The Eighth Weasley

Notes - Okay, I messed up bits of the sequences of some scenes in the last chapters and overwrote big time especially since I’m trying to stick with the 15 page chapters and I’m seriously not-managing it (although I am determined this story will NOT go over 75 chapters. It won’t! (And I’m also still stunned that I can reach 15 pages without any effort whatsoever. How do I do this? HOW?)), while re-writing, so now, we finally have the scene that I’ve been juggling for the last 4 chapters. Halle-frigging-lujah!

And, (new notes) - this is the biggest chapter of this to date. Can’t believe I managed this, considering how worried I was that I wouldn’t be able to reach my usual word/ page numbers with this chapter. Then, of course, I didn’t realise quite how many threads I had on the go at once. My silly.

Also, for the record, I want to apologise in advance if my Hagrid-voice is a bit off. I haven’t written him for a while and I’m not a good judge of how accurate my character voices are. I do try and stay in canon as much as possible, but it does get a bit confunding when you have so many characters from two separate canons (soon to be three - muaha! A spoiler!).

Hope you like it though. I had an amusing time with some of the scenes. Some. Ha. I had fun with all of the scenes, really. Oh, and watch out for skin-tight leopard print! It might put you off your dinner ;)

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"You’re leaving me here?"

"Mmm."

Ben sat up amid the muddle of sheets and blankets on the bed, staring at the vampire woman, who was donning a tight-fitting black gown. "But I thought you were meant to be guarding me."

"That is because you have a head full of cotton candy," she replied dreamily, as she smoothed the bodice of her dress. "I came to play with your little snake, because my pet is so lost and far away."

"Glory didn’t give you permission to play with me, did she?"

The vampire grinned at him. "The shining one permitted me to play," she replied, her head swaying from side to side in a strangely reptilian fashion. "But I do not think she believed I would ride her hidden pet," She clapped her hands together gleefully. "Like a wild pony, you are!"

"You’re crazy!"

She pouted, whimpering deep in her throat. "That is no way to be talking to a lady, you wicked boy," she chastised, walking to the bed and kneeling to crawl across the mattress towards him. "So hot...fierce..."

Ben’s protest was smothered, when her cool lips pressed against his again.

Those chilly fingertips touched his cheek as she drew back, staring at him, her tongue running along her teeth. "If mummy’s job is well done, she will make sure you have another little treat before she says farewell, my sweet."

"Huh?"

A hand cupped his crotch through the sheet and the vampire grinned wolfishly at him. "A little treat for you, my pet," she replied in a husky murmur. "When I have picked the lock for the gleaming one."

One more fierce kiss was pressed to his lips and then, she was gone.

Ben fell back among the sheets, staring up at the ceiling. "My life is screwed up," he decided, covering his face with his hands.

***

"I think this is it," Minerva McGonagall said triumphantly.

Along with Spike, the vampire formerly known as William the Bloody, and Anya Emerson, formerly the Vengeance Demon Anyanka, the Deputy Head Mistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been waking in all her spare hours trying to put together some higher defences for the school.

Combining her and Spike’s equally sharp minds had been a stroke of genius on the part of Dumbledore. Anya Emerson’s knowledge of the ancient world and magics that had been around a millennium previously was an additional bonus that none of them could have counted on.

Presently, although it was two hours until dawn, a time when everyone else in the school was probably sleeping, she was in the silent library with the blond vampire, poring over ancient texts.

They were seated at one of the long tables that ran down the centre of the library, books, pages, documents and sheets of parchment scattered in organised chaos around them as they worked in comparative silence, fingers stained with ink and dust.

A candelabra stood in the middle of the table, illuminating their work with soft, flickering light. Both of them were wearing thick, black winter robes to stave off the chill of the massive room, making them nigh invisible to passers-by in the darkness that surrounded them.

Professor Dumbledore had offered his assistance in any way possible and, thanks to him, they had been able to access documents and manuscripts from the ancient library in Diagon Alley.

Many of the pages they had been provided with from the Ministry of Magic had been written in languages long lost to the wizarding world, which had convinced Minerva that they were bound to fail.

However, she had not counted on Anya, who had picked up one of the sheets and started chuckling over it. It transpired to be a vengeance spell that a witch had written down after accidentally using it to transfigure her faithless husband into one of the sheep she had caught him tupping.

That was when they had realised that the thousand-year-old ex-demon could read the pages as easily as if it was the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, giving them an even bigger advantage than they had initially realised they had.

While the Head Master was letting them continue do the research, their team work better than anyone he had known, his own energies were directed into collecting the specific items they needed for the various protection charms.

Bill Weasley’s arrival had provided them with the Amulet of Shiron, the crystal of Adelar and several smaller items, which - when combined in the spells they had uncovered - would provide a near impenetrable protective circle around the school.

Or, at least, that was the hope.

"What now?" Spike looked up from the notes he had been making on a hefty book at Minerva’s exclamation.

"I think I’ve found the solution to that problem we were having with the Mendel incantation," she replied. "It’s a rhyme from that book Anya translated for us and if it matches, we have our answer. After that, it’s just a matter of rearranging the spell to suit Hogwarts, if I’m right."

"So, let the wiser one present see this wonder," he demanded patiently. Turning her script around to face him, she watched his eyes as he studied the notes, a look of weary relief and genuine appreciation crossing his lips. Looking at her, he sighed. "If I wasn’t so bloody knackered, I would kiss you, Minnie."

"Please don’t," she retorted, removing her glasses and rubbing her dust-dry eyes.

The vampire’s half-grin was undercut by the exhaustion that was overcoming both of them rapidly. Not only had they been working most nights on solving the riddles in the ancient documents, but they had also been working through the days - Minerva in her classes and Spike on the notes they had already.

"I’m here now!"

Both of them looked towards the door at the voice of Anya, which sounded a little shriller and more tight than it usually did. A grin that looked forced was plastered on her face and she hurried towards them.

"What do I need to do to make sure I don’t get killed or maimed?"

"We think we’ve found the solution, Demon-girl," Spike nodded towards the book that Minerva had placed her glasses on top of, the witch rubbing both hands over her face. "All thanks to you."

"Oh good," Anya sat down beside Minerva and looked down at the book.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Anya?" The witch inquired curiously, studying the younger, yet much older woman’s face. "I thought you were staying in with Mr Harris tonight."

