A/N: Apologies for the posting, then un-posting, then posting again of this chapter. I'll go on record and say it was the hardest to write, mainly due to the obscene amount of explanations that are long overdue and *extremely* important to the direction of the story. Also, because it's been a long time since I updated. Hope I didn't make anyone too mad. : )
Those of you who've been following my little tale for awhile may notice a few differences in the story. The most obvious is that to the Hogwarts community, and to Buffy herself, she is now known as Lily Asher. However, to the Scoobs, she's still Buffy. I've tried to minimize confusion as much as possible. If you're very, very lost, I'd suggest you go back and read Chapter 2 (the revised version) – that's pretty much where it all goes down. Some other stuff has been bulked up, or toned down, or even deleted altogether, following the advice of CinnamonGrrl about where I went horribly wrong.
I'm not trying to confuse anyone on purpose. If anyone is confused, or has specific questions, feel free to email me and I'll answer whatever I can (without giving anything away).
This chapter is dedicated to the ever-helpful CinnamonGrrl, who kindly offered to beta for me when mine went AWOL, and who turned out to be the most honest and thoughtful critiquer (is that a word?) ever. Can't thank you enough, grrl. : )
Warning: My muse has channeled Marti Noxon and there are Season 6-style anvils dropping everywhere. Wear a helmet.
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Chapter 18: Ad Astra per Aspera
(A rough road leads to the stars)
#Hogwarts#
Lily headed for the kitchens as fast as her injuries would allow, ignoring the dull throb of pain that had begun to work its way through her still-healing body. Draco followed slightly behind, keeping an eye out for stray students and glaring fiercely at those he saw. As the unlikely pair passed, students shrank back in fear of the slight blonde Gryffindor, not particularly wanting to draw her attention lest she attack them as she had the vampires.
Lily, oblivious to their reactions, continued to limp blindly through the corridors without any clear idea of where she was. The only clear thought in her mind was putting as much distance between herself and the strangers as possible. So caught up in her confusion, Lily didn't feel Draco close the gap between them until he had grabbed a handful of black robe and pulled her to an unwilling halt.
Had the circumstances been different, she would have laughed in surprise at the look of concern on his face. As it was, she only stared blankly at him, her eyes brimming with bewildered tears.
"Asher – you don't have a bloody clue where you're going. I don't fancy a jog around Hogwarts today, so if you don't mind -"
His sarcastic remarks caught in his throat as she deflated before him like a dampened Filibusters firework. Mindful of the group of Hufflepuffs cowering nearby, he pulled her through the nearest door. A nice, quiet classroom – away from prying eyes – was as good a place as any for Lily to collect herself before they continued to the kitchens.
The space was dark, uncomfortably small…and smelt of stale Dung Bombs and mouldy wet cloth. Draco pulled out his wand. "Lumos." His wand tip began to glow softly, revealing shelves and brooms and what looked horribly like a dead rat.
Bloody brilliant.
Of all the places they could have taken shelter in, he just *had* to go and pick a sodding supply closet. Outside the door, there was the distinct sound of whispering. It appeared they had stopped in the corridor to chat about…whatever Hufflepuffs chatted about.
"Draco….why are we in here?" Lily's voice was quiet and confused.
He tried to breathe through his mouth to avoid the stench. "Well, Asher, unless you're in a great hurry to get back to Dumbledore and his band of Yankees…." Draco let his words sink in, knowing that there was nothing Lily would *rather* do than stay far away from that part of the school.
The Hufflepuffs had apparently passed by, and not a moment too soon – the smell was becoming unbearable. Draco tried the door, turning the handle sharply to the left.
There was a dull click, and the handle refused to turn another inch. Breathing in suddenly, Draco was rewarded with a fresh wave of dead rat.
"Hey, Super-Strength…give us a hand? Door's jammed."
Lily obliged, pulling at the handle in vain. She turned to Draco, her voice flat as she said, "Door's locked, Drake."
If there had been room to pace, Draco would have. He muttered a stream of colorful curses between deep breaths, kicking at the heavy wood in frustration. Lily appeared to forget her earlier worries at the sight of the great Draco Malfoy looking decidedly green around the gills. Her muffled giggle was rewarded with a glare.
"Oh, I'm so glad you think being locked in this stinking hell-hole is bloody amusing, Asher." Clearly, he wasn't a fan of confined spaces.
Pushing him gently aside, Lily began her own assault on the door. The wood didn't even begin to dent under her stream of blows. Conveniently forgetting that he himself had only just finished using violence, he rolled his eyes at her ineffective attempt.
*Muggles. Always insisting on doing things the hard way.*
Moving to the opposite side of the tiny cupboard, Lily braced herself, not noticing that Draco had pulled his wand from his robe and was studying the doorknob carefully. Closing her eyes, Lily crossed the short distance quickly, her shoulder poised for the blow. At the same time, Draco straightened and tapped the doorknob with his wand.
"Alohomora!"
The lock clicked open, just as Lily hurled herself at the door. Her shoulder collided with the back of Draco's neck as he turned the handle, sending him sprawling ungracefully on his back into the corridor. Lily stood stunned for a moment before rushing over to where Draco lay rubbing his neck.
" You okay Drake?"
