-Serial Story #2-

'Seventh Heaven'

---

A Triwizard Tournament, six new and unexplainable seventh-year students, and music everywhere. Unusual?

For some reason, Louis Weasley is the only one who notices anything strange. Where have they come from? What are they here for? Why do they make people happy by simply humming a tune?

With muddling dreams that damage him every night, Louis is soon caught up in a world of mirrors, music and a silvery voice that calls to him every night. But will he ever find its source?

---

Prologue - Gathering.

***

Ireland.

On the Outskirts of Dublin.

2016.

*Click play on this video before you begin reading this section and patient with your speed of reading. This adds to the scene completely and is the basis. I own none of the music and do not claim to.

The spirit watched with his silvery eyes as the drummer began the opening bars of the final Oasis tribute song. ‘The Importance of Being Idle’ thundered across the dark club where a romping Irish audience cheered and roared.



“I sold my soul for the second time

Cos the man, he don't pay me

I begged my landlord for some more time

He said "Son, the bills waiting"



My best friend called me the other night

He said, "Man, are you crazy?"

My girlfriend told me to get a life

She said "boy, you lazy"



But I don't mind

As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine

I'll be fine

If you give me a minute

A mans got a limit

I cant get a life if my hearts' not in it”





And that’s when she pranced forward, clutching her guitar with a wide, beaming grin on her face, to begin the guitar solo. The crowd wasn’t just roaring now – more like screaming as this pretty Irish rocker played the solo they knew and loved. He himself wasn’t yelling at the top of his lungs, but a wide smile had cracked across his face.  It was her style all right, the intricate and catchy music along with a bright spotlight in a dark pub.

Her magic was in full swing now, the energy in her body at a peak. No one else seemed to notice the golden glow in her eyes, the way she savored the taste of the sweet music.

But suddenly her guitar solo was over. Suddenly her body was replenished, her senses were heightened. Suddenly she was staring into his silvery eyes.



“But I don't mind

As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine

I'll be fine

If you give me a minute

A mans got a limit

I cant get a life if my hearts' not in it”



This girl was unlike most of them; she was bulletproof, sturdy, playing her guitar with energy and light. But now her eyes dimmed and the chords of the verses were being played robotically. All she could do was stare into space – mostly at him. In the hype of the moment, nobody noticed. No one except him.



“I lost my faith in the summertime

Cos it don't stop raining

The sky all day's as black as night

But I'm not complaining



I begged my doctor for one more line

He said "Son, words fail me"

It ain't no place to be killing time

But I guess I'm just lazy”



The crowd was cheering again and she snapped off from her daydream. Throwing up her head, the wide smile dawned and they began the last chorus, the drunken Irish audience singing along rowdily as the band members grinned. He was singing along too, from his place in the crowd. Just loud enough to she could hear him. Just so she knew he was still there.



“But I don't mind

As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine

I'll be fine

If you give me a minute

A mans got a limit

I cant get a life if my hearts' not in it”



And with the last heavy drum beats sounding throughout the club, the members of the free-reined Irish small band leapt into the crowd and became swallowed by their drunken fans. The girl didn’t hesitate either, despite there being a number of young men swarming around her as she leapt down off the stage. But she tactfully removed them, making her way through the crowd for cheek-kisses and slurred ‘well done’s from the audience. The spirit was still smiling, watching her as she talked in her strong Irish accent to the drummer who had followed her off the stage once he’d ended the song. It was a moment after that that her chance came, as the girl pushed the drummer towards a blonde woman in the crowd to have a snog and gain a hearty cheer from the crowd.

And as this distraction took place, the girl herself slipped through the laughing audience and found her way over to the empty space where he was standing, turning her pale brown eyes open him in an ominous manner.



‘’My lord.’’ Above the screaming of the crowd she was scarce to be heard. But he heard her.



‘’Liza.’ He nodded, looking down at her.



There was a pause, then she took a breath. ‘’It’s time, isn’t it.”



He smiled. ‘’Yes.’’

***

Russia, St. Petersburg

In a suburb theatre.

2016.

