Disclaimer and summary found with prologue.

Thank you once again to you guys who reviewed and to my beta, afterlife, who caught my many, many mistakes. Thanks hon!

Well, I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter.

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Chapter Two:

Hello, Goodbye, Hello Again

He didn't like this place. The moment he'd first walked through its doors the year before, he had gotten a bad feeling about it. That and a face full of dust. He wondered what that muggle caretaker had done during all those years he'd lived here because it was obvious that he hadn't taken care of the house or the grounds. Not that there had been anyone here to complain, but for his Master to have to live in such a filthy place was despicable.

His Master was whole now; whole and ready to announce his presence to the world once more. Well, he was ready for his grand announcement. The Potter boy had to go and ruin his entrance. Such a nasty boy. Always looked too much like James. Not to mention he'd ruined his life with Weasleys. He would have been completely content to spend the rest of his days as a pet rat, being cared for and loved by whichever sibling he was passed to. But that nasty boy had to wreck everything. Now, he was reduced to hiding in a dirty house, praying that the Master and the other Death Eaters didn't notice him, and sneaking a meal whenever he could, since most of the food was reserved for the Master. He didn't eat until after the Master did – though he often had to test the food before allowing the Master to consume it. With Snape around, one couldn't be too careful.

Speaking of food, he was getting hungry. He wondered if the house elves that Malfoy had donated to serve the Master would make him a sandwich. Yeah, a big one, with lots of cheese.

"Wormtail," the Master called.

Peter squeaked and slowly moved from his shadowy corner towards the high-back chair where Lord Voldemort sat. The crackling fire made the room unbearably hot, but he dared not voice such a complaint. If the Master was comfortable, then he was as well.

"Yes, Master," he said, squatting low to the floor beside the chair.

Nagini, who had been curled up in front of her master like a reptilian bloodhound, lifted her head and watched Wormtail carefully, as if she hoped he would turn into a rat and be her dinner. He wanted to move away from her, but he was more afraid of what Lord Voldemort would do to him if he did.

"There is a man at the door," Voldemort said, lacing his long, bone-white fingers together. "Let him in."

"No need for that," a new voice said. "I just let myself in."

Wormtail yelped and fell back onto his bum, sending a puff of dust into the air. Nagini hissed at him, and Peter scrambled away from her.

The stranger coughed and waved his hand in front of his face. "You know, being an evil Dark Lord is no excuse for uncleanliness. If you want, I know a girl who works cheap. I could give you her number."

Wormtail watched the stranger. He looked like a muggle, dressed in a strange three-piece outfit with tiny strips. His dark hair was slicked back and he stood like he was waiting for the Knight Bus, not standing before the great Lord Voldemort. This muggle would not last long.

To Peter's great surprise, his Master chuckled at the man, then made his charmed chair turn around to face the intruder. To his credit, the muggle didn't flinch when he saw what the great Lord Voldemort had been reduced to. In fact, his face kept the same composed, even expression that it had when he walked into the room.

"Didn't your muggle parents teach you any manners?" Voldemort asked.

"They could have, but I can hardly remember that far back."

"I suppose you can ask them when I send you to see them," Voldemort said, lifting his wand rather lazily in his hand. "Perhaps you will be kind enough to give me your name before I send you on your way."

"Which name do you want? I have a ton of them."

Voldemort smirked. "Any will do."

"I suppose you can call me what most people do," he said, "the Immortal."

A high-pitched laugh echoed through the room. "Well, not for long, muggle." His wand shot towards the muggle, slicing through the air with a hiss. "Avada Kedavra!"

A green light slammed into the muggle's chest, knocking him off his feet and sending him crashing into the doors. The wood cracked from the impact, as the muggle's body now slumped motionlessly against it.

Sighing, Voldemort sat back in his chair. "That was far too lofty of a title for him. Get rid of him, Wormtail. And remind me to have a talk with Notts and Rookwood about their security measures."

Wormtail nodded and stood up, being sure to keep his head down as he passed his Master. The chair's legs began to turn the chair around when the muggle groaned and began to move. Peter yelled, and once more found himself on the ground, cowering away from the body. From his chair, Voldemort watched with a great deal of curiosity as the muggle's head slowly rose.

