By now my hands have grown numb, either from the icy wind that cuts through as we fly, or the fact that I've gripped the broom hard enough to fear it splintering. In the distance, I can see faint bobs of light and am slightly warmed when Harry adjusts his grip on the handle, rubbing new warmth into my arms.
Thoughts of hot chocolate, a snug blanket and Mr. Gordo fill my mind as a particularly chilly wind whips up, blowing my hair out of the bun I messily tied it into. Moody's gruff voice filters through for a moment, and I have to strongly resist the urge to throw a fit when he says we should double back. Fortunately, Tonks covers that for me.
"ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?" she screams from her broom, and I feel Harry wince when he sees his trunk swing precariously at the back.
As we start to dive, however, a feeling of unease starts to creep up across my shoulders, prickling the hairs. Not wanting to put Harry off, I assume that it's just the fact that we're doing such a nose-dive in mid-air that's worrying me. I can see the ground start to hurtle towards us, and pray that Harry is as good a flyer as they say he is.
Through the blurriness fogging up my eyes, I can tell individual streetlamps and rooftops apart now. My thighs are cold and sore, and I really can't wait till we touchdown. Just ahead of us, Tonks lands gracefully, and just before Harry touches the ground, I've already jumped off and am shaking out my limbs on the familiar crunchy grass, trying to bring back some warmth.
Suddenly a tingle zooms up my spine, and I narrowly dive to the right to dodge a bolt of green.
On the ground, I yell, "EVERYONE DOWN!"
Looking over, I see Tonks lying flat just next to the neighbouring fence, her bright hair slowly turning black while she fishes out her wand from deep robes. Turning back, I see a group of five black-robed figures advancing towards us, and I'm worried that they'll find where the House is. Then I remember how the House had squeezed in only when I actually thought about the address, and I give a sly smirk as I stand up.
"Y'know, green was never my colour," I quip, ignoring fierce hisses of protest from Remus behind me.
The cloaked figures are illuminated by the streetlights as they stand in one line. Suddenly a slight tilt of a hooded head gives a flash of silver from underneath, and I narrow my eyes. So, he's back.
By now, I feel the rest of the team reinforcing my back, and I hope that Harry has dove somewhere safe, and isn't in the fight. Dumbledore will kill me himself if Harry's hurt after all this.
"There's no escape this time, Slayer," a familiar menacing tone glides across the lawn, from the figure I caught a flash of silver eyes from.
Cocking one hip, I drawl back, "You'll have to catch me then, won't you?"
I launch at him quickly, tackling his legs and bringing him down onto the cement road with a loud thud. While flipping back up, I see the rest of the team handling the other intruders with ease, especially with so many of us. But this fight is between silver-eyed guy and me.
He has his wand pointed, and I can hear a litany of spells muttered under his breath. Rapid bolts of green start to fire, and I flip forwards, remembering Giles' words of centering self onto the ground, and knowing where the enemies attacks are. Feeling where the disturbance of air is, I avoid the strikes he sends and continue flipping until I land in front of him and deliver a solid kick to his chest that sends him flying down the street.
Quickly sprinting after him, I barely miss a shot of green he throws from the ground, and it manages to sting me on my forearm. Hissing at the burning sensation, a new anger burns inside me and I prowl towards him.
"You really shouldn't have messed with me," I growl out, leaning over and stepping on his wand hand, twisting until I hear a sharp hiss from him.
"You are dealing with a Slayer, here, and are way out of league," I continue, grabbing his robes and pulling him to just below eye-level. The hood of his robe falls back, revealing creepy platinum blonde hair and those disturbing silver eyes.
"So why don't you run back to your Lord, and tell him that the Slayer says this: he is in for one hell of an ass-kicking when I find him."
I shove him back, but not before delivering a fierce punch to the face. I see a faint trickle of blood ooze from a broken lip, and a gruesome smile twists his face.
"You'll regret this, Slayer," he spits out, a horrid trail of blood following, "Lord Voldemort is powered by beings beyond your reckoning. He's waiting for you, and he will take what he wants."
Vicious anger bubbles under my skin, and I punch him again in the face. He merely twists his head back and wipes away the blood smeared across his mouth with his sleeve.
"She's waiting for her Tuffet, and counting down from 7-3-0. Watch your back, Slayer," he sneers before disappearing with a loud crack.
I stand there for a few seconds, his parting words lingering dangerously in my head. There's something there...I know what this all means, but...
"Buffy, are you alright?" Remus asks as he runs up to me.
"Yeah, talk about getting the job done," Tonks says, following up from behind, curiously eyeing the spot where the guy had Disapparated.
Then it clicks.
What is wrong with you?
Gee, if doing a little violence to vampires upsets you, I think you're in the wrong line of work.
Yeah, or maybe you like it a little too much.
I was getting the job done...
...I was getting the job done...
Oh God, Faith...
"I need to talk to Dumbledore. Now," I say hurriedly, racing off back to number 12.