I find that the shabby looking Number 12 has appeared, and as I race up to it, I faintly hear the crunching of scorched grass under my feet. Looking down briefly, I can spot faint traces of smoke still rising from the charred lawn, and a pungent smell reaches me. Wrinkling my nose, I rap on the door and brush past an anxious-looking Sirius, not giving him time to talk as he opens the door. A piercing screech immediately swamps the space between us.
"Where's Dumbledore?" I yell, grimacing at the wailing portrait.
"Order," he mouths over the noise, shooting an exasperated glare towards the noisy painting.
Walking briskly down the corridor, I barely catch a glimpse of Harry in the kitchen, being tended to by a few people. His eyes flick to mine just as I hurry past the dim entry, and a comforting sense of reassurance warms the tips of my fingers.
As I reach the heavy door, I knock twice and push it open. Once again, the room is brightly lit, and I blink quickly to readjust from the dark hallways of the mansion. Standing with his back to me is Dumbledore at the other end of the room; weirdly, he seems to be talking to a wall.
I clear my throat, and watch as the old wizard mutters a few words and turns around to face me. My mind is a jumble of thoughts, all of which I need to seek his advice on.
"Miss Summers, take a seat," he says, seating himself down at the head of the table.
As I walk to the other end of the long, richly coloured table of wood, I try to sort out and piece together everything that is zooming around in my mind. The pain, the memories, the cryptic messages...
"You need to return," Dumbledore says gently, before I even speak.
Without realising, I've seated myself in the chair to Dumbledore's right, and his bright gaze shines with immense knowledge. Perhaps the wizard knows more than I've given him credit for.
"Faith was my sister-Slayer," I begin slowly, trying to match chunks of facts together, "and while we guarded the Hellmouth together, she fell in with the darker side of Sunnydale. I think the First is going to play on her weaknesses, and try to bring her back to the other side."
Dumbledore does not respond, but I notice that his wrinkled fingers are clasped in the shape of a gun, his index fingers resting on the bridge of his nose, slightly pushing his glasses up. Fine lines gather in the middle of his brow as he sits in deep thought, wistfully reminding me of Giles and the days the Scooby gang spent in research.
Brushing the stray thoughts from my mind, I continue, saying, "The messages that I've been having –Miles to go, Little Ms. Muffet counting down from 7-3-0...this isn't the first time I've heard them."
Dumbledore's gaze flicks briefly towards me before resettling in a calm, hazy gaze towards the other end of the table.
"There was a time where I was on the verge of death," my voice growing thick with memory and emotion, "and Faith gave me the chance to live again, warning me of the future with those words."
I never could remember that dream with Faith. Even after Graduation, when everything was over, and my slaying routine had settled back. Fleeting images did pass sometimes: the shattered window which we fell out of, a cat, the blood-stained dagger...but never enough for me to piece together exactly what she had warned me about.
That's why it was too late for me to do anything, 730 days after Graduation. Too late for me to save Dawn from the pain of Glory, too late for me to realise what my Gift was, too late to save myself.
And of course, too late to see the final end.
Scar tissue.
It fades.
It all fades.
Decision quickly implants itself in my mind, and turning determined eyes towards the wizard, I say, "I need to go back."
He nods his head gravely, "Do what you must to keep the First and Voldemort from advancing. Protect your friend, bring her back here if you must."
A wave of relief floods my mind, though it's odd that I questioned Dumbledore's acceptance to help in the first place. I settle my tense back into the back of the ornately carved wooden chair, feeling the gaps of wood press into the small of my back. We spend the next few minutes organising a Portkey and available backup aid, but parts of my mind drift off into secluded thought.
Despite all of my self-assurances that retrieving Faith won't be a difficult task, there is a small part of me that's hesitant. That Death Eater seemed to be giving out information too willingly, as if they're expecting me to bring Faith back. Is that their plan? For me to do all the work and give them access to corrupt her on their own turf? Am I walking into an obvious trap?
Dumbledore peers at me intently over his moon-shaped glasses, and freakishly seems to read my thoughts.
"There are always doubts that the enemy is one step ahead of us, Miss Summers," he says with strong tones of well-learnt wisdom, "and in many cases, especially this one, we have no choice but to trust our instincts."
It seems like he's speaking from a harsh experience, and a brief thought wonders if Harry has anything to do with this. Dumbledore's robes rustle slightly as he shifts back slightly in his chair, his arms settling on the arm rests.
"I've called for a meeting of the Order to inform them of our suspicions and plans. We will need to organise a Guard when you collect Miss Faith."
I give a little snort at that, imagining Faith's reaction with the title Miss in front of her name.
