Beyond the Point of No Return @redroseaurora
Chapter 1

Beyond the Point of No Return

Hello! And like I am doing well with keeping up the work with my current stories, here's another one! I can't resist though, say what you will. *shrugs.*

First and foremost, I don't have a clear idea of what will happen, so suggestions are appreciated and welcome, but please don't get upset if I don't use it. I have some ideas, though. Secondly, I am trying to decide how to include the songs. I might do like what I have done for something at the end of this chapter which is to use them but change them so that they are not the same, thus no copyright issues? hopefully? Do you want me to include a song in every chapter? And would it be better to have the lines spoken or actually sung?

1: THIS IS AN AU. Big Au and bits of the Hogwarts era will be revealed in conversation and flashbacks, but otherwise, you will have to ask. If someone gets the burning desire to write it, feel free. let me know so I can read it, though.

2: Sylvia is female Harry, or so I have tried for. But the Abuse from the Dursleys has not been downplayed, and she's a girl, so different things happen to her. She does, however, look very similar to Harry. Without the glasses, though you can pretend that she had them as a child if you wish.

3: I will be using more POTO musical for this, though there maybe some bits from the movie. I have not seen it, but I have read fanfics from it.

4: what the Phantom of the Opera characters look like, IE, which cast they are, is up to you. I personally imagine them as what the Australian LND cast would have been like if they did Phantom of the Opera, but your choice.

5: there maybe some OOC behaviour.

I think that's everything. BTW, my main reason for writing this, is I wanted to have my own version of Phantom of the Opera, but with a bit more magic to it. of course, that won't solve everything.
I do not own Phantom of the Opera, Harry Potter or anything that grand or interesting.

Chapter 1: Pretty lil' Ponies/sleepless Nights

Dong! Dong! the grandfather clock donged, breaking the silence of the room. As it did every time at this ridiculous hour of the morning. It's piecing tune ripping through the silence of Sylvia Potter's bedroom, waking up the room's occupant, much to her dismay.

Sylvia groaned, rolling over grumpily, muttering curses and spells under her breath. She glared at the wall across from her, cursing her life. She had finally fallen asleep after many hours of trying, (so many her CD Player had turned off, having completed the CD,) to only be woken up after what felt like two seconds later.

She sighed, thumping her hands against the bed, growling at how repetitive life was: nothing new as far as her nights went. Here it was, one in the morning yet again and she was yet to get any sleep except for those two minutes before the clock woke her. This was also quite common. If it wasn't the clock, it was the damn dreams that woke her.

This insomnia was not unknown to her, sadly. It had been the way ever since she had defeated Voldemort in the battle of Hogwarts, bringing peace to the magical world. It was now four years since the war ended, and Sylvia was now getting very tired of so little sleep. She was about ready to sell her soul just to get a decent night's sleep.

Sylvia lay in her current position, her eyes closed, hoping sleep would return swiftly. She quickly decided that (yet again) sleep was evading her, and on recent form, it would for a while. She groaned again, kicking off her thin blanket to get up and get some air. It would be easier to sleep if it wasn't so damn hot! She hated summer.
She always did this, and after a while, she returned to bed and would fall asleep, finally. Along with going over her life plans, the night air made her sleepy, something she did while waiting for sleep.

As Sylvia got out of bed and stepped onto the plush rug beside her bed, she pulled down her knee-length pants, which yet again had ridden up to shorts length. She couldn't wear a nightgown, as she hated the feeling of her bare inner thighs touching, it was horrible; same with shorts. She liked to think if she had the time to build her legs to have rounded thighs it wouldn't happen, but Sylvia wasn't that optimistic.

Instead, she brought muggle trouser and shirt pyjamas and wore those to bed, even if they rode up they were nicer to wear. Even at school, she wore pants or leggings under her robes even in school hours, figuring no one would care. If she wore a dress, which was rarely, Sylvia always wore tights.
Sylvia crossed the room to the open french doors, it being too hot to close them. She stepped out onto the balcony, -her bare feet coming into contact with the pleasant almost cool temperature of the concrete- she closed her eyes and smiled, pulling her rather short raven hair out, her ponytail nonexistent. She didn't look at the mirror, but Sylvia was willing to bet her hair looked like a birds nest. It did five minutes after she'd brushed it, so it was a safe bet.

When Sylvia came to the railing, she opened her eyes and lent against it placing her elbows on the railing. She admired the view in front of her: the sprawling green fields that swept up to the eerie Malfoy Manor. Hedges were the only other thing she could make out, which were dotted in an orderly fashion to border the fields. She was sure the family's peacock collection were somewhere out there; horrid creatures. They had it in for her, always chasing Sylvia when they had the chance.

