Disclaimer: See chapter 1 (Spoiler, I own nothing in this story)
In the deepest classroom at the bottom of Hogwarts, Professor Severus Snape sat brooding. There were no classes to teach, students to punish, potions to brew, nor any spying to be done for either of his taskmasters.
Today, there was just him.
Alone.
With his thoughts.
A moment of perfect solitude he so rarely got to enjoy.
Severus broke through his contemplation as he stood up and strode over to his private bookcase. There, he looked over the special texts that he had collected throughout his career as a potions master and professor. The book he looked for, however, didn't concern ingredients or instructions. No, on the fourth shelf, third spine from the left, Severus picked up an unassuming notebook, ragged and held together only through repeated applications of preservation spells. He lightly touched the cover, tracing the spine with reverent care before stalking out of the classroom. A pair of second year Hufflepuffs scurried from his presence, an occurrence so frequent that it barely registered to him.
Severus never took the multitude of secret passages he knew, though it would have saved him valuable time. He never did, in all the years he lived in the castle. Not since the incident with Black and Potter back in third year and the Forworne extract. As he scaled the steps to the Astronomy Tower, his mind wandered back to all that he had done with his life. His friendship with Lily, going to Hogwarts, losing his friendship with Lily, making the choices that led to pledging his soul to the Dark Lord, the Prophecy, the Betrayal, the years he had hoped the Dark Lord was truly gone, the moment he knew he wasn't, his regression to the cursed role of double agent yet again.
He had anticipated how his life would turn out, killed by either the Dark Lord for being a double agent, or by the Order of the Phoenix for being a spy. Long life never played into his calculations. He was who he was and would pay his price and face his consequences, whatever they may be. He had made his peace with that eventual outcome long ago.
But then along came Lord Black, with his unusual upbringing and insightful comments. Severus had taken a chance, opting to train Harry in Occlumency as an innocent instead of as the Spawn of James. Harry's attitude changed significantly, allowing the boy to view his memories had made Severus realize Harry only ever seen one side of James, with no context of how horrible James had been to those he didn't like.
Then there was the idea Lord Black planted earlier in the year about creating a Wizarding Society class. Of course, he could have no part in it despite finding the concept ingenious, but a few whispered comments and questions was all it took to get Pomona Sprout to organize a new club. She even got it approved by The Toad because the syllabus would presumably praise the wonders and glory of the Ministry and Wizardkind. Over fifty muggleborns had already signed up for the first session after winter break, more than triple his personal estimate, mostly from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. He wanted to take credit for it, the Slytherin in him demanded it, but his role as spy prohibited it. That same annoying role, however, had nothing to do with the Potion Ingredient Equivalency Chart. That document, plus the ideas it represented, could make Severus thousands of galleons annually if used properly. As a professor and potion master, he had connections to the right people that he could be a silent partner with. A partnership that would allow him to buy his freedom from whichever side won the civil war they were currently fighting. A backup plan, in case he actually survived the inevitable clash that was coming. What would become of his plans and backup plans should he not survive, that question weighed on his mind and was the cause of his ascent into the tower. To have a moment unto himself to contemplate and find clarity.
Alone at the highest point in Hogwarts, Severus Snape, the Half-Blood Prince, opened his Charms notebook, his notes and his scratch paper for every Charms assignment he ever did as a student. What was more, it contained a record of his study sessions with Lily when they were children, before he severed their friendship out of misplaced anger in his fifth year. During their early years at the school, Severus struggled with every charm he was supposed to learn. It was only because of Lily's tutoring, done in quasi-secret in the library after dinners, that he got his Acceptable scores in the OWLS. Those hours together were some of his most treasured memories, a few of which he had already shared with Harry. His handwriting was atrocious, barely legible even for him, and honestly Lily's wasn't much better. It wasn't until Fifth year that he had become proficient in spelling and penmanship, but until that time it resembled more owl pecks than words to the uninformed.
Severus smiled to himself as he read Lily's thoughts on the application of Wingardium Leviosa in healing, a crazy idea that made the school nurse back then shake her head in wonder. He flipped a few more pages to her thoughts on using the adverse interaction between technology and magic to create a warning system for muggles to use to detect wizards. In hindsight, a rather novel idea, one which recent observations proved possible. Another note by her of how the legend of Robin Hood was probably started by a charmed quiver or bow that got in the hands of a muggle. A silly, silly notion, but the idea was very dear to her. Research done into the Bubble Headed Charm and using it in the vacuum of space, for exploratory travel. Her cartoon drawings of the two of them flying on brooms over the treetops that she charmed herself to move still held, years after her death. Though she passed, her work lived on, if nothing more than the moving picture he now held. It took all of his ironclad will to keep the tears from falling. There was more left of her, though.
There was Harry.
Against his will, Severus had come to realize he was as much Lily's son as James'. That thought, more than any other thought he'd contemplated in the last month, made his decision. He'd see the goblins shortly, before the end of the break, and make the necessary arrangements.
Tracey awoke slowly, head pounding and pain radiating throughout her body. She followed her training, not giving any external indication that she was awake, in case she had been taken hostage. It was a subtle means of eavesdropping on unawares and unsuspecting potential kidnappers so that she might learn something they'd let slip. Such kidnappings were supposedly rare in the Wizarding world, but the actual facts were a different story. In her disoriented state, she was still trying to get her bearings as to what was happening, so it took a few seconds before her ears cleared enough to listen into what was being said around her.
