A/N: Thanks to all those who have taken the time to email or review. However, there is one exception to the rule that I think should be mentioned before we go on.
To the coward who not only left a disgusting flame under the guise of 'honest opinions', but didn't leave an email address: I find it hard to take your opinions seriously when you lack the ability to spell 'Buffy' properly.
Furthermore, if you really have that big a problem with the story, leave your email address next time. I *dare* you. You want to take me on? At least give me the opportunity to respond in a way other than in authors notes. Also, it appears you are rather outnumbered, considering the amount of positive feedback I've had so far.
In future, remove head from sphincter, *then* review.
Apologies to everyone else that I even had to *put* this here. 99.9% of my reviewers have been utterly brilliant, and it is very much appreciated. : )
Any subsequent flames will be publicly mocked in the forums, then used to crispy-fry vampires and other assorted demons. Possibly marshmallows. Because I too can be callous and strange.
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Chapter 13: Prophecies, Enemies, Questions.
#Hogwarts#
Breakfast at Hogwarts was never a subdued affair, and this morning was no different. The four house tables were filled with chattering students, a sea of house colors drifting on a horizon of black, white and grey. The ceiling of the Great Hall shone robin's egg blue, the magically created sunshine invading every corner and casting out the dark shadows.
As always, Draco Malfoy could be seen holding court at the Slytherin table. Beside him, Pansy Parkinson was chattering – no, screeching – in his ear, occasionally pressing her body to his in what he assumed was an attempt at seduction. A month ago, Draco would have been only too happy to play along, to act interested in Pansy's vapid gossip – perhaps even to allow her to come to his private room at night.
Now, his heart was elsewhere – and his eyes kept scanning the Gryffindor table for a familiar blonde head, conspicuously absent. He wasn't the only one.
From the staff table, Snape kept a watchful eye on the doors, waiting for Lily Asher – the Slayer – to join Potter and his equally insufferable friends at the Gryffindor table. Each time the heavy doors swung open, he looked up in what he hoped was his usual fear-inducing manner.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron was alternating between staring at Snape, and cramming more food than was humanely possible into his mouth. Ginny, Harry and Hermione were looking on with horrified fascination.
" Mmphat's upht wif Schnape?" Ron mumbled, devouring a whole sausage in one gulp. The others just stared blankly. Swigging from a goblet of pumpkin juice, Ron tried again.
" What's up with Snape? He looks like he sat on his wand by mistake. And might I add how not brilliant it is to see him? We've got double bloody Potions first thing! Pass the eggs, Gin."
Ginny grinned as Ron shoveled scrambled eggs onto his plate. Anyone would think her brother didn't get fed at home, the way he ate. Before anyone could answer, Ron had turned his attention back to his breakfast.
Harry shot a quick glance at the doors, then turned to Hermione, who was looking a little green.
" I thought you said Lily was right behind you when you came down?" Hermione forced her eyes away from Ron, focusing on Harry instead.
" I think she wanted to finish that essay for Snape before class – last I saw she was headed for the library. Ron, you'll be sick if you keep eating like that!"
Ginny leant across Harry, tucking her hair behind her ears. " It works better if you just ignore him. He'll either stop eating, or throw up. My bet's on option B."
There was the audible sound of a fork clattering to the floor: Ron gulped, a horrified look on his face. " Snape? Essay? What essay?"
It was times like these that Hermione wanted to roll her eyes in frustration. So she did.
" Two feet on the properties and uses of bicorn powder in healing potions – remember? You didn't forget again!"
Ron had. "Er…possibly. Hermione, you've done it, right? So if you let me just look at it, for reference…"
Harry and Ginny watched as the two began a familiar argument; Ron pleading, Hermione telling him he'd never learn if she did all his work for him. Unsurprisingly, Hermione eventually pulled her finished essay from her bag and handed it to Ron, who forgot his breakfast and rushed from the Great Hall.
As the doors began to close, Harry was relieved to see Lily slip in silently through the gap and head toward the group, her robes and bag slung over one shoulder, and what appeared to be a newly-completed essay in her hand. He didn't notice the silver eyes that followed the petite Gryffindor as she dumped her things unceremoniously on the floor and sat opposite him, eyes lighting up in a smile.
" Hey guys…what's up with Ron? Being all procrastinate-y again? He looked kinda green."
