Chapter 14

Harry was nervous as he and Dawn sat on the sofa in Buffy's personal quarters, waiting for her to put her weapons away and clean some of the muck and gore off of herself. It wasn't long before Buffy came out of the bathroom dressed in black sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking a little cleaner than she had before.

"Do you guys want anything?" Buffy asked. "I could probably get the house elves to bring up something for you as when I ask for my snack."

"No, thank you, Miss Summers," Harry said quickly.

"You might as well call me Buffy," Buffy said with a shrug as she grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. She scribbles something on it, threw some floo powder into the grate and tossed the piece of paper into the fire before she sat down on a chair across from the teenagers seated in front of her. "So. Voldie dreamage. What's the scoop?"

"Well, I had a dream," Harry began. "About him. It was really, really clear. He'd gotten news about Hogwarts, probably whatever had gone on at the feast. He seemed happy when he read the names of the new staff members, but I can't figure out why. I think he might be happy that Umbridge is around – she seems like his type."

"Well, did you see the letter, or did you just get an impression of what was on it?" Buffy asked, growing a little concerned. She really hoped she wasn't going to have to bug Dumbledore at this hour, but it was looking like she would have to.

"I saw flashes of it," Harry replied, concentrating. "It's starting to fade, though, quickly."

"Here, write what you saw down," Buffy said, grabbing a pen and a pad of paper. "And I'm going to go and talk to Dumbledore. I just hope he's still up."

"Do we really have to get him involved?" Harry asked, taking the proffered pen and paper.

"I don't know, which is why I'm going to go and talk to him. I'll be back in a jiffy," Buffy said, getting up and heading out of her office. She prayed to God, Merlin and whoever else might be listening that she wasn't going to be waking the old man up.

Buffy skidded to a halt in front of the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office, hurriedly giving them the password before running up the stairs, reaching the top in record time. She knocked on the door and hopped from one foot to the other, waiting for Dumbledore to open the door. When he did, Buffy was relieved to see that he was still dressed. At least, Buffy was pretty sure he was still dressed. It was a little hard to tell, with the old man wearing robes all of the time.

"Miss Summers, what a pleasant surprise," Dumbledore greeted, a twinkle in his eye. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We need to talk," Buffy said. "Now."

"Come inside," Dumbledore replied, standing aside. The seriousness in the slayer's tone worried him. He hoped it wasn't anything too dire. He crossed the room and started puttering with the silver tea service sitting on a little end table. "Tea?"

"No thank you," Buffy replied. She sat down in one of the chairs, vaguely aware of the fact that it was almost the same set as the ones that had been there when Dippet had been headmaster.

"What can I do for you that couldn't have waited until morning?" Dumbledore asked, sitting down as a spoon stirred his tea all on its own.

"Sorry about that," Buffy said sheepishly. "But Dawn and Harry came to me just now, telling me that Harry had a dream. About Voldemort."

"And?" Dumbledore asked.

"He said that Voldemort had gotten a report about what's going on at Hogwarts," Buffy replied. "About the new teachers and staff members. My name was on there. Harry said that he seemed happy about one of the teachers on there. Harry seemed to think he was happy about Umbridge, but I honestly doubt it. I mean, Buffy Summers isn't that common of a name."

"This is most perplexing," Dumbledore said, looking thoughtful. "Have you told him anything about your past with Tom Riddle?"

"Just the version of events you told me to tell," Buffy replied. "The fact that I went to school with him and that he stalked me."

"Do you know if there was a description of the professors in the letter?" Dumbledore asked.

"Harry didn't say," Buffy replied. "I don't think there was. Harry's a smart boy, Professor Dumbledore. He's going to figure it out eventually. With Hermione around, it might be even faster – she'd know what sections of the library to look in when it came to looking up school records like photo albums and yearbooks. I kind of don't want him to find out on his own and believe we were lying to him."

"Are you prepared to deal with the consequences of the information you share with him?" Dumbledore asked. "It may take a while to gain his trust back."

"Then I'll work to gain his trust back," Buffy said with a nod. "I'd rather have everything out in the open and have to work at getting him to trust me again, rather than have him trust me on half truths."

"If that is what you feel you must do, I will not be the one to stop you," Dumbledore said.

