There were only the two of them present; or, at least, that was how it initially seemed. She knew that there were most likely a number of hidden listening devices all over the cell she currently resided in. No way was anyone going to try and talk to her alone. Not with her reputation. Her visitor sat outside of the bars. She knew someone was going to visit; the guards had made sure her arms and legs were properly restrained.

And she'd never talk about the ghosts that watched, as well.

They had been having a discussion for the past hour. It was going nowhere. Nowhere fast. She was telling him the truth, but he refused to listen. They all refused to listen.

"You don't understand. I-I've tried explaining it to you. I've told you again and again and again. You don't listen. Nobody listens." She sighed aloud. "It's why I did what I did. The Goblins, Elves and everything else. They're all Abominations, just like we are. Just to a greater extent. They all have to be destroyed."

"So you've said." He responded dryly at her pause.

"Yes. And I'm right." Her voice rose, frustration coloring her tone. "Everyone thinks I'm insane for seeing the conspiracy that they refuse to believe; discarding the proof that I've shown them over and over again. If we don't stop them, we're doomed. Doomed. We have to get rid of them. Only then might our magic be safe enough to use again."

The rotund visitor stroked his heavy mustache, so similar to Vernon Dursley's that she wondered if they went to the same barber, as he glanced at the file sitting in front of him. "Right. We shouldn't be using magic until it's safe to use."

"That's not what I said."

"You did. Right here, during your third trial. You stated that if we didn't take precautions now, it would be too late soon." He looked up from the page he had been reading from. "When asked to elaborate, you said our own magic was going to destroy us."

"Yes." She wanted to claw her own eyes out. Or maybe his. Yeah. Definitely his. "I said that, but that's not what I was saying, at all. Do you know where magic comes from?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. The gods of old are coming. That was your argument during the first trial. That excuse was thrown out. The old ways do not encourage widespread killing."

"Not Druidism. I'm not even talking about Atlantean. I'm referring to the days of Id. Of the City of Sarnath. Of wh-"

"Poppycock." He interrupted. "Those tales told around campfires. Transcripted ravings of mad men at the turn of the last century, most likely caused from feverish dreams and hallucinations. Smoking too much wacky tabacky or such."

"No. The truth." Zee wanted to pull at her hair, but it would only make her look further insane. "Why won't anyone believe me?"

She watched as he checked the timepiece on his left wrist before closing the file. He gave her a long look. "Ms. Potter, at this point… even if everything you claim turned out to be true, you have been lawfully found guilty of numerous crimes that you must answer for.

"Your first trial led to you being convicted of the murder of one-hundred seventy five members of the Wizarding World. Then, you incited the Goblin Rebellion of 2007, which caused millions of galleons worth of property damage, not to mention the deaths of many good witches and wizards lost in quelling the Rebellion, of which you were convicted during your second trial.

"The third trial was your claim of being a Dark Lord, or Dark Enchantress by your own mouth. That is automatically considered treason. Convicted. That led to trials four through seven which were for the attempted genocide of House Elves, Centaurs, Vampires and Veela respectively. The only reason there were no charges on the Werewolves was due to their lack of human rights throughout Great Britain. Otherwise, convicted on all four counts.

"And, finally, your most recent trial: the theft and willful destruction of various irreplaceable magical tomes, artifacts and grimoires. Family heirlooms and heritages lost; forever. Convicted of nearly eight thousand individual counts."

Zee nodded. "And other than the lives lost trying to stop me from killing the Goblins, I pled guilty to each and every charge. I know. But, if you consider that if you listen to me that everything I was doing was to protect us from Them, then I-"

"No, Ms. Potter." He interrupted her again. "Your gamble of an insanity plea won't work."

"I never claimed to be insane."

"You didn't have to. It was obvious with your proclamations of ancient deities and made up civilizations that you were trying to skirt responsibility. Several prominent Houses… such as Weasley and Black, Malfoy, McMillian and several others petitioned the Courts to not allow you to escape justice through such an obvious ploy."