"Get out of my way, I'm going out there to kill them all," Faith's low growl threatened an extreme amount of pain to her target. Given what the students had learned of what Slayers were capable of, it was more than likely she would.
"Trust me, I get that. But we have people here who need us. If the vamps get in, they're in no condition to protect themselves." Buffy had the same growl, but it seemed more controlled than Faith's.
"We should be out there, fighting. We can help fight off the death eaters." A young male voice said with conviction, she wasn't sure exactly, but it sounded like Potter. Of course it was the Gryffindors wanting to charge out, and no doubt Ron will back up Harry's desire to get himself killed by an unknown force. At least Tracey now knew the area was safe enough to reveal her conscious state. She made small movements of all her limbs, concerned when her right leg wouldn't respond. Everything else seemed to be working properly, just her leg wouldn't respond. It wasn't in pain, either, which could be either good or bad. Tracey opened her eyes slowly and began to sit up. It was much harder to do so than she desired.
"How good did your fighting do you just now? I know we didn't have a chance back there. Where's Roger?" Tracey asked Harry, startling the room slightly. She was half facetious, half curious in her question as to his fighting prowess. She had heard the stories about Harry and his fights, but those were rumors and barely substantiated by unbiased sources. She honestly wondered how well he did against whoever it was that was behind this attack.
She looked at him directly and bit back her cry of alarm. His skin was bloody, with numerous small puncture wounds visible on his arms and chest that bled slightly, even after being healed. He wouldn't look at Tracey, instead glancing at a limp body on the couch next to him, covered in blood and bruises. She couldn't hold it back her cry of alarm for a second time, not when she recognized Daphne's pajama shorts. They had picked them out together while in San Francisco just last week, short silk bottoms with red dots, appropriate for hot weather but modest enough for parental approval. Daphne swore she wanted them for herself, but that was the beginning of Tracey's suspicions that her best friend had designs for one of the males in the group, and those shorts were part of that plan. Now they were stained red and ripped. She didn't even hear what Astoria was saying, and only when her name was shouted several times by the girl did she rip her eyes off of Daphne.
"What?" Tracey snapped dumbly. Some part of her brain realized the others that were injured, but it was too much to process now. She would, later, just not right now. She had to focus on survival.
"I told you that after you got hit, Roger ran off firing spells into the air, I think hoping to distract the vampires while we made a run to the house. I haven't seen Draco since we dragged your sorry arse in here." Astoria was just as snarky as her sister, a common Greengrass defense mechanism Tracey had learned. She was worried about her sister, her logical mind conveyed to her, the only part of her mind that was functional at the moment.
Draco took that moment to make his appearance, stumbling through the open door in a daze. Empty hollow eyes passed over the injured without any reaction, his normal pale features ghostly white. Astoria left Tracey to move to him, where she guided him to an empty chair next to a bookcase. Wherever he had been just now, Tracey was certain it was not a place she wanted to go. How did this night turn out so wrong?
Alone, for the moment, Tracey took a deep breath and decided she had delayed long enough. She glanced down at her right leg to determine why she couldn't feel it or move it. What appeared to be a glowing green plant root descended from her thigh to her ankle. It was something she had never seen before, and considering her pre-Hogwarts studies that was impressive. It pulsed lightly, and it took her a moment to realize that the green flared in time to her own pulse. Whatever had happened, it was connected to her circulatory system. It didn't appear to be growing, but she looked around for some ink just to make sure. She attempted to stand on her good leg to get to the inkpot a few feet away, drawing the attention of Fleur, who up to this point was busy with the Weasley patriarch.
"I am thinking whatever spell you were struck by was family magic, or something of their own creation, I have not seen anything like that before, but I believe I stopped the spread. Just in case, do not move too much." Fleur wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm before squatting down to take a breather. Ron, Arthur, and Daphne all looked stable enough, evidently thanks to Sirius' and Fleur's wandwork, while Giles, Buffy, and Faith were having a heated conversation in low tones. Luna and Hermione were huddled over Daphne and Ron, respectively, cleaning up some of their lesser wounds, with Harry standing watch.
"Can you cast?" Faith demanded of Tracey. There was none of the humor or amusement in the Slayer's voice that she had come to know and enjoy the last few weeks. Instead of responding, she used her wand, thankfully unbroken and still with her, to summon the inkpot she had been attempting to get. It flew steadily to her outstretched hand. Faith simply nodded as Tracey began marking the outline of the green veins on her leg. When she checked it later, she would be able to see if the veins had grown or shrunk.
"Very well, you two may go out, but remember you are only to perform Search and Rescue. Do not fight unless you have to, once everyone is together we will coordinate a counteroffensive. Since Faith has more training in SAR, she will be be making the decisions. Do you understand, Buffy?" Giles' stern question was less question and more command. Tracey could tell Buffy didn't like it, but she nodded her head anyway. Fleur and Sirius cast several charms and spells at the pair as they raided the weapon display case for various magical blades. There were disillusionment spells, silencing charms, several protections, and a few others she didn't catch. Without a word or any other sound, and barely any visual clues, the two dashed towards the exit. Astoria and Draco were huddled in the corner still, both without their wands. Giles turned to face her.
