Chapter 5

We Live the Lives We Choose

- - - - -

A bolt of lightning flashed overhead and the distant sound of rain was the only sound on the quiet first night in Bulgaria.

Buffy crept along the dark path, glancing left and right. She wasn't feeling too concerned, not yet. All she knew was that as she sat in her new, depressing room in the large house she supposedly shared with the rest of her team, her Slayer's radar was picking things up. They weren't just the warm, friendly things either.

Pulling out her stake, she held it by her side as she veered off the path, heading into the woods. Thunder boomed above her as the rain began to unleash, soaking through her plastic poncho. The wind started to pick up, blowing through the treetops with a slight whistle.

But there was an unnatural sound straight ahead. Holding her stake to her side, she peered intently towards the moving clump of bushes ahead. It was now or never.

She leapt into the bushes just as a snarling figure leapt out. She quickly kicked him and spinning, the vampire landed hard on the ground before snapping back to his feet. When he got a good look at the woman who was attacking him, his eyes widened. "Slayer," he hissed under his breath.

"That's right," Buffy said cheerfully, glad that one person, even if he was undead, could speak English in this country. The vampire let out an unholy snarl and swung for her head. She dodged it, spinning around, her feet slipping slightly in the mud from the heavy rain now blinding the night before her. When she returned back to a standing position, she held up her stake. The vampire swung again and this time he connected, sending the Slayer reeling backwards onto the muddy path.

Getting back to her feet, she kicked out, connecting with the vampire's chest as he, too, landed on the path. They continued their dance, sparring and darting until she finally kicked him against the sharp, outstretched branch of a tree. As he collapsed into dust, she tucked her stake back inside her coat and glanced at the rain still pouring down on her. For some reason, it was almost comforting to know that vampires in this forest were as stupid as the ones back in Sunnydale.

And, for once, it was nice to be recognized as the Slayer and not as the older sister to the boy-who-lived and the girl marked by the Death Eaters.

She shook off the bent-up tension in her neck and shoulders as she continued walking down the path, the storm continuing its rage around her.

The house was still empty when she returned to her tiny, undecorated room. A small single mattress lay on the floor with only a few moth-eaten blankets piled onto it. A horrible striped pillow sat on top of the pile along with the few pieces of mail that had accumulated since she'd arrived. A light bulb was hanging precariously above her head as she took off her muddy shoes and stripped down to her regular clothes, nearly tripping over her luggage in the dim room. One way or another, she was going to decorate this cold, hostile room. The only thing of use were the books sitting on a plastic crate along with a dented alarm clock, one that was battery powered and not plugged in, she had noticed. There was a Bulgarian-English dictionary, not to mention a small black leather-bound book on Japanese terms. She had no use for either, but at least she would have some way to entertain herself.

She had been expecting a television set or a radio at the very least. She wasn't expecting a complete load of nothing. She had neglected to bring any books or magazines of her own and that left both books to her disposal.

She pulled her wand from her jeans and set it on the plastic crate as she settled down on the mattress, glancing at the shadows on the wall. The walls were paneled with wood that was rotting through in spots. She vowed to buy posters or wallpaper or something to cover it up. Along with the boring walls, there were no windows. All she could hear was the sound of the rain lashing against the heavy oak door separating her from the storm outside.

She'd had to leave her owl back in England, she thought with a scowl. Poor Onyx, she thought. Onyx was currently living with the Wood family, something she really didn't mind, but the poor owl would probably have nothing to do for months while Buffy was stranded in her own version of hell.

She lifted the dictionary and stared at the worn leather cover. Sighing, she opened to the front page and began to read the babble written in a language she didn't understand. Of course, she thought to herself miserably, she could always read her mail. But she knew she had to know some words of this language before her first meeting tomorrow.

One of the things she had learned upon her arrival in this country was that she was going to work on a team. An actual vampire-hunting team. She was living in a tiny room in a house with a lot of little tiny rooms for the other members on her team.

Shoving the dictionary aside, she picked up both letters, reading her welcome letter for the tenth or twelfth time. It was written in English with heavy block letters. She had already memorized it, but the words basically let her know that every single comfort she had known for the past nineteen years were now gone and she was going to live the remote life of a vampire hunter. The second letter was a letter telling her that her team would be waiting to meet her in the morning after they moved into the house.

She was about to reach for the dictionary when she heard a creak in the floor above her. A few bits of dust filtered down onto the concrete floor as Buffy glanced up, frowning. If her team wasn't arriving until tomorrow, who was here tonight? Rising, she moved to the door, reaching for her poncho hanging from a single nail sticking out of the wall at an odd angle. It was the perfect coat rack, she thought sarcastically as she bundled up before pulling on her shoes and heading back out into the stormy night.

It was very windy as she climbed the stairs on the side of the house, finally taking refuge under the large stone awning above her head. Pulling down her hood, she stared out into the darkness of the remote city in the distance. A bolt of lightning flashed over the city, and forks flashed out over the house before the thunder crashed and the rain began falling even harder. Sighing, she walked along the balcony, finally reaching the main door to the house. Unlocking it using her set of keys, she stepped inside.

The first thing she noticed was the wet footprints heading towards the kitchen.

She crept along the floor, attempting to not make a sound. She pulled the stake from her pocket, ready to use it on the first sign of trouble. She noticed the light moving on the opposite wall leading into the kitchen and knew that someone had lit a candle. It was likely not a vampire, who wouldn't bother to turn on the lights when breaking into the house. Then again, there was no sign of a forced entry, meaning that whoever was here was likely someone who either had a set of keys or knew how to pick a rather crappy lock flawlessly.