"Do you want to come down and talk to Harry?" Buffy asked.

"I cannot," Dumbledore replied.

"Why not?" Buffy asked.

"Because of Harry's connection with Voldemort," Dumbledore replied. "Voldemort is an experienced Legilimens, and if he were ever to find out about Harry's connection to him, he would be able to see into my mind."

"And mine, and Dawn's, and anyone else in the school," Buffy retorted with a snort. "Are you suggesting that we all stop looking Harry in the eye? Because that's going to look mighty suspicious."

"No," Dumbledore replied. "As long as Voldemort is unaware of his connection with Harry, we still have time."

"Okay," Buffy said. "I'm going to go now, see Harry and Dawn. And hopefully not have to clean up trashed rooms."

"Then I shall not stop you from doing what you think is right," Dumbledore said with a long sigh. He finished off his tea before he stood, taking a silver box from the mantle before he presented it to Buffy. "I think this may be a faster route back to your office."

XOXOXO

"What does Buffy need to speak to Dumbledore alone about?" Harry muttered to himself. "It's my dream, shouldn't I be involved in this?"

"I don't know Harry," Dawn replied, chewing on her bottom lip. Knowing the full, or almost full, history of the Buffy Summers and Tom Riddle saga, she knew exactly why Buffy was talking to Dumbledore. "How long have you had a connection with You Know Who?"

"I've probably known for years, ever since he shared a body with my first year Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Harry replied. "I thought it was Snape at first, making my scar hurt."

"That's tall, dark and greasy, right?" Dawn asked. Harry snorted and nodded. "He looks the part. But then again, so did Angel, but he was a good guy until he lost his soul. And Glory looked kind of nice, but she ended up being a hellgod who wanted to use my blood to open a portal back to her home world."

"Right, you mentioned that. How does that work again?" Harry asked.

"My blood is kind of like an interdimensional lock pick," Dawn replied with a shrug. "Make me bleed, say some funny words, poof, portal. At least, it was like that. I dunno if it still works but I'm really not that keen on finding out."

"I see," Harry said carefully. Dawn wondered if Harry was going to ask her some questions about it, but didn't have any kind of time to really dwell on it because they were distracted by the fire turning green. A Buffy-sized person came tumbling out, jumping to her feet soon after as she brushed the soot from her clothes.

"Buffy, are you okay?" Dawn asked, getting up to help her sister to her feet.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Buffy replied, brushing herself off. "Dammit, I'm going to have to change again. Hope the house elves like doing laundry."

"They really do love taking care of the school," Harry said. "Have you figured out what might have been going on in my dream?"

"I think I know why Voldieshorts was happy when he read that letter," Buffy said, her voice careful. "In fact, I do know why. Remember when I told you, over the summer, that I was in school at the same time as Voldemort?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "You said he used to stalk you."

"Yeah, that's how it started," Buffy replied. "Slughorn also made him my Potions tutor, because I needed the help and Riddle was the best there was."

"What does this have to do with him being happy you're here," Harry asked warily.

"Let me go and get something," Buffy replied, getting up. "I'll be right back."

They all watched as Buffy left, heading for her bedroom. She emerged a few moments later, a large, leather-bound photo album in her hands. She squished in between Dawn and Harry and flipped open to a page near the middle.

"Before I show you this, you need to understand that evil people don't start out evil," Buffy said handing over the album. "Evil sets in over time. He wasn't entirely evil when I met him, to the point where he could have been reformed, maybe. We'll never know, now. He was... changed, I guess, by the time I left. And then Malfoy had to go and screw it all up."

It was a picture that had been taken at the Slug Club New Year's bash, the one she had attended with Tom. Someone had gotten a shot just as Tom had pulled her into his lap for the midnight kiss. It replayed over and over; Buffy could see the reflection in Harry's glasses.

"So, you were involved with Voldemort," Harry said, his voice quiet as he closed the book.

"I was involved with a boy named Tom Riddle, who eventually became Voldemort," Buffy said.

"You lied to me," Harry said.

"No, I told you that I was involved with Tom Riddle," Buffy said calmly. "I downplayed the extent of my involvement with him, but I never denied knowing Tom before he became Voldemort."