"Miss Davis, please be alert for any intruders. This home should be secure thanks to the wards, but I am not taking anything for granted at the present time. The same for you, Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood, and Mister Potter. I know you are worried over your friends, but they will survive those scratches for a few minutes more, until reinforcements arrive. Xander, Buffy, and Faith are out searching for the rest of our group, they are very capable and will bring the rest of our party back. Until then, we will need to secure this room." Without waiting for a response, Giles moved over to a pillaged display case and picked out a moderately sized crossbow which materialized a bolt, ready to fire while also on fire, which the older man pointed towards the doorway.
The muggle man had expected to be obeyed without question. It was something that would have made her hackles rise at any other time, more the fact that he was a man than the fact that he was a muggle, but she couldn't deny the logic and sense of it. With a sigh, Tracey settled down into the couch so that she was able to see and cast over the back of it, which was facing the doorway, but was given some cover. It was going to be a long night.
Don and Amelia Granger were enjoying the night sky and the estate's observatory when all hell broke loose. It was a small, unassuming building disguised as a rock outcropping, but actually housed a 26 inch refracting telescope with a magical projector. Whatever the telescope was pointed at would appear, midair, like a hologram and with no speed of light delay. When they asked yesterday how the telescope broke the speed of light, the house elf wasn't able to tell them. They chalked it up to magic. They had been taking turns picking their favorite astronomical targets, when the telescope passed close to the house. The image of Faith fighting for her life appeared, as well as several explosions. When they rushed outside to look, though, there were no signs or sounds of fighting.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Don gruffed.
"Language dear," Amelia absently chided. She moved to their bags and withdrew the black leather handbag Luna had given her for Christmas. Spellfire erupted from the main house by the time Amelia got back to her husband of 17 years, pulling him back into the observatory while closing the door.
"We have to be quiet," Amelia warned, pointing to the open roof. Don nodded in agreement immediately. Retracting the roof to use the telescope had caused an enormous ruckus, closing it again would make the same noise, only this time it would attract whoever was out there. As it was, the roof was the only open entrance into the building. They moved behind some crates containing cleaning equipment and maps to give them cover.
They had barely settled in when three house elves popped in next to the telescope, each one holding a small creature by a leash. Each of the unknown elf wore deep red robes with an unusual sigil on the breast pocket. The creatures looked like a cross between a piranha and an iguana, sniffing the air with their forked tongues. Don started to get up before his wife placed a hand on his bicep, shaking her head silently. She withdrew her Christmas present out of it's bag.
Two more pops sounded, this time it was Alkima and Tharah, the two Black house elves who had helped them earlier with their rooms. Immediately, the trio of lizards were released and they charged the Black elves, jaws snapping viciously. Alkima popped out of existence, and hopefully to safety, while Tharah jumped into the air and over the monsters, but not without receiving a lucky scratch to the leg. Purple blood dripped down her leg. The second she landed, one of the red robed elves snapped their fingers, knocking Tharah across the room and into the jaws of the lizards. That was all it took for Amelia.
With a smooth motion of year of practice, Amelia leveled her modified Browning HP pistol and pulled the trigger twice, each bullet silently exiting the barrel and traveling at a little less than 1000 miles per hour. The elf that had knocked Tharah back crumpled to the floor; its face and chest a disintegrated bloody mess where her rounds connected. Amelia pivoted, lining up the next elf in the sights and fired twice more, the bullets slicing through the variety of magical protections each elf had. The third elf was luckier, teleporting out before she could get all three. Without wasting a second, she turned towards the lizards currently feasting on the elf. Each one was about a foot long, with a head the size of an apple. Like the red robed elves, two died before the third could react. This time, instead of disappearing, the lizard shrank to the size of a well used pencil.
Unfortunately for it, Amelia could hit an aspirin at 40 meters.
She nodded to Don, who scrambled over to the bleeding elf's body to render what aid he could while his wife continued to scan the room and roof for threats. Her time in the British Armed Forces taught her to be economical in her movements, which allowed her to notice immediately three humanoids stealthily entering through the roof. Their yellow eyes and ridged foreheads gave them away as vampires, the description her daughter's professor had given them the first night on the trip matched exactly. She coolly drew a bead and fired. This time, unlike the previous nine shots, her target exploded when hit, enough to knock the other two to the ground with a thud and cracking of bones. An unexpected twenty-foot fall would do that to you. She wasted no time dispatching the remaining vampires as they tried to recover, though this time they simply burst into flames instead of exploded.
Amelia had no idea why the ammunition was changing, or how, but she remembered Luna telling her that the magazine would hold enough ammunition to never need reloading, and would be the best suited against whatever threat she was facing. Somehow, the magic in the gun could tell. Amelia could hardly consider herself knowledgeable when it came to wizards or magic, but from her limited experience with her daughter, that kind of magical power and versatility seemed to be high end.
"Still alive, but barely." Don updated. He hadn't reacted to the exploding vampire, instead taking off his shirt to start bandaging the wounds on the elf. He had to create a tourniquet just below the missing right hand. Another four vampires burst into flames, and then turned to dust, before he was finished, thanks to his wife's perfect aim. Gingerly, he lifted his patient into his arms and carried her over to his wife before gently laying her inside a box still filled with packing straw.
