CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: THE SLAYER

As Buffy hurriedly threw her clothes, books and other knock-knacks into her trunk, she felt…something.

A weight. Her heart dropped into her stomach, her pulse began racing, and her knees buckled beneath her. She landed heavily, her hands stopping her rapid fall.

She knelt by her bed, breathing hard, trying to work out what on earth had just happened to her. Several minutes ticked by, and Buffy managed to regain control of her basic motor functions. She struggled to her feet, still a little shaky, but feeling stronger than she had before.

She breathed deeply and moved to the other side of the bed, accidentally bumping into her heavy trunk. But to Buffy's surprise, instead of giving herself an aching shin for her troubles, the trunk shifted along the floor with ease, scraping the wooden boards noisily.

Buffy blinked in surprise. The trunk was filled with just about everything she owned. She hadn't had a chance to put a feather-light charm on it yet. She shouldn't have been able to move it at all.

Buffy's heart sank. She sat on her bed, working through the past few minutes with a growing realisation in the pit of her stomach.

She held out her hand in front of her, clenching and unclenching her fingers into a fist, trying to feel the difference. Taking a deep breath, she moved over to the solid brick wall, and psyched herself up for what she was about to do. She quickly ensured her wand was nearby, because either way, she would need magic to fix whatever damage came out of this little test.

Rearing back, with the speed of a striking snake, Buffy threw a punch at the brick wall. But instead of absolutely shattering her delicate hand, the bricks chipped, dented and crumbled.

"Crap."

000000000000000000000000

Buffy took a deep breath and, without knocking, opened the door to the boys dormitories. Harry and Ron looked up, surprised to see Buffy and Hermione entering the room. Hermione muttered a locking spell on the door after ensuring that none of the other fifth year boys were in the room with them.

"Couldn't you knock?" Ron asked indignantly.

"Did we interrupt something?" Buffy asked, raising her eyebrows.

The tips of Ron's ears went a bright red, and his resounding "no!" was more than enough to lift Buffy's spirits a little.

"D'you boys have a minute?" Buffy asked.

Harry nodded and stood, quickly approaching his sister.

"What is it?"

Buffy sighed. She had a feeling that her twin brother was about to have a fit. He didn't like being out of the loop, and she had definitely kept him in the dark about one of the many reasons she'd been in America for so long.

"Harry, you remember that part of the prophecy…about a 'Chosen Shadow'?" Buffy began. At Harry's nod, she continued. "Did you ever wonder what it meant, by the word 'chosen'?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. He'd never really thought about it, if he was honest with himself. A lot of the prophecy had been a little cryptic, and he hadn't paid a lot of attention to some of the waffling language that had made up the dreaded prophecy.

"Not really," he admitted.

"Well…it does mean something," Buffy said.

"What's it mean then?" Harry asked curiously.

Buffy breathed in deeply, wondering how best to broach the subject.

Hermione and Ron were looking on with interest, neither of them saying anything. They knew that Harry and Buffy were willing to let them know a lot of what was happening, and for that they were both grateful. And being in the same room while all the arguments were happening usually just saved time.

They both knew that the twins had been worried about telling them about the prophecy in the first place, but Ron and Hermione had taken it in stride. They'd been supporting Harry for four and a bit years, they weren't about to stop now.

"Ever heard of a Chosen One?" Buffy asked.

Harry shook his head. Ron looked confused. Hermione looked terrified.

"What's it mean?"

"You don't mean…the Chosen One, as in the Vampire Slayer, do you?" Hermione asked. "The one girl in all the world, chosen to fight the forces of darkness?"

Buffy nodded. She wasn't surprised that Hermione had heard about Slayers.

"Vampire Slayer," Ron repeated. "I thought that was all a myth. Fred and George tried telling me about a Slayer once. Said she was stronger than ten men, and could probably take out You-Know-Who without breaking a sweat. Bit of wishful thinking, though, isn't it?"

"I don't know about wishful thinking," Hermione said. "I mean, maybe that bit about taking out You-Know-Who is a little optimistic, but the rest of it is true. Slayers are chosen in their teens. They're trained by specialists, and they're identified in their childhood by a birthmark on their left shoulders."

Harry froze.

He looked at Buffy with wide eyes, taking in what Hermione had just said.

He knew that Buffy had a birthmark on her left shoulder. He'd seen pictures of Buffy when she was just a toddler, and the birthmark was there for all to see. In fact, he had the same mark, but on the opposite shoulder.

And then there was the fact that Buffy had brought the topic up at all.

"You're a Slayer?" Harry asked, his voice barely audible.

Buffy nodded.

Harry's right eye twitched, a sure sign of anger.

"And you didn't see it fit to tell me this before now because of what reason?" he asked, his voice steady and deceptively calm.

