The Eighth Weasley

THE GOOD, THE BAD & THE HAIRY

Notes: This is another of those random chapters that came to me at the dead of night, which seemed like a really good idea. I almost forgot it by the time I woke up, but here it is - being typed frantically so I don´t forget it again. (Just so you know how long it´s been lying around for, today is 27th Oct. 2002)

New notes (10th March): EEP! When I wrote this chapter originally, I had no absolute idea where the story was going. Since then, everything has happened! And to think this was once considered a long chapter. 4000+ words, and now, it´s considered a small chapter... that´s the equivalent of a third of my dissertation. Now, though, Faith, Wes, Gunn, Lorne and everyone else has to be added. Look out people, methinks it´s going to be a big un! Again!

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A few days had passed since the new trio had arrived from America, the two men given rooms fairly close to Professor Summers, which was close enough to the main area of the school, yet out of the way enough not to draw too much attention.

Faith, though, had nervously asked Dumbledore if she could be in the same room as Buffy and Dawn, for self-assuring reasons, as well as to be there, in case anything should happen.

He had agreed and Buffy had accepted that it was probably the safest idea, the room being expanded to connect with the vacant neighbouring one, providing a bedroom that could have rivalled in size the entire Summers´ house in Sunnydale.

Faith had stood by, staring in astonishment as the room simply seemed to grow in front of their eyes. Wesley and Gunn looked equally impressed when they were told what had happened, although both looked like they thought Faith still had a screw loose somewhere.

All three of the new arrivals had been utterly awed by the school and Buffy had been forced to drag them into one of the most boring rooms, to stop them staring, in order to make them pay attention, so she could explain what was going on in detail.

Back in Los Angeles, Angel had given them briefest of overviews and all of them had agreed to help, since the fate of the world rested on the situation. He, meanwhile, had gone to hunt some other allies down, leaving his people in her care.

They all wanted to help in the fight to save the world.

All right, Gunn claimed he had agreed because he was curious about the land that `English´ came from, to which Wesley had shaken his head and reminded the younger man that they were in Scotland, not England, and that mixing the two up would not go down well with the natives.

"I can´t believe we want you guys on our side," Buffy had said, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips.

Faith had just laughed at them both. "You know boys, B," she had said with a knowing look in the direction of the blonde Slayer. "If it ain´t about the screwin´, it´s about the fightin´. Come to think of it, you got weapons here?"

"We have a few, but I think that Professor Flitwick has offered to take you down to Diagon Alley, to the stores there. They have some specialist magical weapons stores and if you ask carefully..."

"We might be able to dig up some dirt on this blond bad boy of yours, right?"

It had been agreed that that was the plan.

As soon as the trio had settled in, getting familiar with the school, while trying to remain unnoticed for the most part, Flitwick had announced that he had booked a day off to take them shopping for suitable attire as well as weapons.

Unfortunately, he decided to cheerfully announce it to the High table at the top of his voice, during the evening meal, and the moment he mentioned `attire´, Buffy, Giles, Lorne and Hermione had choked on their pumpkin juice.

After all, Flitwick was the Professor known for the most eccentric wardrobe after the Head Master.

In the middle of the High Table, Dumbledore seemed to be taking a long time to dab at his mouth with a napkin, his eyes crinkled with amusement, as the quartet at the far end tried to look like they hadn´t just sprayed thick orange juice all over the table.

All of them had agreed it best that they warn Wesley, Gunn and Faith about the tiny teacher´s intentions.

It had reduced the dark Slayer to tears of hysterical laughter, when she was told that the teacher who wanted to take them clothes shopping liked codpieces and thought that Snape had a nice ass.

Faith had been hugely amused by Snape, when they had first met, on the evening of her arrival. Shortly after the pupils had returned to their dormitories, the trio were introduced to the full staff body.

He had glared at both Slayers when Buffy introduced him as `Snapey, sweetest guy you´re ever gonna meet´, which had made Faith smirk knowingly at him. When she had commented on his `salty goodness´ factor and `lovin´ them tall, dark and glarin´´, he had made an incoherent sound in his throat and practically fled.

After the giggle-fit had passed, Buffy had laughingly chastised the other Slayer, who - while working for redemption for her crimes as a rogue Slayer - was still as open and blunt as she ever had been.

Although things were still tense between them, they were getting along and that was definitely something. Buffy even came to see the group off, as they waited to Portkey out, to London.

"Don´t get in trouble," Buffy said sternly, standing on the lawn with Faith, while Flitwick was happily explaining the way a portkey worked to the fascinated Wesley and curious Gunn.

The other Slayer grinned at her, although it was hesitant. "You know me, B."

"Exactly," The blonde gave her a look, then smiled a little. "Take care, okay? And if you end up in a way creepy place called Knockturn Alley, don´t stay there any longer than you have to. Flitwick says that they have some real good weapons stores there, but it´s not the kinda place you wanna spend too much time in. Stay with him and don´t lose the guys there either."

"Bad place?"

"Worst."

"Gotcha."

Squeezing the brunette´s shoulder gratefully, Buffy didn´t miss the surprised look on Faith´s face at the gesture. "It´s good to have you back with us, Faith," she said honestly. "We need you here."