"We have to get to the house. They have the medical supplies there, plus, actual magical healers." Don continued to talk as he laid the remains of his shirt around the elf like a blanket.
"Bloody genius, you are," Amelia retorted wryly. "Of course we have to get to the house. Only problem is there are vampires or worse roaming all over this bloody island."
"Language, dear," Don mocked playfully before Amelia took down another pair of vampires in silence. It was a credit to her professionalism that she didn't even crack a smile at their long running joke. "Right, it's about two football fields away, we can get there in a minute if we make a run for it."
"Don't be daft, Darling. There's sand, vampires, you'll be carrying Tharah, and who knows what else will get in our way. A sprint won't do it, we'd be chopped down before we got halfway." Amelia reasoned. In the distance, screams could be heard, but it was impossible to tell who they belonged to.
A pair of black cloaked masked figure descended through the roof on broomsticks, their wands out and searching for targets. They masks matched the description of the terrorists Remus had told them about, so Amelia took aim. Her movement attracted their notice, though, and both were able to get shields up before she could fire. While each was encircled in a glimmering sphere of magical energy, Amelia fired a trio of bullets at the center of mass, loudly popping the magic bubble and knocking the attacker off their broom and into the far wall. The other wizard quickly cast more bubbles around him.
Whatever they were, the spells couldn't stop them from being repeated hit with her Browning. In a few seconds, both wizards were dead on the ground with bullet holes in their chests. The door to the observatory swung open loudly and two more figures, shrouded magically, rushed in. Amelia swung around and fired at the closest figure. Unlike every other shot she had taken this night, the gun barked loudly, but no bullet was discharged. The same for the second, third, and fourth shot. Blanks, and loud ones at that. By that time, however, the shroud dissipated and revealed Luna's father and Cordelia shouting not to shoot. She quickly moved the gun so they were no longer in the line of fire while silently thanking the magic of the weapon for recognizing allies and preventing a friendly fire incident. At that moment, vampires charged through the now open Observatory door.
The combination of incendiary fire from Amelia's pistol and magic from the wizard's wand took care of most of them quickly, but not quickly enough. When one got too close to Xenophilius, too close for wand or gun, Cordelia swept the leg of the charging vampire. It went down, and the former cheerleader brought her heel straight to its face, breaking the nose and causing it to scream in pain. In a swift motion, she stabbed the demon in the chest with an improvised stake she already had in her hand.
Slow clapping from behind caused everyone to turn around, their hearts dropping at the enemies that got in behind them through the open roof while they were busy taking care of the vampires at the door. There were a half dozen death eaters, on brooms and pointing their wands at the group, with several red cloaked house elves holding those piranha iguanas. The one clapping, partially hidden behind two others, spoke in a low, menacing voice that promised pain and suffering if it was not obeyed.
"Well done, you have managed to kill more vampires than I thought you would. You'll have to tell me how you got around the protective shields my compatriots were using, that was quite impressive. If you tell me willingly, I promise your stay with us will be mostly pleasant." That no one really believed him was a given, but it was up to Cordelia to state the obvious.
"Yeah right. So this was your big plan? Come in, kidnap a few of us, and what? Wait for the Slayer to waltz into your carefully prepared trap? You know that is so cliche, right? I mean, it's barely even Tuesday level planning. I've seen it done a hundred times already and it never works. Come up with some new material, at least," Cordelia ranted. It seemed only Amelia noticed how during her tirade she was slowly edging towards cover. Clever girl.
"I've never heard anyone refer to Lord Black as a 'Slayer', but I can assure you, our Lord is more than capable of handling him. If you come without any more fighting, I assure you you will be unharmed. If you do not, I cannot assure your safety from the vampires, or my men. I personally have no interest in bloodshed, but orders are orders." The leader reasoned.
"Wait, you're doing this for Dweebo? Man, you guys are in a deep pile of …" Whatever they were metaphorically in would be lost forever as Kreacher silently teleported in between the two groups. With a wave of his hand, the enemy wizards were knocked back a dozen feet in the air. This allowed Amelia and Xenophilius to bring their respective weapons to bear and begin firing. Spellfire and gunfire filled the observatory, damaging crates, telescopes, charts, furniture, and everything else inside.
The enemy elves released their chained monsters and began snapping their magic filled fingers. Transparent magical attacks rushed from the enemy elves towards the lone Black house elf, only for them to be caught by Kreacher's outstretched hand and hurled back at the elves. Kreacher twisted in place and popped out of existence before the lizards could close their teeth around him. He appeared almost instantly behind the group of wizards and started snapping as well. Each snap set one of the flyers on fire with white-blue flames, causing them to panic. He teleported again when retaliatory spellfire came zooming towards him. When he appeared a dozen feet away, the lizard monsters pounced, but the old, decrepit house elf was actually able to hold his own. Fists flailing, he was able to dodge the snapping maws and throw two of them away before knocking the third unconscious. This, however, gave the other elves a chance to attack with their magic.
