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"You know what's going to happen, don't you?" Oz's quiet voice announced his presence. And though she'd been vaguely aware of his presence in the room, she jumped in fright anyway, looking up at him with bruised eyes. "Sorry."

"S'okay," she shakily replied. "I'm glad you're here. Where were you? And, no, I don't know what's going to happen. I only suspect what it may be-and I don't like what I suspect."

"I was with the band, helping them flee the town. Devon didn't understand why I wanted to stay. Said it was just something that I needed to do," he shrugged. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes!" She sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. "I'm tired of trying to be strong, of being answer girl for everyone." In Oz's arms, she poured out all the things that had been troubling her since they had met the Hogwarts gang. Oz just sat down and rocked her, not saying a word, letting it all pour out of her until she drifted off into the first naturally peaceful sleep she'd had in days.

"Is she all right?"

"She'll survive," Oz answered, not looking up.

"That's not what I asked," Remus half-scolded him.

"It's the best I can do. Only Will knows how she truly is. But if you want my opinion, she's going to be all right. She only needed to unburden herself," Oz answered, just letting his presence soothe her.

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Harry felt a little off balance as he walked along. There was some kind of strange, grayish tint around his eyes that he couldn't seem to blink away. His ears started to ring, causing a head-ache to form. It was almost like when he'd fallen into Albus' pensieve, only not so…weird.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was like falling…Harry gasped, like falling into Riddle's diary. Panicking, he desperately looked about, trying to find a way out of this…this nightmare before Voldemort discovered him. Before he did anything to mislead and confuse him.

"Calm down, Harry-this is my memory," Severus soothed him. His familiar dark clad body appeared to the right and Harry relaxed, taking comfort in what he knew.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, catching sight of an ugly looking, gangly youth off to the corner. The boy was holding his nose, glaring balefully up at someone. He looked vaguely familiar to Harry, though he couldn't say for sure where he'd seen him. But he was absolutely sure he knew the boy, that look was rather distinctive.

"That's what you get for calling me a liar!" a pretty redhead snapped, her hands on her hips.

"I think you broke my nose, Lily," he sullenly replied. Though the voice squeaked with the unmistakable sound of an adolescent entering puberty, Harry could hear the beginnings of the silken voice he knew so well. As hard as it was to believe, he was looking at Severus Snape.

"It's your own fault, you taught me to punch with deadly intent," she sniffed at him. Inside, her blood was still thrumming at his words, she couldn't believe him. But as she stared at his vulnerable face, her expression softened. Kneeling down, she pulled out her handkerchief, cleaning the blood up before pinching his nose fiercely.

His nose did look absolutely terrible and she couldn't believe that she'd been the one to make it look that way.

"I didn't mean for you to use it on me," he protested, trying not to wince at the pain in his nose-nor the way his voice sounded as a result of the pinch upon it. He already hated the way his voice squeaked when he talked. This made things worse because now he'd sound as though he had a head cold and Madame Pomfrey would insist upon taking care of him. He hated seeing that woman. She coddled him way to much for his peace of mind.

"It certainly got your attention off of your stupid, misbegotten pride, didn't it?" she pointed out, snapping the bone back into place. "But I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you so hard. I hate losing my temper, shows I have no control over myself and gives that power away."

"I just can't believe it. How could you be my sister and not have been raised by us? That spell shows that we should be twins-which we know we are not. My father would not throw you out just because you're not biologically his," Severus protested, "Although, I am grateful that you aren't exposed to my grandfather. He would utterly despise you."

When she said nothing, he scowled-an expression that didn't work when half his face was covered in the reddened cloth. "Oh, fine," he snapped, knowing what she wanted to hear-and she had every right to demand, he knew this. He'd been totally out of line. "I'm sorry I called you a barking mad, hyperventilating, menstruating liar. You aren't any of those things."

"We're going to have to work on the way you apologize next," she pinched the nose tighter for a moment. Not only because she wished to stop the bleeding, but also as a slight reminder of just where she was. "You didn't sound sincere at all."

"Believe me, Lily, I have never been more sincere. But it's hard to sound that way when your nasal passages are blocked," he assured her, wincing slightly. "Back to the matter at hand, do you have any theories about how this could be? Even in the wizarding world, this is rather impossible."

