When Harry and Ginny awoke the next morning, they realized what had happened, again, and blushed.
"We've got to stop waking up like this," Harry said, smiling.
Ginny feigned injury. "Don't you like waking up with me?"
Harry looked her straight in the eye. There was a time that a question like that - any question, really - from a pretty girl would have caused him to stutter without end. Now, he knew the answer and gave it, as though it was completely natural. It was completely natural. "Of course I do," he said. "I love it." Ginny smiled happily. "But we have to show some restraint about it now that we're back at school."
Ginny climbed to her feet. "You're right," she said. Then she laughed.
"What?" Harry asked, climbing to his feet as well and picking up his Hunga Munga.
"You're the sensible one," she said.
Harry shook his head. "Come on. Its still early, and we both need showers."
They went back to the castle, clutching each others hands.
Craig walked through the forest. He knew that the demons were watching him; he could feel their gazes. He didn't return them; he wanted the demons to believe that he didn't know that he was there. They were hungry.
That was okay. So was he.
He trudged deeper through the forest. He made no noise; it was not in his nature to create a lot of noise. Besides, if the demons couldn't manage to track him when he wasn't even trying to conceal himself, then he didn't think them worthy of a fight.
He needed a fight. Nothing cleared his head better, and all the dreams of Skye were getting to him. He needed an out.
It was so ironic; she'd been his out once. She had been his escape from reality, and now she was reality bearing down on his shoulders. But it wasn't her voice that kept him sweating at night; it was her memory. It was thinking of all the ways he'd failed her and...
He needed a good fight.
The forest kept getting darker as he trudged deeper into the foliage. It really didn't deserve to be called foliage - it was all a very drab color. Green? Brown? It didn't matter. Craig was out for blood.
He sensed what he was looking for: A little open patch of ground, where the predawn darkness was just starting to give way to sunrise. It was perfect. Craig had already started analyzing its strengths and weaknesses before he'd even made the conscious decision to fight here. Yes, his subconscious was taking over. He could already feel the blissful clarity of the fight peaking over his tormented mind and shining down into it.
Craig stopped and picked up a branch. With a few deft movements, he'd stripped it of its small branches. He weighed it in his hands. It would do.
He waited. The demons were advancing on him. He could feel their presence. There were four of them. Out for a little breakfast.
Craig's mind went blank. The first of the demons leapt out at him. Its spiky limbs tore at the trees as it hurtled toward Craig. Craig lifted his makeshift staff quickly and caught the demon with it, stopping it violently. It fell, disoriented by the blow to its skull, and lay for a moment, trying to collect itself. The other demons attacked.
Craig met the first, an Ursine, with a vicious uppercut that caused its jaw to rattle. Feeling the presence of a demon behind him, Craig leapt, turned a somersault, and hit a tree. He pushed off it quickly, transferring momentum into a lunge. His staff was held before him as he hit the demon and rolled. It had only taken a minor nick from the staff, and it counterattacked, slicing into Craig's shoulder. Craig barely felt the pain.
Instead of recoiling, like most would have, Craig reached up and grabbed the demons clawed arm. He flipped himself diagonally over the demons horned head, still holding the arm. In mid air, he reversed his grip on the arm so as not to rip it entirely out its socket. He still needed it.
As he landed, he twisted to keep the demon in pain. And, in one quick motion, he turned a quick sweep kick that removed the demon from the ground. Using this forceful parting of demon and earth, Craig hurled the demon mightily at the spiky demon that was just rising. Both demons were carried through several trees before they slumped in a bloody heap at the foot of a large pine.
A small four-legged demon came in low on Craig. He turned a quick flip onto a branch. The branch was incredibly small. It didn't hold his weight for long. The branch took several others out as well. As they fell, leaving Craig hanging from a sturdier branch, the demon realized its mistake. It was caught underneath the falling branches, which were too heavy for it to move.
Craig dropped down out of the tree. The Ursine took one look at him and fled. It would find easier breakfast. Craig glanced down at the four-legged demon. It was still struggling to get out. Craig weighed himself, and swept an enormous heel kick down into the four-legged demon. It's skull shattered in a shower of brains.
Craig looked at the ruins of the demon's head. He was satisfied. For now.
Shannon and Giles approached another house. This was their fifth. So far, they hadn't experienced a single 'no'. This one would be tough, though.
For one thing, Giles had had to relearn what little Dutch he'd picked up at Oxford. For another thing, they were dealing with the first girl who was not, to the best of their knowledge, aware yet of the supernatural nature of her powers.
And she was rich.
Rijke Lous lived in a huge mansion in the Netherlands. The land locked town of Zwolle didn't hold too many millionaires. But the Lous family was one of them. They'd lived in Zwolle since after the fall of the Third Reich, and their daughter had recently experienced some strange problems.
That was all Giles and Shannon knew. Giles was grateful for all the times making 'first contact', as he'd come to think of it, had been easy. This time would be anything but easy.
They stood outside a huge wrought iron gate and considered. In the weeks since their departure from Hogwarts, Giles had come to rely on the intuitive young Slayer very much, and he turned to her now. Seeing the gesture, she shrugged.
"I'm drawing a blank," she said.
"Well, I suppose we could stand here like idiots until someone runs us down coming in or out of the mansion," Giles said. They moved off into the bushes near the gate.
"Giles...I think I have a plan," Shannon said.
After a moment, Giles said, "Well....?"