Anya made a dismissive gesture with one hand, but didn’t look up from the book. "I figured this was more important than spending time with a Muggle who thinks magic is stupid and only wants to stay with me for regular orgasms."

Unnoticed by the ex-demon, the witch and the vampire exchanged looks, both guessing that Anya and Xander’s already rocky relationship had just been taken down an even rockier road.

"So, demon girl, how about it?" Spike broke the awkward silence. "D’you think Minnie’s little discovery makes sense?"

Anya looked up, giving him a frail, grateful smile, her brown eyes moist. "I’ll have to check that I translated the rhyme right," she said, as she looked back down at the page. "I don’t want anything to go wrong with the spell! Everyone’ll yell at me if they get killed."

"If I get killed, I promise I won’t yell at you," Spike said with all the sincerity he could muster, Minerva chuckling behind a hand.

Anya gave him a half-exasperated look. "Obviously, because you’re already dead."

Minerva couldn’t help laughing.

***

"Mornin’ Xander. What are ye doin’ out here this early? An' in this weather?"

Sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree on the lip of the Forbidden Forest, Xander didn’t look around at Hagrid, gazing into the woods. He seemed oblivious to the fact that it felt like it was about to rain, wearing nothing more than Muggle clothes and the most basic of robes. "I guess I just needed to be on my own for a while," he said sadly, his face as clouded as the heavy sky overhead. "Anya and me...we broke up last night... or this morning...a few hours ago...whenever it was."

"Oh..." Shifting his feet awkwardly, Hagrid’s brows beetled together as he fished for some kind of comfort for the young man. "I...well, I’m sorry, if tha’ helps."

"I actually thought it would have happened a lot sooner than this," Xander said, sighing. "Ever since we came back to the magic world, I haven’t been good enough. I didn’t have enough money when we were in Sunnydale. Now, I don’t have enough money or magic or abilities."

"Ye don’ have to be magic or have lots o’ money to be a decent feller, Xander," he said comfortingly. "Maybe ye were wrong for each other anyway?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, forearms resting on his knees, Xander exhaled a breath, which billowed out in a cloud of condensation. "Yeah, I guess so. I don’t have much luck with keeping a woman."

"Ye don’ have much luck? I’m seven’y year ol’, Xander, an’ I don’ have a woman around, do I?" Slapping Xander on the back, he chuckled, a deep, booming sound. "If ye get to my age an’ can say ye’ve only been involved once, I’ll let yer say ye don’ have much luck keeping a woman."

Turning, Xander smiled faintly. "You know, that could be real comforting or real depressing," he said.

"Aye..." Hagrid nodded, then smiled broadly. "Aye, yer right. But never mind about her, eh? Yer a decent Muggle, Xander. Ye’ll get yerself a nice little Muggle girlfrien’ before long."

Standing up, shivering a little Xander nodded. "That’d be kinda different from my record so far," he admitted. "So far, I’ve dated a cheerleader who went to LA to be an actress and ended up as a Seer, my best friend before she found out she was all witchy and an ex-vengeance demon. I guess a boring old Muggle would be kinda nice..."

"Ye’ve dated a seer?"

"Well, she kinda wasn’t a seer when I knew her, but yeah and I seriously screwed up that relationship by getting smoochies from my best friend. A seer, a witch and an ex-demon. Pretty good record, huh?"

Hagrid laughed. "I’ve only ever had a half-giant Witch and lemme tell yer it's not a good idea to argue with one o’ them...she threw the table at my head, without magic, when we were arguin’."

"And I thought doing wacky spells to try and keep my girlfriend was bad," Xander grinned. Drawing a breath between his teeth, he shivered. "Could we kinda maybe go inside? It's kinda cold out here..."

"The kettle’ll be boilin’ by now. Do yer want ter try one o’ my secret-recipe rock cakes?" Hagrid offered, as they started towards his hut. "I just made a new batch fer plugging up the draughts in me hut."

"Uh..." Xander looked up at the giant, then gave him a lop-sided grin. "Hey, why not? You only live once, right? Just..." Hagrid looked down at him questioningly. "If they had bits of skrewt or anything in them, you’d tell me, right?"

"O’ course!" Hagrid boomed cheerfully. "An’ don’ you worry! Nothin’ like that in the rock cakes. Just plenty o’ rock!"

Shaking his head, Xander actually smiled for the first time that day.

Hagrid beamed at him.

He liked the Muggle who was so much like Harry and Ron combined into one rather lonely individual. The boy was almost always on his own, had been since the group had arrived, simply because he wasn’t magical.

The half-giant knew that feeling well.

"Xander," he said, looking down at the young man. "Have yer ever been down ter Hogsmeade? There’s a nice little pub down there and if yer like, we could go and get somethin’ ter eat and yer can see some of the shops and maybe la’er, we can go fer a proper drink."

"Sure!" he replied. "But...what about the rock cakes?"

"Oh, don’ you be worryin’ about them," Hagrid replied cheerfully, eyes crinkling in a smile. "They’ll keep and keep."

"Oh," Xander replied with a look of feigned enthusiasm, pulling the robes he had been given around his body. "Goodie."

As they walked away from the Forbidden Forest, neither of them noticed eyes glittering in the shadows of the trees, watching them depart.

***

"Hi Ron!"

"Morning Amy. Willow. Percy."

The third eldest of the Weasley clan made an incoherent squeaking sound in his throat, avoiding his brother’s eyes as Ron sat down at the breakfast table, pretending to read the latest edition of the Daily Prophet.

"What’s up with him?" Ron asked Amy in a stage-whisper, across the broad table, receiving a brilliant grin in return from the girl. "He seems even stiffer than usual."

"With Percy?" Amy’s eyes flicked to him, then back to Ron. "Who knows?"

Beside Amy, Willow watched Percy from beneath her lashes. He was watching still watching the dark-haired young witch, although he did look convincingly like he was reading the article in his hand.

If this didn’t complicate matters...

Sirius Black had already sought an audience with Willow, asking her far too many questions about Buffy, what she liked, where she liked to go and so on for it to bode well on the ‘happy and straightforward’ relationships scheme of things.

