A/N: After receiving a very long review on the Fifth Marauder, that unfortunately was unsigned so I couldn't respond directly, I thought I'd better clarify some things. First up, ages of the Potter clan:

James and Buffy (real age at return to magical world) = 33

Buffy's ALTERED AGE = 23

Dawn's age = 17

Harry's age = 15

Dawn is two years older than Harry, and six years young than Buffy's ALTERED age, as chosen by the Watchers' Council. NOT six years younger than James and Buffy's real age. James did not have Harry when he was eight.

I understand that this is a little odd, as Buffy has technically has two ages, but in general, the younger option will only be used when she wants to call people old, or argue that she's not old.

Second, the difference in looks of the Potter siblings:

Fraternal twins, such as twins of different genders, are only 50% identical, the same as any siblings. So they have similar face shapes, but inherited the two mainly described characteristics, hair and eyes, from different parents. Yes, the 'you look so like your mum/dad' idea has been extrapolated in this case, but take Harry – children aren't normally near-perfect copies of one parent, but he is. Perhaps in the wizarding world, where we know that families have dominant characteristics (Weasley red hair, anyone? Not to mention Draco basically being a mini-Lucius.) these similarities are more pronounced, possibly due to the smaller gene pool, given that the only influx of new genetic material is through Muggleborns and marriages with Muggles. As for Dawn, yes, the TV series Dawn appearance is totally different again. But as explained, it is an illusion. She actually looks a lot like James and Harry, but with James, Buffy and Dawn's mother's eyes. In terms of the Potter siblings, James was almost a carbon copy of his father, Buffy had her mother's hair and petite frame but her father's eyes, and Dawn took after her father but with her mother's eyes. All perfectly believable.

Hank and Joyce were adoptive parents of Buffy and Dawn. They were not in any way, shape or form blood relations of the Potter family.

Dawn didn't go to an American magic school, as they were in HIDING. Also known as trying not to be found. She was trained by a Watcher, continued her studies using books, and later her training was added to by Spike, Angel, Willow and Tara at different times. Faith also trained her during season 7, and Buffy after season 6.

Sorry about that, was the only way I could find to address said reviewer, if the mysterious 'M' has continued this far, I hope this answers them. If not, PM me, and we can debate this somewhere other than at the start of chapters : )

Anyway, ON WITH THE STORY (sorry it took so long… I'm blaming the depression…)

Hogwarts' Great Hall, Gryffindor Table, morning.

"Is it just me, or do they all look bloody knackered?"

The softly spoken words filtered down the table to Harry, from where Ron appeared to have forgotten about the mounds of food on the table, in favour of staring disbelievingly at the head table, mouth slack and thankfully free of half-chewed breakfast. Harry and Hermione both followed his gaze, and their eyes widened as they took in the clearly exhausted staff. Hermione even forgot to reprimand the redhead for his language, she was so stunned by the fact that not only were the majority of teachers looking like they hadn't had two hours sleep between them, but also the fact that the usually oblivious boy had noticed. Harry's eyes scanned the row – all four Heads of House, the headmaster and Umbridge especially looked strained.

"Maybe it there was, y'know, bird-watching?" Ron muttered, dropping his gaze to his two friends and making use of the Scooby-gang invented (and rigorously kept secret from all but a few members) nickname for the Order's activities.

"Umbridge is tired too. She's definitely not a… bird-lover," Hermione whispered back, wrinkling her nose.

"Maybe… marking? Or lesson planning?" Harry offered weakly, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"Too early in the term, and almost all of them have been teaching long enough to have lesson plans sorted," Hermione countered.

"Hey, d'you think someone blew something up? Or a problem in one of the other houses? I know if I was in Slytherin for longer than five minutes I'd start hexing something…" Ron offered, seeming oddly intrigued by the prospect.

"I doubt Professor Snape would ask for help if it was his house, Ronald," Hermione answered, rolling her eyes, "and I think we would have heard any explosion loud enough to keep them all from sleeping."