Shannon paused. "We break in," she said, and waited for the storm to hit.
It didn't. Giles sighed instead, considering. "Perhaps that's the only way," he said. "I can't see any other way of getting into this place."
"But once we're inside..."
"We won't get lucky again," Giles said. "We'll explain to her what has happened to her, wait until she laughs, and then show her that you have the same powers she does."
Shannon nodded in resignation. "Let's do it, then."
It was nearing nightfall. The Netherlands autumn was not pleasant; both Slayer and Watcher were freezing. And, to make things even more fun, it began snowing.
"Oh, lovely..." Giles muttered, as he and Shannon scaled the wall.
The security system was alerted to their presence almost immediately.
"Security dogs!" Shannon yelled.
"Oh, drat it, I hate dogs!" Giles yelled. They both broke for the house.
The dogs gave furious chase. One of them managed to nip at Giles' jacket, but it didn't get a firm hold on him. Shannon smashed a window in with a quick blow and pulled Giles through. The dogs did not follow.
"They must have been trained not to come inside," Shannon hypothesized.
They were in a darkened hallway, which was now conspicuously covered in glass and snow. There was some red amongst the white snow; breaking the glass had not been without pain. Shannon endeavored to disguise her injury.
"Come on, let's get out of here," she said. Giles nodded. The approached the nearest door cautiously. They were about to reach it when it came swinging open.
A maid, carrying a basket full of wash, came through. She stopped when she saw Giles and Shannon. For a moment, they all stood frozen. Then, hell broke loose.
"Hulp! Hulp! Indringers zijn in het huis!" the maid yelled. Giles and Shannon ran in the opposite direction...and crashed into a butler.
The butler dropped the wine bottled he'd been carrying all over them, soaking them in expensive French wine. "Why do they have so many bloody servants?" Giles yelled as he passed the astonished butler.
Giles glanced behind himself. There were guards chasing them. He considered standing and fighting, and he quickly discarded the idea. His current situation would not be endearing to Ms. Lous. Beating up her security wouldn't help matters.
Neither would getting caught. Giles and Shannon ducked into a side room. The lights were dimmed, and they kept it that way. The guards ran right past.
"I thought that only worked in the movies," Shannon said lightly.
Giles flicked on the light to discover where they'd taken shelter. The room was filled with plaques and certificates that, undoubtedly, had been won by the elder Mr. Lous.
"Not bad...not bad at all," Shannon muttered, looking at a diploma from a big Western school.
"Let's focus," Giles said. "We do have a mission, in case you'd forgotten."
"Okay, don't get snippy," Shannon said, coolly.
Giles scowled. Shannon had a way of saying semi-insulting things that didn't insult him. It was uncanny. It was also annoying, but they didn't have time for annoyance.
"Come on," Giles said. He pushed the door open a crack; the coast was clear. "Let's go."
The room of Rijke Lous was, as it turned out, right down the hall from the trophy room. Giles and Shannon found it easily enough, once they exited the trophy room, for very loud music was issuing forth from the girl' door.
Giles and Shannon halted outside the door. "Ready?" Giles asked Shannon.
Shannon frowned, but nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this."
They burst through the door. Sitting on the bed was a teenage girl. Her hair, which was apparently blonde, held streaks of pink. She wore a pair of swept back glasses and a dress.
She bolted up at the intrusion. "Who are you?" she yelled in Dutch.
Giles raised his hands in the universal sign of peace. "We're here to help you," he said.
It was then that she smelled them. "Oh, you have been drinking," she said. "I'm calling the security to take you away."
"No! Don't do that!" Giles said quickly. When he took a step forward, the girl recoiled a bit.
"Please don't hurt me!" she said.
"We're not going to hurt you," Giles said. "We want to help you."
"How can a drunk man and his daughter help me?" the girl asked.
"I'm not drunk," Giles said. "And this is not my daughter. This is Shannon."
Rijke didn't even glance at Shannon. Since Shannon didn't know the language, there would have been no point.
"So what if she is not your daughter? I don't care. I want you gone."
This was going nowhere fast. So Giles took the plunge. "Have you been experiencing strange physical...er...boosts?" he blurted.
Rijke stopped considering escape and, for the first time, looked at Giles with something between suspicion and hopefulness.
"Yes...how do you know that?"
Giles smiled.
Xander and Andrew had bungled up two missions already. One girl had been the daughter of a drunk, and when she discovered her Slayer powers, the first thing she did was beat the living shit out of him. Xander and Andrew had barely been able to stop her before she'd killed the bastard.
The other had been a bit more tragic. The other Slayer had been out for a walk when Xander and Andrew had met her. It had been going good; the two Scoobies had managed to subtly introduce themselves. Then they'd walked right into a vampire.
She was still in the hospital from the blood loss.
The problem was the Xander and Andrew didn't have a clue how to break the news properly to a new Slayer. It was a delicate operation, one that required precision and subtlety - things neither man possessed in large quantities.
They were working on their third assignment when a message came in for them from Buffy. It contained the details of Giles and Shannon's successful encounters, as well as several techniques developed by other pairs.
"Well, at least we're not the only ones having no luck," Andrew said. "Rona and Chao haven't managed to get anyone yet, either."
"Andrew, we 'got' two people," Xander said rhetorically. "One pulled a Faith on us and disappeared; the other is in Bayview County Hospital because of us. Face it: We can find 'em, but we can't catch 'em."
"Gotta catch 'em all..." Andrew muttered, useless if ever useless was.