"No," Harry said. "He was calling himself Lord Voldemort in his fifth year, after he killed Myrtle. Did you know that he killed a girl with his great dirty Basilisk?"

"I know that now," Buffy replied. "I know a lot of things about him that I wished I had known when I met him."

"So you were weak," Harry said, his voice even and calm, restrained, as he stood.

"I had no friends, no family," Buffy said. "I was alone and I was clinging to any friendly face that turned my way. If you had met someone else, besides Ron, on your first day, don't you think you would have had a different school experience?"

"That may be so, but you still lied to me, the Order," Harry said. "I think I need to leave. Think about this."

And with that, Harry left, swinging the invisibility cloak over his shoulders so that he could get back to Gryffindor undetected. Dawn got up and sighed, staring out of the door Harry left through.

"There goes my ride back to Gryffindor," Dawn said with a sigh. She turned to Buffy. "Will you walk me back? I don't think anyone is going to believe the excuse that I was getting a glass of water."

"Sure," Buffy replied, getting up. "I'm too antsy to sleep now, anyway."

XOXOXO

Dawn woke up the next morning feeling exhausted, having not slept well after returning to Gryffindor tower. She dressed in her uniform quickly, smiling a little at the red and gold lion crest on her robes before she headed down to breakfast. Hermione was already gone, and Lavender and Parvati were still giggling away in the bathroom. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she heard the tail end of Harry blowing up at Hermione.

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry asked loudly.

"No," said Hermione calmly. "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your side."

Dawn didn't want to interrupt, but they were right in the middle of the direct path to the portrait hole. After what had happened earlier that morning, Dawn wasn't entirely sure how Harry would react if he saw her. Judging by how he'd nearly bitten Hermione's head off, Dawn had a feeling she'd get glared to death.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Dawn hitched her bag up on her shoulder and emerged from the girl's staircase, breezing past the three fifth years who had been the friendliest out of everyone at headquarters. Harry studiously ignored her as she walked by, and Dawn tried to ignore the curious expressions from Ron and Hermione as she reached the portrait hole, exiting and following the masses of students that were heading down to the Great Hall. As soon as she reached it, she realized that she would have to sit alone – anyone she knew either wasn't there or was sitting with someone else and Dawn didn't want to intrude. Finding a spot a few seats down from the last group from the end, Dawn sat down and began dishing up her breakfast. She didn't get far when Neville plopped down next to her, and a black boy sat across from her.

"I would have thought you'd be sitting with Harry," he said by way of greeting.

"Yeah, Harry and I aren't talking right now," Dawn replied with a shrug. "Well, more specifically, he's not talking to my sister, and he's not too happy with me, either, because I was an accessory to the secret she was keeping."

"He'll come to his senses eventually," Neville said.

"Sister?" the boy sitting across from her asked. "Who's your sister?"

"The new guidance counsellor," Dawn replied. She stuck her hand out across the table. "I haven't met you yet. Hi, I'm Dawn Summers, the newest Gryffindor fifth year."

"Dean Thomas," the boy, Dean, introduced himself, shaking Dawns' hand. "So, you're American?"

"Yep," Dawn replied. She narrowed her eyes. "Got a problem with that? 'Cause if you're going to start treating me like some hick who just fell off the turnip truck, you can leave. Now."

"No," Dean replied, holding his hands up in surrender. "No need to get defensive."

"Sorry," Dawn said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "It's been a rough night."

"Everything all right?" Neville asked.

"Not really, but it will be," Dawn replied with a shrug. "Eventually."

"So, where are you from?" Dean asked.

"Originally Los Angeles, but we moved to Sunnydale when I was about ten," Dawn replied. "We lived there until it sank into a crater back in May."

"How does an entire town sink into a crater?" Dean asked.

"A combination of unstable cave systems and a huge earthquake," Dawn replied. "Oh, and big bad evil trying to open the hellmouth."

"Hellmouth?" Dean asked.

"It's an opening to hell," Dawn replied with a shrug.

"I understand the concept," Dean said. "I just didn't think something like that would exist."

"You go to a school where you learn magic," Dawn said, staring at him. "You wave a wand, say funny words, and things happen. You know that goblins, vampires, werewolves and all other nature of beastie exists. Why is it so difficult for you to think a hellmouth exists?"