Despite her light tone, Harry couldn't help but notice the faint circles under her eyes. He could feel Snape's eyes on them from the staff table – the greasy git was probably looking for another excuse to take points from Gryffindor. For what – chewing with their mouths open?
"Harry?"
Jolting back to reality, Harry realized he'd been staring at Lily – again. Well, if she *insisted* on wearing her tie loose and her shirt half open under her school jumper….oh. Staring. Harry felt a flush creep up his neck.
Luckily for him, Lily just grinned. " Is there musty book dust in my hair?"
From somewhere in the school, a bell rang signifying the start of morning classes, and saving Harry from his embarrassment. He moved with the others as they pulled on their robes and headed toward Snape's classroom, Ginny disappearing with a group of fifth years.
Harry only just had time to slide into his seat before Ron appeared, clutching a parchment filled with untidy scrawl and panting breathlessly. Close on his heels was Snape, sweeping into the room like an overgrown bat and eyeing the class in his usual poisonous manner.
Without a word, Snape flicked his wand and yet another list of ingredients appeared on the board.
"There will be no talking. Miss Granger, if you attempt to help Mister Longbottom with *anything*, I shall deduct fifty points from your house. Each." Harry felt Lily stiffen beside him. Thankfully, Snape ignored them, his eyes on the pile of essays in front of him.
"You may begin."
***
Was it her imagination, or was Snape watching her very closely? Lily measured out mandrake root carefully, trying to ignore the Professor. Since the Boggart incident, Snape had barely glanced her way. This new eagle-eye made her skin prickle.
Worse, he wasn't the only one. Maybe the staring was contagious – across the room, Malfoy was practically boring holes in her with those silver eyes. Altogether, she was thoroughly wigged. Biting back the urge to deck the stare-happy Slytherin, she continued to mix and chop, jumping when Snape finally addressed the class.
" You should have before you a rose pink mixture, faintly luminescent. Bottle the contents and bring them to me for inspection. No talking."
Lily looked down, blinking in surprise when she saw almost exactly what Professor Cranky had described. There was a low curse from Ron, who was stirring a lumpy, bright orange mess furiously. Harry's was a little better, but more bubblegum pink than rose.
One of the Slytherins – Pansy maybe – screeched as Crabbe missed the opening of his flask, spraying his concoction everywhere. The acid green solution promptly dissolved whatever it touched.
Including a chunk of Snape's greasy hair.
Lily couldn't stop the snort that escaped from her mouth. The most feared Professor in the school now had a fluffy bald patch over one ear. He looked a little like Principal Snyder, emu sized bug definitely included.
Wait – Principal who? Where had *that* come from? Lily couldn't remember who'd said it, but the voice was clearly there inside her head.
* How about because you're a tiny, impotent Nazi with a bug up his butt the size of an emu?*
"Miss Asher."
Said evil emu was currently glaring at her. Uh-oh. She knew that face. Had she said the Nazi thing out loud? Nobody was looking at her in the way that usually meant they needed a translation. Phew!
" Detention. Eight o'clock tonight." Crap! Snape was so mad, she could see his nose hairs flaring from across the room. Dumbledore was SO not gonna be thrilled about this.
As long as this one didn't end up with her being speared on the wrong end of a pointy sword. Cos that was the kind of fun that's *not*.
Once they were outside, Ron tapped her on the shoulder, glancing around to make sure Snape was out of earshot.
"What's an emu?"
Lily had to fight back the urge to groan.
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#Sunnydale#
"Aha!"
Heads raised at Giles's exclamation as if hope had lit a match in a dark room. The deafening silence of anticipation lingered in the air, all present waiting for some explanation. When nothing came, Xander frowned.
" Was that ' aha, I've made a startling discovery; or aha, I think I've been knocked out one too many times and am bleeding from my brainstem?' For those of us who don't speak Giles, a translation would be nice."
Wesley rose to look at the page Giles was studying, his eyes scanning the lines.
"Of course! How could we have missed this?"
"Hello? Not all of us can read in ancient languages that *aren't* Pig Latin. Et-gay with-hay e-thay explaining-yay?"
From the overstuffed sofa, Dawn stared at him, smirking in a way that was so entirely Buffy it made Xander's eyes sting. " You can read Pig Latin but you can't say it right? How does that work?"
