Sirius sat by the fire, absently swirling the remnants of his fire whiskey in his glass, his thoughts solely on Harry.
When Dumbledore had first informed him that his godson would be taking Occlumency lessons from Snape of all people, he had not been pleased. Now, however, after speaking with Harry in the fireplace not a week ago, he was positively livid.
How dare that sniveling git tarnish James' memory to Harry, no less? It made his blood boil.
Then, as if that weren't enough, Harry and the others were stuck with that Umbridge hag, who by all accounts, sounded like a real piece of work, one that could possibly rival his own dear mother. Though Dumbledore insisted that no harm would come to the students, that there were others who would ensure their safety, Sirius was not convinced. He could still remember the cruelty Mommy Dearest inflicted on him, her own son.
She, at least, had a modicum of interest in his preservation, the first few years, anyway. Umbridge was under no such pressure.
With these thoughts swirling in head, torturing him, Sirius swallowed the rest of his fire whiskey in one consuming gulp; the familiar burn, however, brought him no comfort. Harry needed him, and there wasn't a single thing he could. He was... helpless. Worse than helpless. He was stuck within the walls of 12 Grimmauld Place while everyone else was out on Order business.
How he hated this house and everything it represented.
Seized by a fit of anger, Sirius hurled his glass at the wall, feeling a small sense of satisfaction as he heard the glass shatter, watched the tiny bits of glass fall onto the carpet like stars in the night sky.
It wasn't nearly enough, though. He itched to do something, anything.
For one impetuous moment, he entertained the idea of Apparating himself to the gates of Hogwarts and just so he could see his godson and make sure he was okay, consequences be damned. He even made to reach for his wand – only to realize that it wasn't in its usual spot. In fact, it wasn't on his person at all.
Sirius groaned. Of course, Dumbledore had asked to borrow it—
Sirius sat up straight as an impossible thought occurred to him. Had the old fox known he would try something like this? It was difficult to believe, as it was a completely impulsive move on his part, but then why the devil would the old man need it otherwise?
Suddenly feeling the urge to pace, to help him collect his thoughts as he puzzled this latest mystery out, Sirius leapt to his feet. He was quickly halted by the crunch of glass underfoot, though.
Grimacing, Sirius looked down at the mess he had made. Out of habit, he instinctively reached for his wand once again. When he found it wasn't there, he let out a loud curse and turned toward the door.
"Kreacher!"
He plunked himself back down into his chair and waited, but nothing happened. Wondering where the foul house elf had gotten himself to, he tried again, this time with considerably less patience.
"KREACHER!"
Another minute passed before the house elf finally appeared before him with a loud *pop*.
The baleful manner in which Kreacher glared at him only served to irritate Sirius further.
"Clean up this mess and bring me another fire whiskey," he ordered somewhat harshly. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Not necessarily in that order."
Kreacher bowed toward him, even though Sirius could see it pained him to do so. "Yes, Master."
"Could you please make that two fire whiskeys, Kreacher?"
Dumbledore.
Sirius leapt to his feet, the unexpected break in monotony Dumbledore's visit brought far outweighing his current mood.
"Albus! Back so soon?" he asked. "I thought I wasn't to expect you until tomorrow."
Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, affairs concluded a little sooner than expected," he said, walking over to the other chair in the study. As he began to take a seat, Kreacher appeared with two fire whiskeys, and he took one. "Thank you, Kreacher."
The house elf said nothing. He simply stared back rather rudely for a moment before turning to give Sirius his drink.
Sirius' tempered instantly flared. Before he could say or do anything to the little beast, however, Dumbledore pointedly cleared his throat.
"I believe this is yours," he said, extending Sirius' wand out to him.
Though he kept his tone mild, Sirius could see the mild rebuke in his eyes.
Because he didn't want to get another lecture on how one can catch more thestrals with fresh meat than with spoiled - and more importantly, because the appearance of his wand reminded him of the mystery surrounding it - Sirius swiped his glass of fire whiskey from Kreacher and sat back down.
The damned elf immediately began attending to the broken glass on the floor; rather loudly, too. Not wanting to distract from the explanation he was owed, however, Sirius simply ignored this and took his wand from Dumbledore.
Though he immediately felt a sense of relief wash over him as his hand closed around it, he said nothing and just waited.
Knowing why Sirius was uncharacteristically silent, Dumbledore obliged, deciding to get right to the heart of the matter as soon as Kreacher had finished.
"Sirius, you have a niece," he said bluntly.