*Click play on the video before you begin reading this section. You need not listen to all of it, but it adds to the atmosphere and scene. I own none of this music and do not claim to.

Folding her wings in a graceful and despairing arabesque, Odette fluttered on her points in a hopeless passion that once again kept the entranced audience silent. Yes, at that moment there was no muttering, no crackling of sweet packets – no one moved in the ground. One and all were entranced by the beautiful music and the equally beautiful Russian ballerina.



He was one of those who were entranced, but now his expression changed. The spirit’s face beamed a warm smile and his eyes glowed slightly as he watched hers sparkle with a different tone. She was one of the few who danced rather than sang, and had made a big name for herself in the harsh business of ballet. Even though she had darkened her hair and wore a false name, he new her only from the way she passionately danced the dying Odette with the perfect levels of grace, talent, and a lost, hopeless beauty.



The gold in her eyes was brighter now as the dance reached its peak. The dying swan began to fall and the girl danced slower and slower, falling into the depth of an imaginary lake as the creature drowned in the icy water. Tumbling elegantly, the girl fell to the floor once more, lying still as the music came to a stop and he himself stopped playing the violin he cradled in the orchestra pit.



The applause was deafening – twenty curtain calls came as she took bow after bow, white roses flew onto the stage from loving hands and the Russian public screamed their approval for the talented and beautiful ballerina.



It was when she was taking what must have been her twentieth bow that she saw him, almost toppling over in surprise as he grinned up from the orchestra pit. With the composure of an experienced dancer, she was soon smiling again, her curtsy ending with grace. But her eyes weren’t on the audience any more.

Staring at him as she withdrew from the bow, she raised an eyebrow in question, soft eyes wary. In answer, he nodded and smiled.

“It’s time, Freya.”

***

Fregan - a large town fifty miles from New York.

In a simple theatre.

2016.

The girl was nervous again; he could see in in her body as she found her lace on stage whilst he watched from the wings. The slight trembling of her hand and she reached up to smooth her dark hair, the lack on conversation between her and her fellow performers, the wary glint in her soft brown eyes. People always expected Spaniards to fierce and temperamental; but this girl was not like that. Ever since she had discovered who she really was, her attitude had been silent, withdrawn, watchful.



And that was why she particularly loved theatre. Not just because of what she was, but because she could become a different person. She could forget herself and what she had done in the past. Helping on the wrong side in the Spanish Civil war hadn’t been as much of a crime as she clearly thought so, but it had scarred her for life.

But now, as she placed on a dark blue wig and adjusted her tight and somewhat revealing dress, there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips. She said something to one of her backing vocalists and he grinned – as did the spirit as his heightened senses caught the words.

‘’You know, I just love California.”



He chuckled as she accented the ‘love’ in a perfected American accent. No one would ever guess this Katy Perry substitute was from the depths of Andalucía. 



Her smile faded, though, as the presented of this Katy Perry tribute gave them the thumbs up as he walked on stage and slipped out to stand in front of the curtains. There was a pause, then his voice boomed out as the nervous Spaniard on stage gave a nervous twitch and swallowed heavily.



‘’And now, would you please give it up for our wonderful substitute for your favorite Pop Princess, singing the ever-awesome-‘’

The spirit watched the performers on stage cringe despite the tense circumstances.

‘’-ROAR!’’

---

*Click play on this video before you continue reading this section and be patient with your speed of reading. This adds to the scene completely and is the basis. I own none of the music and do not claim to.

---

The curtain began to rise, the presenter moved to the side, the catchy beat began to thump. But the Spirit was still watching the nervous girl on stage.

One hand coming to rest on her slender hips, her head lifted, a sassy smile beamed and she became her character entirely; leaving behind that Spaniard who had trembled and twitched on the stage a few seconds ago.




“I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath

Scared to rock the boat and make a mess

So I sat quietly, agreed politely

I guess that I forgot I had a choice

I let you push me past the breaking point

I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything



You held me down, but I got up (hey!)

