Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

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PART THREE: REBIRTH

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…Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end - Luna Lovegood

***

Chapter Sixty-Seven - Asylum

***

The Quibbler

SPECIAL REPORT: QUINCY NOLPHO, DEATH EATER

Here at the Quibbler, we've seen countless numbers of people and magical creatures fleeing the country after Quincy Nolpho's ascension to Minister role. It started with the Elven populous, leaving shops and offices within Violet Hill's commerce district bare and silent. Then came the Centaurs, of what little we had roaming the cities, leaving back for the forests. Even goblins have exited the scene albeit quietly and in the night. One after the other, with the winds of change Quincy Nolpho advocated for, each portion of our civilization has fled to the far corners of the earth.

Now with Quincy Nolpho's mandate for "marking" each individual, the next mass exodus should be us. This is beyond frightening. The Ministry, Quincy Nolpho himself, will know exactly where you are any time of the day. We've called him for what he is, a Death Eater, systematically misleading our own and destroying the fabric, and the betterment of Britain, Kingsley Shacklebolt laid down Post-War. We're done talking or writing with political correctness. Quincy Nolpho and his administration are evil. Please, do not bury your heads under the sand. This is very true and very real. Take every precaution and get yourselves to safety.

For those who don't believe, the rest of the paper will feature all evidence supporting his connection with the Death Eaters and Tom Riddle, including his new trophy we've seen on television: Sarilda Lestrange, daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange and second in command for Tom Riddle.

We will continue fighting for you and keeping you up to date.

For those who listen to Lee Jordan's Wizard Watch on 211.7, we will keep you updated on any new news throughout the day, every day.

Rebecca Greene

Co-Writer

Luna Lovegood

Co-Writer, Chief Editor

P.1

***

The Atrium, Ministry of Magic

Minister Nolpho, rather soberly restrained looks over the abundant press core lined within the Ministry's heart. Behind him, the golden statues of human and magical creature in smiles, laughter, resonates the polarity of his features and thereafter the reality unforeseen. His eyes mere squints focus and re-focus as camera bulb after camera bulb flash in tandem. In his business attire, with his businessmen and women his background, he tries resting his hands upon the Ministry podium, stamped with his newly crafted Ministry emblem, but instead grips its sides.

He looks maddeningly out at those who watch him as if he were holding back a multitude of emotions.

On his right stand his family, his two children and his wife.

On his left stands his Defense Minister, Sarilda, who is the most calm of the whole. Her poise is without question, very erect, very confident with her chin hoisted and nose up. Her demeanor, though, incredibly out-of-place. Far from her Minister's animalistic composure, his slumped body, his almost-growling presentation on his face.

"…I'll say it once more to everyone. This isn't politics. This is safety. I'm not playing games. If you want to live, if you want the freedom of knowing that we will be there for your defense morning, noon, and night, every citizen in this country must abide by Ministry rule-my rule. The magicks we will put on you will help us track you down quicker if you're in danger. This will be going mandatory starting today. After what you've seen yesterday, how the Order, Kingsley's men, how they come out and kill in cold blood-they have no code. They come, they murder. It is all there, black and white. You've seen it, we've seen it on television."

"Should you be scared, you ask? Yes-this is why we're implementing the magicks, for your own benefit. Think about it-no more need to worry about your spouse, your children, and your family. My own children will be getting magically scanned into the Ministry for our watchful eye. I will know where they are. We all will know where my children are all day, every day. This isn't a witch hunt, this is reality. This is what my government does to defend our citizens."

"How many do you know died while Kingsley Shacklebolt was in office before me? Why didn't he begin a mandatory program where he has constant watch over those he said he loved as brothers and sisters? You are all my brothers and sisters, and together we can be as one and stop these endless murders. My men will be vigilant for you so you can go on with your lives and do as you please."

"My question to you all here is: how many Death Eater attacks have there been while I've been Minister? The answer is: none. Not a single death, not one Death Eater. I know what I am doing, folks. I know what has to be done. You all voted for me, trust in me as you have."

"The article from Lovegood's Quibbler is an over-exaggeration. Look, I don't usually bring up media outside of what is considered mainstream, or what we all know is true, but they've taken lies to a whole new level against my administration. My Ministry works very closely with the goblins, first and foremost. We are kin. We also work hand-and-hand with the Elves, and we have worked and are working with other countries to secure the world. This is a step we must take in order to move forward and progress."

"No more questions," Minister Nolpho raises hand a gives a wave. "You all have a pleasant day."

A flock of protection, Nolpho's security men group around him immediately as well as his family behind him and Sarilda at his side. His Press Minister, Montblanc, takes the stage after the Minister's swift leave towards the Minister's private lift. One can hear the chatter of the press core as they begin to deluge Montblanc with questions over and above the normal chatter in the Atrium.

On the lift, having positioned his family in one as he and Sarilda on another, Sarilda looks at Nolpho and says plainly, "They're coming from the underground."

"How ironic-like rats from the sewer."

"They seem to want to overtake the Department of Mysteries, and up. Most of the Department has been destroyed."

"We're moving all of our resources now to Azkaban-not a worry. Let them have their victories. We will certainly have ours when that day comes. The Manuscript taken from the Vatican is invaluable to our next step-and you-with the resurrection of Him."

"My blood is His."

Nolpho smirks. "It truly is."

"What will you have us do if citizens fight the new mandate in tagging them all?"

"Round them up, bring them in and rid of the roaches. Leave no evidence if the Order drops in. By then, it will be too late. Their ignorance is brilliant. They might as well be all Muggles!"

"Marking them is most clever."

Nolpho smiles. "It'll be easier to find those and exterminate them when the time comes, starting with the Mudbloods."

"My Father will be most pleased when he is back on his rightful throne."

"He will, and when the smoke clears no one-not even the glorious Order-will be able to do anything about it."

From her stoic, robotic stance, Sarilda's ruby-red lips twitch to produce the most evil of grins.