"Well, what then? Do you have any brilliant ideas?" Ron shot back. Harry suppressed a sigh at the near-constant bickering between his two best friends, and scanned the rest of the table. The news of overtired teachers had spread like wildfire, and more than a few students were not-so-subtly debating exactly how much leeway this would allow in classes today. Fred and George even appeared to be taking bets on whether teachers would be stricter (2-1 odds on McGonagall and Snape, if Harry could still read the twins' rather odd hand signals) or more lax with regards discipline. A little further down the table, Dawn and Nix sat, apparently deep in conversation, and glancing down to something beneath the table. Across the hall, Harry spotted Connor half paying attention to the idle conversation of the Slytherin table and half checking something beneath the table. Had they finally figured out a channel of communication within the school? If they had, Harry would soon know about it, as his aunt had promised that he would be a part of it, if only in case one of the emergencies that tended to find him occurred. Just as he was about to glance away, Connor shot him a smirk, and glanced meaningfully up at the staff table. Did that mean…?

"I think Connor knows something," Harry hissed, interrupting his arguing friends. Hermione looked momentarily startled, and looked around for the seventh year, who was know thoroughly focused on his plate. She froze for a second, looking up their own table, then turned slowly back to Harry and Ron.

"Yes, I think he might. Dawn just winked at me," she confided.

"Do you think they did something?" Ron muttered, glancing round at the two American Gryffindors.

"I wouldn't put it past them…" Harry muttered.

"I doubt they'd be sat here if they were behind Professor Snape losing sleep," Hermione countered, grinning minutely.

"Potions is going to be a nightmare, isn't it?" Harry asked, not expecting an answer. From his left, Neville groaned in despair.

Wizarding London, mid-morning.

"A pleasure to see you again, Griphook," Buffy began politely, settling herself into the large leather armchair facing the goblin's desk. "And may I say, I was both surprised and glad to hear that you were able to accompany Harry on his first visit to this fine establishment."

The goblin gave a smirk, or what would have passed for a smirk on a human face. He placed his elbows on the desk's surface, and leant forwards.

"It has long been the custom for the Potter account manager to escort the family," he replied.

"Usually at the request of the head of household," Buffy countered. "And House Potter is gratified to learn that Gringotts has kept our tradition alive, even without such a person in place."

Griphook froze momentarily and gave her a shrewd look:

"Your father did indeed teach you well, Lady Potter. The partners were concerned that the fortunes of House Potter would have fallen on harder times without a well-versed custodian, needless to say, I will be happy to reassure them. Am I to presume you will be instructing young Mister Potter in time for him to take the reigns at his coming of age?"

"Then, or whenever he feels ready. I won't rush him into taking over the finances, or any other part of being the head. He's been through a lot," Buffy trailed off, looking out of the window. A flicker of concern crossed her face, before she turned back to the goblin.

"That is, in part, why I am here," she continued. "I would like to have copies of the accounts for the last three years, for both my sister and nephew to learn from. While Gringotts takes excellent care of our interests, my father impressed upon myself and my dear brother the importance of at least being capable of following and understanding our own finances, even if we did not deal with them in person. I would also like a report detailing the family finances, covering from two years prior to my father's death up until the present situation. That should give me a fair overview to help get me up to speed, don't you think?" Buffy smiled at the goblin, who was momentarily taken aback.

"Anything else?" the goblin asked with what Buffy presumed was the goblin equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

"Details of investments, as I wish to check on the companies' suitability after such a period. I wouldn't want any of our more of our controlling interests to be outright defying their contracts, and I'd hate to crash the stock without first warning the other shareholders that I was considering it… Oh, and I believe the Estate was left in trust with Gringotts? I'll be needing any reports you have, and the status of the house elves, so I can meet with the Head Elf as soon as possible. Will that be a problem?"

"Of course not, Lady Potter," Griphook responded, having recovered himself promptly. "Gringotts is glad you have returned to do business with us once again."

"And may it benefit us both," Buffy replied with a nod, leaving the office.

Benefit indeed, Griphook thought as the door shut behind her. Yes, the bank's partners would be more than satisfied with the new keeper of the Potter funds, and he'd still have his head attached when the Potter boy turned seventeen. After all, the Potter fortune was one of the largest the bank handled. If it declined, so would Gringotts. And woe betide anyone who allowed that…

Hogwarts' Lakeside, afternoon.