"I'm the last Heir to the Black Family. How could they…?"

"Scorpius Malfoy was awarded the Title of Lord Black after your third trial. The position is worth only the Seat of the British Wizengamot at this point, the wealth of the Black Family and the Potter Family seized as reparation and then equally divided among the victims of your thievery."

"Of course." She smiled sadly. "Not like money will do me any good in here. Not even any other prisoners to bribe."

"So you could spread your madness? No. You will be left in solitude until they figure out how to finally kill you, once and for all."

"And my being un-killable doesn't add any credence to what I've been saying?"

It was true. Apparently being the Priestess of Zo-Kalar, otherwise known to the Wizarding World as the Mistress of Death and Bearer of the Deathly Hallows, prevented her from dying. They'd attempted to use the Killing Curse after the Second Trial. She'd watched the green spell hit her and then splash against her chest like water. The witnesses had all been slightly unnerved after that happened.

Next, after the Fourth Trial, more conventional methods had been employed. Hanging, firing squad and poison had failed. They tried cutting her head off, but every blade broke against her skin. That's not to say each attempt didn't hurt. Zee was bruised from every hit; gotten sick from poisons. Her skin had burnt like a really awful sunburn from being put to the pyre. But she survived every attempt.

There had been talk of feeding her to a Class Five beast, such as a dragon or a kraken, but those suggestions had been pushed aside when it was realized that such and attempt might give her the opportunity to escape.

And each time, after surviving, Zee had tried to get someone to listen to what she was saying, but each time failed. Claims of the Deathly Hallows giving her evil and unnatural powers as the cause of her possible immortality.

"No. You've used Dark Magic - Black Magic of some kind. Like Voldemort before you. But he was eventually destroyed…"

"By me."

He ignored her interjection. "… and you will be, too. And in the meantime, we will hold you here where we can continue to dig through your mind, learn all of your secrets. Eventually, we will have everything from you, Ms. Potter."

"You're going to die." She morosely offered. "Let me help you. Save you."

Zee looked up at the magistrate, trying to gauge his reaction. It was useless. She could tell by the expression on his face, the way his eyes held no spark. He didn't believe her; no more than anyone else ever had. There was no help for her… not that she had really expected it. The Wizarding World would get rid of her, somehow, and they'd continue on until the end finally came for them, whether by the various Abominations having finally finished their tasks or by enough magic was released to wake one of 'Them' up from their near eternal slumber.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the smooth stone wall of her cell. The faint buzz of the various wards that made up her small prison almost tickled at this point. The self-proclaimed Dark Enchantress idly wondered if Azkaban's wards had been like these, how the prison could safely hold the wizards and witches against their will – prior to the Dementors taking residence upon the cursed island and feeding off their very life to create complacency. The magic dampening manacles on both of her wrists, as well as both ankles, might have been overkill, but Zee couldn't necessarily blame her captors considering how hard it had been to finally capture her.

Five years now, at her best estimation, that she'd been imprisoned by the International Confederation of Wizards. Five years of constantly being asked the same questions… giving the same answers… being discarded as crazy. Insane. The latest in a long line of English Dark Lords out to exercise their might in subjugating the rest of the world.

It was laughable. Or, it would be if the price of her failure wasn't as dire as it was.

No one would listen, though if Zee could actually be honest with herself for just a moment, she'd understand and sympathize with why the Wizarding World refused to believe her. The very concept was one that had been scrubbed from the history books, deleted from memory, and to get to the root of the conspiracy that surrounded all of them, one did first have to go a little bit mad. Because yes, Zinnia Potter was as mad as a hatter, clinically insane, and had been for near on thirteen years now.

Insanity had been Zee's only option.

What else was there for her to do when she was confronted with the true visage of a Great One? One of the true gods of the universe?