Draco felt, rather than saw her drop to her knees beside him. It wasn't too difficult to smother a grin, considering there was a throbbing, elbow-sized indent in the back of his neck. Revenge was almost too easy. Draco reached up and grasped Lily by the shoulders, clumsily flipping her over and attempting to pin her to the ground. Within seconds he found their positions reversed, the small Gryffindor sitting triumphantly atop him. Lily smirked, leaning closer.
"Not exactly wrassling with a meek little girly-girl here, Drake."
Draco just stared at her. "I'm beginning to - "
"What the hell is going on here?"
The fun just kept on coming, Draco thought sourly, looking up at Ron Weasley. He snorted at the look of disgust on the Gryffindor's face. Lily climbed off him and backed away slightly
"What's the matter, Weasel – Potter not putting out?"
Ron's face went an even deeper shade of red as he surveyed the scene. Lily was staring at the floor silently, her hair ruffled and her cheeks pink. Malfoy, on the other hand, was looking decidedly angry.
" Nice to know that you don't waste any time jumping on the first Dark Wizard that comes along, Lily. Or was Harry just a decoy – y'know, shack up with Malfoy and then play all innocent and fragile with Harry for cover? Remember Harry? You should – you were sent here to mess with his mind, after all."
Draco jumped in before Lily could respond. "Nice to know you're still just as good at jumping to conclusions, Weasel. Searching the corridors in hope of finding a spare Sickle or two?"
Ron's face had progressed from scarlet to purple, one hand clutching his battered wand with such force Draco expected it to snap any second.
"I was visiting Ginny, Ferret-boy." He turned his anger on Lily, who flinched. " My sister, y'know – she got hurt in your Master's vampire attack. She's still unconscious. Not that you give two shits about the people who got hurt, or killed. You probably pointed the vampires in her direction."
"Weasel, bugger off, will you? Here, add this to your money-box."
Reaching into his pocket, Draco tossed a handful of Knuts at the enraged Gryffindor before rising to his feet and drawing his wand. Draco opened his mouth to let fly a stream of hexes, only to be interrupted.
"Drake, Ron – don't." Both boys were startled by Lily's soft voice. She had climbed to her feet, her bruised face tear-streaked and distressed. Draco lowered his wand, glaring at Ron. His voice dripped venom.
" You're not worth the effort, Weasel." He turned away, stalking from the scene.
Lily looked at Ron from behind a film of bitter tears. It didn't matter what she said – she could recite poetry or the twenty-seven uses of dragon's blood for all he cared. He would still see her as a murderer – and worse, as someone who had betrayed him and his dearest friends. The hopelessness of her situation struck Lily at that point, leaving her fighting to control the sobs that threatened to shake her body.
"R-Ron, I…."
Ron just looked at her coldly, seemingly impassive to her obvious anguish.
"I've heard enough. You're not welcome in Gryffindor House – not with me, not with Harry, not with Hermione. We don't know you; we don't care what you do or where you go. Stay away from us, Slayer."
Lily watched as he turned and strode away without another word. His words had sent a shock like ice through her veins, drying her tears instantly and leaving her numb.
Draco had returned in time to hear Ron's parting shot. He sighed, touching her shoulder gently. "Asher – as much as I hate to admit it, Weas- Ron's most likely not thinking clearly. Don't pay any attention to what he said. It's all pure rubbish when it comes down to it."
Lily's mind had cleared, leaving her empty save for one thought. " He's right." Her voice was almost too quiet for Draco to make out the words. Avoiding his gaze, she continued, realization dawning like a slap in the face. "I don't belong here. I…I shouldn't have stayed. I put everyone in danger just by…just by being here." She turned her eyes to Draco, who was chilled by the emptiness of her gaze.
Draco had never had a stronger urge to curse Ron Weasley in all of his six years at Hogwarts. Right now, the Gryffindor was probably filling his little friends in on the scene he *thought* he'd witnessed, not thinking for a moment of the damage he'd so thoughtlessly caused. It was his final words that had effortlessly reduced Lily – once so annoyingly cheerful and collected – to the broken and hurting figure that was pleading with him to let her go, to turn a blind eye while she fled.
There were two things that Draco Malfoy could not stand: confined spaces, and cowardice. For both, he blamed his inner Lucius – he could practically hear his 'father' droning in his mind.
Only fools run from their destiny, son. It would be foolish to flee from something that is quite capable of finding you – and furthermore destroying you. Far better to accept that this is what you were *born* for.
Granted, this was undeniably Lucius's way of telling his son that should he decide to go against his fathers wishes, he would be hunted down and tortured. Nevertheless, in Draco's mind, running away was *not* on the list of options. Ignoring another nagging thought – that perhaps Lily was quite entitled to run after all that had happened – he poured as much sarcasm as he could into his words.
" Never picked you for a coward, Asher."
His hand gripped Lily's shoulder tightly as he forced her to look at him, knowing full well that she could swat him to the floor without even raising her heartbeat, should she wish to. He was slightly relieved to see something flickered behind those achingly deadened eyes.
"It's better for everyone if I'm just… someplace that's… away."
"Right. So you're quite happy, then, to let everyone here think you're working for Voldemort? It doesn't bother you at all that you'll prove Weasel right – that you're nothing more than a murderer?"