She turned the corner and saw a figure standing in the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl. She could hear the faint sound of music and slid back around the corner, breathing hard. Whoever was in the kitchen was human. She spun around again and asked in a loud voice, "What are you doing?"

The figure standing at the counter gasped and turned around. Buffy let out her own gasp as the figure's face loomed over the candle light, setting off eerie shadows.

"Giles?" she whispered in disbelief. "Giles, is it really you?"

He attempted to clear his throat, but what he saw instead was the astonished face staring back at him. "Buffy, how… I didn't expect you to be awake…"

"Oh," she said, swallowing as she moved towards him. "So you weren't going to tell me you were staying at my house in Bulgaria for any reason, right?"

"I was asked to come over," Giles replied, turning back and taking up his bowl and stirring it once again. "I wasn't supposed to tell you I was coming."

"Was that some sort of punishment?" she asked, still not believing the man standing before her was really there. "Giles, what are you doing here?"

Giles glanced at her over the flickering candlelight. "I'm part of your team, so… surprise, I guess."

For a moment, she couldn't say anything. Then she moved around the counter and launched herself into her former Watcher's arms. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she said into his chest as his arms hesitantly closed around her.

"I wouldn't imagine being anywhere else at a time like this," he replied, patting her back as she pulled away, looking quite relieved.

"Thank you," she said, giving him her first genuine smile.

He gave her a reluctant half-smile before returning to his bowl.

"What are you making?" she asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Uh, bread actually," he replied, setting the bowl down and pulling the candle closer.

"It looks kind of liquid to be all light and fluffy," she commented, pulling herself up onto the counter and staring at him as he poured the mixture into a bread pan. "I'm glad you're here."

He glanced at her as he put the bowl aside and bowed his head slightly. "As am I," he said sincerely. "I have no doubt in my mind that you do not know how to use a brick oven."

"I miss technology," she said sadly.

"Do you have your wand?" he asked as he took the bowl to a basin and began rinsing it out.

"It's downstairs," she replied blithely. "Besides, I'm on contract to not use my wand unless absolutely necessary."

He glanced at her as he pulled away from the sink. "It would be nice to have some sort of warmth in this house. I suppose we can always search for matches."

"It is kind of cold and unwelcome in here," Buffy agreed as she glanced at the large, empty kitchen. "I wonder how the others will like it. I feel like I'm in a castle or something equally creepy."

"This house would resemble a castle," Giles replied as he pulled out a few more candles from one of the drawers and used the lit candle to light the others. "There is a fireplace over there," he said, taking a long wooden stick and lighting it ablaze. "See what you can do with this."

Buffy took the stick from him and hopped down, walking over to the large fireplace in the equally unwelcome dining room. A long wooden table sat covered in a quarter inch of dust, while the eight chairs evenly paced were dripping with cobwebs. She bent down, holding her flaming torch as she prodded the old, moldy logs under the heavy metallic grate, wishing for the fire to start without much effort. After a few moments, the fire was lit and warmth started to pour into the cold room.

Giles joined her a few moments later, glancing at the dusty table as he set down his candle. He used a towel he'd brought with him to dust off a corner of the table and then brushed off one of the chairs before sitting down. "I imagine we have a lot to talk about," he began.

She turned around to face him before sticking the entire torch inside the fire. Joining him at the table, she glanced upwards at the two large lights hanging over the table, covered in a thick layer of dust. "I guess we do."

"Do you want to start or shall I?" he asked, moving the candle to rest in between them. The warm light from the fire was rather welcome considering they could still see their breath in front of them. For being so warm out, it was so cold inside this house. Lightning flashed behind the thick burgundy curtains sealing them safely inside the large house.

"I want to know how you ever thought to come here," she said, turning back to him.

"I was approached by a group of British Aurors, actually," Giles began. "They came to me about a week ago, and asked if I would be willing to join my former Slayer in Bulgaria. They gave me an offer that I could not refuse, but the problem was they didn't come to Sunnydale alone."

"Death Eaters," Buffy whispered as she realized that they, too, would be looking for Faith or Giles.

Giles nodded. "It was my idea to divert their attention, to make it look as though I were, well, dead. It happened two days ago, now."

Buffy checked her watch and smiled. "You're right," she replied. "It's Monday now. Harry would've gone back to Hogwarts for the last time yesterday." Her face wore a sad expression as she turned to her former Watcher. "I'm sorry… you were saying?"

"It was a lot to handle when they told me what I would be doing," Giles continued, "but the point of the distraction was so that no one would be able to find me…"

- - - - -

Smoke was still curling towards the sky on the quiet Saturday evening in Sunnydale. There was a wail as a second ambulance left the scene, speeding towards the hospital. A third vehicle was parked behind the second and two figures were sitting side-by-side out of the backside. Faith was resting her head on the edge of the door as an attendant gently wrapped her arm in a splint.

Spike was sitting next to her, staring in concern at the remains of the building where Giles had lived. Next to him, Faith looked both angry and scared. The first thing he remembered after the explosion was the sound of people screaming and crying as the building collapsed, the bottom apartment gone. He had crawled over to Faith, who moaned and finally looked up, cradling her arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked as she sat up, running a shaky hand through her hair.

"Oh, my…" she said instead, her eyes scanning the building behind him. "Giles…"

"We'll find him later, pet," he said, dragging her to her feet. "Right now, you need medical attention unless you want me to lick the blood off of you."

Apparently that thought brought her back to the present and she allowed herself to be dragged off. That had been nearly an hour ago. Men and women were searching the bottom apartments for survivors, and it didn't help that every single body was brought to the coroner's car on a stretcher. Faith would tense at every single covered sheet as the face was revealed before sinking with relief when she saw it wasn't the Watcher.