"Well, if you put it that way," Dean said sullenly. "Is that what the defence club is all about?"

"I'm not really sure what Buffy's going to be covering," Dawn said with a shrug. "Might be a good idea to sign up and see."

"Already did," Neville replied proudly. "We weren't the first, though. There were a few people on the list when we got there. Looks like there's some interest."

"That's good," Dawn said. "Buffy was worried that no one would be interested."

"After seeing what we've got for an actual Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, she's going to have to find the biggest classroom in the school," Neville said as Professor McGonagall came along the table, handing out schedules before moving on to the next set of students. Dawn was about to look at hers when she heard Ron, about a quarter way down the table, let out an anguished groan and start complaining.

That didn't bode well for Dawn's first day.

"History of Magic, Potions, Divination and Defence Against the Dark Arts," Neville read off. He looked at Dawn sympathetically. "I really hope after today you're not going to decide to go home. Our schedule today is just rotten."

"I've lived on a hellmouth," Dawn replied. "How bad could this be?"

XOXOXO

Buffy had been distracted all morning. After her encounter with Harry in the wee hours of the morning, she was worried that he would go telling everyone and their mother that she had been involved with one Mr. Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, wannabe world dictator extraordinaire. No one had tried to break down her door yet, but the day was still young.

There had been no activity in her office that day until around lunchtime. Buffy had just put in her order for lunch with the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. Crossing the room, Buffy opened the door and was presented with a delicate looking blonde girl, with large blue eyes, dressed in the Ravenclaw uniform.

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?" she asked, a touch nervously.

"Come on in, Luna," Buffy said, waving in the fifth year. After what Dawn had told her the previous day, Buffy had thought it would be a good idea to get Luna in as soon as possible, sending a note to her as soon as Dawn had left, asking her to come on up during the next day. "Take a seat on the couch. Did you bring any lunch with you?"

"N-no," Luna replied, stammering a little.

"Just as well I ordered enough to feed an army," Buffy replied, sitting across from Luna in what she had quickly dubbed as her chair. She regarded the Ravenclaw sitting in front of her, fidgeting slightly, and Buffy felt a little bad. She hadn't meant to make the other girl nervous, and she wanted to make sure she felt as comfortable as possible. "Don't look so nervous, Luna. Can I call you Luna, or would you prefer Miss Lovegood?"

"Luna's fine, Miss Summers," Luna replied, still fidgeting.

"Okay, Luna. As I said, you're not in trouble," Buffy said. "It's just that someone came to me, saying that you said something rather odd and concerning."

"I say things that people think are odd and strange all the time," Luna replied, turning her wide eyes on to Buffy. "I can assure you, I'm not crazy. My father had me tested. Which incident was it?"

"On the train," Buffy replied. "My sister came to me and said you said she "glowed green". We've had a bit of trouble in the past about that, and I just want to make sure we have no issues."

"I see things that a lot of others don't," Luna replied. "Whether they are unable or just refuse to see it, I don't know."

"Does everyone... glow?" Buffy asked, trying to see if Dawn had been an isolated incident.

"Oh, yes," Luna replied happily. "I have to concentrate to see most people's glow, but Dawn's was so bright I was surprised that no one else could see it. Either that, or they just didn't want to see it."

"Uh... huh," Buffy said, trying to figure out what she was going to say to Dumbledore.

"I'm not crazy," Luna insisted again. "My father had me tested."

"I know you're not," Buffy replied. "Unique, yes. Crazy, no. Do you know what Dawn's green glow means?"

"No," Luna replied after thinking for a moment. "Only that it's extremely bright. I was dazzled by it, it was so pretty."

"All right then," Buffy said as a house elf came through the fire and laid out a tray of sandwiches. After a little bow, it hopped through the fire, heading back to the kitchen. "Would you like a sandwich?"

"Yes, please," Luna replied. She grabbed one and started eating it, and Buffy took the time to study the girl in front of her. She was definitely an odd duck, wearing a butterbeer cork necklace and turnip earrings. Her wand was tucked behind her ear like some muggles tucked pens and pencils behind their ears. The thought made her smile, reminding her of something Quentin had said so long ago.

"What are you smiling about?" Luna asked.

