Dumbledore, Snape and Molly look at me with mixed emotions on their faces: confusion, worry, annoyance...The old wizard must know something of Sunnydale, or he wouldn't have asked me to come, would he?

Despite all his ministrations, there's still a faint thumping at the base of my skull that's making me feel slightly queasy. My hands are trembling slightly and I try to hide them by stuffing them underneath me.

"What's wrong?" Molly asks in an anxious tone, her bright green eyes roaming my face for a sickness. But it's inside...there's nothing anyone can do to cure the fear, the torture...

"The First," I whisper, "it's back."

No one moves. A pensive silence settles like a cloud of dust, slowly choking us as they realise the enormity of the situation.

"What is it?"

Snape asks this, and I can tell that he's not enjoying being left in the dark. It's a new evil that he has absolutely no idea about, and he knows this. Everyone must know, they must have an inkling of the power of absolute evil. I just happened to be the lucky one to encounter it.

I chance a glance at Dumbledore, and see that his wise face is marred with deep lines. For once, he truly looks his age, probably a few centuries, at least. Troubled blue eyes meet mine and I can see the depth in them, the real power that the wizard has, crackling away.

"The First," I murmur, casting my eyes to Snape, still shrouded in dim light, "is pure evil, unadulterated. It will stop at nothing to create chaos and darkness. It's an enemy that you don't wanna mess with."

"How do you know all this?"

Bitterness twists my mouth into a harsh line, and I bite out a sharp laugh that reverberates off the walls, "You sure you wanna know? It ain't a pretty tale."

At that moment, both Remus and Sirius walk into the room, with Hermione in tow. When they see me on the table, their jaws drop and they rush over.

"What happened?"

"Did something attack you? Another boggart?"

"There was a boggart?!"

I hold up my hand. Rapid talking not helping the rock band residing in my brain.

"Stop," I pause, shooting a quick glance at Hermione.

Dumbledore must see my look because he interrupts quietly, "Miss Granger, why don't you help Mr. Weasley in tidying the room for Harry's arrival?"

The look she gives us is so classic-Dawn that I have to bottle my snickers. The narrowed eyebrows, frowning mouth, cheeks flaming with indignation...even the gleam in her eye is suspicious. But while Dawnie would have thrown a tantrum, Hermione merely replied a short, "Yes, sir" before turning to leave.

Once the thick wooden door quietly clicks shut, the tension in the room seems to creep up. Sirius is furtively glaring at Snape, while the other is pointedly ignoring him.

"Remus, Sirius," I start, "just tune in. You'll probably be able to piece everything out in the end."

"As you know, I'm the Slayer, the one in all the world. But the Fates have others lined up, of course. Hundreds of girls around the globe, waiting for me to die, so they can take their place as the Slayer."

"Of course, I did die. Twice, actually," I say nonchalantly. The words keep flowing out of my mouth, a never-ending stream. It's not really registering, like I'm telling someone else's boring biography. To talk of my death like it's an everyday occurrence, it never used to be this simple. I just hope I don't spill everything...

"But you don't need to know my reasons for that," I glimpse quickly at Snape, and he knows that this is the sacrifice that we talked of.

"The First, as I said earlier, is absolute evil. He is what demons, sin, even Voldemort spawns from. The total opposite of the Light, of what I have fought for eight years.

"The first time I encountered it, it was through Harbingers, Bringers of Death. The First always acts through vessels, it is too sheer a power to be in one state of its own. It haunted my," I hesitate slightly, "my friend, driving him near insane by taking on the form of people from his past, taunting him."

It wasn't haunting.

It was showing me.

What I am.

I wish that I wished you dead.

"We managed to defeat it, and life went on as usual," another bitter smile, "well, as usual as life can be in Sunnydale. It wasn't until a few months ago that it returned."

"The First was killing off Potentials - Slayers, that is," I add quickly, seeing confusion starting to mask everyone's faces, "And this isn't making any sense, is it?"

Remus and Sirius shake their heads. Molly seems puzzled, but doesn't say anything. Snape's face is his usual cold mask, but Dumbledore seems to be pondering over something.

"Keep going, my dear," he says kindly, but there are a lot of wheels turning rapidly in his head.

"Well, no one really needs to know the story of the Potentials, but as usual, there's always betrayal, suffering and the never-ending loss against a big bad," I sigh, "we tried, and my friends came out okay, but some didn't."

Memories...God, I know they'll never leave. But I don't want to remember Anya this way, imagining her being killed Bringer. I want to picture her smiles, her crude remarks, her innocence in this world despite her age. The Potentials... Annabelle, Cassie...And Spike...oh God, Spike...

I love you.

No you don't.

But thanks for saying it.

Shaking my head slightly, I continue, "The First's vessel this time was Caleb, a former priest gone wrong. He merged with The First, and his power was incredible. And that's not even mentioning the Turok-Han..."

"I lost," I stop, breaths coming out more ragged than I realise, "I lost too much against it, and now it's back. I had to destroy everything, and now it's back."

Finally, it's done. The pain of the past few months comes washing over me, rolling and rolling, and spinning me around until I think I can't breathe, or think, or live. The quiet in the room is deafening, and I idly wonder how many more times I'll be lying here on the kitchen table.

By the time I leave this world, it'll be my best friend. Next to Mr. Pointy, of course.

"But you're here," Sirius mumbles, a deep shadow on his face like nothing I have seen on him before, "you survived the evil."

I nod slowly, "Yeah, I'm here. But I would have sacrificed again for them. To keep them here, to enjoy the freedom they were so close to tasting."

"But it's never enough, is it?" I ask, looking at both Snape and Sirius. Their black eyes meet mine and they are heavy and dark with suffering, "Not even your life can bring them back from the dead."

The moment is loudly interrupted when Tonks, the silver-haired man with the creepy spinning eye, another man I remembered as Shacklebolt, and five other people file into the kitchen. The room seems tinier than usual.

"All ready, sir," Tonks chirps brightly, and her now violet-shade hair contrasts dimly with the burning embers from the fire.

"Good, Nymphadora," Dumbledore replies quietly.

Nymphadora? I look at Tonks, and catch her give a small shudder of revulsion at the name. I giggle silently, understanding completely. I can never imagine myself as an 'Elizabeth', except to my mother.

"What's going on?" I ask curiously. The group that trudged in is cloaked darkly, as if on a mission.

"Operation: Rescue Harry Potter," Tonks grins cheekily, "We're the Advance Guard. Want to come?"

I look at Dumbledore, all thoughts of the headache and The First gone for the moment. I hope there's gonna be some good ass-kicking on this trip. God knows I need it.

He chuckles lightly, but I hear an undertone in it. He's very worried about The First; he should be.

"Yes, join the Advance Guard, Miss Summers. It will give you a perfect opportunity to finally meet Mr. Potter."

Tonks has a bright grin on her face, and it's absolutely infectious.