Already brushing off the dust

You hear my voice, your hear that sound

Like thunder, gonna shake your ground

You held me down, but I got up

Get ready 'cause I've had enough

I see it all, I see it now



I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter

Dancing through the fire

'Cause I am the champion, and you're gonna hear me roar

Louder, louder than a lion

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!”

The audience had been expecting a crappy put together of songs from their favorite artists, lacking the electronic hype and the harmonized backing singers that usually assisted the songs. They had expected to be mildly amused.

Boy, were they wrong.



It was her magic, he knew, that and her character as she threw herself into the role of Katy Perry with everything she had in her. The backing singers were only doing half the work – it was her influence that made their talent enhanced, it was her presence that added the electronic backing. It was her presence that had the crowd on their feet, clapping to the beat and attempting to sing along with real joy in their faces.



He was singing, to, as she began her first ‘roars’ and belted the sound across the entire theatre. She would do well. This was why it had to be her to add to the team. She had known it all her life, that her talent was overwhelmingly powerful. She was the key to fit the door. And that door that needed to be opened.



“Now I'm floating like a butterfly

Stinging like a bee I earned my stripes

I went from zero, to my own hero

You held me down, but I got up (hey!)

Already brushing off the dust

You hear my voice, your hear that sound

Like thunder, gonna shake the ground

You held me down, but I got up

Get ready 'cause I've had enough

I see it all, I see it now

I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter

Dancing through the fire

'Cause I am the champion, and you're gonna hear me roar

Louder, louder than a lion

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!”





Yet more ‘roars’ began as this unrecognizable girl pranced around the stage. The audience was screaming, loving it. She held out a hand and they were out of their seats, reaching up hands to high five. Because that’s what she did. Despite her negative view she had on herself, everyone loved her. When she sang, that is.

(*The 'oh's represent a different kind of sung syllable - listen to the song and you'll see)

“Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

You're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

You're gonna hear me roar!”



The dark look retruned to her eyes as she began the bridge of the song. The Spirit watched. He knew that dark look. It wasn’t a Pop Princess look. It was a gaze that the Girl had tried to forget, to rid herself of. But that could never happen. It was part of her. If she didn’t have that, then she wouldn’t have the power that she held and used right there on stage. It was a miracle she hadn’t gone over to the other side – the side she had been half born to. How fortunate her father, a fine wizard, had saved her from the darkness she could have been drawn to.

But it was still there. Borderline Dark Creatures were the most powerful of this world – and she was one of them.



”Roar, roar, roar, roar, roooaaar!”



And that’s when the sassy pop princess smile returned, her eyes returned to their normal shade of light brown, and her last verses began.



“I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter

Dancing through the fire

'Cause I am the champion, and you're gonna hear me roar

Louder, louder than a lion

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!”



Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

You're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh



You're gonna hear me roar!”



The applause was deafening as the crowd remained stood and walloped the loudest sounds they could make out of their hands. Carlotta smiled and took a bow, nervous look returning slightly as the music ended. But then the spirit realized why this demeanor had returned.



Reaching for her guitar for the next number, she look up at where he stood in the wings and gave a quick, curt nod.



Carlotta understood.

***

*Click play on this video before you begin reading this section and patient with your speed of reading. This adds to the scene completely and is the basis. I own none of the music and do not claim to. 'All That Jazz' starts at 1:31 on the video if you want to skip the overture.

Atlanta, Georgia.

One of the larger city theatres.

2016.

‘’Overture and beginners, please.” The producer instructed, at once signaling the orchestra to begin the hyped and energetic into to ‘Chicago’. The bluesy tones of a solo instrument droned slowly and then-



It was as if the music had a wild effect on the backstage atmosphere as well. As soon as the score became fast-paced and somewhat chaotic at the same time, catchy, preparations began to become a wild frenzy. However, the spirit was one of those who stood there grinning, ready in place as a chorus dancer and humming along to the whirling overture.



But now the director was on stage, all of a flap as he tried to perfect the chorus look and make sure the opening was as superb as possible so as to live up with previous standard. Now, rushing around the stage, he lost all dignity and instead looked like a confused parrot that had mislaid a mango.