Xander reddened and quickly tried to redeem himself. " G-Man? Please explain?"
" It appears there was more to the prophecy than the Council originally thought. In the fourteenth century, an obscure order of Tibetan monks uncovered an original document in the cellars of their monastery, containing both the entire prophecy and an explanation of what each line meant."
"Kind of like Cliff's Notes, if Cliff had a ten times great grandfather who dabbled in the occult."
"Exactly, Xander, although I doubt whether this Cliff was fluent in ancient languages. Unfortunately, fire destroyed a great deal of the Order, the original prophecy included. It was only when the site was excavated last year in preparation for redevelopment that the writings of these monks were found, and archived in the British Museum's collection."
Willow bit her lip thoughtfully. " So, that's of the good right? We can just give them a call and say hey, how about lending us this really valuable bit of ancient history so we can stop an icky demonic force from ending the world, again."
Silence.
"Or not." She turned to Giles. "Can't you call in a favor or something? Yank their strings really hard?"
Anya snorted at the choice phrasing, but thankfully didn't comment. Giles simply blinked, then sighed.
" I wish it were that simple. The archives are most likely closed to public viewing. Generally, a copy is scanned to the Museum computers, then…"
Willow interrupted, her eyes gleaming." Oh! Maybe it is that simple, Giles. If their computers are linked to a network, and one of those is linked to the Internet…" She was typing furiously as she spoke, her eyes never leaving the screen. Wes looked rather skeptical.
"Surely the Museum wouldn't leave their sensitive material in a place where the average..." There was a loud beep from Willow's laptop, and the witch grinned in delight.
" I'm in!"
Spike raised his scarred eyebrow at Wesley. " Might want to rethink that statement, Watcher-Lite."
" I was only saying that they would surely have complicated barriers in place to prevent this sort of thing from happening."
Her eyes fixed on the screen, Willow replied absentmindedly. " They do – I gave the system a little magical nudge to speed things up." She missed the concerned look that passed between Tara and Giles. " Now, if I were a prophecy, where would I be?"
Minutes later, the printer began to spit out neatly typed sheets. Willow handed them around with a look of triumph. Wesley gave a low whistle. Giles was silent for a moment, then removed his glasses slowly.
Anya glanced reproachfully at Willow. " You couldn't have used some leftover magic to translate them for us little people?"
Willow looked as though she was about to do just that. Glancing again at Tara, Giles quickly intervened.
"That's not necessary, Willow. If you'll give me a minute, I'll be happy to translate." Giles re-read the prophecy carefully before continuing. " The first part appears to be identical to what we already know; however there are some new verses in between."
Haltingly, Giles began to read.
"Blood of the Chosen given freely,
Puzzle of Dark shall be made whole
Revived with a gift of blood and torture
He shall rise to reign once more
Then we have the new verses. Er - Bringer of Light created unknowing
Sheltered by a Prophet until the, er…is that… Kalvros?
M-matched by Defeator who is of living name
Each strong with that which is not their own
Birds of a feather bind together
Bringer to Defeator, both to Dark
Light carries Dark though Dark repels Light
Seven with one shall make union whole.
Gift of the Chosen cannot be returned
Nor matched by another whose name rings trust
When Isthmus appears to reign o'er above
Battle is lost in the Dell of Sun.
Betrayer shall kill to split Light from Dark
Light flares and Dragonblood flows once more
Strength of one no match for Dark
Strength of many shall conquer all."
The Scoobies and assorted hangers-on were stunned, each of them trying to make sense of what they'd just heard. In the silence that followed, a pin the size of the Empire State Building could have fallen through the roof without anyone noticing.
It was only when six feet of furious vampire hurtled through the front doorway that anyone looked up. Behind him, Cordelia was trying tearfully to explain…something. Angel appeared in no mood to listen to reason.
" Did you think I wouldn't find out? That I wouldn't CARE that you had a vision of Buffy and didn't think it important enough to TELL me? Were you EVER going to tell me?"
Wesley stood, looking as though he'd rather be captured by a demon, cut open and used for a ritual sacrifice then have to face the irate vampire. " Angel, there's really no need to be angry at Cordelia…."
He shrank back as Angel stalked toward him, eyes flashing yellow. " I suppose you were in on this too? Everybody but me knew?"
