Slytherin

Sunday passed much as the previous day, Stephen, Harry and Dumbledore apparated to the Phoenix library for a full day of spell research and mastery. The Headmaster continued working with Stephen on Occlumency, but Harry politely declined and continued on his spellwork.

During supper that evening, Stephen was happily savoring his meal when an owl landed right next to his plate of steak and kidney pie. He relieved the ruffled looking Barn owl of its burden and it flew away with a hoot of thanks after he poured some water in a shallow desert bowl for it.

The letter had the seal of the Ministry of Magic and Stephen set down it as if it had burnt him. He had a terrible suspicion of what it may be about. For he still felt the terrible void in his heart, where Hugh and Anthony had resided, very acutely.

"Something wrong?" asked Harry worriedly; he glanced at the letter while sprinkling some salt on his mash potatoes.

"I know what news it brings. I'll rather finish eating first," stated Stephen darkly. Harry sensed and deduced enough to have a suspicion of what it was, and let his curiosity go.

Stephen plucked up his heart and his courage and ripped the letter open.

Dear Mr. Stephen Moon

Please find enclosed a muggle letter that has been addressed to you at your school.

Best wishes,

Amelia Bones

Magical Law Enforcement

Stephen now found a letter with the Royal Seal of the United Kingdom and bearing the emblem of Her Majesty's Manchester Orphanage. The letter was obviously neatly printed on thin white paper.

Dear Mr. Stephen Moon

It is our sad duty to invite you to the funerals of Hugh Trescothick and Anthony

Appelby. It is to be held on 26^th of August. The Church service and internment to take place at Manchester Cathedral at 14:00.

A light luncheon and tea will be provided afterwards.

Stephen was surprised to find while he was staring at the neatly printed script, that two raindrops had fallen on the letter he was holding. It was only when he felt the wetness under his eyes that he realized that it was the silent tears that had sprung from his eyes.

He furiously wiped his face and passed the letter without a word to Professor Dumbledore. He did not trust himself to speak at the moment.

The Headmaster adjusted his half-moon glasses and read the letter with a curious glance to Stephen. He stood from his chair after he examined it fully and squeezed Stephen's shoulder in sympathy.

"I shall get you safe apparition coordinates," the old wizard smiled with sadness in his eyes and headed out of the Great Hall.

"How has it all come to this Harry?"

Stephen covered his face with his hands.

"What do you mean?" frowned Harry.

"I mean Voldemort, Death Eaters, pure-blood, and everything that goes with it. He destroys the very world he hopes to dominate," answered Stephen wearily.

"Even Voldemort had a mother and father, he was human. How he became what he is today and why, I can't honestly answer. Professor Dumbledore should have a fair idea though," Harry sighed.

"That son-of-a-bitch is responsible..." Stephen stopped suddenly and chuckled humorlessly, "listen to me, commiserating and complaining about how Voldemort has robbed me of a normal life...to you."

"It all comes back to him," agreed Harry, "but he is not the only evil in the world."

"Not by a long shot," nodded Stephen, "but he has the greatest impact and influence on our society."

"Reminds me of what Mr. Ollivander told me when I got my wand, he said: 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things...terrible yes...but great," stated Harry darkly.

It was at this moment that another owl alighted, and started buzzing around Stephen's head like a fly. Stephen noted that it had a letter but the elf owl did not want to relax. He made a few feeble attempts to grab it, but it was too fast.

"It's my letter damn it, give here!" exclaimed a flushed, hot-faced Stephen.

"Pig, get down here!" ordered Harry and surprisingly enough, it worked. The little fuzz ball landed with a thump on the table.

"Know this owl?" asked Stephen.

"It's Ron's," replied Harry. It made sense; Ginny would use it to give her reply. Harry glanced curiously at Stephen. He tore open the letter and noted it was with ink that changed colors every few moments.

Dear Stephen,

You don't know what a relief your letter was. I was dreading its reply. But like you said, 'I don't bite.'

Not much happening here, I finished all my summer homework and read through all my fifth-year books (yes, I have that much time on my hands). I am positively dreading this year. According to Ron the OWL year was like hell set on extra crispy.

Oh, just a word of warning, I feel it's my duty to point out to any cute guy I'm going out with, that my brothers will be a pain in the ass. Expect to fend off curses and hexes and booby trapped sweets on a regular basis.