***

A YEAR LATER…

July 30^th, 2002

New York City, New York

A MTV media van sits outside a vibrantly pink and black painted bus. One can hear a generator's buzz going keeping the contents of the bus comfortable from the blistering heat outside. A lithe female form, using her hands with excitement as she directs a cameraman towards the homely vehicle, speaks in front of the bus. Her hair is shortened from once was, her bushiness straight and voluminous, airy, the winds playing with loose strands. With a bit more colour to her skin, her vivid cinnamon eyes twinkle onward at the crowd behind MTV, and waves with grace towards the screaming crowd looking onward.

Her shirt of cotton, crimson with gold stripes, falls far passed her hips. The edge collides with a frilly skirt, and southward with black tights. One higher than its other, mismatched socks of darkly colours find their way into low-top Converse trainers. A brownish, rope-like belt holds the pieces together above her hips.

"Tell us a little about what is going on."

The camera's lens keeps stoic on the lively brunette after her wave towards the crowds.

"We love you!" is shouted clearly across the road, the barricade and police holding the fans back.

"Aw…," the brunette blows them a kiss. "I love you guys!"

The crowd erupts in an enormous cheer.

The brunette, a hand upon the bus's door, gives it a tapping. The door opens at her cue, and as she takes a step inside motions for the camera crew to follow her. "Come on inside where the brilliance takes place!"

"Welcome to the Punk Fiction tour bus, lads!" She turns around and begins to walk backwards through what can be considered their living quarters of the interior. A black leather sofa resides on the right of the MTV crew while the left holds a television and a kitchen space with sink. Far beyond that appears a refrigerator.

She motions towards the driver getting out of his seat before explaining in detail the blueprints. A large, muscular man gives a wave as he steps in leaving the bus a moment. "This is our bus driver, as well as one of our security members-bodyguard-and quite a good one at that. He's a part of the family, been around forever and a day!"

"You're all like my girls-so, don't be too hard on them," says the bodyguard, giving a smile and another wave before stepping off the bus, blonde hair of length unnaturally keeping still in the rush of wind. His final step can be heard, and then felt as his frame shakes the proximity.

"This," The brunette shows with her hands in circles. "This is like our lounge-slash-kitchen area-with satellite television, thank goodness. And here, here-"

She bends down to handles below the sofa and pulls out two matching compartments. "This is our snack area."

She looks up and into the camera. "As much as I believe we should all eat healthier, there just comes a time when we need to indulge a little. So, I have my salt and vinegar crisps, Gin has her Snickers bars and gummy bears…"

"Here are Val's spicy hot Cheetos and Toni's Jolly Ranchers bag," As the brunette rifles through the compartments, a swish of fiery red was seen in her peripherals. She stands up and calls, "Gin! Was that you?"

"No!"

"Come out here!"

"I've no make-up on and they've a camera!"

"Oh, Christ…," The brunette chuckles with a hand to her forehead, and then looks towards the roaming cameraman. "She can be a bit shy around strangers. Guess I'll show you the bunks now-and Gin!"

The brunette's giggle peaks as she tosses back the privacy curtain to see the fiery red-head pull a pillow over her face.

"Oh, come out beautiful."

Ever so slowly, the ginger peaks out and finally succumbs to a wave, a greeting, "…Hello. I've just bloody woken up. What time is it?"

"Nearly nine o'clock."

"Oh, bloody hell…it's too early!"

The brunette laughs and turns back to the camera. "This is the lovely Ginny Ross, otherwise known to everyone as Ginger. She is-absolutely-my rock."

"Aw…," Ginny, wriggling over, sets her arm around the smiling brunette. She sets her chin on the brunette's shoulder.

"We've been best friends and have worked together practically forever-since we could walk, really-growing up in a little suburb outside of London. Went to school together, university where we learned our talents, and all that fun stuff."

The brunette gives Gin a pat on the head. "But, we'll be quiet and let her sleep in this morning. Our rehearsal yesterday went a bit over, and into the night. We want to give the expected twenty thousand fans tomorrow night what they want."

The brunette begins to lead the camera crew down the aisle, leaving Gin alone where she pulls back the privacy curtain.

"And, of course, most of the profits on our tour go to help those families who were affected by the horrific event that happened last September-may we never forget."

"This, here," she pulls back a privacy curtain on the last top bunk on the right side. "This is mine-it's very comfortable even if it looks a little cramped. You see here all my pictures on the walls, special letters from fans-this right here is a particularly beautiful letter I keep from my mum back in Australia. After leaving for the States, they up and left the UK and settled near Sydney, the hometown of my mum and family."

A polite "excuse me" was heard from behind them, and as the brunette and the cameraman turns do they see another woman, in jeans and a simple t-shirt, dark curls of length swaying, as she shuffles to get by.

"Hey! You're not getting away that easily…" The brunette grabs hold of the woman's hand and pulls her into the frame. "We've a lot of shyness this morning!"

"I've just come from bed and I'm hungry!" The woman tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing an earring of size covering the top-most portion of her left ear.

"Say `hello' to the world, Isabella!"

"We're on television…?"

"Yes!"

"Christ, Jane-you know I'm no early bird!" Isabella ducks from frame and back behind the cameraman, scampering off.

"Isabella is our `mad scientist with a violin', as we say around here," Jane motions further inside the bus, brushing passed a shower, some cupboards, and another sink. "She's been teaching me since April how to play the violin as cleverly as she does. I'm hoping tomorrow night I can show off some of what she's taught me-of course, with the scientist herself there with me!"

At the back of the bus sits a black leather sofa in the half-rectangle, U-shape. Jane flops down and kicks up her feet. "And this here is my favourite spot on the bus. It's where we all gather and think of new songs, new melodies, new harmonies with the guitars, the violins, the keyboarding done by my lovely Gin, and consider the bands we'll be playing with to create the best experience for our fans. It's also my second-bed."

She laughs, rose settling in her porcelain cheeks. "After a long night on the road working on the new album, I'll curl up with a few pillows, a blanket, flip on the TV-look at this!"

She picks up and clicks the remote control.

A flat screen television rises from a hidden area inside the faux-wood wall.

"That's just the coolest thing ever," She presses a button on the remote again and the television descends. "And, yeah-we go city to city, playing our bleeding heart out and having a brilliant good time doing it. Pretty cool, right?"