“You there! Smooth your hair you look like a clown. And Fleming, that arabesque is not the first position; I think you’ll find Tina here doing it correctly. Stop grinning and be serious, all of you. Yes, all of you – especially you.” The nervously whispering director had paused as he came to the sprit and raised an eyebrow as the spirit attempted to smother a grin.



“This is Chicago – it’s not meant to be funny, man! Now stop smiling and smooth your hair, you look like a clown!”



The director was still ranting but the spirit had stopped grinning. He was laughing inside, though, as the music got to loud and exciting that all he saw was an agitated and panicking young man mouthing at him with annoyance.



But now the director had turned as the lights went dim and the orchestra neared the end of the overture. However, sweeping a careful glance round a stage that was dotted with dancers in perfected positions, he discovered that the main feature of this grand opening song was noticeably accent.



The director turned back to the Spirit with panic. “Where is she?!” The director grabbed his arm. “Where the hell is Velma Kelly.”



“I believe Miss Roland is currently sorting out the last pieces of her costume.” Answered the spirit, pulling his arm loose and again restraining a smile. Of course the girl had to have her clothes right. And of course, she had to be late and drive the director and stagehands into a worrying mess.



“What!” The director squawked, clutching his hair. “But – oh my god, where the hell is she?” He glanced wildly up at the stage platform that was unsurprisingly empty without its glittering jazz star.



“Clear the stage, please.” A calm technician called form the wings. “Curtain up in thirty seconds.”



The director, in horror, looked once more at the empty platform and scurried off, leaving the other dancers sniffing with humor to themselves and grinning at each other. Only he was the one in the dark; the rest of the cast and crew, after touring with their stage starlet for four months, were used to this last-minute loss. Only the new and innocent director was worrying.



The Spirit glanced up at the bare space where she was meant to be before turning back round. The crazy overture was coming to an end and the lights were now completely out. Only those closest to the stairs that connected the upper platform to the lower would have heard the clacking of heals as a dark-skinned beauty reached the spotlight just in time. The orchestra ascended its scale, the curtain began to rise, and this new arrival lifted her head to beam a smile across the hushed theatre.



Velma Kelly, not the beautiful muse who he knew and needed, did not notice him as he skidded past her in the first steps of the dance to join the chorus on her other side. Nor did she notice him as he copied the fluid movements of her own choreography, bringing one hand up and bending outstretched legs to rest one had upon a slim thigh.



“Come on, babe

 Why don’t we paint the town?” 



One hand came up, and then down as the dancers responded to the two music beats, the girl broadening her smile as she sassily spoke the classic words.



“And all that jazz.”



“I'm gonna rouge my knees

And roll my stockings down”



Stroking a thigh, she looked at the audience with innocence. He smiled at her boldness. She was loud even when in character and knew exactly how to wow the crowd. That’s why her needed her.



“And all that jazz”



Start the car

I know a whoopee spot

Where the gin is cold

But the piano's hot!”



Yes you do, girl. He thought as he mimicked her movements with the same smooth style. But it was Hogwarts she was going to, where unfortunately gin was banned and piano didn’t exist, as far as the residents were concerned. Well, she always liked a challenge.





‘’It's just a noisy hall

Where there's a nightly brawl

“And all.”



She smiled as she threw one shoulder over. He was smiling to, as her eyes glowed golden as his brightened to silver.



“That



Jaaaazzz.”



The dance break began as more than half the audience started to tap their feet t the catchy beat and the entirety of the seated crowd – particularly a large group of male theatrical students in the front row – stared at the alluring girl who smiled seductively from the spotlight. He was watching her, too, though not for her beauty. All of them were overly attractive; it was a curse unlike no other for their kind, but he didn’t need her for her overwhelmingly attractive face and body. He needed her for the power she possessed one of the greatest ever to have been known.



“Slick your hair

And wear your buckle shoes

And all that jazz



I hear that Father Dipp

Is gonna blow the blues

And all that jazz



Hold on, hon'

We're gonna bunny hug

I bought some aspirin

Down at United Drug!