"Hey, always glad to be useful," Faith replied with bravado, although her hesitant smile became a little more confident. "You keep them safe till we get back, right? I mean, I do kinda wanna have something left to protect..."

"I always do."

"Miss... er... Faith!" Flitwick called, waving her towards them. "You had best join us down here! We shall be departing in a moment!"

Faith nodded. "I´ll see ya later, B, and I´ll try and pick up somethin´ nice for ya... a sword or somethin´..."

"Have fun."

The brunette jogged across the lawn to where Flitwick and the two other men were waiting, a plate held between them. Buffy stayed long enough to watch them vanish, then turned and walked back up to the castle.

***

"Ex-excuse me?"

Lazing on her belly on the bed, clad in a sheer satin nightshirt, the sheets rumpled around her, Glory looked up from the television - one of Luce´s treats to her - to see Luce´s wife standing in the doorway, glad in a green blouse and jet black skirt.

"Luce ain´t here, sweets," she said.

"I-I know," the woman replied. Hardly surprising that she was nervous, considering she had witnessed her son have his sanity sucked out of him only a week earlier by the very person lying on the bed. "I wanted to speak to you."

Glory´s brow wrinkled in confusion and she raised herself on her elbows to look at the woman. "To me?" she inquired. "You wanna speak... to me?"

"If... I mean, I don´t want to trouble you."

Sitting up fully, Glory gestured her in. "Sure, sweets! Always glad to have another girl to talk to!" she exclaimed cheerfully, smoothing a patch on the bed. "C´mon! You come on in and talk to Glory."

"You won´t... you know... drain my sanity?"

Glory made a dismissive gesture with a hand. "Not you, baby," she said. "That´s one thing that cutie pie husband of yours made me promise. No brain suckage on the wife, even if I think I´m gonna go crazy. Still cares for ya, somewhere deep down."

The wife approached the bed and hesitantly sat on the edge. "Why bother with him?"

"With Luce?"

"Yes. I mean, there are many more wizards who are more powerful... why him?"

Glory shrugged, leaning forward to tuck a loose strand of the woman´s hair behind her ear. Luce´s wife visibly trembled, which Glory ignored. "He came to me," she said. "Said he wanted to help... wanted to get back at the Slayer for somethin´."

"The Slayer humiliated Draco," the woman´s voice shook a little as she said it. "I don´t think Lucius appreciated it."

Glory studied the woman. "Still kinda upset about your boy, huh?"

"He was my son."

"Didn´t have too many brains, did he?" Glory couldn´t help snickering at the memory of the look on the boy´s face. "Told him not to piss off a Hell Goddess and the little bastard did it. Served him right."

"Had he known what you were..."

"I told him, didn´t I? I warned him not to bug me, because when I get cranky, I´m really not nice. No one gets more than that from me and he pushed his luck and all the thoughts in his pretty little head zig-zagged away."

"I suppose," the woman said, her eyes down.

Glory gazed at her, then grinned. "You know what I feel like doin´, puddin´?"

"Wh-what´s that?"

Bouncing off the bed, the Goddess pushed her unruly hair back from her face and stretched. "I feel like gettin´ all dressed up, goin´ for a nice walk, maybe killin´ a few bunnies, then leave Ben in the middle of the countryside in a skirt. He hates that!"

"Ben?" The wife didn´t lift her head. There was a bored note in her voice, but it was undercut a tone that suggested she was trying to hide her curiousity. "Is... is he that friend of yours?"

Glory apparently didn´t notice it, though and laughed. "Ben? A friend? Hon, if I had a choice, I woulda stomped on that bug a long time ago."

"Who is he?"

"He´s me, baby," The blonde Goddess strode over to a wardrobe and hauled it open, not noticing Narcissa´s head snap up, astonishment in her eyes. "I live in him, he lives in me, it´s no big deal..." A thoughtful look crossed Glory´s face. "It does sound kinda ick when I think about it."

"He´s in you? How? I mean... it sounds rather odd..."

Leaning around the wardrobe door, Glory´s eyes narrowed slightly. "Why all the questions, cutie?"

"I-I-I just don´t understand..." the witch stammered, fidgeting awkwardly with the hem of her dark green blouse. "I mean, you look female to me... beautifully female if I may say so..."

"You may say so, sweetie," the Goddess replied, beaming at the witch. "And the Ben deal. It´s a whole deal where he´s the human host of my essence. He´s meant to be in control, but the lil prick just ain´t strong enough."

"Oh. You... you must be very powerful."

Glory pulled a face. "I´m way more powerful in my home dimension," she replied, withdrawing two dresses from the closet and looking them up and down. "Luce is helpin´ me find my key, so I can get home."

"Your key?"

"Again with the questions, cutie patootie. You wanna make Glory cranky?"

Narcissa smiled weakly. "I-I just want to know if I can help in some way."

"Sure you can," Glory replied with a broad smile. Holding up the two dresses, she asked, "If I´m goin´ for a roam, whaddya think? Blue or red?"

***

"Good morning, everyone."

