A silence creeps up once again between me and the boy with sparkling green eyes, like a solid barrier that's stopping an endless stream of words from pouring out of our mouths. The odd sensation in my chest is spreading to my fingertips, and it feels amazing. My eyes are still locked on the black-haired boy, and I can tell that he's feeling the same way.
"You're the Slayer," he says in a heavily accented voice, still musty from sleep.
"The one and only," I reply, but pause for a second thought, "well, that was until someone upstairs screwed up in the Calling sector."
He gives a light chuckle, descending the stairs and I watch as the other wizards and witches part, looking on in slight confusion. When he comes to stand in front of me, I see that he's dressed in cute striped pajamas, crumpled from sleep and his black hair is a rumpled mess on top of his head. Despite his age, he's still slightly taller than me.
"You'd think they cut me some slack in the height department," I comment, tilting my head up slightly.
His hand comes up between us, an introduction that's not needed. There's an unexplainable tie binding us, maybe to do with being hosts of evil once, or maybe the Powers have finally decided to pitch in a hand. Either way, there's a comfort that I seem to be seeking out in him, and it achingly reminds me of the same bond between the Scoobies in high school. My solid ground. Maybe this boy is what will finally stop the screwy things the First is doing with my mind.
"Harry Potter," he says with a grin, his hand still extended.
"Buffy Summers," I reply with a smile of my own, taking his offer, and firmly shaking it, "resident Vampire Slayer."
No weird mojo happens when we clasp hands, and for that I'm glad. There'd probably be a bit of explaining to do if fireworks suddenly erupted from us.
Letting go, Harry continues, "I know. Like I said, I've seen you in a dream. It's sort of creepy. You're dressed in a white dress with red flowers and you're in a desert of some sort."
This scene sounds too familiar and my fears are being confirmed. The First Slayer never turns up unless something big like the First appears. I'm only surprised that I wasn't the one getting the prophetic dreams.
"Then this prehistoric woman attacks you out of nowhere. I try to help, but then there's this quicksand that sucks me in. I panic because I can't find my wand, and then you're there, and pulling me out. You tell me that you're not Miss Muffet any more, and turn around."
Goosebumps have started to rise on my skin from the cold, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the chill that's risen up inside too. There's something wrong with the picture he's painting.
"You begin to walk away, but then that woman appears again with a wicked looking dagger and stabs you in the stomach. You clutch it, and my memory starts to fade about now," Harry says with a slightly apologetic tone, although his eyes are still focused on me in curiousity.
"Your hair begins to flicker to a dark brown, and when you turn around to face me, there's a different girl standing there, in a pink dress instead. The blood stain that you got spreads really quickly, and the two of you flicker in and out, changing bodies."
"And then I wake up," he ends.
There's a sickly sensation swelling at the bottom of my stomach. I have a feeling that my past and the First are even more tangled in this world that anyone realises.
There's a small quiet in the stairway. A few people have started talking to Harry in undertones while I've been standing here, desperately trying to grasp the extent of the situation.
"We need to leave," I say, catching Remus' attention, "I need to see Dumbledore immediately."
Nodding swiftly, he looks out the window, "We need to wait for the signal, Buffy."
I hold back a sigh of annoyance, but am distracted by the sudden hisses that a few wizards make. Moody growls out a 'shut up!', and with a odd squelch, pops out his spinning eye. My mouth twists in a small grimace. I watch as Harry grabs a glass of water from the dishwasher in the kitchen, my mind trailing off in different directions.
As we continue to wait, I lean heavily against a wall, and run a hair through my messy ponytail, yanking the old hair tie off. I shut my eyes briefly as I pull the knotty hair into a bun. I feel Remus come and stand next to me.
"Is everything alright?" he asks softly.
"I'll be lying if I say no," I remark casually, trying to throw off the danger of the situation until I have a chat to Dumbledore, "but let's just say my beeper hasn't gone off for an Apocalypse, yet."
Remus eyes me carefully, but his attention is drawn away when another wizard reminds him of a letter he needs to leave for the Dursleys. He turns towards the kitchen, whipping out a piece of paper and quill from his dark robes.
Tonks and Harry come back down, his broom and suitcase floating just in front of them. I also notice that Tonks' hair is back to being bright pink. I raise an eyebrow, but don't comment. By now, everyone has made themselves slightly more comfortable in the house: Moody replacing his spinning eye, which is moving like it's possessed, two wizards are inspecting a microwave, and another witch is having a great time examining a potato peeler she's managed to rummage up.
Harry looks slightly bemused at the Guards' fascination with the appliances in the house, but I can see his face drops slightly when he sees Remus sealing the envelope addressed to the Dursleys.
A sense of pity wells up in me, because I could never imagine leaving Dawnie with caretakers like Harry's, who, I realise now, shares the same losses as my sister and I...no mum or dad, isolated from others because of our destiny and we've all seen enough evil to last more than one lifetime. I watch as he nervously steps up to be Disillusioned by Moody, and I remember Hermione and Ron back at Grimmauld Place. They've even got their own Scooby gang here...
It's odd how so many things here parallel my world. It can't be a coincidence.
We're mounting the brooms, and I look around for Tonks. But apparently she's got another passenger...Harry's suitcase. It's swinging slightly as she hovers just above the ground.
"Glad to know I'm easily replaceable," I say, raising an eyebrow at the bubblegum hair coloured girl.
"Anytime," she replies cheekily, throwing me a wink.
Great, now who's the lucky person who I get to hitch a ride with? Not Moody, not Remus, no, not her, or him...
I see a broom, standing suspiciously straight on the ground, and realise that it's Harry who's holding it. Squinting to catch the outline of his body, I sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. He swerves around and I give him what I hope, looks like a mix between a pleading and enchanting grin.
"Mind if I hop on with you?"
"Sure," he says cheerfully, and just at that moment, a bright shower of red sparks fills the sky in the distance.
As I wait for him to mount his broom, he suddenly stops, and the broom doesn't move.
"What's wrong?" I ask. The rest of the group has already mounted their brooms, and are waiting.
"Maybe you should sit in the front," he says in an undertone, "just so to make it look like you're the one who's actually riding the broom."
I look at him incredulously, "You know that I have absolutely no idea how to ride this thing, right?"
I can faintly see the outline of his head move as he nods, "It'll be alright. I'll direct from the back."
I give the broom a skeptical look, but don't protest. I can already hear Remus grumbling about lost time. Mounting the broom that Harry's still holding, I slide up to the front, and adjust slightly as I feel his weight follow behind me.
I'm grasping the front of the broom tightly, and for the first time in a long while, there's a nervous drumming inside my chest from fear of flying this thing. Harry's hands follow up from behind to grasp the section of broom just between my body and hands, his arms securely wrapping me.
Narrowing my eyes slightly, I spin my head back slightly, "Hey, don't get any ideas, buster."
He merely laughs before taking off once a green shower of sparks illuminates the night sky.