quite over with.
What the next year could bring, she could only wonder. But if it was
as exciting as this one had been, it would be a year to remember. A
year to remember indeed.



Getting back into bed, she pulled up the sheet covers. She lay there,
looking up at the ceiling. Staring at the luminous dinosaur stickers
who shone back at her. Who knows what next year may bring, she
thought again to herself. Who knows.



A little later on, the sounds of snoring coming forth from the Lucy’s
room, an owl sat outside Lucy’s window. It ‘hooed’, as owls hooed,
and the night slowly passed. It slowly passed by, going through its
allotted and most regular of duties.





Epilogue



David Potter, drinking from the dank creek, one of the few sources of
water he had found in his dark, nightly, home, sat there thinking.
After a while, the Shadow realm life was tolerable. It was forever in
night, and the feel of living in it was totally unlike the normal
world, but he had adapted.



He had wandered the shadow realm for years now. Years he could not
count, for time was measureless in this godforsaken place. There were
regular watering places, and a large supply of various fungus, which
were the only eating material. They were not pleasant food, but over
the years he had lived there had managed to cope with them.



He had met one other soul in his time in the Shadow realm. A centaur
named ‘Draxos’, who he spoke with regularly. He, likewise, had been
exiled to the Shadow realm to live out his existence.



David had continued to age normally and guessed he would probably one
day die here. And then, perhaps, the mysteries of the afterlife would
then be revealed. He thought on his wife Caroline often, and his
daughter Lucy. Although never having been a religious man, he prayed
a little for them from time to time. In this dark purgatory it seemed
there was little else he could do.



But, having finally managed to remember some of his old spells, which
seemed impossible to think of in this dark place, for whatever reason,
David felt, perhaps, he may eventually be able to leave this dark
realm. He had finally remembered ‘Shados’. The spell which
transported someone to the Shadow realm. And now, for the last year,
as much as he could guess what a year was, he had been trying to
remember if there was a spell to reverse Shados. It had not come.
Not yet come to him. But he would persevere. If he could remember.
If he could make that breakthrough. Then perhaps, just perhaps, his
exile would be over with. And the life he longed for with his family
could be returned to him. Returned to him with a new beginning for
the life of David Potter.





THE END