Buffy Summers swept into the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, her pupils already in their seats and eagerly awaiting their teacher. She was the youngest member of staff and had gained much popularity because of it.

"Good morning, Professor Summers!" the chorused words of the third years drew a chuckle from her.

Walking between the two rows of desks, she smiled around at the faces that greeted her, she reached her desk and swung up to sit on the edge of it, carefully avoiding the handful of apples that were being left for her on a regular basis.

As she had done, since she had received them, she was wearing heavy, midnight blue, outer robes over her muggle clothing. It was still bitterly cold compared to the weather she had been used to in California, so the thick robes had seemed a good idea, even though she still had no idea how she had come by them.

Wintery sunlight was streaming on over the class, all of whom were poised with their quills ready to start writing.

While she saw it as a light-hearted way to start a lesson, it was still known that she often would begin a class with an anecdote and they were being collected up by the pupils to share and compare in their common rooms.

The stories were of demons and monsters and things that they hadn´t believed in until Professor Summers had told them stories about such wild and exotic creatures, and her experiences with them.

Many of the pupils were still in awe of the fact that she had faced such creatures, although none of them - except the studious Leon Mzimba, a Gryffindor first year and Duncan Cameron, her sister's friend - were aware that she was actually the `Slayer´, who was mentioned only as a myth in their textbooks.

"All right," Crossing her legs, she laid her right hand on the upper knee, leaning back a little on her left hand. "I´m going to start today by telling you about my first encounter with a vampire today, as we´re just about ready to start that part of the coursework. This is an area of speciality of mine, so Mr. Giles won´t be required until we come to the spells that you can use to destroy them."

A hand rose at the back of the class.

"Yes, Mark?" This was another reason she was liked. She used the first name, as opposed to surnames as so many of the teachers did.

"Professor, we...someone in your fifth year class...they said...they told us that you brought a vampire with you," A few muted whispers and nods rippled down the rows of desks. "Is it true?"

Buffy´s lips lifted in a smile. "Well, since they´ve ruined that surprise for me, yes, I do have a vampire with me," Several of the teens gasped. "He´s been implanted with a behavioural..." A frown crossed her face, trying to recall the technical term. "He has a muggle machine inside his head that stops him from hurting humans."

"But it wouldn't work in Hogwarts!"

A puzzled look crossed Buffy's face. "That's true..." she murmured, half to herself, a wondering look on her face, but she shook it off quickly and smiled at the class. Spike hadn't harmed any of them.

He wouldn't.

He was one of their group and his loyalty during the Drusilla incident had proved it.

"So, any more questions before we get started?"

"Will you be bringing him here, Professor?" another pupil demanded eagerly.

The Slayer nodded. "Not right now, though," she added, raising a hand to lull the sounds of excitement that had echoed off the high ceiling. "Now, I´m going to tell you about the first time I saw a vampire. You have to know how to recognise them and what kills them."

"When will you be bringing him?"

Buffy glanced at the pig-tailed brunette in the front row. "He´ll be coming to the class after I´ve given you a pop-test to make sure you know everything I have to teach you about vampires, which means you actually have to pay attention in this class."

A few muffled groans went up.

"That´s the deal," she laughed, pushing herself off the desk and onto her feet. "You show me you actually listen to something I say and I bring a vicious, blood-sucking fiend into the classroom," A chuckle escaped her. "You know, in any normal school, that would be seen as a punishment...but anyway. On to the lesson."

Immediately an attentive silence fell, every pupil looking like they were on the edge of their seats as she began to speak.

"The first time I ever saw a vampire, I had no idea what I was doing..."

***

"I´m startin´ to see what B meant about this place," Faith muttered to the tiny wizard in front of her, as they made their way down narrow, twisting passageways.

Flitwick gave her a sympathetic nod, but kept his attention on the path, in case they miss the shop, which - like every other building in the alley - was grimy to the point of being unrecognisable, windows so dirty that they could barely be seen through.

They had just entered Knockturn Alley, specifically looking for an extremely high-class weapons shop, which was deep in the heart of the grim and grimy corner of the wizarding world.

Even though the buildings were the same height as those in Diagon Alley - where they had been forced to drag Wesley and Gunn away from every store window, the two men like kids in a toy store - the sunlight didn´t seem to reach into the alleys.

In fact, above Knockturn Alley, it was almost as if there was a dark cloud blocking the daylight out, the filth and grime making Faith shudder. Her arms crossed over her chest, she rubbed her upper arms uncomfortably.

"You okay, kid?" Gunn asked in an undertone.

"Yeah," she replied, glancing around. "This place... it´s wicked freaky."

"Gotta say I got the same vibe there," he agreed, placing a callused hand on her bony shoulder, which served the dual purpose of making her feel a little safer and him a little less likely to get lost.

Wesley was bringing up the rear, a tense expression on his face. He had never had any contact with the wizarding world before, although he knew of its existence, and - even though he was new to it - he knew Knockturn Alley was not a good place to be.

It was good, he realised, that they had acquired wizard-style clothing before entering, as they were receiving enough suspicious stares. Had they been in so-called muggle clothing, he had no doubts that they would have received a lot more than dirty looks.

"Ah! Here we are!"