Ron had asked almost exactly the same questions at various stages over the summer, whenever he had been at home and his interest in the Slayer didn’t seem to have dimmed in the least.

It wasn’t so surprising, Willow mused, because Buffy was definitely of the cute and attractive type and a lot of guys did go for the blonde look. She was also smart, funny and strong, which both Sirius and Ron seemed to appreciate.

Buffy, for her part seemed oblivious, distracted by her concerns about her sister.

It was kinda worrying to see Buffy not interested in guys.

Normally, she was the one checking out all the cuties in the vicinity, but lately, even after the yummalicious Sirius had arrived, with everything going on, she had become a lot more work-focused.

Willow was quite honestly surprised that Buffy hadn’t even noticed Sirius’ interest.

Hell, she had briefly wondered what he would be like as boyfriend material when she had first met him. The guy was good-looking and he had a crazy sense of humour that could keep them all laughing for hours.

The only male that Buffy seemed to notice anymore - aside from Giles - was the one she called ‘Snapey’ and that was solely because she had taken to bugging the crap out of him, when she needed to distract herself from the worried about Dawn.

"Morning, kids," Willow heard Ron groan at Sirius’ voice. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Feel free, Sirius," she said, scooting up a little, so the dark-haired wizard could sit down beside her. He glanced up at the High table, where Buffy and Hermione were talking over coffee.

"Great view you’ve got here, Will. And that Professor Summers...Buffy. She’s a very likeable lady," Sirius said amiably, either ignoring or oblivious to the look that Ron sent in his direction. Or maybe not. "Very likeable indeed..."

Ron practically growled in annoyance, scowling at his breakfast.

Sighing, Willow made certain that she had her wand close at hand, as well as her own natural magics ready. Something told her that as long as Sirius and Ron were in the same building, it was going to be a long day.

***

Ben was bored.

More than bored.

He actually wanted Glory to take her form back.

Pacing back and forth across the room, as he had since hours before dawn, when his vampire lover had departed, he wandered towards the window, where rain was pelting against the glass, rattling down the panes.

His eyes drifted to the massive pair of doors that stood opposite the window and he wondered briefly if he would be able to force them open.

He had considered throwing himself out of the window, but looking down at the gravel-strewn yard, many feet below, he had decided against the idea, as he rather liked his body intact.

Given a choice between killing himself and remaining bonded to Glory, he knew he would rather be bonded to a psychotic demon goddess.

Yes, she reduced humans that she didn’t know to little more than babbling husks, she took away the lives of nice, normal people, she ruined the existence of anyone who crossed her path, but better to be in conclave with her than in her way.

It was a shameful way to live.

He knew that he could defeat her with the simple - and noble in this case - act of suicide, but when it came down to it, he knew prized himself so much more than the hundreds or thousands of people she had destroyed.

No one - at least no one that he knew of - would be willing to give their life for the greater good.

No one would love so greatly that they would sacrifice themselves.

Unfortunately, now, his bond with the Hell Goddess had left him imprisoned in a beautiful room, with food and water whenever he wanted it and nothing to do except watch the rain slashing against the windows.

His eyes drifted to the door again.

Well, there was no harm in trying to make an escape.

If Glory liked this place so much, she could always bring their body back.

***

Both slightly merry after a pleasant morning in Hogsmeade, then a few hours in the Three Broomsticks, Hagrid and Xander had just arrived back on the grounds, having avoided the torrential downpour of icy rain a couple of hours earlier.

Xander had intended to make it back in time for Buffy’s little display, but now he knew he was ready to find a nice bed to spend the rest of the rainy day sleeping. It was so dark already, even though it was barely three in the afternoon, that it felt like nighttime for the Californian boy.

He didn’t really mind missing the ‘display’ since he had seen it all before. Having had a lot to drink, lamented his broken relationship, then spent a couple of hours singing karaoke with Hagrid, he was content that his day had been full enough.

Apparently karaoke had just reached the wizarding world, bringing a whole selection of popular Muggle songs, which otherwise might never have been heard, into wizard homes all across the country.

Xander was sure he had never seen anything quite as funny as magic karaoke.

The principal was - as soon as you chose a song - you immediately were kitted out in the clothing and hairstyle of the person you were singing as, as well as receiving generous amounts of make-up based on the look of the artiste.

The only thing that didn’t change was your voice.

Seeing Hagrid dolled up as Tina Turner was quite literally one of the most hilarious things Xander had ever seen, although the tight-fitting, very revealing leopard print number had made his stomach twist in ways he doubted were of the good.

Although, had he been able to get to a mirror, he was pretty sure that he looked just as bizarre in his Elvis Presley look, when he had vainly attempted to sing ‘Heartbreak Hotel’ as a reflection on how he was feeling.

It had been a choice of that song or ‘I will always love you’ and, while he had been tempted to see how they would magically give him a ‘pair’ to rival Dolly Parton, he thought it was safer to actually avoid drag.

Now, though, the sky was dark above them, still billowing with heavy rainclouds that had yet to shed their load, the ground damp and slippery beneath their feet, as they stumbled back towards the hut on the edge of the forest.

"Uh, Hagrid," Xander’s voice was a little slurred, as was his vision. "I know that I had kinda a lot of firewhisky, but....isn’t that a giant spider sitting right behind your house?"

With Hagrid leaning rather heavily on his shoulder, he staggered to a halt and pointed at the rain-sheened mass behind Hagrid’s hut. Either the hut had grown legs or Aragog was paying a visit.

Hagrid squinted at the house, then his face split in a broad smile. "Blimey, Xander, I would never ‘ave noticed ‘im sittin’ there," He slapped Xander on the back. "’E was always good at playin’ ‘ide and seek, was Aragog!"

Xander, after regaining his footing having been almost knocked off his feet by the pat on the back, looked up at Hagrid in disbelief.

Never would have noticed...

An enormous spider the size of an elephant was sitting behind his house, with hairy legs as thick as Xander’s own and twice the length of Xander’s body sticking out in all directions, and he wouldn’t have noticed it...

Although, admittedly, Hagrid had had a little more to drink.

"Does Aragog come out of the forest often?" he asked, quickly interrupting Hagrid’s rambling reminiscing about how cute Aragog had been when he was just a baby, when ‘e were still big enough ter fit in me pocket’.

