"You must be Buffy," the vibrant redheaded lady says with a forced smile. I notice that she's trying hard not to scream back at whatever is making that god-awful wailing inside.

"That's me," I reply, having to speak louder than usual over the deafening screams.

The lady waves me inside and I cringe as the shrieking continues. It's even louder in here than on those stone steps. I gaze around. Drapes even darker than Angel's cover the walls and windows, and even though it's day, traditional gas lamps that hang by the walls are needed to light the hall that we are standing in. There is a dank, musty smell that reminds me of some abandoned buildings I have patrolled before, where death seems to be a common sensation.

Suddenly the piercing shrieks stop, and I hear the redheaded woman standing beside me heave a sigh of relief. In the yellow light of the flames, I can see that she is plump woman who looks like a natural mother. A streak of sadness whips through me as memories of my own mother arise. I shake my head. Quiet echoes through the place and she softly introduces herself.

"I'm Molly Weasley, dear. Nice to meet you," she says as she walks, guiding me through the hallway and down a corridor where I can see a door.

Still clutching my suitcase, I can't help but notice the odd assortment of furniture in the house. I walk past several statues of gargoyles and a wall lined with plaques of withered heads and dust-coated portraits. This place reeks of darkness. God, I hope Giles was right about these people.

"The meeting's just about to start," Molly says in an undertone, ushering me through the door, "and mind that you keep your voice down while you're here. We don't want to wake her again."

Her? She must be talking about that screaming. I open my mouth to ask more when I find that I've walked into a fairly bright-lit room, where there is a long and large table with people seated, apparently awaiting my arrival. It reminds me of the dining room where I battled Dracula. Warily, I watch as Molly seats herself in a chair. I carefully and quickly gaze around the room – tall, grimy bookshelves line the walls, filled with thick, worn books. One of the shelves has an array of trinkets that I can't detail from where I'm standing.

"Miss Summers," a voice says, breaking my gaze.

My eyes flick to the table. At the end, there is an old and serene looking man with a flowing white beard. Adorning his head is a pointy hat that tilts slightly. He was really being serious about the whole wizard thing, huh?

"Yup, that's me," I reply. How many times have I said that already?

"Welcome," the old man continues, "to the Order of the Phoenix."

For the first time, I allow myself to let my eyes wander over the people seated at the table, all looking curiously at me. I immediately spot a young woman with bubblegum-pink hair. I hide a smile. Mental note: talk to her later. Another person catches my eye, but for a totally opposite reason. This man emanates darkness and I frown slightly. Catching my gaze, he sneers at me, his greasy hair moving slightly.

I look away from him. Two or three years back, I might've sauntered over there, playing dumb and kicked his ass. But that was a long time ago. Too long.

Suddenly I find the old man with the pointy hat at my side.

"I'm Albus Dumbledore. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I shake his hand out of politeness. So this is the famous Albus Dumbledore. I'm shocked to feel the power behind his grasp. Looks aren't everything, as many have learnt from me.

"Pleased to meet you too, sir," I say back.

He gives a small chuckle and gestures to a seat near his end of the table and I take it. It's relatively close to him, and I find myself sitting between two men. Both look sinister – one of them being the lanky-haired man who had glared at me earlier, and the other, when he turns to face me, has a freaky eye that constantly spins in his socket. Both have frowns glued to their faces.

"I'm afraid that I have not made any introductions," Dumbledore says after sitting back down, "no one except I, know who you are, Miss Summers."

I reluctantly hold back a glare. Did he have to be so damn public about my job?

He turns back to the table and speaks clearly.

"It is a great blessing that Miss Summers is here, on our side, today. I requested for her to join the Order, and she has travelled from California in the United States. I will not hesitate in telling you not to underestimate her powers."

Dumbledore subtly turned sparkling eyes to me. He's enjoying this way too much.

"Miss Summers is the Slayer."

I know what is coming. Everyone's going to gasp and look in wonder. I'm going to blush, crawl under the table and die and...