"That is pretty damn cool, yeah," the cameraman finally speaks, his authorized MTV cap on. "May I ask you a few questions? Or, some questions given from fans?"

"Sure!" Jane lays her hands in her lap, a grin on her face.

"How does it feel to be one of the youngest groups to tour the US? Any hopes in going International in the future."

"Hoes does it feel? It feels wonderful! And, to share that feeling with my posse of girls, doing what we do best and loving every minute of it-what's not to feel other than pure happiness? We've all toiled away here and there, and we're finally here-we're in New York City, some far, far away from our hometowns-Isabella's from Oregon, Val's from South Africa-and we're about to play in Madison Square Garden."

Jane reiterates, using her hands to break up the words, "Madison. Square. Garden."

She laughs, the lights shining in her eyes. "It's amazing. And, yes, we've absolutely debated and decided to go International. We don't have dedicated plans yet; but, Virgin Records as well as my agent, Magnus, are in the midst of sorting a schedule for the fans. Maybe in a few short months we'll have it together and put up on our website, www.punkfictionrecords.com."

"One question asks, `how does Tonic stay so chipper all the time?' A bit bluntly put, I say, but nevertheless after all that has happened, especially here."

"We, and a whole collaboration of bands and musical minds, have taken arms to help the victims. Anything we could possibly do, we're trying. As said, the majority of our concert proceeds go into a September 11^th fund," Jane squirms, raising a leg to place it under her bum. Her right arm crawls across the top of the leather sofa. "As to my happiness-or our happiness, as we're all very happy to do what we're doing-it's the bond. We're really close. Gin and I are best friends, and now I've got three more. I wake up every morning knowing that God gave us life not to spurn, but to enjoy. I try not to scowl, or frown-I try and see the best things in life, however difficult it may be right now. I love my family. I love my extended family-"

Jane motions off behind the cameraman.

"I'm just extremely pleased and honoured to have been given privilege, and opportunity, to do what I can and have fun. That's a philosophy of mine. You've got to really enjoy what you do in life, and this is it for me. And, always keep your chin up."

"Well said."

"Thank you," smiles Jane, her brightly-white teeth showing between naturally pink lips. "Accentuate the positive!"

"Exactly," answers the cameraman. "And, there are rumours in the rumour mill that there might be a surprise in the works for tomorrow night's concert? Can this be verified?"

"Hm…," Jane puts a digit to her cheek. "I don't want to just come out and spoil anything…but, when haven't we given surprises to our fans at every concert? This time, a certain guy we know-and an idol of mine, really-just so happened to be in the neighbourhood. A man who very much supports the cause, and has supported great causes throughout the world. So…"

"Yes," Jane winks. "Surprise indeed."

The cameraman laughs. "We'll just have to let the audience stew with that reaction."

Jane, her cute, little button nose scrunching with a laugh, says with a bit of a shrug, "Sorry guys and gals!"

She then points at the camera. "But, we'll definitely be seeing you tomorrow night!"

***

In the shadows of an advertising billboard atop Madison Square Garden

Within a sharp draft blew in a brilliant white cloak. The winds, however, didn't stop so suddenly afterwards. A gust, and then another blew against the backside of a tiny form clad in a black tunic , white tights upon her legs and arms, and two very used, and very worn leather boots. On her back, the winds shifting her dancing locks in a sway, held a quiver of coloured bolts aside a heavy crossbow. In fact, the crossbow hung the length of the tunic, and the weight, one could say, should have overwhelmed the small woman. Several odd gadgets and gizmos, a tool belt of sorts with a satchel hooked to her hip, wavered at her tilt.

She didn't much care for who stood, now, behind her. She stared almost trance-like down below at the crowd, the bus, and the commotion carried by the surroundings.

The white cloak and tunic behind her, the loose parts blowing forward to showcase his frame three-times the size of her, noted her isolation, how she stood alone. "I see you've declined to conceal your lobes now."

Her cerulean eyes affixed to the situation at ground level twinkled in the breaking sunlight between overcast skies. She merely scoffed at his abrasiveness, replying with sarcasm, "Always the clever one, you are."

"Why are you here?" The white cloak now stood aside the woman, her face, her features perfectly sculpted and severely out-of-place in what could only be considered the norm.

She stood with a lean against the billboard's supports, a foot across the other so her alabaster tights looked as if joined as one if not for the break of cracked leather. Her arms, though, assumed their togetherness, crisscrossed at her chest as she looked onwards. "Funny, I was about to inquire the same from you."

"You rightly know why I'm here."

"As you should with me, for it not the obvious I'd be elsewhere." She peered briefly at the Auror, his shaggy-red mess blowing easily in the swift breeze.

"You're desperately in need of a haircut," she noted in banter.

"For an Elf, you certainly know how to bite back. I thought your kind as always serious."

"And, I thought most humans were daft. I've nearly concluded that notion."

"I'm in hysterics, just on the inside, so bear no heed in me not doubling over in laughter."

The red lips upon the starkly bleached skin twitched with a curl.

"All joking aside," The Weasley-red, his hands on his hips, offered his gaze downward as well alongside the Elf's. "I'm here. You can exit stage left. I've got it."

"Have you heard from London, human?"

"Have you?" the ginger snapped back, seeing her gaze continue to dismiss him for yonder distance.

Quietness ensued, another cool breeze with the fresh scent of rain in the atmosphere swished through, between them. Only until the Auror could no longer take the noiselessness did he finally interject with, "…No, I have yet to hear from the commander. It's been months. But, the objective is Hermione-she'll be safe no matter the cost."

"And, I, too, have pledged her safety."

"I don't need you." He glared at her nonchalant ways.

"I would think, if safety is your concern that more offers for her protection would be greatly appreciated and accepted indefinitely," She turned, and without a blink, stared at him. "Unless you've some ulterior motive?"

The red-head left her stare with a gruff.

"Some advice from ally-to-ally," She resumed her watch over Hermione. "…Put your past fancies aside or realize the cost."

"I've already a mother," The Auror snapped. "I don't need another. And, what about Luna? Hm?"

He seemed to have struck a sensitive chord, the Elf becoming rigid at Luna's name. "…What of her?"

