The Prophecy of The Four

by Morena Evensong

A prophecy is found. Two worlds, ignorant of each other, begin to overlap. A country, a world, is in crisis. Perhaps the Wizarding world shouldn't have underestimated Muggles. BSTV, ATS and HP Xover. AU for Deathly Hallows.

21. Chapter 20

I apologize how long this took to write. Or rather, how long it took me to start writing it, because there were parts of this chapter that practically seemed to write themselves. That first bit? Nearly 6,000 words and it got written within the span of two days (and I managed to get housework done in the middle of that too!). Of course, not all of this chapter worked like that, but that part did and I'm especially proud of it.

Many thanks to everyone, who reviewed the last chapter and special thanks to Biblios, for betaing.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable. That includes the quotes I've borrowed from the Harry Potter books, both of which are highlighted and should be rather obvious.

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Prophecy of the Four

Chapter 20 – Making Connections

The night sky was beginning to lose its intensity; the stars were just a little dimmer, the blackness a little grayer. From her solid month of star-gazing, Professor Trelwany knew this meant she had no more than another hour or so left. She took a last sip of her tea – a special blend from Africa designed to stimulate the inner eye and promote visions – then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She placed the empty cup onto the ground and opened her eyes before moving to the far edge of the astronomy tower's observation terrace.

It was something very intriguing she'd discovered during her long nights of staring at the night sky. This, right now, that last hour before dawn, when the night sky slowly moved from night to true twilight, this was when the most fascinating changes occurred in the sky. The damn horse wasn't usually worth listening to, but today his words had made her think about these changes she'd never paid proper attention to. Or, rather, she'd never quite paid enough attention to the clouds.

But tonight she would. Tonight she would watch the stars and clouds like a hawk. A nocturnal hawk.

She knew full well that no one believed her; they all thought her half-mad and powerless. The wizarding world had stopped giving credence to divinations and the power of prophecies. Yet as surely as she knew they all laughed at her, she knew they were wrong, could feel the power laying dormant within her bones, waiting to burst forth and prove her right. Just as she knew the stars had something to tell her, if only she could figure out the proper way to listen to them.

And so she gazed out at the sky, watched the warnings of an approaching destroyer and always kept a keen eye on the cluster of stars representing the queen. Then it happened. A cloud shifted, moving to another part of the sky, obscuring a message of on-coming doom and the professor gasped. There it was! A new cluster of stars appeared for a small moment, until a smaller, thinner cloud once again dimmed their presence. However, that short glimpse had been enough for her. The innocuous cluster of stars wasn't malicious, but the contrary, it was friendly, hopeful.

Whoever this destroyer was, they weren't an enemy, but an ally! Professor Trelwany smiled widely, hope lifting her spirit like even the most powerful cheering charm could not. Then perhaps, the doom the stars spoke of wasn't certain either.

She turned her attention back to the message of the queen, a new determination shining within her soul, sharpening her tired eyes. As though the sky itself had heard her, a cloud she hadn't even noticed before suddenly sailed by, covering part of the message, but uncovering several stars nearby. They were bright and a bit away from the queen, yet obviously surrounding her. Like a court. So, the queen wasn't alone, she had a court - she was a leader.

Professor Trelwany gripped the edge of the stone ledge tightly, forcing herself to calm down, before the excitement she was feeling affected her concentration.

She continued to stare, cataloging every change to the night sky no matter how small. Now, more than ever before, she was convinced the answer was right in front of her, just waiting for her to see it. Slowly, ever so slowly, the night sky lightened. And then the most peculiar thing happened. As the stars were fading away into the grey of the beginnings of twilight, one star began to shine brighter. The divinations professor stared at it in confusion, wondering what it meant.

An image of a pretty, dark-haired girl, flashed before her eyes and then a light wind blew into her face. She brought her hand up to wave away stray locks from her eyes and then a second bright light caught her attention. Trelwany turned away from the stars.

The crystal ball she'd brought with her on a last-minute impulse was glowing.

The twilight sky all but forgotten, the professor moved to kneel before it on shaking legs. Something important was happening. Finally. Taking a deep breath, she placed both hands onto either side of the crystal ball and peered into its depths. She was so absorbed in the mists within that she didn't notice how the light spread up her arms and encompassed her whole body.

---

She ran after it through the graveyard, easily leaping over gravestones as she ran. She wasn't even sure what it was she was chasing, but Buffy knew she had to catch it. Her slayer senses told her it was there and every once in a while she would get a glimpse of it, but, damn, it was fast! She gripped the sword in her hand tighter, pausing for a single breath.

There was movement to the right and Buffy was off again. She passed by a familiar grave and realized they were heading towards Spike's crypt. Maybe he'd be home and willing to help her corner this thing. Because this was seriously getting a bit ridiculous; she felt like she was running around in circles and nowhere closer to catching this thing.

"Buffy!" a voice called out. Buffy stopped in her tracks and frowned. That wasn't Spike's voice.

"Buffy!"

"Yeah?" she called back, turning around to face the voice.

A warm wind blew into her face and Buffy sighed happily as she looked up at the beautiful blue sky. The day was gorgeous, warm with a slight breeze and just a few fluffy clouds that hang in the sky like pretty decorations. She took a step forward and had to adjust her balance when her foot wobbled a bit. Looking down she frowned, trying to remember why she had thought the fuchsia stiletto sandals were a good idea for walking around on cobblestone streets. Well, other than how well they matched the beaded bracelet and necklace she was wearing and looked amazing with her white sun dress.

Deciding she would simply have to walk a bit more carefully than normal, she finally looked up at the person, who'd been calling her earlier.

"Sorry, mom, I was spacing out for a bit there," she said with a smile as she walked up to her mom.

Joyce Summers smiled back indulgently. She was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and a long, green floral sun dress with brown sandals. There was an old man standing next to her that Buffy didn't recognize. He was rather unremarkable, though he had a long, white beard and was wearing purple robes with an assortment of moons and stars twinkling on them. Actually, he looked a bit like Gandalf, if he'd gone mad or perhaps gotten pranked. Buffy suspected the hobbits.

"Italy's a beautiful country, isn't it?" her mom said wistfully. "Such a pity we couldn't all come here together."

"Yeah, and it's such a perfect day for a fair too," said Buffy with a happy smile. "Dawn will be sorry she missed it."

Buffy looked over the small Italian town. White-washed stone houses with terracotta roofs gleamed in the sunlight, each with a dark wooden balcony decorated with flowers, streamers and balloons. Beyond the rooftops on her right, she saw the cross and bell tower of a church – a beautiful gleaming gold atop bright red that made the roofs around it seem almost colourless in comparison.

She recognized it instantly; the Immortal had taken her here the last time they'd had a fair. It looked exactly the same now. People milled about the street talking, laughing and, in some cases, squealing over the folk music playing throughout the town square. While adults milled around; children ran around excitedly from stall to stall, their eyes taking in every toy, sugar stick, marzipan figurine, nougat square and almond candy.

"Oh, I'm sure Dawn's got enough to do right now," her mother's voice broke through the happy rhythm of the fair. Buffy turned back to her mom, who smiled happily back at her. "Well, why don't you run along then, Buffy, Albus and I will be fine on our own and you have a lot you need to see."

Buffy wondered why her mom was being so vague. She shrugged it off. Maybe she had a hot date with some hansom Italian and didn't want her daughter tagging along.

"Okay, I'll meet up with you later then! Ciao!"

And with a wave, she was off into the lively crowd. On her way she picked up a bag of roasted chestnuts and some nougat. Then she simply walked around, weaving through the crowds of people and occasionally meeting the eye of some hansom young man. When she came upon the stall selling scarves she nearly squealed. She remembered this stall!

In a single step, she was there and looking over the beautiful lengths of silk hanging from several lengths of thin nylon rope, which they were attached to with clothespins. She gasped with delight when she saw a single green scarf amongst the rest. Gently, she reached for it, feeling it caress her skin as it opened up and showed her its design – a beautiful pink hummingbird in flight. She was so glad they still had it. She hadn't bought it last time and had regretted it ever since.

"Oh, that's a really pretty scarf," said a familiar voice.

Buffy looked up and smiled.

"Oh my God, Cordelia!" she cried as she embraced her friend. "What a total coincidence! What are you doing here?"

Cordelia chuckled as she returned the embrace. The two parted, smiling warmly at each other. Buffy noticed the slight changes in her old friend; she'd cut her hair, and was wearing a grass green halter top and short jean skirt with matching green sandals and big hoop earrings. She looked more mature than Buffy remembered, but there was something else too. Somehow, Cordelia just looked older, her eyes less innocent, more world-weary and Buffy recognized that look – she saw it in her own mirror often enough.

"Buffy, Buffy, you of all people know that very little that happens in the world is genuine coincidence," Cordelia said with a smile. "Especially around you."

Buffy frowned, suddenly realizing there was something about Cordelia she was supposed to remember. Had Willow mentioned something about her? She'd have to call her when she got home.