"I'm not…." Draco didn't let her finish.
"You're not a Death Eater? I bloody well know that, Asher. Met most of 'em – hell, I was to be next in line for compulsive tattooing as soon as I hit 18. This lot," Draco indicated the school with a wave, "won't get it. They practically crap their pants at the sound of Voldemort's name. They're even less good with things they don't understand – it took Potter skewering a Basilisk and saving Mini-Weasel's hide from Tom Riddle for them to get over their delusions of him being the Heir of Slytherin."
The explanation was necessary, but Draco could have hexed himself for mentioning Harry Potter. Still, he supposed any reaction was better than the emptiness in Lily's eyes. Provided no violence was involved, that is.
" I can't….I can't go on not knowing who – what – I am, Draco."
"So I can add 'bloody idiot' to that list, then." He sighed in exasperation. " You think you're likely to find the answers you need when you're being hunted down by the Ministry of Magic – or, a less enticing option, by Voldemort himself? I don't have a sodding clue who those Americans are, but they certainly seemed to know you. Isn't that enough?"
Lily didn't respond, but she at least seemed to be thinking over what Draco had said.
"You know, if you were that hell-bent on leaving, you'd be gone by now. Course, you'll have to get past me first."
In hindsight, it wasn't exactly the smartest thing he could have said.
Lily looked at him levelly for a moment, shrugging his hand from her shoulder. He barely had time to react before her fist had connected with his jaw and he went down like a sack of newly-stunned Cornish pixies. Her whispered apology was the last thing to reach his ears before she turned and disappeared.
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Willow was clearly nervous.
"….and what is Angel gonna say when he sees Buffy, do you think he'll be all happy – well hopefully not *too* happy coz then comes the 'grr' factor and I lost the Orb of Thesula when I moved into the dorms so no re-cursing can happen….and Dawn; little Dawnie, she'll be so happy that Buffy is coming home again, I can't wait to tell her and Tara and everyone…."
"Wills….."
"….it must have been the shock that made her forget us, once she's back in Sunnydale she'll remember everything…"
"I don't think it's quite that simple, Willow." Giles cut her off mid-stream, looking to Dumbledore for confirmation. At the Headmaster's somber nod, Willow sank into an armchair, slightly out of breath. Xander squeezed her hand silently, waiting for Dumbledore to begin.
" I understand how you must feel, Willow, seeing Miss Summers when you believed she was forever lost to you. However, there are some things we must discuss before we progress any further."
Giles closed his eyes briefly at the look on Dumbledore's face. Something inside had been telling him it wasn't quite as simple as finding Buffy and returning with her to Sunnydale – after all, never before had they been allowed any small miracle without first fighting for it.
" You must understand that Buffy has been greatly changed. Even I cannot begin to fathom the effects of the portal that brought her to Hogwarts. It has given her magical abilities beyond those normally instilled in a Slayer."
"Buffy can do magic? Buffy can't even float a pencil!" Willow's eyes were wide.
" Your magic and ours are quite different, Willow. You will notice, should you spend any time with the students here, that they use incantations for tasks that you could quite easily perform with a single concentrated thought. But I digress."
Setting his wand on a side-table, Dumbledore glanced toward Giles.
"I suppose it is misrepresentation to call a Slayer's power 'magic'. The Slayer is not capable of drawing on her own power to perform spells. In the wizarding world, the Slayer is classed as a magical creature rather than a witch. Her magic is sufficiently different to ours to warrant such a classification."
Blank faces stared back at him. Patiently, Dumbledore changed tack.
" Think of magic as water, if it helps. Water is found in more than one form. First, there is the original source, the purest form. We draw it from outside our beings to survive. Wiccan magic is similar to water – you access an external source to gain your power."
"Next, we have steam. Without an object to channel the steam – let us say, a teakettle – it dissipates into the atmosphere. A wand is the wizard's teakettle – it provides an outlet for focusing the magic. A Slayer's power, therefore, is ice – a block of solid power, if you will – that is only capable of performing one task: in this case, providing the powers of the Slayer."
" Wills, I hope you absorbed all that, coz I'll be picking your brain later." Xander whispered, one eye on Dumbledore. Willow was struggling to make sense of what they'd just been told
"I think I get it. But – did Glory's portal kinda… change Buffy's magic? That means she isn't the Slayer anymore."
"Buffy is still the Slayer, as she demonstrated last night. She is the first Slayer in centuries to also possess wizarding abilities."
This meant nothing to Willow and Xander, though it seemed to mean quite a lot to Giles, who almost fell out of his chair.
"Prof – Albus, does the Ministry know this?"
Xander rubbed his forehead in confusion. "Wizards are an even bigger secret than the Slayer, but you told the politicians? Is the Queen a witch?"
Dumbledore chuckled, merriment dancing in his eyes. "I doubt that, Xander, though there has been much speculation over Prince Charles being a descendant of a house-elf. His ears are rather large, you know. Rupert was referring to the Ministry of Magic, and no; I saw no reason to inform them."
"Wouldn't it make things easy for them, having a Slayer around to slay…whatever demons you have here?"