"Because before today, I wasn't a Slayer. I knew that it was possible that I could be called, but to be honest, I'd pretty much forgotten," Buffy explained.

"Forgotten?" Ron repeated incredulously. "How could you forget something like that?"

"Well, you worry about Voldy-Muggle wanting to kill you for a while, and see what you forget," Buffy griped.

Hermione looked as though she was on the verge of tears. She hadn't known why Buffy had dragged her up to Harry and Ron's room, and she was starting to wish that the reason far less serious. Hearing that one of her best friend's had been called as a Slayer was not something that she wanted to hear.

"Your trainer…it was Rupert Giles, wasn't it?" Hermione asked. The pieces were starting to fall together. She'd thought it odd that Buffy would be taken away for so long, and knowing that Giles had been training Buffy in the Dark Arts, and in how to perform like a Death-Eater wouldn't have taken that long, in Hermione's opinion.

"Yes," Buffy admitted. "He works for the Watcher's Council. They're responsible for finding and training Slayers."

"Is that why Voldemort was so keen to have you 'swayed to darkness'?" Harry asked. "Because he knew you'd be a Slayer?"

Buffy shrugged, shaking her head. "I don't know. It was never mentioned. I doubt he knows to be honest. The prophecy was cryptic at best."

The foursome went quiet, each of them trying to work out what this now meant. How they felt about things. What it had changed. What it would continue to change.

Ron was the first to speak. "What happens now?"

Buffy glanced at her friends, and her brother sadly. "Now, I leave."

"LEAVE?!" Harry yelled. "YOU CAN'T LEAVE!"

"I can't stay here Harry. D'you know, that right now, Snape's been given the very fun assignment of dragging me, kicking and screaming back to Sir-Likes-To-Kill," Buffy said. "And being taken, especially now that I'm a Slayer, is not an option."

Harry glared mutinously at his sister. Except he couldn't think of a single, logical, reasonable argument that would convince Buffy to stay. He'd known, on some level, that Voldemort would never just leave Buffy be. He'd want revenge. Voldemort was proud, and he would never tolerate being betrayed and made a fool of, especially by the youngest of Godric Gryffindor's line.

"Where are you planning on going?" Ron asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

"It's probably better if you didn't know that," Buffy said sadly.

Hermione felt an errant tear break its bonds, and slide down her cheek.

"This isn't fair," Harry said quietly.

"This isn't goodbye Harry," Buffy assured him. "I'm not about to cut and run now. Not when I've finally found out that I've got an older brother to annoy. I'll find something to make myself useful, trust me."

000000000000000000000000

Professor Albus Dumbledore was once again completely flummoxed. While it was true that he had yet to come up with a brilliant plan to ensure Buffy's safety within Hogwarts, he hadn't anticipated the young woman's startling revelations. The first being that she'd been Called as the Slayer, and the second being that she was leaving as soon as she was able to.

Dumbledore had known that Buffy could be called at anytime. In fact, he had been waiting for it to happen. He knew that it wasn't coincidence that the Potter twins had both had their destinies written in the stars, and he knew that this burden was one that Buffy would be able to handle admirably.

The only question now, was whether or not he should give the young Slayer a task to complete. He knew that Buffy was keen on helping in any way she possibly could.

It helped immensely that Buffy had been preparing for three years to help bring Voldemort down, and Dumbledore knew that she would do everything in her considerable power to do what she could. Which made his decision much easier.

"Miss Summers…there is perhaps a task that I believe you would be well suited to," Dumbledore said, his fingers tented, his tone thoughtful. "You and your new guardian will perhaps make a terrific team in this…quest."

"Quest, sir?" Buffy repeated sceptically. "There's no holy grail involved is there?"

Xander had introduced Buffy to both the Indiana Jones series, and the Monty Python films, and Buffy knew well that quests tended to end badly.

"Well, it certainly isn't holy," Dumbledore replied, chuckling a little. "And while many would describe it as more of a cup than a grail, the sentiments seem to be the same."

Buffy paused, trying to work out what Dumbledore had just said.

"Sir?"

"A cup, Miss Summers. Belonging to one of the four founders of Hogwarts. Helga Hufflepuff's most prized possession, and the last remaining relic of the Hufflepuff House."

Buffy's eyebrows furrowed. "Not to be rude or anything, but…how does finding this cup help defeat Voldemort?"

Dumbledore smiled and leant forward in his seat.

"That, Miss Summers, is a story for another time. And until then, I'll leave you in the capable hands of your godfather."

0000

I had no idea where this fic was going to go…and then I figured, why not just bring book six forward, and bring back Remus Lupin. Always fun. Many thanks for your reviews!!