"So, are you enjoying the fair?" Cordelia asked, interrupting Buffy's thoughts.

"Oh yeah, I love this one. I've been to it before you know. You should try the nougat, it's to die for."

"Mmm, I love nougat. And you should really go see the fortune teller they've got here. She's really good."

"Fortune teller?" Buffy racked her brain. Had there been a fortune teller here last time? "I don't think I saw her last time..."

"We brought her in specially for this one. She's the real deal."

"I'm not really sure that I want more people telling me about my future. I've kinda gotten a bit tired of being told I'm going to die or everyone else is going to die."

"Maybe this time she'll tell you someone else's future."

Buffy frowned.

"Someone else's future? Is that even allowed? I mean, isn't there some sort of confidentiality clause or something?"

Cordelia shrugged. "Don't think so. I mean, I sure told enough of other people's futures."

"Oh, right, I remember Willow telling me about that. Wait, if you're a seer, then why don't you just tell me the future?"

"Because this is a fair."

Buffy laughed. "Alright, alright, I'll go see the fortune teller, but if she starts telling me the world's going to end I'm splittin' outta there. Hey, you wanna come with? We can go grab some espressos after and catch up."

Cordelia smiled widely.

"Sorry, can't. I've got a big date to get ready for."

"Ooh, anyone I know?"

"No. You might hear of him eventually, but you definitely don't know him now. He's not one of the major players, though he will become one of the most important ones."

"Oh, will I get to meet him then?"

Cordelia's smile dimmed.

"No, I don't think so," she said softly.

"That's sad then," said Buffy lamely, not knowing what to say to the sadness she could see in her friend. "I hope the date goes well anyway," she offered.

"Thanks, me too." Cordelia beamed at Buffy again. "It was good to see you again, but you should probably go now."

"Okay. It was good to see you too."

Buffy walked away. She was glad she'd been able to see her friend again. Then, just as she realized Cordelia hadn't actually told her where to find the fortune teller, she felt something bump against her leg. She looked down. A big, black dog looked back at her. It could've almost looked frightening if not for its ferociously wagging tail and the thick wreath of flowers around its neck in place of a collar. Buffy leaned down an scratched it behind the ear.

"Hey there, boy," she said as the dog panted happily, lolling its head to the side to give her better access. She laughed before straightening again and looking around. "Sorry, but I've got to find a fortune teller. She's supposed to be really good."

The dog barked and ran a couple of steps ahead of her, before looking back at her and then barking again. Buffy cocked her head curiously. Did the dog know where she needed to go? She shrugged.

"Okay, Lassie, lead the way," she said. The dog shot her a confused look and Buffy grinned.

She followed it across the town square and through narrow streets, past brightly-decorated shop windows, bustling pubs and cafes and the smells of fresh coffee, baked goods, flowers and beer. They finally came to a gap between the stalls, where the dog stopped. Buffy came up beside him and saw that the gap was, in fact, the entrance to an alley. It was a narrow alley and not very long, but at the end of it there was a purple flap of fabric and the first thought that entered Buffy's mind was that it was a rather odd place to set up a tent.

She looked down at the dog.

"So that's the fortune teller, is it?" she asked it.

The dog barked and then nudged her leg. Buffy laughed.

"Alright, I get," she said. "Thanks boy!"

The dog barked a farewell, before loping off towards something more interesting. Buffy watched it until it disappeared behind a group of teenagers blowing bubbles and then she turned to the alley. It didn't look foreboding or mysterious and her slayer senses weren't tingling, so Buffy strode up to it without more than a slight hesitation.

"Hello," she called, pushing the flap of fabric aside as she entered the fortune teller's tent.

Inside, the tent smelt of incense and dried herbs. In the centre of the tent was a small table with a black satin cloth draped over it and two large, white candles sitting on either side of a crystal ball on top of it. Strings of beads and feathers hung from the tent's ceiling, which Buffy had to weave through as she made her way to the table. There was a chair, so she sat down.

"Hello?" she called again, looking around the tent to see if the fortune teller was somehow hiding in a dark corner.

"So you are the queen," an airy voice suddenly said and Buffy started. Sitting across from her, on the other side of the table, was a very strange-looking woman. She was exceptionally thin with large, round glasses that Buffy cringed at. Her slight figure almost disappeared within the mass of robes and beads and other jewelry adorning her. She looked like something between a hippie and a gypsy, as though she couldn't decide what kind of fortune teller she would be so decided to just combine everything into one hideous ensemble. She was eying Buffy with open curiosity and astonishment. "You are the one, who will bring change."

Buffy blinked. She went over what the woman had just said.

"Me, a queen?" she said. "I'm not a queen."

"Oh, but you are. The stars say you are."

"Oookaay. So anyway, a friend of mine told me to come here. She said you were good, that you could tell me the future. I mean, you're the fortune teller, right?"

"A fortune teller? No, child, my name is Sybil Trelwany and I am a seer. I teach divinations at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Oh. Well, I guess that would make you the real deal then." Buffy frowned. She was sure she'd heard of Hogwarts from somewhere. Was that where Dawn was going to school? Except she didn't think Hogwarts was in Italy...

Her thoughts were interrupted as the crystal ball suddenly began to glow and Sybil Trelwany froze, her eyes going blank.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

As the woman spoke in a dull monotone, Buffy felt shivers crawl down her spine. Her eyes then caught the sequence of images whirling within the glowing crystal ball. She saw a baby with a scar on its forehead and the parents, who had died protecting it. Most peculiarly, though, she somehow knew it wasn't the future she was seeing, but the past. Then she saw an image of a boy, about eleven or twelve years old, with unfashionable round glasses sitting at a long table and surrounded by other children his own age. He was laughing at something his neighbour, a red-headed boy, said.

"It will happen tonight. The dark lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The dark lord will rise again with his servants aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight before midnight the servant will set out to rejoin his master..."

And then the images changed. Buffy saw a new image of the same boy, a bit older now and looking tired, a little bit desperate and a lot in pain. His arm was bleeding and he was tied to a tombstone. Facing him, stood a dirty, disgusting-looking, rat-like man with one arm that was holding something wrapped in a bundle of dark cloth, his other arm a stump that looked freshly cut off. He stood beside a large cauldron, face contorted in pain as he carefully lowered the bundle into it.

There was no sound coming from the crystal ball, but Buffy could see the boy begin to scream, the scar on his forehead burning a bright, painful red. Orange-red light suddenly washed over his face as the cauldron burst into flames, which flared brightly for a few minutes before dieing out abruptly, leaving a cloud of smoke in their wake. And in the midst of that smoke, something moved. A shadow grew, became taller... stood up and walked out of the smoke.

Buffy stared at the figure. She'd seen more terrifying things in her time (could very easily name a good twenty off the top of her head without thinking too hard, she was sure). He reminded her a bit of the Master with his bald head, red eyes, flat facial features and long fingers – though oddly enough, he looked both more human and less human than the Master. As the man-creature looked himself over and examined his elongated appendages, Buffy suddenly realized what it was that had struck her as so frightening about this man.

Despite his reptilian face, his red eyes and too-skinny fingers, she knew without a doubt this man was still human – his humanity corrupted to the point of nearly being unrecognizable, yet still, at his core, human. Buffy felt repulsed by him in a way very few demons had ever made her feel. Even Caleb, who had literally given his body and soul to the First had felt more human than this man she was seeing in the crystal ball.

The man gestured to his one-armed minion and Buffy's eyes widened as saw him take a wand from his hand. He pointed it at the minion's left forearm, where she could see a tattoo of some sort, and the minion grimaced in pain as it glowed. For a few minutes, nothing happened. And then dark-robed figures wearing dark hoods and white face masks started popping up around them.

Buffy gasped. She recognized those figures. They bowed to the man – no, Buffy suddenly realized – to the Dark Lord Voldemort. And Buffy suddenly remembered she'd heard this story before.

White mist encased the scene.

"The Snake is not the king of beasts, but the Lion cannot win."

Buffy looked up from the crystal ball, startled, but not really surprised, to hear the familiar line come from the seer's mouth.

"That boy," she said after a pause. "He's Harry Potter, isn't he?"

The seer, Sybil Trelly or something she'd said her name was, blinked, her eyes becoming animated once again and her whole body relaxed.

"What was that, dear?" she asked. "I'm sorry, my mind wasn't altogether here for a moment."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting on just how much 'here' her mind seemed to be now.

"The boy, the one with the dark hair, really bad glasses and scar on his forehead, he's Harry Potter, right?"

"Yes, that does sound like Mr. Potter. Poor boy, always ends up with all the worst fortunes..."

"I can relate to that," Buffy muttered.

"What was that dear?"

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"Oh." She paused and Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Was the seer done? Was she supposed to leave now?

"So, did you have anything else to tell me? I mean, the show was informative and all, but it all kinda seemed like the past and aren't you supposed to tell me the future?"

Sybil turned a very solemn pair of eyes at her.

