Disclaimer: I own this like I own Microsoft. (Blank stares and cricket chirping) I don't own Microsoft, and I don't own these characters. That's why it's funny. (Receives a collective "O-o-o-oh" of understanding)

Rating: Need I say it again? It's not like the rating is going to deter you or anything. You'd probably still read it if it was NC-17. Not that it is of course, but still- oh. Sorry. I'll shut up now.

Feedback: PLEASE! WITH SUGAR AND DR. PEPPER AND PUPPY DOG LOOKS ON TOP!

************************************ShadowElfBard**********************************

11:36pm

Outside Of Gringotts Bank

(Willow's POV)

Letting out a sigh of pure relief, I use what little energy I have left to smile at the large snowy white building in front of me. To tell the truth I hadn't actually thought that I'd make it this far. I surely didn't expect for the directions that Lucius gave me to be true, and I'm equally surprised that my legs didn't give out two blocks back.

   I run a hand through my hair and try to stand up a little straighter as I walk up the steps to the building. In the back of my mind I'm vaguely shocked that this bank is still open, (after all it's probably near midnight), but I'm too exhausted to take notice of it. Besides, it probably means I won't have to wait in line a long time. I approach the silver doors and start to enter; when I take notice of the fact that a poem has been engraved upon them. I pause, read through it, and raise my eyebrows in appreciation of the poet's talent. Then, realizing that I'm standing in front of a bank in nearly five below weather, reading a poem at the late hours of the night, I grimace and walk into the building.

   And after I glance around the large, polished room, taking note of the few people inside and the many doors, I notice something in particular that strikes me as rather odd.

   The bank is run by goblins.

   Goblins. Short, sharp-toothed, long fingered, old, treasure-hoarding fairy tale goblins. Everywhere. They're cashing checks, leading people back into rooms, counting coins, exchanging bills… and everyone is acting as though it's the most normal thing in the world.

   I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore, Toto.

  "Ahem."

   I look down and am greeted by the owner of the gruff voice, who is, predictably, a goblin.

   The creature taps his foot impatiently and pushes up a small pair of spectacles that have slid down his rather large nose. "Are you in need of assistance?"

    I close my mouth, which was previously hanging open, and nod deftly. He takes this slight motion of my head as an affirmative answer, gives a sneer that could be pleasant or threatening, and motions for me to follow him to a desk. I take a seat on the client's side, and he on the other. His seat is raised however, so I don't have to worry about holding back laughter.

   He then stares at me, and blinks.

   I blink back.

   He sighs and rolls his eyes, speaking so slowly and concisely that it's nearly insulting. "What can I do for you ma'm?"

   "Oh, I uh, I have to exchange some bills… for money. Your money, I mean, cause, you know, I already have money. But I'm not asking for your money specifically, I meant this country's type of money because it would be silly to just ask for your money, and I don't think that you're allowed to just hand over personal money, though this bank is sort of weird so it's possible but-"

   "Stop!" the goblin almost shouts, covering his large ears with a pained expression on his face.

   I blush, and mumble an apology.

   "It's alright. Just don't ever do that again." he looks at me pointedly. "Ever."

   "Okay," I say softly, not trusting myself to form a sentence.

   He straightens a small, bow-like tie on his uniform, and appears to have collected himself. "Very well, an exchange." He dips a quill in ink and holds it over a piece of parchment steadily. "Your name?"

   "Willow."

   He looks up from his paper. "Your full name please."

   "Oh. It's Willow Rosenberg."

   I then watch with unease as he accidentally blots the page. His eyes bore a hole into me, and he whispers, "What was that last name again?"

   "Rosenberg," I repeat, though a bit more shakily.

    I grow tense in my seat. More than one goblin is looking over in our direction, probably responding to this guy's strange reaction, and I suddenly feel very nervous. Something's wrong. Something's very, very wrong…

   And so it is.

   With an energy I'd doubted the little guy carried in his body, the goblin who was serving me leaps up onto the desk and shouts at the top of his lungs, "Thirty-two twenty-four! It's a thirty-two twenty-four!"

   As my eyes widen with alarm, every goblin abandons their customer and whips out a long, thin stick that is similar to ones that I've seen others carrying. And, taken completely by surprise, I don't even have time to call forth my own magick as a stream of brilliant orange light blinds my eyes and sets off fireworks in my head. Fortunately, my last thought turns out the light before it leaves…

                                                             *~*~*~*~*~*~*

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, grumbled discontentedly as pulled his satin robe tighter around his body. He had been awakened from a pleasant sleep full of dreams of the rather nice-looking witch in the temp office, and he was not pleased. He hadn't even had time to get dressed for Merlin's sake! He was still clothed in the pin-stripe two-piece pajama set he'd gone to bed in, plus his scarlet nightcap, blue slippers, and starry satin robe. He'd thought about ignoring the owl from Gringotts all together and waiting till morning to see what the bloody hell was so darn important that he had to come all the way down himself, but when the first owl had been ignored the second one had pecked him on the head. He was going to have a bruise in the morning, he just knew it…

   He yawned a sleepy yawn as he entered the Gringotts building, three of his bodyguards behind him in matching red robes. Security had been stepped up ever since the rumors had started spreading about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the Tri-Wizard tournament, and though Fudge knew it was all nonsense, he still thought it best to have some extra muscle. Protection never hurt anyone right?