Hagrid paused and scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Now, tha’s odd, tha’ is," he remarked. "’E don’ ever come out ‘ere. ‘E don’ like bein’ seen. ‘E usually sen’s one of ‘is babies or summat ter get me ter go ter ‘im."

The fuzzy effects of the fire-whisky were rapidly fading as Xander looked from his giant friend to the spider on the other side of the house.

"So he only comes here if it’s important?"

"Not even then," Hagrid murmured, half to himself. "I think I ‘ad better ‘ave a word or two with him, ter see what’s going on."

***

"You’re sure this is okay, Professor?"

Albus Dumbledore beamed at the Slayer. "I’m positive, Miss Summers," he replied as he led her down the hallway, towards the Great Hall. "After all, I have provided you with challenges to test you and I do appreciate observing your skills."

Buffy smiled broadly.

When the Head Master had said he would provide her with a training area like Giles had in the back room of The Magic Box, in Sunnydale, she had been overjoyed. With all the skills she had developed over five years as Slayer, she didn’t want to grow lax because she was a teacher, especially with the growing threat of Glory.

"Where is it?" she asked for the tenth time as they descended another staircase.

"You will have to wait and see, Professor Summers," he chastised with amusement, his eyes twinkling. "And I hope you don’t mind that I have allowed friends and family of Miss Weasley to observe, from a safe, unseen vantage point. They have heard about your skill, but none have been privileged enough to witness it."

"An audience? That’ll be kinda weird and...kinda embarrassing."

"All you need know is that you and they are quite safe," Dumbledore said jovially, motioning towards the doors of the Great Hall. "Everything you see is a physical illusion for you to use. The creatures you fight shall be charmed objects and shall return to their native state as soon as you ‘defeat’ them."

"And it’s in the Great Hall?" Buffy’s eyes widened. "That’s like the biggest hall in the whole school."

Dumbledore smiled. "You did request a challenge and I hope to have provided one for you," He reached into the deep pockets of his robes, then withdrew his hand and a black blindfold. "If you would like..."

A wary look crossed the Slayer’s face. "Do I get weapons before I get in? Or do I wait before the fighting starts?"

"Do you trust me, Professor Summers?"

"Not really, no," she replied, taking the blindfold and placing it across her eyes as she said it. Dumbledore chuckled. Tying the straps behind her head, she allowed the Head Master to lead her towards the door. "Okay...lemme in."

She heard the loud squeal of the doors swinging open, the scent of a damp, musty graveyard washing over her. A shiver of eager anticipation prickled down her spine and she felt Dumbledore’s hand on her arm, directing her forward.

The ground felt soft beneath her feet, a little damp as well, the scent that of a cool California night. She could feel it making soft squishy noises as she stepped. Ho boy! The Head Master really wanted to give her a good challenge!

"There are weapons to your right and I will remind you again that you are in no danger in this room," Dumbledore’s voice was soft and reassuring in her ear. "Should you wish to stop, simply call out ‘stop’ and the illusions will dissipate."

"Can any of the stuff in here hurt me?" she asked carefully.

"You are familiar with the film called Star Wars?" She nodded. "You recall Luke Skywalker’s training?"

"You tell me I’m gonna see me in a Darth Vader suit and I’m outta here!"

"Perhaps earlier training, then," Dumbledore laughed. "When he is learning to use the lightsaber - like the remote in the film, the illusions here will be able to sting, but they will not cause serious harm to you."

"Okay," she nodded again. "Let ‘em at me."

There was a rustling of robes. "Count to ten slowly, then remove the blindfold and the illusions will commence."

Bouncing on her toes in eager anticipation, Buffy counted to ten. She could hear the movement of the Head master as he took himself out of range of danger and as she reached ten, she raised a hand and jerked aside the blindfold.

The setting momentarily took her breath away, the ground resembling one of the cemeteries of Sunnydale to such an extent that she could almost believe that she was back in the town.

She didn’t have much time to speculate, though, as a massive white-skinned demon that looked vaguely familiar leapt out of the bushes to her left, charging towards her at full speed. Dropping onto her back, her feet connected with its stomach and she flipped it, leaping onto her feet again.

Her eyes darted around and she spotted the weapons Dumbledore had mentioned, a few different throwing knives scattered between the gravestones, as well as some stakes, an axe lodged in the trunk of a tree.

Breaking into a run, she managed to grab the axe, yanking it free from the trunk, a moment before her demon attacker caught up with her, a swift swing of the axe connecting with the creature’s neck, its head and body parting company.

"I asked for a challenge!" she yelled to the unseen Dumbledore and was sure she heard a distant chuckle.

As if they had been conjured out of thin air, a triad of vampires - armed with swords and maces - ran at her. She recognised them as replicas of ‘The Three’ and couldn’t help laughing a little at the thought of how unoriginal that name was.

Back-flipping over a moss-covered gravestone, the granite cold against her palms, she slipped a foot under a sword and kicked it up into her waiting hand and taking the head off one of the three before they even realised she was armed.

The other two rapidly followed suite and Buffy shook her hair back from her face with a broad grin, as she straightened up, after staking the third, over the top of a grave at her feet.

An arm locked around her neck.

That was more like it!

Using the axe and sword, she managed to break free of the massive arm, recognising its owner as one of the trio of spiny demons who had unsuccessfully tried to open the Hellmouth only the year before.

Everything she was facing was coming from her memory, that much she knew.

The day before, Dumbledore had offered her a chance to fill a pensieve - some kind of memory...thingie - with images of the demons and creatures she had fought on a regular basis, to give them a more closer approximation of what she had to fight.

She had poured her memories of the fights in and watched in fascination and a little shock the way she fought them in the rippling surface.

She had never realised there were quite so many before or how big a lot of them were compared to her or how incredible her fighting looked. To her, it was simply a job, but watching it played back, it looked like she had it down to an art.

With a powerful sweep of her axe, she caught the demon hard on its right shoulder, sending it crashing to its knees in front of her, then rapidly thrust her sword deep into its chest cavity.

Several more demons followed the same line, attacking and being destroyed in rapid succession. Buffy could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins in a dizzying heady rush.

It had been far too long since she had been able to challenge herself physically like this and she was back in her element now.

The fact that she could not depend on her Slayer senses to tell her where the next attack would come from made it even more of a challenge, forcing her to use her eyes and ears more.

