In which Lily is sentenced to death by beheadin by the goffick Wizengamot for the crime of gnostical turpitude as evidenced by the murder of Ebony Way.

In accordance with the law the death sentence was announced to Lily in a whisper.

At least, the laws of this world, undoubtedly a trial before the Wizengamot for murder in the world she'd previously inhabited would have been quite different. As it was though, Lily had not stood trial before the Wizengamot for murder at all, no, the murder of Ebony Way was merely evidence.

A rather large factor, but certainly resting among other small factors such as Lily's ability to convert from prep to goth to back again, to exhibit behaviors of both clans without even a hint of remorse or conflict. Murder, in itself, was a non-concept, and if it was then it was only a crime depending on the disposition of the criminal.

Goths murdered, tortured, raped, and pillaged all the time, it was in their very nature to do so. In fact, to avoid these traits was to be a perversion of nature itself.

Similarly, preps were incapable of the slightest act of real violence, they crumpled in the face of righteous gothic adversity as they well should.

This, among other things, had been explained by the overdramatic prosecution in Lily's trial.

"Not a fooking prep but not a fooking goff neither," the man, in eyeliner, a ruined black suit, and dark stringy hair accused her with a black gloved finger, "She's a fucking freak of nature, the stupid bitch."

She'd been sitting, chained to her seat, thinking of nothing and everything as first the defense sang a pretty song and then the prosecution sang one too for good measure. And in the end, as she'd listened, it'd become clear to her that neither the defense nor the prosecution was for or against Lily.

Perhaps because, to them, in many ways, Lily was something that should not exist. She was a sentient being in a world where even the illusion of sentience had flickered out.

Now, in her cell in Azkaban, staring forward at the gray slabs of stone that formed the walls, Lily mused, that somehow the dank dreariness of her cell was somehow far more comforting than the empty and abandoned Hogwarts had been at the end of things.

She closed her eyes and breathed out, not a sigh of relief, but more of a means of letting go and…

"Eleanor, you stupid fucker prep, is that you?"

She opened them, there, across from her, was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Well, what was left of Albus Dumbledore, he was looking rather worse for wear and not just because of the goffism either. His hair was matted, gothic clothes hanging off of his frame, and Lily wondered if she had ever seen him look so old even with his hair dyed.

At catching her eye he cackled in delight, "Ha, I knew you'd end up here, you ludicrous motherfucker."

Lily pursed her lips, noting, quietly, "You're here."

"I am old and weak and I have cancer," he said, rather dismissively and without the least concern for his own health, "I will be in Hogwaaarts soon."

Lily merely offered him a thin, polite, smile, knowing that Hogwarts was hardly any different from here and hardly any better. Albus Dumbledore was welcome to it.

"And you, fucker?" he asked.

"Death by beheading," Lily noted, "I'm told it's traditional."

Newly, traditional, because as Lily had always heard it, it was the dementors that were supposed to devour the soul of those capitally punished. However, for whatever reason, the dementors no longer seemed to bother the English wizarding population. For that matter, Lily wondered if there were even dementors at all.

"Ja," Dumbledore merely responded, neither with sympathy nor with much condemnation, quickly closing his own eyes and succumbing to sleep.

And Lily wondered exactly how long it would be now, they hadn't said, she imagined they'd want to get it over with quickly, but they had seemed an easily distracted bunch even without Ebony Way in the room. In fact, without Ebony Way, Lily's trial had often detoured into discussions of building her monument, holding her third and even fourth funeral, and the palace that should be made out of her mausoleum with both Draco and Vampire burying themselves inside of it with her.

In fact, from what she'd heard, it was a worldwide epidemic, as the world cut their wrists in despair so that they might join Ebony Way in the afterlife.

Lily's trial had been delayed five times because of it, and even then, they'd lost half the Wizengamot members during the trial itself as they wept with rage and despair for the death of beloved Ebony Way.

"Did you see Ebobby before coming here?"

Lily opened her eyes again to see Dumbledore peering across at her with avid interest, clearly hanging on her response. Strange, had had both conveniently been Ebony's enemy and desperately trying to be her friend.

"Yes," Lily said shortly, before with a thought, adding, "She's dead though."

He paused, that single sentence seemed to shatter something in it, then, tears pouring down his face he cried, "Noooooooooo one, one, one!"

He was incapable though, even now, of despairing like a true human being. Lily went on, "It was a bullet at a concert, they thought she might recover, but she didn't."