"You haven't seen her in months."

"…Genius. You're a genius."

"'Put your past fancies aside'-" retorted the ginger, mimicking her highly feminine tone.

The Elf's eyes widened, and then narrowed as her head swung to see the baiting freckle-nose, his shaggy red in his eyes. "She is my lover! I will not have you slander her name, nor use her as a tool to craft nonsense!"

"I don't see a difference."

"You don't see what difference, exactly? The difference being crystal-the fact that we're bargaining between my love for Luna and your schoolboy fancy for Hermione! Therein lies the difference, friend-surely your commander has driven into your thick skull the consequence of placing that in front of your mission!"

"Luna and I are intertwined!" the Elf barked. "Hermione's heart lay with Harry! Don't you see?!"

The red-head faded from her sight, looking away.

A quick pause, the Elf straightening her posture after the reaming she gave, issuing words she didn't wish to, and now wished she could take away the slap he received. "…Pardon my outburst, but-"

"No, you're quite right, indeed… I only wish…"

"I am truly sorry for-"

"No, I apologise for my stupidity."

"You're not stupid; it's just the times we live in, strained our beating hearts are to the brink of insanity. You don't know how I crave to be back in London with Luna, my heart, my moon goddess. She is the half that completes my whole."

"I'm sorry," the ginger ran his hands through his hair to get those strands from his eyes. "I really didn't mean to put Luna-you-she's-"

The Elf placed a warm hand upon the Auror's protected, padded shoulder. "It's quite all right, Ronald."

Ronald shivered at her warmth, and offered a smile in return. "Wow-you've certainly a golden touch there."

"It's not magic, either," she smiled, and then set her sight back towards the bus, and Hermione.

"You know…," The black material so alike her tunic, the pointed cap upon her head held to her crown by a braided leather band flapped with the heavenly blow along them. "I think we're just going to have to be friends whether you enjoy it or not."

The ginger gave a laugh, a snort, and said through an honest smile, his hands still on his hips, "I don't think I'd have it any other way."

"When do you think she'll remember…?"

The Elf's eyes went to Ronald, watching him a beat. "When the time comes."

"I was afraid of that open-ended answer." Ronald looked as if stunned when he saw her hand out to him, a bit of leather for friction wrapped about her palm connected to her wrist.

"It's Aedirwen if we're to be partners."

Ronald shook her hand firmly. "Aedirwen? What about-"

"'Tis my Hume name." She looked to know his next question, and abruptly stopped him. "She knows."

"Partners." He let go of her hand. "I like that."

Alice-Aedirwen-nodded.

***

July 31^st, 2002

Madison Square Garden

Jane, in a black corset, her creamy white skin shown through a webbed mesh of lace across her shoulders and arms, a black, frilly skirt fluttering behind her, comes bounding out of the blackness on stage. The twenty thousand stand up and cheer as she waves towards the crowd around her, above her and below her. She stands in the middle, having run straight down a partition out from the main stage. She gives everyone a kiss, their cheering drowning out her words at first.

You can hear her giggling, a microphone hooked to her ear.

She waves again, frantically, giggling at how lively the crowd is-butterflies in her stomach, the excitement of the audience growing within her, too.

"Good evening, New York City!"

The crowds scream, and all she can do is give one of her highly affectionate giggles.

"How are you all doing this evening?!"

She's caught again with an uproar, and she does a little jump, like all the others. She laughs, in smiles, and gives another kiss to the crowds.

She places her hands on her hips, black rubber bracelets and other bobbles jingling at her wrists. "I'll take that as a `Good'! Hehe… I'm so glad you all came to see us tonight!"

"I've only one question: raise your hand if you've never seen us perform before!"

Some in the crowd, as she peers out, a hand over her eyes as a spotlight has affixed to her position, raise their hands.

She puts her hands back on her hips, and she acts as if stern. "…And, why haven't you?"

The audience members laugh, cheering again.

"We certainly have a treat for you all tonight!"

"But first," she breathes. "I'd like to thank the city of New York, and of you all-we've raised more than one million dollars which will be given to charities around New York City to help the victims of September 11^th! So, give yourselves a huge round of applause for that! What a beautiful feat!"

Jane claps along with the audience, giving her signature grin of utter giddiness.

"Shall we meet the rest of the band, now?!"

The crowd jumps to their feet.

Jane does a swift turn about and makes a run towards the main stage, shouting, "Ladies, are we ready?!"

The stage is set with a keyboard on the far right, a rather large drum set in the middle, several microphone stands on the left, and various platforms ranging from short to tall with stairways up to them. Jane comes back towards the crowd as she makes her way back to the starting area, issuing the crowd a, "I think they're ready!"

"Our lovely, with me, on guitar, Miss Val Craelin!"

A tall blonde runs on stage, waving to the crowd, in similar attire like that of Jane. She does a bow when she gets to the edge. When she stands back, gives another wave to the right, and then to her left when she turns about and heads over toward Jane. They give each other a hug, and with another cheer, Val waves off into the semi-darkness of the theatre.

"Our passionate drummer, a bit mad with her sticks, and the only one that can keep up with our madness-Toni Rose!"

Neon pink strands with the same getup as Jane runs out on stage with two sticks in-hand, pointing up towards the ceiling. A tumultuous wave of exuberance befalls the crowd as they cheer on for the notable drummer, a true powerhouse who has emulated the best of the best, setting the pace for many of Punk Fiction's songs.

"The finest violinist! Our `scientist'! Isabella! Come on out here and meet our NYC fans!"

Isabella traipses out from black curtains and onto the stage.

She gives a girlish curtsey to the crowd, waving at their cheering and applause, and bounds with a skip towards the line beside Jane.

"And last, but definitely not least-my best friend in the entire world-Miss Ginny Ross, our fanatical keyboardist!"

Ginny dashes from the curtains, and onto centre stage. With both of her hands at her lips, she gives a kiss to the crowd. With matching attire, a bit of personality in each, she joins her clique, the line which has formed towards the audience. Each of them so humbly echo their pleasure, waving and thanking the warm welcome.

The cast of girls run off stage and into black curtains, leaving Jane alone.