   Trying to stifle a second yawn and failing miserably, the Minister of Magic approached the Head Goblin of Gringotts who stood waiting for him with arms crossed inside the nearly empty building.

   "Yes? What is it? What's so important that you had to interrupt my sleep?"

   The creature's face remained expressionless. "If you'll just follow me sir, Dumbledore has already been contacted and is on his way." he turned and started heading towards a door in the back of the room.

   Cornelius nearly let his mouth drop open at being so rudely brushed aside, (and by a goblin no less!), but kept his protests to himself once he heard the name that had been mentioned. He followed after the Head Goblin, a sudden feeling of dread in his stomach.

   "Dumbledore? Albus Dumbledore is coming?"

   The implications were astounding. Fudge glanced back at his bodyguards worriedly, making sure they were still there and protecting him. If it was so important that even Dumbledore was coming then it was not good news. Not good news at all.

   The five of them, bodyguards and all, entered a railway cart and began heading down a track into the underground caverns of Gringotts, silence thick in the air. After perhaps five minutes of riding, they came to a complete stop at a large stone door that was flanked on both sides by two menacing goblins, their wands held stiffly at their side.

   The Head Goblin got out and nodded in greeting to both sentinels, before turning around to face Fudge and his protectors.

   "Nearly fifteen minutes ago, a witch whose name is on the lists of the exiled, entered Gringotts to do business with one of our employees. Luckily she was subdued and brought down here to await your arrival minister. She has not been harmed," he then gave a toothy and frightening grin, "not yet at least."

   Cornelius's mouth dropped open. "That's it? That's what I was called down here for? A banished witch?" he pressed his lips into a thin line angrily. "I hope there's more to it then that. I do not take the interruption of my slumber lightly."

   If possible, the Head Goblin looked just as angry, though for a different reason. Goblins did not take the insulting of their methods well.

   "Forgive me, minister, but it was added into our record books that Ms. Rosenberg is to be considered extremely dang-"

   "Wait," Fudge interrupted, his face now a pale, sickly white. "What is the witch's name?"

   "Willow Rosenberg," the goblin drawled out slowly, taking delight in the minister's reaction.

   With as shaking hand Cornelius pointed towards the door. "And, and she's in, in there?"

   The Head Goblin nodded.

   Fudge suppressed a un-minister like squeak of terror, and began talking swiftly. "Where's your owlery? I've got to get a message off to Azkaban at once, they'll need to bring transport and dementor's and-"

   "That won't be necessary Cornelius."

   Everyone turned around to see a second cart pull up, Albus Dumbledore at the front. He was wearing his midnight blue robe ensemble, and his silvery hair flowed around him mystically. His half moon glasses were set atop his crooked nose, and his eyes twinkled with that magickal mix of mischief and kindness that had become his trademark. He stepped out of the cart gracefully, and after thanking the goblin that'd brought him, turned and faced his audience.

   Fudge at the moment though, was much too frightened and panicked to show the usual respect and awe he had for the wizard before him, and irritation was clearly detectable in his voice.

   "I won't have you interfering this time Dumbledore, it's not your place. That, that… creature almost destroyed the world. Now, the ministry let it go without an Azkaban sentencing because we had… other, more important things to take care of at the time, but she was exiled! And now, now that she's violated that banishment, she'll just have to pay the price." Fudge folded his arms and tried to put on a face of resolve, though in actuality he was shaking at the knees.

   Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow, amusement on his aged face. But, to his credit, he did not insult the minister, or use the many openings unknowingly given to him to point out the ministry's faults in the matter, but that was nothing new. Dumbledore was famous for many things, from his enormous power to his many accomplishments, but the one thing that many loved and adored about him was his almost never-ending patience, tranquility, and kindness.

   Albus folded his hands peacefully. "Please minister, I am aware of the punishment for one who returns unauthorized form exile, but did you consider, that perhaps she did not know of them?" he gave him a placating look. "Before taking this further, could we not find out her reasons for returning?"

   Cornelius mentally clenched his fists, his frustration growing. He wanted to say flat-out 'no', but as always, Dumbledore made it nearly impossible to do so. It's hard to refuse someone who always has logical and solidly based arguments, and who presents them in a calm manner. There was not much that Fudge wouldn't give to see Dumbledore lose his patience once, or insult someone or… or just act plain normal! But, he doubted that it would ever happen. Certainly not tonight in any case.