It appeared that all of them heaved a collective sigh of relief as Flitwick gesture to a doorway and motioned them in, out of the gloomy street, into an even gloomier shop interior, lit only by a scant scatter of candles on the vacant spots on the walls.

"Holy shit..." Faith whispered in awe, staring around.

Every panelled wall of the shop, which looked a lot bigger inside than out, was lined with weapons of all shapes and forms, from cutlasses to crossbows, every one of which looked like it was in top class condition.

"How may I be of assistance?"

A tall, gangly man with a few wisps of black hair ringing a shining crown had just emerged through the curtain separating the back of the shop from the front, brushing his frayed, dark grey robes down.

He had a jovial face, with a broad smile, but his eyes were cold, shrewd.

"We are actually looking for a rather large quantity of weaponry," Flitwick piped up, causing the shop owner to lean forward and peer over the counter in confusion. "Is this all your stock?"

"This?" the keeper glanced around the walls. "These items are the samples of the most popular items that we have readily available. There´s a lot more where all this came from, as well as rarer items, at a price."

"We´re actually looking for some weapons that might have some kind of mystical heritage," Wesley added carefully. "We are... collectors of certain kinds of weaponry, you might say."

The cold amber eyes studied him. "I have a few artefacts," he replied, with a casual gesture to the back of the shop, behind the drapes. "Would you care to see some? Of course, only if you are actually interested in purchase..."

"Look, buddy, we said we wanted to buy and we weren´t joking," Faith said, a touch of irritation in her voice. "Now would be good."

"Very well," With a gesture from the man´s wand, a section of the counter opened up to allow them to pass through.

Entering the back room, Gunn swore under his breath, Faith nodding in agreement as they stared around the room that was more like an immense cavern, the roof soaring nearly twenty feet above them, filled to overflowing with arms.

"Now," Another flick of the wand brought an elaborate chest down to them, landing neatly on the floor at Wesley´s feet. "Perhaps this would be of interest to you?"

The chest opened to reveal a massive hammer, which was about four feet in length from head to the tip of the handle. Writing was engraved on the head and as Wesley knelt to study it, Faith peered over his shoulder.

"Nice hammer," she commented. "Why´s´it back here?"

"It´s a rare piece, allegedly a troll hammer, taken when the troll was vanquished," the keeper replied. "Most trolls tend to use clubs, but on rare occasions, there is a brighter one among the species, although that isn´t really saying much, and they use a hammer such as this."

"It is a genuine troll hammer, an old one," Wesley agreed, raising his eyes from the runes. "It belonged to someone called Olaf the Strong."

"He´d have to be strong to lift this item," the man said. "It weighs far too much for a normal..." His words trailed off into silence and Faith bent and - with one hand - hoisted the hammer up, weighing it in her palm.

"How is it?" Gunn asked, trying not to grin at the stunned shop keeper´s expression.

Tossing it from hand to hand, the Slayer experimentally swung it. "Not bad," she admitted. "Good balance... even weight..." Turning large brown eyes on Wesley, she asked, "Can I have the nice shiny hammer, Wes?"

"Troll hammers are reputed to be powerful in their own right, so I suppose..."

"Wicked cool! Thanks, Wes!" Faith replaced the hammer in the chest. "I´m gonna have a look around."

The former Watcher nodded, he, Flitwick and the shop keeper moving off to look at some cabinets that were lining the wall, filled with various ceremonial swords, while Faith and Gunn wandered around the immense room.

It was nearly twenty minutes later when Faith yelled, summoning the Watcher.

"What is it?" he asked, as he approached.

An elaborately-styled knife was held up in front of his face, less than a hand´s span from the tip of his nose, so suddenly that he jumped back a step and almost landed on top of Flitwick, who squeaked in surprise.

"Oh, sorry!" The Slayer winced.

Wesley made a dismissive gesture with a shaking hand, although the wash of sweat that had suddenly appeared on his face suggested he was far from all right, no doubt recalling the last time he had seen the Slayer, before their somewhat awkward reunion at Hogwarts.

On the run, determined to get herself killed, she had tortured the former Watcher to a point that he did honestly believe her to be past redemption, only to see her break down in tears in a mutual vampire acquaintance´s arms a short while later.

Needless to say, the sight of her with any sharp implements near his face was enough to make him a little jumpy.

"I gotta say I´m likin´ this one," she said turning the knife over in her hand, running her fingertips along the blade. "It´s got good weight... nice feel to it... extension of the arm kinda thing... wicked beautiful too..."

Although not exactly one to admire weapons for their appearances, Wesley had to admit that the dagger was exquisitely made.

The ornately-sculpted handle seemed to wrap around the girl´s hand and wrist and it almost looked like the dagger was growing around the hand of the owner, delicate and deceptively fragile to look at.

Subtly, she also lifted up the tag which had `Reserved´ printed on it.

"May I?"

Faith handed him the blade and he studied it carefully, spotting very faintly engraved script running down the blade. "Ah! Ah!" he exclaimed excitedly, turning the blade into the light and nodding.

"Good `ah´ or bad...?" Faith inquired.

"That would be a good one," Gunn answered, grinning a little. "If it was bad, he woulda said `Oh... oh... oh dear...´."