Panting a little, she paused to take in her location, standing on top of one of the low crypts that had been added beside a large clump of bushes. Her sword was gripped in her left hand, the axe in her right and a stake was in her belt.

So far, she had used every weapon available, as well as manipulating the terrain, the open graves, gravestones and patches of sparse shrubbery that might have served as hindrances being used to her benefit.

A tingle from her right side made her whip around, ducking under the attack of a shrieking creature she didn’t recognise. It vaguely resembled an oversized, almost six-foot long, and very bald cat with bat-like ears and claws that lashed at her as it soared over her.

A gasp of pain escaped the Slayer, radiating through her back and she felt damp warmth spreading across her back.

"Stop!" she called out, straightening up.

The cat-creature attacked again, Buffy managing to jerk her sword up to block it.

"Buffy!" Giles’ raised voice reached her over the hoarse caterwauling of the demon cat. She saw him running out of nowhere, also armed. "Something has broken into the room! This isn’t an illusion anymore!"

Slayer-sense kicked in instantly and she swung around, raising her axe as the demon charged her again.

Slashing it across the head, she kicked out hard, catching it across the ribs, and sent it hurtling off the top of the crypt, jumping down after it and bringing her axe down towards the top of its large skull.

The creature was fast, though, jerking out of the way and launching itself at her, its fangs locking around her ankle.

With a yell of pain, Buffy stabbed down through the demon’s face, her other foot slamming down on its ribs to hold it still as she slammed the axe down on its neck, severing head from body.

Behind her, she could hear the sounds of Giles and a few of the other wizards also at battle with invaders. Using the sword to lever the demon’s jaws open, blood spilling down her torn ankle, she turned and ran as fast as she could towards them.

Whatever the demons were, she had never seen anything vaguely like them before.

There were claws, some mucus, whip-like tails, scales, horns, prongs, many arms and legs that seemed to be doing everything at once, but especially snatching at wands before the owners had a chance to use them.

Lunging into the fray, avoiding Dumbledore, Giles, the two eldest Weasleys and Sirius, Buffy swung the axe, cleaving one of the demon’s heads down the middle, while - behind her - another demon was greeted by her foot and sent soaring across the room.

With help from the wizards, the pack of at least a dozen demons were rapidly taken care of, the small knot of humans standing in the centre of the redecorated Great Hall, splattered with blood and goo.

Leaning heavily on the axe she still held, Buffy was panting heavily. "How the hell did they get in here?" she asked Dumbledore breathlessly. "I thought you said this place was protected."

Dumbledore looked far older than she remembered him looking as he surveyed the hall and the demon bodies strewn on the ground. "It appears that Glory is stronger than we anticipated," he replied.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I’m going to help McGonagall, Spike and Anya to get that ancient magical protection up and running," Giles replied for the Headmaster. "We’re going to need it right away."

"That would be wise, Rupert," Dumbledore agreed.

"Go, Giles," Buffy added. "We’ll be okay here."

Giles gave Buffy a look, but she waved him away and he nodded, departing, leaving the Slayer standing unsteadily on her bleeding limb.

"Are you all right, Buffy?" Dumbledore asked with clear concern, stabilising her with one hand.

She grinned faintly. "I've been better," she replied, limping over to sit on one of the magically-created gravestones and wincing. "Gimme a second to get my breath back, then we can go to the medical wing."

Leaning forward, she looked down at her ankle.

The demon’s fangs had torn right through the leather of her black boots and she felt a whine of annoyance rise in her throat. They were her favourite boots and now, they were all torn to pieces.

"You’re bleeding!"

Looking from her ruined boots, Buffy found Sirius kneeling in front of her. He gently lifted her foot and she yelled in pain. "Hey! Stop! Don’t start poking it! You’re making it worse!"

"Oh! Sorry!" Abashed, he dropped the foot instantly and she released an ear-splitting shout of agony as her torn ankle smacked against the side of the gravestone. "Oh crap! Sorry, Buffy!"

Grimacing, she glared at him. Pushing herself back onto her feet, wobbling unsteadily, she pointed at him. "Just...don’t touch anything, okay? I can deal with this kinda thing, except when wannabe first aiders start making things worse."

Sirius backed off immediately, looking very red in the face.

Dumbledore shook his head in mild amusement, approaching and offering Buffy an arm to lean on. "You really are the most surprising of women, Professor Summers. I have never seen anyone with the ability to make Sirius Black blush."

The Slayer’s glare abated somewhat and she leaned heavily on Dumbledore’s arm, her face a myriad of pain. "I do kinda get cranky when some evil demon thing eats my favourite boots," she admitted, taking a limping step alongside the Head Master.

"That is why you were angered by Sirius? Not because your ankle is in pain?"

"Well," Wincing with every step, she grit her teeth. "Yeah, it hurts, but the boots were my favourites...a hundred dollars...and that was in a sale...if Glory shows up, I’m so kicking her ass for sending those demons..."

The Head Master looked at her, partially amused by her attitude, partially worried about her injuries. "Would you like me to help you get to the medical wing, Buffy? I could have a stretcher take you..."

"Nuh-uh," Buffy replied firmly, although she had to reluctantly admit that her vision seemed to be drifting in and out of clarity. "It's just a demon-bite. No biggie. I’ve had way worse than this before. The more I walk and use it, the more quickly I heal."

"What about your back?"

"My...back? What about my back?" That was when the numb tingling in her back was brought to her attention and she twisted one hand up behind her back to touch the back of her pale blue sweater. "Dammit! Not the sweater too!"

"And you are bleeding rather...copiously," Dumbledore added, worry visible in his blue eyes.

"I am? Crap..." Sighing, the Slayer ran her free hand through her hair. "Okay, get me to the medical wing, Professor."

***

Coming to yet another junction in the massive house, Ben looked left and right. He couldn’t help feeling that he had passed this particular way before and it was starting to get a bit creepy.

It felt like he was being watched by unseen eyes.

The whole massive house felt like it was alive with some malevolent force, a force that knew what he was and what he carried in him. And, he realised, with a shudder, the house liked what it saw within him.

Glory and this house...

It was frightening to think an inanimate building could be so full of dark power that it recognised a Hell Goddess in her host’s form.