"The way you keep your wand reminded me of something my best friend said about wand storage," Buffy said.

"What was that?" Luna asked.

"Don't store your wand in your back pocket or you might lose a buttcheek," Buffy replied. Luna giggled, snorting a little.

"Your friend was wise," Luna said with a sage nod.

"Yeah, he was," Buffy replied with a sad sigh. She shook her head and changed the subject. "So, are you gonna join my defence club?"

XOXOXO

By the time lunch had rolled around, Dawn realized that she had misspoke that morning. Within ten minutes of entering History of Magic, she had fallen asleep, snoring rather loudly when Neville nudged her awake. Professor Binns didn't seem to notice, but Harry had smiled at her, amused. That had to count for something, at least.

Potions had been hell – the potion they had been set was a difficult one, not something Dawn would have wanted for her first potion. The steam coming off of her cauldron was more of a grey than a silver, which was better than some. Definitely better than Harry's, and Dawn smiled sympathetically at him after Snape had all but reamed him out for missing a few steps. He had just nodded in return, garnering more curious glances from Ron and Hermione.

"Okay, I take it back, it can be that bad," Dawn groaned as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"It's not over yet, either," Neville said, dishing up some lunch for himself. "Maybe Trelawney won't notice you and you won't have to deal with her predicting your death."

"Meh, I could always use a warning," Dawn replied with a shrug. "I mean, if there's a prophecy out there that says I'm gonna die, I kinda wanna know about it."

"Why?" Neville asked.

"So I can try to find a way around it," Dawn replied. "Duh."

"You can't just find a way around a prophecy," Neville said. "They're... prophecies! Destined to be!"

"Oh, you totally can," Dawn replied. "Case and point – my sister."

"Your sister's special, though," Neville replied. "The rest of us mere mortals are just pawns in the greater scheme."

"No, seriously, there was a prophecy that said my sister was going to die," Dawn said. "The prophecy got fulfilled, but it didn't say she was going to stay dead. See?"

"She still died, though," Neville said. "Prophecy one, Miss Summers, zero."

"Well, just because prophecies come true, doesn't mean Professor Trelawney is a seer," Dawn said. "Most seers are quacks."

"That, I definitely can agree with," Neville replied. "Although she did have an uncanny ability to know that I was going to break one of her teacups in our first class."

"Maybe she's spying on all of us," Dawn replied. "Getting to know our habits and stuff so that she can better predict what's going to happen? Because that's not being a seer, that's just stalking."

"Has anyone told you that you're paranoid?" Neville asked warily.

"Well, when you're kidnapped on a semi-monthly basis, you tend to be," Dawn replied with a shrug.

"Hey, your sister isn't there," Neville said, glancing up at the head table. "Where could she be?"

"She probably has a meeting or something," Dawn replied with a shrug. She wasn't worried, although she was a little surprised that someone was seeking her out so early. Happy, but surprised. Dawn had gotten the impression that the wizarding world was slow to change and wouldn't accept something this new, this fast.

"Are you nearly finished?" Neville asked. Dawn looked down at her plate and, realizing that she only had a couple of bites left, nodded.

"Why?" she asked, curious.

"Well, it's a bit of a hike to Divination and I'd rather not get a bad seat," Neville replied.

"I've always liked a man with a plan," Dawn said, getting up. Neville followed and together, he led them up to the North Tower, up the winding staircase that made Dawn dizzy, and up the ladder that led to the classroom.

"If you look up my skirt, I'm going to hit you," Dawn said, narrowing her eyes at Neville playfully.

"What kind of bloke do you think I am?" Neville asked, affronted.

"A bloke," Dawn replied with a shrug. Neville still looked offended and Dawn felt bad. "Sorry. I guess I've been spending too much time around people who preach the evils of men."

"Well, not all of us are bad," Neville replied.

"And I know that," Dawn replied. There was a bit of a line up happening at the bottom of the ladder, and Dawn and Neville were blocking the way. "And as fascinating as this is, we should probably get up there. We're holding up the line."

"Yeah. Right," Neville said, before turning and heading up the ladder. Dawn followed suit, praying that no one was looking up her skirt.