"Can I hear a hurrah for the American Symphony Orchestra, as well, who will be joining us on tonight's journey?!"

The accolades of the theatre could be heard even outside the building.

"Are you all ready to see and hear the chaos in which we've brewed for you tonight?!"

The crowds cheer wildly, Jane with a hand to her ear and a scrunched up nose. "I couldn't hear you out there-"

She points out and up. "I said, `Are you ready'?!"

The crowd's cheer grows deafening, and Jane with her loving smirk, nods. "That's what I like to hear!"

"Lights please, Mister Special Effects guy, wherever you are!"

And, all the lights go out inside Madison Square Garden.

***

Lead guitar, Jane, through severely black mascara making her cinnamon brown eyes electrifying in the semi-bright spotlights smiles out at the crowd. Smoke and multi-coloured lights broadcasted to the audience in-beat with the rhythm she struck along with Gin in the darkened background, and Toni who transformed the Beethoven-rock piece into the modern world. She transitioned, Jane now at a standing microphone far out in the crowd, pointed out towards the blackness that was her audience and got a rousing cheer as her vibrantly pink-and-black guitar swung on her shoulder.

"How are you liking the concert so far?!" Jane said throughout Toni's drum evolution, pulsing her very being, the melodies shaking the stage. Jane garnered a rousing cheer from the crowd that set her eyes aflame, her mouth with a grin.

Val on one of the platforms and Isabella on her opposite kept the far sides of the concert hall alight and cheering, interacting with the people in their seats by getting them to their feet.

"Here's a little number that we've added to our next album, originally sang by The Cranberries, and truly holds certain warmth within our hearts here. Love can move mountains, lovelies-love conquers all-remember that!"

She struck chords, and the audience embellished Jane with another cheer over the trembling, paced beat.

With only a single light on Jane, and a constant light on the American Symphony Orchestra behind either side of Toni's enormous electrically-lit drum setup, she inched to the silvery, metallic head of the mic and pointed up towards the ceiling with a finger.

The Orchestra began with Val, Isabella's violin creating a harmoniously romantic and upbeat sound. Gin, in constant operation of the music synthesizing output, controlled that heightened lightness of the creation in hopes of producing that emotion so ripe within Jane's heart to everyone.

Jane's eyes closed slowly, and then opened with her first words, her Hippogriff and crucifix necklaces in-swing at her chest, "…All my life is changing every day in every possible way…"

"And, oh, my dreams-it's never quite as it seems. Never quite as it seems," Jane's hand went down, and with a strum alongside Val, her group and the orchestra, the piece of the puzzle fit all together. "I know I've felt like this before, and now I'm feeling it even more, because it came from you."

"And then I open up and see the person falling here is me-a different way to be," Jane pointed out towards her audience and smiled when an uproar of happiness happened, everyone in the theatre as one with feeling. She squealed with a giggle, stating with her own joy amongst her band and the Orchestra's continuous play between stanzas: "I love you guys! Best fans ever!"

The audience screamed ecstatically.

"I want more-impossible to ignore, impossible to ignore," She put her hand on her heart, the smile never ceasing as she heard those around her, and at her feet, singing with her. "And they'll come true-they'll come true loves!-impossible not to do. Impossible not to do!"

"And now I tell you openly: you have my heart, so don't hurt me! You're what I couldn't find!" On her hand, her ring finger digit kept a ring-the ring-even if it was unknown to her, thinking it something from her mum and dad, maybe a family signet handed down. Her head tilted, her hair over a portion of her face kept an eye hidden. She smirked, keeping beautiful pace with the rest with her guitar. "A totally amazing mind-so understanding and so kind-you're everything to me."

"All my life-this is for anyone who doesn't believe!-is changing every day in every possible way!" she giggled, the cuteness bringing chills to some of those immersed completely into Jane's performance, singing with her, and dancing. "And, oh, my dreams-is never quite as it seems, cause you're a dream to me-you're a dream to me!"

"Hehe!" she squeaked, scrunching her nose up at those around the stage's appendage she stood on waving at her and smiling, hopping on their feet, a multitude of female and male faces. She turned around, giving them all waves alongside keeping up with her band, skipping the length of the catwalk back to get back together with everyone. The spotlight followed her, gradually increasing in size until the whole stage caught its brightness.

Projected words of inspiration, quotes of hope strung along behind them on tall screens. Val from her side of the theatre, and Isabella from hers, met in the middle with Jane. Their backs to Jane, and everyone in smiles, carried on their melodies until the end where a flash of red, then white, and then blue exploded with heart-shaped glitter from designated spouts on-stage out over the fans.

The three girls were left breathlessly beaming.

***

Jane sat on a stool centre-stage, having been given a violin in which she held by Isabella, the rest of her girls waiting in the wings with much anticipation for what was to come: the surprise. In the subtle silence, some yelling out how much they "loved" Jane, to see her smile, to be asked by shout what the violin was about-what with the guitar her specialty.

"Oh, this little thing?" She held up a pink with black-stringed violin to the crowd, garnering praise. She held a microphone in her hand to her lips, giving a laugh when the crowd cheered with her action. "This-this is part of the surprise. You all know Isabella has been teaching me how to play? Well, tonight I'll get to show off-"

"Or, she hopes," replied Isabella in the background.

"Hey!" snapped Jane with her smile, the crowd laughing.

"So, how has the concert been so far?" asked Jane to the audience. She sat with her legs crossed comfortably in front of the thousands, in her element, talking as if everyone of them were like old friends. Her black tights kept to the environment, the dark back, with an over-sized white shirt on. The shirt had a smiley face on it, as if spray painted, with the words "Have a great day!" written above it. Her hair, her signature shoulder-length wisps, airy, and voluminous kept with her slight movements. "Good? Bad? Indifferent?"

The response, especially those in ear-sight, was a rounding "Good!"

She curled her naturally pink lips into a grin. "Awesome! That's great to hear! But, it's not over yet-nope. Before we begin, though, I've a little story to tell you. Some of you may have heard about my past-the difficulties I've had to endure, we all-"

Jane pointed behind her. "What we've all had endure. It takes time, and patience, and endurance, really, stability, sanity, and definitely loads of hard-work to get to where we all are here doing what we love to do. If it weren't for my family, my friends-my best friends behind me-I wouldn't be where I am today."

