Harry received the message on Halloween morning, before he even got a chance to climb out of bed. Actually, in a manner of speaking, the message got him.
Harry awoke with an enormous face staring right in the eye. Harry yelled, springing up, and throwing Dobby off his bed.
"Dobby! God, haven't I told you not to do that?" Harry asked, irritably.
"I's sorry, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said. "But Professor Dumbledore has given Dobby a message for Harry Potter, and Dobby forgot himself in delivering it!"
Harry sighed and attempted, for a moment, to stay angry at the house elf. He couldn't, and his face broke into a grin.
"How have you been, Dobby?" Harry asked. Then the guilt hit him. "I'm sorry I haven't been down to see you..."
"I is okay, sir," Dobby said, waving off Harry's apology and causing his enormous jumble of clothing to wobble. "But what's important, sir, is this message..."
Dobby handed Harry a slip of parchment. Harry took it, and Dobby backed up immediately. "I must be going, sir," he said. "Tis a big day, and the other elves needs all the help they can get, sir."
"I promise that I'll come and visit you," Harry said, as Dobby bowed and left. Harry looked at the parchment in his hand. It was folded in two, with his name printed neatly, in...Harry gulped...Dumbledore's handwriting.
What was so important that Dumbledore had sent a messenger and not awaited Harry's arrival at breakfast? Harry began examining possibilities. An Order member had died...but that wasn't urgent, just tragic...an Order member was very hurt and was probably about to die...more likely, but wouldn't Ron get a message too, since he knew the members of the Order better than he, Harry, did?
After a moment of thinking, Harry unfolded the paper and read.
//Harry,
Mr. Fudge is coming today to make an inspection of Hogwarts. He wants to make sure we're prepared to deal with any crisis that may arise. I am, of course, going to indulge him and make him think that I still take him seriously.
I want you there Harry. If for nothing else than to give you the satisfaction of watching him sweat. Please get dressed and proceed, immediately, to the Great Hall. By the time you receive this message, Mr. Fudge will be well on his way by this time.
He's all yours, Harry.
Professor Dumbledore//
Harry grinned. He realized, just for an instant, that he was seeing something people very rarely saw - Dumbledore's malicious side. Well, the man deserved his revenge on Fudge.
And so did Harry. After all Fudge did to make Harry's life hell, this was going to be sweet.
Harry dressed quickly, taking care not to wake his roommates, who weren't due up for nearly another hour, and raced himself down to the Great Hall.
When he got there, Dumbledore was waiting. "Good to see you could make it, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Looking forward to this?"
Harry felt the small part of him that was still a child stir. "Yes, sir," he said, with a grin.
They waited in silence after that. Two minutes later, Buffy, Faith and Grimshar arrived. Dumbledore introduced Harry to the goblin, and they shook hands, Harry looking a bit wary, but otherwise unconcerned.
They waited a few minutes, and eventually, Fudge arrived. He pushed open the doors, flanked by two Aurors Harry didn't recognize.
"You are two minutes and sixteen seconds late, Minister," Dumbledore said.
Fudge, who was just forming the words involved in greeting someone, sputtered slightly. He looked like he might get angry at Dumbledore, but he quickly deflated and took the slight insult.
"We got held up a bit," he said.
Before Dumbledore could begin talking again, Harry stepped forward. Fudge visibly flinched.
"How are you, Minister?" Harry asked, his voice dripping with the same acid he usually heard from Snape. "Accepting the truth improve your disposition at all?"
Fudge bristled. He couldn't yell at Dumbledore. He could yell at Harry Potter. "I always have accepted the truth!"
"Then what did you call last year?" Harry spat back.
"There was insufficient evidence to conclude that You-Know-Who was back..."
"Yeah," Harry said. "My word was insufficient."
"Well, it was!" Fudge shouted. "All you did was say, and didn't show any proof!"
"Professor Snape's Mark!" Harry yelled right back, feeling his anger leave him more and more with each word. "Cedric! And then the disappearances!"
Fudge sputtered again. "I...the Ministry needed more specific...there wasn't enough to see...I...we..."
Harry found that his anger was gone. Buffy, on the other hand, was no less confused than she had been when the argument began.
"Perhaps I should have warned you against Mister Fudge's ignorance before hand," Dumbledore said to Buffy and Faith, not bothering to lower his voice.
"Mighta helped," Faith said.
"Yeah," Buffy said, pointedly.
Grimshar said nothing. His face was professionally blank.
Fudge stood, mouthing wordlessly as Harry had watched him do right after the Triwizard Tournament's violent conclusion.
"Would you like to get the tour over with, Minister?" Dumbledore asked.
"Oh, yes, definitely," Fudge said. He only noticed Dumbledore's wording a moment later. The Minister of Magic frowned, but said nothing.
Dumbledore began by introducing Fudge to Faith and Buffy. The Minister made his hasty greetings; he seemed to be somewhere else completely.
"Well, it might have been nice if you'd consulted the Ministry before agreeing to accommodate these...Slayers..." Fudge muttered.
"I'm sure that the Ministry would have come up with an excellent way to explain away the existence of Slayers, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. Fudge ignored this. Dumbledore sighed.
"Well, let's begin the tour. Grimshar, if you'll get the door for the honorable Minister," Dumbledore said. Harry wondered if any of the others could really hear the note of sarcasm in Dumbledore's voice.
Grimshar lead the way out of the Great Hall. The tour turned out to be a true anticlimax; Fudge insisted on seeing the barracks only. He peeked inside the first one, and before anyone else could enter, he came right back out. "Looks all right," he said. "Up to code...at least..."
After ten minutes of travel and incredibly brief peeks inside the barracks, Fudge declared that he'd seen enough. "Really, Dumbledore, I...trust...in your ability to manage things," Fudge said.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "You do, Cornelius?" he asked. "All of your yelling about my senility last year could have convinced me to the contrary."
"Circumstances were different then...oh, drat it, I don't have to explain myself to you!" Fudge burst out. Dumbledore's eyebrow raised further.
"If you've seen all that you care to see, Minister," Dumbledore said, "then I would suggest you leave. I'm sure you have a lot of important business back in London."
"I have one more question!" Fudge said. His anger didn't seem gone. "The American boy, Craig. Where is he?"
Dumbledore blanched. It wasn't big, and it probably wasn't noticeable to people who didn't know him, but Harry saw it. "Craig is not here at the moment," Dumbledore said.
"Then where is he?" Fudge asked. "I want to see him."
"Craig comes and goes as he pleases here," Dumbledore said. "He will not be scrutinized by you."
"Dumbledore, I may have been wrong," Fudge admitted. He didn't seem aware of the fact that he'd just admitted an imperfection, because he went on. "But you still have to answer to the Ministry. And the Department of Mysteries is very interested in that boy..."
"Mister Fudge, Craig is my guest here," Dumbledore said. "You will not take him back to your Ministry and you will not dissect him. He doesn't, and never has, wanted to be put under your...observation."
Craig, who had been tailing them and keeping his presence unknown, stepped out of the shadows just then. "I'd say 'boo!', but it's a bit clichŽ," he said, dryly. Fudge jumped anyway.
"Craig, you needn't be here," Dumbledore said.
"Well, I heard you making all this fuss over me, and I thought I might come out and see for myself the man who wants to have me cut open so he and his little lab coats can play with my insides."
Everyone seemed a bit taken aback by this speech. Craig, himself, had to suck in a large breath, because he delivered the whole thing in one breath.
"You're Craig?" Fudge managed, eventually.
"You figured that one out all by yourself!" Craig said. "Tell me, back at your Ministry, do they give you a cookie whenever you manage that?"