"Quite the opposite. The Slayer is on the 'Dangerous Magical Creatures' list as far as the Ministry is concerned. Wizards are forbidden to have contact with both the Watcher's Council and the Slayer. Buffy would be in great danger if the Ministry were involved."
Willow piped up, waving her hands dismissively. "Once Buffy gets back to Sunnydale, she won't have to worry about the Ministry, so no biggie. Are we done here, coz I have to call Tara and tell her."
There was silence as Giles stared at Willow incredulously. Dumbledore sighed slowly, knowing this was inevitable.
"This is not for me to decide, Willow. It will be Buffy's decision whether she wishes to return to Sunnydale or not."
"Of course Buffy is coming back with us…Sunnydale's her home! Why would she stay here when all her friends are there? We've missed her so much…" Willow's voice trailed off at the look on Giles's face.
As gently as possible, Dumbledore spoke. " Buffy's journey through the portal did more than simply give her magic. The energies have literally turned back her biological clock by a number of years. Four years, to be specific. There is also - "
" Sixteen or twenty, Buffy still has family, and friends, and a *life* in Sunnydale – you can't make her stay here! She's the Slayer!"
Willow was frustrated and angry, her eyes fairly crackling with magic. The sight made Dumbledore's breath catch in his throat. Still, they needed to know. He opened his mouth, but was cut off by Xander.
" She doesn't know that." His eyes were fixed on Dumbledore, but his words were meant for Willow. Catching the look of surprise on the wizard's face, Xander sighed; turning to Willow who was watching open-mouthed.
" Who woulda thunk it…. zeppo-guy having an insight-y moment. You do your spells, Buffy kicks the ass and takes the names. Me? I eat bugs, attract demons like a magnet and get knocked out a whole lot…"
He paused. "Actually, I think that title goes to G-Man over there. *So* not the point though." Shifting in his chair, Xander continued.
"You and Buff are my best buddies. So here's the slightly creepy thing: I watch you all the time. I know you. I know Buffy. And the welcome we got tonight wasn't exactly brimming with warm – I have a bruise on my butt to prove it. Wanna see?"
He was putting off the inevitable, trying to lighten the mood and failing.
" She didn't recognize us – hell, she got wigged when she was rushed by a group of complete strangers. Wills, you know this stuff. You just don't want to admit it."
Dumbledore waited until Willow's eyes had returned to their normal green before speaking. " Imagine for a moment you are walking in Buffy's shoes. She arrived here not even knowing her own name, let alone where she had come from or what she was. She is known to staff and students alike as Lily Asher. Indeed, she has come to think of *herself* as Lily. Buffy has made friends at Hogwarts, shown quite a talent for magic – one which she has worked hard to develop – and regained her love for life."
The wizard seemed to battle with himself before continuing. " Last night, vampires attacked Hogwarts. You would have been proud of the way Buffy fought to save innocent lives, at great personal cost. She chose to fight because being the Slayer is something she cannot deny, whether she knows the extent of her power or not."
A tiny smile lifted the corner of Giles's lips briefly. " That's Buffy for you, Albus."
"Indeed. The past months have not been easy: Buffy has struggled to find answers that I, unfortunately, have not been able to give her. It was not Their intention for Buffy to remember her past existence – They wished for her to begin afresh, to absorb what she could without sparing a thought for all she'd left behind. It appears that once again, They have underestimated exactly who they are dealing with."
Willow and Xander tensed as Giles snarled in anger. "If those pillocks from the Council had *anything* to do with this…."
"The Watcher's Council do not have the power to perform such a task. The force that is responsible for this – I believe your Los Angeles friends know them as the Powers that Be?" Their silence was all the answer Dumbledore needed. The phrase had triggered a memory in Willow's mind, something Buffy had told her years ago.
^ "A higher power guiding us?"^
" For many years, the wizarding world has lived in fear of Voldemort regaining power and waging a terrible war on wizards and Muggles alike. A prophecy was created long ago, foretelling of a sacrifice which marks the beginning of said war."
Recognition flared on cue in the three listeners. Giles was the first to connect the dots.
"The Kalvros Prophecy. Tom Riddle – Voldemort – is the Puzzle of Dark."
" Correct, Rupert. On the eve of Buffy's death, this prophecy became a reality. Voldemort has been quietly gathering supporters, waiting for the foretold events to occur – for the barriers to weaken around the thing he desires most of all. The Key – or the Hellmouth. Possession of one is a prize, but having both is catastrophic."
"So why didn't –"
" Why didn't the Powers that Be return Buffy to Sunnydale to protect both the Hellmouth and the Key? Sirius tells me you have been studying the Kalvros Prophecy. In fact, you came here hoping to find answers."
"Looks like we picked the right person to ask. Who better to give us the low-down on a prophecy than a –" Xander's eyes widened as realization set in. " A prophet-guy. *You're* the Prophet." It was evident he was struggling to keep pace with his thoughts. " And the Prophet has to protect the, um Torch Bearer-"
"The Bringer of Light, Xander."
"That's what I said. Work with me here, G-man. So, you've kinda been hiding Buffy, which is the same as protecting, which means…"
"Buffy is this Bringer." Willow cut in. Xander's face fell slightly. " Sorry for wrecking your exposition fun, Xand. Are we talking like, First Evil Bringer here, coz I didn't think those guys had branched out beyond your basic hack-n-slash, with a bit of chanting as a bonus. I mean, Buffy had the black cloak thing down, but she still had her eyes and stuff…."