Xander gazed up and down the sheet. Of the fifty-three new Slayers contacted so far, forty-eight had decided to go to Hogwarts. Everyone was doing marvelous.
Except the two dunces who got people into hospitals.
Xander tossed the paper down. Oh, they were making excellent time. At this rate, they'd be done in a little over two months - a full month before what Giles had predicted. But no one would ever be finished if he and Poke Boy didn't get their acts together.
Their hotel room was large and well furnished, thanks to Wolfram and Hart. Xander sat at the table, while Andrew stood pouring cereal into a bowl. "What do we know about this one, anyway?" Xander asked.
Andrew shrugged. "Emily Druger...lives in western Sacramento...she's the last one in California, too, and then we're off to Nevada...middle class family...public high school...Jane average chick, really," Andrew said.
"Except that now she can fight vampires," Xander corrected.
"Exactomundo," Andrew replied.
"So how do we get to Jane-average-vamp killer?" Xander asked. "Preferably without the massive neck injuries this time."
"Kidnap?" Andrew suggested.
"You're not evil anymore," Xander reminded him.
"Right...kidnap?" Andrew asked.
"You're not stupid, either," Xander said. "No, wait, maybe you are."
"Arguing is not going to help our cause!" Andrew shouted.
"We have no cause! Just a list of mess ups longer than your brain waves!" Xander shouted back.
The door opens, admitting a young woman in her twenties. "I must say, even with the whole TK thing, I can hear you guys all the way down the hall."
Both Xander and Andrew took up defensive positions. "I told you to lock the door!" Xander yelled.
"I did!" Andrew yelled back.
"He did!" Bethany said. "I don't bother with locks much - too fragile - but I do break them a lot. So, could I ask how you fine gentlemen are getting on with your assignment?"
"Who are you?" Xander asked, still hiding behind the kitchen counter.
"I'm Bethany Chaulk. I work for Wolfram and Hart, now." Bethany felt like eating her words. "Who'd have guessed that it would really turn out like that?"
Xander and Andrew relaxed by perhaps a hair upon finding out who Bethany's employers were. Angel ran an improved Wolfram and Hart. Which basically meant that they weren't completely evil anymore; just partially. Every other day, maybe?
"What is your purpose for disturbing our humble abode?" Andrew asked.
"Humble abode?" Bethany asked. "Okay, maybe I'll just talk to the one who speaks English. Angel sent me. He told me to find out how well you're doing at your assignment. Finding new Slayers? Does that not ring a bell or two?"
Xander stood slowly. "You can tell him we're doing shitty." He sighed. Andrew also raised himself up. "We've botched two cases so far, and we're working on the third."
"Hey, third time's the charm, you know," Bethany said. "Keep it up. You'll get there someday."
She left.
"Angel employ's the weirdest people," Andrew said.
"You not least amongst them," Xander said.
"I'm not employed by Angel," Andrew said.
"Yeah," Xander said. "Getting back onto our previous subject...how do we convince a teenage girl that she's a super hero now?"
Andrew started to say the word 'kidnap' again, but shut his mouth about halfway through. "Introduce her to Angel?" Andrew suggested.
Xander was about to tell Andrew how stupid he was when he stopped. "That's not such a bad idea," he said, surprise echoing in the room.
"It is?" Andrew asked.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood outside the DADA room. None was sure of what they'd find on the other side of the door.
It had been several days since the feast. Ron and Hermione's relationship had seemed a bit strained since then, but through Hermione's forceful character and Ron's slowly eroding stubbornness, they had managed to avoid open confrontation. It worried Harry more than if they'd been fighting; that was normal for them. The silence was deafening sometimes.
"Well...someone has to go through it sooner or later," Harry said.
Dead silence.
"Oh, this is ridiculous," Hermione said. "It's not like he's the bloody Antichrist."
Harry and Ron both looked at her.
"He's not! And stop looking at me like that," she added. She pushed the door open.
All three walked through the open door and looked around. The chamber in which Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught had had many faces, from Lockhart's frivolous decorations to Lupin's interesting creature features.
Now, though, the walls were completely blank and painted gray. The whole chamber seemed harsher than it ever had.
They were the first people there, despite having waited outside the door for several minutes. But for the trio of friends, the chamber was completely empty.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron all took their usual seats at the back of the room. None spoke; there really wasn't anything to say.
Almost immediately, other students started to flood into the room. They all chatted happily and expectantly; Krum was not unknown at Hogwarts. Male and female alike chatted without reservation toward seeming excited. The only silent ones were Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
After a moment, everyone began to sit down. When most of the people were either sitting or in the process of sitting down, Viktor Krum entered the room.
He gazed at the instantly silent room. His gaze held no discernable emotion. He sighed.
"Vell, if you are going to be so quiet, I suppose ve should get right down to business." He paused. "My name is Viktor Krum. Call me vatever you like; I care not. What I do care about is your education.
"As you may or may not know, I attended Durmstrang Institute until only recently. My recent exposure to the Dark Arts there, from a former Death-Eater qualifies me for this position.
"Before ve begin, are there any questions?"
Every other hand in the room shot up, and seeing the stiff competition, everyone began shouting.
"None of that!" barked Krum. "Come now, let us have order. You, there, what is your question?" Krum asked, pointing at Seamus Finnigan.
"Well, sir," Seamus began, surprising himself with the title. "I was wondering why you didn't go into Quidditch. You were a killer player."