"The future is very serious business," she said, her voice soft. "But I suppose you're the queen, so I can tell you."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever, sure I'll be the queen. The crown better not be anything big and gaudy though, or I abdicate."

"It's all very confusing. I've spent the last month reading the stars and I was very confused indeed. You see, I kept seeing warnings of a destroyer and then a queen. But then the horse mentioned the clouds and so I watched closer, tried to see not what was in front of me, but what they were hiding. And tonight, finally, I have had success! You see, I thought the destroyer was an enemy, but it turns out we were wrong, the destroyer is not a malicious force! And the queen – yes, the queen is the important one! She will come to us with her court and she will bring change. Or else change will follow her, but either way she – "

Here the seer stopped and pointed to Buffy with a ring-covered finger.

"No, you must come, because whatever this change may be, it is necessary. The stars do not say whether this change is good or bad, only that it must happen. For the queen and the destroyer shine brightly in the sky, but catastrophe lingers along its edges."

Buffy nodded.

"I think I understand," she said. "I'll come."

"Thank you," the woman opposite her whispered. Then she blinked. "Oh, my stars, here I am inviting you to Hogwarts like this and I don't even know your name!"

Buffy laughed.

"I'm Buffy," she said. "Dawn's older sister."

She wasn't sure why the woman needed to know this. But, for some reason, it felt like the seer might know Dawn.

"Buffy? What an unusual name. I'll see you this evening then, Buffy."

"See yah!" Buffy stood up to leave. She paused at the tent flap and turned with one last smile. "And, uh, thanks for the fortune and explainy stuff!"

"You're welcome."

Buffy exited the tent and walked into a vast room.

"Wow."

Her stilettos click-clacked on the stone floor as she wandered towards the centre of the room, her eyes riveted to the ceiling. The room's walls were made of large stones – like in a castle – but the ceiling... the ceiling was impossible, because it just wasn't there. Instead, Buffy saw the sky, full of dim stars and the grey colour of twilight, as it was only moments before it was hit with the first bright rays of dawn. Even more spectacular, however, were the rows upon rows of candles hovering in the air and illuminating the room.

It was magical.

Buffy spun around, grinning happily at the sight. She was so used to magic being a tool, something used by her enemies to harm and by her friends to protect. This magic was neither; it's only purpose was to be beautiful. And it certainly served its purpose well.

She finally looked away from the ceiling to scan the rest of the room. She was facing a large set of wooden doors, obviously the entrance. Four large tables surrounded by a multitude of chairs ran along the length of the room, two on either side of her. There was enough seating to accommodate an army.

Or a school.

Buffy suddenly realized the tables looked familiar. They looked like the ones in the image the seer had shown her with the boy, Harry Potter. This was where he went to school!

Something new caught her attention and she looked up. There were two shields hanging proudly on the wall. One was red with a golden lion roaring in the centre of it. The second was golden with a black badger. She looked to the opposite wall. There were two shields there too: one with a silver snake on a green background and another with a bronze eagle on blue.

Buffy cocked her head as she stared at the eagle shield.

"What is-?" The sound of fluttering wings interrupted her and her head snapped automatically to the noise.

Perched on one of the chairs beside her now sat a dignified-looking great horned owl. Buffy blinked at it. The owl blinked back. Eventually, Buffy noticed the pink scroll attached to its leg.

"Um, is that for me?" she asked it.

The owl hooted at her, holding out its leg. Carefully, she approached it and untied the yellow ribbon holding it in place. No sooner had she taken the scroll away, the owl took off. She watched as it sailed through the air, towards a hole in a corner of the wall, just above the grand entrance doors. Then she turned back to the pink scroll in her hand. She easily snapped the wax sealing it and then unraveled it.

Three words were scrawled in bold ink in the middle of the parchment.

Remember the Phoenix.

She looked up and stared at the empty town square around her. The fair was over and everyone had left, leaving a sad, desolate space full of abandoned stalls, thrown-away candy wrappers and torn up streamers. A single, lone blue balloon danced in the wind, forgotten. She turned around...

...and saw she'd finally made it to Spike's crypt. She'd been right, the monster had come this way. She hoped the vampire was home, 'cause this creepy crawly was becoming a real pain in the ass to hunt down. She ran down the stairs and pounded on the door.

"Hey, Spike, you in there?"

No answer. Buffy huffed in annoyance and kicked the door down.

"Spike?" she called as she stepped across the threshold.

And opened her eyes with a loud gasp of breath, her heart beating as though she'd just swam the English Channel.

"Buffy! You're awake!"

"Huh? Wha- yeah?" was the most intelligent response Buffy was able to come up with.

Her eyelids felt heavy, lashes stuck together with remnants of sleep. She yawned widely and used her right hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes, while propping herself up into a sitting position with her left. For some reason her limbs felt stiffer than usual. She stretched and her back popped with a satisfying crack. Throwing the covers aside, she swung her feet over the edge of her bed and looked out the window.

The sky was streaked in a gorgeous pallet of pink and blue hues. It was still early, so why did she feel like she'd slept for a very long time?

"Are you okay?" the same voice from before asked.

Buffy looked to Lori, confused by the worry in the other woman's voice.

"Um, yeah, I think so," she answered slowly, wondering if there was a trick in the question. "A bit sluggish, but otherwise fine."

"Oh thank God. We were so worried... Rupert will want to see you as soon as you're able."

"Woah, back up there! What are you talking about? Why were you worried?"

"You wouldn't wake up! Giles and Willow both tried to rouse you – of course Willow could've tried more powerful spells, but we didn't want her using up too much of her magic on you when there were bigger priorities."

"Wait, are you saying I pulled, like, a Sleeping Beauty or something?"

"Well, if you disregard the distinct lack of Prince Charming in the whole waking up process, then I suppose that would sum it up quite nicely, yes."

"How long have I been asleep for?"

Buffy's throat suddenly tightened as visions of her sleeping for days - no weeks - on end while her sister was still somewhere in Scotland and her friends had to fight the Dark Lord without her... She hadn't slept through the apocalypse, had she?

"Not that long, thankfully." Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. "We only discovered it about, oh, four hours ago or so, when Xander came to wake you up, because you hadn't been answering your cellphone. You didn't seem to be in any pain or distress, so Giles decided we could stand to leave you alone until the other things had been dealt with."

The tightness in her throat eased and Buffy was certainly glad she hadn't slept through anything important. Knowing Dawn was safe only calmed part of the whirling ball of tension inside her, because she was still very much not where Buffy could see her or yell at her or grab hold of her. She was at Hogwarts... at Hogwarts.

That single thought was all it took for a cascade of images to suddenly tumble through Buffy's mind – it was in that instant she remembered her dream. Her mom, Cordelia, the castle with the shields and the seer. And the seer's message: she was the queen and the queen needed to come and bring change. Buffy needed to go to Hogwarts, to where Dawn was, where Harry Potter was.

She looked outside again, trying to decide what the quickest way would be to get to Scotland. Once she got to the general vicinity, she could call Spike and get him to pick her up, which would mean she could arrive at the school sometime in the afternoon, early evening at most.

Buffy frowned, something occurred to her. The sun was only just coming up. She hadn't slept through an entire day, only one night.

"Lori, why were you guys trying to wake me up in the middle of the night anyway?" she asked. "Did something happen?"

Lori sighed, looking slightly annoyed and Buffy wondered if the woman had already told her all about it while she'd been lost in her own thoughts.

"Faith and her team came across a number of demons attacking some civilians and it got ugly." The older woman paused. "Very ugly."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Are they okay?"

"Renata and Vi were both badly wounded, but nothing their slayer healing can't handle in a day or two. Faith, however... well, it's not good. She's in the hospital and – Buffy? Buffy?"

Buffy was out of bed and out the door before Lori had managed to finish her sentence, rushing downstairs to find Giles.

---

Minerva McGonagal looked out her office window. It was a beautiful, sunny day outside and, as was her yearly custom, she found herself wishing she was still at her small cottage. Nothing to worry about except her roses (she didn't have much of a green thumb, but she did love her roses) and strawberry bushes, with only housework, trips to the local market and the occasional de-gnoming to distract her from her sanctuary of books, tea and the occassional glass of elderberry wine.

Minerva made a face. With the war and her own duties for the Order of the Phoenix this year's summer break wasn't nearly as restful as usual, but it had certainly had its moments.

She sighed and was about to turn from the window when a rather peculiar dark shape in the distance caught her attention. She would not have thought much of it, except that it seemed to be moving towards the castle. The deputy headmistress tapped her wand against her temple and whispered an incantation. She had to blink a few times against the sudden dizziness that always accompanied that particular spell, as her eyesight was magically stretched beyond its normal scope.

Momentary dizziness gone, Minerva realized the dark shape didn't look any less peculiar up close and it took a few moments for her to figure out what it was. It was a massive, dark black umbrella, which appeared to bob in mid-air as it made its way down the path towards Hogwarts. It suddenly swerved to the side and she saw caught a glimpse of two figures walking along side it for a moment. Two very familiar figures.