Wait.

Silence fills the room and I can tell that I'm not the only one who is confused. Apparently, it seems that these people haven't heard of a Slayer. I breathe a mental sigh of relief.

"Most of you have not heard of the Slayer," Dumbledore says, voicing my thoughts.

I politely clear my throat.

He gives me an inquisitive look and I hesitantly intervene, "Um, it's not just the Slayer any more. There are actually over 200 now. Well, potentials, anyway."

Dumbledore nods in correction and continues, "As you can see, I am not entirely well-versed in the history or current situations of the Slayers, so I am going to allow Miss Summers to introduce herself and inform us about her occupation."

I stare at him blankly. What the...?

Once again, his eyes are humming with an amused look and I curse myself for even speaking.

I can feel everyone's stares. Damn, I knew I should've taken those public speaking courses...

"Um, well...uh, my name's Buffy Summers," I stutter as I stand up from my chair. God, swallow me now...

The scowling man beside me gives a derisive snort. Annoyance starts to bubble through me as I continue.

"I was the Slayer, who was, I guess you could say, 'looking after' Sunnydale, residence of the Hellmouth in California. It's a tiny town on the map and you wouldn't even notice it until something jumped out and bit you on the neck."

I shoot Dumbledore a smirk. He merely chuckles again.

"The Slayer," I continue, feeling more confident each time, "is one girl in all the world, destined to fight the forces of evil, blah blah blah. My life story is actually quite complicated, and –"

I'm cut off by another snort from the man beside me. Arming myself with a deadly glare, I turn to him.

"Do you have a problem?"

A sneer lifts the corners of his mouth. I can feel the atmosphere in the room tense up. Seems like everyone's looking for some action. Screw not kicking ass, I think it's time to set the record straight...

"Yes I do," he bites out, "although I trust the judgment of Albus, I must say that he's hit way off the mark to bring back a tiny girl like you to help us."

I can feel a smirk tugging. He's going to bite hook, line and sinker.

"Well, if it's okay with you, Mr. Dumbledore," I say, sparing him a glance, "I'd like to take up the challenge."

The sparkle in his eye seems to diminish slightly. I nod in reassurance. I won't hurt this prick...too badly, anyway.

"Arm yourself with whatever you need," I throw over my shoulder as I leave my seat.

I can feel the arrogance rolling off him in waves. I can feel my power just fizzing under the surface. To my great reluctance, I remind myself to hold back. It won't do to pulverize one of my associates...as much as I would enjoy wiping that sneer off his face.

I see Dumbledore reassuring the other members of the Order, warning them to leave their seats and watch from the walls. With a smirk, I wonder whose safety he's warning them about. Just as I'm about to stretch, my Slayer sense tingles strongly, and I narrowly dive to the floor, sliding across before pushing myself into a handstand to avoid the stab of red light that scowl-faced git just threw at me.

I narrow my eyes. I hate cheaters. Flipping up, I land back on my feet, jumping to the side to miss a shot of green and run towards him. And is that a wand?

Reaching him, I can see his thin lips muttering curses under his breath, and I spring up onto a chair and vault myself onto the table to avoid another spell. With my height advantage, I quickly remind myself to restrain my strength as I do a spin and kick the wand from his hand, watching it fly into a corner.

I look back and see his eyes widen. I shoot him a smirk as I grab the front of what looks like robes and easily hoist him into the air so that he's eye level with me.

"Didn't you hear what Dumbledore said?" I ask, my voice dripping with fake sweetness, "Never underestimate my power."

With that, I drop him to the ground where he lies sprawled in a heap. And just to be a show-off, I jump onto a chair, balancing on the seat's edge before doing a flip in the air as I catapult myself forward. Landing gracefully, I notice, out of the corner of my eye, lanky-haired inching towards his wand. I stride forward and step warningly on his wrist.

Looking up with a big smile to the stunned group, I say, "Any questions?"