"He still does that, huh?"

"All the time."

"You´re quite amusing," Wesley snorted. "I don´t think." Turning back to face them, he gestured to the writing on the blade. "This is exactly what we´ve been looking for," he said, his back to the shopkeeper, so the man couldn´t see the expression on his face. "It´s a sacrificial knife... often used in blood-letting rituals."

Faith and Gunn exchanged looks. Behind Wesley, Flitwick was doing his best to distract the shopkeeper, so they could look over the weapon.

"Blood-letting... as in the kind we´re lookin´ at?" Gunn asked.

"Precisely!"

Taking the blade back from Wesley, Faith studied it. "And why," she rhetorised. "Do you think someone would want an itty bitty thing like this? Could it be to... perform a blood-letting ritual thing?"

Wesley´s grim expression said it all.

"Hey! Buddy!" Waving the shopkeeper over, Faith held up the knife. "I want this."

"Ah! I´m afraid that particular weapon is not for sale."

Glancing at Wesley out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod, as if he had expected that response. "Why not?" she asked. "Whose gonna buy it? I got money and I can bet I can top their price."

"I-I-I´m afraid I can´t say."

Faith spun the knife in her hand in a way that made it more than obvious that she was familiar with such a weapon. "Can´t?" she asked. "Or won´t?"

"It´s an associate, but I´m afraid we have a strict customer confidentiality clause..."

"Wes, tell the nice man I want the knife," she said calmly, holding the blade close in front of her eyes. "I don´t care if someone else wants it. I want the pretty knife and I wanna know who else wanted it. Tell him what I do to people who don´t tell me what I wanna know."

"Faith..."

"Wes, you know what I can do with sharp things..."

Wesley exhaled a breath. "I would tell her, if I were you."

"You can´t do anything to me," the shopkeeper said, although the squeak in his voice made it clear that he was a mite scared. His bald spot was gleaming with sweat by the magical balls of light hovering like lamps by the ceiling.

"Wrong thing to say, buddy," Gunn winced, stepping backwards. "This little lady just got busted outta jail..."

Faith grinned and waggled her fingers at him.

"Wh-what for?"

"Usin´ a knife like this," she replied. She appeared confident, but there was a tone in her voice that said - to her three companions - she was far from calm. "Didn´t think that murder was that big a deal, really... but this real annoyin´ guy told me I couldn´t do anything to him..."

The shopkeeper back-stepped again, white in the face.

Faith´s smile could have been described as homicidal. "I´ll ask you nicely, again and then, I might start gettin´ cranky... who wanted this knife and what were they gonna use it for?"

***

His breath escaping in puffs of condensation, Hagrid heaved the sledge heaped with logs towards the castle. He knew he could have asked a teacher to use their wand, but he preferred it this way, making himself useful.

In the same way, back outside the cabin, Xander was chopping more wood the muggle way. He was distracting himself, while his girlfriend, Cordelia, was helping the demon Divination teacher for lessons on what visions really were.

Both of them liked to think they were doing something helpful in some small and non-magical way.

The house elves also preferred having him in particular bring the logs to their hidden store-pile, near the concealed entrance to the passages they used, which were spread through the whole school.

The ground was still icy, the powdery coating of frost crunching beneath his enormous black boots as he plodded towards the end of the building, where he knew that a house elf would be waiting.

They always knew when he would arrive.

Just as they always knew to have a large tankard of mulled mead to warm him up, before he headed back off across the grounds.

After he had made this delivery of the wood for the class and common room fires, he still had to do a check of the boundaries of the dark forest, because there had been whispers once again, via Aragog, that something was on the move there. Something that had been there for some time, but that was not native to the forest.

And, when Aragog made certain that he, Hagrid, knew about something, it was usually something dark.

It made the giant uneasy.

After all, the new Professor, Professor Summers, had arrived just when the whispers had started, and he couldn´t help thinking that she might have been brought is as a defence against them, even though she didn´t look strong enough to hit a flea.

However, when he had broached that subject with Professor Dumbledore, the last time Aragog had brought word to him, he had merely received a knowing, twinkling-eyed smile from the Head Master, as he was told that looks can be deceiving.

He was still grateful that he had his crossbow by his side, should he need it, though, comfortably swinging against his leg with every step that he took. A quiver of bolts were strapped to it, just in case.

Heaving the sled around the corner of the back of the castle, he smiled beneath his bear at the sight of Dobby standing at the hidden doorway, clad in a maroon sweater, a dark red tea-cosy pulled securely over his large, bat-like ears, his long, pencil-like nose red from the cold.

He was standing beside an oddly-coloured piece of wall, which stood as tall as he did, and probably the same width as it was in height, studying the bricks out of large, green, tennis-ball shaped eyes.

"Hullo, Dobby."

"Mr Hagrid sir!" He spun around in surprise and squeaked enthusiastically, "You is a little bit later than Dobby is expecting! But Dobby isn´t minding! Dobby is thinking that it is looking beautifully out here today!"

