The spell ended in a flash, filling the room with the stench of sulfur and blood and blinding both the sorcerer and sorceress. Before the purple spots cleared from Ethan's eyes, strong fingers tightened around his throat.

            "What place is this? Who are you to summon me from beyond the veil?"

            Ethan made a gurgling noise. Amy watched in horror as their new companion, so recently a cloth and plastic doll, now menaced her mentor. The three of them remained frozen for several seconds until the rest of the spell kicked in. Grindelwald's black eyes cleared, along with his mind, and he understood the purpose of his return.

            "Who sent you, conjuror?"

            "V-Voldemort," Ethan choked out.

            Grindelwald's dark eyes glinted. "Dear Tom. Such a special boy. I taught him well. Not well enough, it would seem, if he relies on an amateur such as yourself." He opened his hand and Ethan fell to the burnt carpet with a thunk.

            "I am hardly an amateur, my good man," Ethan rasped, rubbing his reddened neck.

            "I think we will all be better served by you simply calling me master. Now, this mission, these two girls, tell me – why does Tom wish them dead?"

            "I don't know."

            Grindelwald gave his wand a tiny shake. Ethan flinched.

            "Alright, alright, no need to get testy. Last year, Voldemort attacked Hogwarts. The two girls helped to show him the bloody door and stopped him from killing Dumbledore. He's after everyone who helped defeat him. He doesn't take embarrassment kindly."

            "No, he never did."

            "Well, he wants revenge for it. He created a vessel for the spell to bring you back and sent it here as a toy."

            "A toy?"

            "The auror whose room this is collects them. He's a bit of an odd duck. Lord Voldemort knew he would keep it here, and he hired me to perform the final pieces of the ritual. I'm something of a jack-of-all magics, you see, and he couldn't do the job himself. He needed the power of a preexisting spell to bring you back, and quite frankly the defensive spells surrounding this lovely little campus fit the bill perfectly."

            "I can see why you would be interested. I can smell the chaos on you." Grindelwald looked into the fire for a pensive moment. "So Hogwarts is without defenses?"

            "Not completely." Ethan grinned at his own cleverness. "The security spells, the ones that let Dumbledore know that security has been breached, are still in effect.

"And once we take care of the girls, then what? A stroll along the Thames, perhaps? Or do you consign me back to that half-life?"

            Ethan pulled himself to his feet. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, actually."

            Grindelwald sneered. "You needn't bother – I won't be returning. Perhaps when we're done here, I'll pay my protégé a visit. Best that I have something to offer when I do." He suddenly stopped and threw Ethan an angry glare. "Did you say … Dumbledore? Tom killed Albus?"

            "Unfortunately, no. He's quite alive. Had a nasty bout with some poison last year, but he lived through it. Tragic, that."

            Actually, Ethan didn't care a whit whether Dumbledore lived or died. He just knew it was what the reanimated wizard wanted to hear.

            "So Albus is here, then? We're at Hogwarts?"

            "He's the Headmaster."

            The smile on Grindelwald's face chilled Ethan and Amy to the core.

            "He and I have quite a bit of unfinished business." Grindelwald paused thoughtfully, remembering. "Quite a bit indeed. And these are to be my army?" He gestured towards several action figures lying inert on the red-stained floor."

            "We could get you others, if these don't suit you," Amy suggested hopefully. Her stomach was doing somersaults. She had finally realized how far in over her head she was. All she wanted was to get away from this creepy guy and do what she came here to do. She glanced at Ethan, but his face wore a genial mask of appeasement. No help there.

            "No need." Grindelwald reached down and ran the tips of his fingers over the plastic forms. "How have you arranged them?"

            "By genre," Amy answered. He raised a thick eyebrow; she moved closer and separated the figures into their appropriate groups. "The ones that belong in the same stories are grouped together. I thought you might take this one to kill the girls. They'll follow orders because they're really stupid. These three," she said, pointing to two inhuman figures and evil-looking sorceress, "I think we should just turn loose to have some fun."

            "And the last?"

            "He's with me. I'm here to get some payback on an old friend, and her boyfriend, well, he's the guy who lives here."

            "An auror, you said?" She nodded, and he understood. The demonic figure at her feet had a lightsaber in its hand.