While the elf battle raged on, the wizards focused on the humans. Remains of conjured objects, walls, statues, animals, all lay broken or bleeding on the ground from where the death eaters were trying to thwart Amelia's Browning HP pistol. Two additional black clad corpses proved ignoring the muggle was a mistake, a lesson which the surviving terrorists unfortunately learned quickly. Cordelia was hidden behind a granite table, already finished bandaging a cut on her arm that she got from a spell she didn't dodge enough, and doing her best to fight off one of the piranha iguanas that decided her leg was an easier or tastier target than Kreacher. Don lay unconscious on the ground, having thrown himself in front of his wife to protect her from a spell she hadn't seen coming. As much as she wanted to check on him, she couldn't lose focus of eliminating the threats. She was relying on Xenophilius to protect her from the spells while she continued firing at any black cloak that moved. One more went down as the bullet she used caused the stone statue the death eater was hiding behind to explode in a thousand shards, ripping through their cloak and embedding in his torso.
One death eater hit Xenophilius with a Crucio spell, going by the incantation, causing him to scream in pain and writhe around on the ground. Ropes and red spellfire rained down on her as her magical protector was being tortured, but she was able to roll out of the way. This unfortunately put her out in the open, and she wasted precious seconds diving for other cover. Screams of pain continued to echo in the destroyed room.
Outside, unnatural dark storm clouds began to gather, lightning beginning to dance across the night sky that should have been clear.
Once behind a desk, Amelia was able to get a clear shot at the one maintaining the pain inducing spell on Lovegood. His agony turned to whimpers as her bullets turned the sadistic waste of breath into paste.
Literal paste.
She didn't know what that bullet was, but it caused the target to melt into a pile of greyish goop instead of blowing a hole in their abdomen or lighting them on fire, like every other shot. The battle paused as whoever was behind the silver mask gurgled painfully and loudly, flailing around in a vain attempt to halt whatever was happening. Within seconds, however, all that remained was a sticky, smelly pile of wizard puree.
The impromptu ceasefire to witness the reenactment of the wicked witch from the end of Wizard of Oz, which Amelia thought was morbidly humorous and appropriate, ended when one of the attacking house elves went flying into the far wall, crumpling to the ground. Explosive curses, bullets, house elves, piranha iguanas, stunners, again all whirling around in a hurricane of battle.
When it was just the leader and a few other wizard left, however, the flyers began to retreat, leaving the remaining house elves and monster lizards behind. They barely cleared the slit in the roof when they were struck by blue lightning coming from somewhere on the ground outside the observatory. It lasted a few seconds before they were wrenched from their brooms by an unseen force. Without waiting to find out what new threat was out there, Amelia finished shooting the remaining elves and lizard monsters.
Thunder rolled over the island, and in the distance faint screams could be heard.
Darkness rolled off Xander, wilting the island flowers as he passed.
Anger at being attacked, rage at those who harmed what was his, hatred for those that killed his friends and family.
He was a cauldron of raw Dark Side emotion, heated passion past the boiling point with vapors of death pouring out. His blue lightsaber had already claimed a score of vampires and a half dozen wizards, his Force lightning frying another four, including two exiting the observatory's roof. They must pay for their crimes, and he was the one to deal out the pain. Anything else would be too weak, too merciful. He couldn't allow it, none would leave the island alive, no matter the cost. They would know the price of crossing House Black and of harming those dear to him.
Shouts and exploding rocks from the shore caught his attention, and he swiftly moved towards the sounds of battle. He witnessed Remus and Nymphadora, back to back, barely defending themselves against four death eaters. With a shout of fury that brought all of the wand wielders to their knees, Xander pulled the closest wizard towards him with the Force. He positioned his lightsaber to impale the terrorist in the stomach before twisting it and swinging it sideways, effectively bisecting him. He swung again, and again, hacking off limbs from the now dead corpse. Each swing punctuated by another shout of raw primal fury.
A few seconds later, Xander was satisfied enough to look back to see Remus had taken one of the remaining death eaters down, at the cost of injuring his wand arm. Spellfire continued to spit back and forth between his cousin and the evil in human form. He leapt on top of one of them, using the Force to crush him beneath his weight, breaking a plethora of the bones in the death eater's body. The kinetic shock turned the sand beneath him into molten glass, burning his bare feet and igniting his opponent's clothes on fire. Not that he noticed or cared, on either point, the pain just fueling his anger even more and his enemy's condition was beneath his concern. A mini-sandstorm blew around due to the temperature differential he caused, forcing the others to shield their eyes or be blinded. Stretching forth his hand, Xander called upon the Force to electrify the remaining death eater. Some of the lightning hit his two friends, but Xander was too focused on hurting his foe to care. He kept it to pulses, about 5 seconds each, to magnify the pain.
"Xander, Stop!" Tonks yelled in agony. It was the fact that she called him by his prefered name, and not their long running competition name of Lavelle, that gave Xander pause. He glanced at them and felt slightly guilty at their burn marks.
He was about to apologize when a blue spell sped towards him. In his distracted state, he didn't have time to dodge out of the way, and pain exploded in his left thigh as it opened up a massive gash along his leg, just barely nicking his femoral artery. Blood began to squirt out of the cut at an alarming rate. Xander threw his lightsaber at his attacker, then recalled it quickly as soon as his enemy's head was severed. Quickly, he pressed the ignited blade gently along the wound, the plasma of it cauterizing the wound and stopping the bleeding. It left a long, ugly scar and the smell of his burnt flesh was agonizing, but he would have seconds at best if that arterial cut remained untreated. He'd have to get it checked out later, but for now he wouldn't bleed out.