"I thought you were smart enough to know what the word 'immortal' meant," the muggle said, wincing as he moved to stand.

"How is that possible?" Voldemort demanded. "How could you survive the killing curse? No one can withstand it."

"Except for a boy with green eyes," the muggle said. He wobbled on his feet a bit, but was soon able to stand without a problem.

Growling, Voldemort got to his feet and once again pointed his wand at the intruder. "I demand to know," he said.

"Or you'll what? Kill me again?" the muggle snarked.

"I know some curses that are far worse than death," Voldemort replied.

The muggle snorted and crossed his arms. "And I'm sure I've experienced them all. But you have to understand I did not come here to fight with you."

The slits of the Master's eyes narrowed as he considered what the muggle said. "Why did you come here?"

It was then that the muggle smiled a smile that was almost as chilling as the Master's own. "I have a business proposal for you, my Lord."

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The first week of August was turning out to be one of the hottest and driest in recent history. The long days wasted away into short, hot nights that were filled with demon and vampire activity that Buffy hadn't seen even during her years on the Hellmouth. Really, she thought that the things that go bump in the night took the summers off. Or maybe they just did in Sunnydale, due to the annual spring apocalypses spending most of their energy. Whatever it was, she wished the demon community in London would do the same thing. Especially with it being as hot as it was outside.

She was just glad Michael had business to attend to tonight. Since his arrival in London a little over a week ago, he had hardly given her a moment alone. She liked the guy and all, and thought he was definitely boyfriend material, but it was hard to slay demons while your significant other was trying to convince you to keep them alive because they would owe you later and might provide some useful information. True as that may be, innocent people would get hurt if she did that and she couldn't allow that to happen. Michael didn't seem to understand that.

God, why couldn't she have a normal boyfriend – or possible boyfriend – just once?

"Ugh," she said, flopping onto one of the kitchen table chairs in Grimmauld Place.

Following her were Remus and Xander, both looking as hot and disgusting as Buffy did. Xander's tee-shirt had bits of mud and dirt clinging to it around the logo for a South African hotel. Remus' newly-bought muggle clothes were ripped and covered in grass stains; his graying hair now had a solid brown color thanks to the dirt from a freshly-dug grave. He was also sporting a black eye that had just started to change colors.

From the end of the table, Sirius and Willow stared at the trio while Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Good heavens!" she exclaimed, before launching herself at Xander, who happened to be the one closest to her. She twisted his head from side-to-side, checking for injury at every possible angle before moving on to Remus.

"Merlin, what happen to you three?" Sirius asked.

"We found a nest," Buffy answered as Mrs. Weasley cast a healing charm on Remus's black eye.

Willow moved to the chair closest to Buffy's and looked from her to the guys. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Peachy," Buffy replied with a large smile, though she winced from the pain of one of her cracked ribs. When she saw Willow's concerned face, she joked, "Hey, you should see the other guy."

"Oh, look, here's a piece of him," Xander said, brushing some of the dust off himself. "And I think Remmy here has some of the others in his hair."

Remus glared at Xander, and Buffy just kept herself from laughing at them. "Please do not call me that," he said.

"Yeah, call him Renee, he loves that one," Sirius said.

"Renee?" Buffy asked, chuckling.

Remus growled. "Sirius."

"Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?" Xander asked with a large smile.

Sirius barking laugh rang throughout the room while Remus glared daggers at him, when suddenly Ron ran into the kitchen. His face was flushed and his eyes wide as he looked from one person to another until he found Sirius.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Sirius," he gulped. "Dumbledore, he…it's…Harry."

At the mention of his godson, Sirius jumped from his seat and headed towards the front parlor, the others following close behind him. This wasn't good. Not good at all.

Even though Buffy had never met Harry, she knew that he was important. He was also supposed to be safely tucked away at his Aunt and Uncle's house for the moment. So the only reason he would be mentioned is if something had happened, because Dumbledore had refused to let the boy come to Grimmauld Place for the time being.

When they reached the parlor, they found Dumbledore standing there with an old woman in a bathrobe and Mundungus. The woman was crying, while Mundungus just looked guilty. He was the one who was supposed to be watching Harry that night. Wasn't he?

For his part, Dumbledore looked much older than Buffy had ever seen him. The twinkle that was always in his eyes was gone, and a thin, sad frown was on his face.