"It is possible he wasn't home," Spike said as soon as the attendant pronounced them fit to leave and they both walked away from the ambulance.

"Yeah," Faith grumbled under her breath, "just like it's possible that… wait a moment…" Her eyes were scanning a small group of figures standing down the street. Her own Slayer-like radar was picking up a strange magical vibe. "Spike…" she said slowly. "Those guys over there… were they the ones you saw?"

Spike followed her gaze and shook his head. "Those aren't the same ones that I spoke to, no."

Faith made a quick decision and decided to act on her instinct. Pulling out her stake, she stormed over to where the group was standing and grabbed the first arm she could reach before placing the stake to their chest. "What do you know?" she demanded as the others quickly pulled out their wands, out of sight of any Muggles watching. The smoke was creating a hazy mist, also blocking them from view.

"Faith, you can't go around bloody attacking everyone that…" Spike's voice cut off when he saw five wands aimed at him.

"Leave him out of this," Faith said coldly. "This is between you and me and right now, I'm not feeling too talkative." She lifted her fist and aimed it towards the head of the man she was holding onto.

"Faith, wait!" a voice cried out as a sixth figure stepped between two others. She was a tall woman with blonde hair neatly braided out of her eyes. She had her wand in her hand, but it was held down to her side. "Don't hurt him… he can't do anything to you."

Faith stared open-mouthed at Katie Bell. "What the hell is this?" she asked, letting go of the arm she'd been holding onto and taking a step back. Spike joined her, looking surprisingly smug.

"They're Aurors," Katie explained, quickly introducing the group of men and the one other woman amongst them. "I came with them because I've never been to this country before and because I'm worried about Buffy."

"You know Buffy?" Spike asked her and she turned her cool blue gaze to meet his.

"Yeah, I know her," Katie said. "She's a friend."

"You're from that witch school in England, eh?" Spike asked interestedly.

"That's right," Katie replied with a small smile as she turned back to Faith.

"What are you doing here?" Faith asked, her tone hostile.

"We came for Rupert Giles," one of the male Aurors replied. "He was once a Watcher, wasn't he? We wished for him to be employed in that profession once again."

"You're sending him to Europe," Faith said softly.

"That's right," the female Auror, Hestia Jones, replied coolly. "Unfortunately, we did not come alone." Her eyes were shrewd as she eyed Faith. "Do you not also carry the Mark?"

Faith's right hand unconsciously grasped her left arm and she nodded. "I haven't seen them, no," she said, her tone hard. "I was just…"

"This was his idea," the male Auror said. "He wanted it to look like he'd been targeted by a supernatural force. He wanted it to look like it was murder."

"He wanted to disappear," Faith realized. "It makes sense, I guess. You want him to go to B, and I can't blame you for that. But why didn't you tell me what you had planned? I'm not evil. I'm not going to go around and hurt anyone. Isn't that the reason why I came back here?"

"Faith," Katie said, her tone pleading as she held up her hand, but Faith charged on.

"It's so obvious you don't trust me," Faith snapped. "Are you worried that you'll lose control of the other Slayer? Or am I just not that important to you?"

It was obvious from this statement that all of them, with the exception of Katie and Hestia, didn't know what a Slayer was.

"You are being targeted as it is, Faith," Hestia said, her eyes on the other woman, her gaze still calculating. "To let you in on what we had planned could have proven disastrous. You were not on the need to know—"

"This is madness!" Faith cried, her voice rising above the others. "If you keep pushing me away, you're going to lose the one ally you have in this country. You probably have all these friends lined up, but I have something you need and right now, I'm willing to bet that if you hadn't shown up tonight, I would believe that my Watcher is dead."

It was clear that she was right from the looks on their faces. Faith cursed under her breath, turned on her heel and sped away through the smoke and haze.

Spike turned a cold eye to Hestia, his tone low and menacing. "You made a mistake coming over here and not trusting her," he said coolly. "If you come back again, I'll kill you myself. That's a promise."

Katie watched as Spike sauntered after Faith before turning to the others. "I told you it was a mistake coming back here."

"We had to make certain that he hadn't returned," the male Auror said dryly.

"His flight left last night," Hestia replied as she checked her own watch before pocketing her wand. "We're done here. It's time to go."

Katie glanced back at Faith's frame before her eyes scanned at the city around her. For all Buffy had talked of it, it certainly was a pretty little town.

A few hundred feet ahead, Faith had broken into a run. Spike caught up with her, only to find Faith standing in the middle of the street, looking as though something terrible had happened.

"Don't let them rile you," Spike said. "They're just a group of nasty gits."

"They may be gits," Faith replied, blinking hard, "but they're right. How can they trust me?"

"Hey," Spike said, patting her shoulder in what he hoped to be a comforting manner. "If I can't trust you, who can? You've saved this town enough bloody times… if they want to play 'we-got-a-secret', more power to them." He snickered as a last thought crossed his mind. "If you want to kick my ass, you might feel better."

Faith gave him a half-smile. "Maybe some other time."

He watched as she took off again, presumably towards the Summers' house. He watched her go before turning back. In the distance, he could still see smoke curling from the fire. Whatever those bastards had done, it had still cost lives. It may have not been their intention, but it was what had come to be.

- - - - -

"That's an interesting story," Buffy replied after listening for the past twenty minutes as Giles told her about his plans to leave Sunnydale with the intention of appearing as though he had died in an explosion. She watched him intently through the fire of the flickering flame. Her back was warm from the fire burning six or seven feet behind her. Outside, the storm began to wane.

"I was sincerely hoping that no one would have been killed in the explosion, as they promised me they wouldn't be," Giles replied, removing his glasses to polish them. Buffy had been very still during the conversation, only nodding or smiling. She didn't interrupt him once. This was a sign that she had indeed grown up and after everything she had gone through the year before, she really had. "What about you?"