And they had, they'd tried CPR, everyone on stage then Tom Satan Riddle himself. However, nothing had worked, where slitting wrists had done nothing, Lily's will and bullet had finally been more than enough.

And at least there was something satisfying in that even if there wasn't in anything else.

Death… Would it even stick? Lily didn't think so, not for her, it never had before so why would it now. But all the same… What was left for her here?

Pointlessness does not equate meaninglessness, she'd said that to Rabbit, hadn't she? Of course, he'd said Ebony Way's death would change nothing, and he'd been right.

There was wretched sobbing, glancing over, she found herself unsurprised to see what was left of Albus Dumbledore trying to slit his wrists with a loose jagged stone. His hand shook desperately, his wrist scraped raw, and tears poured down his face as Lily watched in helpless, resigned, fascination.

"You know that won't bring her back," Lily noted but he just shook his head.

"Thar is noo world without Enoby!"

Lily snorted, a loud jarring sound in the eerie darkness of the prison, emptied out of all the previous criminals who likely had been cool goths themselves, leaving only her and Dumbledore, "There was no world with her either."

"How dar you!" he accused, eyes blazing across the gap between their cells, "It is because of people like you that she is dead!"

"It was my bullet," Lily acknowledged, watching as his eyes widened in horror and revulsion, "That said, apparently, murder isn't the reason I'm here."

No, it had been… What had it been? They hadn't been entirely clear; her sentencing had come in the middle of deciding whether Billy Joe or Marilyn Manson should write the ballad immortalizing Ebony Way forever. However, it could have been her mishearing, but she'd thought at one point, among things like prep, goff, that they'd said it was gnostical turpitude. Something that…

Well, seemed to boil down to the crime of having the ability to think with any true meaning.

It had been very unclear though, ultimately, Lily supposed it didn't matter.

The door opened, the grotesque remnants of Cornelius Fudge waltzed in to Dumbledore's cell, "Dumbledorf, we ned you to teach at Hogwaaarts. But you will noot be principle!"

Dumbledore, bleeding, weak, and weary, was then dragged out of the cell by two goth goons and through the hallway, out of Lily's sight. As he was taken he moaned, the name Ebony a ceaseless chant upon his chapped lips.

And then they were all gone, and it was just Lily, alone in the fortress of Azkaban.

What would Wizard Lenin say, if he was here?

Probably that she'd made a real mess of things this time, which, she had, she supposed, though she argued that it was hardly her fault. He might, after ranting, find it vaguely funny or at least ironic that they'd stuffed the girl-who-lived in Azkaban.

He'd be unnerved, dreadfully upset, but he'd… Well, she didn't know, just that perhaps that strange softness that seemed to come over him now and then would be there too.

Death, too, would be there, as would the train station, Luna, even Rabbit, and everyone else who had been left behind or forgotten by the world itself.

The stone walls stared back at Lily, unfeeling and uncaring, and yet…

With a clarity she never experienced before—at first almost painful, so suddenly did it come, but then suffusing her with joy, she reflected: why am I here? Why am I lying like this? And having asked herself these simple questions, she answered them by approaching the door and looking around.

It looked the same as ever, as flat as ever, yet that flatness gave Lily a curious sense of optimism, of hope. A reminder that it was only as real as she allowed it to be, and that the truer world, the realer one, undoubtedly existed elsewhere.

And though the executioners were not present Lily could hear them screaming in dismay and horror and strange confusion.

The bars shuddered and became transparent, malleable beneath her fingertips, slowly Lily bent them and stepped through. Little was left of Azkaban. The spiral staircases and stone walls had long since collapsed in grayed gothic dust. Everything was coming apart. Everything was falling. A spinning wind was picking up and whirling; dust, rags, chips of painted woods, bits of gilded plaster, pasteboard bricks, posters; an arid gloom fleeted; and amidst the dust, and the falling things, and the flapping scenery, Lily made her way in that direction where, to judge by the voices, stood beings akin to her.

And with her final exit from the stage, all the lights at last went out.

Author's Note: And thus we reach the end, where I reference heavily in the last major paragraph and in the premise of the beheading and gnostical turpitude, Vladimir Nabokov's "Invitation to a Beheading". Well, it's been fun everyone, but it's time to move on to more legitimate things. It may be the shortest chapter yet, but in the face of darkness and light, I found there was not much to be said that hadn't been said already.

Thanks for reading and reviewing, reviews are much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or My Immortal