It was a bright night tonight, meaning the dark and elegant Manor House was illuminated, making it a bit eerie. To be fair, though, it was a bit of an eerie place, to begin with. Sylvia shivered: she thought it was pretty and used to like the manor once upon a time, but now she couldn't stand it.

After the war, the manor reeked of death, bloodshed and pain and it depressed them. Even Draco, who had lived there his entire life, found he couldn't stand it now, either. In fact, Draco and Ginny had confided in her about how they were going to tell Draco's parents they didn't want to raise their children in that out.

Sylvia, before coming to the wizarding world, had never had any friends or people she could rely on or trust. Certainly, no one who would give her a house without any strings, as the Malfoys had. They saw her as part of the family: Sylvia smiled, a tear of joy falling. She was blessed.

In fact, her first friend in the magical world and in her life generally had been Draco Malfoy. He had helped her get onto Platform nine and three quarters, and things escalated from there to today. If it weren't for Sylvia, Draco would be an entirely different person, but the same could be said the other way, too.

She was still not sure why she had met the Malfoys in the Muggle world that day, considering they disliked muggles and felt uncomfortable in their world. It was something to do with Draco, she knew, as he always looked embarrassed when she brought it up, changing the subject straight away.

After helping her, Draco let her sit with him and his friends/cronies, very gentlemanly inviting her when they got onto the train. Sylvia, before meeting Draco, didn't recall a time when someone had been so nice to her. She accepted the invite, only because he was so kind to her.

Pansy, Theodore, Crabbe, Goyle and Tracy hadn't been interested in conversing with her, though they were nice enough. But it had made it Sylvia talking with Draco only, meaning they found out a lot about each other. Sylvia accidentally let slip a little about her home life, and he had been understanding. Not drowning her with sympathy, understanding and commiserating. In turn, he told her about himself, including some things he never wanted to say.

Draco's parents treated him well, however, he struggled with the constant change. One moment he was raised with discipline, poise. They told him to keep to their values but taught him to be open-minded to even Muggle-borns, then the next spoilt rotten, then the next told to be racist against them. Sylvia soon saw how that played into his interactions with other people including her.

Sylvia and later Daphne, helped him sort out his confusion, though Draco could still be a pompous prat at times. They and their other friends had no shame in telling him off for being one. Draco took great offence to it, but no one took that seriously.

Sylvia, even now, was still quite shy and quiet. Her friends helped her come out of her shell and allowed her to grow and be quite fiery at times. She had the same fiery temper as her mother, apparently, not that she ever knew her. As a result, Sylvia ended up in some ripper arguments with her friends, usually Draco. Never to anyone else, Sylvia found she didn't have the courage.

Sylvia laughed at the memory of how she met Daphne Greengrass, the coolest friend a girl could have. After Snape was evil to Sylvia in her first potion's class, Daphne found Sylvie and cheered her up, calling Snape every name under the sun in the process. She offered to help her get back at him, not that they ever did. That was just the start of their friendship.

Dear Daphne had been very cheeky and on the daring side, but she was a little awkward socially. That had been clear with how Daphne had spoken to Sylvia. And she had very old-fashioned clothing tastes: Sylvia cringed at some set of robes she had tried to get her to wear.

Sylvia's heart clenched, along with the shower of pain, grief and pure agony of her friend's death returning to great her. This also was not uncommon for these sleepless nights.

Sylvia screamed as Daphne fell, running to catch her as she fell. Sylvia was horrified at the sight of Daphne's face looking up to her: Sylvia fell to her knees. Daphne's face was lifeless, and while the part African couldn't pale, Sylvia thought Daphne had, fitting in with deathly pale. Her eyes were dull and blank, staring up at Sylvia like a creepy doll: one could almost mistake them for glass. It was wrong; to top it off, she had a dazed expression left upon her face for all time.

Tears formed in Sylvia's eyes, recalling how quickly it all happened. She tried to fight them, wiping them away. Growing up, Sylvia's cousin Dudley would always unkindly tease her when she cried. As a result, Sylvia had developed a loathing of crying, even in private.

Sylvia barely knew what happened. One moment, they were joking with Colin over something unimportant, the next Daphne fell into Sylvia's arms, lifeless. Both of them had been upset, but Colin was devastated: Sylvia had been concerned he'd just die or commit suicide right there and then. Sylvia hadn't known until then, but she quickly realised Colin had feelings for their dark-haired friend.