" *This* is your way of getting to the point? Verbal diarrhea?"
"Ms Rosenberg – Mr Harris. If I may interrupt?" Both Scoobies closed their mouths with an audible snap. " The Kalvros prophecy was created millenniums ago. Your Powers have been searching for a suitable Bringer of Light for as long as the Slayer has existed. Many of the Chosen die in battle – it is rather rare for a Slayer to give her life. I have very little idea why Buffy in particular was chosen by the Powers."
"So why the cryptic – couldn't the PtB have just sent Buffy a letter saying what they wanted?"
" For the prophecy to be properly fulfilled, the Slayer must form an unshakeable bond with four particular Hogwarts students. I assume that the Powers believed this could best be achieved if Buffy became a student at the school. They circumvented the two major barriers preventing this – they used the energies of the portal to both change Buffy's age, and to give her the necessary magical abilities. Severing the ties that bound Buffy to her former life – her memories – allowed her to start afresh without the burden of being the Slayer on her mind. You cannot deny that her years as the Slayer have come at a great cost to Buffy."
Willow was silent. For years they had been forced to watch as Buffy edged further away from the group, the nightly battles stealing piece after piece of her spirit.
It had begun long ago – the night Buffy learned she had cost Angel his soul. The cloud hanging over her head had grown heavier with each death, until the storm finally broke the night Buffy had been forced to drive her sword through Angel's chest. Willow had stood by helplessly as the laughter and life had disappeared slowly from her friend's eyes, until the final tether holding Buffy to them had faded with the dying heartbeat of her mother.
She could see in Dumbledore's eyes that he knew this, and suddenly her anger melted away, leaving only a heaviness in her chest that left Willow gasping for breath. How could they ask Buffy to return to a life that had cost her so dearly?
"So what do we do now? Go back to Sunnydale, pretend that we never saw Buffy?"
"On the contrary, Willow. If you can spare the time away from the Hellmouth, I invite you to remain here for awhile. Buffy will need her friends close by."
Xander looked disbelievingly at the wizard. "One minor flaw in your wacky English logic – Buffy doesn't know we're her friends." He paused. "Never thought I'd actually say that. Plus, doesn't she *have* friends?"
" She does. However, they do not know Buffy like you do, for despite their best attempts to find out who she was before Hogwarts, they know nothing of her capabilities – nor her past." Dumbledore's eyes were shadowed for a moment.
"There are only six people at Hogwarts that truly know who Buffy is. Four of them are in this room. One, I believe, is currently in his private quarters in the Hogwarts dungeons. Severus knows only that Buffy is the Slayer, nothing more. The other –Sirius – knows only what he has overheard from you. He is…" Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, concentrating.
" Sirius is heading toward the Gryffindor common room. Dobby!"
The Sunnydale trio jumped slightly at Dumbledore's raised voice. Xander leaned close to Giles.
"What's a Dobby? Is that some kind of wizard swear?" Giles just shrugged.
With a pop, a small, bat-eared creature appeared in front of the chairs. Clothed in an enormous maroon jumper and two mismatched socks, it looked around with large green eyes until it spied Dumbledore. With an expression so comical Xander wanted to laugh, the creature bowed its head slightly, ears flapping vigorously.
"What can Dobby do for the great Professor today, sir? You is wanting tea, perhaps, for you and your guests?"
"Dobby, have Miss Sum – Miss Asher and Mister Malfoy arrived in the kitchens yet?"
Dobby looked puzzled. " You is speaking of Miss Lily, sir? Dobby has not seen Miss Lily today. Mister-" he choked on the name, " *he* is not coming either."
The Headmaster adjusted his glasses, frowning slightly. "Thank you, Dobby. If you see either of them, would you come here and let me know please?"
Dobby nodded emphatically. To everyone's surprise, he let out a piercing shriek and hid his face in his long-fingered hands, one finger briefly pointing to the door.
" Dobby's old master's son is here, Professor Dumbledore. He is looking most angry, like he is being violent to Dobby. Dobby does not want to be attacked, sir."
The frightened house-elf disappeared with a 'pop' as all heads turned to the doorway. Malfoy was standing there, rubbing his bruised jaw and looking most disgruntled. Buffy was nowhere to be seen.
" Professor – Lily got all worked up, introduced her fist to my jaw, and when I woke up she'd disappeared. She was spouting crap about being a danger to people – I reckon she's trying to do a runner."
Dumbledore was on his feet before Malfoy had finished, hurrying out the door without a word of explanation. Draco was left staring at the three strangers who had been the cause of Lily's distress.
Xander stood, digging through one of the bags in the room and producing a nasty looking two-headed axe. Draco backed away, holding up his hands as if to shield his person from further damage.
"No need to get violent. It's not like I could've stopped Super-Strength from having her way with me." It took a moment for him to realize what he'd said. " Not in the way you're thinking. There was no having of anything, really."
The redhead who'd earlier called him a vampire stepped forward. " Breathe, Mini-Spike. We don't do flaying – it's icky."
"I'm supposed to find that comforting, Red?" She stared at him. "For Merlin's sake, stop *staring* at me like I'm a bloody ghost."