"Oh," Buffy said lightly, recalling her experiences for the past week. "It's been… wild."

She began telling him about everything, from Willow and Harry's attack to the gathering of the Order. He listened quietly until she stopped talking. "I guess it isn't as exciting as planning your own death," she concluded, resting back in her chair. As she moved, her stomach growled. Giles gave her a tight smile before glancing at the dusty table.

"Perhaps we could spend some time tidying this house," he said.

"It would be a good idea," Buffy replied with a yawn. "I wish they had food here, though. I was so spoiled at Hogwarts."

"We should have fresh baked bread in the morning if everything goes according to plan," Giles told her as they both rose and stretched. "I could use some rest as well."

Buffy thought about returning to her cold basement suite and shuddered. It wasn't as though this part of the house was much better. She'd done a quick walkthrough when she'd arrived earlier that afternoon. There were five main rooms; two were bathrooms, one large sitting room, a kitchen and a dining area. There were seven bedrooms with three other private baths, and a large spacious basement loaded with both contemporary and old-fashioned weaponry. She'd spent a fair amount of time in the training room looking over everything before deciding to go for a walk. She was glad she had. She'd managed to dust her first vampire abroad.

She was tired now, not to mention hungry. There was no food in the house. She hoped someone would think to bring some. At least Giles had been prepared with his powder-in-a-bag routine. She would have to check through his supplies in the morning. And, sadly enough, he'd had a book of matches with just two little sticks remaining. So much for having a prepared Watcher, she thought.

"Are you going to sleep now?" Giles asked her as he walked towards the main sitting room, which was wide open and had archways for doorways. His things were neatly piled on one of the sheet-covered couches. She watched him for a moment as he pulled out a small leather case before smiling. In the distance, a flicker of lightning flashed in the enormous windows facing the river beyond the woods. It really was a pretty house, even if it had been closed up forever, she decided.

"Yeah," she replied, turning around. The last thing she wanted to do was sleep on that cold mattress, but she was tired enough now to sleep on the concrete floor. Bidding him good night, she walked back to the main entrance, pulling on her poncho again.

It was warm and very muggy outside. The wind had also picked up, throwing droplets of water into the air. It took her only a few minutes to get back inside and change into something more comfortable for sleeping in. Lifting her wand, she gazed around the small square room. A tiny addition was added with a cracked porcelain toilet and a shower that seemed to be just a spigot hanging from the ceiling.

For now, she would just have to make due.

She turned on her flashlight and rose to snap off the main light, the bulb above her head crackling. She sat on her dark mattress and reached over to pick up the dictionary on the floor, adding it back to its pile on the crate. She spent a few minutes attempting to set the alarm clock only to realize the batteries were dead. She set it aside before turning off the flashlight and lying down beneath the cold blankets in a room that seemed to have been closed off forever. Despite the fact she was living in one of the worst places she could imagine, she fell right asleep.

She was walking through the graveyard. There were the sounds of fighting off in the distance, the familiar chink of metal meeting metal. She pulled out her own sword as she sped between the gravestones only to hear a loud voice say, "We have come to it at last, Potter."

Buffy's eyes followed the sound of the voice. There were two men. One was very tall with red eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. The other was shorter and had wild dark hair. Their wands were out and their jinxes were coming so fast that small blips of light were all she could see. She began running towards them, but they seemed to be getting farther away.

"No!" she heard Harry shout. "You can't leave me!"

"I'm trying!" Buffy screamed, pushing her way through the thick air that seemed to rest between her and her brother. "Harry! Harry!"

A great red light filled the air, surrounding the smaller man and lifting him straight off the ground.

"NO!" she cried, breaking through the darkness and finally reaching the place where her brother had finally fallen, the life driven right from him. "NO! God, no!"

"Did you love him?" a cold female voice asked.

Buffy lifted her stunned face to look into the eyes of a murderer. "You're dead," she whispered.

"And you shall join him," the voice replied as a wand came from nowhere, pointed directly into the center of her forehead. "Do you not know? All Potters have a death wish."

"I thought that was just for Slayers," Buffy retorted, still holding Harry to her, desperate for any sign of life within him.

"Your brother is dead, Potter. The war is over," the female replied. "You lost."

But she had no idea the rage she had just set off. Dropping Harry's figure onto the ground, Buffy came to, her eyes flashing with anger. "You… you bitch!" she screamed, swinging hard and connecting with the side of the woman's head, sending her reeling. "Why…" She kicked out, the tip of her boot catching the woman's shoulder as she was already falling down. "… won't…" She was on the Death Eater in seconds, pummeling every inch of skin she could see with cold, brutal blows. "… you…" She took the woman by her long raven hair now, smashing the back of her head onto the nearest gravestone. "… die?" She raised her hand for the final blow when a figure caught her fist, holding it tightly despite her persistence.

She turned around and nearly screamed as she saw her father standing above her. "She's down, Elizabeth."

"About time, too," Sirius said, walking over, wearing a long dark cloak. Both James and Sirius glanced sadly at Harry for a moment. "Well, I always knew his time had passed."

"Now all of us are truly dead," James replied sadly.

Buffy angrily pushed James away. "You're not my father," she said quietly. "You would never be so callous. You could never just turn away from your son!"

"Maybe I did," James said with a cold smile. "Maybe you do not even know me…"

"Maybe I don't want to," Buffy snapped, getting to her feet, kicking the limp body she had been beating aside. "Isn't this your cousin, Sirius? You know, the one that tried to kill you?"

"Yes," Sirius replied, staring at her figure. "It's really too bad, too. She was such a waste."