"Get to the house. The others are there." Nodding fearfully, the couple started to make their way to the center of the island. Xander continued his hunt, limping from his self-inflicted lightsaber wound, his recent injury adding to his anger and pain. One lone death eater, flying high above it all, began flailing her limbs when she found herself unable to breath. Xander only released the Force choke on her when she hit the ground and bounced with a bone crunching thud. Four vampires fell to his weapon before their other two companions ran. Xander cursed when he was only able to kill one of the fleeing vampires before the other dove into the ocean, but his injuries made it impossible to give chase.
A flurry of lights interrupted Xander's rampage. There was a small system of caves that he had intended on exploring on the north side, and it appeared a large concentration of the attackers were focusing their efforts there. Xander counted twenty wizards and close to fifty vampires, blocked from entering the cavern by a shimmering magical shield maintained by the joint effort by Willow and Tara. With the amount of spellfire being directed at the shield, however, it wouldn't last long at all. It would last long enough for him to slaughter his foes, which Xander started in on immediately.
For a second, everything proceeded as usual, Xander used his lightsaber, Force lightning, and telekinetic powers to wade into the middle of the fight. Then his anger got the better of him. As he was decapitating a witch, an invisible disarming spell hit him in the back, sending his lightsaber flying into the air. Before he could call it back with the Force, he was tackled from the side by a vampire the size of King Kong. He was able to kick the beast off of him, but not before being hit with a few painful spells. More vampires jumped on him, slashing with claws and fangs and blades, drawing more blood. One kicked his leg, close to where his still smoking leg wound was, eliciting a pain-filled scream from Xander's lips.
Gritting his teeth, and drawing on the turmoil he was experiencing, Xander sent a telekinetic wave of raw energy around him, knocking everything and everyone over. As quickly as he could, before they could recover, Xander ran towards the cave and the shield protecting his two friends. The barrier dropped for a second, and only one spell entered with Xander before the shield raised again, and luckily that spell only impacted rocks. His leg gave out from the exertion and he crumpled to the floor.
"Xander, are you alright?" Willow fussed over his wounds as she asked.
"I'll be fine, once I kill all of them. I just need to catch my breath." Xander snarled. He was hurt and suffering from dizziness and his pulse was racing, but he opened himself to more of the Force to compensate. He fed his anger into it over the whole situation and felt himself grow stronger.
"Hey, mister, snap out of it," Willow commanded, whacking Xander gently over his head with her flip flop. "You don't get to go all broody and grumpy, we already have Angel for that."
More anger at being hit flared within him, causing Xander to spin to face Willow, his visage contorted in unfocused rage. Willow flinched and backed away from him, a look of horror and hurt on her face. It was this, more than anything, which finally snapped Xander out of his anger completely. This was Willow, his Willow, the Yellow Crayon Willow. The memories of his Jedi training with Revan played back in his head.
"Fear and anger are not the enemy, Xander. They are emotions that can be used, just like compassion and gratitude. When you let your emotions rule you, that way leads to the dark side. Anger at injustice can let a jedi go to great lengths to right a wrong, but if it consumes him, the jedi will begin to justify his wrongs, and becomes a sith. Control, that is the secret. Who is in control, who is the master, you, or your feelings?"
Xander snatched the sandal out of Willow's hand with the Force before she could recover and swat him a second time.
"You're right," Xander admitted.
"Of course I am," Willow smiled her response, grabbing her sandal back. She could see he was back to being her Xander-shaped friend.
"No-ot to inter-erupt bu-ut can we de-deal with the-them, please?" Tara begged as she pointed past the barrier.
"Right. Can you hold off a little bit longer? I need to center myself and quickly, otherwise I won't be able to fight them." Xander asked. Tara and Willow looked at each other before nodding, intertwining their hands in each others to bolster their spell. Xander painfully slipped to his knees and worked on centering himself. Reaching out with the Force, Xander opened himself to its power as he sank deeper into. The crimson currents of the Dark side, once so powerful and overwhelming, seemed to fade to a more manageable stream. The Force itself seemed to change as it rushed over him. Not the pale blue calm serenity of the light, nor the deep red of the dark...but a point in between.
It was there he found clarity and understanding.
A list of choices he had made flashed through his mind: leaving his wand behind, hitting Tonks and Remus with his lightning, not accompanying them back to the house, and so on. He pushed those thoughts behind him, nothing he could do to change the past. He focused on purging his anger, siphoning as much as possible off and expelling it from his body. After a moment, he felt himself come into balance, neither light side nor dark side ruled his actions. He would have preferred to continue to rid himself of more of his anger, but time was against him. Completely purging the dark side from him, as his mother's holocronic echo taught him to do before battle, would take too long. He would have to settle for balance. He opened himself up to the Force fully, and surveyed the waiting mob outside the shield with impartial eyes.
He smiled as he saw his opportunity.
"Willow, drop the shield in five seconds. Five, four," Xander began to count down. At two, he used the Force to ignite his lightsaber, currently being held by a curious death eater, who unfortunately for him didn't know which end was the dangerous part. It ignited into his shoulder, filling the air with his screams as he dropped the strange weapon, causing even more damage to him. Every head swiveled to see what happened. At one, Xander began to run towards the shield, crossing the threshold the instant it dropped. He heard it rise again as he left. He called upon the Force to pull his lightsaber back into his hands, injuring a few unlucky ones who were between it and it's master. Xander gripped his mother's legacy in both hands and began the dance as old as time.