"An excellent choice of words for someone from Durmstrang," Krum said dryly. "I had considered taking up professional Quidditch, but I believed this job to be much more important. Don't you think so?"
Whether or not Seamus thought so became immaterial as Krum waded through the questions. Several were severely stupid - "Sir, are you really going to teach here?", and "Will you join a Quidditch team anyway?". Then someone hit the jackpot.
"Sir, what is it that you are going to teach us this year?" asked Dean Thomas.
Krum paused. The din subsided to hear his answer. "It is the wish of the headmaster of Hogwarts that his students continue the courses of learning begun in their third and fifth years."
"Curses and dark creatures," Harry muttered. Ron and Hermione nodded.
"And also..." Krum was obviously having trouble with this. "And also, he wishes for you to learn the use of formerly illegal dark magic."
Harry wished he'd had a pin on him. The silence that had descended on the room was so complete that he was struck by an urge to test the old adage about hearing a pin drop. Ron slowly raised his hand.
"Yes?" Krum said.
"You're going to teach us to do dark magic?" Ron asked.
Krum nodded. "It is the opinion of Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic that in order to truly understand your foe in the coming days, you must know exactly how he does what he does.
"Stand up."
Everyone stood. "Wands out, now," Krum continued. "We're going to start slowly and with the more harmless of the outlawed curses. Now, I believe you have experience with the three Unforgivable Curses?"
A slight sense of dread filled Harry and his peers. "We will not get into the Unforgivable Curses until much later. However, there are several hundred other curses outlawed by the Ministry of Magic. They carry significantly smaller punishments; the first is called the Llawe-Sceant-Droug curse..."
Krum launched into an explanation of the curse and its origins. Invented in the mid-fifteenth century, the curse stimulated the brain of the user in strange ways. However, it would eventually cause permanent damage to the user.
"Sometimes, the Llawe-Sceant-Droug curse can be put upon other people," Krum continued. "Blocking it is fairly simple. Pair off..."
And so it went. Learning the curse wasn't very difficult - the incantation was short - but controlling it was difficult. Once the incantation was invoked, a cloud of purple gas would be conjured. It took immense concentration to keep the gas from dispersing.
"That's good," Krum said, walking up and down the rows. "Don't breathe in the gas!"
Once everyone had managed to conjure the gas, Krum went back to the head of the classroom. "Okay," he said. "Here is the tricky part. Pair off and try to attack each other with your curses; beware of breathing in the gas. It will do strange things to your senses, and it will leave you vulnerable."
Several unfortunate people did not manage to block the curses and ended up getting hit by it. The first of these was Ron; Hermione's vigor had shoved the cloud down Ron's throat. He collapsed.
Everyone rushed to Ron's side. Harry reached him first, shortly followed by Krum and Hermione. "Ron! Ron, are you okay?"
Ron laughed. His eyes had gone completely out of focus, and veins were starting to throb in his eyes. "Awfully pretty room, don't you think?" he asked.
Harry looked at Krum. Krum swallowed a lump, and, to everyone's amazement, continued teaching. "As you can see, Mr. Weasley is quite vulnerable right now. His senses have all been hyper stimulated, overloading his brain with information. His reasoning centers have been shut down almost completely to guard against damage."
"Will he be okay?" Hermione asked.
Krum had ignored Hermione up until then. He looked at her then, right in the eye, and delivered a blow. "More than likely...yes. The curse usually doesn't do much damage the first time, but overuse will cause damage to his cerebral cortex. The effects will wear off..."
Ron screamed, making everyone jump. "Spiders!" he yelled. "Oh, God, spiders! They're eating me! Help! Help! They're eating me! Oh, it hurts! Make them stop! Spiders! Eating....! Eating me! Please...help..."
"The effects will wear off in an hour or so," Krum finished. "After that, he'll have an enormous headache, but he'll be back to normal."
The class remained rooted to the spot, around Ron, who was curled in a fetal position, moaning incoherently about spiders.
Krum looked around. "Get back to your work."
There were several disbelieving noises made, but Krum was serious. "Potter. Take Weasley up to the hospital wing."
Harry nodded. Ron needed someplace to rest this thing off. Harry lifted Ron up and discovered, thankfully, that he was able to walk if directed. He required only minor support.
Getting him to the hospital wing was not easy. Harry had some inkling of how hacked off Ron was going to be about the whole affair. He didn't want to add any more embarrassment to the situation by running into anyone unnecessarily.
After what seemed like eons of Ron's mutterings about spiders, they reached the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was sitting in her office. She came out and, upon seeing Ron, gave a small screech.
"What happened, Potter?" she asked, directing Ron to a bed.
"We were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Ron got hit by a Llawe-Sceant-Droug curse..."
He'd expected Madame Pomfrey to be shocked by the mention of an illegal curse. Instead, she sighed resignedly. "This new direction we're taking - arming children for war, exposing them to this." She gestured at Ron's curled up form. "It's sickening." Madame Pomfrey's resignation to what was happening was etched in her face as she turned to Harry. "Run along back to class now, Mr. Potter," she said, the sharp note in her voice noticeably missing.
As Harry left the hospital wing, he heard Madame Pomfrey mutter about how long a year it was going to be. Harry felt very inclined to agree.
Yay! One more chapter in the bag. As always, R/R. No, not rest and relaxation, though with the holiday's a little rest sounds great. Seriously, though, I want to hear what you think. Thanks. Bunker Shorts!