He reached out to the red brick wall beside him, which looked strangely out of place against the creamy stone of the rest of the wall. Tapping the middle brick twice, them running his fingers in a weaving pattern over the square of bricks, he stepped aside as the block of bricks turned into a square, copper hatch with a large, round handle in the middle of it.

"Thanks, Dobby," Hagrid grinned down at the house elf, who bowed appreciatively at the giant´s gratitude, and hauled the hatch open to reveal the chute, down which he started heaving the large blocks of wood, easily.

"If Dobby may ask, would you be liking a drink, Mr. Hagrid, sir?"

"If ye´ve got one, that would be crackin´, Dobby."

Again, the elf bowed. "Right away, Mr Hagrid sir!"

Hagrid was still lugging chunks of wood into the chute, when he heard a growl from a distance, his head coming up instantly, eyes flicking around. After all, if there was a dangerous creature anywhere hereabouts, he wanted one!

His beetle-black gaze turned towards the Dark Forest and he uttered a loud and very coarse word, as he saw two large, hairy creatures erupting from the bushes, running towards the school at full speed on all-fours.

"Mr Hagrid, Sir..." Dobby emerged, only to see Hagrid running as quickly as he could towards the main halls of the school, leaving the house elf standing on the step with a large mug of mead in his hands and a confused look on his face.

***

"Good job, girl!"

Faith directed a shaky smile up at Gunn, who had just sat down next to her, a plate stacked with steaming food in his hands. "Next time we play good cop bad cop, someone else has gotta play bad cop," she said, twisting her hands together. "I-I can´t do that again."

The quartet were sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, in one of the booths in a corner, for some privacy, as they ate before returning to the school.

"You did remarkably well," Wesley added, reaching over the table and enclosing her icy hands with one of his. "I know you wished to put that element of your life behind you, but you helped us find information that might have otherwise eluded us."

"Yeah," Faith stared at her plate of stew, poking at a lump of carrot with her fork, a serious expression on her thin face. "And I´m sure Dawnie´s gonna be real pleased that we know when Glory and that blond son of a bitch are plannin´ on killin´ her."

Exhaling, Wesley squeezed her fingers again. "Faith, you have provided us with a time frame in which we can counteract their plans. Without your aid, we would be none the wiser."

"He´s right!" Flitwick squeaked. "We have been on our guard for months and now, we at least know when it will all be over by."

"I´m not gonna let them hurt Dawnie, as long as I can help it," the dark-haired Slayer said with grim determination, her increasing protectiveness for Buffy´s younger sister increasing by the day.

While she had not been under the spell that had introduced Dawn into the lives of her former friends, as soon as she came in contact with the teenager, memories started to develop rapidly, the spell placed by the monks a powerful one.

Faith had fitted in with Dawn´s memories, so it was simply a case of the spell mixing and matching memories, until they both matched up and Faith was, once more, like a second big sister to the girl.

"I´m sure Professor Summers will be glad of all of your assistance," Flitwick said brightly, offering a bag of jelly babies around. He had cajoled Wesley into leaving The Leaky Cauldron and buying some muggle sweets in a nearby shop.

Dumbledore was, after all, partial to them, and they could hardly go near muggle London without taking something back for him.

The suggestion of penis-shaped chocolates from Anya had been swept aside and a large bag of gummi bears were safely nestled in among the miniaturised armoury that they had tucked into a small box under the table.

"Think we got enough weapons, then?" Faith asked, accepting a jelly baby and popping it in her mouth, before returning her attention to the pile of savoury food in front of her.

"Lemme think about that one," Gunn said dryly. "You got four crossbows, one of `em King-size, that big old troll hammer thing, the knife you got so attached to, three normal swords, two magical swords, six axes... did I forget anything?"

Chewing a mouthful of meat and swallowing, Faith pointed her fork at him and added, "You forgot the canon."

Snapping his fingers, Gunn tutted. "Damn," he sighed. "Always forget the canon."

Faith rolled her eyes, but couldn´t help grinning.

***

"Usually the skin is very hard, so if you´re going to stake..."

Buffy´s lesson had been holding the attention of the class, all eyes flicking from her to the notes that were being made, until she stopped pacing across the front of the class, her eyes scanning around the room.

Slayer sense was tingling, which wasn´t a good thing.

"Prof..."

She raised her hand, silencing a question from one of the boys. Her brow creased, as she looked around the walls and windows of the room, then slowly lifted her gaze to the over-looking balcony, which none of the pupils were aware of.

It was there so that the Head Master could observe the pupils, without being seen, and without the pupils or teacher becoming uncomfortable.

Her lips parting in bewilderment, she stared up at the darkness behind the trellis that concealed the balcony, a pair of glittering eyes staring back at her, a heartbeat before something massive, black and hairy smashed through the elaborately carved trellis, sending stone showering all over the class, who shrieked as one.

"Under your desks! Everyone! NOW!" Buffy yelled, as the massive, furry creature landed heavily on the floor, rolling onto all fours, glittering black and red eyes fixed on the Slayer.

Tossing her long robes off, she flipped back over the desk, landing a kick on the creature´s face as it charged her. Jerking her drawer out, she grabbed a silvery sword, which had been a starting gift from Dumbledore, the blade about the same length from her shoulder to fingertips, the whole thing - handle included - crafted from a single solid piece of steel, shaped like a scimitar.