He had managed to break out of his room which was - fortunately - not locked by magic, using bits and pieces that he had found lying around the room, as well as breaking several expensive-looking pieces of furniture.

However, he had yet to find the exit.

The halls were dim, lampless. The only illumination he had were the rectangular panels of dull daylight that added grey patches to the blackness of the halls, through the windows set high in the walls.

He had been walking for what felt like hours, without seeming to get anywhere.

He had passed several doors, looking into the rooms on the other side, but none of them seemed to lead to a staircase that would allow him to escape the mansion that had been his prison for days.

"I don’t see why we should have to..."

Voices!

Thank you God!

Voices meant that there were other people nearby and other people meant he could get directions and directions meant he could get the hell out of here without anything worse happening to him.

Following them, he rounded another corner and saw a light slanting out through and open door.

Peering in, he saw a striking blonde woman, in her late thirties, perhaps early forties, sitting in a window box. She was clad in a dove-grey set of robes and was gazing out the window at the dark skies.

Behind her, an equally fair-haired young man was pacing angrily back and forth across the floor of the room. His pointed face was flushed with what could only be anger, an ugly scowl twisting his features.

"Uh...excuse me?" Ben cleared his throat hesitantly. "Hi..."

Both of the occupants of the room turned sharply, staring at him, the young man pointing a narrow stick of wood at him. "Who the hell are you and how the hell did you get into our home?"

"Draco," the woman sighed, standing up. "That’s hardly polite."

Ben privately agreed with her, thinking the boy must be slightly mad to wave a stick at random strangers. "I...I woke up in a bedroom here a few days ago..." Yes, this was the most coherent response he could come up with. "With a vampire... I don’t know how I got here."

"Do you know a woman named Glory?" the boy demanded angrily.

"Uh...you could say that...why?"

"Draco..."

"I want you to tell that gold-digging slut to get out of our home and away from my father!" Ah, so this is why the little ass was in a bad mood. Daddy was screwing around with a blonde goddess. "I want you to tell her go back to whatever hellhole it was she came from."

He really was closer than he knew, the boy.

"Draco Malfoy!" the woman snapped angrily. "Did I raise you to behave this way?"

The boy gave Ben a venomous look, then turned to his mother. "Mother, I apologise, but I feel I have every right to want that filthy whore out of our lives. She is probably after father for wealth and status."

Unfortunately, what the blond youth was saying was being relayed straight back to Glory and Ben staggered back a step. She really wasn’t amused by the cocky little jerk, that was for sure.

"I-I can’t tell her what to do."

"Got you by the balls as well, eh?"

Ben shuddered as he felt Glory stirring from her dormant position in the back of his consciousness, her irritation rising. "Look, buddy, just tell me how I get outta this place! It’ll be better for all of us if I’m gone."

"And you’ll take your whore with you?" the boy sneered.

Ben would have screamed a warning, but Glory surged to the fore and Ben was pushed back in her consciousness, his body bursting out into her one, leaving him as a helpless observer as she grabbed the boy by the throat and slammed him back against the wall.

"You know, puddin’," she cooed. "That was real rude of you."

Malfoy was gagging and clawing at her wrist, the blonde woman running forward.

"Please!" she grasped at Glory’s arm in desperation, her eyes wild and expression writ with panic. "Let him go! You’re choking him!"

Glory looked the woman up and down. "So you’d be Lucius’ wife, huh? Quite the stallion, ain’t he?" she grinned lewdly, then looked back at Draco. "Pity this arrogant little jerk doesn’t behave like his daddy-oh."

Her other hand rose and she trailed her fingertips down the choking youth’s brow.

"You never know, sweetie," she sighed dreamily. "One day I might just suck you dry like a sponge...one day when your daddy sees through you like I do." She smiled coldly and dropped the youth to the floor, gagging and breathless, his face scarlet. The woman knelt and gathered him in her arms fearfully. "You might wanna teach your little boy some manners."

Ben wished he could force his way back out and apologise to the sobbing woman, who was clinging to her nearly unconscious son, but he couldn’t and Glory just stood there, smirking as Draco gasped for breath in his mother’s arms.

***

"Professor!"

Snape wanted to smack his head down on the desk in front of him, wondering how another pupil - aside from Summers Junior - had been able to find where his private chambers were.

"Professor Snape!" Whoever it was, it wasn’t one of the younger pupils. Sixth or seventh year at least and they were knocking on the portrait with a little too much vigour for his liking. He could hear the portrait complaining loudly.

Rising from his desk and the scrolls he was marking, he approached the painting. He had stayed in his chambers tonight for several reasons: Sirius Black was still in the castle; Buffy Summers was still in the castle and was doing a display of her skills; he wanted to be able to turn down one of Dumbledore’s invitations for once; and, most importantly, he needed to reaffirm his standing as an anti-people person.

"OPEN!" He heard the feminine voice cry out and, much to his shock, the portrait swung outwards.

Well, if that wasn’t classed as an invasion of privacy...

And since when had someone been able to open the doors of the private chambers without a password?

A frenzied-looking red-haired young woman crashed straight into him as he stepped into the doorway and he looked down to find Willow Weasley staring wildly up at him, a trickle of blood running from her nose, her eyes slightly glassy.

"Thank God," she squeaked pitifully.

"Weasley, what is the meaning of this?" he demanded, catching her by the elbows as she staggered, almost falling, her eyes unfocused.

She had drawn on her inner powers, powers that most of the teachers only spoke in hushed whispers about. She must have done. Nothing else could leave her looking so sapped and disorientated.

"Weasley?"

"I...I...had to..." She sagged against him and Snape groaned in disbelief. This was just bloody typical. Lifting her quickly, he carried her to the bed and deposited her on it, then hurried to his shelves, seeking out a specific potion.

Returning to her side, he opened her lips and forced the peppery contents of a small vial down her throat.

It took effect almost instantly, the girl sitting up, coughing and choking.

"So, Weasley," Snape snapped, hauling her to her feet. While the potion was ideal for reviving people, if she didn’t start moving on her own, she was liable to faint again. "May I know why you felt you had the right to invade my chambers?"

"Dumbledore sent me to get you," she replied, swaying, her shaking hands spread on his chest as she appeared to try to regain her balance. "We need some kinda potion, sanguine potion...right now..."