"I knew you'd get it working."

Dawn grinned at the phone in her, before pushing down her amusement and replying archly: "And what kind of greeting is that?"

"One that shows my absolute faith in your abilities," the voice countered smoothly.

"Hello, Logan," Dawn smiled, settling herself down onto a rock. She'd come out to the lake, hoping not to be disturbed while she tested the freshly modified mobile phone. She'd be issuing them to Nix, Connor and Harry later, as soon as she had them approved by Professor Dumbledore for use in the school – though they'd never use them in classes except in cases of emergencies. But for this test, she wanted to have some privacy, and not only because she didn't want anyone around if the piece of technology decided this was one modification too far, and simply blew up in hand in protest.

"Hello, beautiful," came the response, as light and teasing as always. "So, tell me about Hogwarts?"

"It's every bit as beautiful and insane as Buffy told us. I can't quite get my head around the fact that I live in a castle, with actual dungeons… Which Connor lives in. How crazy is that?"

"How's he coping with the Slytherins?"

"Seems to have them half-terrified that he'll suddenly remember that vampires kill people and decide to go on a murderous rampage to uphold his family's traditions. Either that, or they plain don't believe that he's descended from vamps, but at least it means none of them are trying too hard to curry favour. He's still got no patience for that sort of thing."

"And you?"

"You know me, Lo. I much prefer to keep people in suspense, so we've told them very little. They don't know that I'm adoptive kin, and I doubt they will find out, short of an attack that requires a move of all-out defiance. Only around half of them believe that Nix is Shade, and not one seems to have figured out that he's heir apparent, thankfully. Imagine how many kinds of chaos that would cause! How's everyone there?"

"Spike's still doing his level best to drive Angel round the bend, though it's easier now he's corporeal again. No one here seems to have forgiven Angel entirely for wiping their memories of Connor, though they're all eager to meet him again. Maybe we can set something up for Christmas?"

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts, early evening.

"Are there any further objections?" Professor Dumbledore asked calmly. The squat witch shifted in her seat, before simpering:

"No, Headmaster. I'll be sending a report to the Minister, as he requested this evening. I was only concerned for the continued safety our students, but evidently that isn't an issue."

Dumbledore raised one eyebrow as the latest in a long string of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers left the office. He turned to the Heads of Houses, all of whom looked taken aback at the barely-veiled slur.

"How enlightening…" the Headmaster murmured, drawing a snort from McGonagall.

"Enlightening? I'd say downright insulting, Albus!"

"How dare that woman insinuate we don't care for our students' safety above all else!" Pomona Sprout added, with a scowl that looked most out of place on her usually cheerful face.

"And implying they don't know what they're doing! Did she watch the same demonstration we did? I've never seen students so capable of defending themselves in all my years!" Flitwick exclaimed, nearly bouncing in his seat, his outrage was so strong.

"Perhaps the lack of sleep has befuddled her already feeble mind?" Severus put in, a sneer curling at his lips. While he would never usually be in support of such a… Gryffindor idea as a trio of students fighting demons, he had been forced to acknowledge the skill on display the night previous, as all three seventh years had come away with little more than a few scrapes and bruises apiece. Not one of their… prey, he supposed the accurate term would be, as the three of them had clearly been the hunters, not the hunted, had survived a scuffle, and more than a few had been overheard plotting attacks on the local people.

"Now, now, everyone," Albus rebuked mildly, "I'm sure Delores choice of words was not quite so deliberate."

"Deliberate? Albus, she more or less admitted at the Sorting that she was here to destabilize you, and I'd say insinuating you don't put the students' wellbeing before all else is a sure way to go about it!" Minerva replied acidly, her brogue thickening.

"Well, I for one will rest happily in my bed having seen what those three are capable of," Filius squeaked, "why, I doubt Hogwarts has ever been safer!"

Watcher's Council Headquarters, London, dinner time.

"Should have known you'd never really leave the library, Moony."

Remus' head shot up from his pile of books, and looked wildly around for a minute, before his eyes settled on his old friend leaning in the doorway. Sirius raised an eyebrow, smirked and continued:

"Nice nap?"

