[continued from previous message]   
      
   Witchcraft had been central for so long, caught up in adventures with   
   Shelandragh May, always, it seemed, fighting that bloody Grimlock and Lucifer   
   and those other dark lords of evil.  And Voldemort.  Her cousin Harry's long   
   term nemesis.  He never,    
   really, left her alone for long either.  Even though it had been a while now.    
   And that Damien Bradlock.  Him she hated, even though she didn't like to hate   
   anyone.  But he was so dark, in some ways making Voldemort look tame.  Him she   
   could really do    
   without.  But, it seemed, destiny had chosen her - a special child of destiny,   
   perhaps - and the dark lords of evil, for now, were part of that.  Perhaps,   
   some day, some fateful event would happen, some fateful choice, and they would   
   leave her alone then.   
     Satisfied in all their mean cruelty.  Satisfied that they had done enough   
   harm.  And then she could live a normal life.  A happy life.  Living with   
   Enrique, hopefully, God willing, having family.  Having all the things so many   
   others, witch and muggle,    
   took for granted.  But, it seemed, not yet.  Not quite yet.  There was a sense   
   of foreboding, especially in her dreams, that a day of reckoning was soon   
   approaching.  A day in which penultimate dark encounters would take place and   
   the life of Lucy Potter    
   would reach a pinnacle, and then?  Then a more calming and soothing existence   
   would finally be her reward.  But not yet.  Not for now.  For now the dark   
   lords of evil still had an interest in her and Alexander Darvanius himself,   
   one she really worried    
   about in his growing fame and power, would also, likewise have his day of   
   reckoning with Lucy Potter.  Perhaps, in his own way, the darkest of the lords   
   of evil.  Perhaps, in his own way, the one to be feared most of all in the   
   end.  Perhaps.   
      
   She bit into her apple, noticed that Daniel had lied down and was snoozing in   
   the afternoon sun so, finding a place to likewise lie down, she finished her   
   apple, drank a little juice, and put on her iPod, mellowing out to old   
   Evanescence songs, drifting    
   away in the warm summer afternoon, happy, content and at peace with life for   
   the most part.  And, perhaps, just that little bit more normal.  Just that   
   little bit.   
      
   *   *   *   *   *   
      
   She was again at the little park, just betwen the pool and Centennial Park,   
   Daniel had gone up to his house in Cooma North,and Enrique was still away.    
   She didn't have her iPod with her today, instead she was down here to   
   contemplate her situation again.    
    In so many ways witches and wizards lived similar experiences to muggles, but   
   it was still a different world as well.  But Lucy had always known Madalene   
   and her family, and she had lived in the real world and the world of magic, a   
   dichotomy of    
   competing ideologies, for so long that she was both of them in so many ways -   
   witch and muggle.  But now, with the last number of years in Canberra, talking   
   with Daniel and Aaron, the children of Haven as they called themselves,   
   learning about Noahide    
   ways more so, finally connecting with what she had committed to in days of   
   youth at Chakola, finally seeking out her faith and questioning her   
   witchcraft, it was indeed the witchcraft which was questioned, and the muggle   
   world which was ruling her heart.    
    But could she ever deny the strange powers within her?  Could she ever deny   
   her father, or her cousin, or the power in the Potter name?  Could she?   
      
   But she had.  What was she saying.  She had.  Hadn't she?   
      
   She knew the passages in the Torah about witchcraft well now, looking at them   
   more so in recent years, and sometimes she wondered what the witches of old   
   really believed in about how it all came to be?  So many answers in so many   
   questions.  Shamans and    
   witch doctors and buddhist priests and scientists all said so many things   
   about how it all came to be, and in so many of the cultures she had learned   
   about there were ancient creation stories, all of strange origins, as much a   
   flight of fantasy as a    
   secular scientist might propose, but for the one from the Canaanite culture,   
   were the bull god Elohim surfaced in the faith of the Hebrews as the supreme   
   creator power of the universe, it became so much more than just legend with so   
   many.  It became fact.   
     And if the witches knew this power, as it grew, why had they never really   
   acknoweldged it?  Why had they continued on in their witchcraft, if it was so   
   wrong, if they had no other real answer to the power of life apart from magic   
   itself?  For that    
   religion, the one she adhered to, the one so much of the muggle world revolved   
   around, hated witches.  Why?  Why?  What problem did God have with his devoted   
   daughter Lucy Potter?   
      
   And then, in recent years, Shelandragh had been speaking to her about the   
   source of magic, and the spiritual powers.  And while she was an animistic   
   witch, and the power mostly came from within, the world of witches used,   
   often, powers from a different    
   source.  A - darker - source.  The dark magic, as Shelandragh called it.  The   
   dark power of the dark lords.  The sovereign will of evil itself.   
      
   But this was not the power of Lucy Potter, and she believed, in her heart,   
   that what lay within her, her own spiritual magic, was good magic.  White   
   magic.  She had never used it for evil.  Never.   
      
   And was this white magic ok with God?  Did God actually give her this gift?    
   Was this a power from him?  Like the gifts of the Holy Spirit for Christians,   
   was this a good thing?  Was it, as the lightworkers maintained, a source of   
   goodness and healing in    
   the world?  Or was it the devil, robed in garments of light, speaking false   
   words of goodness and love, a hidden power which had claimed her ancestors,   
   the first of the Potters to succumb, and had made arrangements for the powers   
   he offered, camoflagued    
   in goodness, yet with a horrible and hidden contract, a contract in which her   
   very own soul might be claimed one day.  These were her fears.  That Potters   
   and other families in the craft were victims, sold to the dark powers in   
   ancient agreements, and    
   the magic they loved so much had cost them their very salvation.  Lucy would   
   not allow that.  Lucy would never allow that.   
      
   She thought on the Hover spell, and how it controlled atoms, somehow affecting   
   gravity around the item, so Shelandragh told her.  And that how the formation   
   of the spells, their intricate components, was done in the spirit world, were   
   other powers worked    
   and granted the spellcaster their will, and that some were chosen and the   
   lucky ones to inherit these powers, more special than the mere muggle who was   
   nothing to be considered to some.  Nothing.  And even Lucy had suffered from   
   some of that pride, a    
   halfblood, never really considered a proper witch by some of the elite in the   
   magical community, never really considered one of them.  And, in the end,   
   perhaps they were right.  Perhaps she just wasn't one of them.  Perhaps she   
   was Carolines daughter,    
   and not David's, really.  Perhaps she was a muggle in the end, even chosen for   
   this strange salvation which Torah spoke of, learning the rules of God, and   
   living a holy life.  Perhaps, in the end, that was the better choice anyway.    
   The sensible choice.     
   The holy choice.  Her choice.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)