"We've got to stop waking up like this," Harry said, smiling.
Ginny feigned injury. "Don't you like waking up with me?"
Harry looked her straight in the eye. There was a time that a question like that - any question, really - from a pretty girl would have caused him to stutter without end. Now, he knew the answer and gave it, as though it was completely natural. It was completely natural. "Of course I do," he said. "I love it." Ginny smiled happily. "But we have to show some restraint about it now that we're back at school."
Ginny climbed to her feet. "You're right," she said. Then she laughed.
"What?" Harry asked, climbing to his feet as well and picking up his Hunga Munga.
"You're the sensible one," she said.
Harry shook his head. "Come on. Its still early, and we both need showers."
They went back to the castle, clutching each others hands.
Craig walked through the forest. He knew that the demons were watching him; he could feel their gazes. He didn't return them; he wanted the demons to believe that he didn't know that he was there. They were hungry.
That was okay. So was he.
He trudged deeper through the forest. He made no noise; it was not in his nature to create a lot of noise. Besides, if the demons couldn't manage to track him when he wasn't even trying to conceal himself, then he didn't think them worthy of a fight.
He needed a fight. Nothing cleared his head better, and all the dreams of Skye were getting to him. He needed an out.
It was so ironic; she'd been his out once. She had been his escape from reality, and now she was reality bearing down on his shoulders. But it wasn't her voice that kept him sweating at night; it was her memory. It was thinking of all the ways he'd failed her and...
He needed a good fight.
The forest kept getting darker as he trudged deeper into the foliage. It really didn't deserve to be called foliage - it was all a very drab color. Green? Brown? It didn't matter. Craig was out for blood.
He sensed what he was looking for: A little open patch of ground, where the predawn darkness was just starting to give way to sunrise. It was perfect. Craig had already started analyzing its strengths and weaknesses before he'd even made the conscious decision to fight here. Yes, his subconscious was taking over. He could already feel the blissful clarity of the fight peaking over his tormented mind and shining down into it.
Craig stopped and picked up a branch. With a few deft movements, he'd stripped it of its small branches. He weighed it in his hands. It would do.
He waited. The demons were advancing on him. He could feel their presence. There were four of them. Out for a little breakfast.
Craig's mind went blank. The first of the demons leapt out at him. Its spiky limbs tore at the trees as it hurtled toward Craig. Craig lifted his makeshift staff quickly and caught the demon with it, stopping it violently. It fell, disoriented by the blow to its skull, and lay for a moment, trying to collect itself. The other demons attacked.
Craig met the first, an Ursine, with a vicious uppercut that caused its jaw to rattle. Feeling the presence of a demon behind him, Craig leapt, turned a somersault, and hit a tree. He pushed off it quickly, transferring momentum into a lunge. His staff was held before him as he hit the demon and rolled. It had only taken a minor nick from the staff, and it counterattacked, slicing into Craig's shoulder. Craig barely felt the pain.
Instead of recoiling, like most would have, Craig reached up and grabbed the demons clawed arm. He flipped himself diagonally over the demons horned head, still holding the arm. In mid air, he reversed his grip on the arm so as not to rip it entirely out its socket. He still needed it.
As he landed, he twisted to keep the demon in pain. And, in one quick motion, he turned a quick sweep kick that removed the demon from the ground. Using this forceful parting of demon and earth, Craig hurled the demon mightily at the spiky demon that was just rising. Both demons were carried through several trees before they slumped in a bloody heap at the foot of a large pine.
A small four-legged demon came in low on Craig. He turned a quick flip onto a branch. The branch was incredibly small. It didn't hold his weight for long. The branch took several others out as well. As they fell, leaving Craig hanging from a sturdier branch, the demon realized its mistake. It was caught underneath the falling branches, which were too heavy for it to move.
Craig dropped down out of the tree. The Ursine took one look at him and fled. It would find easier breakfast. Craig glanced down at the four-legged demon. It was still struggling to get out. Craig weighed himself, and swept an enormous heel kick down into the four-legged demon. It's skull shattered in a shower of brains.
Craig looked at the ruins of the demon's head. He was satisfied. For now.
Shannon and Giles approached another house. This was their fifth. So far, they hadn't experienced a single 'no'. This one would be tough, though.
For one thing, Giles had had to relearn what little Dutch he'd picked up at Oxford. For another thing, they were dealing with the first girl who was not, to the best of their knowledge, aware yet of the supernatural nature of her powers.
And she was rich.
Rijke Lous lived in a huge mansion in the Netherlands. The land locked town of Zwolle didn't hold too many millionaires. But the Lous family was one of them. They'd lived in Zwolle since after the fall of the Third Reich, and their daughter had recently experienced some strange problems.
That was all Giles and Shannon knew. Giles was grateful for all the times making 'first contact', as he'd come to think of it, had been easy. This time would be anything but easy.
They stood outside a huge wrought iron gate and considered. In the weeks since their departure from Hogwarts, Giles had come to rely on the intuitive young Slayer very much, and he turned to her now. Seeing the gesture, she shrugged.
"I'm drawing a blank," she said.
"Well, I suppose we could stand here like idiots until someone runs us down coming in or out of the mansion," Giles said. They moved off into the bushes near the gate.
"Giles...I think I have a plan," Shannon said.
After a moment, Giles said, "Well....?"
Shannon paused. "We break in," she said, and waited for the storm to hit.