    After a few more seconds of silent deliberating, he finally relented. "All right Dumbledore. We can ask her about her 'reasons'. I'll indulge you, but only on two conditions."

    Dumbledore remained silent and gave a nod, indicating that Cornelius should continue.

    "First, you have to be sure you can handle her, I won't put my- …I won't put my guards in danger, and second, understand that I'm making the final decision." He glared up at him harshly. "Am I understood?"

    "I understand Cornelius, and agree to your terms." He indicated the door. "Shall we enter?"

   Fudge gave a curt nod, and then motioned for the Head Goblin to undo the many mechanisms and protective precautions keeping the witch on the other side from breaking free.

                                                            *~*~*~*~*~*~*

11:52 pm

Gringotts Underground, Vault 409

(Willow's POV)

"Uhggg," I groan rather pathetically, moving to a sitting position, my eyes still closed. It feels like an all-percussion symphony is playing in my head, and the acoustics are incredible. The orchestra is on a ten-city tour of my brain, and I have a season pass with front row seats.

   Oh goddess, I'm thinking metaphorically. Just how badly was I hurt?

   I give a weak laugh that helps to calm a few fears, and try to glance around through squinted eyes. When I realize how dim the lighting is, I open them fully, and almost loose another moan as I realize that there is nothing to look at. The room is completely empty, save for a torch that's hanging by the door. Unluckily for me however, the door and room is made of stone. There will be no burning my way out of here.

   I frown. Then again, where is here? I remember vaguely talking with the goblin at the bank, and then they all pulled out… sticks. Sticks? That can't be right. I must have damaged something when I went unconscious. Next I'll have memories of Giles and I dancing ballet in bunny suits.

   Try as I might, I can't suppress the giggle that bursts out at the mental image.

   I am, however, able to stifle it quickly enough when I hear the door being opened.

   As I scuttle backwards and press up against the wall, I wonder how it is that all bad guys are able to arrive just after their victim regains consciousness. I also wonder how it is that even when I go to London I manage to get kidnapped. I'll have to remember to ask my mother if it's ever happened to her. It might be a 'Rosenberg' thing.

   I watch with a wary eye as a goblin enters the room and holds the door open for five other people. Three are in identical robes and I judge quickly enough that they're of no real importance, but the other two grab my full attention. What I notice, first and foremost, is that they're not goblins (to which I'm secretly grateful). One is short and stocky, though he carries himself with self-importance and commanding presence. His color choices are atrocious, (though who am I to question?), and he appears, strangely enough, frightened of me. The second man is almost completely opposite in contrast, and is tall, thin, and ancient looking. He is not afraid of me, but nor is he angry with me, and beneath his grandfather form I can sense his power and strength. I am immediately comforted by his presence, and I find myself standing up, my fears put at ease.

    The man with the horrendously matched clothing shifts his weight from side to side nervously before a growing frustration finally bursts out of him. "Oh fine! I'll talk first." He strides up to me quickly. "Why did you violate the terms of your banishment?"

   My jaw nearly hits the floor. "My what?"

   He narrows his eyes, rage overtaking his earlier fear. "Don't play games with me, Rosenberg. You know as well as I do that you were banished indefinitely from the wizarding world."

   I doubt I could be more shocked if Spike suddenly declared that he was a transvestite. A wizarding world? As in a world for wizards? And I was banished from it?

   I hold up my hands as though to ward off all the information that's flying at me so rapidly, and the man in front of me flinches as though I'd taken a swing at him. I quirk my eyebrow, but don't comment. "Okay, I'd like to answer your question, I really would, but I have a few to ask you before I can even make sense of what's being asked."

   I take a deep breath. "First off, what in the hell dimensions do you mean when you say 'wizarding world'? Is it a metaphor, a realm, a… a what exactly?"

    He scoffs. "Oh knock it off Rosenberg, your tricks won't work on me. You know about the wizarding world as well as I do."

   I shake my head. "No, no I don't."

   He freezes, and his features scrunch up in bafflement. The goblin just curls his upper lip into a sneer, (which he has been doing the entire time), and the wiser looking wizard appears mildly surprised and raises his snowy eyebrows. It is he who talks next.

   "Well Cornelius, if that is indeed the case then it would change matters a bit, wouldn't you agree?"

   Cornelius sputters a bit before responding. "But that's, that's preposterous Dumbledore! There's just, there's just no way that she wouldn't know, she, she has to be lying or-"

   "Hey!" I snap, feeling anger rising up. "I don't lie. If anyone here should be skeptical about what they hear it should be me. After all, I'm not the one who kidnapped somebody and locked them in a stone cell now am I?"

   "'Kidnapped'?!" Cornelius repeats, outraged. "Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, does not 'kidnap' anyone."

   "Could have fooled me," I retort.