            "Yeah. I figure if I'm up against Willow and Grey I'll need some help. She's pretty powerful, and I don't know much about him."

            Grindelwald's eyes lit up again. "Grey? Edward Grey?"

            "No," she drew the word out as she tried to remember Grey's first name, "I think someone said it was David."

            "It is indeed," Ethan agreed. "He's a former auror, I believe. Who is Edward Grey?"

            "What year is it?" Grindelwald asked, ignoring Ethan's question.

            "2004."

            "2004? I've been gone nearly sixty years. Edward is surely dead by now. Pity. I very much wanted that pleasure for myself." He glared at Ethan once more. "We will go ahead with your assistant's plan. Animate them."

            Ethan cast a baleful look at Amy. Then he knelt before the pentagram again and went to work.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny watched the episode with Buffy unfurl from across the dance floor. As Spike swung her up into his arms and followed Tara out, Professor McGonagall spun and walked straight for them.

            "You think she's okay?" Ron was unnerved by the sight of Buffy collapsing onto Spike. None of them had never seen Buffy the least bit incapacitated.

            "She's the Slayer," Hermione said tentatively. "She must have an enhanced constitution. She – she should be fine."

            "What did that blue glow mean?" Ginny asked. Ron and Harry shrugged. Hermione bit her lip, thinking the question over briefly before answering.

            "I believe it means she's ensorcelled. That would explain the bizarre collapse. I don't know offhand the particular spell," she admitted, disappointed.

            "That isn't your concern at the moment, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. She had crossed the Great Hall in record time. "Miss Summers will be quite alright once Spike and the others return her to California. Something else has arisen, however, and Professor Dumbledore has requested that the three of you return to Gryffindor Tower and retrieve your school robes at once." She leaned in a bit closer and added softly, "We are having a very important conference in the library. Professor Dumbledore wishes that you would attend. I suggest that you hurry – we will begin shortly."

            "What's going on?" Ginny asked as McGonagall walked away.

            The three Gryffindors traded a look.

            "Nothin' for you to be concerned about, Gin," Ron said. "Sixth year stuff." He nearly took a step back when Ginny responded with a glare worthy of his mother on her angriest days.

            "Don't you lie to me, Ronald Weasley! I know you guys're up to something. I know about your disappearing every night an' I know you've been hiding it from me." She looked crossly at Harry. "Tell me what's goin' on."

            Harry shook his head. "We can't Ginny."

            "It's for your own good," Hermione added guiltily. She hated keeping things from Ginny, but they had no choice.

            "Harry Potter," she said, her cheeks coloring, "you tell me what this is all about or-or-or … or I'll dump you so fast your head'll spin. And," she added with a glance at Ron, "I'll tell mum that something's happening an' get her to find out."

            Harry closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. His scar was groaning with pain, doubtless due to whatever was happening with Buffy, and the thought of losing Ginny made him nauseous on top of that. He could feel Ron and Hermione watching him. This was his call; they would back him up if he opted to tell her, he was sure of it, but he had to make the choice. Just like always.

He wanted to tell her. She was smart and powerful, and she would be a great asset to have helping them, but the knowledge would put her at great risk. He hadn't forgotten that Voldemort had a spy in Gryffindor, or that Death Eaters felt about torture the way he felt about Quidditch.

            The thought of Ginny thrashing about under the Cruciatus curse decided him.

            "Ginny," he said, placing a hand on each shoulder, "you know how much I care about you. Merlin knows that the thought of losing you makes me ill. But there are some things you can't know. Not because you aren't ready or I don't trust you. I do. With my life. This, though … some things we must keep from you, because if we don't … I couldn't bear what might happen to you."

            Ginny nodded, looking him straight in the eye as she removed her hands from his shoulders. "Then I guess you can go stuff yourself, Harry, cos we're through."

            She turned and walked away.

            Hermione placed a comforting hand on his back as she watched him blink away tears.

            "She'll come round, Harry," Ron said. "She's got a temper on her, but she'll come round. We don't …" Hermione shushed him, allowing Harry a few silent moments to gather himself.

            "Let's get this over with," Harry said shakily after a minute. The three of them wended their way across the crowded dance floor and out of the Great Hall. They didn't bother to look back.