In case you shake apart

And wanna brand new start

To do

that

jazz”





One thigh lashed dark and the male majority of performance slid forward instinctively in their seats. One and all dancers were now grinning, he being one of them, though regarding her power as he smiled. She did more than shed music to give the surrounding individuals and newfound happiness; she entranced one and all into this state. She seduced them.







“Find a glass

We're playing fast and loose”



Another lash of thigh – this was one hyped performance. The chorus was full of engry as they danced with such passion that could only be cause by the girl’s influence.



“And all that jazz



Right up here

Is where I store the juice”



The Audience was further captivated as the girl leapt up and proceeded to stand on the shoulders of two dancers, who were grining and signing as if it was the most enjoyable thing they ever done. He was still smiling himself. How she loved to have the upper ground.



“And all that jazz!



Come on, babe

We're gonna brush the sky

I betcha lucky

Lindy never flew so high



'Cause in the stratosphere

How could he lend an ear

To all”



One beat and she was on the ground in a second and suddenly-



“That”



Out came the spread splits as she grinned a lolling smile at the audience



“Jazz…”





“Oh, you're gonna see you

Sheba shimmy shake

And all that jazz





Oh, she's gonna shimmy

Till her garters break

And all that jazz



Show her where to park her girdle

Oh, her mother's blood'd curdle

If she'd hear her baby's queer

For all

 That

 jazz”



He could imagine her talking about herself. The girl had been in some rough areas and surprisingly had come out on top, but she had a certain addiction to music, more advanced, stronger, than any other of her kind. Particularly jazz…

He imagined how she was going to react when he told her that she be spending the time with five others of her kind. She’d always liked people with emotion - and always thought her own kind to be stiff and loveless . Still, if she tried to swing her weight the others wouldn’t take it. Tallulah liked humans for that reason – they would always feel emotion. But with her own kind…that was always harder.



“And all

That

Jazz…!”



He could see the brightest gold in her eyes as the energy began to peak and her movements became hyped. Perhaps he was the only one who noticed the strange gold dust that began to fly faintly in the air – not noticeable enough for those in the audience to feel or see, but maybe the dancers would sense it. Looking around, though, they were all smiling wide smiles and dancing with just as much energy. No, her power was to great. Not even this kind of energy could be noticed by her wild subjects.





“Come on, babe

  Why don’t we paint the town?”



The chorus was singing the backing now now, and willingly, the spirit joined in. He could feel the musical energy fill his body as the verses progressed, giving him new energy that took his movement to a new level.



“I'm gonna rouge my knees

And roll my stockings down

And all that jazz!”



‘And all that jazz!” The excited chorus echoed, he himself singing the loudest of them. But the girl was so hyped herself she didn’t hear or notice any of them.



“Start the car

I know a whoopee spot!

Where the gin is cold

But the piano's hot!



It's just a noisy hall

Where there's a nightly brawl

And all

That

 Jazz!”



She calmed down now that the bridge came and the other character lead on a lover and proceeded to shoot him with vengeance. The girl’s eyes dimmed now, reverting back to their usual pale brown. However, the energy was still in the air, the audience still captivated. Even when the onstage gunshots fired, they were still staring at a smirking Velma Kelly. And now this shining, sexy star walked round to the bottom of the stairs and the chorus, himself included, formed a walkway for her as she began the last verse and belted across the stage.



“No, I'm no one's wife

But,

 oh, I love my life!”



And allllll

 Thaaa-aaat

Jaaaazz!



He spun round in unison as she turned round herself to deliver the final words, starting in defiance at the cop characters who had come to take the jazz babe to jail as part of the show.



“That jazz!”



He must have been louder than he thought. The minute the last bar ended, the girl had spun round and was staring at him with bewildered eyes. Then they narrowed as she regained her character, turning to the policemen and allowing herself to be lead off. But as the stage cleared and they slipped into the wings, the atmosphere dark except or the light of the stage, he whispered into her ear and asked the inevitable in an amused tone.



“Should I say please, Tallulah?”



Her reply, placid yet assuring, came after a slight pause.



“Yes.”

***

Manchester, England.

In a lesser-known theatre.

2016.