Zee's mind had broken; her psyche not strong enough to grasp the full encompassment of what might have been the truest moment of clarity that there could be.

The Hallows had been a trap. Mistress of Death. So laughable in hindsight. Zinnia Lillian Potter had become the Priestess of Zo-Kalar, one of the few left somewhat awake; not fully dreaming, but not caring about the world around Him. And then she had collected the three vestments of His office, per se, and He decided to wake up a little bit more than He had in several millennia. And with her being His now, He'd let her in on the great cosmic joke of the world: there were horrible, monstrous Gods above Zo-Kalar that were just waiting to wake up just as soon as their servants amassed enough power.

If she couldn't save them, maybe she should just leave.

Escape.

"Just send me though the Veil."

"What?"

Zee opened her eyes to stare through her jail's bars at the man across from her. "At the British Ministry of Magic? The Veil?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not from around here, are you?" She took comfort at his ignorance. "Down in the lower floors of the Ministry there are several rooms that contain strange artifacts of power. It was on my list, but I couldn't get to it. There's the Hall of Prophecies, the Suite of Love, the Time Room. There were other doors, but I don't recall much about them. You want the Death Chamber. It holds a Veiled Archway that supposedly kills all who go through it."

"I'm supposed to follow your suggestion on what we're to do with you? This is a trick. You've planned out some type of escape."

'Or," The woman once referred to as The-Girl-Who-Lived shook her head. "I'm tired of being trapped within these four walls. I have nothing to do, no one to talk to. Maybe it's simply time for me to meet my fate."

All lies, of course.

Ever since she'd destroyed the physical forms of the Deathly Hallows, their inherent magic had bonded with her own magical core. No longer did she need to carry a wand, which was convenient since hers had been snapped immediately upon her capture. From the Cloak, invisibility was hers to command… although almost any type of illusion seemed easy enough to conjure. But it was the ring that was the greatest gift slash curse. All of the dead now spoke to her, visited her.

Now, she was never alone.

Currently, there were around twenty ghosts listening to the conversation between the unnamed visitor and Zee, all offering various opinions on what she might say or do… none of them helpful. She'd suffered their comments and accusations for years now. Zee knew how to block them out. The ghosts, at least…

But it wasn't just the spirits and ghosts of the once living that came calling upon her. Now, Zo-Kalar made His presence known all of the time. He loved whispering suggestions to her, offering advice on every little detail that He apparently found amusing. Worse, though, than having an ancient demonic god providing commentary on her life, He took over her reflection in the mirror, which is why she had requested the mirror afforded her in the cell to be removed.

Of course, Zee's reflection appeared to be her. Black hair. Once long, but currently shorn close to her skull. The prison guards kept it short since it could be used as a spell component. Green eyes. No real change there, but they always seemed so sinister looking now. Her normally pale skin now was sickly in color. Five years away from the sun will do that. As for the rest… she felt like she was attractive. Zee had never really gone without an admirer or three during school, and there had never been a lack of bed partners after.

It was her reflection… but it wasn't.

A few months prior to her having to kill Hermione, she'd tried explaining about how Zo-Kalar had stolen her reflection, as well as how the dead now refused to only appear when she called. Zee desperately wanted help from her best friend, but the newly married Mrs. Granger-Thomas had been one of the first to turn on her – to truly question her sanity. Hermione had already been somewhat jealous of Zee's apparent eternal youth and possible immortality due to the Hallows. Being the Chosen of a demonic god was the breaking point of their friendship.

That had led to her being forced to declare herself as a dark lord… or a Dark Enchantress, in her case. Who knew that there was a political necessity in claiming yourself as such? Such a proclamation actually allowed for a legitimacy to your illegal actions in the event that you won. Voldemort's takeover of the Ministry of Magic in England was actually the fifth step in his being declared the winner and the rest of the Wizarding World allowing for his reign to be recognized.

