Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

A/N: I made a mistake when I posted this story. I forgot to put it on the T rating, but I've changed it now, as you can see.

Chapter Three: The Explanation.

Harry met Dumbledore coming out of the entrance to the Dark Tunnel. They made small talk while they got their brooms from the holding area. Harry told him about meeting the Bunyip.

"Amazingly resourceful creatures," Dumbledore had said.

He also told him about how the shopkeeper hadn't been able to recognise Harry or his scar, and learned, to his surprise, that he wasn't as famous as he'd thought.

"Voldemort wasn't a threat to any country besides England and to an extent Europe . . . yet! By the other wizarding countries of the world he was something that wasn't their problem, and so didn't bear thinking about. Of course they heard about him and you, but it won't jog their memories straight away," Dumbledore had explained.

Harry was ecstatic. No one here would recognise him. He could walk about wherever he wanted to. He could finally be normal, like everyone else. But then Dumbledore explained that he should still hide his scar behind his fringe as it wasn't certain that he wouldn't be recognised either, and Harry agreed.

They made their way down the tunnel again, descending almost vertically until they reached the stepping-stone; the entrance to the Underwater Wizard Motel.

Dumbledore stamped his foot three times on the rock and said in a clear voice, "The Shellock Upps."

Harry felt a foreboding intrude on his thoughts. A second later he knew was right to feel it because the stone began to sink into the water. Slowly at first, then picking up momentum. He half expected the water to come crashing down on them, but as they sunk into it a sort of bubble erupted from the perimeter of the stone and encircled them, trapping them inside, dry and comfortable, while the water swirled machine-washingly above their heads.

They kept descending, Harry realised that the stone and bubble acted as an underwater transparent elevator. The lichen light on the bottom of the sea floor revealed underwater coves and caverns which, Harry saw, appeared to be inhabited by merfolk, and not like the ones in Hogwarts' lake either. These were beautiful, resembling the mermaid in the painting hanging on the wall in the Prefects bathroom. Newt Scamander did write that prettier mermaids could be found elsewhere in the world.

A couple of mermaids – one blue haired the other blonde – appeared before them, swimming around the bubble and frolicking merrily. Harry noticed their hands were webbed, rather like his had been when he'd eaten that gillyweed. They were very beautiful and ethereal looking in the lichen lighted water.

Harry noticed a peculiar glint in their eyes as they turned their heads towards him. Suddenly they giggled and thrashed their tails, performing flips in the water. They swam right next to the bubble and stared down at Harry. The blonde mermaid kissed the exterior of the bubble and waved girlishly at him. Harry blushed scarlet. Dumbledore pierced them with a stern look and flapped an impatient hand in their direction. They scattered, swimming into the darker waters.

Harry sighed in relief, glad the experience was over. He had felt rather like the anticipated chocolate cheesecake of an extremely bland and disappointing four-course meal under their scrutiny.

The stone finally stopped moving, making a grating sound as it fitted itself into a hole in the ground, as though it were the piece of a puzzle that had been missing. It was pitch dark.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Dumbledore said, sounding put out.

Harry was taken aback. Surely Dumbledore wasn't talking to him? But there was no one else here. He was just about to open his mouth and ask when Dumbledore broke the silence.

"Turn yourselves on, would you? I don't particularly care to trip over my robes in the darkness."

Harry's mouth dropped, though he should have expected it. Slowly, a faint bluish light became visible, shining above them.

The lichens.

Along with the light there also came a gentle jabbering, squishy sort of noise, and Harry realised that it originated from the lichens themselves. They were alive! And talking to each other apparently.

"We'll have none of that now," said Dumbledore, staring up at them with his best professor expression. "We are your guests. There is no cause to be rude, is there?"

The jabbering halted immediately.

Dumbledore looked at Harry with self-satisfied sort of smile. "Extremely rude brand of fungi, are magical lichens," he explained. "But easily offended. Follow me Harry."

Harry noticed they were walking in a tunnel. It smelled of seaweed and dampness. The rock was slippery under Harry's shoes. But unlike the other tunnels Harry had been in today, he could see the end of this one, as the lichens grew mould-like along the entire length of the ceiling. There was a large round door, taller and wider than Hagrid, at the base of the tunnel. It was made from the same rock as the material they were walking on.