It didn't. Giles sighed instead, considering. "Perhaps that's the only way," he said. "I can't see any other way of getting into this place."
"But once we're inside..."
"We won't get lucky again," Giles said. "We'll explain to her what has happened to her, wait until she laughs, and then show her that you have the same powers she does."
Shannon nodded in resignation. "Let's do it, then."
It was nearing nightfall. The Netherlands autumn was not pleasant; both Slayer and Watcher were freezing. And, to make things even more fun, it began snowing.
"Oh, lovely..." Giles muttered, as he and Shannon scaled the wall.
The security system was alerted to their presence almost immediately.
"Security dogs!" Shannon yelled.
"Oh, drat it, I hate dogs!" Giles yelled. They both broke for the house.
The dogs gave furious chase. One of them managed to nip at Giles' jacket, but it didn't get a firm hold on him. Shannon smashed a window in with a quick blow and pulled Giles through. The dogs did not follow.
"They must have been trained not to come inside," Shannon hypothesized.
They were in a darkened hallway, which was now conspicuously covered in glass and snow. There was some red amongst the white snow; breaking the glass had not been without pain. Shannon endeavored to disguise her injury.
"Come on, let's get out of here," she said. Giles nodded. The approached the nearest door cautiously. They were about to reach it when it came swinging open.
A maid, carrying a basket full of wash, came through. She stopped when she saw Giles and Shannon. For a moment, they all stood frozen. Then, hell broke loose.
"Hulp! Hulp! Indringers zijn in het huis!" the maid yelled. Giles and Shannon ran in the opposite direction...and crashed into a butler.
The butler dropped the wine bottled he'd been carrying all over them, soaking them in expensive French wine. "Why do they have so many bloody servants?" Giles yelled as he passed the astonished butler.
Giles glanced behind himself. There were guards chasing them. He considered standing and fighting, and he quickly discarded the idea. His current situation would not be endearing to Ms. Lous. Beating up her security wouldn't help matters.
Neither would getting caught. Giles and Shannon ducked into a side room. The lights were dimmed, and they kept it that way. The guards ran right past.
"I thought that only worked in the movies," Shannon said lightly.
Giles flicked on the light to discover where they'd taken shelter. The room was filled with plaques and certificates that, undoubtedly, had been won by the elder Mr. Lous.
"Not bad...not bad at all," Shannon muttered, looking at a diploma from a big Western school.
"Let's focus," Giles said. "We do have a mission, in case you'd forgotten."
"Okay, don't get snippy," Shannon said, coolly.
Giles scowled. Shannon had a way of saying semi-insulting things that didn't insult him. It was uncanny. It was also annoying, but they didn't have time for annoyance.
"Come on," Giles said. He pushed the door open a crack; the coast was clear. "Let's go."
The room of Rijke Lous was, as it turned out, right down the hall from the trophy room. Giles and Shannon found it easily enough, once they exited the trophy room, for very loud music was issuing forth from the girl' door.
Giles and Shannon halted outside the door. "Ready?" Giles asked Shannon.
Shannon frowned, but nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this."
They burst through the door. Sitting on the bed was a teenage girl. Her hair, which was apparently blonde, held streaks of pink. She wore a pair of swept back glasses and a dress.
She bolted up at the intrusion. "Who are you?" she yelled in Dutch.
Giles raised his hands in the universal sign of peace. "We're here to help you," he said.
It was then that she smelled them. "Oh, you have been drinking," she said. "I'm calling the security to take you away."
"No! Don't do that!" Giles said quickly. When he took a step forward, the girl recoiled a bit.
"Please don't hurt me!" she said.
"We're not going to hurt you," Giles said. "We want to help you."
"How can a drunk man and his daughter help me?" the girl asked.
"I'm not drunk," Giles said. "And this is not my daughter. This is Shannon."
Rijke didn't even glance at Shannon. Since Shannon didn't know the language, there would have been no point.
"So what if she is not your daughter? I don't care. I want you gone."
This was going nowhere fast. So Giles took the plunge. "Have you been experiencing strange physical...er...boosts?" he blurted.
Rijke stopped considering escape and, for the first time, looked at Giles with something between suspicion and hopefulness.
"Yes...how do you know that?"
Giles smiled.
Xander and Andrew had bungled up two missions already. One girl had been the daughter of a drunk, and when she discovered her Slayer powers, the first thing she did was beat the living shit out of him. Xander and Andrew had barely been able to stop her before she'd killed the bastard.
The other had been a bit more tragic. The other Slayer had been out for a walk when Xander and Andrew had met her. It had been going good; the two Scoobies had managed to subtly introduce themselves. Then they'd walked right into a vampire.
She was still in the hospital from the blood loss.
The problem was the Xander and Andrew didn't have a clue how to break the news properly to a new Slayer. It was a delicate operation, one that required precision and subtlety - things neither man possessed in large quantities.
They were working on their third assignment when a message came in for them from Buffy. It contained the details of Giles and Shannon's successful encounters, as well as several techniques developed by other pairs.
"Well, at least we're not the only ones having no luck," Andrew said. "Rona and Chao haven't managed to get anyone yet, either."
"Andrew, we 'got' two people," Xander said rhetorically. "One pulled a Faith on us and disappeared; the other is in Bayview County Hospital because of us. Face it: We can find 'em, but we can't catch 'em."
"Gotta catch 'em all..." Andrew muttered, useless if ever useless was.
