Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince…And Others
Chapter Eight Mischief Managed

Voldemort ran a spindly hand over the top of his smooth head and cackled wildly at the images swirling in the cauldron. The pendant the vampiress wore had penetrated the complex web of protection spells Dumbeldore had enforced onto the gaurded fortress. He would win, for certain. He had control of a powerful and destructive force, planted right under the old man.

Dumbledore was too trusting.

For sure, his many resources would find out about Snape's loyalty, and it was certain Draco wouldn't finish his task without the help of a wiser one than Snape. All the pieces were in place. One just needed to say 'Check'.

Oz brushed a hand over the polished silver hand mirror. Turning it over, he re-examined the crisscrossing work of letters in the handle. It had been hard to read at first, under a few unpolished layers of filth, but when he had found it out, he'd known that the etching had only been placed there recently.

The Latin words proved it.

"Buffy!" The word rose louder and higher and longer each passing second it took for her sister to get into her room. When the blonde finally arrived to see her sister clutching the parchment, and her green eyes wide, she snatched it from her. Dawn sidled next to her, and pointed a chipped pink nail at the bottom left corner of the parchment.

Buffy breathed a soft "Oh," before turning to the open door.

"Spike!"

Spike stood stock still, listening to the airy humming that drew closer and closer. When the door seemed to push open on its own, he darted from behind it and wrapped his arms around the vampire, who squealed and kicked her legs, her face immdeiatly slipping into game face as she struggled against the hold. Her fangs sank into his arm, and he cursed, dropping her heavily. She scrambled up just as Buffy pounced and held her down. Dawn arrived shortly after with manacles and clasped them around the flailing hands of Drusilla.

"Oh, poor mummy, chained up like this!" she wailed as Spike dragged her onto the couch. She rested her hands above her head. "But mummy plays good games like this, if her little William will let her loose. She wiggled her body at him, hopeful yellow eyes shunned by icy blue ones.

"You played us, Dru." He said coldly.

"Oh, Miss Edith will be so sad. Mummy cannot give her her cookies for keeping a secret. Shh, shh. Don't tell, don't tell."

"You're working for Voldemort." Buffy said, arms crossed. "You lied to us."

"But my Sweet Tom will present me with your heads. On a silver platter, he promised, and we shall all make merry in the blood of your children." She finished with a giggle and Buffy stepped fowards and slammed her fist into her face. There was an audible crack, and Drusilla was left unconscious on the couch.

Fragment of the fallen one, key to the destruction of another, and the death of a worm in the kings court.

The words were loosly translated from his days with a Warlock in Turkey, but Oz knew what it meant. Having been updated on the situation of the risen evil that was Lord Voldemort from recent contact with Giles, Oz had aquired the mirror by almost impossible means, and now it sat wrapped in brown paper baggage, headed with him on a trip that would lead him to two new adventures. He was almost giddy - he was sure his lip had twitched upwards a while ago when he thought of seeing his old friend again.

Lupin had left him at the train station with specific directions on boarding the train. It was akward at first, leaning into a wall, expecting to go through and only feeling the hardness before swoosh and he was faced by a scarlet steam engine billowing smoke. Only a few stately men were milling around, and a few hefty packages of supplies that were to be shipped to the school were on the ground, being loaded via swooshing wands that levitated them to fit nicely in storage areas.

Boarding the train, Oz passed through compartments that either had a funky smell, too light, too dark, or with the very rare passenger going into Hogsmeade or visiting Dumbledore, until he found one nearer to the back of the bus than the others. Stuffing his bag up in the compartment, he slumped into the seat. For the longest time, he simply stared at the twine and strings of metal that dug into his flesh. Soon, a jerking noise caught his attention, and to his contempt he unlocked the compartment door to be faced by a smiling brunette.

"Fancy catching you here, wolf-boy." Faith smiled plump cherry lips and mussed up brown locks at him. He smirked quietly and open the door wider to accomadate the newest passsenger.

"Same to you Faith."

Harry yawned heavily and looked down at the book in his lap. Something about history on pure blood families. In his spare time, he'd become obsessed with tracing his heritage and that of Voldemort and Sirius. He often saw the same surname in many a family tree that filed ten, twenty pages long sometimes. He was flipping through Amstdale when he flipped a few pages forward and slammed his hand down at the sighty of a familiar name. Black. He taced downwards a few pages and found Sirius's name and birthdate, and then flipped his eyes upwards, scanning for familiar surnames until he chanced upon a familiar first name...William...William Black...When had he heard that name?

History of Magic...Hermione raised her hand, and the wizened proffesor looked up through bushy eyebrows.

William Black. Lived sometime in the 1800's. A poet, they called him William the Bloody for the blood awful poetry he wrote. He was turned at the age 28 and became a part of the Scourge of Europe, who favored the blood of Witches and Wizards while in England.

Of course. Sad, partly, that that bit of information should be stored back there, but he understood it now. William Black had a brother- younger- who was only thriteen when William was turned. His name was Johnathon. William..he was a squib, then, wasn't he? And his brother started a line greater than many others, with over seven sons and daughters...only three survived to have children of their own. Closing his eyes, he shut the book and breathed heavily. Opening it again, he stared at the small lettering. William Black. And further down, another familiar name. Sirius Black.

The train rocked back and forth. Outside the compartment, the lights had long been turned on, and the flashed at the outside darkness eerily. Oz sat, looking out the window, ears perked to Faiths' words.

"Yeah. The G-man told me about the mirror. Said he gave it to someone to bring to Buffy, didn't say who, but thought it best I offer my protective skills."

"Oh, really. How goes the Slaying anyways? Heard there were a bunch of Slayers running around."

"Yeah. It was all red," Faith said, smiling as she remembered. "She's wicked awesome at the whole magic and shit." She smiled kindly at Oz. "You'd be proud of her. Oz smiled at this. He turned warm eyes to Faith.

"I know I would."

Suddenly, the train began to screech slowly to a halt. Oz's brow furrowed."We can't be there yet."

Following his words, the train lights flickered out, and a minute later, a shrill shriek was raised from the front of the train. Faith swore under her breath, looking out at the aisle with dread in her eyes. "I think we've got company."