            If they had, they might have seen Ginny stop, glance around furtively, and trail them out of the room.

            The stench of old blood assaulted Spike's nostrils the minute he stepped from the fireplace. He stopped short, blocking the exit from the fireplace and forcing Jess to shove him forward.

            "Watch it, Blondie. Tara 'n Buffy're comin' through."

            "Go back. Tell them to stop."

            "What? No. 'Sides, it's too late anyway. Why?"

            Spike scanned the room, then advanced to the window. "I can smell 'em. Cultists."

            "You can smell them? They have a special stink?"

            "Virgin's blood. Place reeks of it. It was all over their robes before."

            Tara chose that moment to pop out of the fireplace. Buffy stumbled out with her, managing to reach the couch before passing out completely.

            "I don't see any cultists, Spike. Or any anyone, for that matter," said Jess as she pulled the corner of the curtains aside.

            "C-cultists? They're here?" Tara asked.

            "The Nose over here says yeah."

            "Yer a bloody pain in the arse, you know that? Good or evil," he added.

            Her smile was equal parts sweetness and innocence. "Who, me?"

            "G-guys, seriously, where are they? I don't see anyone."

            "Perhaps if you looked harder, young lady."

            They spun around. Where there had been no one, there was now a blonde man in expensively cut clothes and a group of angry men in soiled white robes. Jess and Spike moved between the group and the other two, while Tara hastened to fashion a defensive barrier around Buffy.

            "I'm gettin' really sick of you showin' up at this house, mate."

            "This is the him?"

            "Yes master this is him master the vampire," Recks tittered next to him. The brown ball of fur hovered invisibly at his master's shoulder.

            "I am unimpressed." The blonde man turned his ice blue eyes on Jess, who had her wand out and trained on him. "Aren't you the feisty one. And so ripe with power. Who are you, girl?"

            "Your worst nightmare." Spike raised an eyebrow. "Grey usedta make me watch muggle movies."

            "Ah. Gotcha."

            Her witty banter failed to deter the blonde man. "You will answer me, witch."

            "No, yeh've got it wrong. It's bitch, y'see, with a B."

Spike barked a short laugh. The ice blue eyes shifted from her to him.

            "Hold your tongue, vampire. I will deal with you once I've taken my slayer from this place."

            "Yeah," Spike stretched the word out. "See, that's the part I don't think works for me." He morphed into game face and growled. "Get out."

            The blonde man took his turn to laugh. Then he waved distractedly to the robed men. "Kill them. Bring me my slayer And … make it hurt."

            Neville could hear Dawn's sniffling fifteen feet away. He kept to the courtyard shadows, hoping not to disturb her, but when he was nearly at her side, her thick voice broke the silence.

            "I know you're there. I've got a stake," she held it out in front of her in what she hoped was a menacing way, "and I know how to use it."

            "No need for that, Dawn," he said, stepping out of the darkness. "I don't fancy a gaping hole in the chest."

            She immediately lowered the stake, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, Neville. Sunnydale reflexes, y'know? Things that bump in the night tend to be of the bad."

            He lowered himself onto the stone bench next to her and made a point of keeping his eyes on the empty courtyard.

"Didn't mean to sneak."

            "Well, you did. Spike's got you all moving all ghosty, huh?"

            "Seems like it. I didn't really think much of it, but, yeah, I guess he does. He ever train you much?"

            "Nah. Buffy did, but not Spike. Too bad – he like's to fight dirty, and Buffy so wouldn't teach me any of that yet."

            "Shame."

            "Uh huh."

            They fell silent, and as it stretched out, Neville grew increasingly uncomfortable.

            "So … nice night for a walk, eh?"

            The corners of her mouth lifted into a half-smile. "Is this the part where you try and make me feel better?"

            "I can go, i-if you'd rather be alone."

            "No, you can totally make with the trying. I don't mind. Just don't expect results."

            He nodded, not quite sure what she wanted him to do or say. He went with the first thing that came to mind.

            "So, you fancy Fred then, do you?"

            Her eyes went spotlight-wide. Then, to his great relief, she giggled.

            "That may not have been the most tactful way to start this conversation."

            "Duh, no."

            "Let me start again." He looked away and looked back. "All right, Dawn?"

            "Actually … I kinda think you popped my sad balloon. Good job, Neville."