"I wasn't napping, I was… working," Moony trailed off rather lamely, realising with a start that the sky was considerably darker than he thought it should be. It wasn't even lunchtime, was it?

"So you skipped lunch then willingly then?" Sirius countered.

"No, I… I must have lost track of time," Remus answered, as his stomach betrayed him by gurgling loudly.

"Come on, old wolf, it's dinner time," his friend said, flashing a lopsided grin. "The full moon is in a few days, you need your strength."

"You're right," Remus sighed, glancing out of the window again. The moon was nearly full, and he could feel the wolf in him stirring restlessly. He shook his head as he stood, stretching stiff muscles as he did. That's what I get for falling asleep on a book, he reprimanded himself. His friend smirked, hearing a joint crack.

"I have to admit, I thought you realised back in Hogwarts that books didn't make good pillows…"

"That was because you and James charmed the pages to stick to my face," Remus countered.

"How else were we supposed to remind you to stop before you fell asleep in the common room?" Sirius argued, grinning.

"By telling me the time?" he replied blandly, raising an eyebrow.

"You've never listened to me," the dog Animagus mock-pouted. "Even when I'm right."

"Ah, but when are you ever right?" Remus teased good-naturedly.

"I'm right about you and my cousin."

"I've told you my reasons, Sirius," the werewolf sighed, before a hint of amusement touched his suddenly tired features, "besides, you can lecture me about my relationships, or lack thereof, when you've spoken with Buffy."

Sirius stilled momentarily, glancing at his old friend before replying somewhat stiffly: "What do you mean, spoken to her? We've spoken lots of times."

"Not about what you should talk to her about," Remus answered pointedly.

"Not about what you should talk to who about?"

Both men started guiltily, and then relaxed slightly seeing Xander at the end of the corridor. The younger man grinned, and continued:

"Will sent me, apparently if you take much longer she's going to take the warming charm of your food. But yeah, who do you need to talk to about something you haven't talked to them about?"

Sirius took a minute to unravel the question, and then replied as smoothly as he could, "Moony thinks I need to apologise to Molly. I lost my temper with her in a meeting, over Harry. Told her he wasn't her son, so she couldn't make decisions for him. He's probably right."

"Ouch, yeah, apologizing is probably the way to go. I mean, I've only met her once or twice, but well, the phrase never get between a mama bear and her cubs comes to mind. And while he may not be hers, the kid has a way of making people want to look after him. It's like Dawnie, they've both got the whole 'protect-me' vibe going on. She'd hate me for saying it, but it's totally true."

Remus was momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly.

"See, Padfoot? Molly only wants the best for him, and while he isn't her son, the Weasleys have treated him as one of their own. I'm not saying that she has the right to make his decisions, that's for you and Buffy to do, but at least acknowledge that Molly has a place in Harry's life."

"Alright, Moony. I'll catch her next time I'm at Grimmauld Place," Sirius agreed, shooting his friend a grateful look for playing along.

"And you should hurry up and ask Buffy out already. The sappy staring is getting ridiculous. Next thing you'll be brooding, and brooding is never of the good. Anyway, food awaits!"

Xander turned and headed towards the dining room, chuckling to himself. Remus looked at Sirius's completely gobsmacked expression before descending into laughter, and following the lead strategist.

Slytherin Common Room, after dinner.

"Hey, Aurelius, where do you disappear to all the time?"

Connor looked up from his essay, and raised an eyebrow at his fellow seventh years. The speaker, Adrian Pucey, didn't seem to take note of the half-amused look on Connor's face, and barreled on.

"Got a girlfriend, eh? Maybe that new Gryff – the Potter girl. Shame she's a blood traitor, or I'd have had a go myself."

The Destroyer's face darkened, his expression becoming one that would have been recognized throughout Quor'toth. He forced the blank, unconcerned mask back into place, before answering in a voice tight with barely controlled anger.

"Dawn is not my girlfriend. She is, however, an old friend of the family and of mine. As for you 'having a go', as you so crudely put it, by all means, attempt it. I could use a laugh."

"What do you mean, you could use a laugh?" the Slytherin prefect replied.