"You were conceived a year after the wedding," she said. Shaking her head, she realized that her calculation was wrong, "No, wait-two years."

"Two years and seven months," he corrected her. "I even know it down to the very second because grandfather is excruciatingly precise about the moment that I-the wretched excuse for a wizard-was born into the world. And he never lets me forget it."

"He broke your hand again, didn't he?" she asked, her free hand trailing along the fragile bones. The splinters from the shattered bones poked through his thin skin, causing a pained gasp to pass through his lips.

"More like he rebroke what Black already damaged," he shrugged as though it was of no consequence to him. She knew it for the lie it was-that was his wand hand. The dominant hand he used for his potions. There was the slightest of shivers as she applied the slightest of magics, feeling them knit together under her fingertips.

"Sev, I know I made you promise to leave them alone, to stay out of their way this year because crossing them has never left you the victor. You've always been the one harmed, not them. But that plan is obviously not working. This was done out of pure spite," Lily exclaimed, angered beyond belief. "I should…spell them that if they even think about harming you, they get a case of diarrhea so bad, they would be humiliated by rumors of their lack of bladder control."

Severus laughed. It was a strange sound, half amused and half bitter. "As amusing as that would be, Anmchara, they would find a way to blame me for what happened. I thank you all the same for wanting to defend me from them."

"What are older sisters for?" she teased, satisfied that his nose was done bleeding.

"Older?" he asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow, grateful the pressure was gone.

"I was born in December, while you were born in February of the next year," Lily smirked, looking eerily like him in that moment. She spelled her handkerchief clean and put it away.

"See, that makes no sense. Your spell clearly shows that my mother is your own. Yet, I was born two months later. If we truly are half-siblings, why is it not my father who is your own?"

She shrugged, "You're the one raised in the wizrding world, not me. Can't you just write to your family and ask?"

"Oh, yes because that will work," he dryly replied, pushing himself up. "We have lived with my grandfather since my father's death. I highly doubt that he would let her answer such a query, if my mother received my letter at all."

Hugging him, she rested her head against his heart, listening to the steady rhythm. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling his hand rub her back comfortingly.

"I'm used to it," he softly replied.

"Being used to it doesn't make it all right. Why does he hate you so much?"

"I look like my wastrel father and have no true wizardly traits."

The memory started to fade away and Harry looked up at him, noting the traces of tears on his face. "It was just a few days after that when I received a letter from the estate manager about my mother. She had committed suicide. That was what I was reading when your father decided to relieve the boredom of his friends by means of my personal humiliation in front of the school."

"Yes, you called my mum-your sister-a mudblood," Harry's face flushed with anger and shame at the memory. As hard as he tried to eject Snape from his mind, the one time he'd succeeded was the one time he wished he hadn't. The memory haunted him.

"It was a code between us, Harry. It meant that I really needed to talk to her," he tiredly explained. "Lily was crazy. She basically decided that since all the elements of life was in the break down of mudblood, that's what it really meant-essence of life."

"Really?" he skeptically asked.

"Yes, Harry, really," he emphasized the word. "I could even show you her journals if you have doubts about it. Only she would have come up with something that outlandish, I was never that creative."

"She kept journals?" he asked, momentarily distracted.

"Lily knew she would not live to see you grow up and wanted you to know all about her. The prophecy was not Trelawney's alone. It was shared by Lily. I was one of the few who heard the whole thing. And I knew, as did she, that there were only two families the prophecy spoke of-yours and the Longbottom's."

Harry had sunk to the ground, head on his drawn up knees, listening to him. Snape's face was distant, seeing things that were far away from them. In that moment, Harry never felt more like a stranger to him.

"Albus believed that he would choose the Longbottom's," he rubbed his neck. "Lily was not as sure as he was. She felt it would not be that easy. In her honest opinion, Voldemort would take no chances-he would kill both babies. Why take the chance of destroying the wrong child in a fit of self-righteous judgment? She knew, unlike many else, just how far he would go to win and the lives of two innocent babies meant nothing to him."

Harry had a sickening feeling that he did not want to hear this. "You…she…you told Voldemort the prophecy, didn't you?" he finally managed to ask.