Sirius felt his jaw drop. If it was anyone but Dumbledore telling him this, he would have immediately thought it a joke. Even so-
"Surely, you must be joking, Albus. You do remember that Regulus has been dead for quite some time now, right?"
Dumbledore gave him a rueful smile. "I have just returned from seeing her, and as your wand has verified, she is indeed your brother's daughter."
Though Sirius still had no idea how it was possible, he knew Dumbledore would not say something like this lightly. And apparently, his own wand had verified it, making it nearly impossible to refute. Despite this, however, it was still a bit hard to swallow. For a brief moment, Sirius even thought to check the family tapestry, was halfway to his feet even, before he thought better of it.
The blasted thing had been charmed to only show legitimate, full-blooded witches and wizards. They couldn't sully the family tree with indiscretions, could they? If they had been allowed to live, that was. Sirius had heard whispers in his childhood, after all, ones that had made his blood run cold.
And yet somehow, it seemed as though Regulus had had a child, one that had remained safe from his psychotic family.
Dazed, Sirius took a huge gulp of his fire whiskey.
"But…how? When? And may I repeat, HOW?"
"Apparently, Regulus had a brief liaison shortly before his death," Dumbledore explained.
Sirius frowned. "And we're only finding this out now? A bit dodgy, don't you think? Could this be some sort of trick?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "I think not. The mother is a Muggle from America, without the slightest notion that magic exists. And up until a few hours ago, the girl herself did not know of her heritage, for she had no magical ability of her own."
Sirius gave a jolt at this news. "She's a Squib? I suppose it's possible, particularly if her mother is a Muggle," he said thoughtfully. He could feel himself warning to the idea of having a niece; at least, one who had no previous connection to demented family. Still, he hesitated. "What's her name?"
"Buffy."
Sirius burst out laughing despite himself and the gravity of the situation, the last of his reservations melting away.
"Regulus has a secret, illegitimate daughter, who also happens to be a half-blood Squib, and her name is Buffy? I like her already," he declared, raising his glass in cheers.
Amusement danced in Dumbledore's eyes, well aware of why this news would be delightful to Sirius. It quickly faded, however, as he prepared to deliver the rest of his news.
"Be that as it may, she is a Squib no longer. She recently came into her powers."
This made Sirius pause. "How's that? It's rather late for that, isn't it? She must be, what, seventeen years old?"
"Sixteen," Dumbledore corrected. "Yes, it is unusual… but Buffy was a Vampire Slayer, which tends to inhibit wand magic."
Sirius paled. "A Vampire Slayer? And wait, what do you mean, she 'was' a Vampire Slayer? If I remember correctly, it is a lifelong post, an abbreviated one at that," he said with a grimace, taking a much-needed sip from his glass.
"Indeed it is. A girl is Chosen until her demise. And Buffy did indeed die," Dumbledore confirmed, politely ignoring the way Sirius spit his fire whiskey out at this. "When she was resuscitated shortly thereafter, the Slayer line had passed on to another girl and her magical powers were unlocked."
"Merlin!" Sirius sputtered, clutching at his chest. "I'm going to need a mediwitch before this conversation is over with. When can I see her?"
"I will be leaving to see her again later this evening," Dumbledore replied. Then, perhaps sensing that Sirius fully planned on accompanying him on this visit, he quickly added, "I'm hoping to convince her to return with me to London soon after that, at which point you two can meet."
Frustrated beyond belief, Sirius collapsed in his chair. "You can't be serious, Albus! I'm just to sit here and wait? And what if she decides not to come? What then?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I know this is trying, but we cannot afford to lose sight of the larger picture here, despite our personal feelings," he said. When all he received was a surly look in return, he tried a different tack. "We must also think of Buffy and what's best for her, Sirius. She has understandably been taken quite by surprise by all this. It is of the utmost importance that we do not frighten her, particularly since she is in an extremely vulnerable position now as a result of her recent brush with death, perhaps more so than she even realizes…"
Sirius looked up sharply at this last part, sensing the man had more to say on the subject but was refraining from doing so. And indeed, Dumbledore blithely continued on.
"And let us not forget that there is much she still needs to understand, including who you are and the circumstances surrounding your situation here."
Knowing he would not win this argument, Sirius stared at the fire moodily. He heard Dumbledore stand, and as he passed by, he put a sympathetic hand on Sirius' shoulder, which Sirius immediately shrugged off. To his surprise, this made Dumbledore chuckle.
Sirius looked up sharply at the other man.