"Dumbledore," Sirius said. It was amazing how one word could beg for such a lengthy explanation.

But the old wizard did not say a word. Instead, he sighed and then held out his hand. In it, he held a holly wood wand.

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Harry stared at his cousin as the latter smiled smugly. A hot wind blew through the alley, stinging the back of Harry's neck, but he didn't notice. "What are you on about, Dudley?" he asked.

"I hear you at night," Dudley said. Clapping his fat hands together, he looked to the sky and began to mock Harry. "'No, Cedric! Help me, Mum! Help me, Dad!'" Dudley snorted, making him now not only look like a pig but sound like one as well. "Who's Cedric? Your boyfriend?"

"Shut it, Dudley."

"Oh, but I'm just getting started. 'There's so many. Keep them away. Please, Dad, keep the demons away.' You really are twisted, aren't you?"

"I said shut it!"

Harry blinked when he saw the sudden terror in his cousin's eyes and realized it was because he had drawn his wand and had it pointed at Dudley. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't do this. Dudley wasn't worth getting expelled from Hogwarts and thrown out of the wizarding community. The problem was that Harry didn't care at that moment. The weeks of frustration caused by his not knowing anything, of his friends' cryptic messages and Sirius' empty letters, of having to be stuck with his rotten family while the others were together for the summer, were the only thing he could think of. And he wanted someone to feel as frightened and frustrated as he did at that moment.

"You can't. They'll toss you out of that place," Dudley said, his eyes flicking back and forth between Harry and the wand.

Harry grinned. "How do you know they didn't change that law, Big D?"

"They didn't," Dudley replied. "We'd know."

"That right," Harry said. "How?"

He didn't have an answer for that. They both knew that Petunia and Vernon would have no word of anything concerning the magical world in their house, so for all they knew, Harry could very well do magic outside of school now. He couldn't, and they were still pretty sure of that, but pretty sure and absolutely positive were two different things. With pretty sure, you could still frighten people.

That was when Harry felt it. The air around him was no longer hot and dry, but bone- chilling cold. And dark, so much darker than it had been mere moments before. No moon, no street lights; it was like being shut up in the cupboard with all the lights in the house off on the darkest night. All the happiness leaked out of Harry and he couldn't stop the shudder that traveled up his spine.

"What's going on?" Dudley asked. "What are you doing? You'd better stop it."

"Shut it," Harry said.

"I mean it," Dudley said. "You'd better stop or I'll hit you."

"I said shut it," Harry said testily, when something hard connected with the side of his head. He fell to the ground hard and felt his wand slip from his hand as flashes of light appeared before his eyes. Groaning, Harry felt around in the dark for his wand. When he found it, he wrapped his hand around the handle, shot it up in the air, and said, "Lumos."

The tip of Harry's wand began to glow, casting a ghostly light through the alleyway. He could see them, gliding towards him at the end of the alley. Their black cloaks moved in a non-existent wind, making the air feel chillier, if that were at all possible.

Dementors. Dementors were in Little Whinging.

And Dudley was running right at them.

"Dudley, stop!" Harry yelled to his cousin, but he continued to run, either not hearing him or choosing to ignore him.

Struggling to his feet, Harry tried to find a happy memory powerful enough to conjure a Patronus. It was true that he didn't like his cousin, but even Dudley didn't deserve to have the Dementor's Kiss performed on him.

Suddenly, a flash of white light filled the alley, temporarily blinding Harry. When he regained his sight, he saw his cousin lying on the ground, while a strange looking woman dressed in a red bodysuit stood between him and the Dementors. Dudley stared up in terror at her, before scrambling back towards Harry. Apparently, between the two of them, he was less afraid of Harry than of the woman. The Dementors stopped in their tracks and floated in the air for a moment, as if they were trying to decide what to make of the woman that stood in their path.

The woman tilted her head to the side as she regarded them. "Mortiliouses. I did not expect your kind to survive to this age," she said. "Leave now, and I'll spare your pathetic existences."

Harry blinked at the woman. She would spare 'their' lives?

After several seconds, the Dementors began to approach the woman. Their hoods were pulled back as they prepared to Kiss her. The woman didn't move.

