Despite this, Prince John Paul was not through. Coldly he viewed the bodies, their faces frozen forever in grimaces of sudden fear. He swept his gaze over to Daiva, the proud, beautiful, and slightly insane woman he loved once. She was holding her daughter's hand and leading her around the Hall, exploding things as she waved her wand at them and giggled. Dereke and Gem were off somewhere, adding finishing touches to the destruction. Screams still filled the room, fewer but more desperate.

In Prince's hand, the Wand smoked, the awful power of it waiting to be unleashed in full. The nature of its maker shaped its properties, so though the wand had once been used for good, it now matched the curdled heart of Prince. He reveled in the power that radiated from it, as it reveled in his ability to grant it the freedom it wished for. So long he had waited for this. So long.

The it-child had asked him, what was the point of such power? What was the point if eventually he would have nothing left to vanquish, no conquests to strive for? Yet that was the point. Prince strove to be the best, and would not settle for less. Before he was leader of the Black Wands, there was another leader, one that had to be disposed of before he could rule. There was always someone standing in the way like that, asking to be demolished. Once they were, if another agony ceased to arise, then the mission was completed. That was the point, in and of itself. To be the best.

There was always a degree of risk, the fear that eventually someone would come that was stronger than he, someone that would do to him as he had done to others. Power was a vicious cycle, he accepted that, though he would never fully believe that he could be defeated. Oh no. Prince was an egotistic maniac, one with little regard for the rest of the world, and less respect.

These thoughts were far from his mind as he viewed the Great Hall. With an arrogant smirk Prince brought his wand up for the final time, then swished it down, making a wide circle in the air, as he shouted, “Incendio Magnitudio.” The Wand shuddered in pleasure as a great river of fire poured forth. Prince, laughing insanely, flailed his arm, sending the fire around the Hall. Tables, rugs, and wall-hangings blazed, the smoke beginning to fill the room as an ear rending screech started: the Hogwarts fire alarm. The conflagration grew in size, gnawing at the very stones themselves, trapping students in a blazing vortex. Ash billowed up, the room temperature rose unbearably hot. Though fire guards protected the Hall, nothing could withstand this. The fury flames from the Black Wand very nearly matched those of hell in intensity.

High pitched keening competed with the fire alarm, and at first no one knew what it was. Yet at the sight of a life sized portrait of a lady in red billowing up in smoke and cinders, the answer became apparent. It was the paintings. Within the inferno portraits were caught, their oil canvases flaring. Faces melted from the heat, paint sizzled and turned gray, before all become engulfed. Frantic friars in one painting picked up the hems of their habits and ran, only to be rushed into a corner where all perished. A demon horse galloped through the burning pictures, hooves pounding across charred grass, before it too met its demise. The last portrait in the Hall to catch fire was one of a new first year at Hogwarts entering the Hall for the first time. On her face had been a look of wonder and delight, but as the flames claimed her it was one of defeat. The wrath of the fire cremated everything in its path. The flames spread away from the center, burning a circle around Prince and his following. They were rendered untouchable.

The blaze grew, spreading beyond the Hall, down corridors, to the common rooms and classes. The worst event, however, had yet to happen. In the Hall, fire crept up the wall, finding hand holds for its fingers in the stone and mortar. Ever closer it crept to the enchanted ceiling. The flames were reflected in the starry sky, creating a mystical and almost serene picture for anyone who cared to look. Then suddenly and without warning, came the end...

BOOM

The fire reached the ceiling, and the witch flames reacted with the ancient spells that made up the roof. Dazzling lights ricocheted off, sprouting in the night sky like murderous fireworks. The ceiling itself exploded, leaving the Hall gaping wide. Tinier, sharper crashes followed as the effects of the explosion were felt. Every shard of crystal within a twenty mile radius shattered, magical or not, as did all of the windows.

Moments passed, the terrible crashes leaving even Prince a little apprehensive. Another repercussion followed, bringing with it the debris of the explosion. Little slivers of the sky began to fall like confetti, raining down on Hogwarts. Most landed in the still raging fire, yet a few stars were whisked away by the lazy summer wind to land on the grounds and in the forest.

