It had been an hour since the Hogwart's Express had left it's platform and, thankfully, Kennedy had not yet started fondling Willow in their compartment. Indeed, the only noteworthy event had been when a puzzled fifth year had asked Willow, with some disdain, if she was 'a Weasley'. Willow, having no idea what a Weasley was –but guessing that it probably wasn't the most positive of adjectives- threatened to give the boy a detention if he insulted her again, leading to him backing away cautiously and muttering something sulkily about the touchiness of Americans.

Within the first half an hour, Willow had fallen asleep, curling herself up on her seat and snuggling her head onto Kennedy's lap. They were the only people in their compartment, so Kennedy thought it safe to gently stroke her lover's red hair, now laced with strands of silvery-white after a spell she had performed on a scythe earlier that summer had momentarily turned her hair completely white. Kennedy envied Willow's ability to fall asleep so easily; she was extremely tired after their long trip from California to England, but inexplicable butterflies in her belly were making her feel queasily alert. This was what Buffy called her 'Slayer sense,' and for some reason it was kicking into overdrive. Willow had theorised that it was probably all the magic, quite literally, in the air causing her natural instinct as a Slayer to hone in on the supernatural haywire, but Kennedy wasn't so sure. Though she couldn't explain it or back it up, she knew instinctively that danger was brewing.

As Kennedy mused on this, she locked eyes with a young girl passing their compartment. Her heart skipped a beat- for a moment she thought she was looking at Willow. Then she remembered both that her Will was lying comfortably beside her, and that Willow had once told her that she had a vampiric doppelganger from another dimension. Jumping to her feet, she opened the door and prepared herself to grab the stake she always kept in a sheath in her boot.

"Who are you?" she demanded, noting that, close-up, the girl did not look all that like Willow. Whilst she had the same flame-coloured hair, pale, freckled complexion, and cute button nose, she was more fresh-faced and younger-looking than her lover, not to mention more sturdy and athletic.

"Ginny Weasley," said the Willow-alike, eyebrow raised, neck snaked. "Who are you?"

"I'm Kennedy, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts assistant- not that's it's any of your business, young lady," she snapped. It seemed slightly farcical to call her this seeing as there couldn't be more than five years in age difference between the two young women, but Kennedy never skipped a chance to be abruptly authoritative. "Why aren't you in your compartment?"

"It's called a toilet?" sassed Ginny sarcastically, "Or, as you Americans might incorrectly term it, a bathroom." She said this last word with an overdone Valley Girl accent. Kennedy liked this girl. "So, if you're the assistant, where's the teacher?"

Kennedy gestured towards where Willow was sleeping, explaining her napping as the product of a brutally long trip. "She looks kind of young to be a teacher" noted Ginny, "especially a Defence Against the Dark Arts one. I'd have thought they'd get someone less…frail, for that job."

Intrigued, it was Kennedy's turn to raise an eyebrow, and she gestured for Ginny to sit down as she jumped back down onto her seat, gently tilting Willow up so that she was leaning against the wall in an upright position.

"Explain?"

Thus ensued a long, fiendishly gory tale of the bad luck of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers at Hogwarts. "Some even say that the job is cursed," finished Ginny, smacking her lips with relish.

"Geez, no wonder they were desperate for a replacement. Who'd want a cursed job!?" noted Kennedy.

"Well, there is someone actually. Professor Snape- I'd tell your friend to avoid him if she wants an easy life. You too for that matter."

"I'm pretty sure I can handle some old professor" said Kennedy brusquely, wrinkling her nose with amusement. She liked this Weasley girl. She reminded her a little of Faith, the most experienced Slayer after Buffy, who was a spunky little fireball of exuberance. In fact, not only did she remind her of Faith, but Kennedy was sure she had met or seen this girl before…

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked, frowning. "I swear, I don't recognise you, but you give me a weird sense of, like, déjà vu."

"You know," said Ginny, smiling, "I was just thinking exactly the same thing. I do recognise you, though. Would you have been in any textbooks at Hogwarts?"

Kennedy snorted. "I doubt it. This one might have been though." She nudged Willow playfully with her foot, an oddly proud look on her face. "She's one of the world's best witches."

"Oh, really!?" Ginny explained. "Wow, what family is she from?"

There was a silence.

"Um, the Rosenbergs?"

This time it was Ginny's turn to frown. "Hmm. That's odd. I don't think I've ever come across a Rosenberg. Even though you're American, every magical family has British relatives somewhere."

"Ohh," Kennedy said, realising the misunderstanding. "No, no, Willow's not from a magical family."

If Ginny had been drinking a drink, Kennedy was certain that at this revelation she would have promptly spat it out. "Not…from a magical family!? You mean they've appointed a mudblood as a teacher!?"

Kennedy, not entirely uncomfortable with this odd new term, gave the girl a withering look. "No. They've appointed Willowas a teacher."

"No no, don't get wrong", spluttered Ginny, trying to backtrack, "there's absolutely nothing wrong with being a mudblood- in fact I never use that word, it's a horrible thing to be called, I just- I was shocked. They're usually very traditional and old-fashioned about stuff like that; a lot of the parents get funny about it. Especially since Dumbledore made a werewolf Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher a couple of years ago. Didn't go down well, let me tell you. It's great, though, great- in fact the best witch I know isn't from a wizarding family…aaaand I'm babbling."

Ginny sat back in her chair, her face almost as red as her hair in total embarrassment.

"It's okay," said a smiling Kennedy. "I'm new to all this so thanks for the heads up."

Despite Kennedy's reassurance, for a while the only sound in the compartment was the rhythmic pounding of the wheels on the tracks, and the shallow, regular breaths of a sleeping Willow.

"So," ventured Ginny, trying to redeem herself, "what's yours and Willow's experience with the Dark Arts?"

Kennedy sighed. What a question. She knew she couldn't betray her Slayerhood on strict orders from Willow, but she wasn't about to lie about her past, not least because she was awful at it. "Me and Willow have been demon hunters for a while, actually. Mostly vampires, but some other ooky stuff, too. Willow's been doing it a lot longer than me, though- for almost eight years now, actually. I've been involved all my life but I never actually fought vampires one-on-one 'til about a year ago."

"You mean," gasped Ginny, for once all her easily haughty self-assurance drained from her face and voice, "you've actually fought a vampire!?"

"And more" grinned Kennedy, pleased by the impressed look on the young girl's face after a year of casual indifference to supernatural fiends in Sunnydale.

"Wow! Not even Harry's done that!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Harry…?"

"Never mind, long story. Seriously though, vampires!? Some people don't even think they exist!"

It was as Ginny Weasley made this naïve statement that the Hogwart's Express suddenly came screeching to a halt, the lights simultaneously cutting out, plunging the compartment into darkness. Further down the carriageway, a distant scream of fright sliced through the train like a knife.

"Oh," said Kennedy rising, whipping the stake from her anklet holster and stretching her muscles in grim preparation. "They exist."