Xander gazed up and down the sheet. Of the fifty-three new Slayers contacted so far, forty-eight had decided to go to Hogwarts. Everyone was doing marvelous.
Except the two dunces who got people into hospitals.
Xander tossed the paper down. Oh, they were making excellent time. At this rate, they'd be done in a little over two months - a full month before what Giles had predicted. But no one would ever be finished if he and Poke Boy didn't get their acts together.
Their hotel room was large and well furnished, thanks to Wolfram and Hart. Xander sat at the table, while Andrew stood pouring cereal into a bowl. "What do we know about this one, anyway?" Xander asked.
Andrew shrugged. "Emily Druger...lives in western Sacramento...she's the last one in California, too, and then we're off to Nevada...middle class family...public high school...Jane average chick, really," Andrew said.
"Except that now she can fight vampires," Xander corrected.
"Exactomundo," Andrew replied.
"So how do we get to Jane-average-vamp killer?" Xander asked. "Preferably without the massive neck injuries this time."
"Kidnap?" Andrew suggested.
"You're not evil anymore," Xander reminded him.
"Right...kidnap?" Andrew asked.
"You're not stupid, either," Xander said. "No, wait, maybe you are."
"Arguing is not going to help our cause!" Andrew shouted.
"We have no cause! Just a list of mess ups longer than your brain waves!" Xander shouted back.
The door opens, admitting a young woman in her twenties. "I must say, even with the whole TK thing, I can hear you guys all the way down the hall."
Both Xander and Andrew took up defensive positions. "I told you to lock the door!" Xander yelled.
"I did!" Andrew yelled back.
"He did!" Bethany said. "I don't bother with locks much - too fragile - but I do break them a lot. So, could I ask how you fine gentlemen are getting on with your assignment?"
"Who are you?" Xander asked, still hiding behind the kitchen counter.
"I'm Bethany Chaulk. I work for Wolfram and Hart, now." Bethany felt like eating her words. "Who'd have guessed that it would really turn out like that?"
Xander and Andrew relaxed by perhaps a hair upon finding out who Bethany's employers were. Angel ran an improved Wolfram and Hart. Which basically meant that they weren't completely evil anymore; just partially. Every other day, maybe?
"What is your purpose for disturbing our humble abode?" Andrew asked.
"Humble abode?" Bethany asked. "Okay, maybe I'll just talk to the one who speaks English. Angel sent me. He told me to find out how well you're doing at your assignment. Finding new Slayers? Does that not ring a bell or two?"
Xander stood slowly. "You can tell him we're doing shitty." He sighed. Andrew also raised himself up. "We've botched two cases so far, and we're working on the third."
"Hey, third time's the charm, you know," Bethany said. "Keep it up. You'll get there someday."
She left.
"Angel employ's the weirdest people," Andrew said.
"You not least amongst them," Xander said.
"I'm not employed by Angel," Andrew said.
"Yeah," Xander said. "Getting back onto our previous subject...how do we convince a teenage girl that she's a super hero now?"
Andrew started to say the word 'kidnap' again, but shut his mouth about halfway through. "Introduce her to Angel?" Andrew suggested.
Xander was about to tell Andrew how stupid he was when he stopped. "That's not such a bad idea," he said, surprise echoing in the room.
"It is?" Andrew asked.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood outside the DADA room. None was sure of what they'd find on the other side of the door.
It had been several days since the feast. Ron and Hermione's relationship had seemed a bit strained since then, but through Hermione's forceful character and Ron's slowly eroding stubbornness, they had managed to avoid open confrontation. It worried Harry more than if they'd been fighting; that was normal for them. The silence was deafening sometimes.
"Well...someone has to go through it sooner or later," Harry said.
Dead silence.
"Oh, this is ridiculous," Hermione said. "It's not like he's the bloody Antichrist."
Harry and Ron both looked at her.
"He's not! And stop looking at me like that," she added. She pushed the door open.
All three walked through the open door and looked around. The chamber in which Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught had had many faces, from Lockhart's frivolous decorations to Lupin's interesting creature features.
Now, though, the walls were completely blank and painted gray. The whole chamber seemed harsher than it ever had.
They were the first people there, despite having waited outside the door for several minutes. But for the trio of friends, the chamber was completely empty.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron all took their usual seats at the back of the room. None spoke; there really wasn't anything to say.
Almost immediately, other students started to flood into the room. They all chatted happily and expectantly; Krum was not unknown at Hogwarts. Male and female alike chatted without reservation toward seeming excited. The only silent ones were Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
After a moment, everyone began to sit down. When most of the people were either sitting or in the process of sitting down, Viktor Krum entered the room.
He gazed at the instantly silent room. His gaze held no discernable emotion. He sighed.
"Vell, if you are going to be so quiet, I suppose ve should get right down to business." He paused. "My name is Viktor Krum. Call me vatever you like; I care not. What I do care about is your education.
"As you may or may not know, I attended Durmstrang Institute until only recently. My recent exposure to the Dark Arts there, from a former Death-Eater qualifies me for this position.
"Before ve begin, are there any questions?"
Every other hand in the room shot up, and seeing the stiff competition, everyone began shouting.
"None of that!" barked Krum. "Come now, let us have order. You, there, what is your question?" Krum asked, pointing at Seamus Finnigan.
"Well, sir," Seamus began, surprising himself with the title. "I was wondering why you didn't go into Quidditch. You were a killer player."