"Harry," Buffy gasped, pushing past both men, but they both latched onto her.

"It's too late," James said, trying in vain to pull her backwards, but she drove right through them, diving towards her brother's body when it suddenly burst into flames. A deep, unearthly tone from above suddenly spoke out as Harry faded away into ashes.

"You… are… mine…"

Buffy gasped as she sat up, trying to control her breathing. These dreams, she thought, reaching along the cold floor and finally grasping her flashlight. They were getting worse. They were violent now, and she was showing significant disobedience to her parents. Why her father was walking around acting all smug and coldly negligent of his own son was beyond her comprehension. She wished Faith was there. It wasn't really a prophetic dream; she doubted Faith would have seen what she had. But still, it would have helped to have someone there that knew what it meant to lose someone like that.

A fierce determination was flowing through her. It was the first time since she'd been marked that she'd dreamt of him.

The time had come, she thought to herself. Voldemort was going to strike and he was going to strike hard. She feared for those she loved. She feared for all she knew. And, worst of all, she feared for her brother, thousands of miles away, about to go to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year.

- - - - -

It was just before dawn Sunday when Harry stepped outside, glancing past the grim and desolate landscape surrounding him on Grimmauld Place. He stared at the faint stretch of pink and peach on the horizon, feeling oddly chilled. He crossed his arms as he breathed in the humid morning air. Turning, he walked back inside the house.

"You know," came the slow, drawling voice of Phineas Nigellus from the opposite end of the corridor, "it has been some time since you were up this early."

"I couldn't sleep," Harry said, feeling slightly foolish for confiding in this portrait.

"Don't listen to him," said the curly-haired witch on his left, holding her mirror higher with her right hand so to primp. "He's just grumpy because he's stuck in this hallway with all of us women."

The witch in the portrait across from her giggled as she straightened in her own straight-back chair, forcing her face into a very serious mask. "He was always the grouchy git, was he not Lucinda?"

"Oh, he was far too much good for his own kin, Glelandra," Lucinda purred as she set her mirror aside, patting the big, poof-y red bow on top of her curls. "Perhaps this was something a whiskey could cure."

"Don't you hags ever shut up?" Phineas asked, straightening in his own portrait. In response, both women just snickered louder.

"Harry?" a voice asked from the stairway.

Feeling as though he were rescued, Harry sped forward to see Sirius standing at the bottom of the stairs, frowning slightly as his eyes stared back at the argument rising from the corridor. "When she comes back, I am going to rip her apart with my bare hands for putting those portraits there," he grumbled, leading Harry down to the basement kitchen.

The two managed to make breakfast as the rest of the household awoke. Trunks were dragged downstairs and piled before the door as Mrs. Weasley made the call to the Ministry to have two cars take the children to King's Cross.

Hermione was in a right state, showing up to breakfast in tears, convinced this was the last time she would ever ride the Hogwart's Express. Ron was thrilled; despite the fact he really liked the train. Harry was in two minds. He had first met Ron and Hermione on the train which had been the beginning of their friendship. He was also somewhat wary, because of all the times he had been on the train; there had been dangerous ones as well. The Dementor was perhaps the best case, but every year had been faced with a confrontation with his arch-nemesis Draco Malfoy. Knowing that he had beat out Draco in the competition for Head Boy was some consolation, but he knew that Draco would be even more malicious this year.

Lastly, there was Ginny. She was only going into her sixth year, but it was her last year to ride with her older brother and his two best friends.

Once they were all fed and had gotten dressed, the cars from the Ministry arrived. Harry and the others packed their things away just as Lupin and Tonks arrived. Tonks was dressed as an older woman with long dark curly hair today, not unlike Sirius' great aunt Lucinda.

"We'll ride with you, Harry," Lupin said.

Sirius walked outside, his arms folded, scowling. When he saw Lupin and Tonks, the dark look disappeared and he actually smiled.

"Don't worry, Sirius," Harry said, thumping Sirius on the shoulder. "We'll be fine."

"I know," Sirius said, taking a step backwards. Even though he was technically a free man, very few understood that he was one of the only ones that had survived death by the veil. "Good luck, Harry. And good luck to you all!" he called.

"We'll send you an owl, mum," Ron said, hugging his mother for the third time. Molly was nearly in tears as she watched her two youngest children, Harry and Hermione get into the two cars with Remus and Tonks.

Hermione was still in tears as they walked through King's Cross, heading towards the familiar barrier between platforms nine and ten. She held the compass tightly in her hand as she pushed her trunk on board the train before coming about. Harry was standing with a small group of people that included a few fellow seventh-year Gryffindors, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. She wondered if he knew he had to be on the train and sit in a separate compartment. They had been sent their instructions to give the Prefects that morning.

Harry caught up to her a moment later, his hand lightly grazing her arm as they boarded the train. "What do we do?" he asked easily as he handed Hedwig's cage gratefully over to Neville Longbottom as his other friends disappeared.

"We give the Prefects their instructions," Hermione said proudly.

Harry gave her a stern look. "You know I am going to kick you if you start to act like Percy."

"There's nothing wrong with assuming some responsibility, Harry," Hermione said, her voice losing its breathy quality. She sounded mildly annoyed now. Harry felt her enthusiasm grate on his nerves, especially when they walked inside the compartment with the other Prefects. Ginny was already inside waiting for the others with the other sixth year Prefects. What surprised Harry was that Draco Malfoy and the former Prefects were also standing in the compartment, which was rather full.

"Oh," Hermione gasped.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked Draco, gently pushed Hermione to the side.

"The same thing you are," Draco retorted, a sour look on his face. "Is Hogwart's new super couple going to be running this show now?"