Sylvia couldn't grieve then, she had to get herself, Colin and the body out of there, otherwise, they'd all have died and Daphne's body lost, depriving the Greengrass' of even a funeral and burial for their eldest child and big sister.

Sylvia didn't get to mourn her friend until after the war was over. She hit a slump that lasted well into her return to school. It took Draco, Ginny and Luna locking her into a room and giving her a strong pep-talk before she actually started putting effort into life. Thanks to them, she managed to get decent NEWT scores, (mostly Es with As and one O,) when otherwise she would have failed spectacularly. They'd tried with Colin, but unlike her, had no success.

Sylvia felt surprised as something went fell onto her knuckle; it was too warm to be raining. She realised she'd stopped wiping the tears away, or there were just too many to keep up with. Either way, Sylvia stopped, the tears falling freely.

She looked down at her little garden, eyeing the bronze statue under the juniper tree. Fleur and Gabrielle had taken her for a tour around Paris once, where they visited an action where this statue was for sale. As soon as she saw it, Sylvia was reminded of Daphne, she was sure, (despite how silly it was,) the statue was one of Daphne's ancestors. She brought it, paying an awful lot of money for it. In Sylvia's mind, though, every penny was worth it.

She had also brought a creepy monkey music box, which supposedly was found under Paris Theatre. Sylvia didn't even want it, but neither did anyone else. The reason she got it was Sylvia couldn't resist a bargain, and the owner came up to her after the action asking for twenty euros: a bargain considering the reserve was ninety. She still found it creepy, though the song it played was nice. Supposedly it belonged to a mythical Opera Ghost, not that Sylvia quite believed that. It was ghastly enough for a ghost, though. Sylvia, since, had the music box in the attic.

Sylvia gave the bronze statue a small smile. She'd never forget Daphne or perhaps get over her death, but maybe, just maybe, the pain would ease. Then she could help Colin, to who she had been a terrible friend to recently: Sylvia would admit that freely.

He managed to finish his school okay, scrapping out Es and As in important subjects for him, but after, he hit a slump. It took Ginny apparating to his house and dragging him to work for him to still be employed and earning money.

Not that Sylvia was sure Luna, (their boss,) would fire anyone unless they were a dick. As far as she could tell, he went through the motions, which was easy enough to do, being a photographer. It would ruin the mood for Ginny and Luna though, poor girls.

Sylvia shivered and hugged herself. The wounds of her good friend's death were fresh enough Daphne's body always came to haunt her when she tried to sleep. Usually along with Daphne or her other friends, jeering and blaming her for her death.

Needless to say, Sylvia didn't get much sleep at night, and that was when she managed to get to sleep, hence her near-constant insomnia. She couldn't even take potions or muggle things, as she was either allergic to them or they were highly addictive, meaning she couldn't take them regularly enough to not be eternally tired.

Muggle medication didn't keep the nightmares away, which were the issue half the time, so she didn't use those, either. Not that taking any sort of sleeping medication long term was good. Sylvia would rather die of lack of sleep than be on tons of sleep meds.

Everyone had assured Sylvia she couldn't have done anything to save Daphne, but Sylvia still felt responsible. She wasn't sure she could have done anything, but she should have tried! Perhaps been more serious and alert? Perhaps if she had been, she could have pushed Daphne out of the way, or something. She wanted to scream, but Sylvia strangled it. Instead, she let out a long pained cry.

They had been caught on their way to the Room of Requirement, where they hoped to use the room to creep up on Voldemort and his snake until the group got split up by Death Eaters. Sylvia wished she had gone ahead alone, leaving Colin and Daphne to instead destroy the rubble blocking Draco, Cho and Ginny's path.
Sylvia laughed bitterly. They would have refused to let her go alone, saying those three could manage just fine, or say she couldn't go alone. While they didn't interact with many people outside of their little group, they were fiercely loyal to each other, and she knew her friends would have all followed her into death or hell. They certainly wouldn't have left her, knowing every Death Eater and some of the students were ready to hand her to Voldie.

Despite there being nothing obvious she could do, Sylvia felt guilty and wanted Daphne back. Daphne was the friend who had understood all the things Ginny and Luna didn't. Daphne had taught her life skills, including dressing up like a tart, (albeit, an old-fashioned tart,) and saved her in front of pureblood aristocrats. Neither of which Ginny and Luna were interested in that nor knew about it, and Cho and Fleur came into her life too late. Not that Sylvia was overly interested, but it was fun to do every, now and then.