Minerva smirked – with no small amount of relief – and dispelled the charm on her eyesight. Summoning a house elf, she instructed it to go down to the infirmary to inform Mrs. Weasley her son and his friends had just returned. Then she left her office in order to greet her wayward students personally.

---

Harry, Ron and Hermione were all smiles as they barged through the main doors of Hogwarts. Though both physically and emotionally exhausted, their relief at finally being 'home' - and the knowledge they'd been ultimately successful in their mission – managed to overshadow the confusion over their dubious victory.

Connor and Spike were also grinning as they followed behind them, Spike gleefully stroking the folded-up, super think, dark black umbrella that was twice his height and weighed just as much as the small tree Hermione had transfigured it out of. He was very happy he hadn't had to stay in the car until the sun went down. Carefully, he leaned it against the edge of the door.

When he turned to follow the others he was surprised to find they'd stopped. Well, Harry, Ron and Hermione had and Connor looked as though he'd gone a few paces ahead of them and then stopped when he'd realized they had. Spike walked over to them and blinked, following their wide-eyed, horrified gazes.

"It's a cat," the vampire stated, blinking in confusion at the tabby that calmly sat in the middle of the entrance hall, watching them imperiously.

"Actually," said Connor, sniffing the air, "I'm not sure that it is."

"H-Hermione, what day is it?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes not leaving the cat.

"The eighteenth of August," Hermione answered in a horrified whisper.

"And what day were the professors due to arrive back at the school?"

Spike stopped paying attention to the wizard children as the cat began to morph into a human figure. A few moments later, a stern-looking woman stood in place of the feline, staring coldly down at the children.

"Misters Potter and Weasley and Miss Granger, how nice of you to grace us once more with your presence," said the witch (for she could be nothing else, not with the dark robes and tall, pointy hat). "I would be very interested to know where in Alastor Moody and my instructions to you about not leaving the school under any circumstances, the three of you found leave to go gallivanting across the countryside with a vampire."

Spike almost felt a bit sorry for the three students. But mostly he found the whole thing very amusing.

"Professor, I'm sorry, but-" Harry began. The woman cut him off with a glare.

"I suggest the three of you, first of all, go get something to eat from the kitchens, as you are likely quite hungry, and then proceed up to the hospital wing, where Mrs. Weasley is anxiously waiting for you." She paused, seeming to consider something. Spike heard Ron whimper. "Assuming, of course, she isn't already on her way down. The twins' condition isn't exactly life-threatening after all."

"Mum's here?" Ron asked, his cheeks the same shade of pale as when he'd stood face to face with the demon tiger.

The Professor nodded. The redheaded boy gulped. Spike took a quick glance at the others and saw Harry and Hermione looked equally terrified. He then noticed the slight twitch in the corner of the woman's mouth and grinned.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she demanded. "There will be a meeting in a few hours and I dare say you'll rather not be dealing with both Mrs. Weasley and Alastor Moody at the same time."

Spike didn't think their eyes could get any wider, nor their faces any paler.

"Y-yes, professor, we'll see you later then," Hermione finally managed to get out, before the students turned as one and fled from the entrance hall.

"Never realized being a teacher was so much fun," Spike drawled. The professor turned her attention to him and raised an eyebrow. "You are an evil, evil woman and if I 'ad an hat, I'd be tipping it to you."

"I take it you're Spike," she said dryly, though her eyes looked amused, if a bit wary. Spike couldn't help but notice the wand peeking out of her sleeve. She was a smart woman as well as slightly evil.

"Yeah, that'd be me. And that one there's Connor."

Her eyes briefly darted to the boy on her left, before returning to Spike.

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of this school," she said. "I've already met Dawn and your other friends-"

A growl from Connor interrupted her.

"Dawn had better be alright," he said, eyes narrowed and threatening. The woman didn't even flinch.

"Of course the Bit's alright," said Spike, rolling his eyes. "Illyria and the other one stayed behind to protect 'er, remember? And the woman definitely doesn't look like she's been fighting Illyria."

Minerva McGonagall huffed. "I think you're underestimating us," she said.

"Nope, I just know Blue and I know what she's capable of. And I know she doesn't give one lick about human lives so long as they don't try and get in 'er way."

Spike had to admit he was suitably impressed by the woman. The fear he smelt off her didn't show in her face or posture – she held her head high and her back straight without the slightest sign of tremblings. Dawn had probably told her he was no threat to the school, but the deputy headmistress clearly wasn't about to allow herself to be caught off-guard. She was ready to defend the castle if necessary.

Spike could admire that.

"You are welcome at Hogwarts only for so long as you do not harm anyone within the school grounds. And Dawn has assured me that you would all be leaving once the two of you were back with Potter, Granger and Weasley."

Connor snorted. "Don't worry, once the sun goes down we're outta here."

Spike shrugged. Well, it wasn't like they had any reason to stick around. And Buffy was probably going to yell at them already for taking so long. And there was that apocalypse to worry about...

Minerva McGonagall nodded.

"Good. Your friends are still in the library. I'll have the house elves prepare some food for you and bring it up."

"You're going to let us eat in the library?" Connor asked, surprised. "Isn't that usually against school rules. Or at least is has been in every library I've ever been to."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm assuming you are not children and are capable of eating like civilized people without making a mess or dirtying any of the books."

"Well, yeah but-"

"Then there shouldn't be a problem."

"It was a pleasure to meet the two of you. I shan't be seeing you off, so I hope you have a safe journey home."

The professor turned to leave. Spike watched her approach the staircase going up and smirked. Just as she reached the first step, he called out to her.

"Oi, Minnie!"

She froze, before slowly turning around, scowling at him furiously. Spike cocked his head arrogantly.

"A word of advice, if you ever come across another vampire. Don't look 'im in the eyes. 'S not my style, but if I'd 'ave been Dru, you'd've told us all about the castle's defenses by now."

He could see her jaw clench and nearly burst out laughing.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said stiffly.

Spike grinned after she'd turned away and began walking up the stairs again. Then he turned to Connor and the two of them headed to rejoin Dawn and the others in the library.

---

The first thought Anthony had as his mind began to wade through the murky depths surrounding it towards the spot of distant light that was consciousness was: 'Bloody hell, must've been Mitchel mixing the drinks again last night."

He groaned as his eyes flickered open only long enough for him to establish that it was much too bright outside. He'd probably been too drunk to remember to close the blinds last night. And closing them now would require getting out of bed. He began to turn onto his side, away from the evil, evil sunlight, stopping with a strangled cry when pain flared through his shoulder and hip. His eyes opened wide, the pain acting like an instant wake-up call.

Okay, he thought, so he definitely wasn't hung over. He gritted his teeth as he struggled against the pounding in his head to breath through the pain, hoping it subsided quickly into something that felt less like he was being dipped into molten lava.

He also realized he hadn't been roommates with Mitchel Bennet since his undergraduate days and, not only was he longer a student, but also just so happened to be the Prime Minister of England. Had he been in any less pain, he might've felt a bit overwhelmed by the sudden shift from humble student to prime minister, but as it was, it felt a bit like a minor detail. Then he also remembered the wizards and their war. Oh, and the demons.

When he no longer felt like the left side of his body was trying to tear itself away from the rest of him, Anthony carefully moved his neck to the left to get a look at his surroundings. He didn't recognize them. Although, if the electric lamp on the bedside table next to him and the i-pod dock sitting on top of the shelf against the opposite wall, were any indication, he wasn't in the Wizarding World at least.

Ever so slowly and carefully, he turned his head to the right, his neck protesting with a sharp jab of pain if he moved it too quickly. Halogen lights on the ceiling were yet another indication of the non-magicalness of wherever it was he'd awoken in. Finally, he managed to turn his head around enough to be able to see the bare and well-bandaged torso of Kingsley Shaklebolt.

There were tubes sticking out of him and his neck was in a brace, but the tall black man was breathing.

He heard a door softly open and the close.

"Oh!" a soft female voice exclaimed.

Anthony tore his eyes away from Shaklebolt's prone form and slowly turned his head back towards the door that had been next to the bookshelf with the i-pod dock. There was some shuffling to his left and then, by the time he'd managed to turn his head, there was a woman with long, brown hair tied back in a neat french braid, staring down at him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she said with a smile as she held out a glass of water with a bright pink straw sticking out. "Here, you must be thirsty. Careful though, your throat is likely to still be quite sore."

Anthony gratefully took a few tentative sips. It hurt to swallow, but the cool liquid felt wonderful as it flowed down his throat.

"Th-thank you," he rasped when he was done. "Where am I?"

She smiled down at him as she placed the glass onto the bedside table.

"You're welcome. My name is Anora and this is the Watcher's Council."

Which didn't help him in the least. His blank look must've conveyed his confusion adequately enough, because the woman chuckled before standing up.

"I'll just go and get Rupert then, shall I?" she said. "He'll explain everything to you."