            Completely confused, he could only nod. She moved around a bit faster than he could follow.

            "He was kinda old for me, anyway," she said, putting on a calm expression. She didn't want Neville to feel like he had to make her feel better about a stupid crush. Ice cream with Xander later would do that.

            "If you say so."

            "Besides … Did you hear that?"

            She stopped; the sound of voices carried into the courtyard and Neville nodded. From somewhere outside of the torchlight, a high-pitched, scratchy rant was in progress.

            "… that insolent cur! I'll have his intestines on a necklace. No one orders the mighty Skeletor about!"

            "And it's good to see the mighty Skeletor prove that," a female voice snickered.

            "Do not try my patience, Evil Lyn, or I will leave you in this cursed world for the vultures to feed on."

            Dawn looked at Neville with alarm. She grabbed his arm and wordlessly pulled him down behind the bench as three figures entered the courtyard.

            "Why are they talking that way?" Neville whispered.

            "You mean like they're in an eighties cartoon?"

            "Umm…"

            "That guy with the blue skin and the purple hood? He's dressed like Skeletor, who's this bad guy in the He-Man cartoon. The chick is his sort-of girlfriend, and the other guy is muscle. I think his name is Beast-man."

            "Cartoon?"

            "Muggle kids watch them on tv, and I grew up with Xander. They're shows made with drawings instead of actors. How can you hang out with Grey and not know this? He's got toys from all the great cartoons …" Her voice trailed off as she saw Beast-man sniffing the air. "Oh damn."

            "Lord Skeletor, someone is here."

            "Bring them to me," said Skeletor haughtily, planting the Havok staff in the dirt.

            Dawn reached down and re-drew her emergency stake from beneath her dress. Neville reached back and tried to pull his axe from its holster, but he slipped and it dropped, the blade clanging noisily against the bench.

            Before he could recover it, two massive, hairy paws reached over the top and yanked them to their feet.

            "Hey! Quit it!" Dawn jammed the stake into Beast-man's arm; the giant creature howled and hurled them across the courtyard. They crashed down in front of Skeletor with all the grace of potato sacks.

            Beast-man charged across the grass, intent on tearing their heads from their bodies. Skeletor raised his staff and halted the minion in mid-stride.

            "Not just yet, Beast-man."

            Neville and Dawn were just conscious enough to hear him roar with frustration.

            "Now then, children, how long I hold him back is contingent on how much you tell me. What is this castle's source of power?"

            Dawn glanced at Neville and shrugged, as if to say "This one's all you."

            Neville gulped loudly. "S-source of power? What do you mean?"

            "Don't lie to me, you misbegotten fool. I can feel the power here. If I can absorb it, I will have more than enough to return home and conquer Castle Grayskull and that interloper He-Man. Tell me – what is its source?"

            "Dawn?"

            Her voice came out in a hiss. "He thinks he's really Skeletor!" She looked at the skeletal face visible beneath the hood. "And he got the skeletony face to go with it?  I think you have a fan boy prob-"

            A yellow blast from the eyes of his staff cut her off abruptly. She flipped over backwards and slammed to the turf. Neville didn't dare move to see if she was okay. His wand was still in the Gryffindor common room, and he didn't like his chances of going hand-to-hand with this crew.

            "I WILL HAVE THE SOURCE OF POWER OF THIS PLACE!" Skeletor screamed, firing a bolt of yellow energy at the sky.

            A low growl turned him around.

            "Or you'll have an aneurysm, buddy. I mean, sure, He-Man's a classic cartoon, but it's only a television show." Angel's ridges stuck out prominently in the shadowed courtyard. Gunn and Wesley had swords raised, while Cordelia's crossbow rested on her arm. "This is a bit much, don't you think?"

            "Who dares?"

            "Are we living a cliché or what?" Gunn said. Wesley nodded.

            "Why is it that the closest I ever get to being on tv is hitting people who are supposed to be on it?" Cordy asked rhetorically.

            "Beast-man! Evil Lyn! Kill them!" Skeletor screeched.

            "Here we go," Angel said, charging to meet them.

            "Please calm down."

            Every torch in the hallway flared as Willow turned her glare on Grey.

            "Also, there's no need for the look of death."

            "He lied to me! Giles lied to me!"