The room was nearly empty, Ron and Harry the only ones there besides Neville, when Dawn popped into the room. It was large and circular, and very, very warm. Dawn could feel herself sweating almost immediately, and knew that her hair was going to frizz up like crazy.

"Come on, over here," Neville said, leading her to a table in one of the corners. Dawn glanced at Ron and Harry, who looked like they were arguing about something, before following, sitting down on one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs. That, combined with the temperature of the room and the incense that was burning somewhere, Dawn felt like she was going to fall asleep again.

"Good-day," said Professor Trelawney. Dawn nearly snorted in laughter when Professor Trelawney started speaking, her voice taking on a misty, dreamy quality. She was dressed like one of those gypsy fortune tellers one sees at the fair, with the voice to go with it. Dawn doubted that this woman was an actual seer. If she was, Dawn would do something crazy. She wasn't sure what, but she'd do something.

The rest of the class was rather boring. Dream interpretation. It was one of the things that Tara had been working on with Dawn before she had died. The thought put a small, sad smile on her face.

"What is it?" Neville asked. She was looking at his dream journal when she had started smiling.

"Just remembering that a friend of my sister's was trying to teach me this," Dawn replied.

"Oh, then you must be really good at it," Neville said.

"She died before we could get too far," Dawn replied with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," Neville said. Dawn waved him off.

"It's okay, I've made my peace with it," Dawn replied. "So, let's see what doom and gloom is going to happen to you, eh?"

It wasn't long before the bell rang and it was time for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Dawn nearly giggled when she heard Ron complaining about the amount of homework the had gotten so far. She knew how much they had, she was there, but in reality, it wasn't that much. A page and a half there, a page and a half here. Writing in a journal every morning. Sure, there were other classes and would be other homework, but the essays they'd been set could be done in a night, maybe two, if you were lazy.

"What are you giggling about?" Neville asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Dawn replied, shaking her head slightly. "Come on, one more class to go."

"You're telling me," Neville said. "I'll be very glad when today is over."

It was an uneventful walk to the Defence Against the Dark Arts, if a little crowded. When they reached the classroom, Professor Umbridge was already there and Dawn was really beginning to think she was evil. No one dressed like that and acted that sweet without being completely evil.

It reminded her of the mayor. Evil bastard.

"Well, good afternoon!" Professor Umbridge greeted them after people had settled down. There were a few mumbled 'good afternoons', but most people ignored her, including Dawn. "Tut, tut. That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class parroted back, like drones.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Yep, definitely reminded Dawn of Mayor Wilkins. In her head, she was already planning on thwarting an Ascension. Maybe she could get Buffy on board and they could pull another Graduation Day. Dawn hadn't been there, but she'd heard about it from the Scoobies, both in her fabricated memories and afterwards when she would ask the Scoobies to tell her stories.

Professor Umbridge took out her wand – a short, knobbly one – and tapped the blackboard. Dawn watched as curly, girly cursive appeared on the board.

Defence Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" Professor Umbridge stated. She turned and face the class, her hands clasped in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed the the Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year."

As Umbridge droned on in her sickeningly sweet voice – Dawn was sure she was going to have a cavity once she was finished there – Dawn looked around to see how her classmates were reacting to what was being said. Not well, if the expressions from her classmates, which ranged from boredom to downright outrage, were anything to go by. She was brought back to earth when Umbridge had asked them to copy a few things down. Dawn took out her quill – which was really a cleverly-disguised ballpoint pen that she had found when she and Buffy made a quick foray into muggle London after they had finished getting her school supplies – and started scribbling words down on parchment.

"Miss Summers," Professor Umbridge asked, looking at Dawn in such a way that made Dawn feel like the older woman was trying to see right into her soul. The rest of the class turned and watched what was unfolding. "What is that you're using?"

"A quill," Dawn replied, stamping down the urge to be bratty. The last thing she wanted was to land herself in detention on her first day.

"May I see it, please?" Professor Umbridge asked sweetly. Dawn reluctantly handed the pseudo-quill over, and Umbridge snatched it up quickly, examining it. A sweet smile crossed her features, but it did nothing to put Dawn at ease. "What's the meaning of this, Miss Summers?"

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked.

"This is not a proper quill, Miss Summers," Professor Umbridge replied. "Did you not learn how to use a proper quill at your previous school?"