They stopped before it.

Harry couldn't see any doorhandles, so how were they going to enter?

Dumbledore stepped forward and rapped on the door with his knuckles.

There was a scraping noise as the stone door opened and Harry was hit with a blast of warm, drowsy air. It was extremely inviting.

As they entered, Harry felt his mouth drop for what seemed the thousandth time that night. They had stepped into what look like a primitive, underwater palace. There were a few, entirely round rooms and parlours that conjoined with each other, making up a completely new room in the middle, of which there was a round bar. The resort was constructed of material that appeared to be whitish, marble sand. There were large, roundish windows that looked out into the sea. Harry could make out a couple of mermaid shapes swimming around.

There were a few patrons milling about. A couple looked their way as they stepped in, but seeing nothing of interest except an old man and a rather weedy kid, they turned their attention back to their conversations and drinks.

There was another odd thing Harry noticed about wizarding Australia. Its style of clothing was completely different than in wizarding Britain. Yes the wizards still wore robes, but their's appeared rather like the ancient muggle Roman or Greek style togas than actual 'dresses.' They looked light, cool, and comfortable, because, Harry suspected, the people would need to feel cool and airy in the warm climate of Australia.

"Why don't we get something to eat?" Dumbledore suggested.

Harry's neck grew red as he felt his stomach rumble at that exact moment. Dumbledore smirked a knowing grin and jaunted off to the bar, Harry trotting dutifully behind, his face still holding an expression of awe as he gazed at his surroundings.

Dumbledore chatted to the barkeep (a short, rotund fellow that smelled of raspberries) as Harry settled his gaze on a commotion happening to his right.

In the open doorway of the kitchen a lobster had apparently escaped the constraints of its crate prison and was currently scuttling between the legs of its wardens. For a lobster it was extremely fast and agile. Harry watched as it dodged a stunner, then bypassed a saucepan lid that came bearing down from the hand of a chef. Red and blue sparks shot everywhere as the kitchen staff tried to stop the wily crustacean before it reached the door.

One last shouted "Stupefy!" from the chef, however, didn't manage to dissuade it and only caused a pile of dirty dishes to clatter deafeningly down by the door. The lobster scurried forward, bypassing the dishes and shooting through the doorway, before darting under a nearby table.

Harry thought only one thing as he watched the kitchen staff descend on the lobster, avoiding its clicking pincers, and hoist him into a potato sack; he was not having lobster tonight.

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Harry spooned a last mouthful of the extremely sweet Pavlova cake before leaning back in his seat and taking a deep breath. After three courses he was feeling full and sleepy and wishing that Dumbledore would finally tell him about Elizabeth.

It was almost midnight here, and Harry, despite having a body clock that was telling him it was only three in the afternoon, was almost dozing in his squishy parlour chair. The excitement of the day, he supposed.

Dumbledore had arranged rooms, dinner, and a private parlour for them, (which meant no windows and curious mermaids peering in) and had also paid for everything – to Harry's extreme protest and embarrassment. And now that dinner was over, Harry was feeling anxious, hoping Dumbledore would get on with it.

"Now then Harry," said Dumbledore finally, after taking a gulp of seaweed juice from his goblet (Harry had been too apprehensive to try it) "I expect you want to know who Elizabeth is."

Harry only nodded, wishing Dumbledore would hurry up.

Dumbledore weaved his fingers together and rested them on the wooden table. "I must confess I was surprised and more than a little shocked when I got your owl."

Harry was almost jumping in his seat.

"You see Harry, she wasn't supposed to contact you yet."

Harry felt like yelling "Who? Who wasn't supposed to contact him yet?" but he bit his tongue to stop himself. Dumbledore would explain it eventually, even if Harry died from the anticipation.

"We agreed that after you finished your schooling, only then would your sister reveal her existence to you, because any time before that would be extremely dangerous. But I suppose the return of Voldemort hasted her decision along."

Harry only just managed to keep his jaw from dropping. He had expected a distant cousin or uncle, another godparent perhaps, but not something of this magnitude. He had a sister! He had a sister and nobody told him? Dumbledore knew?

Harry clenched his fingers into his thighs as he felt the horrible twist in his stomach burn all the way up his spine, spreading into his heart. Why hadn't Dumbledore told him? Why hadn't Aunt Petunia, or Sirius, or Lupin?

