A/N: Just a short chapter this week I'm afraid. As requested by a few people this reveals a little more of Rhona's past. There will be more of these if people like them so please let me know in a review. Enjoy!

INTERLUDE - A Nightmare of Fire.

I dreamed:

The year was 1693 and I had been travelling across the New World. My wanderings had taken me to a small town called Salem, in Massachusetts. It appeared they had a small witch problem.

The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy had gone into effect that very year, sending our people into hiding. This meant many of the people accused of witchcraft or 'compacting' with the Devil' were in fact Muggles.

I remembered this day with great clarity. The total of deaths had risen to eleven in the past few months and now there were men banging on the door of my small wooden house. The sound echoed now in my dream, as though it were a Judge's gavel in an empty courtroom.

Eyes wide, I simply stared for a while at the wall in front of me. A part of me knew this was coming but it did nothing to stop my heart from hammering deep in my chest. I eventually stood and opened the door. Before me were stood Marshall Herrick, Ezekiel Cheever and Reverend Hale.

They had come to take me away.

It was true of course that I was a witch but I would have happily remained undetected had it not been for a little accident a month prior. It had been night and I had gone into the woods to let off some magic. Sometimes if I did not use it for a long time my magic would become difficult to control and contain.

I had conjured targets - straw dummies like those that muggle soldiers used - and was firing spell after spell at them. I did not notice just how loud I had been until I heard an earsplitting scream from behind me.

I had spun, and cast. My reflexes were too fast, too good to stop the spell - Reducto - from hurtling towards the woman a few feet away from me. Her mouth formed a small 'o' as the curse hit her and her fragile body became smaller, thinner until there was nothing left but a small pile of dust.

I would not have been connected to the crime if a young girl had not seen me leaving the village. As it was I had been questioned by the town Judge but not charged as they could find no evidence. Now it seemed they had.

"Alice Parker, we have come to take you away. You are charged with witchcraft and the murder of Goody Warren."

I nodded and stepped out of the house. I closed the door behind me and allowed Marshall Herrick to chain me to a wagon with four others. I would not fight for it would do me no good.

My dream now skipped to three days later. I was being led through the town, towards Gallows Hill. It was were the others had been hung and were I would meet the end of this life. I kept my head held high, refusing to meet the eyes of those who cheered for my blood. Instead I looked for the gallows, the rope that would snap my neck.

To my surprise, and fear, rather than the tall wooden structure I expected to see, there was a pile of wood and a stake.

Fire.

That was how I would die. Burning and screaming for mercy.

Now I began to struggle. Panic rose inside me like a flood, threatening to steal all my breath. Hanging I could cope with. It was swift, leaving little for me to remember in the next life. But burning… it took time and I had known for certain then that this would be a memory to haunt me for the rest of my days.

The arms restraining me tightened and all but dragged me towards the stake.

The worst part? I could not fight back. Any magical action was sure to result in my arrest and immediate imprisonment. I was quite sure I would rather die than face a lifetime of incarceration.

As in all nightmares, time passed slower than in reality. Movements were more sluggish and any struggle seemed pathetic.

Eventually I reached the pyre and was carried onto it. The fire was lit and it slowly licked it's way toward me. Just as the first fingers of fire were about to reach me, it was pushed away by an invisible force. Again and again it happened until a wall of flames surrounded me on each side, climbing higher and higher as they tried to reach me.

Of course! My control of the elements which had been with me since the beginning of my existence. Except it had never saved me like this before. It had always only responded to my will and I certainly did not consciously want to stop the flames. You could blame it on survival instinct but surely this did not count with me. Death was not the end and so I did not fear it.

For a moment I simply watched in fascination but was quickly distracted by the cries of the people watching my execution. They could see I had not yet been touched by the flames and had jumped to the correct assumption - magic.

I began to work furiously on lowering the shields but they resisted. I channelled all my frustration into it but I knew it would not be enough. A famous man once said, "By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it," and that is exactly what I had to do.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and imagined the feel of the flames. I imagined the shields lowering, the intense heat, the burn slowly rising and rising up my body until my whole form was encased in excruciating agony.

Suddenly, the feelings ceased to be imaginary. They became realer and realer until a scream was wrenched out of throat and all I could think about was the pain.

It consumed me.