Sanguine potion?

That potion was only ever used to replace blood that had been lost in vast quantities and was seldom required in Hogwarts, so seldom that he hadn’t brewed any in two months. That meant that the last batch he had sent to Pomfrey would be out of date.

Fortunately, it was quick to brew in cases of emergency, usually taking fifteen minutes as long as all the components were readily at hand.

Still gripping Weasley firmly by one elbow, he dragged her out of the room and down the hallway, lit only by torches, towards the dungeons. "What happened?" he asked tersely, their footsteps loud in the darkened halls.

"Buffy...she was doing her thing..." Weasley’s coherence was rapidly returning and he flashed a look down at her. Her eyes were coming back into focus. "Some demon things got into the Great Hall and she got hurt."

"Demons? In the school? Don’t be absurd!"

"Hello!" Weasley snapped back in the same tone of voice, jerking her elbow free of his hand. "Saw ‘em all with my own two eyes! There were demons! Big, ugly, scaly, clawy, icky, bitey, drooly demons!"

Wonderful gift for visuals, this girl had. However, something she had said caught his attention. He didn’t know why, but he felt...something, although he wasn’t certain quite what, when he asked, "And Summers was bleeding?"

"Wherein lies the need for sanguine potion for Madam Pomfrey," Weasley replied, glaring at him, practically jogging to keep up with his longer strides. "Do you have kinda... lying around?"

"Lying around?" Snape snorted in disgust. "Have you no respect for the patience and skill that goes into making a substance such as the sanguine potion, Weasley? It is not something one would make on a random whim and have, as you so eloquently put it, lying around. It takes deftness, patience, care..."

"So you can make all kindsa weird magic potions. So you’re all skilful and creepy and uber-smart and sneaky and everything," Weasley returned at him bitterly. She really was a fiery little creature when she was angry. It was like having an irritated pixie flitting around him. Harmless and quasi-bitchy, but very amusing. "Big whoop for you! Have you got any sanguine stuff lying around?"

Black eyes flashed at her and he was smugly pleased to notice her recoil at his dark glare. So she was still afraid of him. That was a plus. "No, Weasley," he replied. "We have no potion left, which - I’m afraid - is why we are going to the laboratories."

"But Buffy!"

"I am acutely aware that Summers is in a perilous situation, little girl," he snapped, never breaking pace. "However, having you panic will do very little to aid us - or her - at this precise moment, so if you would be kind enough to keep your head and try not to lose control of your abilities again, as great a challenge as it may be."

Weasley stared at him. Running along to keep up with him, she seemed to gather her thoughts and then asked, "What do we do?"

"We brew a fresh batch of potion, obviously."

"We?"

Snape raised his dark eyes ceilingwards, exhaling a breath between his teeth. "Yes, Weasley," he replied, opening the classroom door with a gesture of his wand. The candles flared to life. "We, together, will produce a potion to aid your friend."

"But you..."

"Weasley," he said calmly, various implements flying out of the cupboards with a rapid succession of wand gestures. "If you intend to babble, I will be forced...no, I will take pleasure in putting a silencing spell on you."

Weasley flashed a glare at him that was really quite impressive. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"I only have one set of hands," he said, already bent over a large cauldron, which was settled over a large ring of flame on the floor of the dark dungeon. He was adding fluids from various vials that he had summoned from the cupboards. "I shall work on the potion. You will prepare the nightstar roots, gilded moth wings and the nettlebalm for the latter stages."

"You know Buffy’ll wanna kill you if she knew what was in this, right?" Weasley said, more to herself than to the Potions Professor, before she started working on her parts of the potion.

That particular thought put a song in Snape’s heart and a nasty grin on his face, as they worked.

***

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!"

Hagrid stopped short, Xander ploughing into his back, on entry to the large round office at the sight of the grim faces of several members of staff, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Sirius Black, Harry and Ginny Potter all blocking his path towards the Head Master’s desk.

"What is it, Hagrid?" Dumbledore said, the group parting and allowing him through.

"Aragog, sir," Hagrid blurted out. "’E was at me ‘ouse, in a right state, sir! Came right outta the forest to find me an’ tell me! They ‘ad someone go inter their ‘ollow, the spiders ‘ave! A lot of someones an’ Aragog said they could’n see who it was, sir, an’ ‘e said," A grief-stricken look crossed Hagrid’s face at the thought of his arachnid friend’s anguish. "‘Is children, sir...they killed hundreds of ‘is children! Aragog never did nothin‘ to ‘arm anyone and they killed ‘is children an’ gran’children!"

Ron made some kind of choking sound and Harry immediately flashed a look at him, which made Ron fall silent.

"So they did come through the Forbidden Forest, then," Dumbledore said quietly, half to himself. "I suppose they were masked by some kind of darker magic than that we are familiar with until she deemed fit to reveal them."

"Who did what, sir?" Hagrid asked, looking and feeling rather flummoxed.

Blue eyes lifted to him and the giant could see the weariness in the Head Master’s expression. "I’m afraid there has been a successful attack within the school and we can only assume that Glory is behind it."

"Whoa! Whoa! What do you mean ‘attack’?" Xander demanded, stepping around Hagrid, his eyes narrowed. "Are Buffy, Wills and Dawnie okay? And Anya? Is Anya okay too?"

Dumbledore met the youth’s worried gaze calmly, a calm that had been practised through Voldemort’s reign. "Miss Summers was forced to fight a group of demons and received several injuries," He raised a hand to silence Xander. "She is being treated in the medical wing at present and will be fine. No one else was harmed."

"That li’l girl was forced ter fight demons? Professor Dumbledore, sir! That isn’ ri’!" Hagrid exclaimed. Looks were exchanged among the Weasleys and Xander glanced up at him. Clearly, there was something he hadn’t been told. "She’s jus’ a li’l girl! She can’ figh’ demons, Professor Dumbledore, sir!"

The Head Master gave him a passive smile. "You would be quite surprised, Hagrid," he said. "To learn what Professor Summers is capable of. I believe it is safe to say that she is a good deal stronger than she looks."

"Good thing too," Sirius Black added. "If it had been one of us against those...things, I don’t think we’d have walked away like Buffy did."