"I understand your anger Harry."

Harry's head shot up and glared at Dumbledore's sorrowful face.

"Before you start yelling, I must tell you that there was a reason you didn't know about your sister and it had everything to do with your family."

Harry felt his brows form into a confused frown.

"I'll start from the beginning. I beg you to listen and not to interrupt unless it is a question that benefits your understanding of this situation."

Dumbledore's old, wise eyes stared at Harry over the top of their spectacles. Harry felt himself nodding.

"Very good then."

Dumbledore took another drink from his goblet, settled it down with a chink on the table, and sighed long and tiredly.

"I suppose it all began in your parents' seventh year at Hogwarts. Your mother became pregnant around the last month of that school year. About three months later they were married, employed, and living in a comfortable house in Godric's Hollow. Five months later, little Elizabeth Potter was born on the 19th of March 1976. A couple of months after that they named Sirius her godfather."

Harry's eyes, which had been staring into Dumbledore's beard, snapped up at this.

"Yes, Sirius is also her godfather, though he doesn't know it."

Harry frowned in confusion.

Dumbledore must have noticed it because he said, "All will be explained shortly. Now, four years after that, they had you Harry."

Dumbledore paused here as if reliving a horrifying event, and probably was. "That was when Death Eaters attacked Hogsmede for the first time. Your parents, sister, and you were there. You and your parents escaped unharmed, Elizabeth was killed."

Harry opened his mouth in disbelief and confusion, but Dumbledore jumped in before he could say anything.

"Or at least, that was what your parents and I decided to tell the world."

Dumbledore stopped here, apparently thinking Harry wanted to say something. He was right

"So, only you and my parents knew Elizabeth was still alive?" he asked.

"Harry, we didn't only know, we were the ones who sent her away."

"Why?" The word exploded out of Harry's mouth in a sort of accusatory groan.

"For her training, Harry. And your family's protection from Voldemort."

Seeing Harry's confusion, Dumbledore began to explain. "Do you know what a Slayer is Harry?"

Harry couldn't see what this bizarre question had to do with his sister but he answered anyway. "Someone who kills people?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, you're thinking of the word slayer in the general sense. I mean the magical creatures, the Chosen Ones, the ones with a birthright ordained from generations previous, and ones who cannot escape their destiny because it is in their blood. Ones with the strength of a troll, the speed of a cheater, and other such supernatural powers. Ones who destroy anything in the dark side because it is unavoidable for them. Ones who, on top of that, are also wizards and witches. "

Harry shook his head, having never heard of magical creatures such as this before. He had a brief image of a Hagrid-like figure bludgeoning Death Eaters with a club.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, staring at him piercingly, "Your sister is one of the Slayers."

Silence.

"Your paternal grandmother was one of the Slayers. Her mother before her was, her mother before her, her grandmother before her, and so on. The Slayer line can skip a generation if the current Slayer has a male child, your father, in this case. But as soon as that male child has a female offspring, she will be the next Slayer. Your sister. "

More silence.

Dumbledore sighed. "The Slayer has always been a witch in your family. So, they were pureblooded of course, never marrying muggles, because their offspring wouldn't be able to handle the extreme power of the Slayer. In other families there have been Slayers that only existed through the male line.

"We do not know much about Slayers, but one thing is certain, it is a hereditary mystical force that the first female child born in your family cannot escape from. When one slayer dies, the next female in your family will inherit the gift. If there are only males in the family at the time, then one of their daughters will be the next Slayer."

Harry took a deep breath. This was too much. His sister was some powerful warrior. His grandmother too. And if Harry ever had a daughter, she could be one as well. It was bad enough discovering he had a long lost sister, only to realise she was already bound to that fate.

"There are only two other current Slayers in the world besides your sister. They both exceed from a male line. So, your family has been the only one to have ever had female Slayers.

No one outside the family is supposed to know this; it is a well-guarded secret that only the other Slayers know of. But your father decided to tell me, to help your sister."

Dumbledore took a drink from his goblet.

"We sent her here Harry, to Australia, to train under the current male slayer. He died about six months ago, leaving his son to inherit the powers and protect the Southeastern hemisphere of the world. He is young yet, only twenty-five. Your sister is nineteen; she doesn't need to be here anymore. She has finished her training. Her area to protect is Europe and Asia. Which is one of the reasons I suspect she contacted you so early. She is ready to come back to England."