" I didn't know, Angel! Don't bite me!" Anya piped up helpfully.
Angel ignored her, watching as Wes lowered his eyes. " I-if you just let m-me explain…"
Angel growled, pulling back and punching Wes in the face. Cordelia immediately ran to Wesley's aid, glaring at Angel.
"What the *hell* is your damage?"
At Cordelia's furious remark, Angel seemed to snap back to reality. He stared for a moment at the blood spurting from Wes's nose, then turned and disappeared into the night, almost bowling over Fred and Gunn who had deposited their unconscious hostage outside the front door.
Anya raised her eyebrows at the vampire on the floor. She turned to Dawn.
"What is this, a charity home for those without a pulse and assorted hangers-on? You really should start charging rent around here. Extra for bleeding on the carpet."
Gunn's swollen jaw twisted in a half smile. " Oh, I reckon this one'll be earnin' his keep."
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#Malfoy Manor#
Hidden in the ever-present shadows that lurked around her home, Narcissa stood just outside the door to Lucius's study, listening to the conversation within. The house elves had been ordered to the kitchens, forbidden to set foot in this part of the Manor.
As for the dark-haired girl – Narcissa had not seen her since that first puzzling encounter in the dining hall. Perhaps she had moved on, been sent elsewhere to do whatever it was she was forced to.
Forced being the operative word – even in their one brief meeting, though the girl had not spoken, Narcissa had been sure that she was being controlled against her will. That alone raised questions, for her husband did nothing without an ulterior motive.
What then was Lucius controlling this girl for?
A familiar voice startled Narcissa from her musing. Soft and menacing, with strangely sibilant 's' sounds – the voice of the Dark Lord. It was almost snakelike, and a cold shiver writhed up Narcissa's spine at the sound.
" And the Slayer, Lucius? How is she adjusting to her new life?"
" She remembers nothing of her night-time duties, my Lord, as you requested. She believes that she is being kept under lock and key in the North Wing for her own protection."
" Excellent. She has proved a valuable asset to our side. I trust you have continued with her treatment?"
" Naturally. Travers continues to send the necessary potions to suppress her strength somewhat, allowing us to perform magics on her. Hutchins, one of yours within the Ministry, has altered the potion a little to allow her normal level of strength to be summoned at will if Your Lordship wishes it – without rendering her immune to magic like others of her kind."
" Ah yes, such a tiresome loophole. You will arrange a meeting with Hutchins to inform him of my approval for his assistance. The Slayer is still being given this potion?"
" Certainly, my Lord. My house elves have instructions to add it to everything she eats, although they believe it is simply a strengthening solution. I deliver these meals to her myself. She appears most grateful to you for –as she calls it – saving her hide."
" Americans will insist on the slaughter of the English language."
Narcissa stood frozen as Voldemort continued speaking, thinking over what she had just heard. The Slayer – an American one at that – housed in the Manor and under the control of the Dark Lord?
There had not been a Slayer in the wizarding world for many years – enough time to ensure that this mystical being had become no more than a myth. Of course, those in power in the Ministry at the time had been most affronted that this entity had deemed the wizarding community unworthy, and thus introduced a decree forbidding contact between wizards and the Slayer.
One part of said decree also restricted schools such as Hogwarts from teaching students about the Slayer. However, Albus Dumbledore had often bent such orders from the Ministry, and while there had not been a teaching unit on the subject, books were available in the library. Narcissa could dimly remember stumbling across one of these in her sixth year.
If Voldemort truly had the Slayer under his control, he had gained a distinct advantage over the other side. Perhaps it was time for more direct action.
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A/N: A little sneak preview of things to come….
…..Dumbledore's eyes rested on the small blonde figure slumped dejectedly in front of him. " Miss Asher – Lily – I would like nothing more than to tell you that things can only get easier from here. Unfortunately, I cannot. I can sense that you do not trust me, and that is of course justified. For the moment, though, I ask you to put that aside and simply listen."
Lily merely gazed at the aged wizard with dulled eyes. It troubled Dumbledore, but nevertheless he continued. "You have several difficult choices to make. First and foremost, can you find the strength inside to accept who you truly are – no matter the cost?"…
Stay tuned, more of this program to follow after a short break.
*tigerlily.