The Spirit smiled as the nervous girl walked on stage, handing the pianist her music before walking to the center of the stage as composedly as possibly. He knew she would get in – her life hand experiences had ben so similar to the character that she was auditioning that she could not fail to succeed. 

*Click play on this video before you begin reading this section and patient with your speed of reading. This adds to the scene completely and is the basis. I own none of the music and do not claim to.

His ‘esteemed’ fellow directors and producers, however, sitting beside him in the long front row of seats, were not so sure. He could hear them murmuring quietly as the opening bars of the song began, discussing her appearance more than anything. The Spirit turned to look back at the girl and scoffed quietly to himself. If they were only judging on looks, she’d have got the main part. Like all of her kind, she was captivatingly pretty.



But the whispers stopped as soon the girl began to sing. The emotion that was set from the very first sentence was pure, true and filled with sincerity. Because she had known the feeling of Eponine’s suffering before. She had experienced the very same thing in the very same era.



“On my own

Pretending he's beside me

All alone,

I walk with him 'til morning

Without him,

I feel his arms around me

And when I lose my way I close my eyes

And he has found me”



The smile beamed wide and the small and ‘esteemed’ audience was soon softly regarding this young – or rather ‘experienced’ actress. 









In the rain, the pavement shines like silver

All the lights are misty in the river

In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight

And all I see is him and me forever and forever”



The joy in her voice was astounding as she captivated the producers and directors. He wasn’t smiling like they were, more composed, with softness in his eyes. One of the reasons for her power was because of what she’d been through during the French revolution. 



“And I know it's only in my mind

That I'm talking to myself and not to him

And although I know that he is blind

Still I say

there's a way for us”



The tears were sliding down her face now, eyes far away, and he could tell what she was thinking. But her strength with the emotion and character of Eponine behind her and her own power and drive, She kept going with passion. She paused, then delivered the line of confession with despair in her voice. The directors were still nodding, smiling, now.



“I love him

But when the night is over

He is gone,

The river's just a river

Without him,

The world around me changes

The trees are bare and everywhere

The streets are full of strangers



I love him

But every day I'm learning

All my life,

I've only been pretending

Without me,

His world will go on turning

A world that's full of happiness

That I have never known!”



The peak ended. Her silence came, tears still as they trickled slowly, beautifully down her cheeks. He stared at her with softness. Out of all his recruits, she was his dearest, because he felt for her. He knew her pain and he admired her for her will to carry on.



“I love him...”



She choked, looking up at the audience as if she was speaking to the darkness. Lost in her own world.



“I love him...”



Looking up now, she saw him and her voice was soft as she sang the last lines softly.



I love him...

But only on-”



Mya looked up now, smiling at him from the stage. He smiled softly back. He had his answer.



“-my own...”



***

London, England

West End.

2016.

The Spirit smiled at himself in the mirror as he finished adjusting the white mask the covered more than half of his face. It was lucky that the actor had been a friend of his – and that his character wore a mask for most of the play.



But inside the Spirit felt bitter, angry, even, an emotion he seldom experienced because of what he was. He had sent the messengers after the girl - preferring not to make the trip in person - and they had returned with multiple injuries. He knew she was strong, and had a team of fans behind her, but the way she had brutally sent his soldiers packing could not be allowed to happen. She was feisty and snobbish, this girl, but she was needed, and now he was to return to recruit her himself and make sure she knew of the crime she had committed and how she had to pay.



He could hear from the stage that his cue was approaching, and with grim determination in his silver eyes but outer composure, The Spirit made his way to the stage where the innocent girl waited with no idea what would happen that night as a dramatic showdown.



***

*Click play on this video before you begin reading this section and patient with your speed of reading. This adds to the scene completely and is the basis. I own none of the music and do not claim to.

The dramatic music began as they rose to the top of the stage platform and approached with menace, passion beginning to fly. She was completely the [art, himself sounding and looking so but not feeling it to heart.  He had played the character a thousand times before, he knew what he had to do. This song was beautiful and he usually enjoyed it, but the sourness was still there as he approached her. Still, the music calmed him slightly as he felt the energy come to him. 