"He seems rather hostile," Fudge said, looking for equality to Dumbledore, who only snorted.
"You have spent the past year denying the existence of the man responsible for the deaths of every friend Craig has ever had," Dumbledore said. "I don't blame him for his hostility."
"While you were sitting back at your desk, in all your blissful ignorance, the only person who's ever loved me...the only person I've ever loved...was being murdered, brutally, by a man you denied the existence of. And now, as soon as I get to your country, you start making noise about 'finding out what makes the voices inside my head say what they say'. Well, I don't think so, Jeeves. You can take that hypocrisy of yours and shove it."
Fudge looked windswept by the vehemence of Craig's words. "Well," he said. His voice had taken on an unnaturally high squeak. He cleared his throat. "Well, I guess that about does it. I'll be heading back to the London now. Good-bye, Dumbledore," and he left. Fled might have been a better word for it.
Dumbledore looked at Craig, who still seethed. "Can I have a word with you, in my office?" he asked.
"Yes," Craig said. Before he left, he turned to Harry. "I'll see you this afternoon," he said. Harry nodded.
Dumbledore and Craig left, leaving Harry, Faith, Buffy, and Grimshar alone outside the barracks.
"So...does anyone want to explain all that?" Buffy asked.
Grimshar didn't seem forthcoming about it. Of course, thought Buffy. Soldiers don't speak ill of their commanding officers. Harry, instead, launched into an explanation of the rise of Voldemort and Fudge's reaction. When he was done, Grimshar nodded once, not acknowledging anything, while still agreeing with Harry.
"Sounds a lot like a certain Watcher's Council we used to know," Faith said. "They were pretty good at screwing things up, too."
"You explained Fudge," Buffy said. "But what was that bit about Craig? I mean, okay," she shrugged. "He's more than just an average fighter. But why does Fudge want to...dissect him?"
"You weren't told?" Harry asked.
"Obviously not," Grimshar put in, his first words spoken since being introduced to Harry.
Harry considered what to do. On the one hand, Harry believed that if Grimshar, who obviously already knew, had been told, then so should Buffy and Faith. On the other hand, though, there was Craig's privacy.
Harry was rescued by Grimshar, oddly enough. "The boy can hear dead people," he said, almost bored. "In his head."
Faith looked at Buffy. Buffy looked at Faith. And, almost in synchronization, they burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry," Buffy said. "Dead people? 'Oh, I see dead people!' Oh, that's great! Does he know Bruce Willis?"
Grimshar raised a metaphorical eyebrow. "He can hear the voices of dead people, screaming, relentlessly, in his head, telling him how they died. Some of them were people he knew. Some of them were people he couldn't save, and he can't just make their screams go away."
The laughter died instantly, leaving a stale echo on the air.
"I suppose you've never had anyone die on you?" Grimshar asked. He was getting upset, or as upset as the goblin could allow himself to get.
"I'm sorry," Buffy said. It sounded inadequate even in her head.
"And that's why the Ministry of Magic wants him," Grimshar finished, returning to his almost-bored near-monotone. "The people at the Department of Mysteries want to cut his head open and find out where the voices are coming from and why he can hear them."
"Ouch," Faith said, proving that Buffy had not quite cornered the market on inadequacy with her previous statement.
They stood in silence for a moment. Grimshar eventually left, without a word of farewell. Faith and Buffy followed, talking about how much of a waste of a Saturday morning the inspection had been. Harry left for the Great Hall, intent on breakfast and a good laugh over Fudge with Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
As he walked, Harry wondered what Dumbledore and Craig were discussing.
"I asked you not to come," Dumbledore said. "He could have made a scene and tried to remove you from the grounds."
Craig sat in the same seat he'd sat in the night he and the Headmaster had observed Harry and Ginny. "I wanted to meet him," Craig said simply. "I've heard a ton about the creep, and I thought that maybe a good heart-to-heart would convince me that he isn't a complete toad."
Dumbledore couldn't help but smile, but Craig seemed unaware of the humor. His smile slipping a bit, Dumbledore addressed Craig again. "And was you opinion changed?" he asked.
"Nope," Craig said. "The guy is a complete toad."
Dumbledore paused there. He agreed with Craig, of course, but he wasn't going to say it, not while the boy was supposed to be in trouble.
"Craig, there is something I wanted to talk to you about..." Dumbledore said.
"Besides my opinion of Wart-Man?" Craig asked.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "We have reason to believe that Voldemort is building an army...an army of vampires. In a forest in Albania. Only a select few people amongst us can enter the forest, and you're one of those select few."
"What can I do to help?" Craig asked.
"I'm going to have a meeting about it after the feast tonight," Dumbledore said. "With any luck, another of my spies will arrive this afternoon, and we can formulate a real plan. Until then, I just want you to know that this is a big risk, and possibly a hopeless risk."
"So?" Craig asked. "I could safely eat hopeless for breakfast after what happened in June. Pass me the salt, I'm ready for some tough, flavorless hopeless."
Dumbledore finally laughed, breaking the tension almost to the point of a smile from Craig. Almost. "I'll see you at nine o'clock tonight," Dumbledore said. "You are meeting Harry this afternoon?" Dumbledore asked.
"DA," Craig explained. "Potter asked me to teach his class a couple things about hand to hand combat."
"And you are holding a meeting on Halloween?" Dumbledore asked.
"Don't see why not," Craig said. "The feast isn't until six, and they all got the day off from class, so...bring on the violence."
"Be careful with them," Dumbledore said. "You're not used to teaching others to fight."
"Maybe if I had taught some others to fight, some others wouldn't have gone up in smoke with the AWA," Craig said, bitterness swiping its claws across his face once more.
"Is that what this teaching is about?" Dumbledore asked. "Don't let it be. You can do good here, Craig. You just have to live for the future, and not the past."
"The past made me what I am today," Craig said.
"You made yourself what you are today, Craig," Dumbledore said. "You can help them make themselves into something else - something better than what they are."
"Yeah, and something deader, too," the younger boy replied.
"Such a tangled web you live in," Dumbledore said, sympathetically. "You think that involving them with you is bad luck - that it will get them killed. But at the same time, you think that without your guidance, they'll die."
"So what do I do?" Craig asked.
Dumbledore leaned forward, the fire in his eyes becoming more pronounced then ever. "Let them get to know you!" he hissed, low but forcefully. "Get to know them! And you might find, Craig, that they can help you far more than you can help yourself."
Dumbledore had grabbed Craig by the shoulders part of the way through this speech. He now released the younger man. "You may go, Craig," he said.
"Thanks," Craig said, and he left.
Dumbledore wondered for what Craig was thanking him.
Craig stood in the Room of Requirement, looking at the DA. They all were focused on him, and he felt the tiniest squirm of nervousness. It never even made it into his conscious mind, but it was there, nonetheless.
Craig held up a goblet. "What is this?" Craig asked.
The crowd looked at each other, unsure of to whom the question was addressed. "Anyone," Craig said. "Don't like this one? Okay," he picked up a branch. "What is this?"
Hermione hesitantly raised her hand. "You're wrong," Craig said, without even addressing her. "You were going to tell me this is a branch, right? Well, as of right now, stop believing that. No branch here, okay?"
The DA was becoming more confused. "Reality as you seem to have accepted it doesn't work like this," Craig explained. "Its not just, 'branch' or 'cup'. You've done transfiguration, yes? You know that this can become something else entirely with barely a thought."