            The torches continued to rage, lighting the hallway up like day.

            "I think he just kept things from you, but I'm not defending him. I'm worried about you being angry and starting a bonfire right near my room."

            "Don't you quip with me, mister. Not now. My best friend is in serious danger and …"

            "And you're being protective Willow, but you can't protect her so you're being angry Willow at Giles instead. I get it."

            She poked him hard in the chest. "Don't downplay it like that, either. I have concerns here, legitimate concerns that he's gonna have to address."

            He grasped her wrists and pulled her tight to his chest, then spoke slowly and deliberately.

            "Yes. And he will. But now you need to settle down. You're scaring me. Look at the flames."

            Her rant rolled on as she yanked her arms away. "I don't care about the stupid flames. Oh no, they're extra flamey. Big whoop. Why don't you get this? Do you know how much danger Buffy's in? No, you don't, that's how much. You have no idea. Me either. I know it's big because Spike was all in Big Bad protective mode, but that's like … I don't even know, it's like something. And also …" She stopped suddenly, realizing she was alone. "Grey?"

            "Are you finished?" She had rarely heard him angry, and almost never with her, but he was practically snarling from the other end of the hallway.

            "You're all the way, you know, away."

            "Not much choice, really. Check out the wall."

            Scorched spots of black soot were burned into the unlit wall at regular intervals. The flames had retreated back into their torchieres for the moment, but it was clear what had happened.

            "I know you're upset about Buffy, Will. I'm upset too. Giles must have had a good reason for keeping it tight. Right now, though, I don't give a shit about that. You have to calm down, because your power is leaking out, and pretty soon it'll be a flood."

            She looked up and down the length of the hall.

            "I burned the wall."

            "Really? I hadn't noticed. I was too busy dodging columns of flame."

            He felt the tension drop a notch. She took a deep breath.

            "I burned the wall."

            "It'll clean. We'll ask Harry to have Dobby do it fast. No one'll know. Now come on. We'll change and go learn about the new Big Bad."

            Grey held out his hand, which she stomped down the hallway and took. The anger still smoldered behind her green eyes, but he figured this was as calm as he could hope for at the moment.

            They walked the rest of the way in silence, though he drew a small sigh from her by rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. When they reached his room, the door was wide open.

            "What the hell – Cadogan?" Grey called. "Why is the door open?"

            No one answered. He swung the door back and looked at Sir Cadogan's painting. The forest was empty. Willow brushed past him and entered the room.

            "This is not good."

            "Grey…" Panic wavered at the edge of her voice.

            "What?"

            He looked into the room, where the red pentagram and bloodstains had mixed together with strewn wreckage that had once been his possessions. The room reeked of sulphur and, in Willow's nose, black magic.

            "Son of a bitch." Grey's voice came out whisper quiet.

            "Somebody did a powerful spell. I can feel it. And it's not of the nice variety."

            Stunned, he meandered in and ran his hands over some of the burnt shelves. Nearly all of his toys had melted into blobs. Bits and pieces of charred paper sat in small piles, the minimal remnants of his book collection. The stench of ash and burnt plastic hung over the room like a shroud.

            "They burnt up all my stuff."

            She walked over and wrapped a comforting arm around his waist. "It'll be okay. We'll clean it up."

            "They burnt up all my stuff."

            "Not they, big man. We. And it was pretty fun." Amy leaned against the wall just outside the door, her blackened hair a stark contrast to her nearly translucent skin. Willow's eyes locked on her, and her nostrils flared. She released her lover's waist and took a step to the right.

Grey's attention was focused on the figure to Amy's left. The red blades of the creature's lightsaber shone fiercely in the dim hallway.

            "Jedi…" it hissed. Tiny horns crowned the red and black head skin drawn taut across its skull.

            "That's …" Grey couldn't even form words.

            "Darth Maul. I know. The things you can do with magic." Amy shrugged. "Neat, huh?"

            "You did this? Who are you? How the hell did he get here?"

            Amy opened her mouth to answer, but she never had a chance. A gale force wind filled the hallway, blowing Amy off her feet and halfway down the corridor.

            Grey looked at his lover. Her eyes were black as midnight.

            "Her name is Amy," Willow rasped, "and she is so about to bleed."