The passionate song really captured the darkness of his character and the innocence of Christine as she was drawn to him. He smiled to himself. If she really knew he was, she wouldn’t be ‘drawn’ to him, she’d run a mile, this malicious star with an ego the size of Manhattan.





“Past the point of no return 

No backward glances 

Our games of make-believe are at an end. 



Past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’

No use resisting

Abandon thought and let the dream descend 



What raging FIRE shall flood the soul 

What rich desire unlocks it's door 

What sweet seduction lies before us? 



Past the point of no return 

The final threshold 

What warm unspoken secrets 

Will we learn 

Beyond the point of no return? “



She looked at him and began her solo with passion, reaching him for a heartfelt and passionate embrace. She was Christine through and through, this beautiful brunette starlet. Once she came out character, however, she was unpleasant as can be.  But now, when the darker side of Christine showed, so did her dark side come into the light as she began her solo with smoothness and seduction and the audience listened breathless and captivated.



“You have brought me 

To that moment when words run dry 

To that moment when speech disappears 

Into silence 

Silence. 



I have come here, 

Hardly knowing the reason why 

In my mind I've already imagined 

Our bodies entwining

Defenseless and silent, 

Now I am here with you 

No second thoughts 

I've decided 

Decided. 



Past the point of no return 

No going back now 

Our passion-play has now at last begun. 



Past the point of right or wrong 

One final question 

How long should we two wait before we're one? 



When will the blood begin to race 

The sleeping bud burst into bloom 

When will the flames at last CONSUME us?”



He smiled the phantom’s smile and they began the serious part of the song, just before the peak, just before their own one-to-one dramatic showdown.



"Past the point of no return 

The final threshold 

The bridge is crossed 

So stand and watch it burn 

We've passed the point of no return….”



He reached round and held her by the waist before breathing gently; knowing that in seconds her entire mood would change. Now, though, he could embrace Christine, not an angry girl with ultimate power. 



“Say you'll share with me 

One love, one lifetime 

Lead me, save me from my solitude 



Say you want me 

With you here 

Beside you 

Anywhere you go 

Let me go too 

Christine that's all I ask of you-“



She had done it. Torn off the mask as part of the grand show and all of a sudden reacted even more dramatically than planned. As the lights went out and they rushed of stage, she was hammering at him as he hauled her, not to her place on the stage, but into a place where their conversation would be private, off stage and near the dressing rooms.



“Get off me! How dare you, how dare you do this to me! I am-“



“You are a young creature who has caused me a great deal of trouble.” He cut in, still holding her arm as she struggled.  “You know you can’t get out of this, Tara.”



She stopped struggling and scowled at him. “I don’t have to go.” She said defiantly. “You can’t make me.”



“You know very well that I can.” He threatened.  “I am the muse of the lord. You cannot defy me or his orders. Tara, I do not understand you.”



She looked up at him, still frowning, and shook free of his arm. “I don’t want to pose as a filthy witch. They are stupid creatures, these humans.”



“You forget yourself, my girl.” He said grimly. “You’re half-human and you always will be. And as for witches and wizards being filthy, take a look at yourself. Never utter those words again.”



This had an effect on her, and her face became lighter as his authority dawned on her. There was silence, then, hearing the music she said hurriedly.



“I have to go. My cue-“



“Your cue can wait. This show is over and you are coming to Hogwarts.” 



She stared at him, shocked. “You cannot deny me of this! Think about the show, the people-“



The spirit sighed. “We have little time.” He told her. “The process must begin and tomorrow the school term begins. She must be freed by the end of it.”



“I know, your grace.” She was being polite now, and he saw her care for the show, how she needed to sing. She must be hungry, he thought. “But I must perform.”



“You are in need of sustenance?” He asked.



She nodded. “I am a little weak and require energy. There will be few performances at Hogwarts.”



“I doubt that. You’ll be one of six and you can’t go without feeding for longer than a fortnight.” He said, watching her face for reaction.