The branch began to writhe in Craig's hands, as though it were alive. "You see, reality is a lot more flexible then you think it is. You see magic everyday, and you accept that it works, without questioning your reality. Why should you? But here," he looked down at the branch, which was now a snake. "Here, you see that it doesn't take all of the magic words to bend reality. If you believe strong enough in yourself, then it just will."
Craig sprang from the space where he'd been speaking and hit the ceiling. He didn't fall, however. He stayed there. And he stood up to his full height. On the ceiling.
"You see? No words, no wand, nothing but you and the magic in the air around you."
He turned a flip and landed on the floor again. "That's how I beat you," he said. "I believed that I could move that fast. Granted, it took a lot of concentration, and years of practice. This isn't an overnight thing. If you believe, than you can open the door, but you're the one who has to have the strength to walk through it."
Craig looked around at the eager faces. He heard the voices well up inside him. Then they subsided. He smiled. "Everyone pick up a stick," he said.
They all obliged. "Focus on your stick," Craig said. "You have to feel your magic working around you. No words, no wands. Just use the raw power in the air around you...channel it through you..."
Half an hour later, none of them had gotten it, and Craig was beginning to get worried. What if he couldn't teach this to them? Whistler had taught him to bend the stupid stick in minutes.
And then...a miracle. Actually, Neville screamed and dropped his stick. Craig rushed over to him, to see what was the matter, and...the stick moved on the ground. It looped itself around and around, coiling into a spring, which bounced against one of the walls and finally lay still.
Craig smiled. "Did you feel it, Neville?" he asked.
"I did," Neville said, shock on his face and in his voice. "I really did. I still can."
"And how did it feel?" Craig asked.
"It felt good," Neville said, grinning. "It felt really, really good."
They continued, the rest of the DA inspired by Neville's triumphant springy thing. Before long, others were having their branches move, as well. But only a few.
Harry and Ginny were amongst those who did manage to move their branches. Ron's twitched a bit, but beyond that, nothing serious. Hermione's didn't budge the whole time. She asked Neville how he'd done it.
"I don't think I can explain," Neville said. "I was focusing on it, and I was trying to make it move, and that didn't work. So I focused on the branch, just as it was, and on myself, just as I am, and on everything at once, and suddenly, I felt it. I felt it in my blood. It was the most wonderful feeling ever. I think...I think it was complete knowledge of something."
Craig overheard this. He hid his grin.
After more than an hour of bending branches, the DA dispersed, promising to go through all the mental exercises Craig had taught them. Harry and Craig remained behind, Harry promising Ginny that he would meet her back in the Common Room before the feast.
Harry turned to Craig. He decided to just spit it all out. "Craig, how did you get to be like this?" he asked.
Craig took it in stride. "Like how?"
"Like, you can turn a stick into a snake just by looking at it, and you can beat up an entire defense club single-handedly."
"Oh," Craig said. "That. Well, its kind of a long story, and I wouldn't want to bore you, or keep your girl waiting..." he saw the look on Harry's face. "Okay, fine then, I'll tell you.
"The voices started even yelling at me even before I can remember. They've probably been with me since I was born, I wouldn't know. But my earliest memories are of my surrogate father and trainer, Whistler, trying to teach me ways to block out the pain.
"See, I'm the king of hobbies. Anything to distract me from the voices, I'd do it. They would have driven me completely insane otherwise. I embraced everything that could bring my attention away. Most of all, I embraced the martial arts, particularly a Brazilian discipline, called capoiera.
"I learned them all, and I spent some time in a demon dimension renowned for helping people to hone their skills...or die trying. I got good - real good. I was the equal of a Slayer.
"And all the time, I had the grand purpose in mind."
"What?" Harry asked. "What is the grand purpose?"
"Was," Craig said. "I was going to defend Sunnydale. The Hellmouth. I was going to move in and use all these incredible fighting skills and concentration to keep the baddies from ending the world. I was all set. Everything was going perfectly.
"Then Buffy didn't die.
"I didn't really want her to die, mind you," Craig said. "It was just a part of the plan. And I didn't really want her to go and screw up my life. But she did. I don't feel too bad about it now, though. I'd have never met Skye..."
Harry saw Craig start to drift off into memory lane. He tried to bring the American back. "So in a way, Buffy gave you the chance to live your own life, and make your own decisions."
Craig laughed, still looking a bit far away. "If only that were true," he said. "I went to the AWA, after Buffy lived. I could. The Hellmouth didn't need a protector. I lived there for six years. I was happy there. I met a girl named Skye. I fell in love with her.
"And Voldemort killed her."
Harry and Craig sat in silence for a moment. Craig broke it. "So now I'm here," he said. "And its happening all over again."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Please," Craig said. "You don't see it? We're kindred spirits. We're both different, a bit removed from everyone else. I fell in love with Skye. You fall in love with Ginny. A magical bond developed between Skye and me. A magical bond is developing between you and Ginny. Its all there."
After a moment, Harry asked the question that was eating apart his insides. "Are you saying that what happened to Skye, is going to happen to Ginny?" Harry asked, shakily.
"Not if you're powerful enough to stop it," Craig said. "Together, you can be strong enough. Now come on. Ginny is waiting for you by now."
Harry felt like asking more, but Craig was already gone. He sighed and left, trying to collect himself after the shaky conversation.
Ginny looked at the wall clock nervously. Harry was half an hour later. She usually didn't worry too much about him - she could feel him from miles away, and could therefore tell if he was in trouble - but something was definitely wrong with the world these days. The news of Voldemort's plans had confirmed this feeling.
She hadn't shared the information with Harry. He would be upset that he couldn't go, too. She smiled. One of the things she loved about him was his enthusiasm for helping others.
"But that wouldn't help others," Hermione pointed out, as Ginny explained everything that had happened the night before. "That would be hurting Voldemort, and not helping people."
"Hurting Voldemort helps everyone," Ginny said, reflecting on her new found use of his name.
Ron looked a bit sick at the sound of Voldemort's name. "Look, Ginny, none of us can go, so I don't think Harry would be too put out."
"Are you kidding?" Ginny asked.
"Yeah, that was stupid," Ron said. "But I don't want to have to go through another one of his anger attacks, and I'm making excuses."
Ginny noticed, fleetingly, that Ron and Hermione were holding hands. At the moment when Ginny was about to start teasing them, Harry walked through the portrait hole.
Ginny walked quickly up to him and gave him a hug, which surprised Harry. "Uh, Ginny, is something wrong?" he asked.
"I was a little worried," Ginny admitted. "Where were you?"
"Talking to Craig," Harry said, shortly. "He needs a friend, so I thought I might fill in."
They walked back to where Hermione and Ron were sitting. "Did he have anything interesting to say?" asked Ginny.
"Who?" Ron asked.
"Craig," Harry replied. "And yes. He's a lot less complicated then we thought."
Harry explained about why Craig learned all of his fighting skills. When he was done, it was nearing five thirty, and everyone had to go and get ready for the feast.. Hermione, however, held Harry back. "You consider that to be less complicated?"
"Well, yeah," Harry said. "I don't see why not. He had a problem, and he solved it in the best way he could. End of story."
"Harry, Craig has had his entire life laid out for him since he was a little baby. He never had to think about what he was going to be. Then he had all that thrown at him. What he chose for himself got ripped away. And that isn't complicated?"
She left, and Harry wandered up to his room to change his robes, wondering the whole time whether or not his estimation of Craig had been all wrong. The kid was a mystery. There was nothing else for it.
When Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione arrived at the Great Hall, they discovered that it was quite a bit bigger than they'd remembered it. Rather than just the four house tables, there were now five tables full of teenage girls - Slayers. The Head Table was expanded as well, now including Buffy, Faith, and Giles.