Of course, failure meant you were automatically guilty of treason… which was why Zee had readily admitted her guilt during that trial.

The magistrate stood. "An interesting suggestion. I will look into it. Well, I have another appointment."

Zee watched as the portly fellow left. He didn't wait for an acknowledgement from her or anything… not that anyone ever did. They'd just show up and start questioning her about how she did something or to find out if she was ready to give up her super-secret-all-powerful spell book that she must have had to have been able to achieve all the power to do what she'd done.

Morons. The lot of them all.

Sadly, his leaving seemed to be all the encouragement that the spirits around her deemed necessary, and they all began vying for her attention. Maybe this is how that comedian felt during that movie about seeing the dancer after he died. Didn't she get fed up with them all bothering her, as well?

Ron Weasley's shade apparently was able to beat out the other ghosts to make it in front of her first. "Hey, Zee. He was right jerk, wasn't he?"

"Hi, Ron. Still not mad at me about killing you?"

"Nah, mate. I get that you thought I'd betrayed you by siding with 'Mione about you supposedly being possessed by the Devil. But it still sounds a bit mad, don't you know?"

It was the same conversation with Ghost Ron almost every time. His spirit was apparently locked in a loop due to the way she'd broken into his mind to discover who else from her former friends was intending to come after her. Maybe if she hadn't left her once friend drooling, eyes staring out into nothing, he'd make a better conversationalist.

"I know Ron. Maybe you should go grab your broom. We'll go flying." The smile on Ghost Ron's face was enough to bolster her out of her thoughts of regret for the moment.

"Right-o. I'll be back as soon as Mum turns her back."

It couldn't last though.

Ghost Dumbledore seemed to intimidate the other apparitions around him, they all quickly moved aside as he approached her. It was funny in a very sad way how he looked so much stronger, healthier, as a spirit. They weight of age and responsibilities no longer his burden to bear, See guessed.

"Zinnia." His ghostly gaze still twinkled over the half-moon glasses he wore, even in death. "Why most you continue this pointless crusade? Just accept that it is time to accept what is to be will be. For the Greater Good, my dear."

Did she forget to mention that apparently, after you died, witches and wizards became a part of the greater cause of attempting to wake that which should never be awoken? Yeah… learning the truth meant that now all of the spirit world was constantly against her, pushing her to roll over and accept that there was no longer a reason to fight the good fight.

"Get bent, Old Man." She offered. Zee appreciated that even in the afterlife, she seemed to be able to shock his old time sensibilities. He, thankfully, faded from view with only a sad shake of his head.

"There is no need for such language, Ms. Potter." Ghost Professor McGonagall spoke up from the left side of her cell, ready as always to defend her Albus Dumbledore from any who didn't bow and kiss his arse.

A quick look showed her that the former Transfiguration teacher currently sported the appearance she had just prior to death; meaning that half of her face was a charred ruin from the Reductor Curse Zee had hit the elder woman with during their fight. It really kinda sucked that the ghosts could pick and choose how they appeared when visiting her. Apparently, Minerva was in a petty mood. Ghost Professor Sprout, currently resembling a burnt skeleton, was going on and on about how there had been no need to release Fiendfyre through the halls of the School, causing the deaths of so many wizards and witches that had been hiding at Hogwart's, trying to escape from Zee's rampage… not to mention the children and other innocents that had been caught in the crossfire.

Ignoring those two, as well as the others that had been a part of the teaching staff of Hogwart's, Zee contemplated how long it would be before someone finally came to release her from the manacles and restraints. It was hard to get comfortable when you were chained to the wall with barely the room to move around.

"You know they think you're insane because you're talking to yourself, right?" Ghost Katie Bell broke through Zee's attempt to ignore everyone.

"Yeah?"

Ghost Katie nodded sagely. "They watch you all the time. You know that. And if they're always watching, then they can see you right now talking to an empty space, having a conversation."