Sylvia cried. She loved Luna and Ginny and got on well with Cho, Fleur, and others, but neither of them were her friend Daphne. Despite being the woman who would tell a teacher in front of the entire school she hated them and was quite happy to be a bitch about it, Daphne was a lovely person and Sylvia loved her as a sister. She could complain about boys, her other friends, Sirius: anything. The other girl always understood and told her what she needed to feel better.

As Sylvia looked at the stars, teary-eyed again, she wished she could have Daphne's advice now. She wondered if Daphne was up there, watching her. If so, did she miss being with Colin and everyone? Or was she content just watching them?

No doubt she spent the entire time telling the others who had passed on how they could be arranging their lives better, or how Draco should have punched Granger at work. Probably for mouthing off about Sylvia or complaining about the lack of interest in Vampire rights.

Sylvia didn't know why Granger was so into getting vampires to have the same rights as Centaurs, werewolves, Goblins and Veela. Unlike those three, they didn't have even an ounce of respect for wizards or care about them at all, and ninety-nine percent of them were horrible and would sooner murder you than work with you or for you.

Having said that it was part of Granger's job, being head of the Dangerous Creatures and Species Communication Department. If a vampire or goblin had a problem with the ministry, they were encouraged to go to her department. If there were enough complaint on lack of vampire rights, like the common using a wand unless they were in Pennsylvania or Romania, places where vampires could learn to use one and own one, she had to bring the complaint forward.

Even without the lack of understanding over her work interests, Sylvia would still hate Granger. Everyone else at school could ignore Sylvia even if they hated her, but not Granger, no. She was always sticking her nose in Sylvia's business, then complained when she or her friends got grumpy or cold about it.

Sylvia thought Ron Weasley could have gotten better friends: she would have tried to include him and reach out if he hadn't been friends with that girl. Now he was married to the tart: she didn't feel sorry for that choice. The worst part was Granger hadn't even mellowed with age.

Ron was actually quite nice by himself, especially after Sylvia saved his sister. Pity about the company he kept. While Granger had a good rank in the ministry, her husband was the minister. While Sylvia didn't know if it was true, but there was a belief Granger got her position mostly through Ron's rising, albeit surprising, success, though the bushy-haired girl would deny it.

Sylvia sighed, trying to stop the tears, continuing to think about Granger to aggravate herself to stop crying: it didn't work. She tried to wipe the tears away then, with little success. A gentle breeze picked up then, but it wasn't a cold or hot breeze, and it helped. It was actually quite comfortable, warm, comforting. As it blew, it messed Sylvia's hair up into a very impressive mess, (not that it wasn't already messy,) and Sylvia thought she heard what sounded like a voice as she brushed a lock of hair out of her vision.

Sylvia supposed the voice wasn't real, but everything told her it was Daphne's voice. Despite the likelihood of it being the creation of her overtired and imaginative mind, Sylvia found herself comforted and believing it to be her. Sylvia heard,

"Cheer up, Sylvia. I am always here."

"I miss you, Daphne," Sylvia whispered sadly. She turned around and heading back inside.

She climbed back into bed to get some sleep. She knew she would be very tired in the morning, as it was almost already and she had to be up by seven-thirty: she'd end up with four hours sleep, at most.

Sylvia had managed on four hours sleep before, so she was sure she'd manage tomorrow. What Sylvia didn't know, though, was that tomorrow was going to be more than surviving work without falling asleep. Everything would change, and everything Sylvia knew and had would be uprooted, destroyed and everything else. She would be very grateful to have been adopted by her Slytherin friends. But nothing would ever be the same again.

Before she tried to get to sleep, Sylvia flicked her wand to the black CD player on her sakura chest of draws, restarting the playlist. She loved muggle music but wasn't such a fan of wizard music, so she came up with a way to enjoy the music in her native world. After buying the machine, she used charms and runes to make it run around magic.

As Sylvia felt her mind fall asleep, the words of all the 'Pretty Little Ponies' song sang around the room:

"Hush-a-by, don't you cry,

go to sleep, my little baby.

When you wake, you will have: all the pretty lil'' ponies.'

She didn't hear anymore.

Done. I do not Own All the Pretty little ponies. While it doesn't matter, I imagine the greengrasses as black in this story. And there is something about the creepy music box! can you guess? I hope this chapter sets the scene.

It was my idea to have the Malfoys owning many cottages and little houses, just because. While she will get sent back shortly, I do plan to have a few catch-ups with the present time, the reactions, learning to live without her, and stuff. Maybe there will be a drama and danger from the future? Who knows!

I will have chapter two out next Tuesday or later this week depending on what my muse does. Please vote in my poll, it will help me a lot. I believe this is everything.

Is the category correct?

Nothing else for now. I am sure I have forgotten something, though.

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