For a moment, the four Gryffindor friends were a bit taken aback. But they recovered quickly and made their way to the Gryffindor table, which was now located between Hufflepuff and a Slayer table.
They chose their seats, and sat down, noticing that they were fairly early, what with a lack of their fellow students. Ginny got into a conversation with the Slayers behind them, some of which Ginny had befriended at the afternoon Slayer training sessions she'd been participating in. She introduced her friends to Rona and Chao-Ann, along with a few of the new recruits.
After a few minutes, other students started entering the Great Hall. There was a new problem with the entrance; students entering the Hall were so shocked with its new size that they would stop and stare from the doorway, clogging things up. Therefore, the feast was ten minutes late in starting.
Finally, after everyone had gotten over the slight shock and were seated, Dumbledore stood up to speak.
"I don't have anything in particular to say to you," he said, smiling at them, "except for one major thing: enjoy."
Food appeared. As they began to eat, Jennifer Dane continued telling her story. "So there I was, in the middle of the park, and there were three vampires! So I grabbed one of them, and suddenly, I felt this weird tingling feeling, and it was like - like I wasn't scared of them anymore. I beat all three of them."
"I was asleep," Ginny leaned back to tell them. "I wasn't sure what was going on, until I woke up and tore my bedcovers in half. Then I was sure of what was going on."
"You knew 'bout the Slayer thing?" Rona asked.
"No," Ginny said. "I was sure I was losing my mind."
Everyone laughed, but Harry could see the faintest tinge of fear in the corner of Ginny's eye. He grasped her hand briefly, and she smiled, a tear forming but not falling.
The feast was enormous and delicious. "The house-elves have outdone themselves," Seamus said.
Ron instantly hit him. Harry and Ginny turned apprehensive looks on Hermione. And, sure enough... "Well, you would say that, wouldn't you?" she asked. "Without even considering that they aren't paid for their work? That they're slaves?"
Ron sighed and looked down. But Willow, from the next table over, turned to look at Hermione. She was shocked. "What was that?" Willow asked. "Slaves?"
"Oh, not another one," Ron moaned.
At this, Hermione turned to him with a somewhat hurt expression. "Ron, why can't you ever be supportive of me?"
Ron was taken completely aback. "Well...er..." he stuttered. It was only when Hermione turned back to Harry with a devious grin that he realized that Hermione was making Ron nervous on purpose. "I'm supportive sometimes..."
Harry tried to hold in his laughter, but he couldn't. He and Ginny both burst out laughing hysterically. A second later, so did Hermione, leaving Ron completely befuddled. "Huh?" he asked.
"Just making you squirm," Hermione said, happily. Ron turned red and looked angry at this, so Hermione changed the subject. "Why do you suppose there are empty chairs at the Head Table?"
"Angel," Ginny said. Then she mentally kicked herself.
"Angel is coming again?" Harry asked. "Why?"
"And who is Angel?" Hermione asked.
"Vampire with a soul who fights for our side," Harry said. "But why is he coming today?"
Ginny kicked herself again. She didn't want to lie to Harry. But she didn't see what to do. "Uh...well, I'm not sure...oh, all right, Harry! Dumbledore is having a meeting that they needed Angel for."
Harry thought about it for a moment. "Something to do with Voldemort?" he asked, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb his fellow students with the name.
"Yes," Ginny said. "I would have told you, Harry, but I thought you'd get mad that you weren't invited."
Harry kept his face hidden from Ginny to conceal the fact that she'd been right. "Whose angry?" he asked. "Why would I be angry that the guy upon whom the whole war depends wasn't invited to a meeting about it?"
Ginny laid a hand on his shoulder. "If you want me to think that you're not upset about this, than not using sarcasm would have been a good way to go."
Harry's anger faded. "I'm sorry, Gin," he said, taking the hand on his shoulder into his own. "I'm just tired of being kept in the dark about the war."
"I know," she said. She reached her head up quickly and kissed him. "Don't let it worry you."
"You haven't done that for a while," Harry whispered to her as she pulled back.
"I was saving it for a special time," she said, blushing a bit. "Just in case you needed to be calmed down."
He smiled at her. "I think I could do with a bit more calming..."
Ginny giggled. "Not in public, Harry!" she said.
"Later, then," Harry whispered in her ear.
She grinned in promise. At that time, the door to the Great Hall opened again, and Angel, accompanied by Wesley and Gunn, entered.
He strode up to the Head Table and greeted Buffy and Dumbledore. "Good to see you again, Professor," he said.
"Likewise," Dumbledore said. "Have a seat, please. I'm sure you're weary after such a long journey."
"Yeah," Angel said. He and his friends took up the empty seats.
"The meeting will take place at nine," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure that once the feast is over, you and Buffy can find something to occupy you for the remaining time."
Angel nodded, and sat down to the food.
At nine o'clock, people began arriving at Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was the last to arrive, accompanied Angel. They all went in and took seats around his desk.
Dumbledore looked around him. "Remus, Faith, Angel, Craig, Willow...Severus will be joining us shortly. He went back to ascertain a bit more about the Lake site.
"Now, I'd like to outline for you what I already went over with Severus. Voldemort has been collecting people for the past few months in order to obtain a large amount of fresh human blood. He needs the blood fresh, so we have good reason to believe that they are all still alive.
"Voldemort aims to create a lake of human blood. He aims to create an army of vampires, and a lake of fresh human blood is a great way to go about doing it.
"However, keeping the lake supplied would take an enormous amount of people, an amount too high for even Voldemort to keep up. So he intends to perform an ancient Dark ritual to make the lake self-replenishing and fresh for eternity.
"If the ritual is completed, the Lake will never be able to be destroyed without an enormous amount of Dark power. We don't have the power or the resources to destroy it once the ritual is complete. Therefore, our goal is to keep the ritual from succeeding.
"Now, the ritual itself: it is known as the Rite of Mars. Its fairly simple, actually; an anointed man uses the Dagger of Mars to kill the victims and drain their blood into the Lake. Once the Lake is full, the anointed man uses a drop of his own blood to complete the ritual and give the Lake its special powers."
"How do we go about disrupting the ritual?" Angel asked.
"There are a number of ways to make the ritual fail," Dumbledore said. "Voldemort needs at least three hundred victims to fill the lake. If the ritual is begun and he doesn't have enough, then it will fail. Or if the anointed one contributes his own blood too early, it will fail. Finally, destroying the Dagger any time before the ritual is completed will cause it to fail. Those are your options.
"Here it is as I see it: Severus knows the Lake site better than any of you, so he and Lupin will find the victims and get as many of them out as they can. You will have to find a place to hid them inside the forest," Dumbledore said, sadly. "For most of them will die if they try to leave it. Craig and Willow will look for the Dagger and try to destroy it. Angel and Faith will try to find the anointed man and kill him. If the ritual begins, focus on getting the Dagger and killing the anointed man. The Dagger is the key to making the ritual work.
"Any questions?"
Dumbledore looked around. They were all absorbing this information. None seemed questioning of the plan.
"What happens if we fail?" Craig asked.
"Get out," Dumbledore said. "If you fail to stop the ritual, then there is nothing you can do."
Just then, Snape burst into the room. He seemed a bit windswept, as though he had just gotten to Hogwarts and hadn't stopped moving until he reached the Headmaster's office.
"Tonight," he said, through gasps of breath. "The ritual is being done tonight."
HAHAHAHAHA. Cliffhanger! Do you hate me? Do you love me? Do you think I'm a flying monkey with a long, pointy tail? Let me know. I want to see lots and lots of feedback! Please? Stick around for the next chapter - its going to be action packed.