The climax had come, and the furious fire began to smolder down in the Hall, having exhausted its supply of fuel. The rest of the school was bearing the damage now, and those left in the fray would probably either die in the flames or suffocate. The once Great Hall trembled, its ceiling gaping open like a hungry mouth. The real night sky shone above now, its innocence tainted by the ghastly events it witnessed. For the most part, the destruction was finished.

Still in his protected circle, Prince lowered the wand and smiled. He crossed the charred floor to Daiva and bowed. It was done. Hogwarts had been annihilated, the work of ages destroyed with one simple curse. The act of arson left little to be desired, and a sudden whoosh alerted everyone that the flames had reached the library. He glanced at Druscilla Danuliete as 50 odd years of her life disappeared, yet as usual she showed no emotion. The woman was strong, and proud. Turning back to Daiva, he smiled again.

“And so, it begins.” He said, elegantly, acting as though this was a dinner party he was hosting. There was the rest of the school to destroy, still: greenhouses, the Quidditch Pitch, and other excluded buildinds. After that the world followed, the Ministry offices, Hogsmeade...yet the Beginning of the End happened at Hogwarts.

It was a beginning for Prince to be proud of.

~~~

Daiva danced the dance of ecstasy, of love and loss, of beauty and sorrow, through the burning hall. When JP came over to her, she gave a low laugh. Azkaban had taken away a lot, but Daiva was still perceptive enough to comprhend the magnitude of their accomplish.

"The fire charms are broken then?" she asked rhetorically and continued. "Then Daiva can have some fun too. Come Brookey!" she giggled and almost defying her thirty eight years, ran like a teenager through the burning, smouldering ruins, which looked out onto a night sky cold, harsh and blacks devoid of any friendly stars.

Little trails of fire and smoke followed in her wake. Destruction followed the creators of destruction. Nothing comes of nothing. Nothing ever could. They would make Hogwarts a void. They would pull down the dynasty.

~~~

Burn.

She looked to Brooke who was holding her mother's hand. Something suddenly dawned on her that the revelations of today had changed. Ever since their younger years they had been too much alike, which was why they couldn't go 5 minutes without bickering over something (usually who would win the Quidditch League Cup). Brooke was her cousin. Daiva was her Aunt, though like Danuliete she would probably never call her so. She did reach out and touch Brooke's hand though and gave her a smile, a real smile. She was family.

~~~

Her soul was heavy, she had killed someone while being under the curse, but she had still killed someone. Someone that had a family, and had love, so what if she had been old, she was still a person. Self loathing ripped through her body. The tears ran down her face, unwanted but unable to be contained. If she stayed right here she would live... she had no choice in the matter though. She was only a living doll... a slave... a puppet to Daiva's words, and that hurt only more. I would rather be dead... rather be dead... kill me. She knew that her mind wouldn't stay with her if she killed another person... she had never killed, and using her potion's... her beloved potions to do harm to another destroyed a piece of her that would take years to reclaim. A broken porceline doll lying scattered on the floor.

Where was Herdomine... was Herdomine safe? that was all that mattered... Armand wouldn't know anything unless suddenly the Acromatula's started to die. He was in his own little web covered world and loved every second of it. Her father hadn't come home... which explained why Herdomine hadn't gotten a returned letter... there was no one really there when he was doing his work. Her dark eyes reflected the flames dancing before her, Serenity in flames using her last moments to try and save her friend's minds. But she didn't seem to be writhing in pain. She had strength with fire. live Serenity... please... live.

Sapphire hated yet pitied Prince in the same breath. What had made him want this? what had turned his feelings into such anger and rage against all this? If it had already been discussed she had missed that from being away at Hollowbroom. How was this going to be defeated, how was Hogwarts to be redone? She could just imagine the train pulling up full of children and finding nothing but ashes and ruin with scared huddled masses in Hogsmeade. What if Prince got to Hogsmeade? This was all so wrong, this was terribly wrong and a bunch of bull. She didn't even blink as another piece of falling ceiling hit something and launched a knife through the air, slicing against her left cheek, just skinning it.