See you hopefully very soon,

Ginny

Stephen could not help the bubble of laughter that sprang from his mouth. Going from sad and morbid to happy and carefree, from just a little letter. The fact that it came from a girl like Ginny must have been a big reason for that.

The reference to her brothers was intended as a joke, but Stephen knew full well to also take the warning seriously. For a moment, a vision of wands at dawn clouded his mind. He was standing back to back with a sour-faced Ron Weasley. Both wands were held raised and ready, and Professor Dumbledore looked solemnly at a pocket watch and started counting down their steps apart.

The absurdity of the thought of Professor Dumbledore actually refereeing a muggle type duel, which should be fought with pistols, forced another laugh out of Stephen. Another thing was that Ron Weasley was well known as a person who despised anything to do with Slytherin. Stephen knew that a confrontation was likely.

The Weasley Twins worried him though; their antics were the stuff of Hogwarts legend, which would be sealed into the school's consciousness forever. And judging by the way their shop was advertised in the Daily Prophet, they were cooking up a storm. Getting on their bad side would guarantee a very painful public prank.

*

The Monday, Professor Flitwick asked the Headmaster if he could train the two young students personally for the day. Dumbledore agreed, stating he would've not joined them anyway, as he had a lot of work to do for the school.

It was well known that the diminutive Professor was a dueling champion on International level during his youth. Both he and Harry dueled with Flitwick for half an hour each, so he could gauge their level of competence.

"Hmmm, I'd say you're both on Post-Hogwarts level, possibly you could defeat first year Auror apprentices," he frowned thoughtfully, "well then, lets get you two cracking," bubbled the overenthusiastic Professor.

"I'm going to teach you multiple opponents dueling, Death Eaters are not sporting about it if they want you dead, if they see you're too good, they'll flood you in numbers. They've no honor. There is only one rule they abide by: there are no rules," explained Professor Flitwick, "I want both of you to attack me at the same time."

Stephen and Harry complied; only to be on the floor and in full body binds not a minute later. Professor Flitwick had ably dodged Harry's Ice curse and blocked Stephen's Transfiguration spell, where he hoped to turn the Professor into a guinea pig. Professor Flitwick responded with a deluge of seemingly minor spells on both students, their net effect was nonetheless quite devastating. Stephen had only the opportunity to deflect a single spell, but they were coming in too fast. The Professor removed all his spells and allowed them to stand.

"Well done," crooned the Professor.

"Well done? You wiped the floor with us," exclaimed Stephen.

"Yeah!" supported Harry.

"Now, now," Flitwick temporized, "I am a couple of decades younger than Professor Dumbledore, you certainly can't expect to easily defeat me, and I taught both your Great Grandfathers." Harry and Stephen looked at each other dubiously.

"Then why are you praising us?" asked Harry.

"Well let's see Stephen, your attempt to Transfigure me was quite skillful and powerful, and a total surprise, most people never think that Transfiguration can be useful in a duel, they stick to curses, hexes, jinxes and charms. The problem is though the spell is very complex and as such takes time to perform, you have to think about it, but a duel is a mostly instinctual affair. It is also very easy to block," the Professor frowned at Stephen for a moment as if debating with himself, and then seeming came to a decision.

"Harry, I must say I haven't seen that curse thrown in over sixty years, quite obscure, and you hoped it would stump me in finding a means to deflect it. Anybody else would've been changed into a frozen version of themselves for about six seconds. Well done though nevertheless, it was a challenge."

"I've never seen somebody cast spells that fast," stated Harry.

"Yes, it takes a fair amount of concentration and lots of experience under your belt to be able to do it. I threw a total of nine spells at you both, all of which does not take much concentration to perform at my level. But before I teach you the technique for that I want to give you multiple opponent scenarios to practice on your own later," explained the Professor.

For two hours they went through tactics drills, where the number of opponents both students faced varied from two to even five at a time. Flitwick used conjured dummy's to assist and showed them various configurations for the spacing and positioning of opponents and emphasized their reliance on instinct.

Stephen knew drills such as these quite well, since he had trained similar techniques with his Ninjitsu sensei. The principals were much the same, if you were surrounded, act quick and decisively on your easiest opponent, and escape from the circle, using the disabled opponent as a shield to cover you. Stephen knew how to fight this way hand-to-hand, the result was he picked up doing this in a magical duel very fast.