Harry awoke with an enormous face staring right in the eye. Harry yelled, springing up, and throwing Dobby off his bed.
"Dobby! God, haven't I told you not to do that?" Harry asked, irritably.
"I's sorry, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said. "But Professor Dumbledore has given Dobby a message for Harry Potter, and Dobby forgot himself in delivering it!"
Harry sighed and attempted, for a moment, to stay angry at the house elf. He couldn't, and his face broke into a grin.
"How have you been, Dobby?" Harry asked. Then the guilt hit him. "I'm sorry I haven't been down to see you..."
"I is okay, sir," Dobby said, waving off Harry's apology and causing his enormous jumble of clothing to wobble. "But what's important, sir, is this message..."
Dobby handed Harry a slip of parchment. Harry took it, and Dobby backed up immediately. "I must be going, sir," he said. "Tis a big day, and the other elves needs all the help they can get, sir."
"I promise that I'll come and visit you," Harry said, as Dobby bowed and left. Harry looked at the parchment in his hand. It was folded in two, with his name printed neatly, in...Harry gulped...Dumbledore's handwriting.
What was so important that Dumbledore had sent a messenger and not awaited Harry's arrival at breakfast? Harry began examining possibilities. An Order member had died...but that wasn't urgent, just tragic...an Order member was very hurt and was probably about to die...more likely, but wouldn't Ron get a message too, since he knew the members of the Order better than he, Harry, did?
After a moment of thinking, Harry unfolded the paper and read.
//Harry,
Mr. Fudge is coming today to make an inspection of Hogwarts. He wants to make sure we're prepared to deal with any crisis that may arise. I am, of course, going to indulge him and make him think that I still take him seriously.
I want you there Harry. If for nothing else than to give you the satisfaction of watching him sweat. Please get dressed and proceed, immediately, to the Great Hall. By the time you receive this message, Mr. Fudge will be well on his way by this time.
He's all yours, Harry.
Professor Dumbledore//
Harry grinned. He realized, just for an instant, that he was seeing something people very rarely saw - Dumbledore's malicious side. Well, the man deserved his revenge on Fudge.
And so did Harry. After all Fudge did to make Harry's life hell, this was going to be sweet.
Harry dressed quickly, taking care not to wake his roommates, who weren't due up for nearly another hour, and raced himself down to the Great Hall.
When he got there, Dumbledore was waiting. "Good to see you could make it, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Looking forward to this?"
Harry felt the small part of him that was still a child stir. "Yes, sir," he said, with a grin.
They waited in silence after that. Two minutes later, Buffy, Faith and Grimshar arrived. Dumbledore introduced Harry to the goblin, and they shook hands, Harry looking a bit wary, but otherwise unconcerned.
They waited a few minutes, and eventually, Fudge arrived. He pushed open the doors, flanked by two Aurors Harry didn't recognize.
"You are two minutes and sixteen seconds late, Minister," Dumbledore said.
Fudge, who was just forming the words involved in greeting someone, sputtered slightly. He looked like he might get angry at Dumbledore, but he quickly deflated and took the slight insult.
"We got held up a bit," he said.
Before Dumbledore could begin talking again, Harry stepped forward. Fudge visibly flinched.
"How are you, Minister?" Harry asked, his voice dripping with the same acid he usually heard from Snape. "Accepting the truth improve your disposition at all?"
Fudge bristled. He couldn't yell at Dumbledore. He could yell at Harry Potter. "I always have accepted the truth!"
"Then what did you call last year?" Harry spat back.
"There was insufficient evidence to conclude that You-Know-Who was back..."
"Yeah," Harry said. "My word was insufficient."
"Well, it was!" Fudge shouted. "All you did was say, and didn't show any proof!"
"Professor Snape's Mark!" Harry yelled right back, feeling his anger leave him more and more with each word. "Cedric! And then the disappearances!"
Fudge sputtered again. "I...the Ministry needed more specific...there wasn't enough to see...I...we..."
Harry found that his anger was gone. Buffy, on the other hand, was no less confused than she had been when the argument began.
"Perhaps I should have warned you against Mister Fudge's ignorance before hand," Dumbledore said to Buffy and Faith, not bothering to lower his voice.
"Mighta helped," Faith said.
"Yeah," Buffy said, pointedly.
Grimshar said nothing. His face was professionally blank.
Fudge stood, mouthing wordlessly as Harry had watched him do right after the Triwizard Tournament's violent conclusion.
"Would you like to get the tour over with, Minister?" Dumbledore asked.
"Oh, yes, definitely," Fudge said. He only noticed Dumbledore's wording a moment later. The Minister of Magic frowned, but said nothing.
Dumbledore began by introducing Fudge to Faith and Buffy. The Minister made his hasty greetings; he seemed to be somewhere else completely.
"Well, it might have been nice if you'd consulted the Ministry before agreeing to accommodate these...Slayers..." Fudge muttered.
"I'm sure that the Ministry would have come up with an excellent way to explain away the existence of Slayers, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. Fudge ignored this. Dumbledore sighed.
"Well, let's begin the tour. Grimshar, if you'll get the door for the honorable Minister," Dumbledore said. Harry wondered if any of the others could really hear the note of sarcasm in Dumbledore's voice.
Grimshar lead the way out of the Great Hall. The tour turned out to be a true anticlimax; Fudge insisted on seeing the barracks only. He peeked inside the first one, and before anyone else could enter, he came right back out. "Looks all right," he said. "Up to code...at least..."
After ten minutes of travel and incredibly brief peeks inside the barracks, Fudge declared that he'd seen enough. "Really, Dumbledore, I...trust...in your ability to manage things," Fudge said.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "You do, Cornelius?" he asked. "All of your yelling about my senility last year could have convinced me to the contrary."
"Circumstances were different then...oh, drat it, I don't have to explain myself to you!" Fudge burst out. Dumbledore's eyebrow raised further.
"If you've seen all that you care to see, Minister," Dumbledore said, "then I would suggest you leave. I'm sure you have a lot of important business back in London."
"I have one more question!" Fudge said. His anger didn't seem gone. "The American boy, Craig. Where is he?"
Dumbledore blanched. It wasn't big, and it probably wasn't noticeable to people who didn't know him, but Harry saw it. "Craig is not here at the moment," Dumbledore said.
"Then where is he?" Fudge asked. "I want to see him."
"Craig comes and goes as he pleases here," Dumbledore said. "He will not be scrutinized by you."
"Dumbledore, I may have been wrong," Fudge admitted. He didn't seem aware of the fact that he'd just admitted an imperfection, because he went on. "But you still have to answer to the Ministry. And the Department of Mysteries is very interested in that boy..."
"Mister Fudge, Craig is my guest here," Dumbledore said. "You will not take him back to your Ministry and you will not dissect him. He doesn't, and never has, wanted to be put under your...observation."
Craig, who had been tailing them and keeping his presence unknown, stepped out of the shadows just then. "I'd say 'boo!', but it's a bit clichŽ," he said, dryly. Fudge jumped anyway.
"Craig, you needn't be here," Dumbledore said.
"Well, I heard you making all this fuss over me, and I thought I might come out and see for myself the man who wants to have me cut open so he and his little lab coats can play with my insides."
Everyone seemed a bit taken aback by this speech. Craig, himself, had to suck in a large breath, because he delivered the whole thing in one breath.
"You're Craig?" Fudge managed, eventually.
"You figured that one out all by yourself!" Craig said. "Tell me, back at your Ministry, do they give you a cookie whenever you manage that?"