Sure enough, it came, and her polite demeanor switched off. “One of six? You mean those fools will be there-“



“Those fools are part of the team and just as powerful as you. If you try to throw your weight around they’ll crush you. You’re not going to be the one and only around there, Tara.” He warned. She hated the company of equals so much that she would do anything to avoid it. On the whole she hated doing things for others. It wasn’t a defect of her breeding; it was just the way she was.



She bit her lip. “I didn’t like them when I first met them. They're so…”



“Talented? Yes, just as much as you, my girl. Now, do you accept?”



She looked up bitterly. “Do I have a choice?”



“No.” He said grimly. “It has to be done, even if you don’t want it. You swore a vow.”



“Ten years ago, yes. As a child. How are they going to pose as seventeen year olds?” 



“All of our kind look young, you know that, and they're not that old, either, my girl. I believe Mya is the eldest of all of you at the pure and somewhat moderate age of 204. But you are all of the same kind, and age does not matter within our race. Do not be childish, Tara." He said the last sentence with patronisation and she flushed with a fierce blush.

"I'm twenty-four and I'm already as powerful as them. Why should I treat them with such honour?" She said rebelliously, head held high as her light brown curls slid back off her face.

He sighed. "I'm not asking you to treat them with honour, I'm asking you do fulfil the duty you are sworn to do." 

She looked at him stormily for a moment of silence, then relented. "Do you have equipment waiting for me?"

"It's been sent to the the school in advance." He answered, not giving the thanks she expected. He'd had enough. "All except for this, that is."

He held out a long, smooth stretch of wood with a slim design and slight point at the end. "Pine wood, twelve and three quarter inches. Surprisingly swishy, the salesman told me."

She took it from him and ran a hand along it as she surveyed it with a critical gaze. "And the core?" She said, looking up.

"Hair." He answered.

"Who's?" She pushed, raising an eyebrow. 

"The core is of hair belonging to myself, hardly a sacrifice." He anwsered, not rising to her bait. "Now, you do remember how do cast, don't you."

She laughed. "And why would I remember that trollop?"

He sighed and looked at her with patronising sadness. "Come here."

She stepped forward, scowling, and he lifted a hand to touch her forehead. In a flash, the information had transferred to her, and withdrawing, Tara rubbed her forehead.

"It's been a while since that's happened." She said, frowning.

"It's like a hangover. You'll get over it." He answered blandly. She opened her mouth to speak again, but at that moment there was calling as the stagehands searched for their two main cast members.

"Come on." She said, moving to walk back to the stage. 

He raised an eyebrow. "I have to go, Tara."

She looked back and rolled her eyes. "You're not doing this to me or the audience, Noah." Tara took his hand with order. "Come. You're hungry, too, and if you want me to cooperate, at least do this."

He looked at her sourly, knowing blackmail when he saw it. If he didn't come, she'd do everything to get out of going to Hogwarts. With a glare at his Christine, The Phantom of the Opera allowed himself to be lead on stage, pausing only to whisper in her ear as they waited for the signal.

"One more thing, Tara. Hellflare."

The reaction was immediate as she jerked her head round with alarm. "What! They're at Hogwarts."

He nodded. "Or coming. This year their having some sort of competition - a 'Triwizard Tournament'. Schools from France and Russia will come over to compete."

"And workers for Hellfire could be among them?" She said with concern.

"Yes." He said grimly, turning away to stare into space.

But Tara wanted more information. She wasn't as brave and independent as she made out to be. "Is that all you're going to tell me? Bloody hell, Noah, they could kill us!"

"Not if you're careful. And the reincarnation' will be there to protect you." He told her solemnly.

"What! The reincarnation won't even know what he is, let alone be able to protect us!"

"Nevertheless he's extremely powerful. His instincts will cause him to naturally socialise and protect you. And you'll need him for the spell, of course."

"Look, I'm not sure-"

"Oh look, our cue." He cut in. Turning to an irritated Tara, he took her arm. "Tara, I believe we are needed on stage."

And later, as they took their last bows and walked off the dimmed stage, he nodded to her as she turned to move to her dressing room. 

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, my dear."

And with that, he disappeared into the night.

© Lilia Le Fay