"But you're here. Well, at least, your spirit is." Zee rebutted.

"Am I?" Ghost Katie smiled. "Maybe the Deathly Hallows drove you insane and you're actually really only talking to yourself?"

"I know I'm insane. Doesn't that mean I could recognize whether you're really here or not?"

Laughter. From all around. It seemed that all of the spirits were interested in this particular conversation. You'd think that being ghosts that they would offer a bit of privacy to former lovers, but the dead never respected personal space. Never.

Ghost Katie smiled that special smile that I had once thought had been reserved for only me. I knew better now.

"Talking to spirits that only you can see? A demon in the mirror that is your own reflection? Trying to kill all of those innocent magical beings? Calling yourself a Dark Enchantress? And then killing all of your friends? How could they believe anything you'd say?"

"If you had listened to me… believed me, rather than choosing to side against me."

"I had to side with you?" Ghost Katie scoffed. "You sound like Voldemort."

"She does not." Ghost Tom Riddle, like he appeared when Zee had destroyed the Diary Horcrux, was here. Oh, joyful day, her luck just kept on going today.

"You're not welcome here, monster." Ghost Katie snarled.

"That's not for you to decide, girl."

At Ghost Tom's rebuke, Ghost Katie turned to stare at Zee, her eyes pleading. "Why don't you send him away? Tell him he's not wanted here. No one on any plane of existence wants him around. Please, Zee."

The only breathing person in the cell watched as so many of the spirits and ghosts seemed to draw away from Tom's position in the middle of the available space. In fact, many of them vanished altogether. It was a welcome side effect, even though Zee didn't want the visage of the Dark Lord around anymore than the other damned spirits had… but she'd take what she could get. Silver lining, and all.

"What do you want, Tom?"

He smiled that condescending smile that had carried over even when he looked more like the Abomination that he'd tried to become. "I think the Veil was a brilliant play."

"Thanks."

"Will you willingly step through?"

Zee considered the question before answering. "Yeah. I think I will."

"Did you know that we won't be able to follow you? Through the Veil, I mean."

At his words, she perked up. This was something she hadn't considered. "But I'd be dead. Wouldn't I join all of you?"

At the spoken word of joining, the cacophony of otherworldly voices seemed to surround them, inundate them with longing, whispers of new adventures and embracing what was always meant to be, filled Zee's ears and mind. It was overwhelming. Almost.

The spectral version of Tom tilted his head to the side, regarding her. "For one that has gained so much power, has access to so much that was hidden and once lost, you are still a schoolgirl fumbling through a destiny that should have been mine."

"That's rude."

"I don't care." Ghost Tom's appearance morphed into Voldemort from the Graveyard. "That Veil isn't for executions, child. It was for bridging realities. It is the Siege Perilous; a Door on the Beach; the Wardrobe made from Aslan's Tree… and it is your ticket away from this reality."

Ghost Katie apparently didn't like where the conversation was headed. "He lies. Don't listen to him, Zee. You know you can't trust him… even dead."

Ghost Voldemort suddenly had Ghost Katie held by the neck, choking her. The teen's ghostly feet nearly a foot above the cell's dirty floor. If it had been real, Zee would have fought with everything she had to protect her once girlfriend… but they were dead; nothing more than summoned spirits, and it was all just a show.

She watched as he casually flung Ghost Katie away from him. Her former lover vanished through the wall, as ghosts were wont to do. As she waited to see if Ghost Katie was going to return, all of the other spirits left the two of them alone… and considering that Ghost Voldemort was, well, a ghost, that meant she was alone again.

"Now," Ghost Voldemort seemed pleased that he could still terrify someone – anyone. "Embrace the madness, child. Become who you were trying to be." At her apparent look of confusion, the only spirit in the room threw his hands in the air. "You proclaimed yourself a Dark Enchantress. Be THE damnable Dark Enchantress."

"But, I'm trapped in here."