Swinging the drawer up under her assailant´s chin, smashing the beast´s head up with it and knocking it back several paces, the wood exploding, she swung the blade, the sheath sliding off, as she took up a defensive stance.

Jumping up onto the desk, she managed to duck another charge from the demon-like creature, grappling and crashing to the stone floor with it, her body fully on top of it, its claws lashing out at her.

"Just what I need!" she moaned, bringing a hefty book down on its head off one of the closest shelves. "A big bad dog to ruin the one class that´s going as planned..."

Buffy, while avoiding each swing of its huge paws, was trying to remember if she had seen anything like this before. The only thing that came close was a werewolf or a Hellhound and this thing was WAY bigger than either of those creatures.

Tossed across the room when the beast bucked up, the Slayer smashed - head first - into one of the shelves of books, the wood cracking like kindling as she dropped to the floor, books cascading around her.

"Professor!" one of the girls shrieked, the huge were-thing´s head swinging towards the pupil.

Scrambling to her feet, a hand rising to her face to touch the trail of blood that was trailing ticklishly from down one nostril, Buffy´s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Okay, fuzzy," she growled. "Now I´m mad."

Before the massive were-creature could reach the girl who had screamed out, it was tackled from behind and brought tumbling to the ground, Buffy´s hand grabbing its filthy matt of black-brown fur on the top of it´s skull and smashing its head against the floor.

It tossed her again, leaping around faster than she could scramble out of reach, and pinned her down on the floor, her right hand, the one holding onto the sword, pinned beneath a hairy limb.

The...thing´s long, wolf-like muzzle snapped at her, ragged, sharp teeth millimetres from her face, its breath smelling of rotting blood and decay. She could see shards of bone and scraps of blackened food caught between its fangs.

Thick ropes of stinking, yellowish drool splattering on her face, making her gag, her free hand gripping its throat, preventing it from ripping her face to shreds. Crushing a leg up, between her and it, she flexed the leg and sent the thing rolling.

The creature bellowed in fury and pain, as she was on her feet and landed on it´s back again, managing to lock an arm around it´s throat, jerking its head up with the intention of snapping it´s neck.

That was when she heard a scream of terror from the back of the class and her head snapped around to see another one of the creatures, much larger than the one she was battling and it was advancing on her students.

The beast beneath her made the most of her moment of distraction, jerking around and slashing at her upper arm with one clawed paw, ripping through the sleeve of her black sweater and making her hiss in pain.

It didn´t manage to dislodge her though.

Keeping a grip on it, she managed to twist her knife in her hand, under the beast´s thick throat, and - with all the force she could muster - slammed her weight down on the creature´s back, her knife thrusting up, through its throat, the tip almost striking her own chest as it emerged from the back of the beast´s neck.

Black blood sprayed over her hands and across the floor, but she didn´t waste time worrying about that as the attacker went limp and she scrambled to her feet in time to launch herself at the second one.

Landing fully on its back, one arm tight around its neck, she used what little weight she had to bring it crashing backwards to the floor, which unfortunately meant that it smashed down on her with its full weight.

"Lucian!" her voice was hoarse, but audible, the boy closest the door jerking upright from beneath the desk. "Get out! Get someone else! Another teacher! The rest of you, run! Get out! Now!"

With a jerk of her body, as the boy obeyed and fled, she sent the thing tumbling, but it rolled with the momentum, a curse of pain escaping the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor as its claws tore into her back.

Several pupils lingered by the door, gaping in awe, as she kicked the huge thing across the room, shattering a window with it's back, but too big to fall through the frame. She was strong. No normal person could be that strong...

Retrieving her blade from the other demon-thing rapidly, while the beast tried to regain its footing, the teacher flashed a frantic look towards the doorway, where the pupils were frozen, staring.

"What are you waiting for?" she bellowed. "RUN!"

***

Snape´s expression was black when the door of the dungeon crashed open, one of the third year Hufflepuff´s running into the room, where he was teaching first years, without as much as a by-your-leave.

The boy´s frantic eyes darted around the dimly-lit classroom, illuminated only by the pale green torches on the brackets on the black walls and the flickering flames beneath the cauldrons.

"Professor Snape?" he called out, breathless.

"Brimstone, what is the meaning of this?" Emerging from the darkness at the back of the room, he demanded, his voice an ugly snarl.

Panting, his face white and cast with a green hue from the torches, Lucian Brimstone pointed towards the door. "You´re closest, Sir...two monsters...Defence Against Dark Arts... Professor...fighting them...needs help..."

It took Snape a moment to register the words and by the time he understood, he was already running up the flight of stone stairs from the dungeon, throwing off his heavy outer robe, which kept tangling around his legs.

The Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom was three corridors away and two flights up from the dungeons, but he reached it in record time, passing the group of terrified pupils gathered together in the halls and stairs on his way.

Throwing the door open, his wand in hand, he felt the colour rush from his face at the sight of the tiny blonde Professor battling a roaring, hairy creature almost as large as, if not larger than Hagrid, which was rearing up on it´s hind legs.