"We did things a little bit differently in the States," Dawn replied.

"Ah yes, right. Well, I think it's about time you adapted to our way of doing things," Professor Umbridge replied. She turned to Neville, who cowered under her gaze. "What's your name, dear?"

"Neville Longbottom," Neville replied, his voice quiet.

"Mr. Longbottom. Do you have a spare quill and some extra ink that Miss Summers can use?" Professor Umbridge asked.

"Yes, of course," Neville replied, reaching into his bag to get a spare quill and ink pot.

"Good," Professor Umbridge said, smiling at Neville. She turned back to Dawn. "I think I'll be keeping this... interesting quill. You will not be getting it back."

Dawn resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Umbridge's retreating back as she took the quill and ink, whispering a quick 'thank you' to Neville. She uncapped the ink pot and, as she dipped the quill in it, prayed to some higher power that she didn't mess this up. Thankfully, nearly everyone in the room had stopped watching her, letting her figure it out in peace.

"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Professor Umbridge asked after a few more minutes of scratching quills. Dawn remembered the book well. It read like stereo instructions. After a few murmurs of agreement, Professor Umbridge clicked her tongue in disappointment. "I think we'll try that again. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, "Yes, Professor Umbridge" or "No, Professor Umbridge". So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," the class chorused.

"Good," Professor Umbridge said. "I should like you to turn to page five and read "Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". There will be no need to talk."

Dawn wondered how long it would take before someone said something about this. She wouldn't have to wait long, because after only a few moments Hermione had her hand in the air. Dawn carefully watched Professor Umbridge and Hermione, the latter resolute in keeping her hand up and the former ignoring the latter. Soon, other people started watching the scene in front of them unfold. It wasn't until the majority of the class was watching them that Professor Umbridge did something to act.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione.

"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione replied. Dawn had abandoned her book completely, allowing it to stay closed so that she could watch what was going on. This was way more fun than stereo instructions.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, smiling. Dawn noticed that she had sharp, pointy teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of the class."

"Oh, Hermione's going to get it," Neville whispered.

"Harry's probably going to get it first," Dawn whispered back, watching the boy in question. He was watching the interplay between Umbridge and Hermione, but he was looking rather cranky about what was going on.

Dawn knew that this was going to turn out badly.

"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a -"

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge sang. Harry thrust his hand in the air, but Professor Umbridge turned her back to him, but now there were several other hands in the air, including Dawn's.

"What do you think you're doing?" Neville hissed, trying to get Dawn to put her hand down.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Dawn hissed back. "I have something to say."

Neville didn't say anything as Professor Umbridge called on Dean.

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."

"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, the ever-present sweet smile on her face. It was making Dawn want to hit something. "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but -"

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," Professor Umbridge said, talking over whatever Dean had to say, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"The only irresponsible teacher I see here is you," Dawn said.

"Hand, Miss Summers," Professor Umbridge said, turning her beady eyes onto Dawn. She stared back at her defiantly. "And why, pray tell, do you think I'm the irresponsible one?"

"You're supposed to be teaching us how to defend ourselves against the dark arts," Dawn replied. "We might not get attacked here, but once we're out there, in the world, we're sitting ducks. Snacks for some beasties who might think we're all tasty morsels."

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Professor Umbridge asked sweetly.

"I don't imagine anything. I know," Dawn said. "I know what's out there. I've lived in the middle of it. Demons, vampires, dark creatures, hell gods. Lots of vampires like the taste of children, didn't you know?"

"Lord Voldemort," Harry added onto the end.

There were gasps and shrieks around the room; Neville had gone so far as to fall off of his chair. Umbridge, however, just smiled that same sickeningly sweet smile at the two of them, now looking at her in defiance.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Summers, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was dead silent; you could hear a pin drop. Umbridge's voice was quiet as she stood and leaned forward on her desk.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain dark wizard has returned from the dead -"

"He wasn't dead," Harry said angrily. "But yeah, he's returned!"

"As I was saying," Umbridge continued, talking over Harry. "You have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

"It's not a lie!" Harry said. "I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridge without missing a beat. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. As for you, Miss Summers, you are a child. You do not know of what you speak. Demons are unheard of in the wizarding world, and vampires do not attack wizarding children. I do not know what you have been taught, but here you have nothing to fear. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, "Basics for Beginners"."