"Just that I'd find it amusing to see what she'd do to you. I don't know what kind of little girly pushovers you have here, but she can more than take care of herself," Connor smirked, eyes resting momentarily on some of the more delicate Slytherin girls. Honestly, he was surprised any of them managed to get dressed in the morning, the way they whined and pouted if they so much had to carry their own books from the library. Pathetic.

Pucey gulped noticeably at the almost frightening grin on Connor's face, but pushed on regardless:

"Pureblood women aren't meant to look after themselves. They just need to make good wives and mothers, and maybe Potter needs someone to remind of that. I mean, maybe it's different in your family, or coven if the Prophet's telling the truth, but I wouldn't mind teaching little Miss Potter her proper role in the world."

"Try do to that, and she'll knock you on your ass faster than you can say Quidditch. Then she'll hex you six ways from Sunday, and I doubt you'll ever manage to reproduce by the time she's done with you. Vicious, that one. Absolutely brilliant to watch, but downright vicious," Connor grinned, "And for your information, a coven is a collection of earth witches who work together. There's no real term for a family of vampires, but call them coven and they won't be pleased. Might even get a little violent, if you catch my drift."

"So you stick to the descendant of vampires story then?" Montague put it, rolling his eyes.

"Look up Aurelius in the library, you moron. That should give you a hint, if the books here are anywhere close to up-to-date. It's not just a pretty name."

With a parting sneer, Connor used every ounce of supernatural grace he possessed to stand fluidly, and stalk out of the room. After a conversation like that he needed to hit something, and as satisfying as breaking some of his housemates into little pieces sounded, it really would make an awful mess.

Gryffindor Common Room, 2am

Harry crawled through the portrait hole, wincing every time his injured hand had to support his weight. He'd survived a week of detentions, but the words carved into his hand had stopped fading and were now oozing blood. He sighed in relief when he stood in the common room, and started up the stairs when he nearly ran into someone.

"Harry? Is that you?" the familiar voice of his youngest Aunt asked, and he looked up to see her frowning at him. He realised with a start that he must have been kept so late that she and her friends had already come back from patrol, as her face was showing a few fresh cuts and bruises, as well a long mark that traveled down her neck under the collar of what looked like a borrowed man's shirt.

"What were you doing in the boy's dorm?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't ask why he was so late.

"Nix was stabbed in the side on patrol, I was patching him up. Luckily none of his roommates woke up, can you imagine the fuss they'd – " she answered, before stopping dead. Her forehead scrunched up, and she sniffed the air, before looking at him in concern, "Harry, are you bleeding? What happened?"

Harry automatically tensed, hiding his hand behind his back and lying, "Slipped, think I must have grazed my knee or something."

"That's too fresh and too strong to be a skinned knee, kiddo. Come on, sit down," she implored, dropping onto one end of a nearby sofa. Harry sat down, and watched in confusion as she called for a house-elf, who promptly appeared, disappeared and reappeared with two bowls. She passed him one, and he saw that it was full of ice cream. He stared dumbly at it for a minute, before she raised an eyebrow and said:

"Eat up, kiddo."

"Weren't you just trying to interrogate me?"

"Harry, me forcing you to talk to me won't going to help, not really. You need to come to me on your own, otherwise you'll never really trust me. So, ice cream," she shrugged. "Whenever you're down, or frustrated, or I notice something's going on, we'll have ice cream. Whether or not you tell me anything is entirely up to you, but at least this way you and I will have some time together and you'll have chance to confide in me, or ask questions of me. Don't think I don't know you worry about us patrolling."

Harry nodded, scooping up a spoonful of ice cream and eating it slowly.

"You aren't going to make me tell you?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Nope. You need someone you can trust, not someone who throws orders at you. I'm not going to try and take over your life, Harry. You know yourself well enough to know your limits, and you're not a baby. You don't need me chasing after you. But you might need someone to listen."

Harry smiled slightly, and settled in to eat his ice cream. Dawn continued eating slowly, knowing that he probably wouldn't open up tonight, or even very soon. But hopefully he'd let her treat his wound, or even just accept a first aid kit from her, provided she didn't ask too many questions. And she was more than happy to have random late night ice cream sessions with her nephew.