"And I've said before, but I feel the need to reiterate and emphasize in a world we live in today: it's difficult, but with trust, and faith, and hope, and love, we all-every one of you-"

Jane pointed towards the crowd with a sweeping motion.

"All of us will endure if we accept who we are, where we come from, and realize we are only human. We're definitely not superwoman or superman. We can only do what we can do, and we have to say to everything else to-well, if you believe in God, or something else, he'll take care with those things we have no control over. It is to believe in our own humanity the secret weapon of evil."

She laughed. "I know that may be a bit heavy for some; but, it's a truth I like to promote when I'm on the road, and in our albums. We shine the light on goodness because it's too easy to feel helpless. We're not helpless. We are all beautifully flawed human beings who should cherish the gift of life."

Applause was given in droves, and Jane smiled. "And, you know, being that youngster, that amateur listening and trying to emulate the best-I never thought in my wildest dreams I could be on stage and help create the same kind of atmosphere those legends can. But, I am happy to say that a certain individual heard our story, heard what we do with charity and how we're working hand-in-hand with those charities for the 9/11 families, and he wanted to help us help them."

"Have any of you heard of a little obscure band by the name of…U2?"

The audience leapt to their feet with tumultuous thrill and frenzy.

Jane grinned, the slightest of dimples appearing.

"Punk Fiction would like to think we're philanthropists helping the public, fighting world hunger, assisting the needy, giving back to those who give their lives for us every day-Mister Bono's band has been doing just that for years. He may not like to hear this, but I remember being in my room listening to U2 on the radio or on cassette… Haha… And, now, you all will be hearing, and experiencing, one of their most successful, most inspirational and feel-good songs-along with the best symphony orchestra ever! Give it up for these folks one more time!"

Jane hopped from the stool, giving a flamboyant swish of her hand towards the waiting group of instrumental prowess behind her. The members of the American Symphony Orchestra waved at the crowd, and between transitions, a man clothed in black jeans and a black shirt appeared to remove the stool from centre-stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my friends," began an enthusiastic Jane on spirited toes. "A beloved member of the music community, and a beloved member of humanity-Mister Bono!"

Bono, clad in a black leather jacket, a black tee and dress trousers came from ebon curtains. He had his own microphone in his left hand at his side, his right hand giving a rousing wave to the left side of the room to his right, and back again. Through violet-tinted sunglasses, he grinned towards the fury he made, of those jumping in their seats to get a better look at him on stage. He glanced over at Jane and the rest of Punk Fiction, put his silvery microphone to his mouth and said clearly through the cheers, "Aren't they a lovely group of girls?"

The cheering grew, and Bono, as well as Jane, laughed a little at each other's looks.

"If I mess up, it's because I'm still a little star-struck," Jane jested into her microphone, the violin propped on her shoulder.

"Nah, you'll do great-everyone here is great! A beautiful audience!"

The lead-up beat began for Beautiful Day, its evident popularity noticeable when the audience immediately knew the song before the first lyrics could be said. All smiles were on stage. Jane was in position to start with Isabella and the Orchestra, the bow at the strings. She looked back at Val, who had the biggest smile, on her guitar, and then to Gin who had the greatest of all smiles sans Jane's. Jane could be awarded with most enormous and most cheerful smile with the feeling of being at the peak of perfect, loved, and loving, giving her all and getting the best reward possible.

Goose pimples could be seen on her skin if one were close enough.

"The heart is a-bloom, shoots up from the stony ground! There's no room, no space to rent in this town! Come on, NYC-on your feet!!" Bono was at the edge of the stage, having run the catwalk down to the centre of the audience where he knelt to touch the hands of those clamoring for him. "You're out of luck-and the reason you had to care. The traffic is stuck, and you're not moving anywhere! You thought you found a friend to take you out of this place-someone you could lend a hand in return for grace-NYC it's a beautiful day! On your feet!"

"It's a beautiful day! Sky falls, you feel like-it's a beautiful day! Don't let it get away!"

Jane's smile couldn't be greater, looking at Isabella aside her while she showed off her new skill with the string instruments of the American Symphony Orchestra behind her. She turned to see Val, Toni, all in smiles-and Gin, her best friend, working the keyboard, her own eyes sparkling with happiness.

She had achieved it.

She had achieved it all, on top of the world.

***

Madison Square Garden, after the concert

Punk Fiction, always the ones to give, came from nowhere to surprise their fans after the concert. While the audience filed out and into the streets in leaving, they had all, by security escort of course, came by emptied passageway to meet-and-greet. And, they were met-with screams from their adoring fans, like a wave from one side of the street to the other.

Children with their parents were chosen from the rest at first, Jane and the band with treats in their hands, memorabilia in the form of their personal guitar picks and pink-and-black wrist covers, with one child in a wheelchair receiving an entire guitar signed by all the girls on the spot after their gift. The little paraplegic girl, teary-eyed, was given incredible hugs, the last with Jane who stopped to pose pictures with her and hug her over and over again.

Hand-over-feet, fans climbed atop another to have what they brought or bought after the concert, t-shirts, booklets, pamphlets-anything to do with the band including whole CDs-signed by the band. The girls happily scribbled away, having small chats with whomever's object they held. One guy told Jane, after giving her the jewel case of their album for her to sign, "I came all the way from India to see you in New York!"

"Did you have fun tonight?!" said a smiling Jane, two bulky security men at her side behind her, their lengthy, straw-like blonde hair falling over their black suit shoulders.

"We had a blast! My wife, and my two daughters! You girls are great!"

"Lovely! Thank you!"

"Hermione!" shouted someone in the crowd.

Jane's ears perked at the name, and became most confused. Cocking her brow, she looked around at who called as if she knew someone by the name, a long-lost sister she never quite got to know.

"Hermione!"

Jane turned to see a man, quite muscular, with short dark hair, tanned skin, arms locked with another tanned person, a woman, her golden curls dancing as they clawed they way towards her. They were looking at her in such a way…like they knew her, and she felt in the moment like she should know them, an empty void, a plummeting feeling in her stomach.