Both Harry and Hermione averted their eyes as Ginny glanced up, fire in her gaze. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy."

"Ooh," Draco replied, a trace of a sneer in his tone. "Is that right, Weasel-bee? Is it a cozy little triangle now?"

Ginny turned a slight shade of pink before looking away.

"I would keep quiet if I were you, Malfoy," Ernie MacMillian said as he stepped inside the overfull compartment.

"L-Look," Hermione said, stammering slightly as she fought to regain control. "Are there seventh-year Prefects now?"

"There is this year," Terry Boot said from the hallway behind them.

"Since you already know what to do, you should go," Harry told him, trying to block out Hermione's miffed little sniffing noises next to him. "We're probably scaring all the fifth-years."

Sure enough, there were eight of them standing there looking terrified.

"Let's go," Terry said, and the rest rose to walk out. Only Draco and Pansy remained behind. Draco strode past Hermione, giving her shoulder an extra jostle before stalking past. Pansy eyed Harry almost surreptitiously before turning to Hermione. "Maybe if you're done with him, I'll have a go." She turned a coy eye to Harry as she slipped past him, following Draco down the rocking corridor with her usual saunter. Ron slipped past all of them and ran, panting, to where his two best friends stood, carefully avoiding each other's eyes.

"I just heard… what am I… supposed to do?" Ron asked, clutching his side.

"Patrol," Harry said simply. Hermione was giving the sixth year Prefects orders and soon they, too left, leaving just eight new faces and the Head Boy and Girl behind.

"This is comfortable," Hermione muttered under her breath as Harry grinned at the eight fifth years who stared up at them.

"Are you really Head Boy this year, Harry?" one of the Ravenclaw Prefects asked.

Harry nodded.

"Wow," a Slytherin Prefect remarked sarcastically. "It only comes to show that Dumbledore has no class."

And they thought it was going to be a boring trip. Even Hermione didn't object when Harry delegated the task of watching the first years to the Slytherins, who exchanged mutual smirks before leaving the compartment behind.

When it was empty, they found themselves sitting on opposite ends, staring at the floor.

"I don't know what Percy was thinking when he decided he actually liked this," Hermione admitted.

"Professor Dumbledore must want the extra help in case the train or the school is attacked," Harry surmised. "That's all. It has to be."

"Maybe," Hermione said, leaning back in her seat. Her eyes turned towards the window and the English countryside now passing them by. "I just wish Draco wasn't a part of this."

"Or Pansy," Harry agreed.

She turned to him, her eyebrows raised. "Are you going to have a go with her?" she asked lightly.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry snorted. "You actually want me to have a 'go' with the dog-faced girl?"

That made Hermione feel a little better. "I didn't like the way she spoke about us, that's all," she said softly.

"I know what you mean," Harry replied, staring down at his twisting hands. "Don't… don't think anything of it, Hermione."

But she couldn't get the nagging feeling out of her head that the Slytherins were up to something.

The Sorting Ceremony was magnificent for their final year. Harry felt distinctly proud when they walked into the Great Hall and realized that they were, at last, the oldest students in the school. Many of the younger students waved or called out to them. Many looked up and smiled. It was a great feeling to finally reach the top, but it also meant it was a lot further to fall.

Ron joined Harry and Hermione as the entire group of Gryffindor seventh years sat together, awaiting the arrival of Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. Hagrid soon slipped into his normal seat, waving at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who happily waved back. A large group of first years swept in behind Professor McGonagall, who led them down the line between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables to a small three-legged stool and the old hat that sat on top of it.

After the hat's final song, Hermione felt her eyes tearing up, but cheered all of the same. The students were divided one by one into their houses and the group cheered whenever a new Gryffindor would join their table. They had positioned themselves next to the empty spots to first welcome the students. All of the new students saw Harry straightaway, glancing at his scar before turning to whisper at one another. Unlike two years ago, when they all believed him to be a liar and a show-off, they now saw him as a hero of sorts.

"Welcome, my dear students, to another grand year!" Professor Dumbledore said, getting to his feet, his arms spread wide. Everyone applauded politely, wanting to hear what the Headmaster had to say. "Come now and tuck in!"

The students laughed appreciatively as the tables in front of them were suddenly filled with plates and platters of food. Harry gladly pulled the platter of lamb chops towards him as they all settled in for their last welcome meal, ever. It was hard to see Hermione out of the corner of his eye getting all teary over eating the last ever helping of mashed potatoes at their welcome feast, but it helped to have Parvati Patil sitting next to her to comfort her. Down the table, Ginny was smiling sympathetically. She had not yet forgotten Draco's cold words, nor did they hold any truth.

The Slytherin table was being oddly loud for a table of quiet sneering and whispered jeers. Harry found his eyes wandering and met a few cold stares, all of their lips pursed in a very Aunt Petunia-ish way. But thinking of Aunt Petunia made him recall what had happened to her and he got a very bitter taste in his mouth. Glancing down at his plate, still loaded with food, he set down his fork. Hermione glanced up in surprise but her face fell when she saw the tense, almost sad expression on his face. "What is it?" she asked quietly over the sounds of the scraping of silverware against the china or the rock-concert-like sound quality of hundreds of voices talking at once. "Harry?"

"It's just…" Harry began, but found he couldn't say anything. He didn't need to. Hermione glanced over her shoulder and met the stone cold gazes of the Slytherins before turning back.

"Oh," she said, reaching for her goblet.

"If you're still going to come onto us about embracing school unity…" Ron said in an accusing voice, glaring at Hermione, who looked taken aback.

"I wouldn't do any such thing, especially after what happened last year!" she exclaimed.

"Good!" Ron replied, turning to look at Harry, the anger fading from his eyes. "Harry?"