How dare she. How dare she! Sure, Dawn didn't know a lot of things, but she knew her demonology. And vampire history. She could rattle off how to kill about six different demons off the top of her head, and knew exactly where to look for at least a dozen more.

"I wasn't taught," Dawn said. "I lived it. I lived on a Hellmouth for five years. I watched it sink into the ground. I know dozen demonology books backwards and forwards. I've been kidnapped by a hellgod and had my blood used to open a portal to unleash hell on earth. I have watched my friends die by magical, demonic, and muggle means," Dawn said, her voice quiet. "Do not presume to tell me what I do and do not know."

"Such fanciful stories," Professor Umbridge said with a little laugh. "I think you would do to spend some time in detention with Mr. Potter. Same time, same place."

Dawn resolutely sat down, her eyes narrowed at Umbridge. She almost missed Harry getting up, Hermione pulling on his sleeve to sit back down.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asked.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge replied, her voice cold.

"It was murder," said Harry. Dawn could see him shaking, and she almost expected him to completely explode all over everyone. "Voldemort killed him and you know it."

"Come here, Mr. Potter, dear," her voice soft, sweet and girlish, after she had stared at him for a few moments.

Harry's chair was kicked to the side before he strode to the front of the room. Dawn had to strain her ears to hear what Professor Umbridge was saying as she took a roll of parchment – also pink – and scribbled a note onto it.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," she said, holding out the note. Harry took it and stalked out of the room. Dawn waited a beat before she gathered up her things, also getting ready to leave.

"Where do you think you're going, Miss Summers?" Professor Umbridge.

"With Harry," Dawn replied. "He needs a friend right now."

With that Dawn, grabbed her bag and left, unaware that Umbridge was scribbling another note, this time putting it through the fire.

It didn't take Dawn long to catch up to Harry, who was walking at a pretty fast clip down the hallway.

"Harry, wait!" Dawn exclaimed. Harry turned, his eyes narrowed when he saw who was calling his name.

"What do you want?" Harry asked.

"Look, you can be mad at my sister all you want," Dawn said. "But I didn't do anything, so back off."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Harry said. Dawn blinked at him. "What?"

"Well, that's a huge speech about your stupidity gone to waste," Dawn replied. "Oh well."

"Still what are you doing out here?" Harry asked.

"I walked out," Dawn replied. It was Harry's turn to stare. "What? She questioned my knowledge about the supernatural, she questioned your knowledge about the dude with no name and I think she might be evil. Like, turn into a giant snake demon evil."

"Giant snake demon?" Harry asked. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," Dawn replied. They turned a corner and ran right into Peeves the poltergeist, juggling inkwells.

"Why, it's Potty Wee Potter!" the poltergeist cackled, letting a couple of the inkwells to crash to the floor. Harry had been able to jump out of the way fast enough, but Dawn's shoes and tights had gotten splattered.

"Oh, it's on," Dawn said, narrowing her eyes at him. "It's on like the break of dawn."

"Get out of it, Peeves," said Harry, the expression Dawn was quickly referring to as his "annoyed face" in her head firmly in place. He grabbed Dawn by the wrist and started dragging her down the hallway.

"Ooh, crackpot's getting cranky," said Peeves, following them. "What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking -" he blew a loud raspberry "- tongues?"

"You're Peeves, right?" Dawn asked.

"Who wants to know?" Peeves asked, turning his attention to Dawn.

"Well, you know, my sister might be upset if she finds out you've been terrorizing her baby sister," Dawn replied. She waved at him. "Hi, I'm Dawn Summers. Buffy's my big sister."

Peeves stared at Dawn for a few moments before he turned and zoomed down the hallway, clattering the picture frames and the suits of armour in his wake. A door to their left opened up and McGonagall emerged from her office, looking rather grim.

"Miss Summers, Mr. Potter," she said, her expression unreadable. "I've been expecting you."

XOXOXO

So, chapter 14. Yaaaaay. I really wanted to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts class in here, and I'm so glad I did. And hey, super long chapter for your reading pleasure. Kind of awesome, huh? Hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.