"An excellent choice of words for someone from Durmstrang," Krum said dryly. "I had considered taking up professional Quidditch, but I believed this job to be much more important. Don't you think so?"
Whether or not Seamus thought so became immaterial as Krum waded through the questions. Several were severely stupid - "Sir, are you really going to teach here?", and "Will you join a Quidditch team anyway?". Then someone hit the jackpot.
"Sir, what is it that you are going to teach us this year?" asked Dean Thomas.
Krum paused. The din subsided to hear his answer. "It is the wish of the headmaster of Hogwarts that his students continue the courses of learning begun in their third and fifth years."
"Curses and dark creatures," Harry muttered. Ron and Hermione nodded.
"And also..." Krum was obviously having trouble with this. "And also, he wishes for you to learn the use of formerly illegal dark magic."
Harry wished he'd had a pin on him. The silence that had descended on the room was so complete that he was struck by an urge to test the old adage about hearing a pin drop. Ron slowly raised his hand.
"Yes?" Krum said.
"You're going to teach us to do dark magic?" Ron asked.
Krum nodded. "It is the opinion of Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic that in order to truly understand your foe in the coming days, you must know exactly how he does what he does.
"Stand up."
Everyone stood. "Wands out, now," Krum continued. "We're going to start slowly and with the more harmless of the outlawed curses. Now, I believe you have experience with the three Unforgivable Curses?"
A slight sense of dread filled Harry and his peers. "We will not get into the Unforgivable Curses until much later. However, there are several hundred other curses outlawed by the Ministry of Magic. They carry significantly smaller punishments; the first is called the Llawe-Sceant-Droug curse..."
Krum launched into an explanation of the curse and its origins. Invented in the mid-fifteenth century, the curse stimulated the brain of the user in strange ways. However, it would eventually cause permanent damage to the user.
"Sometimes, the Llawe-Sceant-Droug curse can be put upon other people," Krum continued. "Blocking it is fairly simple. Pair off..."
And so it went. Learning the curse wasn't very difficult - the incantation was short - but controlling it was difficult. Once the incantation was invoked, a cloud of purple gas would be conjured. It took immense concentration to keep the gas from dispersing.
"That's good," Krum said, walking up and down the rows. "Don't breathe in the gas!"
Once everyone had managed to conjure the gas, Krum went back to the head of the classroom. "Okay," he said. "Here is the tricky part. Pair off and try to attack each other with your curses; beware of breathing in the gas. It will do strange things to your senses, and it will leave you vulnerable."
Several unfortunate people did not manage to block the curses and ended up getting hit by it. The first of these was Ron; Hermione's vigor had shoved the cloud down Ron's throat. He collapsed.
Everyone rushed to Ron's side. Harry reached him first, shortly followed by Krum and Hermione. "Ron! Ron, are you okay?"
Ron laughed. His eyes had gone completely out of focus, and veins were starting to throb in his eyes. "Awfully pretty room, don't you think?" he asked.
Harry looked at Krum. Krum swallowed a lump, and, to everyone's amazement, continued teaching. "As you can see, Mr. Weasley is quite vulnerable right now. His senses have all been hyper stimulated, overloading his brain with information. His reasoning centers have been shut down almost completely to guard against damage."
"Will he be okay?" Hermione asked.
Krum had ignored Hermione up until then. He looked at her then, right in the eye, and delivered a blow. "More than likely...yes. The curse usually doesn't do much damage the first time, but overuse will cause damage to his cerebral cortex. The effects will wear off..."
Ron screamed, making everyone jump. "Spiders!" he yelled. "Oh, God, spiders! They're eating me! Help! Help! They're eating me! Oh, it hurts! Make them stop! Spiders! Eating....! Eating me! Please...help..."
"The effects will wear off in an hour or so," Krum finished. "After that, he'll have an enormous headache, but he'll be back to normal."
The class remained rooted to the spot, around Ron, who was curled in a fetal position, moaning incoherently about spiders.
Krum looked around. "Get back to your work."
There were several disbelieving noises made, but Krum was serious. "Potter. Take Weasley up to the hospital wing."
Harry nodded. Ron needed someplace to rest this thing off. Harry lifted Ron up and discovered, thankfully, that he was able to walk if directed. He required only minor support.
Getting him to the hospital wing was not easy. Harry had some inkling of how hacked off Ron was going to be about the whole affair. He didn't want to add any more embarrassment to the situation by running into anyone unnecessarily.
After what seemed like eons of Ron's mutterings about spiders, they reached the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was sitting in her office. She came out and, upon seeing Ron, gave a small screech.
"What happened, Potter?" she asked, directing Ron to a bed.
"We were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Ron got hit by a Llawe-Sceant-Droug curse..."
He'd expected Madame Pomfrey to be shocked by the mention of an illegal curse. Instead, she sighed resignedly. "This new direction we're taking - arming children for war, exposing them to this." She gestured at Ron's curled up form. "It's sickening." Madame Pomfrey's resignation to what was happening was etched in her face as she turned to Harry. "Run along back to class now, Mr. Potter," she said, the sharp note in her voice noticeably missing.
As Harry left the hospital wing, he heard Madame Pomfrey mutter about how long a year it was going to be. Harry felt very inclined to agree.
Yay! One more chapter in the bag. As always, R/R. No, not rest and relaxation, though with the holiday's a little rest sounds great. Seriously, though, I want to hear what you think. Thanks. Bunker Shorts!