Harry was turning his spoon over and over in his hands, staring as the silver reflected off of his glasses onto the white tablecloth in front of him. "I wish my sister was here," he said softly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "We know, mate," Ron said quickly.

"We miss her too," Hermione added.

It wasn't that Harry just missed her. She knew how to handle Draco and the entire group of cold-hearted Slytherins. She could handle anything, he thought with a sigh, setting his spoon aside. He had never felt less hungry in his life.

After dessert was over, Professor Dumbledore once again got to his feet.

Harry had abandoned the concept of eating anything, choosing to stare moodily at the plate in front of him. Hermione kept shooting him looks varying from sympathy to pity. Ron kept trying to force Harry to eat something, going so far as to push a bowl of apples under his nose only to receive an apple to the head for his effort. It was better to let him be when he was in these moods, and they hadn't seen much of sullenness from Harry in over a year. Ron and Hermione exchanged another look before glancing up at their Headmaster.

"To all of our newest students, welcome to Hogwarts! To all of our returning students, it gives me great pleasure to welcome you all back!"

Hermione had just scanned the staff table. It was then that her eyes fell on the one unfamiliar face staring back at them. She had been sitting between Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall but now she seemed to be scanning the Great Hall, smirking.

"It gives me great pride to introduce to you our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this term. I would all like you to meet Professor Danes."

"Another woman?" Ron asked, his jaw dropped slightly as he stared at her. Her eyes were scanning the Slytherin table and her smirk grew.

Professor Dumbledore continued talking as Harry gazed hard at this Professor Danes. She looked slightly familiar to him, yet he couldn't place her. She was sitting as though she were on her throne, almost haughty and bored, her dark eyes scanning the crowd. Her sneer grew more pronounced as her eyes met his. He felt something tingle down his spine as their eyes locked. He had never felt so eerie staring at a teacher before. He broke eye contact and turned towards Ron, who was looking at him.

"Who is that?" they asked one another at the same time.

Hermione snorted under her breath. "Well, if you'd listened for the past five seconds, you'd know, wouldn't you?" She stood up, smoothing her long robes. "Come on, Harry. It's our job to make sure the Prefects do theirs right."

Harry gave Ron a quick wave before following a very proud Hermione down the aisle as she called out, "First years, this way! First years, come on now!"

As they trooped through the corridors and up the stairs (Neville finally remembering the trick step he'd forgotten to jump for six years in a row causing Hermione to inexplicably burst into tears again), they came into the Gryffindor corridor.

Harry paused. He'd not been given a password, but Hermione, her hair positively crackling with electricity, said, "prickled pear" in an authoritative tone as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, admitting the short passageway into the Common room.

As Harry stepped inside, he smiled. This is where he belonged, he thought. This is exactly where he wanted to be.

- - - - -

Faith heard the sound of ringing in the distance. She turned over, pulling the striped pillow over her head to block out the offensive noise. Hearing footsteps and an eventual knock on the door, Faith gave up trying to hide from the telephone and lifted her head, her hair falling into her face.

"Faith?" Joyce asked, pushing the door open. "Faith, Wesley's on the phone for you. He says that it's urgent."

"Yeah, sure," Faith yawned as she rose, taking the portable phone from Joyce and sitting on her bed, pushing her hair from her face. "What's up, Jeeves?"

"We have a problem," Wesley's voice said on the other end of the line.

"We have a problem?" she repeated testily. "Oh, I can't even begin to say what my problems are. Did you have any idea that Giles was about to head off to Bulgaria without even telling me or anyone else for that matter? Did you know the Aurors actually planned to destroy his room to make it look as though he'd died?"

"Well, no," Wesley said, sounding taken aback. "Actually, I did learn something about the attack on the building. Apparently a second bomb was planted. The one that destroyed the rest of the building was the bomb that the Death Eaters must have planted."

"There was a second bomb?" Faith asked quietly.

"Apparently someone from that group knew what the Aurors were planning," Wesley said, speaking very fast now. "I don't have much time, but I need to tell you this in case my line is tapped and I only have a few moments left to live."

"Stop being so dra-dra-dramatic," Faith said, failing to stifle her yawn. "It's four thirty in the morning, Wes. I just got back in a few hours ago."

"Faith, you have to listen to me very carefully," Wesley said, his tone turning to an obnoxious shade of seriousness.

"I'm listening," she countered.

"I know the dangers of you returning to England," Wesley began, "but you must go."

"I don't have to do anything, Giles," she said, purposely mispronouncing the name of Buffy's former Watcher. "I'm the Slayer."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Wes?" she prompted.

"Faith, just listen to him," a different voice said.

"Angel?" Faith asked in confusion.

"I have the book in front of me," Wesley said in a breathless tone as Faith heard the sound of pages turning. "It's from a sixteenth century foreseer. She supposedly had the powers of a seer not to mention she was raised near a mystical fountain—"

"Wesley, I don't need the background," Faith said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just tell me."

"She spoke of a prophecy," Angel said, filling in while Wesley muttered in the background. "In fact, she had many. She predicted her own death in the late sixteenth century…"

"I found it!" Wesley exclaimed, cutting Angel off. "These mighty tyrants will fail to do. They fail to split the world in two. But from their acts a danger bred an ague - leaving many dead. And physics find no remedy. For this is worse than—"

"All I hear is poetry," Faith said impatiently.

"There's more," Wesley said grimly. "He is but chosen, a man with the mark on his head. He carries the weight of the world, but in the end he'll only know death."

Faith closed her eyes. It was so obviously Harry. "And?" she asked, as though she didn't want to hear the end.

