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23rd October 1979 Winbourne House @milliondollarjillian

Rosalind wanted it known the matching costumes were not her idea. She wasn’t one for costumes at all, so had chosen a simple golden ballgown, and a tiara -- an ode to an old magical fairy tale about a princess. She was waiting in the corner, sipping her champagne, as she waited for Jill to find her.

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When: Monday 16th August, 1979 Where: Brazil Who: @adrianvallancourt, @milliondollarjillian

Bertie almost couldn’t believe it was his last week in Brazil. The summer had flown by, and he’d barely noticed it go. He’d learnt so much, could confidently carry a conversation in Portuguese, and had explored more of the city than he ever thought he would. He’d fallen in love with the city he’d called home for the past six weeks -- it felt bittersweet to be leaving. But there was also the feeling that something was going on. The last week there was a sense of urgency around, and even when he left Court he was warned to head straight home, to keep an eye out. There were whispers, too fast for him to fully comprehend, but words were picked up. Protests, September seventh, rebels. When he asked his colleagues, the other assistants, they simply told him nothing was going on. But still, as things grew more uneasy he continued to wonder what was brewing.

He was sitting at his desk in the Minister’s Office, tucked away in the corner where he could still be of use, but wasn’t close enough to the high level members of staff that he would overhear anything of real importance. He was burying himself into his work for the day when a loud bang came from the other side of the walls of the ministry.

The room fell silent, for just a moment. And then everyone was up. He supposed, much like his own Ministry of Magic, and the Ministry of Magical Affairs in France, there were protocols to be followed. Unlike his last two internships however, Bertie hadn’t been briefed on safety protocols. He supposed that perhaps they were so confident in the safety of their own ministry that no one thought Bertie, as someone who was only to be there seven weeks, would need to know. But there was a sense of urgency in the air, and everyone was starting to get more and more frantic. Bertie started to follow suit, towards the door, only to find a crowd gathering. It had been blocked from the other side, and wouldn’t budge.

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My friends? What world are you living in? I don't need friends, I need fans. Don't you get it? This has never been about killing you. It's about....becoming you.