Anthony inclined his head in thanks, grateful that Anora didn't seem to expect a verbal reply, because it felt like there was a fire happily burning inside his throat. She paused for a few moments to check the IV attached to his arm and then disappeared from his line of sight. Once again, he heard the door open and close softly.

He must've dozed off again, because suddenly he was opening his eyes to the sleep-blurred profile of an unfamiliar man sitting at his bedside reading from a rather massive book. Also, the room wasn't as bright and his head no longer felt like there was an elephant marching band stomping through it – more like lightly tapdancing baby elephants. He tried to sit up and winced, a hiss of pain escaping him as his body reminded him (felt more like it was shouting at him really) why he was laying down in what had to be a clinic of some sorts in the first place.

"Oh, you're awake," a soft-spoken voice said. "Please don't try to move around too much. You've suffered a rather nasty head injury. Just a moment, um..."

The man seemed to fumble with something Anthony couldn't quite see and suddenly the bed he was laying on began to vibrate slightly. He soon found himself moving forward as the top half of the bed folded up. It stopped once he was mostly sitting upright. He got his first proper look at his surroundings.

The room was immaculately clean and white-washed, except for the baseboards and doorframe, which were painted royal blue. Someone had clearly taken the effort to infuse the room with hints of colour to offset the stark whiteness of the walls, ceiling and furniture. He'd noticed before that his table lamp had a bright red shade on it, but now he could see that every bedside table in the room had an identical lamp, each with a different colour shade. There were also several flower arrangements sitting atop small, white wooden stools (it was difficult to tell whether or not they were real) and a beaker full of oddly-assorted pens sitting on the counter to his far left. The counter was placed against the wall with cupboards both above and below it as well as a small fridge at its right end. It was clear of just about anything except for the beaker of pens and a cardboard box marked "Gloves".

The room held seven hospital beds with matching IV stands, though he and Shaklebolt were the only two patients at the moment. Out of the big window to his left, Anthony could see greenery and wondered whether there was a garden outside, since he certainly couldn't hear any traffic. He suddenly wondered whether he was even still in London.

The man sitting next to him cleared his throat and Anthony turned his attention to him.

He wore glasses, which, coupled with a tweed jacket and jeans, reminded Anthony of one of his former history professors from uni. However, he looked younger – probably not much older than Anthony himself was actually - and certainly less foreboding than his former professor had been. In fact, the longer he looked at the man, the more he realized the only things he and his former professor had in common was the tweed jacket. Whatever drugs the lovely nurse had pumped him full of while he was unconscious were likely also helping with the resemblance. Apparently, morphine made his mind hark back to his university days.

"Would you like some water, Mister Prime Minister?" the man asked.

"Y-yes please," Anthony rasped out, suddenly realizing that his throat felt as though it was an extension of the Sahara Desert, complete with sand and cacti.

As the still-unknown man – although, he rather expected he would turn out to be the mysterious 'Rupert', whom the nurse had headed off to fetch before Anthony had fallen asleep again – poured him a glass of water, Anthony suddenly realized he'd just been addressed by his title. Which meant the people here were not only non-magical, but also knew who he was. Of course, this made the situation even stranger, because wouldn't most regular people simply call a hospital if they found someone laying unconscious on the street?

Then he remembered the dark-haired warrior, who'd saved his life.

Anthony gratefully took the glass of water the man offered him and took several tentative sips until he was sure his throat could take it and then took several deeper sips. When he was done he handed the glass back.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked.

"Been better, but at least I'm alive," Anthony answered. It still hurt to talk, but at least he now sounded like he only had a nasty cold and his throat felt sore, not burning.

"Yes, you were incredibly lucky. If Faith hadn't decided to deviate from her normal patrol route she wouldn't have been able to save you. It seems the demons had put up a rather powerful barrier around the street, so that no one outside it would see or hear anything unusual occurring."

Well, that certainly explained a lot, thought Anthony. Now that he was no longer preoccupied with running for his life, he had wondered why no one had come out of their homes to see what all the racket was about. Every neighbourhood usually had at least one nosy neighbour (or one dozen as had been the case of the one he'd grown up in) and with all the yelling and screaming they'd been doing it wouldn't even be considered nosy to go see what was going on outside...

Also, where the hell had his regular bodyguards been? Usually whenever he said he wanted to take a walk alone they'd make a token protest before nodding politely and then wait until he was a block or so away before one of them got out of the car and discretely followed him (it had taken him months to learn to ignore this). Had they also been kept out of the barrier?

"There was a woman there," Anthony after a moment. "Long, dark hair, blood red lips and fiery eyes. She was like a warrior goddess, like Athena... She saved my life."

"Yes, that'd be Faith," said Giles, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Anthony felt himself blush. Morphine apparently made him a tad lyrical as well, it seemed.

"Yes, well, she was brilliant, whoever she was. I would like to thank her in person, if that's possible." He frowned. "She is alright, isn't' she?"

The amusement evaporated out of Giles' eyes like boiling water on a freezing day. His jaw clenched and the pain and sadness in his eyes terrified Anthony. The woman had seemed so strong, invincible even. Surely she wasn't...?

"She's alive," said Giles after taking a deep breath. "But she was badly injured, lost a lot of blood... You were unconscious for the worst of it. The demons that had attacked you called for backup after she and the girls arrived..."

Giles lapsed into silence, suddenly looking older than his years and Anthony knew there was more to this story. Faith was alive, but clearly not unharmed. What he'd seen had been bad enough; if something worst had come later then he was glad he'd missed it. He was also suddenly even more surprised they were all still alive.

Giles took a cloth out of his jacket pocket and began polishing his glasses. Anthony wondered whether they'd somehow managed to have the same history professor, because that was definitely one of the habits he remembered.

"During the ensuing battle, she... one of the demons managed to take her by surprise... She's lost an arm." The sentence was finished in a whisper, as though saying the words more loudly would somehow make them more real than they already were.

Anthony stared at the man, his mind a blank. He was alive and that girl – this valiant warrior named Faith – had saved his life and paid for it with a sacrifice of her own flesh. An arm. The warrior goddess from his oxygen-deprived, dazed memory had fought off demons without flinching; she should've been able to take a hit and then brush herself off and walk away laughing! Anthony looked down at his own two arms – one bundled in bandages and one slightly scraped up – and imaged one of them suddenly not being there.

"Where is she now?" he asked, still feeling numb, but with the urge to do something. He was the Prime Minister of England, dammit, and Faith had saved his life. He would make sure she had the best private room and the country's top doctor taking care of her.

"At the hospital," said Giles carefully. He paused to scrutinize Anthony silently, before continuing in a very neutral tone. "We have several private rooms on reserve at the Central Middlesex Hospital and regular, generous, donations ensure there are no questions asked when we send them a patient."

Anthony froze.

"Who's 'we', exactly?" he asked cautiously, hoping the question – or rather the answer – didn't earn him a pair of cement shoes and a trip to the English Channel. "And, for that matter, why am I not at a regular hospital?"

"Yes, ah, as for why you're not in a hospital... it's actually a rather embarrassing story... You see, neither one of the girls who rescued you are British and Xander, our current events expert at the moment, was rather busy being concerned about his badly-injured friend along with the rest of us. And, well, to be quite honest, we were actually more preoccupied with having a wizard, who might not be evil and you just sort of... came along for the ride, I suppose. It wasn't until Anora already had you all cleaned up, bandaged and hooked up that she realized why you looked so familiar." He shrugged. "Of course, knowing who you were put an entirely new spin on things, so I decided not to do anything until you'd awoken. Wouldn't want to contact the wrong person."

Anthony nodded. Yes, he supposed that made sense. One girl with a cut-off arm and a wizard with a deep ax wound certainly warranted more attention than him and he highly doubted he'd been looking anywhere near his best last night. After all, who would expect the random bloke getting attacked on the street by demons would end up being a world leader... except. They'd set up a barrier; they'd been prepared, possibly known he'd have a wizard with him.

Suddenly, his head was spinning and Anthony had to close his eyes against the dizzying sensation of movement, despite knowing perfectly well he was sitting down. For some reason, it had taken him this long to put the pieces together and he felt like a fool, the terror from the attack returning to him in full force and his newfound understanding lending it an even sharper edge.

In his mind, he'd been calling it an attack, but that wasn't right, because he now realized it hadn't been just an attack. Those demons had been sent after him. It had been an assassination attempt.

He took a deep breath. He had to calm down. It had been an attempt and it had failed. He had this girl, Faith to thank for that. He was safe now. He thought.

Opening his eyes, he saw Giles looking at him with a mixture of worry and sympathy in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," said Anthony. "I just – it hadn't occurred to me to think of it in that sense. D-do you think someone in the government was responsible for this?" He paused, eyes widening as something occurred to him. "Or, you- you don't suppose the wizards are behind it?"