"The world will end as the tyrants rise, filled with mirth, deceit and lies. The one by his side will know only tears and the world will end with her deepest fears…"

"I don't do poetry," Faith said in frustration. "Can't you—"

"Don't you see it?" Wesley asked, his voice carefully stressing each syllable. "Faith, no matter what happens; her prophecies are almost always true. That boy you care about so much, that Harry Potter… he is going to die."

Faith opened her eyes. She wasn't aware of the telephone slipping from her grasp and landing at the floor near her feet. Her eyes stared straight ahead as Wesley's voice crackled through the telephone line at her feet.

"Faith..." Wesley said urgently, following by a persistent, "Faith… Faith? Faith, answer me… Faith!"

- - - - -

Chapter 6… We see how a newly father-less Draco spent his summer. Harry deals with the death and disappearance of his total family. Willow faces her own magical obstacles which may lead to bigger problems.

Chapter 7… Buffy grows delirious after being poisoned, returning to a world where James and Lily are still alive. Faith makes the biggest decision of her life. The war between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins has only just begun… and the Death Eaters finally make their move.

- - - - -

Chapter Notes

So much for completing this story by March… it would give me two months to finish the next, oh, 20 chapters. I have most of the outline planned out, but unlike the prequel, which was already well-written when I started to post. Life has been full of chaos lately. Things are finally starting to settle down and I am finally able to return to my writing. I do have to thank Grace for being ever-so-patient with me while I've been taking forever getting these chapters to her and she's all locked up in classes learning. I almost wish I was back in school right about now. Four of us are now out, and my baby brother is the only one currently in. After spending two hours helping him with accounting homework, I realize I do kind of miss it. How… sad.

Reviewer Comments

Thank you very much for all of your comments and reviews! I know these chapters are shorter, but that's a good thing. This story probably won't be so wordy as the prequel was.

CharmedChick: Harry's dream was meant to be confusing. What it basically goes to show is that Buffy has a hell of a time ahead of her and in the end, she may be alone. She would have brought it on herself. It goes something like that. More Harry dreams are forthcoming. I hope to do some non-confusing ones.

Amy: Yeah… can you tell I'm an American? Well… I'll fix it when I have the time to fix it. After reading up on graduate studies at Oxford, the only non-single rooms are for families and such. It should have been called a "suite-mate", because isn't that what they're called? I have no idea. It would be better for Willow to not have a roommate anyway, especially if she is going about with the magicks. Thanks for the info. :)

The Lady Morgaine: Actually, the explosion had a purpose, as you can probably read. How many am I planning on killing off? That would be too easy now, wouldn't it? I do plan on killing off two, but perhaps more. Natural deaths do count in the "killing off" part, right? I don't know. People die in wars, and it's senseless to give a straight number when the Wizarding world is really at war. As for looking cheery, that would give a sense of false security and… well… that would be pleasant right about now.

Lightdemondarkangel: The anti-magic roommate is actually a suite-mate, someone who would live down the hall. It actually introduces both an old and a new character. I don't want to do it that way, but I sort of need the figure, hence the introduction. Faith wasn't meant to be the target as you have probably read. Giles wasn't even the target. It was a set-up planned, considering Faith was being tracked by two groups of people. Giles now serves a greater purpose in the fight against evil, and Buffy's last request was to have her watcher back. It wasn't really a target, but just this sort of planned-out thing to make it seem like he was dead when in reality he was thousands of miles away, or en route to it. As for Harry's dark surprise, well… torture is a good key word there. Draco is up to his old tricks. If you thought he hated Harry before, just wait until you see what he has planned… his father may be imprisoned, but the spirit is still tucked in his body.

Annje: Spike and Faith both survived. They just showed up at the wrong place and the wrong time. Spike was set-up, considering some actually knew he was in league with the Slayer. Sending him to her with that information and the precise time would have given the Death Eaters all the time they needed to knock off the Slayer they considered the most anti-dark. But, as luck would have it, they foiled their plan because it was actually Giles' plan to have his room destroyed to make it seem as though he were dead and unfortunately Spike and Faith were caught in the blast. It makes you think, though… how would the Death Eaters know what the Aurors were planning, even if American? Hmm…

General Mac: Of course.

Maleficus Lupinus: Giles isn't dead. In fact, the explosion was Giles' idea. He's somewhere else though, if you've read the chapter. I'm not going to divulge on details. But he's all right.

Sparky24: Well, Giles isn't dead, so you did get what you want. As for Harry/Hermione, well… only time will tell.

Naitch03: Faith will survive. Giles disappeared. And Spike will confess his love to his undying rabbit Blinky. The only reason he hangs around Faith is because she can lead him to stuff he can kill. Faith will eventually return, but she has some stuff to think about and a few last visits to make. As for Harry's feelings, I think they are on the genuine side. He loves his sister (well, at times he can hate her, too) and Faith represents what his sister stands for. The lust thing would be… weird. It could be lust though. Harry and Hermione have known each other far too long to let their relationship/friendship disappear, but things change between friends, and that's what I wanted to get across. In the end, Harry will find love, but it sort of remains a lopsided triangle at the moment. As for work blahs, take care, get plenty of rest and don't forget to write!

Electric pancake: Do you think Buffy will be fine in Bulgaria? Can you imagine the things that can go wrong? That is why, in part, the girl needs her Watcher. Giles might not know Bulgarian, but the least he can do is help her adjust, as he's done every other time. I haven't forgotten the Aurors, but they've been rather busy, as you will soon see. I can sleep with a free set of steak knives? That sounds potentially entertaining! As for the chocolate, hell… I don't think I've had anything without caffeine in a month… coffee, chocolate… anything with really, really high amounts of sugar and caffeine. It's probably a really bad idea, but it does keep one awake for many, many hours a day.