   His face reddens. "You were detained, Rosenberg. Not kidnapped. You were detained as a result of your voluntary breaking of a sentence imposed upon you nearly a month ago!"

   "A sentence that I was not aware of!" my eyes flash with rage, and I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palm. "And I am not 'Rosenberg', Mr. Chocolate. I have a name."

   "One that you are unfit to be called by," he hisses.

   That does it. I bite my lip and try to suppress the magick that's rising up within me. I can already feel the forces swirling around me, can almost see the subtle change in my hair color from red to black, but I still fight to keep it under control.

   For a few agonizing moments, the world seems to slow.     

   The guy, Fudge or whatever, nearly squeaks and begins to hastily back up against the wall and away form me. His bodyguards have brought out sticks, and the goblin has tensed up for a possible fight. And though I'm battling it down, energy within me is breaking free, loosing sparks around my fingertips.

   And then, unexplainably, I feel an immense calm rush over me. I breathe out slowly, and it's as if a whirlpool has suddenly drained away my anger. My hair returns to its normal shade, and I once again become, more or less, normal.

   I open eyes I didn't know I'd closed, and find myself staring into the depthless serenity of Dumbledore's blue eyes. He is holding one of those sticks I've seen everywhere of late, and his mouth is etched into a firm line. He sighs silently through his nostrils and gazes upon me coolly.

   "I assume you're feeling better now Ms. Rosenberg?"

   I nod, relishing the feeling of peace that's come over me and afraid that it'll disappear if I choose to talk.

   Cornelius looks out shakily from behind his shield, (one of his guards), and then walks forward and clears his throat, trying to regain some form of dignity.

   "I uh, thank you Dumbledore, for ah, for regaining control of the erm, the situation." He tries to smile, but is still trembling too much for it to be successful.

   "You are most welcome Cornelius, though I would suggest that you not provoke Ms. Rosenberg in the future. It is most unbecoming to argue with and insult a woman so much younger than yourself."

   "Oh, er, yes, yes of course." The minister tries to once again dispose of the tremor in his voice. "What is it exactly that you did Dumbledore?"

   "I merely used an empathic spell and gave her a sense of calm." He tilts his head to gaze at me. "It's a simple spell, but it seems to have worked nicely."

   Feeling the nice, soothing feeling slowly drain away, I reluctantly join the conversation again. "So, let me get this straight, I've been banished from a wizarding world, which I'm guessing is a world for wizards and the like, and you two are magickal people, who run magickal governments and magickal banks?"

   Dumbledore nods, trying to keep Fudge from accusing her of false ignorance, and he gives a small smile. "We also have a magickal school Ms. Rosenberg. I'm surprised that you had not received an owl when you were younger."

   "An owl?"

   "Our form of communication."

   "Oh. Well, I sorta grew up on the Hellmouth."

   His eyes widen slightly. "The Hellmouth? That would certainly explain your absent letter then."

   "Oh this is ridiculous!"

   We both turn our heads and looks at Cornelius, whose eyes are blazing. He points a finger at me and addresses Dumbledore. "Certainly you don't believe her Dumbledore?! It's impossible!"

   He puckers his lips slightly. "Oh, not at all Cornelius. It is in fact quite probable."

   If possible, Fudge looks even angrier. "Do you mean to tell me, that the witch who tried to destroy the planet wouldn't know of the wizarding world?!"

   A silence falls over us, and I take in a sudden breath of surprise. So that's why. That's why I've been banished. It all comes down to this. Suddenly it all makes sense. I feel tears rising, remembering the event and the loss that had led me to it. Not wanting the men in front of me to see any show of weakness, I quickly duck my head, trying to keep silent as miniature waterfalls cascade down my cheeks.

   Albus gazes at me in sympathy, but the minister doesn't even notice and just folds his arms, still stubbornly pressing the argument.

   "I'm not going to squander anymore time Dumbledore. She will be going to Azkaban, and she will serve out a sentence there. Hopefully a lengthy one. There is no where else for her to go."

   Dumbledore's attention snaps towards his instantly, and the beginnings of a smile touch his lips. "I'm afraid I have to disagree with you there, Cornelius. There is another place for her."

   "Where?" Fudge scoffs derisively. "The Department of Sanitation? Have her help the wizarding community by magickally cleaning a park?"

   "Have her go clean a park? Oh, dear me, no Cornelius." Dumbledore's eyes twinkle with mischief. "I was thinking more along the lines of her coming to Hogwarts."

************************************************************************************

Dun, dun, dun! (Thunder and lightning in the background) Mwhahahahah! Things are changing, my children of the night. Dumbledore wants Willow to go to Hogwarts? Fudge wants her locked away in Azkaban? What does Willow have to say about all of this, and, more importantly… will it make any difference?

                                                 Please Feed The Writer!

     ----Talk to you soon!