More in balance, Xander was no longer focused on killing them all. With his limp and injuries, he knew that path was folly. Instead, he contented himself with slowly whittling down their numbers while utilizing the minimal amount of energy. He jumped, cutting a broom in half and causing the flyer to plummet to the ground. Crouching low, he sent a Force push against a trio of invaders, knocking them out of the fight for a few seconds, enough time to sever two other wizards forearms, effectively ending their threat to anyone by destroying their wands and wand arms. He was able to parry a few curses into a group of vampires, causing them to fall down in pain before Xander dusted them with a pair of lightsaber sweeps.
A one-legged backflip backwards to give him space he needed, and he was able to levitate and throw several large rocks at charging bloodsuckers. A blasting curse got through his defenses, knocking him back into the rock wall he had been using to avoid being surrounded, knocking the breath out of him momentarily as it also cracked a couple of ribs. Breathing became a task for him, so much so Xander wondered if he might have even punctured a lung. As he tried to recover, he used the same levitation and push on the sand around them, effectively blinding the majority of the fighters and giving him the seconds needed to get back on his unsteady feet. Blood continued to drip steadily down his arms and legs from his various wounds, and Xander knew he didn't have much time before he couldn't fight any more. He'd just have to hold out a little longer, the Force promised him that.
Taking a chance, he once again threw his lightsaber at the mob in front of him, guiding it with the Force to cause maximum damage as it spun as a blue scythe of death. It faltered slightly when he had to dodge out of the way of entrail-expelling curse, but he regained control long enough to get it back to his hands, and in time to deflect another spell. Or at least to attempt to.
It was one of the spells that the lightsaber couldn't deflect and he didn't have the mobility to dodge.
Xander felt his body seize up and freeze. He was unable to move, to react. His lightsaber snapped back to the off setting, ending the blue glow that had been illuminating the area. Face down in the sand, he could hear the vampires snarl for his blood and the death eaters yelling at them to hold off, that he was the one they couldn't kill on the Dark Lord's orders. Xander focused on the Force, trying to see if he could use it to free himself.
At that moment, shouts and spells could be heard from the direction of the main body of invaders. Clashes of steel, the pop of vampires dusting, and the dull thuds of weapons embedding themselves in bodies. After a few seconds, the full body bind Xander was under dissipated, allowing him to scramble to his feet and snatch his weapon from where it lay half buried in soft white sand, now stained red from the battles.
He could sense, but not see, Buffy and Faith reaping the vampires and wizards like wheat in July. His girls were caught by a few spells cast from flying wizards, but they only seemed to slow them down, not stop them. Seeing his chance, Xander leaped high, positioning himself to reach the apex of his arc to pass right between two of them on brooms. Thrusting out both hands as he reached weightlessness, he Force pushed them both off their brooms, sending one into the ocean and the other into the rocks. He landed shakily, but still standing, and let loose with another telekinetic wave, knocking down more vampires around him before he repeated his leap to knock down another pair of flyers.
Whoever was in command of the operation, it seemed, had finished and sent a signal to the others. An enormous green skull appeared in the night sky above the island house. A large glowing snake, also green, emerging from the mouth. As soon as it appeared, the wizards and witches started flying away, those that were able, and the few vampires remaining from the Slayer's fury began to run into the ocean. Xander took a moment to rest, weariness and injuries almost overcoming him. Faith reached him first, her longsword gleaming bright and dripping red blood.
"Get prisoners, put them in the cells, take care of the wounded, elves help," was all Xander could get out before he lost his fight with consciousness.
By first light, the toll of last night was tallied. Narcissa and Riley were dead to the massive invading force of vampires and wizards. Everyone but Arthur was awake, and he was stable for the time being. Over two-thirds of the Black house elves were killed, a fact that Xander didn't learn about until breakfast. The invading wizards, four of whom were currently unconscious in the cellar, had brought their own elves to attack and hinder the Black elves, along with numerous Mokes, strange silvery lizards with the mouth of a piranha that could shrink in size at will. A single moke could usually tear through five house elves easily, a fact that wizards used during the first and only House Elf Rebellion of 1412. Since they couldn't recover vampire bodies with all the sand around, they didn't know how many of the demons were there, but dozens of death eaters paid the ultimate price for disturbing Black Reef.
Giles and Sirius had handled the interrogation of the prisoners, three wizards and a witch, while Remus, Tonks, and Fleur took care of the corpses outside, piling the enemies together for the Australian authorities to deal with. Some they recognized, but most they did not. They did what they could to make Narcissa presentable, removing the bloodstains and smoothing out the flesh, before taking her and Riley into the house's Cold Room to await transport back to England and America. Kreacher said he would take care of the elves. Xander addressed everyone at breakfast after listening to the various reports from Giles, Kreacher, and Cordelia.
"I'm sorry. I should have been more prepared. I should have kept you safe. I failed you all." Xander began. Fleur stretched across the table to put her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. He smiled appreciatively before continuing.