"She's quite like you," Dumbledore offered, his eyes twinkling brightly.
Then he continued to make his way to the door.
Sirius watched him go. Before he disappeared, however, something occurred to Sirius.
"Albus!" he called out. "How did you know? How did you know to find her?"
Dumbledore paused for a moment before turning back around.
"The Ministry intercepted a call to the London authorities, inquiring about you and your brother. We managed to trace this call to Buffy's mother. Upon visiting her, I learned of Buffy's existence and put the pieces together from there," he explained. Then he inclined his head. "Good night, Sirius. I promise to keep you abreast of all developments."
Then he was gone, and Sirius was left alone once again.
Chaos reigned down in the Master's Lair. The Anointed One watched as a few vampires ran around, frantically collecting their belongings, erasing all traces of their existence there, as they waited for any other survivors to return.
At first it was amusing; they reminded him of the ants he used to play with when he was human, racing back and forth in panic whenever he would put a rock in their path or pour water down into their ant colony. It became less amusing when only two more vampires trickled in, showing just how few of them were left. Real annoyance set in much later, when the others were finally done and realized that they didn't have a clue what to do next.
That was when the arguing began.
Still, the Anointed One said nothing. He just watched, waiting to see what they said.
They continued on with their squabbling for what seemed like forever until Joshua, the oldest of the group, stood up on one of the rocks like the Master used to and bellowed for silence.
"There's an abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. The Master had me scout it out weeks ago—"
"You mean stay in town? Are you crazy? The Slayer will hunt us all down!" another vampire – Anna – exclaimed.
A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd. Emboldened by this, she pushed her way to the front of the others to rally them.
"The Slayer knows where we are now. We are not safe here. We should have left town already, before the sun rose."
Joshua snarled. "We should strike now while we have the element of surprise, when the Slayer and her friends are still celebrating, thinking us defeated."
"But we are defeated!" Anna shot back.
A few others growled in agreement, rallying closer to her, and Joshua's eyes flashed yellow. Before he or anyone else could act, however, the Anointed One finally stood.
"Silence."
He hadn't shouted, or even spoken much above a whisper. He didn't have to. All eyes immediately went to him - right before they lowered in deference as everyone remembered their place.
The Anointed One skimmed over all of them until he found Anna, who shrank from his frown. Her allies immediately stepped away from her, their quiet support gone. Before he could think of an appropriate punishment, however, an unfamiliar voice filled the room.
"So we run from one little Slayer? My, how things have changed in my absence."
All the vampires turned to see someone tall and dark standing in the entrance. The Anointed One did not recognize him, though most of the others seemed to. And they did not look happy to see him.
"Absalom," Joshua greeted, somewhat stiffly. "You have returned."
Absalom nodded as he walked into the lair. "Just in time, too, it appears," he said scornfully. "Where is our Master? Has he been freed?"
Everyone fell completely silent, nervously shuffling their feet and staring at the floor.
Disgusted with their behavior, the Anointed One stepped forward and met Absalom's eyes unwaveringly.
"He is gone, killed by the Slayer when he tried to open the Hellmouth," he said.
Absalom's eyes blazed with anger. "The Master was defeated, and yet all of you here live to tell the tale? Isn't that curious?"
Joshua jumped down from his perch until he was toe to toe with Absalom, growling back his displeasure at the insinuation. "At least we were here," he shot back."You've been gone for over a year now, when the Master needed you most."
Absalom's hand shot out and grabbed Joshua by the throat. "I was exactly where I was supposed to be on his orders, and I returned as soon as he sent word to me, but I was overseas," he hissed. "That still does not explain why the Master is dead. Nor does it explain who this child is."
"He is the Anointed One," Joshua managed to choke out, a sense of satisfaction gleaming in his eyes at Absalom's reaction to this news. Seeing his opportunity, he broke the other vampire's hold. "As for the Slayer, she is stronger than we thought. And she is not alone. We could barely see the Master, let alone get to his side before he turned to bone—"
Absalom gave a start at this. "His bones still remain?" he asked, the eagerness clear in his voice.
"Yes,"the Anointed One spoke up. "Why?"
Absalom's face split into a wide grin. "It means that all may not be lost and we may yet have him back. We will need to retrieve his bones, however."
The group fell silent as they all realized who had the Master's bones, and that she wouldn't give them up easily.
"I have an idea," the Anointed One finally said. "We know who the Slayer is. We can find her and make her give them to us. And if she doesn't, we'll hurt her, just like she hurt us."
A/N: Still with me?