AUTHOR'S NOTE Amy Madison belongs to the Buffyverse, but she's such a cool DADA teacher! The Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes specifically referenced in this chapter are: The Witch (season 1), Graduation Day Part Two (s3), Gingerbread (s3), Smashed (s6), Teacher's Pet (s1), and Bad Eggs (s2). This isn't really a BtVS crossover. I'm just borrowing Amy.

And I'm sorry that I haven't updated this is just under forever. I have terrible writer's block on this story. So it's still currently on pause, but hopefully not for too much longer.

DISCLAIMER I don't own anyone in this chapter.

Thanks to my reviewers and especially Miss Piratess!

…

Conveniently, N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the next day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked to class with Dean and Parvati. They were the only Gryffindor 6th years in the class, aside from Neville, who was still unconscious.

Professor Madison got up to start the class when Draco Malfoy of all people stood up. "Professor, with all due respect, I don't think we can deal with a class right now." All trace of smugness was out of his voice. "It's too soon."

Hermione was utterly stunned to find herself actually feeling sorry for Malfoy. But he sounded broken-hearted. He and Pansy had been betrothed since their births.

Professor Madison looked sadly at her class. "I understand." She paused. "What should we use this time to do?"

Surprisingly, Malfoy had given Harry the opportunity he needed. "Professor?" he asked, standing up. "Could you tell us about magic in America?"

Amy looked at her class. They all seemed interested. "Okay. America is very much the same as Great Britain, except that most witches and wizards learn wandless magic."

"Brilliant!" Dean said.

Hermione leaned over to Harry. "Why didn't you ask her specifically about what we need to know?" she whispered.

Harry shrugged. "I thought, 'hey are there any American spells that suck out your blood' would sound odd."

Hermione smiled a little and begrudgingly turned back to Professor Madison. "How did you learn magic?" Ernie MacMillan asked a little dreamily.

"My mother. I watched her and learned until she left when I was 15."

"Where did she go?" Parvati asked, curiosity overriding her jealousy.

Professor Madison cracked a smile. "She was trapped in a cheerleading trophy in my old high school. A spell of hers backfired."

"What was she trying to do?" Malfoy asked.

"Put me there."

Malfoy looked a cross between aghast, impressed, and amused. "Well do you ever visit her?"

"I would…" Professor Madison's eyes sparkled a little. "But the trophy was in my high school and my high school sort of blew up, so I'm not entirely sure what happened to her."

The N.E.W.T DADA class looked at their teacher with a new respect. "What else have you done?" Ron asked, as the topic of trophy-trapped mothers did little for their investigation.

Professor Madison looked deep in thought. "I spent three years as a rat."

"You're an animagus?" Dean asked. "Wicked!"

The professor half-laughed, half-grimaced. "Animagi have control over their transformations. I didn't. My own demon-brainwashed mother was burning me at the stake and I transformed myself into a rat to escape the fire. I never could figure out how to turn myself back. Three years later, another witch, a friend of mine, finally found the reversal spell."

"Wow…" Dean muttered dreamily.

But Harry was paying rapt attention. "A demon?" he asked, feigning innocent curiosity.

"Oh yeah." Professor Madison waved a hand. "My town was not what you'd call normal. Teachers turned up beheaded, demon parasites laid eggs under the school, scores of people turned up drained of all their blood…"

Bingo.

Suddenly, she realized what she'd said. So did the entire class. She sighed. "It's not what you think. Sunnydale was prime hunting grounds for vampires. Miss Parkinson was not killed by a vampire."

The entire class slumped. Hermione looked glumly at her friends. "Back to square one."

.i.i.i.

Square one was a dangerous place to be. With no knowledge of the attacker, everyone was in danger. Some students walked in packs, huddled together in fear.

Others, however, didn't. After all the mayhem they'd seen (and caused) over the years, Fred and George Weasley were afraid of very little at Hogwarts. And, being students only two days out of the week, they didn't foresee themselves as likely targets.

They spent much of their time in Gryffindor's common room. It was familiar, as well as a good place to concoct pranks. The 18-year-old twins clamored excitedly out of the secret entrance and took off down the hall. A large portrait swung to cover the secret doorway as a very large lady in a pink dress glared disapprovingly at them.

"You have the creams, right?" one twin asked the other.

"Yes Fred!" George grinned. "I fixed them up really pretty. If we arranged them right, those bloody arrogant Slytherins at the match tomorrow will think the Canary Cream Fairy left 'em for them!" The twins grinned maliciously as they reached the Quidditch stadium and climbed into Slytherin's section of the stands.

"I don't know why Dumbledore won't let us play again," Fred complained as they neared the open Quidditch seating area. "Gryffindor's team wouldn't be quite so…" His voice trailed off.

"Fred? What's…" George came up behind his brother. The Canary Creams fell from his hand and landed in a heap as he looked down onto the two figures lying still on the grassy pitch.

The twins turned and raced down the stairs, all thoughts of their prank gone. Both skidded to a halt when they saw the two bodies. A man lay flat on his back with a girl sprawled over his chest.

Her red hair fanned out and stuck in the damp mud.

"Ginny?" George whispered.

"Ginny!" Fred shouted and the twins ran to their little sister. They dropped to their knees in the mud. George held her wrist.

"She's alive!" he breathed, giddy with relief.

"Can't say the same for him," Fred said sadly, holding the wrist of the other body. Ginny's cold hand was still clutched in his lifeless one. "Looks like our little sister had a secret from us," Fred commented, indicating the clasped hands.

"Let's see who he was," George muttered glumly, brushing Ginny's hair from the man's face.

"Bloody hell…"