"For the love of Morganna." Ghost Voldemort raged. "Stop whining. The magic and knowledge of Zo-Kalar is within you. He's never going to release you, but by those that you fear, He has protected you where He could. Embrace your darkness. Accept your madness. Be His avatar, whether on this world or another."

A pep talk from a vanquished Dark Lord.

Who would have guessed?

"I need a mirror."

*Make one* Zo-Kalar seemingly whispered in her ear.

She considered His words for a moment, when suddenly Zee could feel her magic flowing through her once again. It was euphoric, the power, denied to her these five long years. With a wave of her hand, a copy of the Mirror of Erised was in front of her. It was the true Mirror. She'd destroyed it during her invasion of Hogwart's, but it an exact copy down to the chips along the edges. The only thing different was that she had not copied the enchantments that the first Mirror of Erised had once held… although the knowledge of how to do that, as well, suddenly filled her head.

Huh?

Zee peered into the reflection. "What do you think?"

Her not-reflection smiled back at her.

"Yeah. That's what I thought, too."

Before the conversation could go further… well, begin really, the sounds of various doors at the end of the corridor leading to her cell were thrown open. Voices, panicking and numerous, caught her attention as wizards and witches (all wearing Hit-Wizard robes and brandishing their wands) took position outside of her jail bars.

"Freeze!" "Stop!" "Don't move!" The voices of her keepers ran over one another, but the message was apparent. They wanted her to stop whatever they thought she was doing.

Standing up slowly, Zee didn't even realize that the suppression manacles that had been restraining her were gone. Not that they'd become unlocked and were on the bench or floor, but gone. Vanished, as if they had never been there in the first place. She held her arms out from her sides, offering them a clear view that she held no weapon. No wand. It was enough that many of the younger magic users facing her relaxed their stances.

The older ones, those with experience, did not relax.

"Zinnia Lillian Potter." A no-nonsense looking witch in the front ordered loudly. "Turn around and face the wall. Keep your movements slow. Do not test me."

Her full name? Wow, but they meant business.

Too bad that she was ready to play. She glanced briefly at her not-reflection and was gratified to see that the not-Zee in the mirror wasn't looking back at her, but Its gaze was trained away from Zee's own and onto the force that was gathered against her. So, Zee was mad… but she wasn't crazy.

She smiled at the Guards, the rush of her magic almost saturating the air of the room with the overpowering scent of ozone. It was the exact smile she had worn at the height of the Wizarding World's fear when she proclaimed herself the Dark Enchantress.

Ghost Voldemort bowed to her before vanishing.

It was time to leave.

"No."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It had been surprisingly quick to reach he destination.

After everything that she had been through in her sorry excuse of a so-called life, through all of the trials and tribulations; after defeating Dark Lord after Dark Lord; from having been hailed as the greatest Bastion of the Light, to have then fallen so far as to be reviled as the Darkest of Dark Ladies, the Dark Enchantress, to declaring war on the magical races… for the end to be here of all places, the rotting corpse of mortar and wood and steel that once housed the British Ministry of Magic. It was almost laughable, if she could have only come up with a better set up for such a pitiful punchline.

Zee Potter… the Dark Enchantress and Mistress of Death, formerly once hailed as the Girl-Who-Lived (that had eventually mutated into the Woman-Who-Won) ignored the moans and cries of pain that seemed to almost echo through the once great walls of the Ministry, those few remaining wizards and witches, maybe once her friends and allies, now her enemies, that had attempted to prevent her from reaching her intended target.

They had even called in Muggle soldiers; NATO or the Allied Forces or some other Muggle nonsense, to bolster their ranks and stop her.

That her crusade with the entirety of the Wizarding World had accomplished what even Voldemort and Grindlewald had never dared to breach through their decades of rebellion and fighting; Zee had broken the Statute of Secrecy and had revealed the Wizarding World to the rest of humanity.

