The Ultimate Power

A/N: All right. I know this is weird to post a story like this so long after DH was released but I've had this idea in my head ever since HBP came out. I actually had this posted awhile back and I took it down to rewrite it and change the plot slightly when it came to my OC (which I owe thanks to cocoalovespedro for the idea). I've had this outlined and planned out for about five years now so nothing about my story is going to change because of DH. Please enjoy! ^_^

~*~*~*~*~*~

No storyteller has ever been able to dream up anything as fantastically unlikely as what really does happen in this mad Universe.

-Robert A. Heinlein, Lazarus Long

Memory is the way we keep telling ourselves our stories -- and telling other people a somewhat different version of our stories.

-Alice Munro

The ideal, it seems to me, is to show things happening and allow the reader to decide what they mean.

-John M. Ford

Prologue

December 23, 2062

"Gram," Cahira calls as she walks to the enclosed back porch, where her grandmother likes to spend her time during this cold time of the year.

"I'm here, my dear, just watching the snow. You know how I do love this time of year." She never used to. When she was younger, she simply dreaded this time every year. But she learned, from someone wiser than herself in so many ways, the joys it can bring. Now, so many years later, with her hair more white than brown, she can still see those joys.

"I don't see why," Cahira says while she seats herself on the floor in front of her gram's slowly rocking chair. "It's cold and icy and absolutely no good for going outside. Unless you fancy turning into an icicle yourself, that is."

"Ah, but magical things can happen when it snows, Cahira. An old friend taught me that."

"Gram, of course magical things can happen. They happen all the time. We're magical. It's a common occurrence."

Gram chuckles as she gazes down upon her sixteen year old granddaughter. So young and innocent, she thinks. If only she really knew.

"Ah, my little warrior, there are so many types of magic in this world, on this earth. Triumph, love, misery, friendship; all mighty and wonderful and beautiful in their own special way."

Cahira watches Gram as she gazes out the window toward the falling snow. She has that far-away look in her eyes and Cahira knows, from sixteen years of experience, that Gram is remembering. She's remembering the things she has never wished to tell Cahira; the things from her youth in which only a small, select group of individuals know so well.

Cahira had asked her mother, Gram's daughter, once a few years back if she knew what her grandmother thought about in these moments. Her mother had sighed with a happy, yet somehow sad look in her eyes and said, "She's remembering the story. The one she cherishes and hates at the same time."

"What story's that, Mum," Cahira had asked.

"The one she saw and lived through. It's a story of fun and happiness; of sadness and misery. Mostly though, it's a story of love. The power of it. I can't tell it to you. I don't have the right. It belongs to her and very few others who witnessed it firsthand. She'll tell you when you're ready, but only then. Mum only told it to me after I told her your dad and I was engaged."

Then, as one lonely tear ran down her cheek she'd said, "Don't rush to find out, my sweet. It's a lot of emotions to take in. I'll always be glad she told me, but I don't think I was truly ready when she did. I still don't think I'm ready to know. I suppose no one really is, when it comes to something like that." And she'd turned away.

"You're so young, Cahira," Gram is saying now. "There's so much you haven't seen and have yet to learn. A lot in which I hope you never have to, but still, the point stands. It's easy to question things you don't understand completely. Trust me; I do know this. I spent most of my youth searching for the answers to things and in all the wrong places. Most of the important things I know today, I learned the hard way. Then, there were the select few who learned in an even harder way. And I was there through it all; I watched and I learned. Every day, there's a part of me that wishes I hadn't. That knowledge is there to stay, however, and I have shaped my life around those memories. I like to think I'm a better person for it, but who truly knows?"

"Tell me the story, Gram," Cahira says suddenly. "The one you think about so often and taught you so much. I'd like to learn and understand."

Gram stops her rocking and stares intensely into Cahira's eyes. It unnerves her slightly, but she stands her ground and doesn't shift her gaze. She wants to know. Even if it's difficult to hear, she's ready to.

Gram finally nods slightly and starts rocking again, slower than before.

"I suppose you're old enough and I do think you're ready. It's not an easy story to hear, Cahira, let alone tell. It's full of powerful feelings and emotions. Trust me when I say, you won't be the same after I finish. You'll see things in a different light; make choices based on what you learn. Parts of it will haunt you and other's will make you cry from laughter. It's a dangerous road to go down and I travel it every day of my life. Memories are like that, you know. Dangerous and fun all at the same time."

She looks at Cahira one last time before continuing.

"Well, I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning. Let's see..."

A/N: The name Cahira is of Irish origin and actually does mean warrior. That's why Gram calls her "my little warrior" above. =)