"It was tell him or die-you've heard of the unbreakable vow. I've made so many in my life, I cannot rightly call my life my own. Anyway, Lily would have made an excellent Slytherin-much like you would save that the both of you have a serious flaw-she could rival Albus with her manipulation abilities. I am still reeling, trying to figure just how she got me to agree to such a foolish thing. She manipulated him as easily as she did me."

"One flaw?" Harry asked, focusing on the one inconsequential thing Severus had said. It was the only way he could keep from focusing on the other things he'd said, the other things he was implying. "What was that?"

"Both of you take no thought to plan everything out. There is too much impulsivity inside of you for it. Strategy will never be your strong suit," Severus smirked before his face fell back into sober lines. "I tried to do my best to get her to think beyond three moves but was unsuccessful. She could be damned determined and focused when she wanted to be. She never stopped trying to find out why we had the same mother-but for other things, she was not so dedicated."

"So, you don't know," he commented, disappointed.

"After my mother's death, I could never bring myself to think about her past," he simply replied, not sure if he should apologize or not. It didn't seem like the kind of thing he should have to-yet, Harry was so disappointed. "There was just too much pain involved."

"Were you and your mother close?"

"Close?" he snorted at the idea. "My mother frowned upon such an idea. But she was there for me when I displeased grandfather. He was disappointed in me. In the fact that mother refused to remarry and replace me as sole heir. The greatest disappointment for him was that my latent talent for parseltongue did not show up until after his death-he never knew. To this day, I cannot decide it that is a good thing or not."

"Your family spoke parseltongue?!?" he exclaimed, truly shocked. "I thought only Voldemort spoke it, that I got it from him."

He bitterly laughed, "Now, I wonder who told you that? Parseltongue isn't a trait of those who are descended from Salazar, the language is up far older than that. We tend to forget about that. Your mother was one of the finest speakers, she translated a few of Salazar'a journals-he refused to write in any other language. She charmed the portraits in my quarters to speak parseltongue only and made sure that they would only allow those of my bloodline to enter my sanctuary without invitation. That, by the way, is not an invitation. Do not show up and ask for entrance unless it is an emergency, are we understood?"

Harry nodded, sure he could think of any number of reasons to show up at his uncle's. "Can I see more of your memories of my mum? No one talks about her, they only tell me about my dad. And, while he is my dad, I'd like to get to know my mum too."

Severus didn't have the heart to refuse when he looked at him. Though he knew they should be preparing for the fight, that there was no time for such frivolities, he could not find it in his heart to refuse the boy anything he asked for in that moment. Those eyes stared at him, hopeful but also ready for rejection. Sitting down, he rested his hand on Harry's shoulder, "Of course we can."

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It had been six days since the start of Voldemort's siege on the school. Though the twins had done their best, it looked as if he meant to stay right there. They had received no word from their contacts back at Hogwarts.

Still, they were reluctant to yield the school to him. It may not have been Hogwarts but it had its own power source-the Hellmouth itself. And the knowledge that if Voldemort had access to it, they would be lost, constantly punished them.

The phone rang and Giles answered it, startled to hear the Mayor's voice. "What do you want?" he snapped, not feeling guilty at all. The past few days had taken a toll on them all.

"Help," the man gasped out before the phone dropped. A loud crashing sound was heard right before the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.

"Mayor Wilkins?" Giles asked, concern coming to the forefront. Over the live, he could hear the oddest tearing sound, "Are you all right?"

There was a strangled cry and silence. "What's going on?" Buffy asked, staring at him.

"I'm not sure-that was the Mayor. He called for help," Giles slowly replied, straining to hear anything over the line. "It sounded like there was a struggle going on before I lost him."

Albus rested his hand on Buffy's shoulder, face grave. "I believe this is something that we should handle immediately. Fear not, we shall return."

"Voldemort has forced the Ascension upon the Mayor, has he not?" Kendra asked, practicing in the corner. Though her moves were fluid, there was a rigidness to her patterns that she could not disguise. It was obvious that her attempts to talk to her Watcher and get him to see reason, to help them out, had failed. "He called for help because he was not prepared for it to occur. In a way, he wished to warn us about the danger we were in."

"That's my guess-and hope. If he wasn't ready, his death will be that much easier to accomplish," Albus said. "Are you ready to face a true demon?"

"No," Buffy answered bluntly, "Let's go anyway."

They disappeared.

