He was standing on high platform under a very bright spotlight and when he looked down, there was a sea of faces looking back at him screaming their lungs out and going wild. In his hand was a guitar and his fingers were moving over it so fast and the chords were totally awesome. He. Was. Awesome. And as he finished his solo, he could hear the crowd screaming out 'Axe', 'Axe,' 'Axe,' 'Axe'...


"Marcus..."

It was a new voice and it sounded so much closer than the screaming which had now faded away and it was far too quiet. The last time he had woken in such a quiet place he had been tied to chair and was being held by...

He sat bolt upright, flicking his wrist as he did so and his wand was in his hand and pointed out in front of him. Pain seared through his ribs and he cursed loudly as his vision came into sharper focus.