Momentarily stunned, he watched her hefting a desk, as if it weighed nothing more than a twig, and hurling it halfway across the room at the beast, which lunged towards her, batting the desk aside, the force of it´s blow shattering the ancient wood.

If it struck her, it would crush her instantly...

His wand snapped up and he yelled out "Impedimenta!"

The thing froze and the Slayer slammed a long, broad blade up into its chest cavity, black ichor gushing down her upraised arms. A rattling screech, like the sound of a thousand nails scraping on a blackboard, escaped the creature's throat. Yanking the blade free, she took a shaky step backwards as the...thing - there was no other word for it - crumpled at her feet.

Snape stared around the classroom in shock. It looked like a battle had taken place, several of the desks shattered, a few of the chairs too. One of the bookshelves lay in splinters, books and sheets of parchment scattered everywhere, black fluid staining the walls and floor.

It took him a moment to get over the destruction and look at the single figure left standing in the chaos, swaying on her feet.

"Summers?"

Hazel eyes rose to him. There was blood on her face, tricking from her nose, one of her eyes and the right side of her face swollen. Her black trousers were soaked with the oil-like substance that served as the creature´s blood, her robes in tatters.

One hand was resting on the desk beside her, stabilising her, the other still loosely gripping the blade, her arms stained to the elbow with the same black goo, which was dripping from the blade and her hand in strands.

"Snapey..." her voice was hoarse. "Thanks."

Picking his way across the demolition sight, he stopped beside her, letting her use his arm as leverage to bring herself down to lean on the edge of the desk. She really did look like she was about to fall over.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" he asked, looking down at the two enormous bodies that were still oozing ichor all over the floor, amazed that she had managed to kill one, let alone both of them.

"Nope...they...they're bigger..." He glanced down at her, noticing that she was still staring at the things as well, her long-bladed knife slipping from her fingers and clattering on the stone floor. "I don´t like `em."

Something warm and wet brushed against the hand that was supporting her arm and he released his hold on her for a moment, bringing his hand around in front of him. It was stained red, blood glistening in the sunlight.

"Summers..." He stared at her. "You´re bleeding."

She looked at his hand, the corners of her lips rising, although she looked whiter than she had a moment before. "Yeah. Scratched me across the back and arms," She shrugged, walking a little way around the desk, to look down at the first beast she had killed. "No biggie."

"No...biggie...?"

Had it been any other witch, they would probably have fainted at the sight of their own blood, not to mention screaming in pain over wounds that would release so much blood in one go.

"Dammit, Summers..." He tried to make himself to yell at her, but could find no words, staring at the little blonde, unable to believe that she had fought the two huge beasts on the floor, was bleeding and badly wounded and yet, still remained the same, annoying little trollop. "Dammit!"

"I heal fast, Snapey," she said by way of explanation, then looked at him with an amused expression on her bloody face. "And my God! Snapey! Just look at you...you must feel almost naked..."

"Pardon?" He blinked, distracted from his irritation at her being so...her by, oh the surprise, the irritation of her being so very...her!

"Your robes," she said, her eyes twinkling at him, reminding him that - in order to save her bony hide - he had stripped off his outer robes, leaving him clad in his trousers, waistcoat and high-necked, uniform shirt, while running up the corridors, his lips tightening into a line.

"Miss Summers..."

"I know, I know, infuriating, annoying, agitating, blah, bl..." She seemed to flinch, her hand on the desk sliding a little on the wood. "Uh...Snapey..." Her voice sounded oddly shaky, as if worried. "When...when did it...get dark?"

"It is still daylight, Summers," he said with a sigh.

She turned in the direction of his voice, her expression startling him. He had never seen so much fear in one person´s face. "No...not it isn´t..." she whispered, reaching out towards him blindly with her other hand. "It´s dark...Snapey, its dark..."

"Summers?"

"Snapey..." She swayed dizzily on her feet, looking as if she was trying to take a step towards him, but never made it. Her eyes rolled up, a shudder rocketing through her body, and she started to fall.

Snape leapt over the fallen demon-beast in time to catch her before she hit the floor, her body boneless and limp in his arms.

Hissing a curse under his breath, he yanked up her torn sleeves, revealing her wounds to him, thick rimes of black lining the claw-marks that striped her upper arms and were no doubt matched by the ones across her back.

"Toxic..." he whispered in shock, startled by just how ugly and deep the wounds were. She had shrugged them off as if they were mere papercuts, when they had laid bare bone and muscle, blood still rippling from them.

Quickly scooping the unconscious Slayer up in his arms, he ran back towards the half-open door of the classroom. She was as light as a feather, so thin and fragile against his chest.

Yanking it open, he found himself face-to-face with Dumbledore, backed by Hagrid with his crossbow, which Snape felt like saying was a bit redundant now.

The Head Master took one look at the unconscious Professor and stepped aside quickly, his expression serious. "Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you," he said under his breath and Snape nodded.

Around them, the pupils - horrified looks on their faces at the sight of their torn-up Professor - parted before the Potions Master in an uncanny imitation of the Red Sea before Moses, and he broke into a run, the unconscious body of the blonde teacher held securely against his chest.