Giles frowned. "I have no idea whether anyone in the government would be involved, but we rather thought you mind have an idea. Or at the very least you might know who definitely isn't involved and who can be trusted with knowing your whereabouts. As for the wizards... from what we've been able to figure out, wizards don't seem to have much contact with demons. Although, we do know that Lord Voldemort has been attempting to recruite demons and vampires to his side with at least some success given how many vampires there currently are in the city."

Anthony blinked. Was it too late to wish he had remained unconscious?

"From what you've been able to gather? You mean you're not connected to the Wizarding World?"

"No, not at all. It was really almost by accident that we stumbled upon them." Giles' expression darkened. "They also took one of ours. And altered the memories of two others."

"And that's why you're looking for wiz-?" Anthony didn't managed to finish his sentence as the sand in his throat suddenly became gravel and he erupted into a coughing fit.

Giles handed him the glass of water and Anthony gratefully took several large gulps. Once his throat had settled back to a more-manageable burn, Giles settled back into his chair. He took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket again and began to methodically clean his glasses. The room was silent for a few moments. When he was done he replaced his glasses and then folded the handkerchief back up and stuffed it carefully back into the pocket. Then he took a deep breath and regarded Anthony with a thoughtful expression.

"Before we go off onto a wizard tangent, perhaps it might be wise to return to your original question," he began. Anthony nodded, realizing he still didn't know who he was dealing with, although some part of him trusted the man in front of him. "We are the Watcher's Council. I am the current head of the council and Faith is one of our senior slayers."

"Slayers?" Anthony asked, bewildered. "You don't mean to say she's actually a demon slayer?"

"Vampire slayer, technically speaking, but really it depends on whatever happens to be trying to eat people on any given day."

Anthony decided very quickly he would not think too hard on that statement, because his head hurt too much already and panicking would certainly not help the situation one bit.

"Perhaps I should start at the beginning?" Giles asked and Anthony thought 'Uh oh', but nodded an affirmative anyway. Because at this point he knew he couldn't very go back to being ignorant no matter how much he wished it, so he may as well know everything.

True to his word, Giles launched into an explanation that was rather more of an epic tale and Anthony wondered if this was some sort of strange destiny. Whether everything since the moment he'd become Prime Minister and heard a painting clear its throat – no, since the fateful moment in his boyhood when he'd decided he was going to one day become Prime Minister of England - had been preparing him for this moment, so that he could hear this tale and accept it as truth and not someone's fanciful creation.

Within the span of probably no less than half an hour, the world suddenly became a foreign place Anthony, it seemed, knew only very little about. True, he'd traveled half the world and met all sorts of different people both as a poor university student and then later as a politician. But those were only the 'human' people in the world, but there were demons and vampires and witches and probably many other things in this world.

His grandmother used to swear faeries gathered around the old water pump in the corner of her garden just before dawn and now he wondered whether she'd been right. If he'd gotten up early enough and snuck quietly to the half-rusted copper pump nestled in-between fragrant lilac bushes, would he have seen them?

But, most importantly, in this vast and terrifying new world he knew practically nothing about, there were slayers.

"These girls," he finally rasped once Giles paused to gauge his reaction. "They risk their lives. They... they're heroes and no one knows about them."

Giles looked at him, a sad sort of resignation in his eyes.

"It's the way it has to be. People can calmly live their lives in peace, without fear of the darkness, precisely because they don't know what's out there."

"That's what the wizards say," Anthony said before he could stop himself – or pause for a moment to realize that, well, maybe that wasn't entirely accurate, or fair.

"We do not meddle with people's memories, nor do we recreate the truth," Giles immediately countered the accusation, voice flat and eyes shining with barely-concealed anger. "Although we do often find it necessary to lie about knowing the truth, usually it's to avoid becoming Bedlam's newest tenants. You see, we've discovered over the years that, for the most part, humans do a very good job of reconstructing the truth on their own to make it fit into their comfortable world-view. Anyone, who's interested in the truth, can find it easily enough if they're willing to stretch their imaginations and acknowledge it. My colleagues and I aren't here to prevent people from discovering what lies in the shadows; we're here to make sure it doesn't kill them."

The vehemence in his voice startled Anthony. It sounded personal and he couldn't help but wonder whether Giles had had a bad experience with the Wizarding World in the past (although he couldn't actually remember having a good experience when dealing with wizards himself, so perhaps this was a sort of universal problem). Either way, Anthony would certainly never make the mistake of lumping the Watcher's Council together with the Wizarding World again.

A low moan from the other bed immediately caught the attention of both men. Giles looked over his shoulder before running to the door, probably to call for Anora. As the door clicked shut behind him, Anthony watched Kingsley Shaklebolt slowly struggle back to life. The exact moment the wizard became aware of his surroundings became instantly clear, because the wizard tensed, frowning in confusion.

First, he tried to move his neck, only to find he couldn't because of the neck brace. Then Shaklebolt moved his left arm, eyes widening at the sight of the needle embedded in it and then looking progressively more bewildered as he followed the tube sticking coming out of his arm to the bag hanging on a metal stand beside his bed.

Anthony grinned. Nothing thus far had managed to lift his spirits as quickly as watching the wizards face during his exploration of non-magic medical treatments.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," he called to the wizard when Shaklebolt began to tug at the tape holding the IV needle in place. "The nurse seems nice enough, but I've learnt over time there are two people you never want to piss off: the one making your food and the one administering your painkiller dosage."

"Words of the wise," Anora's voice said from the doorway. Anthony turned his head to watch her close the door after her. She then winked at him playfully. "I should get that engraved on a plaque over the door. We can call it rule number two."

"Number two? What's rule number one?" Anthony asked with a frown.

"Don't die."

"Oh." Anthony paused, blinking. He thought she'd been joking. "Well, I can live with that rule. No, er, pun intended."

Anora giggled as she rushed past his bed and went straight to Shaklebolt, her eyes scanning the IV bags before she began examining the wizard. Anthony sat back and listened to her introduce herself and explain what had happened the night before. Giles eventually returned, followed by a petite redhead that couldn't have been older than 25 and looked as though she'd just been woken from a desperately-needed nap.

The look on Shaklebolt's face when Giles introduced her as the witch, who'd worked on healing his wound, was priceless. And the expression got even better when gradually found out that she was from California, had two non-magic parents, had never attended a magic school, and, no, she didn't use a wand. Anthony gathered this was all rather impressive, but what he found most fascinating was the wound itself once Anora took the bandages off to change them. The wizard did not look like he'd had an ax embedded in his shoulder less than 24 hours ago. The wound had been closed, although a thick line of angry-red scar tissue and scabbing still made it look incredibly painful.

Apparently, magical healing wasn't as instantaneous in real life as it was in the movies.

As Anora and the redheaded witch – whose name was Willow - examined Shaklebolt, Giles began asking questions about the Wizarding World. The dark-skinned wizard seemed very wary of Giles and Anthony had to admire his ability to think through his answers despite the medication he had to be on. The wizard flinched when Giles mentioned 'Lord Voldemort', but the name got him talking. Although, after listening for a while, Anthony couldn't help but frown, because Shaklebolt wasn't telling them anything they wouldn't have known just by asking him. He was giving them the Muggle-approved spiel.

One look at Giles and Anthony realized the Head of the Watcher's Council was well aware of this. Willow looked a bit confused, but listened patiently.

The door opened again, this time emitting a delicious aroma of food – chicken soup if he wasn't mistaken. Two girls entered. The first one was blond and looked like the eldest of the two, although still only about the same age as Willow. She wasn't very tall, but a red tank top revealed well-defined muscles and her eyes had a hard edge to them – this girl was definitely no pushover. She held open the door for the second girl, who was pushing a metal cart with two bowls of soup, some sandwiches and a couple of glasses of orange juice in front of her. This girl was probably closer to fifteen years old, but taller and plumper than the first one, with short black curly hair, a studded collar around her neck just visible over the neckline of a dark blue t-shirt containing the logo of some band Anthony didn't recognize and probably didn't listen to if the picture was any indication of its music style.

Suddenly, Anora was by his side and setting a bed tray in front of him, being mindful of the plastic legs so that they didn't jar any of his injuries. After she was done, the dark-haired girl began setting the food she'd brought in front of him.

"Thank you," he said with a smile, tearing his eyes away from the food in front of him in order to meet her eyes.

"You're welcome," she answered with a shy smile of her own. There was a slightly stunned look on her face - one he'd seen before at non-political dinner parties – as though she couldn't quite believe she was bringing lunch to someone she'd seen on television.

Once lunch had been served, the girl wheeled the cart to the far corner of the room, where it was out of the way and then left. The blonde remained. At some point in time during the whole lunch-serving process, Willow had gone to stand beside her and the two were quietly discussing something. Or rather, the blond was listening intently to whatever the redhead was telling her, occasionally stopping to ask a question, but mostly just nodding in acknowledgment.

Once the dark-haired girl had left, the blonde looked thoughtful for a moment, meeting Giles' eyes briefly, before apparently coming to some sort of decision. With a deep breath and a determined look on her face, she approached Anthony.