"He seems rather hostile," Fudge said, looking for equality to Dumbledore, who only snorted.
"You have spent the past year denying the existence of the man responsible for the deaths of every friend Craig has ever had," Dumbledore said. "I don't blame him for his hostility."
"While you were sitting back at your desk, in all your blissful ignorance, the only person who's ever loved me...the only person I've ever loved...was being murdered, brutally, by a man you denied the existence of. And now, as soon as I get to your country, you start making noise about 'finding out what makes the voices inside my head say what they say'. Well, I don't think so, Jeeves. You can take that hypocrisy of yours and shove it."
Fudge looked windswept by the vehemence of Craig's words. "Well," he said. His voice had taken on an unnaturally high squeak. He cleared his throat. "Well, I guess that about does it. I'll be heading back to the London now. Good-bye, Dumbledore," and he left. Fled might have been a better word for it.
Dumbledore looked at Craig, who still seethed. "Can I have a word with you, in my office?" he asked.
"Yes," Craig said. Before he left, he turned to Harry. "I'll see you this afternoon," he said. Harry nodded.
Dumbledore and Craig left, leaving Harry, Faith, Buffy, and Grimshar alone outside the barracks.
"So...does anyone want to explain all that?" Buffy asked.
Grimshar didn't seem forthcoming about it. Of course, thought Buffy. Soldiers don't speak ill of their commanding officers. Harry, instead, launched into an explanation of the rise of Voldemort and Fudge's reaction. When he was done, Grimshar nodded once, not acknowledging anything, while still agreeing with Harry.
"Sounds a lot like a certain Watcher's Council we used to know," Faith said. "They were pretty good at screwing things up, too."
"You explained Fudge," Buffy said. "But what was that bit about Craig? I mean, okay," she shrugged. "He's more than just an average fighter. But why does Fudge want to...dissect him?"
"You weren't told?" Harry asked.
"Obviously not," Grimshar put in, his first words spoken since being introduced to Harry.
Harry considered what to do. On the one hand, Harry believed that if Grimshar, who obviously already knew, had been told, then so should Buffy and Faith. On the other hand, though, there was Craig's privacy.
Harry was rescued by Grimshar, oddly enough. "The boy can hear dead people," he said, almost bored. "In his head."
Faith looked at Buffy. Buffy looked at Faith. And, almost in synchronization, they burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry," Buffy said. "Dead people? 'Oh, I see dead people!' Oh, that's great! Does he know Bruce Willis?"
Grimshar raised a metaphorical eyebrow. "He can hear the voices of dead people, screaming, relentlessly, in his head, telling him how they died. Some of them were people he knew. Some of them were people he couldn't save, and he can't just make their screams go away."
The laughter died instantly, leaving a stale echo on the air.
"I suppose you've never had anyone die on you?" Grimshar asked. He was getting upset, or as upset as the goblin could allow himself to get.
"I'm sorry," Buffy said. It sounded inadequate even in her head.
"And that's why the Ministry of Magic wants him," Grimshar finished, returning to his almost-bored near-monotone. "The people at the Department of Mysteries want to cut his head open and find out where the voices are coming from and why he can hear them."
"Ouch," Faith said, proving that Buffy had not quite cornered the market on inadequacy with her previous statement.
They stood in silence for a moment. Grimshar eventually left, without a word of farewell. Faith and Buffy followed, talking about how much of a waste of a Saturday morning the inspection had been. Harry left for the Great Hall, intent on breakfast and a good laugh over Fudge with Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
As he walked, Harry wondered what Dumbledore and Craig were discussing.
"I asked you not to come," Dumbledore said. "He could have made a scene and tried to remove you from the grounds."
Craig sat in the same seat he'd sat in the night he and the Headmaster had observed Harry and Ginny. "I wanted to meet him," Craig said simply. "I've heard a ton about the creep, and I thought that maybe a good heart-to-heart would convince me that he isn't a complete toad."
Dumbledore couldn't help but smile, but Craig seemed unaware of the humor. His smile slipping a bit, Dumbledore addressed Craig again. "And was you opinion changed?" he asked.
"Nope," Craig said. "The guy is a complete toad."
Dumbledore paused there. He agreed with Craig, of course, but he wasn't going to say it, not while the boy was supposed to be in trouble.
"Craig, there is something I wanted to talk to you about..." Dumbledore said.
"Besides my opinion of Wart-Man?" Craig asked.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "We have reason to believe that Voldemort is building an army...an army of vampires. In a forest in Albania. Only a select few people amongst us can enter the forest, and you're one of those select few."
"What can I do to help?" Craig asked.
"I'm going to have a meeting about it after the feast tonight," Dumbledore said. "With any luck, another of my spies will arrive this afternoon, and we can formulate a real plan. Until then, I just want you to know that this is a big risk, and possibly a hopeless risk."
"So?" Craig asked. "I could safely eat hopeless for breakfast after what happened in June. Pass me the salt, I'm ready for some tough, flavorless hopeless."
Dumbledore finally laughed, breaking the tension almost to the point of a smile from Craig. Almost. "I'll see you at nine o'clock tonight," Dumbledore said. "You are meeting Harry this afternoon?" Dumbledore asked.
"DA," Craig explained. "Potter asked me to teach his class a couple things about hand to hand combat."
"And you are holding a meeting on Halloween?" Dumbledore asked.
"Don't see why not," Craig said. "The feast isn't until six, and they all got the day off from class, so...bring on the violence."
"Be careful with them," Dumbledore said. "You're not used to teaching others to fight."
"Maybe if I had taught some others to fight, some others wouldn't have gone up in smoke with the AWA," Craig said, bitterness swiping its claws across his face once more.
"Is that what this teaching is about?" Dumbledore asked. "Don't let it be. You can do good here, Craig. You just have to live for the future, and not the past."
"The past made me what I am today," Craig said.
"You made yourself what you are today, Craig," Dumbledore said. "You can help them make themselves into something else - something better than what they are."
"Yeah, and something deader, too," the younger boy replied.
"Such a tangled web you live in," Dumbledore said, sympathetically. "You think that involving them with you is bad luck - that it will get them killed. But at the same time, you think that without your guidance, they'll die."
"So what do I do?" Craig asked.
Dumbledore leaned forward, the fire in his eyes becoming more pronounced then ever. "Let them get to know you!" he hissed, low but forcefully. "Get to know them! And you might find, Craig, that they can help you far more than you can help yourself."
Dumbledore had grabbed Craig by the shoulders part of the way through this speech. He now released the younger man. "You may go, Craig," he said.
"Thanks," Craig said, and he left.
Dumbledore wondered for what Craig was thanking him.
Craig stood in the Room of Requirement, looking at the DA. They all were focused on him, and he felt the tiniest squirm of nervousness. It never even made it into his conscious mind, but it was there, nonetheless.
Craig held up a goblet. "What is this?" Craig asked.
The crowd looked at each other, unsure of to whom the question was addressed. "Anyone," Craig said. "Don't like this one? Okay," he picked up a branch. "What is this?"
Hermione hesitantly raised her hand. "You're wrong," Craig said, without even addressing her. "You were going to tell me this is a branch, right? Well, as of right now, stop believing that. No branch here, okay?"
The DA was becoming more confused. "Reality as you seem to have accepted it doesn't work like this," Craig explained. "Its not just, 'branch' or 'cup'. You've done transfiguration, yes? You know that this can become something else entirely with barely a thought."
The branch began to writhe in Craig's hands, as though it were alive. "You see, reality is a lot more flexible then you think it is. You see magic everyday, and you accept that it works, without questioning your reality. Why should you? But here," he looked down at the branch, which was now a snake. "Here, you see that it doesn't take all of the magic words to bend reality. If you believe strong enough in yourself, then it just will."