Harry had about a million questions buzzing annoyingly through his brain, but the one he asked was perhaps the least informing.

"How do you know her, Sir?"

"I have kept in contact all these years. I've visited her. Told her about you. She was always very anxious to meet you Harry, always asking me if she could see you. But I, in my protection of you, thought it best to wait it out. It seems, though, she has taken that out of my hands."

"Do Sirius and Professor Lupin know?" Harry asked, praying for it not to be true.

Dumbledore looked at him with sorrowful, understanding eyes. "No, they do not. They assumed she died in that Death Eater Raid at Hogsmede all those years ago. They don't even know she is a Slayer. Or that your entire family produced the female line of Slayers either."

They sat in an awkward silence.

Harry thought it best to break it. He wasn't really angry with the Headmaster anymore.

"What's the wizarding world's take on the Slayer? If it's supposed to be a big secret, how does everyone know about Slayers?"

Dumbledore's twinkled. "I'm glad you asked that Harry. You see, to everyone besides the Slayers and their families, they are nothing but a myth. Of course, there are still some wizards who believe in them. I was one of those believers before your father verified it to me. Imagine my shock when James popped in my office one Monday morning, fairly shouting that his daughter was a Slayer."

Harry sniggered.

"Yes, it's rather like in the muggle world how some muggles believe in the extra-terrestrial being, while others do not."

"Do Sirius and Professor Lupin believe in Slayers, Sir?"

"I do not know Harry, I never thought to question them on the subject. Perhaps you will. I have a feeling that the Slayer secret in your family will be a secret no longer."

Harry looked puzzlingly up at Dumbledore, who had a small smile in the corner of his mouth.

"What do mean, Sir?"

"You'll see," said Dumbledore very cryptically before standing up. "Now Harry, it is time to go to bed, I think. Tomorrow you will meet Elizabeth."

Harry grinned broadly as he followed Dumbledore out of the parlour and into another smaller tunnel. They walked passed several rounded doors until they stopped before one that read Room 11.

"This is your room Harry. Sleep well. I know you are excited, but try to get some rest. Oh yes," said Dumbledore, from mid-turn. "Do not send any owls to your friends about Elizabeth Harry. Don't say anything."

"Of course."

"Goodnight then."

Dumbledore walked forward and disappeared around the corner. Harry took out the key the headmaster had given him earlier from out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock.

He stepped into the room, admiring the huge waterbed in its centre. Along the left wall there was a fireplace, though, how on earth he could light a fire whilst underwater was beyond Harry. Where would the smoke go?

And on a similar note, how could Harry send any owls when he was underwater? And where was Hedwig?

Harry imagined his owl enjoying the refreshing sea air while perched on a palm tree somewhere, getting chummy with a cockatoo.

Harry snorted. Hedwig was usually a very firm bird. Rather like the owl equivalent of Professor McGonagall. He could not see her getting friendly with any strange native birds.

Harry un-shrunk his trunk and rummaged through it until he found his pyjamas. He was just about to put them on, when he spotted something in the corner of his vision. He frowned, a little irritated.

'Yes,' Harry thought as he closed the curtains over the curious faces of the blonde and blue-haired mermaids. 'He was excited about the meeting with his sister tomorrow. But, he was also very sleepy.'

Harry put on his pyjamas and flung himself on the squishy bed, soon dozing steadily away.

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2nd Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Joss Whedon does.

A/N: I've posted this story on the Book Link rather than the Buffy Crossovers Link because the universe of Buffy and its characters are irrelevant to this story. But, the concept of the slayer is relevant and since that belongs to Joss Whedon I have to acknowledge it in my disclaimer. BUT! This story will not be at all like Buffy. This is a slayer of my own invention.

Also, I got the idea from this story by reading all those Buffy crossovers with her acting as Harry's sister. I like the thought of Harry having a long lost sister, so I thought I'd do my take on it. I've never seen a story where Harry went to Australia, or anyone's take on the Australian Wizarding Community, and I thought it'd be something nice to do.

The story, however, will not be set in Australia, just the first few chapters.

Because of Elizabeth's existence/presence, Harry's fifth year will veer off on a different track than the book.

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