"Hi, I'm Buffy Summers," she said, her face suddenly lighting up with a wide smile that seemed to transform her into a completely different woman – one that should've been out shopping for shoes in a trendy sundress in downtown London while sipping an iced cappuccino, not standing in a medical ward where the topics of the day were near-death and demons.

"Anthony Davidson," he replied, holding out his unbandaged hand for her to shake. Her handshake was very firm. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Summers. Or, at least as pleasurable as possible given the reason why I'm meeting you in the first place, I suppose."

"Yeah, demon attacks don't exactly have a tendency to be very pleasurable." Buffy paused and looked to Giles nervously. "I'm really glad Faith managed to get there in time to save you. And please call me Buffy; Ms. Summers takes me back to my high school days and reminds me of the principal I'd rather purge from my memory."

Anthony laughed.

"Very well then, Buffy. If you don't mind my asking, though, are you also like Faith? A demon - no, sorry, vampire slayer?"

The smile disappeared from her face.

"Yeah," she answered, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath. "Faith's doing alright, by the way. Giles said you'd asked about her and I was just at the hospital. She'd kinda in shock about the whole thing, but awake and healing. Physically, I mean."

Anthony nodded. "Is there- I mean, would it be possible for me to have flowers or chocolates or something sent to her." He paused at the surprised look on Buffy's face. "I realize it's nothing compared to having saved my life or losing a limb, but, well, it's a gesture of thanks I suppose."

"No, I mean, yes, of course, that'd be awesome!" Buffy blinked, looking at him as though she wasn't quite sure he was real. "She'd love it. Sorry, it's just that we're kind of all used to risking our lives to save people, but they don't always stick around to thank us, let alone send flowers." Her smile became blinding. "She'd love it. Makes me kinda jealous, really."

Anthony smiled back, determined now more than ever to make sure he sent the most amazing bouquet of flowers Faith had ever received. He'd have to recruit some help, of course. As he began to ponder who would be best to contact and how (if this had been an assassination attempt then he needed to be extra careful how he contacted the government to let them know he was alive), Buffy Summers shifted her attention to Kingsley Shaklebolt

"Hi, Willow tells me your name is Kingsley," she said with a bright smile. "I'm Buffy."

Shaklebolt nodded in acknowledgment, his expression wary. He clearly hadn't missed the 'this girl is important' vibes floating around the room. Anthony began to eat, not taking his eyes off the two. The wizard looked much better than he had a while ago, some colour having returned to his face.

"So, how're you feeling?" Buffy asked.

"I'm feeling much better," Shaklebolt answered. "I suppose I too owe my life to your colleague, Faith."

"Yup, you sure do. And since you realize that I'll cut right to the chase." Shaklebolt froze. "As soon as you're feeling up to the trip, you're taking me to Hogwarts."

The wide-eyed shock that exploded over the wizard's face was comical.

"H-how do you know about Hogwarts?" he demanded.

Buffy raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. The smile was gone.

"We've got our ways. Especially when someone messes with one of ours."

"I'll have to speak to my superiors-"

"Uh, I don't think you're getting the message here." Buffy's eyes were hard as rocks and her posture unyielding. Anthony almost felt sorry for Shaklebolt. "See we have your wand and one of my girls is now less an arm because of you. Because you failed to protect the Prime Minister. So you owe us big time. And I've got someone at Hogwarts I need to meet and a sister to pick up. Plus, I'm pretty sure you want to go back to the Wizarding World, right? So really, this is a win-win situation."

She paused, taking in Shaklebolt's narrowed eyes. She smirked.

"Not that you have a choice, really."

---

Lisa Callaghan nearly dropped the sheet of biscuits she was taking out of the oven when the phone rang. Its shrill sound somehow always seemed louder when she was absorbed in doing something. With a practiced movement, she used her knee to close the oven door shut and slid the cookie sheet on top of the stove, before shucking off her mauve oven mitts and running to the front hall.

"Yes, hello? This is the Callaghan residence."

"Oh, hello Lisa, thank God you're home."

Lisa's eyes widened at the familiar voice.

"Anthony! What in the world... where are you? Norman called earlier. He said the government's in a complete panic, because you've up and disappeared and they can't find you!"

"Yes, I figured as much which is why I'm calling you now. Listen, something happened last night. I-I was attacked. And... well... I'm pretty sure it was deliberate, that they knew exactly who I was."

Lisa gasped, her empty hand flying to her mouth.

"Bloody hell! Are you alright?"

"Yes, a bit scraped up and my head feels worse than the day after I got voted into office, but I'm alive. I got lucky."

"Lucky? Where the hell were your bodyguards in all of this?"

"To be fair, I'm not sure if they'd have been much help last night." There was a dry chuckle, which dissolved into a hacking cough.

"Anthony? Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, sorry, I'm fine. My throat's a bit sore is all. Listen, I was wondering if I could get you to do me two favours."

"Of course, anything."

"Could you call your husband and tell him I'm alright. At the moment I'm recuperating at a sort of, um, medical ward run by the people, who rescued me. And, yes, I realize I could call him myself, but, well, I'd rather play on the side of obscene paranoia for the moment. I have no idea, who might've instigated this attack or if anyone in the government's involved, which could mean phone taps."

"Okay, alright, I can do that. That's all you want me to tell him? That's you're alive and reasonably well?"

"Pretty much. Actually, there's a second part of this. Could you please go to a florist and get the biggest, most elaborate bouquet you can and perhaps some sort of very nice chocolates and take them to the Central Middlesex Hospital to a young woman named Faith Machane? She saved my life last night and got very badly hurt. I really want to send her a token of thanks."

Lisa raised an eyebrow, one that usually had her children squirming in their seats.

"There will be several people visiting her. One of them will give you a cellphone. I need you to take it and give it to Norman. Tell him I'll call him on it later tonight – around eight or so, I'd say."

Lisa was silent for a moment as she absorbed the information. She did genuinely like the younger man that was prime minister and had known him for years, but especially since her husband had been named finance minister. The man did tend to be a tad over-dramatic at times, but rarely without reason.

"Alright, I'll do it, but you owe me a big one."

Anthony laughed.

"Thanks, Lisa. I'll definitely make it up to you."

"You're welcome. And Anthony?"

"Yes?"

"Be safe."

"I'll do my best. Bye."

"Good-bye."

Lisa replaced the receiver and stared out into space for a few moments. She closed her eyes as a sudden wave of fear enveloped her – the world outside her home was becoming so dangerous. She took a deep breath and shoved the fear aside as she opened her eyes and looked into the kitchen, the half-finished batch of cookies mockingly staring back at her, a false sense of domestic safety. It looked like she wouldn't finish them today after all.

With a sigh, she picked up the receiver again and dialed her husband's cell.

---

"The Snake is not the King of Beasts, but the Lion cannot win," Dawn said out loud.

Four heads looked up at her from a space on the floor, where several tables had been pushed to the side. Draco, Connor and Illyria were huddled around a deck of cards with Azazella looking on from her perch atop a table. After a quick trip to the Slytherin dorm rooms (with Azazella's help), Draco was now teaching Connor and Illyria how to play exploding snap. Spike was still asleep somewhere in the back, where Draco had transfigured a few of the tables into simple beds.

"Huh?" said Connor after while, when it became clear Dawn wasn't going to elaborate on her cryptic statement.

"What do you think of when you hear that sentence?" Dawn asked, looking at them thoughtfully.

Connor blinked. "Uh, sounds to me like you've got yourself a stalemate." At Dawn's 'go on' look, he shrugged. "I mean, you've got a Snake, who's gotten really powerful for some reason, but still isn't as powerful as the Lion, but although the Lion's the most powerful of the beasts, he's not strong enough to actually defeat the Snake."

"You're assuming the Lion's more powerful than the Snake," Draco spat.

"The Lion is the King," said Illyria. "If the Snake were more powerful, he would kill the Lion and become the King."

"When you say Snake and Lion, are you talking about Slytherin and Gryffindor?" Draco asked with a frown.

"I'm not sure," said Dawn.

"Is this from that prophecy you found before you got abducted?" Connor asked.

"Yeah, it's the last line."

"Prophecy?" Draco looked a bit shocked, which quickly turned into annoyance. "Are you saying we've been staying at Hogwarts for all this time because of a stupid prophecy?" He snorted. "Trust a Muggle to believe in such nonsense."

The superior smugness disappeared from the blond's face at the pointed looks everyone else gave him.

"Remember how it really shouldn't be physically possible for me to be born?" said Connor with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, my birth was prophesied, like a vampire messiah. Apparently I'm supposed to either save the world or destroy it."

Draco paled. Dawn chuckled.

"Sorry, Draco, but I'm gunna have to call you wrong on this one. I've seen more than one prophecy in my lifetime and they all would've come true if my sister and the rest of us hadn't stopped it."

"Do you know the rest of the prophecy?" Angela's voice suddenly asked, breaking the ensuing silence. Dawn looked at her and then nodded.