~~~

And it had taken just one spell.

One spell and everything had fallen. The ceiling had come falling in chunks, making it seem as though the very sky was falling in upon itself. Fires still burned, scorching everything in their path.

Well, not quite everything.

Against a all odds, a group of people were still standing. Those who had sided with the power of the wand had been untouched by the witch flames, unlike the bodies of the victims of Avada Kedavra and poison who had near been cremated.

And yet, Serenity was still alive. After all, what was a bit of fire to a Lebelle witch? If one was to trace back the Lebelle geneaology back far enough, back to when there was no good, there was no evil, there were just power and everything was equal, you would find the first in the line making a pact with fire. What the pact involved was shrouded in mystery - not even the matriach, Serenity's Grandmere Lebelle, could answer that question. But now it meant that they had the ability to conjure and control that very element; some with more sucess than others.

The fire had engulfed Serenity, and she had felt the flames licking at her skin, working their way through her hair. If it were possible, she had tasted them as they tried to burn her.

But she was unscathed. Except... her arms, which had been bare, were now marred by criss-crossed scars, which looked new and red. In a last-ditch attempt to subdue the flames which had surrounded her she had thrust them out, concentrating with everything that she could muster. It hadn't been enough, and not even the lastest magical medicinal advances would be able to remove those scars.

Lifting her head, Serenity's blue eyes, dulled through exhaustion, lighted on Brooke and her mother who was dancing through the smouldering remains of the Gryffindor table.

"Brooke!" she called, her voice hoarse from the smoke. Shaking erratically, her hand reached into the pocket of her trousers and pulled something out. Summoning her strength, she threw the small, blue object at her friend.

It landed just short of Brooke's feet.

It was a sapphire. In their first year she, Brooke, Venus and the almost-forgotten Shyla had created it on a Charms fieldtrip. They'd split it into four part, each keeping one with their name engraved on it.

~~~

Then through the smoke and spiralling flames she saw a familiar face. It was Ren. Wordlessly Ren seemed to be lifting up her arms and throwing something. Seconds later, someting struck Brooke. The first thing she had felt in her trance like state. Dragging her hand away from her mum, she stooped to pick it up. The blue crystal shimmered in her hand. And Brooke remembered a far off day and a far off meadow. A field trip aged eleven. Brooke,Ren, V and Shyla. How they had worked. The fun they had had. A world away. Silent tears splashed own Brooke's face for there was no way back and the way forward was cloudy and dark. She held the crystal close in her hand and from the locket round her own neck pulled out a matching quarter.

And with a Keeper's sure shot she threw it through the flames to her oldest and dearest friend whom she was sure at this moment in time that she would never see, ever again, except perhaps in her dreams.

~~~

With a scarred fingertip, she carefully traced the engraved word, before turning her eyes up to her departing friend who was being dragged from what remained of the Great Hall by her mother. Holding back tears, she put it safely into her pocket. Seven years of friendship. All over.

It was certainly one heck of a way to go out with a bang.

~~~

Still, evil, insane or not, Brooke was one of her best friends, as was Serenity and Jason (wherever he had gotten to). And she wasn't one to abandon a friendship that had seven years of love and laughter behind it.

She crossed the great hall, oblivious to the flame that licked and burnt her robes, and stood behind Serenity. Venus' heart dropped when she saw what she was holding.

It was the sapphire that was the symbol of... everything. One of their party was missing, Shy, but the bond remained strong. And soon, it seemed, three would become two.

Choking back a sob she reached into her sleeve and released her own sapphire from its holder next to her dagger. It dropped into her hand and the next instant she had sent it flying towards Brooke.

"Don't you do it, Brooke!" she yelled, anger, fear, and loss ringing clear in her voice. "Don't you dare do it!" But even as she called out against an untold future she knew it was hopeless.

It was ending, and there was nothing she could do about it.

~~~

"I don't think she's coming back."

~~~