Craig sprang from the space where he'd been speaking and hit the ceiling. He didn't fall, however. He stayed there. And he stood up to his full height. On the ceiling.
"You see? No words, no wand, nothing but you and the magic in the air around you."
He turned a flip and landed on the floor again. "That's how I beat you," he said. "I believed that I could move that fast. Granted, it took a lot of concentration, and years of practice. This isn't an overnight thing. If you believe, than you can open the door, but you're the one who has to have the strength to walk through it."
Craig looked around at the eager faces. He heard the voices well up inside him. Then they subsided. He smiled. "Everyone pick up a stick," he said.
They all obliged. "Focus on your stick," Craig said. "You have to feel your magic working around you. No words, no wands. Just use the raw power in the air around you...channel it through you..."
Half an hour later, none of them had gotten it, and Craig was beginning to get worried. What if he couldn't teach this to them? Whistler had taught him to bend the stupid stick in minutes.
And then...a miracle. Actually, Neville screamed and dropped his stick. Craig rushed over to him, to see what was the matter, and...the stick moved on the ground. It looped itself around and around, coiling into a spring, which bounced against one of the walls and finally lay still.
Craig smiled. "Did you feel it, Neville?" he asked.
"I did," Neville said, shock on his face and in his voice. "I really did. I still can."
"And how did it feel?" Craig asked.
"It felt good," Neville said, grinning. "It felt really, really good."
They continued, the rest of the DA inspired by Neville's triumphant springy thing. Before long, others were having their branches move, as well. But only a few.
Harry and Ginny were amongst those who did manage to move their branches. Ron's twitched a bit, but beyond that, nothing serious. Hermione's didn't budge the whole time. She asked Neville how he'd done it.
"I don't think I can explain," Neville said. "I was focusing on it, and I was trying to make it move, and that didn't work. So I focused on the branch, just as it was, and on myself, just as I am, and on everything at once, and suddenly, I felt it. I felt it in my blood. It was the most wonderful feeling ever. I think...I think it was complete knowledge of something."
Craig overheard this. He hid his grin.
After more than an hour of bending branches, the DA dispersed, promising to go through all the mental exercises Craig had taught them. Harry and Craig remained behind, Harry promising Ginny that he would meet her back in the Common Room before the feast.
Harry turned to Craig. He decided to just spit it all out. "Craig, how did you get to be like this?" he asked.
Craig took it in stride. "Like how?"
"Like, you can turn a stick into a snake just by looking at it, and you can beat up an entire defense club single-handedly."
"Oh," Craig said. "That. Well, its kind of a long story, and I wouldn't want to bore you, or keep your girl waiting..." he saw the look on Harry's face. "Okay, fine then, I'll tell you.
"The voices started even yelling at me even before I can remember. They've probably been with me since I was born, I wouldn't know. But my earliest memories are of my surrogate father and trainer, Whistler, trying to teach me ways to block out the pain.
"See, I'm the king of hobbies. Anything to distract me from the voices, I'd do it. They would have driven me completely insane otherwise. I embraced everything that could bring my attention away. Most of all, I embraced the martial arts, particularly a Brazilian discipline, called capoiera.
"I learned them all, and I spent some time in a demon dimension renowned for helping people to hone their skills...or die trying. I got good - real good. I was the equal of a Slayer.
"And all the time, I had the grand purpose in mind."
"What?" Harry asked. "What is the grand purpose?"
"Was," Craig said. "I was going to defend Sunnydale. The Hellmouth. I was going to move in and use all these incredible fighting skills and concentration to keep the baddies from ending the world. I was all set. Everything was going perfectly.
"Then Buffy didn't die.
"I didn't really want her to die, mind you," Craig said. "It was just a part of the plan. And I didn't really want her to go and screw up my life. But she did. I don't feel too bad about it now, though. I'd have never met Skye..."
Harry saw Craig start to drift off into memory lane. He tried to bring the American back. "So in a way, Buffy gave you the chance to live your own life, and make your own decisions."
Craig laughed, still looking a bit far away. "If only that were true," he said. "I went to the AWA, after Buffy lived. I could. The Hellmouth didn't need a protector. I lived there for six years. I was happy there. I met a girl named Skye. I fell in love with her.
"And Voldemort killed her."
Harry and Craig sat in silence for a moment. Craig broke it. "So now I'm here," he said. "And its happening all over again."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Please," Craig said. "You don't see it? We're kindred spirits. We're both different, a bit removed from everyone else. I fell in love with Skye. You fall in love with Ginny. A magical bond developed between Skye and me. A magical bond is developing between you and Ginny. Its all there."
After a moment, Harry asked the question that was eating apart his insides. "Are you saying that what happened to Skye, is going to happen to Ginny?" Harry asked, shakily.
"Not if you're powerful enough to stop it," Craig said. "Together, you can be strong enough. Now come on. Ginny is waiting for you by now."
Harry felt like asking more, but Craig was already gone. He sighed and left, trying to collect himself after the shaky conversation.
Ginny looked at the wall clock nervously. Harry was half an hour later. She usually didn't worry too much about him - she could feel him from miles away, and could therefore tell if he was in trouble - but something was definitely wrong with the world these days. The news of Voldemort's plans had confirmed this feeling.
She hadn't shared the information with Harry. He would be upset that he couldn't go, too. She smiled. One of the things she loved about him was his enthusiasm for helping others.
"But that wouldn't help others," Hermione pointed out, as Ginny explained everything that had happened the night before. "That would be hurting Voldemort, and not helping people."
"Hurting Voldemort helps everyone," Ginny said, reflecting on her new found use of his name.
Ron looked a bit sick at the sound of Voldemort's name. "Look, Ginny, none of us can go, so I don't think Harry would be too put out."
"Are you kidding?" Ginny asked.
"Yeah, that was stupid," Ron said. "But I don't want to have to go through another one of his anger attacks, and I'm making excuses."
Ginny noticed, fleetingly, that Ron and Hermione were holding hands. At the moment when Ginny was about to start teasing them, Harry walked through the portrait hole.
Ginny walked quickly up to him and gave him a hug, which surprised Harry. "Uh, Ginny, is something wrong?" he asked.
"I was a little worried," Ginny admitted. "Where were you?"
"Talking to Craig," Harry said, shortly. "He needs a friend, so I thought I might fill in."
They walked back to where Hermione and Ron were sitting. "Did he have anything interesting to say?" asked Ginny.
"Who?" Ron asked.
"Craig," Harry replied. "And yes. He's a lot less complicated then we thought."
Harry explained about why Craig learned all of his fighting skills. When he was done, it was nearing five thirty, and everyone had to go and get ready for the feast.. Hermione, however, held Harry back. "You consider that to be less complicated?"
"Well, yeah," Harry said. "I don't see why not. He had a problem, and he solved it in the best way he could. End of story."
"Harry, Craig has had his entire life laid out for him since he was a little baby. He never had to think about what he was going to be. Then he had all that thrown at him. What he chose for himself got ripped away. And that isn't complicated?"
She left, and Harry wandered up to his room to change his robes, wondering the whole time whether or not his estimation of Craig had been all wrong. The kid was a mystery. There was nothing else for it.
When Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione arrived at the Great Hall, they discovered that it was quite a bit bigger than they'd remembered it. Rather than just the four house tables, there were now five tables full of teenage girls - Slayers. The Head Table was expanded as well, now including Buffy, Faith, and Giles.