"Do not fear for Buffy. She is with Headmaster Dumbledore and he, despite his loony habits, knows what he is doing."

"Thank you, Kendra. I know in my head that you speak the truth, it is my heart that is having the trouble," he sighed, "Any word from the camp?"

"None, though it looks like Kingsley is with them," Sirius replied. "Tall, handsome Moorish man, you'd like him. He has a real sense of the absurd ironies of life."

"Sounds interesting," Cordy replied, her voice exceptionally bored. "I'd love to hear more but there's just something that I have to do."

"About?" Xander asked, concerned. Out of them all, only Cordy showed signs of cabin fever.

"The way they look," she replied, leaving before anyone caught what she said.

Xander's head shot up and he looked panicked, "Did she just say that she was going to talk fashion with them?" All of them bolted from the room, knowing that an answer was pointless.

Nearing the door, the heard her, "Hey, ugly! I'm sure there's not enough money to make that face of yours into anything resembling that of a true leader but come on! There are hundreds of designers who could make you look impressive."

"I don't need to look impressive, idiot muggle. I am impressive."

"Keep telling yourself that, Tommy, and I'm sure that even you will believe it. But as long as you're in a look so dated even Attila the Hun would be ashamed to see it, it won't happen any time soon," she snapped, totally unimpressed by his words. "You might think it inspires fear and awe, but I can tell you that it's the smell that does that."

"How dare you talk to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am?" he demanded, a part of him screaming in rage while the other half just sat, dazedly staring at her.

"Besides being a fashion victim so hopeless even Queer Eye for the Straight Guy would give up on you? I could care less," she glared at him, daring him to say something else. "Because of you, I've been stuck in this same outfit with little chance to get anywhere approaching a state of being decently clean. I am going home and you-you overgrown, badly dressed whey faced, pasty looking doofus-will stay out of my way. You may think you're some kind of big bad, but I assure you, I am far worse."

It had to be shock that kept his wand hand down, he thought as he watched the woman stalk off through his troops. Had to be, shock was a normal thing. It couldn't be fear, not of some…some muggle who had no magical abilities whatsoever. A man of his abilities, of his power, couldn't possibly be intimidated by that slip of a thing.

So, he comforted himself with the thought that it was only shock holding him immobile. His look challenged his followers to defy his belief. Wisely, they looked away.

Sirius half-laughed, half-choked, "Is that all it would take to defeat him? Insult his wardrobe enough that we could sneak in and kill him?"

"Only if you can carry it off like Cordy does," Xander replied, shutting the door. "Scary thing about her is, she means it. That was no act. If there is one thing she takes seriously, it's her sense of style."

"I'll remember that," Sirius commented. He admired the girl for her sheer bravery in doing something that no one else would have dared to do. Not many in the wizarding world would have the guts and self-possession to do what she did. The chit had spunk.

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"We can't wait any longer," Severus announced on the eighth day of the siege. His face bore the same expression it usually did but those who looked hard could see the strain of worry in his eyes. "Not only are we putting my Slytherins in further danger but we there are greater problems arising from our stay here. We are running out of food and chemicals that make decent explosives. Hit and run is damaging them severely thanks to the constant efforts of the Weasley twins-but it is slowly weakening us as well."

"Professor Snape is right," Hermione quickly interjected, stopping Ron's quick defense of his brothers cold. "We need to take out larger chunks of his army. All we're doing now is pecking at his feet, being a minor inconvenience. In order to be on more equal footing, we have to take out more of his forces. There is only so much we can do this way and I don't think any of us is really prepared to kill a human being. What we need is a way to get the humans out of the way that won't harm us-and will also buy our reinforcements time to arrive."

"Heard something the rest of us haven't been privileged to hear, have you?" he snidely asked, rubbing his side when Harry jabbed him with an elbow.

"YES!" Charlie joyously shouted, dashing into the room, further stopping any argument between them. Ron's owl sat on his arm, an almost happy look on its face. "Mum says that with Fudge gone, the new Minister-a Minister Scrimgeour-is activating all available teams of aurors to come to our aid. We just have to hold on for a few more hours."

"Which we don't have," Remus idly commented, diving under the table. "EVERYONE DOWN!" his shout came just as an explosion sounded, rattling against the windows. Though they trembled, the spells binding them held.

It was an inglorious way to start the final battle.

End, Part 22