"Hermione!" he was at her now, just outside that space the security guards created where the fans knew not to break for fear of repercussion. Jane stood there with her mouth unhinged, her mind toiling at the situation, grasping, really, the name, the people she looked at and how her body wanted to move-to hug them, to say, "I haven't seen you guys in ages!"

Like family, but they were…

She'd never seen them in her life.

"Are you just going to stare at us like that?" the man laughed, glancing at the blonde he held onto as the crowds pushed to get a better look at Punk Fiction, calling Jane's name and the rest in order to gather their individual attentions.

"I'm sorry," she laughed a little. Jane eyes left them briefly, only to gaze at them again to study them carefully. "It's like I know you two-have we met somewhere before? I've been on the road now for ages. I apologize for not knowing who I see here and-"

The dark-haired male laughed loudly, as if this was the biggest joke in the world and he just got it. "Are you serious? With all the fame and everything, you've forgotten about me-Nathan, and Angelique? We went to Oxford together! You stayed at my house…?"

Jane's brain instantly turned to mush.

Her sight went hazy, and it felt like she could fall straight through the ground.

She put her hand to her forward, closed her eyes and heard what was a million chattering mouths become one, dull drone. She nearly toppled towards them.

This "Nathan and Angelique"…

"Just wanted to show our support, and say that you're invited to Angelique and my wedding, we're getting married-" Nathan noticed Jane's bobble, her waver, how she looked to trip atop him.

The security noticed, too, having looked away when a fan had gotten too close to the band, and pushed Nathan back as if he were the definitive enemy-that he'd done the worst.

Jane instantly felt sick, holding her stomach, trying to steady her breath as her headache gained strength.

"Hey!" yelled Nathan as he was pushed backward with ease. The two men, their cerulean eyes glancing back at him without care, kept their eyes on Jane. One took her while the other raised his hand to catch the attention of the other security members surrounding the rest of the girls. Each of them immediately addressed the crowd and hurried the band out with Jane in the front, carried by her security team members.

"What's wrong with, Jane?!" Ginny said as she hurriedly caught up with the men who clung to Jane, assisting her walk back toward the bus. "She looks sick! What happened?!"

"Nothing to be concerned about, Miss Ross…," said one of the men coolly, and with a gentle smile. "She's been complaining about having headaches as of late, has she not?"

"Yes-but she hasn't looked this bad!"

"We'll be getting you girls back onto the bus and into a private hotel room. I believe you girls deserve that, and not be cramped in your bunks after tonight's' brilliant performance."

"She'll need lots of rest, Miss Ross," said another of the security team, his cerulean eyes affixed to her. "Make sure she takes her medicine, and this time the correct dose. Okay? Doctor's orders."

Ginny, albeit with a quizzical look, nodded with acceptance.

She suddenly felt a whole lot better after just seeing and hearing the men speak.

***

Inside the Ministry Underground, London

"Commander! We've taken back the Ministry! It is ours!"

"But, we've found bodies-corpses-of innocent civilians. Tons. Nolpho's mark of death…we were too late. May God present peace to all their souls. We must stop him at any cost-and now with the Manuscript-it will be Tom they seek."

Draco, kept to his cane without Pansy at his side, hobbles the burning hallway corridors alongside the numerous white bodies flowing in-and-out of doors and room in search for any remains of Death Eaters. Those Death Eaters that were resistant could be heard, having been taken into Auror custody with one such Death Eater sputtering obscenities at Draco as he is pressed on by, bound by the magicks of the two Aurors who carry his immobile body.

"And, to you to, sir," Draco acts to tip his hat, hatless, and continues on with the group of Aurors at his side. "How have the Rose Brigade faired?"

Draco's eyes were set on the lift in front of him, his men having established connection to get it running again. He steps onto it as his scout answers, "Three are gravely wounded, six are injured."

"Have someone from the White Knights escort those men and women out and back to our Healers without a moment's notice. That's an official demand, tell them."

"Of course, sir."

The gold inlaid lift creaks as it moves upwards swiftly, and then bounds backward as it streams passed inferno after inferno deep beneath the Ministry, an all out warzone now kept under control by Draco's resistance.

Draco hangs onto a strap on the ceiling, as does his scout, his opposite hand gripping the silvery snake head atop his cane. "Where have they fled? Is it Azkaban?"

"Yes, sir. We have teams rerouted in chase; but, observational information obtained by espionage detail significant risks including a barrier they've placed around the prison and dragons about the perimeter."

"Dragons," Draco shook his head and scoffed. "They may be big and bad on the outside; but, they fall faster than a Muggle tank out of the sky."

"And the Dementors, sir?"

"Those may be a greater threat. Have a team designated specifically for Expecto Patronum. Shield the men and women at first breach. Surely the Dementor's will be first line of defense, usable pawns."

"We've gotten word, also, of the Elves having their sights aligned with ours towards Azkaban."

"Remind me later to thank them for their solidarity."

"The Americans have pledged allegiance in this fight; however, with their circumstance of late their numbers have dwindled significantly to fight their own war."

"Understandable, and I have no lesser appreciation for their commendations. Please issue a statement to the States of that appreciation, and how I have their utmost respect in these trying times."

"Ground level, Atrium," rang out the feminine voice from the lift.

The wrought iron gates swung open, and out stepped Draco, his scout to yet another destroyed scene. With much of the end-fighting happening here, the majority of the damage and casualties resound inside the Atrium. Flames still flicked in the far corners of the rotunda, the many glass windows shattered with their shards blown all over the flooded floor. The fountain had been ruin, demolished, a crater now where it once stood with water running freely from once it stood.

The injured, and those Aurors who tended the injured, stopped all actions when they saw Draco and saluted him, to congratulate him. Draco humbly bowed to each of them as he passed by, observing the state of the Ministry to the very last speck of cobblestone and burnt metal spread about the core of the magical government headquarters.

"Has a team closed the Floo networks?"

"Yes sir."