Rapid-fire spell casting, as Stephen had come to think of it was every bit as difficult as Professor Flitwick indicated. Both students could only get two spells off in a row, before they had to pause significantly. The strain was not so much magical, but mental. Since you had to focus your mind on the spell you were doing, the moment Stephen did anything close to three spells it seemed as if his mind had stuck a gear or something.

"Thanks for the morning boys," chirped Professor Flitwick, "it was fun!"

Stephen couldn't help but smile; Flitwick was absolutely the most cheerful person on the planet. If he ever became morbid and self-pitying, you knew the world had ended, because that is the only thing it seemed that would dispirit the tiny Professor. Stephen headed off to lunch with a Harry who seemed to be in another dimension of thought.

They were well into the their respective lunches in the Great Hall when Madam Pomfrey bustled in with a great look of disapproval on her features. Her lips were drawn into a razor thin line. She approached both students and Stephen gulped down his morsel of chicken rather nervously. Her white matron robes were billowing ominously behind in her, Professor Snape would've been proud.

"Potter, Moon, you will both report to the Hospital Wing after lunch immediately. Understood?" she snapped. Her tone startled Stephen rather badly. Stephen glanced at Professor Snape, who was eating to his right and found almost an evil smile on his surly Head of House.

"Yes, Madam. May I ask what we will be doing there?" asked Harry cautiously.

"The Headmaster has prevailed upon me to teach you both in the afternoon's for the rest of the week, some basic Healing magic," she stated stiffly.

"Madam, it seems as if you disapprove, can you tell me why?" asked Stephen, with as much respect thrown into his voice as he could muster.

"Healing magic is not to be dallied with, there are no second tries or chances. Your experience with that lilac-robed-idiot-with-a-smile in your Second year Mr. Potter is a good demonstration of what happens if you get it wrong," she stated vehemently. Snape smirked at Harry, but the boy ignored it. Harry for his part winced at the reminder where he lost all the bones in his broken arm, obtained during a Quidditch match against Slytherin. Professor Lockhart attempted to heal his arm, only to get it totally wrong in front of the entire school.

"But Madam, you're not training us to be Healers. Wouldn't it be good if say we stabilized the person in the field first before getting himher to you or St. Mungo's?" asked Stephen with a frown. The Nurse seemed shocked at his thoughtful question. In truth, anyone who watches ER would know that.

"Why...yes...so...be there promptly after your lunch," she stammered shaking her head and bustling out of the Hall.

"Congratulations, Mr. Moon. You are the first student I have seen that could make Madam Pomfrey pause in one of her rants," drawled Snape.

*

Stephen stood on the small sloping hill; looking around him he saw seemingly endless rows of tombstones, lush green grass surrounded the graves and at places the odd tree dotted the landscape of Manchester Cathedral cemetery. There was even the odd tomb, for the very rich families no doubt. Stephen had visited his parents tomb only twice in his life and none of them compared to the little tombs here. For twenty generations the Moon's have been buried in Fraserburgh Wizard Cemetery, and Stephen did not care one bit for visiting it.

He let his eyes settle on the small gaggle of people; standing about three rows down from him around two freshly dug and prepared graves. The caskets of his two adopted brothers were already mounted on the rope mechanism that would lower them into their graves. All his other brothers from the Orphanage were there, all seven of them, and Supervisor Gregory. The Priest was standing at the head of the two graves and was due to begin.

Stephen pulled his black cloak around him and flopped his hood up, shielding his face and moved to stand right behind Gregory. The Priest began the final rite of burial.

"We are gathered here today to commend the bodies of our brothers Hugh Trescothick and Anthony Appleby..." started the Priest and Stephen tuned him out, his heart, which was wrenched in two, and the loss of Hugh and Anthony came back to him in full force. He bowed his head and silently wept, eventually hearing the Priest: "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, from the ground we came and unto it we must all eventually return."

Everyone present now took a handful of soil from adjoining heaps and dropped it on to the now lowered caskets. One by one they all left and walked back to the church. Only Gregory remained and stood stock still staring at the graves. Stephen knew what he was going through, all of them considered the Supervisor as a modified father figure. He did not encourage that view but nor did he stop them from adopting him as such. Stephen knew Gregory since he was first transferred to the Orphanage when he was six years old and he for certain did consider Gregory his father.