Then the door creaks open, and a file of wizards and witches stream in, seating themselves around the table. Looking around, I spot Snape as he glides in, a severe frown on his face. Looking like his mouth worked at a lemon farm doesn't help his intimidation factor. Then again, maybe he volunteered to work at mentioned lemon farm. Trusting his personality, that would be most likely.
My gaze wanders around, finding a slightly limping Tonks, who looks in desperate need of a rest. Her hair is still black, and a shiver runs through me as I recall her hair change. Just like Willow...
Sirius walks in last, shutting the door behind him and standing in the corner.
"I have called you here tonight to discuss the revelation of crucial evidence that is playing a part in Miss Summer's brief return to her home," Dumbledore says with a grim tone, several faces like Snape's and Sirius' whipping around with surprise.
Suddenly Dumbledore's eyes are on me, beckoning me to talk. As he sits back down, the amused glint in his eye has returned, and I scowl at him as I'm forced to stand and speak. Damn it...I hate improvising.
Sighing with a hint of frustration, I start, "I've mentioned before that I'm not the only Slayer walking the planet now, but a few years before my friends and I activated the Chosen around the world, I had a close sister-Slayer."
"The recent attacks and some prophetic messages I've experienced have given a strong warning of my friend being in extreme danger. I think she's been selected by Voldemort and our new enemy, the First, to even the odds out by having a Slayer on each side."
Looking around, I can plainly see skepticism on some of their faces. I need to convince them, need to make them realise what they're really getting into. Hardening my thoughts, I continue.
"I am not about to let my friend be taken by your enemy, and trust me, it's not good having a Slayer on the other side," I say, my eyes narrowed just a fraction, "I speak from experience when I say that a Slayer on the other side becomes a pure killing machine. Faith has as much power as I do, and that means that the enemy wants her just as badly."
I stop to take a breath, and let what I've said sink in. If it's possible, the faces all around me seem to have sunk further.
I continue quietly, "Voldemort has allied with the First, the ultimate enemy that I have faced and the one that destroyed my home. It will stop at nothing to see both worlds being reigned by evil."
"So now, I need a team: a support Guard that will return with me to fetch my friend. This group will be based on volunteers only," I say.
After a few seconds, four hands immediately rise in the air, belonging to Snape, Tonks, Remus, and surprisingly, Bill Weasley. Grinning, I look around.
"Anyone else?"
Seeing three of their best wizards raise their hands must motivate most of the rest who volunteer. After a minute or so, I pick up another five names. Looking to the corner, I see Sirius with a deep frown on his face. I can only imagine his frustration at not being able to leave.
Shortly after, Dumbledore adjourns the meeting, and I gather the team that is returning with me.
"Okay, thanks for volunteering," I say as they gather around me in a circle, "we're leaving for Cleveland by a Portkey that Dumbledore will be organising. We leave early tomorrow morning to allow for the time change and give us ample time in case we are attacked."
I look them all each in the eye with a firm expression as I continue, "I have been placed in charge by Dumbledore, and expect that you listen to my instructions. I doubt that most of you have ever been to America, so that makes me the expert in this situation."
"I only plan to do a quick pick-up, but you guys are here in case Voldemort plans a surprise attack, which I have a suspicion that he might," I say, finishing up, "any formations or codes that you Aurors might have are up to you. Just be sure to get back alive should an attack come. Any questions?"
"Is she as hot as you?" Bill asks with a grin, breaking the tense atmosphere. Taut laughter circles round, with the exception of Snape evilly glaring at the redhead.
"Let's just say she had a real appetite for men," I reply with a wink, "but sorry, Bill, she's already taken."
He dramatically exaggerates his heart breaking, drawing laughter from both Tonks and I, before his face brightens.
"But you're still available, right?" he asks with mixture of mischief and flirtation in his voice.
"Dream on, Carrot-Top," I answer loftily with a smirk.
As the group breaks up with soft murmuring, I realise that Sirius is still standing in the corner. As I walk closer to him, I recognise a familiar gaze he has that I saw on both Angel and Riley's faces when they met in my dorm at college. Is Sirius jealous?
"What are you still doing here?" I ask, aware of the frown he still has.
"Nothing," he responds, the look fading slightly, "just waiting for you."
I look at him a fraction longer, making him shuffle slightly under my stare. How can he possibly be jealous of anything? I've only known him for a few days...I shake off the feeling. There's more important stuff to think about than an impending love life.
"Sirius, Dumbledore said we needed an anchor for the Portkey because of the number of people leaving," I say, watching the way his gaze flits slightly to Bill and his eyes narrows as he leaves the room, "I know you hate being stuck in this house, but there's not much else I can do."
His response comes a few seconds later, "I'll do anything to help."
"Great," I answer, a smile on my face as he seems to redden under my attention.
This can't be good. My Pet Project has developed a crush on me.