Almost nine years ago now, the Great Reveal or some other such nonsense that it had been named, had spurred the Muggle governments of the world to band together and call for the immediate surrender of the Wizards and Witches across the globe. Needless to say, that had not gone over well with the wand wavers. A silly little self-contained squabble with Dark Enchantress Potter had fallen to the wayside and a call to arms had gone out; the enemy of my enemy is my ally.

Yeah. Not happening.

It had been a valiant effort, magic versus technology. In the end, the Magical and Muggle governments of the world saw the benefit of working together to stop her. Whatever lies the MoM sold to the NoMag's apparently worked… and now Zee was hunted the world over.

After some searching, Zee finally found a working lift to take her further down into the lower levels of the Ministry. It was a vain hope, but one she was willing to chance. She had taken everything that she could get her hands on… those cowardly little Abominations (she refused to call them 'Goblins' any longer) tried to bar her from the bank… they failed, and now she had some gold that might give her a chance in a new world.

The mage-lights flickered in the lift, the entire structure shaking, as the booms of explosions sounded from above her head. Apparently the final shields had broken and the Muggle and magical cavalry had made it to try and stop her. They would fail, as well.

Technology was a tricky opponent. Zee reflected that in small numbers, magic always was superior. One versus one up to versus one hundred, the wand waver always came out on top. Shields and spells, Hexes and Curses… Muggles had no counter. But when the Muggle numbers were over one hundred; when there were thousands versus the one wizard or witch, no matter how primitive the technology versus magic, the wand wasn't enough to pull out another victory.

Now, in certain cases, there were those select witches and wizards that could stand against the great numbers. Susan Longbottom, for instance, could probably have held off an entire platoon of soldiers had they attacked Hogwart's. Alone in front of the ancient castle, the former Hufflepuff could possibly wipe out nearly five thousand soldiers, all on her own, before they might finally wear her down.

Susan had been a worthy opponent.

She still to this day believed it was more likely that the realization that her husband had already fallen under Zee's wand that lead to her eventual defeat. That was the difference between Magic versus Technology and Magic versus Magic.

Luckily for Zee, the hallway no longer spun, making finding the doorway she sought so much easier. It only took looking in six of the eight doors to find what she sought: the Veil.

The chamber housing the cursed archway hadn't changed since that fateful day a lifetime ago, the memory of her godfather vanishing through those ripped curtains, his glance at her both sorrowful and terrified, never failed to make her eyes itch with the threat of tears. Maybe if her plan succeeded she could be reunited with Sirius in whatever place was beyond.

*Is this your plan, Zee?* At the disembodied voice's call, Zee quickly glanced around the massive room for a reflective surface so that she might see Him… well, Him as her.

It had taken months after acquiring all three of the Deathly Hallows before Zee had realized that while her reflection looked like her, moved like her, followed her, it actually wasn't her. Worse than the spelled mirrors throughout the Wizarding World, Zee had what she had incorrectly called Death as her reflection, always there… always offering advice and criticisms and whatever else It wanted to relay to the supposedly new Mistress.

No one knew why Zee suddenly avoided mirrors; why she demanded all reflective surfaces banished from her presence. Rumors had started that she had contracted vampirism or some other form of evil influence. It had been just one of the flimsy accusations that had been thrown at her in those early days before she learned the truth.

She finally found that mirrors sat in each corner of the chamber. Taking a moment, she thought to make her offer again, maybe for the last time. She could dream, right?

"Yes. I'm going through the Veil. You're more than welcome to stay here. I'm sure there's lots of people that would love to meet you and the others."

Zo-Kalar smiled at her using Zee's own smirk. It was disheartening to be on the receiving end of the look Hermione once said should be trademarked. "No. I'll go with you. New adventures and all that, that your Headmaster once promised."

"Leave the Old Goat out of this." Zee snapped. "And be it on your… whatever, when we leave this place."