"In seven days created, in two shall be destroyed,

Three Ancient Ones gather: one forgotten, one found and one restored,

Two worlds meet and warriors must rise,

The Three are joined by a fourth, who alone the tale can tell.

Blindness gives sight; insanity, wisdom

- to see when black is white and white is black.

The Snake is not the king of beasts,

but the Lion cannot win."

Dawn finished and for a few moments no one spoke.

"Yes, that is her prophecy," Azazella finally whispered, her voice soft and without a trace of demon. Dawn's eyes snapped to the human-looking demon, eyes wide.

"You- you've heard this before?" she asked.

"Yes." The demon paused long enough to shed her human guise. She straightened herself to her full, proud warrior height and met Dawn's eyes. "It is the reason I stayed behind when my kin abandoned this dimension. Aeiha, the Mad One, spoke the prophecy as our army was departing. She told me I needed to stay, because when it came to pass I would be important. When it did, I would have a choice between two masters and my choice would set the path of the prophecy in stone."

Dawn felt - and no doubt looked - nothing short of shell-shocked. Her mind felt like a frozen computer. No wonder the prophecy was so unclear; it had hung in the balance by a choice. Dawn looked down at the notes in front of her. She'd swiped them from Hermione's pile just before the girl and her friends had gone off with Spike and Connor to chase a soul fragment.

"Weren't you a servant or something in Voldemort's lair before you got out with Dawn and Draco?" Connor asked.

"Yes. By the time I remembered I had a choice to make I had already made it."

There was a long, very silent, pause.

"Well, shit. Guess it's a good thing Dawn got herself kidnapped then, isn't it?"

"And I got injured by that Muggle magic stick thing," Draco added, looking just as stunned as everyone else. "Or else Angela would have never needed to go down to the dungeons to bring me a healing potion..."

"...and Dawn wouldn't have managed to get out of the dungeons on her own, probably. Which means Buffy would've probably launched some sort of rescue mission by now and that'd have made us enemies."

Draco didn't bother trying to hide the horror that thought provoked. Just then, Spike sauntered up to them with a big yawn. He paused when he caught the mood in the room.

"Oi, what 'appened?" he asked.

"Did you know there was a second part of the prophecy?" Dawn suddenly asked.

Azazella blinked once.

"No, all I have heard was what you have just spoken."

Dawn nodded absently. The statement had only confirmed what she'd already thought.

"Just before Spike and Connor left with Harry and the gang, I was walking by Hermione's note pile and one sentence caught my attention," she began.

"So you swiped 'er notes?" Spike asked with a grin.

Dawn smiled a bit sheepishly as she looked at the vampire.

"Um, yeah, kinda. I mean, she wasn't going to need them while you guys were soul-searching, right?" Spike chuckled. "Anyway, according to her notes, I think I've managed to figure out that Harry ran into someone named Phythia – who, incidentally told him he wasn't the Chosen One, because he didn't fit the bill or something."

Draco looked confused at the snickers that came from Connor and Spike. But Dawn continued.

"Anyway, this woman, who may or may not be human – and I'm thinking not since Hermione wrote that Phythia mentioned her kin being in the Deeper Well, although she has no idea what that means -"

"Deeper Well definitely means demon," said Spike with a frown. "Very old demon too. You're thinking this prophet is an Old One?"

Dawn shrugged. "Possibly. According to Harry she was also blind and crazy, so who knows. Anyway, the main point here is that not only did he run into her, but also someone named Ginny did-"

"Weasley's little sister," said Draco. Then he frowned thoughtfully. "At least, I think that's her name."

"Would make sense, not that it matters really. Anyway, this Ginny girl got part three of the prophecy."

"So, basically that means that whatever's 'appening in the Wizarding World does concern the council after all," said Spike. "So, you figure Voldemort's the Snake and 'arry Potter's the Lion?" The vampire grinned. "My money's on the brat for the arm wrestling competition. Always get a kick out of rooting for the underdog."

"Arm wrestling competition?" Connor asked, blinking up at Spike in bewilderment. "How did we get from discussing a prophecy about an apocalypse to arm wrestling?"

Dawn stared at Spike for a few moments, before groaning. "Oh," she said. "You read my notes. In my defence, I was really tired and frustrated when I wrote that and never actually meant to let anyone read it."

"Forget the arm wrestling, where did this apocalypse come from?" Draco exclaimed. Connor looked to him with a raised eyebrow.

"'In seven days created in two shall be destroyed' sounds pretty apocalyptic to me," he said with a shrug. "And when prophecies sound like they're telling you the world's about to end, they usually are."

"What are the other two parts?" a voice laced with power said before the wizard had a chance to properly freak out about the world ending. Illyria didn't look outwardly annoyed, but Draco flinched slightly. Dawn looked down at the scroll laid out in front of her.

"Right, so the part Phythia told Harry in-person begins the same way my part ends, but then it continues, like she wanted it to be clear it's a continuation of what came before it."

"The Snake is not the King of Beasts,

but the Lion cannot win.

Venom spreads throughout the land,

and, before it, the Lion crumbles.

The Snake's power will soar,

none born will have the power to oppose him.

Until the Dragon rises."

"Nice and ominous," Connor commented. "So now we've got to find ourselves a Dragon. I wonder if the one my dad fought in L.A. managed to survive; I wasn't entirely clear on that one."

"You know, draco is Latin for dragon," said Spike.

All eyes turned to Draco, who froze at the attention.

"Um... well, yes, i-it is, but I don't think-" he stammered out.

Dawn giggled.

"Relax, Draco, I highly doubt it'd be that obvious. If there's one thing you can count on a prophecy being, it's obscure and confusing. Aaanyway, part three brings back our wonderful apocalypse:

Seven there were, five remain and time is running short.

When the Snake grows wings, it will be too late,

And all will amount to naught.

Wings to see and wings to soar, his might will be too great.

But with this might, his eyes go blind, he cannot see the sky.

As his will be done, the end will come,

of what in seven days created was."

Spike frowned.

"There's no more mention of the Four Ancients, though," he said.

"Noticed that, did you?" said Dawn.

"The Snake will gain power and will become corrupted by it," said Illyria. "Then the Snake is likely weak, human. His inability to control his own power will result in the world ending."

"Most likely," Azazella agreed. "And was not seven the number of soul shards the children were looking for?"

"Yeah, it was, though I think Hermione said they already had three before we went looking for number four," said Connor.

Spike shrugged. "Maybe they only found the third one after the chit met this prophet."

Connor simply nodded in agreement. He sighed and leaned backwards onto his hands.

"So, does this mean you want to stick around for a bit longer to try and figure this out or-"

"No, I think I need to talk to Giles and Buffy at this point," said Dawn quickly. "We should follow the plan and leave at sundown."

"Hm. Then, you know what? Let me go check what the weather's like. If it's cloudy we can leave early." Connor jumped to his feet. "I'm going a bit stir-crazy hangin' out in the library all day."

"I'll go with you," said Draco, scrambling to his feet.

Spike walked up to the cards and looked down with a raised eyebrow. Illyria motioned for him to sit and began to explain the game as she understood it.

Dawn once again looked down at the prophecy in front of her, ignoring everything around her as she concentrated on the words. Carefully, she mulled over everyone's comments from before, trying to see if a different perspective might make something become clear. She knew there was something important she was missing, something right in front of her that she was on the verge of figuring out, but it kept eluding her.

She was so engrossed, she didn't notice when the two demon's heads suddenly shot up to stare at the door. She did, however, jump when the library door slammed open to admit an out-of-breath Malfoy.

"Dawn," he said once he'd caught his breath. "Connor sent me to get you. Your sister's here!"

---

Thanks so much to everyone, who bothered to take the time to read this! Now please review!

Author's Notes:

Anora – I haven't made it obvious, because I don't think it matters, but in case anyone's picked up on it: yes, this is Wesley's little sister. I'm going with the assumption that children from Watcher's Council families all go through training or are given some form of education that would make them useful to the council in some capacity. Such as, a healer. I don't believe we're ever told how old Wesley's sister is, so I'm making her old enough to have gone to nursing school (or at least some form of healing apprenticeship or something).

"evaporated like boiling water on a freezing day" - Figured I'd explain this just in case some of my readers live in warmer climates than I (lucky bastards). If the temperature falls far enough then hot water thrown into the cold air will actually evaporate before it hits the ground creating a sort of instant fog. Don't believe me? Do a YouTube search for 'hot water and cold air' and there's a whole bunch of videos to prove this. It's actually pretty cool. In theory. The cold that's required to put this into practice is not so cool... er, good.

Bedlam - The Royal Bedlam (which is a corruption of Bethlehem) hospital is a psychiatric hospital affiliated with Kings College London Institute of Psychiatry. It's been a part of London since 1247, although it didn't become a hospital until 1337 and didn't begin to specialize in the mentally ill until later. (thanks Wikipedia for the info!)