Lucy Potter - Harry Potter Fanfiction - Noahide Books - Noah's Covenant (Lucy becomes a Noahide)

[Daniel Daly]

‘Lucy Potter’

(Lucy Potter Book One)

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



by Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly



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© 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.

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