He was certain he heard her mutter something about 'ghost of neutered vampires past'. The older man spoke up, sounding surprisingly English.
" Which way did Buffy – er, Lily – go?"
Draco looked at him as if he were mad. " Can't say really, on account of my being unconscious. S'not like I waved goodbye as she left. Hey!" All three were now armed with various weapons and heading his way. "There's really no need to…"
A polished sword was tossed his way. Draco caught it by the hilt with the tips of his fingers and turned as the Americans brushed past him. Red called back over her shoulder.
" Hey, Mini-Spike. Grab your wand and let's go!" He hurried to catch up, leading the way through the maze of hallways. Nobody spoke, but the air was fairly humming with the familiar tension of battle preparation. Red turned to him.
"Willow." He blinked. Why was she talking about trees, of all things? She rolled her eyes, a gesture that was *so* Lily it made him grin. Oh yeah, there was no doubt about who these people were.
"It's my name. Willow." She pointed to each of the two men in turn. "Xander. Giles. You?" Draco blinked. She wanted to know his name?
"Well, unless you wanna be dubbed Mini-Spike forever…"
"Draco. Draco Malfoy. What are we doing?" Was it his imagination, or did the man named Giles tense at his name? Bloody brilliant – he'd known them for a total of five minutes and already his father's reputation was getting in the way.
Willow raised an eyebrow. " Finding B - Lily. We don't bring out the weaponry for casual strolls, y'know."
Despite her light tone, Draco could see something shadow her eyes at the mention of Lily's name. She seemed determined to hide it from him, and he had no real desire to argue with someone who was gripping a nasty-looking crossbow and looking horribly like a certain stubborn fifth year Gryffindor. Speaking of which…
" You're not a Weasley, are you?"
"What's that, some kind of communicable disease? Sometimes when I'm nervous or angry, I go all splotchy, but I dunno if that's a disease…"
Listening to her ramble as they pushed through the Entrance Hall and into the fading sunlight, Draco decided he kind of liked this girl.
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"Harry?"
The timid voice intruded on Harry's thoughts. Upon returning from the Quidditch pitch, he had perched on the window ledge and turned his face firmly toward the grounds of Hogwarts, ignoring the staring eyes of the few Gryffindors in the common room.
Harry blinked as he made out a small figure with streaming blonde hair, limping across the lawns toward the Forbidden Forest. He forced his eyes to look anywhere but at the moving shape, fixing his gaze on the lake instead.
"Harry…sorry t-to bother you, but S-s-siri…your godfather is outside. H-he wants to talk t-to you."
Colin Creevey was standing nervously near the window, his eyes darting toward the portrait door in fear. Though Sirius had been pardoned formally by the Ministry, many of the students were still afraid of him, especially those who didn't subscribe to the Daily Prophet.
Harry managed a half-smile. "Ta, Colin. Send him in?" Colin scurried to open the portrait, darting out as soon as Sirius entered. Apparently, the other Gryffindors held the same opinion of Sirius – Harry had never seen the common room empty so fast.
Sirius entered, clean shaven and wearing freshly laundered robes. His face was uncharacteristically solemn. Harry greeted him dully, not moving from the window.
"Nice to see I can still clear a room faster than a Dungbomb." Sirius's voice was a touch bitter as he pulled up a chair and studied his godson. Harry looked out at the grounds again, uncomfortable under Sirius's gaze. Sighing, his godfather moved into the shadows, seemingly collecting himself.
" Harry!" Tearing his eyes from the window, Harry was faced with an indignant and furious Ron. Ron's fists were clenched at his side, looking as though he was trying hard not to punch something.
"How's Ginny?"
"She'll be okay. But listen, Harry, that's not what I have to tell you. Coming back from visiting Gin, I saw Malfoy…"
Harry turned his face to the window again. " Ron, I really don't care about Malfoy right now, okay?" I only care about Buffy, he silently added.
"Malfoy's shagging Lily! He was on top of her in the hallway, having at it!"
Harry gaped at Ron disbelievingly, hating the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. Ron leaned toward Harry, his voice quieter but still furious.
"Course, I told her what I thought…don't think she'll be coming back to Gryffindor, so you don't have to worry, mate."
There was a muffled gasp behind Ron. Both boys turned to see a quivering pile of books. A moment later, the books were tossed uncaringly aside and Hermione was revealed, trembling in anger. Ron looked rather pleased with himself at Hermione's reaction. At least until she smacked him upside the head.
"Ron Weasley, sometimes you are just the biggest fool in the world! What exactly did you say to her?" Hermione suddenly noticed they weren't alone. "Hi Sirius."
Sirius nodded grimly, not moving his eyes from Ron. "We're waiting," he said in a tight voice. Ron gulped, but recounted his conversation quietly, his eyes darting between Sirius and Hermione, both of whom were listening in horror. Harry found himself numb, unable to speak. It was Sirius that cut Ron off sharply.
"I've heard enough." Hermione looked ready to cry. Sirius emerged from the shadows, eyes blazing." Sit down." It was not a request. Ron sat hurriedly.
