Demelza had been in hiding for weeks. Since the dagger incident, nobody had heard of her. The Magpie had officially ended her reign of thieving terror. The Ministry must've been on her tail by now, and that - that was one thing Demelza didn't need. Her whole income had been stopped, her magic gone haywire and her reputation diluted. Taking that dagger had been the worst thing Demelza had ever stolen.

Standing on the jagged rocks of Land's End, the sea rose in a half-hearted frame, gaining speed as it met the rocks, then fizzling out in a grey and azure foam. Staring at the impotent waves, Demelza shook her blonde locks, snapping herself out of this self-induced hypnosis. She'd bid farewell to Melanthe, to all of her other Knockturn comrades. It was her time to leave England. Dressed in a long black cloak, she'd made it all the way to Land's End undetected from London, choosing to fly rather than apparate. Her trunk and belongings from her small flat had already been transported to Paris, where a few of her old 'colleagues' had agreed to get her on the French thieving scene.

Turning around once more, it was a difficult choice to make. She'd grown up on this soil, only to ignore every opportunity for an adrenaline-filled, get-rich-quick career. And Demelza had loved every second of her wicked little life. She'd always said that once she became wanted, once one of her hits had affected the Ministry, that it was time to leave. And she was sure that this 'time' she talked of was at her feet as she stood on the very edge of Land's End.

Sitting on her broom and instantly soaring up above the dark, midnight sea of the English Channel, she turned around once more to give her nation one last glance. To all of those she robbed, conned, defeated and disregarded. Was there a tiny part of her that regretted this life? Regretted the heartache and suspicion she had caused so many of the wizarding rich? Demelza parted her lips, as if to speak.
Only a cackle emerged.
"SO LONG, SUCKERS!"

The End.