"Thanks. From what we've learned, they've been planning this attack for months. Ever since December 15th, they were hiding in some version of a submarine just outside the property barrier. When we came in, and the barrier had to be dropped because I hadn't claimed the property magically, and they snuck in. They didn't account for our schedule changes due to Colombia, so they were a few days short on blood supplies for the vampires. A dozen wizards were eaten by the time we got here, and around thirty vampires dusted to stop them from eating the rest. They didn't know who supplied them with the inside information. Their orders were not to kill anyone, but that's what happens when you work with parasitic demons." The British group, minus Giles, looked a little sick at the thought, and Xander rushed on.
"It seems Voldemort wanted me to join him, and was trying to kidnap some of you to force me to do so. I've contacted the Australian Magical Police, and they should be here in the next hour. Considering everything, I'm arranging transport back to England once we are all cleared by the doctors. Once again, I'm sorry." Xander didn't stay in the room to see the mixed looks he got from the group. Some sympathetic, some angry, some sick, some fearful.
It didn't matter, what was done was done.
Xander now had a goal. He still had to stay at Hogwarts for the time being, for his own health, but there was nothing stopping him from weekend hunting sessions. The captives had given up several names of other death eaters, including the leader of the attack who had escaped. As soon as he got back to England, Xander's hunt would begin.
Shots were fired last night, war was declared.
Xander would respond in kind.
Later that day, in the Australian hospital, Xenophilius sat by his daughter's bedside. Every member of their group was in a bed somewhere in the building, but the two of them had their own private room. He had first passed off his daughter's unusual pale countenance as shock from the night's horrors, but the doctor's report said that wasn't the true cause. It was much, much worse.
"My little moon, whatever have you done?" The tender voice of her father's sad question after the doctor delivered their report caused Luna to begin to cry. Her father hugged her even tighter.
"I was following mother's instructions, papa. She made the firearm and prepared the ammunition a year before she passed, and left it for me in my vault, to be given to me this past summer. The goblins kept it safe and delivered it to me when I got my supplies for school, but mother left me a note saying I had to willingly link it with my magic and give it to Hermione's mother. She said if I didn't, you would die. You know how she was when she got one of her visions. I couldn't say no. She was right, the ritual done on the weapon may have drained my magic when Amelia fired it, but it saved your life. I would gladly trade living with the muggles as a squib for keeping you around for many years to come. You're my papa. I'd do anything for you." The tears were openly falling from both of them. The years of sorrow and regret over the loss of his wife, and his fears over being a single parent, poured out as freely as they did last night when he talked with Cordelia.
He knew what he had to do.
What any father would do.
"Oh, my dear, sweet Luna. You have to understand something about fathers and mothers. There is nothing, nothing at all, absolutely nothing that we wouldn't do for our children. You are my all, and everything I have will be yours, meager though that is. The house, the Quibbler, my titles, our lands. Everything. Including my magic. I know the ritual you used to link your magic to the weapon, your mother and I developed it before you were born, along with another ritual that transfers magic from one willing subject to another. I will give you my magic, no arguing. I've lived a long life, and yours is just beginning. You have so much to do, so much to accomplish that I could never do. Let me give you this gift. Let your papa dote on you one more time. The blibbering humdingers demand it." Luna tried to protest, tried to reject her papa's gift, but it was only wordless sobs that came out.
They stayed that way for a while, father holding daughter, gently brushing her hair with his hands, patting her back and softly singing her favorite lullabies.
In the end, it was too much for Luna. She fell asleep knowing what her father was going to do, and she was powerless to put up any resistance. Just as she let him convince her of fantastical creatures, she allowed him to give her the gift of magic. As Xenophilius laid his most precious creation down, he quickly took out some parchment and quill, writing several notes and sealing them in conjured envelopes. Taking a deep breath, he rose from his chair and began the ritual.
His wife had left him yearly letters, to be delivered by Gringotts and opened every December 1st, and this latest one was of her reminiscing of the months the two of them spent researching and building the Magic Transfer ritual. He had been disappointed when the Ministry declared it Dark Magic before they could test it out. Just days before their trip, he had dusted off their old journals and read up on the ritual and how to perform it. He had done so with the intention of remembering his wife, the mother of his daughter, but it appeared she foresaw this very event and prepared him for it.
They never could figure out what would happen to the donor after their magic was sapped away, their theories ranged from death to diminished magical core to coma, or a score of other possible side effects. Looks like he'd be the first guinea pig. At the worst, he'd be back with his Pandora. The ritual could only take the magic from genuinely willing victims, no form of compulsion or control or fear could be used to make it work. Even the slightest hesitation would ruin the ritual. The only compulsion Xenophilius had on him was to give his daughter the best chances possible at a healthy and happy life. The only regret he felt was that his wife didn't survive to see their child grow into womanhood.
He began the ritual.
For the next hour, Xenophilius Lovegood felt agony as his magic was siphoned away. Aches and pains, wounds that had been magically healed long ago, reappeared as phantom injuries. Near the end, he could barely hold onto his wand, but through pure force of will and love for his dear sweet Luna, he finished the ritual. An explosion of light exploded around the two, knocking magical medical personnel in the adjacent hospital rooms back a step. Several nurses dashed into the Lovegood room, witnessing Xenophilius fall to the floor, his daughter asleep and bathed in a pure white light