Sirius changed tack. " The knowledge that you have been accused of a crime you did not commit is the worst thing in the world. You couldn't even begin to understand what it feels like. First, you become numb. You try to seek comfort in whatever you can – memories, unconsciousness, the familiar sight of your hands – anything to suspend reality. Then you begin to think that since your life matters to nobody, it is no longer worth the struggle to go on, to fight for your own innocence."
Harry was blinking stupidly, stunned. He had never heard Sirius talk in this way, or for so long. Apart from the incident in the Shrieking Shack in third year, Sirius had proved to be a man of relatively few words.
"The absence of hope is a terrible, terrible thing. I would not wish it on anyone else. It eats away at your spirit until you are nothing but a shell. If you are lucky, you manage to claw your way out of the deep hole that another has dug for you. I was lucky. I had ties to bind me to this world – something to fight for. You, Harry. Finding you was the spark of light at the end of a dark tunnel."
Ron was looking at the ground, his face drawn.
"Your Lily has no-one left to turn to – or at least, she believes this to be true. As of this moment, she is missing. The staff are combing both the castle and the grounds for her. Can you even begin to realize what you've done?"
Sirius sighed, his eyes softening. His next words were spoken to Ron, though Harry had a horrible feeling they were meant for all three Gryffindors. Hermione was crying quietly, fat tears trailing down her cheeks.
" You were trying to protect your friend. I understand that. You judged on what you saw, and in the heat of anger you made a rash decision, without any proof to back it up. Tell me, have any of you attempted to speak to the Headmaster about your suspicions? Did it occur to you that Dumbledore would *never* have knowingly put Hogwarts in danger if there was the slightest chance that what you believed was true?"
None of them could look at Sirius. They hadn't spoken to Dumbledore – in fact, they had chosen to leave the Great Hall rather than wait for his explanation.
"No. But, but Harry h-had a vision… You-Know-Who was talking about Lily, about his p-plans for her…" Ron was stuttering in his haste to try to justify their actions.
" Did he mention Lily by *name*?"
"N-no… But there's only one Slayer…the book said…"
Harry was silent, remembering another night in this very common room. Remembering his words to Lily not so long ago. Had it only been two days?
" I'll always be here if you need me. You know that, right?"
His own words echoed painfully in his mind. He had promised her everything, and at the first test of loyalty, he had betrayed her faith in him. It made his heart ache.
Malfoy had been right: Lily had known nothing more than the fact that Hogwarts – a place she had no reason to risk her very life for – was under attack, that innocent lives were threatened. Harry realised with a start that Hermione was talking.
"The book was wrong."
Wiping her face with the sleeve of her robe, Hermione motioned to the discarded books. " I went back to the library to read more about the Slayer. Madame Pince had set aside some books for me – I guess Dumbledore knew I would be coming. Some of the books have his own name on them – they're from his own private collection. Including a copy of a Watcher's Diary."
She held up the diary, a small book with a faded leather cover. Opening it to the title page, she pointed to the words inscribed in neat, slightly stiff handwriting in the top right-hand corner.
Diary of Rupert Giles
Watcher of Slayer
Buffy Anne Summers
1997 – 2001
Sirius blinked. " Well I'll be damned. Dumbledore really has been keeping a close eye on old Rupes. Wonder how he managed to get a copy – I doubt those gits from the Council gave it to him, Slayer-wizard relations being what they are." From his robe, he pulled two pictures and handed them to Harry. Harry stared down at them, one familiar, one new. The only difference between them was that in the first picture he held, Lily was flanked by two unfamiliar teenagers and a middle-aged man. The second was the picture Colin had taken of the Gryffindor Four. Turning the first over, he noted four names scrawled on the back in what was unmistakeably Lily's handwriting.
* The Scooby Gang - Willow, Giles, Buffy and Xander.*
The pieces fell into place as Harry stared disbelievingly at Sirius. "That's where you were all this time… with this Watcher? You knew who Lily was even before I mentioned her?" And you didn't tell me, he added silently.
Sirius must have seen something in Harry's eyes. " I couldn't tell you. Didn't even know myself until Dumbledore told me the night I came to bring the letter. I was staying with Rupes in a manner of speaking. Made a good family pet for awhile, at least until the Hellmouth started stirring."
"Er…I still don't see what this has to do with the book being wrong." Ron spoke up.
Hermione rolled her eyes in a manner very similar to Buffy. "Because, Ron, the diary says that there are *two* Slayers." Closing her mouth suddenly, Hermione looked at Harry. " But we've got other things to worry about. Like finding Lily?"
Sirius jumped. " No you don't. You're not going anywhere. Dumbledore's orders."
The Trio just looked at him incredulously. There was silence for a beat, then… Sirius fell back into his chair, unable to move save for his eyes which were frustrated – and slightly amused? Harry blinked at Hermione, who had managed to hex Sirius from behind in mid-sentence. She looked rather sheepish.
" Sorry, Sirius. But we have to fix this. We'll be careful, I promise."
With that, they disappeared out the portrait door. Harry glanced apologetically at him before swinging the door shut. Sirius sat immobile in the chair, silently cursing his continued blindness when it came to the Trio and what they were capable of.
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Lily was crashing through the undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest, running from something – no, someone. More than one someone, judging from the noise behind her.