"Or humiliated you like Buffy did," Ron added with a touch of glee. Hagrid saw a dark look flash from Sirius to Ron, which was odd in itself, as they had always got on so well before.

Dumbledore raised a hand before Sirius could speak again. "Now, now," he said, although there was an unmistakable amused glint in his eyes. "I trust you all have taken your new tasks to heart?" Nods went around the room. "We will see you back here as soon as you are able."

"Tasks? What’s going on?" Xander was the one to ask Hagrid’s question.

As the Weasleys, the Potters and Sirius filed out of the office, Charlie paused beside Xander. "We have to get things ready, in case this demon...person attacks. We’re the cavalry, so we’ve all got to go and prepare."

"Right," Xander acknowledged.

Hagrid recognised the tone in his voice. It was the tone of voice that Harry had used the moment that he realised that he was no longer safe, even at Hogwarts, when You-Know-Who had returned.

One massive hand came down on Xander’s shoulder. "It’ll be all righ’, Xander," he said, his deep booming voice reduced to a low rumble. "Ye’ve got Dumbledore on yer side, as well as all of Hogwarts and yer friends. Everything’s goin’ ter be fine."

"Yeah..." Xander sighed. "Yeah, you’re probably right."

Hagrid managed to smile down at him, wishing he was as convinced as he sounded.

***

"You really ought to stay still!"

"I’m all right!" Buffy sat up sharply to prove a point and her hand immediately went to her forehead, a groan escaping her. "Okay, maybe not quite that good..."

Giles immediately pushed the Slayer back down on the bed in the medical wing, his green eyes shadowed with worry. "Buffy, please, you have to get some rest and allow the potion to work its way fully into your system."

"You know how bad I am at the staying-still thing," Buffy pouted up at him, shuffling up to lean against the pillows in more of a sitting position.

The bed was curtained off and Giles was the only one present. The rest of the wing had been cleared almost an hour earlier by the rather aggravated Madam Pomfrey after all the Weasleys and Buffy’s friends had piled into the long ward.

The only visitors since then had been Snape, to provide sanguine potion and a brief disdainful look before sweeping off again, Dawn - with Duncan allegedly for moral support - and Willow.

Willow had announced that she would make sure that Dawn was safe for the night, only for Dawn to rebelliously announce that she had a free room in the Gryffindor dorms that she wanted to use.

Giles had been forced to separate the two, Buffy in no condition to do it herself. It had been before the freshly-concocted sanguine potion had started to work and she was tired, pale and dizzy.

Dawn had won her side of the argument and looked smug about it, but Willow - taken aside by Giles - was told to make sure that the brunette teenager did end up in her room in Gryffindor tower and no one else’s.

Especially a certain Scottish boy, who appeared very interested in the brunette.

They had departed, leaving Buffy drifting in and out of sleep and a series of waking dreams, which had been unnerving and surreal. Many of them featured a tall, slender, faceless shadow with glowing gold eyes, flitting through the halls of Hogwarts, always just out of her reach.

She had woken, only moments earlier, feeling a lot better, to find Giles sitting by her bedside. He had watched over her, he said, as her lost blood was gradually topped up with the dark red potion, provided by Snape.

"I am more than aware what a bad patient you are," Giles admitted, his expression growing serious. "But it would be much wiser if you did rest. You’re going to need your strength more than ever now."

Buffy’s eyes settled on his face. "Things are that bad, huh?"

"You just needed the magical equivalent of a blood transfusion, Buffy," he replied gravely. "That alone should tell you how serious this situation has become."

"Dawn...where is she?"

Looking around to check that Madam Pomfrey wasn’t anywhere nearby, Giles slid a hand into his pocket and withdrew a tattered-looking piece of parchment, laying it on the table. "Willow gave me this, courtesy of Harry."

"A dirty piece of paper?" Buffy looked from it to him, trying to cover a mischievous smile. "Well, if that’s the kinda thing you like, that’s Christmas taken care of..."

"Buffy..."

"All right, all right," she laughed. "What’s the bit of paper for?"

Tapping it with his wand, Giles muttered "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

"Giles, it's paper. It doesn’t hear...hey! Neat! There’s writing!"

Rising to sit on the bed beside her, he held the scrap of parchment between them and let her watch as a map of Hogwarts fanned out before their eyes, tiny dots moving here and there.

"What is this thing?" she asked in awe, laughing as she spotted the dots that bore her own name and Giles’, in the medical wing on the map. Nearby, Madam Pomfrey was apparently bustling around in a store room.

"The Marauders’ Map," Giles explained with a faint smile. "When Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and James Potter, Harry’s father, attended Hogwarts, they were known to each other as the Marauders and were - by all accounts - a band of troublemakers. They made it their duty to find out everything they could about the school and poured all their knowledge into this map, for future generations of school-rule-breakers."

"How...how does it work?"

"Purely by magic," Giles answered. "I can’t imagine how they came up with it, but it bears the mark of genius." He tapped the map with his wand again and muttered under his breath, "The tower."

The lines on the map shifted rapidly, forming a cross-section of what was clearly recognisable as Gryffindor Tower. Giles tapped one of the levels with the wand, the lines changing again to reveal an overhead floor-plan of the level.

"There’s Dawn," he said, pointing to a dot on the small couch-shaped block in front of the main fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. "And there," he pointed to another dot by the table behind her. "Is Mr. Cameron."

"He’s a sweet kid," Buffy remarked thoughtfully. "But if he touches her, I’ll break both his legs. And," she added as an afterthought. "His arms."

"I’m sure Willow and Hermione will make certain that young Mr Cameron behaves in an appropriate manner," Giles chuckled, raising the map to his eyes and looking for the dots of the two witches. "Oh..."

"What is it?" Buffy demanded. "Was someone doing something?"

Giles shook his head. "Mischief managed," he said hastily, wiping the map. "There was nothing happening. Willow and Hermione are close enough to make sure that no harm comes to Dawn."

Although, he knew, trying to smother a grin at the thought, there could only be one thing that the two witches were doing to make their identity dots on the Marauders map overlap like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: Coming in the next chapter - Dawn decides to test her polyjuice potion with rather insane results, Giles has a bit of an accident, Buffy touches something she shouldn't have and ends up in a rather sticky situation, Snape is forced to deal with someone he would rather not deal and lots more in chapter 42 of The Eighth Weasley.