For a moment, the four Gryffindor friends were a bit taken aback. But they recovered quickly and made their way to the Gryffindor table, which was now located between Hufflepuff and a Slayer table.
They chose their seats, and sat down, noticing that they were fairly early, what with a lack of their fellow students. Ginny got into a conversation with the Slayers behind them, some of which Ginny had befriended at the afternoon Slayer training sessions she'd been participating in. She introduced her friends to Rona and Chao-Ann, along with a few of the new recruits.
After a few minutes, other students started entering the Great Hall. There was a new problem with the entrance; students entering the Hall were so shocked with its new size that they would stop and stare from the doorway, clogging things up. Therefore, the feast was ten minutes late in starting.
Finally, after everyone had gotten over the slight shock and were seated, Dumbledore stood up to speak.
"I don't have anything in particular to say to you," he said, smiling at them, "except for one major thing: enjoy."
Food appeared. As they began to eat, Jennifer Dane continued telling her story. "So there I was, in the middle of the park, and there were three vampires! So I grabbed one of them, and suddenly, I felt this weird tingling feeling, and it was like - like I wasn't scared of them anymore. I beat all three of them."
"I was asleep," Ginny leaned back to tell them. "I wasn't sure what was going on, until I woke up and tore my bedcovers in half. Then I was sure of what was going on."
"You knew 'bout the Slayer thing?" Rona asked.
"No," Ginny said. "I was sure I was losing my mind."
Everyone laughed, but Harry could see the faintest tinge of fear in the corner of Ginny's eye. He grasped her hand briefly, and she smiled, a tear forming but not falling.
The feast was enormous and delicious. "The house-elves have outdone themselves," Seamus said.
Ron instantly hit him. Harry and Ginny turned apprehensive looks on Hermione. And, sure enough... "Well, you would say that, wouldn't you?" she asked. "Without even considering that they aren't paid for their work? That they're slaves?"
Ron sighed and looked down. But Willow, from the next table over, turned to look at Hermione. She was shocked. "What was that?" Willow asked. "Slaves?"
"Oh, not another one," Ron moaned.
At this, Hermione turned to him with a somewhat hurt expression. "Ron, why can't you ever be supportive of me?"
Ron was taken completely aback. "Well...er..." he stuttered. It was only when Hermione turned back to Harry with a devious grin that he realized that Hermione was making Ron nervous on purpose. "I'm supportive sometimes..."
Harry tried to hold in his laughter, but he couldn't. He and Ginny both burst out laughing hysterically. A second later, so did Hermione, leaving Ron completely befuddled. "Huh?" he asked.
"Just making you squirm," Hermione said, happily. Ron turned red and looked angry at this, so Hermione changed the subject. "Why do you suppose there are empty chairs at the Head Table?"
"Angel," Ginny said. Then she mentally kicked herself.
"Angel is coming again?" Harry asked. "Why?"
"And who is Angel?" Hermione asked.
"Vampire with a soul who fights for our side," Harry said. "But why is he coming today?"
Ginny kicked herself again. She didn't want to lie to Harry. But she didn't see what to do. "Uh...well, I'm not sure...oh, all right, Harry! Dumbledore is having a meeting that they needed Angel for."
Harry thought about it for a moment. "Something to do with Voldemort?" he asked, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb his fellow students with the name.
"Yes," Ginny said. "I would have told you, Harry, but I thought you'd get mad that you weren't invited."
Harry kept his face hidden from Ginny to conceal the fact that she'd been right. "Whose angry?" he asked. "Why would I be angry that the guy upon whom the whole war depends wasn't invited to a meeting about it?"
Ginny laid a hand on his shoulder. "If you want me to think that you're not upset about this, than not using sarcasm would have been a good way to go."
Harry's anger faded. "I'm sorry, Gin," he said, taking the hand on his shoulder into his own. "I'm just tired of being kept in the dark about the war."
"I know," she said. She reached her head up quickly and kissed him. "Don't let it worry you."
"You haven't done that for a while," Harry whispered to her as she pulled back.
"I was saving it for a special time," she said, blushing a bit. "Just in case you needed to be calmed down."
He smiled at her. "I think I could do with a bit more calming..."
Ginny giggled. "Not in public, Harry!" she said.
"Later, then," Harry whispered in her ear.
She grinned in promise. At that time, the door to the Great Hall opened again, and Angel, accompanied by Wesley and Gunn, entered.
He strode up to the Head Table and greeted Buffy and Dumbledore. "Good to see you again, Professor," he said.
"Likewise," Dumbledore said. "Have a seat, please. I'm sure you're weary after such a long journey."
"Yeah," Angel said. He and his friends took up the empty seats.
"The meeting will take place at nine," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure that once the feast is over, you and Buffy can find something to occupy you for the remaining time."
Angel nodded, and sat down to the food.
At nine o'clock, people began arriving at Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was the last to arrive, accompanied Angel. They all went in and took seats around his desk.
Dumbledore looked around him. "Remus, Faith, Angel, Craig, Willow...Severus will be joining us shortly. He went back to ascertain a bit more about the Lake site.
"Now, I'd like to outline for you what I already went over with Severus. Voldemort has been collecting people for the past few months in order to obtain a large amount of fresh human blood. He needs the blood fresh, so we have good reason to believe that they are all still alive.
"Voldemort aims to create a lake of human blood. He aims to create an army of vampires, and a lake of fresh human blood is a great way to go about doing it.
"However, keeping the lake supplied would take an enormous amount of people, an amount too high for even Voldemort to keep up. So he intends to perform an ancient Dark ritual to make the lake self-replenishing and fresh for eternity.
"If the ritual is completed, the Lake will never be able to be destroyed without an enormous amount of Dark power. We don't have the power or the resources to destroy it once the ritual is complete. Therefore, our goal is to keep the ritual from succeeding.
"Now, the ritual itself: it is known as the Rite of Mars. Its fairly simple, actually; an anointed man uses the Dagger of Mars to kill the victims and drain their blood into the Lake. Once the Lake is full, the anointed man uses a drop of his own blood to complete the ritual and give the Lake its special powers."
"How do we go about disrupting the ritual?" Angel asked.
"There are a number of ways to make the ritual fail," Dumbledore said. "Voldemort needs at least three hundred victims to fill the lake. If the ritual is begun and he doesn't have enough, then it will fail. Or if the anointed one contributes his own blood too early, it will fail. Finally, destroying the Dagger any time before the ritual is completed will cause it to fail. Those are your options.
"Here it is as I see it: Severus knows the Lake site better than any of you, so he and Lupin will find the victims and get as many of them out as they can. You will have to find a place to hid them inside the forest," Dumbledore said, sadly. "For most of them will die if they try to leave it. Craig and Willow will look for the Dagger and try to destroy it. Angel and Faith will try to find the anointed man and kill him. If the ritual begins, focus on getting the Dagger and killing the anointed man. The Dagger is the key to making the ritual work.
"Any questions?"
Dumbledore looked around. They were all absorbing this information. None seemed questioning of the plan.
"What happens if we fail?" Craig asked.
"Get out," Dumbledore said. "If you fail to stop the ritual, then there is nothing you can do."
Just then, Snape burst into the room. He seemed a bit windswept, as though he had just gotten to Hogwarts and hadn't stopped moving until he reached the Headmaster's office.
"Tonight," he said, through gasps of breath. "The ritual is being done tonight."
HAHAHAHAHA. Cliffhanger! Do you hate me? Do you love me? Do you think I'm a flying monkey with a long, pointy tail? Let me know. I want to see lots and lots of feedback! Please? Stick around for the next chapter - its going to be action packed.