Draco, now at the far end of the Atrium, between all the cold and lifeless fireplaces, turned back around to see the destruction from the entrance and sighed. "It is an accomplishment, but we're far from done. Far from it…"

"Make an announcement that I want the leaders of every team up here of those teams who are inside the Ministry. They will be praised for what we have done; but now, we take it to their doorstep. They've nowhere left to go, cornered, our final stand-this will go down in history…" Draco's eyes gloss over for a moment as he thinks, ponders outcome after outcome, the pros and cons, the consequences of actions.

As quick as his eyes remained steady did they ignite back with life.

"Expect the worse," he spoke to the scout man-to-man, no authority, like a friend. "Tell your family that you love them. I don't know what we'll find within the Hell I know we'll be diving into."

"Thank you, sir."

Draco patted his scout on the shoulder, and then motioned him off and away to do as told…

…To be left shaking his head alone at what he saw, and what he could see in the future.

***

Just outside the New York City limits

"An unforeseen circumstance."

"She's waking up!"

"It can't be prevented. Will power will always overcome magicks, and her soul rejects what has been given to her. It's an instinct, a reflex, rather than conscious thought."

Ronald, with Aedirwen, stand amongst the manufactured forest, the park outside of the hotel the security team and bus driver led the band to in a more desolate part of the New York City suburbs. Both of them knew where their rooms would be, her room would be, their eyes in constant vigilance at the lightless window in the night.

"What do you think will happen when she comes out of it?"

"She will most likely go back-to finish what she started-"

"And be pissed off at me," interjected Ronald.

Aedirwen glanced at his interruption, and merely grinned. "In time, she'll understand everything. You are her great friend, a friend that has gone the lengths to keep her safe-that is admirable, and she will know it."

A breeze blew at their silence when Aedirwen said softly, "She won't leave you."

"I'll help her get Harry back."

Aedirwen's smile grew, and she nodded. "Exactly-we all will."

"It feels like the more we fight the change, we're only going to have to accept it."

"I'm not following."

Ron looked over at Aedirwen's focus. "Death-the Death Eaters, us, more bloodshed."

"The righteous will always prevail, my friend," nodded Aedirwen again with her smile. "Cast aside your fears and listen to the winds. He is with us. We will be triumphant-good will always triumph over evil."

Ron's hands climbed from the pockets of his Auror tunic and onto his hips. "Elves are nothing short than positive, eh?"

Aedirwen laughed with a sigh. "We are born with our Fate's already written. It's just a matter of our acceptance to do what is right, and allow Him to carry the rest. That's why we are how we are."

"Admirable," Ronald turned to the dark window of Jane-Hermione's-room, and said in a quieted voice. "…Very admirable."

***

From an undisclosed location within England

Minister Nolpho and Overseer Steelknuckles have just held a discussion with the Magical citizens via the Prophet Media News Network. In his broadcast, he has shown the people, the world, those responsible for the chaos and death that surround the new government-his government: the Aurors. Captured video has the bright white cloaks flinging spell after consuming spell wrecking not only the inside of the Atrium, but killing his men, those that "protect everyone"-the black cloaks.

"…As you've witnessed here, ladies and gentlemen, we are under attack. The Ministry has been taken by those who seek to kill us all. Between now and when we take back the Ministry, we want all of you to remain calm and to note how the goblins, and other magical creatures, are securing the volatile situation. We will change this for a better future-but, we are in desperate need of your help."

"Anyone seeing Kingsley men, you are advised to take them down. Restrain them by any means, or if in the case of killing them, please advise us with the Ministry's red sparks and we will come relieve you of the scene. All Curse bans have been lifted. Unforgiveable Curses, Cruciatus, Imperius, and the Killing Curse can be used and are urged to be used under these troubling days we have in front of us. With each capture or body your Ministry receives, we will be giving rewards in galleons. Your Ministry needs you once again to rid of these miscreants once and for all."

A black cloak from behind the camera, holding still on the Minister, raises his hand. He holds three fingers, and then two, with finally his last as the red light turns off and the camera is put down. "We're off."

From off frame, a black cloak's wand is pulled down to his side. In that moment, Steelknuckles's body falls to the floor, limp. Flies immediately attack his body, and Nolpho, as he steps away from the Ministry-insignia podium, steps on him with his clean business shoes.

"He smells awful," issues Nolpho, his nose in the air.

A black cloak replies from the darkness, "We found maggots in the corpse yesterday. It's been quite a while since we've killed him, sir. His body will begin decomposing, and no Imperius Curse will be able to stop it."

"Find formaldehyde and put him in a jar or something," Nolpho waves his hand around as if he hasn't the time, taking with his other hand Sarilda Lestrange who waited for him. With the hand on her lower back, he smiled, and said with a chivalrous tone, "Are you ready, my pet? The day soon cometh."

"And what a glorious day it will be!"

"Come-we must get to Azkaban for the final-"

"Sir!" A black cloak barged in, halting Nolpho's smirk, his words as he reels at whom so irrespectively infringed upon his delight.

His hand went to a pocket inside his jacket as the black cloaks states in a huff, clearly out of breath, "They've taken your wife and children! The Order has them!"

"And if they kill them, no bother," He shrugged, rummaging in his coat until he showed a separate grin. Having retrieved his wand, he pointed it at the floating obsidian and out sparked a hard, green light.

The cloak fell straight to the ground.

"And," he pointed his wand around at those black cloaks surrounding him. "That goes for all who dare interrupt me while I speak to Miss Lestrange. Understand? Or, do I have to kill another to get my point across?"

"Your `wife and children'," Sarilda mocks with a laugh, a hand at her lips, her eyes alight.

Nolph turned to her and grinned. "Even my own stupid mob cannot discern fakery and reality. I've never proposed to anyone in my life!"

Sarilda's evil smirk crept upon her mouth with just a small twitch at the corner of her lips. "But, of me?"

"You, my pet, are the treasure-my treasure…," Nolpho took Sarilda's hand and ever-so-carefully caressed atop it, never once looking from her gorgeously dark eyes smiling at him.

***

{Author's Note: I will be breaking the entire story into parts-as shown at the beginning-after the story is written in its entirety for better fluidity. I started doing this at one point in the past, but decided then as I do now to write everything out first. The story is still very much in progress. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Flames are shared with friends for a good laugh.}

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