"You have not gained knowledge with age, I see," she said.

Harry watched in awe and horror as the woman attacked the two creatures. Her fist struck out at the one closest to her, striking it in the head. It made a high-pitch screeching sound, which caused both Dudley and Harry to cover their ears. When Harry looked again, the woman had taken the Dementor in her hands, before throwing it into the other one. They crashed into the alley wall with a sickening crunch. Calmly, she walked to one of the trash bins and pulled out a metal bar that appeared to have been broken off from a chair.

The Dementors flew at her, both attempting to Kiss her as they passed by. Harry remembered that feeling and shuddered as he watched someone else experience it. Unlike Harry, though, the woman appeared not to be affected by them. Instead, when one of them made another pass, her hand shot out and grabbed the creature's throat. It once more screeched and scratched and pulled to loosen her grip, but she held tightly onto it.

"Stupid creature," she said contemptuously. "I once dined on your kind."

The woman then took the metal pipe and rammed it right thought the Dementor's head. Harry just stopped himself from screaming. He watched as the Dementor seemed to swell before exploding into ash. A cold rush of air blasted through the alley, nearly knocking Harry to the ground. He stumbled a moment, then regained his footing.

The death of the Dementor must have scared off its companion because light and heat started to slowly return to the alley. The woman stood there for several minutes, staring down at the pile of ash, then turned back to the two boys.

If Harry had thought that this woman wasn't normal before, he knew for sure now that she was facing them. Her face and hair were partly an unnatural blue and her eyes were a crystal blue color that Harry had only seen in ice. The body suit she wore was in fact a type of armor and was molded perfectly to her body.

She looked at Dudley. "You are Harry Potter, the spawn of James Potter." She tilted her head to the side. "You are much fatter than I expected."

"I'm not Harry." Dudley, who looked as if he might pee on himself, pointed at Harry while keeping his wide, frightened eyes on the woman. "He's Harry."

'Way to hold out, Big D,' Harry thought.

The woman turned her gaze to him. Harry tightened his grip on his wand and held it at her as she walked towards him. "Stay back," he said, trying to sound as threatening as he could, but the words stuck in his throat. "I'm warning you, stay away."

"You are Harry Potter," she said.

Harry gulped. "I don't know who you are, but I'm warning you. I'll use this."

"He's Harry!" Dudley yelled. "He's Harry Potter!"

"Shut it, Dudley!" Harry shouted back. The woman continued to advance towards him. "Stay-." Her hand shot out and wrapped around Harry's wrist before giving it a painful twist. He screamed and watched in terror as his wand fell to the ground. The woman looked to the wand on the ground, then back at him.

"You come with me," she said.

Before Harry could say another word, he felt a strange swish travel through his body and he and the woman disappeared from Little Whinging.

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James dug in the cabinets under the front desk in the hotel's lobby. He knew he had seen a box of tea here when he had been looking for a key to a room, he just knew it. Now if he could only find the bugger.

"I'm tellin' you, there's nothing there, mate," Spike said, sitting on the counter.

Spike was smoking a cigarette and looking rather bored as he kicked his feet back and forth. Of course, he probably was, since Angel had been busy that morning speaking with the bank about the hotel's mortgage, Sarah was still researching, and Illyria had gone missing early that morning. With Lorne away visiting that Gunn fellow in the hospital, that had left only Spike and James to wander about the hotel. Since he had no one else to bother, the vampire had decided to tag along with James that day.

"And I'm telling you there is," James said, moving another stack of fashion magazines that were several years out of date. Merlin, he couldn't get use to the fact the pictures didn't move. It was just eerie, like they had died or something.

"Do you really think that Watcher Boy would have left a box of his precious imported tea here when they moved out?" Spike asked, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.

"Well, I don't remember taking it out, so, yes, I do believe he did," James said, opening another drawer. He smiled when he saw a box with a British tea company's logo printed on it. Holding it up, he smirked at Spike. "Told you it was here."

Spike grumbled something when a flash of light exploded into the middle of the lobby. When it disappeared, James saw Illyria standing there, holding onto a boy's wrist. He looked utterly terrified as she held onto him.

James blinked as he stared at the child. He – he looked just like him.

From the counter, Spike said, "Bloody hell. We're in for it now."

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