"Why would I stay?" He mocked back. "At the rate these fools are going, Cthulhu and the others will rise soon. Your friends and allies, loved ones and lovers, enemies and foes? All dead or will wish to be soon enough. Gone and soon to be forgotten. Better we travel to our new Fate together."

Opening her mouth to respond, she was cut off as another voice joined into the conversation.

"If you do this, we won't speak again, Zee." Hermione's voice called from across the vastness of the afterworld. Zee hated how the how the Dead followed her, even here, at the end.

"Good to see you, Mione."

The ghostly apparition nodded sadly. "If you leave, there's no coming back. We can't follow you, no matter how hard you call."

"So Tom said. And that's a bad thing?"

Ghost Hermione Granger-Thomas shrugged. "I'd miss our talks, late into the night."

"You've forgiven me for killing you, then? All's done?"

"I understand so much more now." Hermione kept talking over Zee's attempt at asking. "And no, I can't understand why it took dying to see that you were right, all along. I have to believe that there is a purpose in all things."

"She's right, my love." Ghost Katie Bell's voice added into the conversation. "There is so much you don't understand… that we wish we could tell you."

Looking into her school days lover, Zee idly thought of spring days long passed. "You've forgiven me for letting Tom kick from my cell already?"

"We can be together again."

And with those words, Zee started paying attention to the noises that were steadily getting louder and louder, which meant closer and closer.

"My mind's made up. And I know what you're doing… trying to buy them time to reach me before I can make my escape."

"And is it not what maybe you, yourself, want? Deep down in your heart?"

"Maybe, Headmaster. It might just be that you are right, like always." The once great Albus Dumbledore stood stoically, a rock of strength even these so many years of having been dead. "Is the next great adventure as fun as you'd hoped?"

The spirit of the last true Champion of the Light nodded gracefully. "Join us, Zinnia. The adventure awaits you, as well."

*Not yet.* Zo-Kalar spoke. None of the other apparitions reacted to the mot-reflection. *We will have our own new adventures.*

"You gonna jump or not?" Ghost Pansy Boot spoke up, with Ginny Weasley not far behind. "Don't wuss out now, Potter." "Let's go!"

And with their cries of… support, maybe? A cacophony of voices suddenly filled the Chamber housing the Veil. Spirits seemed to realize that it was their final opportunity to interact with the bearer of the Deathly Hallows power, each crying out words of love or support, accusations of acts of betrayal, murder, and all other sins upon which Zee might be guilty, probably guilty and most definitely guilty of committing.

Hundreds of voices, the shrieks of the dead, now only barely hiding the sharp cracks at the door. The Muggle troops and remaining Hit-Wizards and Aurors had finally caught up to her. She ignored it all, her gaze now only for the Veil… its voices adding to the others, lending to the tsunami of noise that refused to stop, even for a second.

Maybe she was insane and Zo-Kalar wasn't in the mirror. Her attention was pulled from the Veil.

Zee's parents now called out to her; teachers from days long ago; lovers who touched her life but briefly. All sought her out until Zee was forced to call upon the unholy sorcery that now belonged to her… hers to control now that she had accepted that she was the Dark Enchantress.

"Begone."

It was just for that last, fleeting glimpse that she saw her mother crying. They would never meet. Not in this lifetime, nor ever in any other. The price to be paid.

"See? Why would I leave you? Ever?" Zo-Kalar spoke into the chamber's ringing silence.

Turning away from her not-reflection, she gathered the tattered cloak she'd stolen from a fallen Hit-Wizard, pulling it closer around her thin frame. "Then let's be off."

And then, just as the invaders finally caught up to their ultimate quarry, the soldiers and wizards and witches all watched as the Mistress of Death, the Wizarding World's last Dark Enchantress, stepped through the Veil and vanished from this reality forever.

It would be just past three hundred years later that the truth of her cause was realized… and the Earth and its reality fell to the rise of the Ancient Great Ones.

They slept no longer.