How many, and what species eluded her – the finer details Slayer hearing usually provided were muffled by the sound of her heart pounding furiously in her ears.
She was beginning to realize exactly how the place had gotten its name – within five minutes of her entering she'd been attacked from behind. Already injured, Lily had been forced to run rather than fight. Now, she was being pursued.
She could feel the jagged edges of her not-yet-healed ribs grating with each gasping breath, every step bringing only more pain. One arm flapped uselessly against her body, her shoulder a bloody and mangled mess, thanks to re-opened stitches and a set of sharp claws.
How long had she been running? It seemed like forever. No matter how far or how fast she ran, her pursuers were on her heels, and gaining every minute.
It was bitterly cold, the kind that sinks deep into your bones and makes your very soul shiver. The darkness of the forest stretched as far as she could see, thick tree trunks leading to a dense layer of branches that blocked the sun from view.
She felt the painful sting of a low branch whipping across her face, blinding her for one terrifying moment. The pounding of her feet was broken as she stumbled sightlessly over rocks and roots, her good hand stretched out in front in an attempt to protect herself. The red haze cleared almost without her noticing, all her energy focused on running.
One foot in front of the other. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't let them catch you. Breathe in. Lead them away. Breathe out. Step. Step. Step step stepstepstepstep.
She was sure there were others in the forest, silent eyes watching her from the thick undergrowth. Whether they were friend or foe, they acted as spectators in this endless race for her life, not appearing, not helping. The air was thick with mystical energy, writhing and twisting around her as she gave up hope of being stealthy and crashed through the bushes with abandon.
The Slayer in her refused to sob with exhaustion, drove her to the point of breaking and then demanded that little bit extra. The footsteps behind her were closing in, getting faster.
To her horror, she realized it was not they who were speeding up, but she who was slowing down. There was nowhere to hide, and she didn't know where she was running to. Behind her, there was a triumphant cry as though they had only just noticed this, and the air was suddenly filled with shouts and streaks of light, speeding around her. Magic?
Duck, weave. Breathe in. If they catch you, you die. Breathe out.
A few of the streaks collided with her stumbling form, increasing the previously only-just-bearable pain to agony that made her breath catch in her throat. Not caring who heard her, she gave in and began to sob, each gasping breath harder to draw.
There was a terrible ripping sound as trees were uprooted and flung into her path by an unseen force. In desperation, she chanced a glance behind her, tearing her eyes from the faint path ahead only for a split second.
It was enough. A felled tree loomed ahead and she stumbled and fell hard on her injured shoulder, dirt and leaves mixing with sticky blood, grinding into the open wound. White spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried desperately to get up and found she no longer had the strength.
She was crawling now, fingernails split and bleeding as her hands clawed the dirt, inching toward a particularly thick shrub that would at least provide some cover from whatever was out there. She curled into a tight ball amongst the prickly leaves, tears of pain streaming from her eyes as thorns embedded themselves in her exposed skin. Too late, she realized her mistake. A bloody trail stretched from the tree to her hiding place, drag marks clearly visible to someone with even the poorest eyesight. Bile rose in her throat as her pursuers leapt over the log nimbly and turned toward her, cruel eyes seeking her out within seconds.
A high, cold laugh echoed through the trees. She was dragged from the bush by her hair, her aching body banging against every possible hard object on the muddy forest floor. Unable to do anything but fight for consciousness, she bit back her sobs. She refused to let these –things- think that she was beaten. Lily was dimly aware of other figures circling as the leader spoke, his voice uncomfortably close to her face.
"Little, little girl. So fragile, so broken. Why are you here, meddling in forces you cannot begin to understand?"
Something flared inside Lily as she thought of the parents who would have to open the owl bearing the news that their son or daughter had been injured, or worse, killed by the invading vampires only last night. She knew with cold certainty that this – was it even a person? – had ordered that attack.
"I really…" she wheezed, "don't know. You gonna… share your thoughts…or just your really horrible breath?"
Harsh orange light, and pain exploded throughout her entire body, shaking her slight form with tremors no human could withstand for long. From far away, the same hissing voice rose in triumph.
" I think you'll find, little girl, that my friends can do a far better job at sharing thoughts. Yours, in fact."
Lily suddenly felt as though she'd been plunged into icy water, shivers trickling down her spine and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention. The little light that filtered through the dense trees vanished suddenly as though someone had turned off the sun. At once, her senses started going crazy, almost drowning out his voice.
" You think you know…what you are…what's to come…you haven't even begun."
There was an eerie rattling sound, a long indrawn breath from an approaching creature. No matter which way Lily looked, all she saw was a veil of darkness. Voldemort – there was no doubt anymore as to his identity – had vanished, leaving her crumpled on the ground, defenseless. But certainly not alone.
A thin, slightly slimy finger ran down Lily's cheek slowly, as though memorizing the feel of her skin. Waves of putrid, rotting breath washed over her and she fought the urge to gag, at the same time fighting to make her limbs obey the command to move.
Then the voices started clamoring for attention inside her head.
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A/N: I'm going to be evil and leave things hanging there. Those of you who asked for longer chapters – well, you got your wish : ) If you're interested, a copy of the full prophecy is in Chapter 13.
As always, comments and *constructive* criticism are always welcome.