Stephen pulled out his wand and removed the Animaversio Curse from himself that prevented anyone from noticing him and pulled down his hood.

"Hello Sir," greeted Stephen somberly. Gregory whirled in fright and his eyes widened at the sight.

"Bloody hell, lad, where you appear from?" asked Gregory.

"I was behind you Sir, I was also in the service, came in late and sat in the back," explained Stephen. Gregory frowned and turned to the graves again.

"Your school came and picked you up at the hospital did they?"

"Yes Sir," Stephen was briefed on the cover story the Ministry had put in place by Dumbledore quite extensively.

"Lad, in the orphanages and foster homes I have seen many tragedies, families broken, divorce, suicide, you name it, but this is the worst," Gregory clenched and unclenched his fists, "to have both parents die and the child to live, only for the child to die a hair's breadth from adulthood."

"To have died so young is terrible for those who are left behind, but I know that Hugh and Anthony are happy where they are now, my Headmaster calls death merely the next great adventure," replied Stephen. Gregory sighed and even laughed a bit.

"Aye, lad, that it is," stated Gregory and walked over and took two handfuls of dirt and dropped them in the graves, he then walked over and enfolded Stephen in a strong hug.

"I'll see you, when I see you, my door is always open to you, no matter what. Remember that, my son," Stephen felt his heart clench in his throat and he grabbed on to Gregory, not letting go as fresh sobs burst forth, all the emotions he had put off for the last odd month coming to the fore.

Stephen cried himself out and let go of Gregory, and ever since he could think and reason, he had wanted say the following words to someone.

"Goodbye...father," his voice cracked and now he noticed that Gregory's eyes were also brimmed red and in tears. It would be a long time before they saw each other again.

The Supervisor, his unofficial father, turned and walked solemnly away from the graves of two of his children, while Stephen remained and waited. He wanted to perform a Curse on the graves, should anyone ever be stupid enough to desecrate the graves. But that would prove impossible at the moment. For a group of four workers appeared to shift the masses of dirt into the graves. Stephen retuned to the highest point in the cemetery to wait for them to finish. It was very late in the afternoon and the sun was turning red as its rays had to travel through more and more atmosphere to reach his eyes.

The cemetery workers were using a small bulldozer and digging machine that could squirt easily along the walking paths of the cemetery. Stephen heard its engine start and shift into gear, only for it to seize abruptly before it had barely even touched the dirt. The driver cursed colorfully and walked round to the back engine and started examining it. Eventually, the man gave up and told the others something and they broke out spades and started an hour-long process of filling both graves. The sun disappeared and twilight fell. As if they could not take any longer, they decided to break with carafe of coffee before finally packing their equipment up and walking away.

It was well and truly evening and the spotlights at the borders of the cemetery were turned on, with more illumination coming from the church as well. Stephen walked to the fresh graves and brandished his wand, and performed the curse he had asked Professor Dumbledore to help him find the previous day.

It was then that movement attracted his eyes. A powerfully featured figure moved across the cemetery, with a speed that no human could possibly achieve, and blended into the shadows too perfectly than what seemed normal. Stephen opened his magical sense and focused on the figure, and drew back sharply with a gasp. The figure sped out of the cemetery gates; Stephen knew this would not be good.

He apparated to the gates in the distance and applying Consiliamancy to track, him or her, it...was the actual correct pronoun. Stephen followed for ten blocks and straight into the city center. Where it stopped moving in a decidedly unnatural way and now appeared as a normal well dressed working class man, going about his business. He had blonde hair eerily reminiscent of Draco Malfoy, and was wearing a gray suit. Stephen kept a safe distance and though pedestrian traffic was sparser in the night than in day, it still allowed him the ability to blend in.

Stephen noticed the 'man' was following directions on a piece of paper, which he occasionally glanced at. He turned right at the traffic crossing and eventually came to what seemed to be a four level apartment block. Stephen knew them to house really affluent people, with huge pocketbooks, the price for apartments such as these were huge in Manchester.

He punched a code in a keypad door that allowed access to the building, while Stephen remained across the street, making sure he caught a glance of the entrance hall as the door swung open and shut, Stephen ducked into an alleyway and apparated into the building using the line-of-sight method.

Stephen appeared next to the staircase in the entrance hall and luckily found no one else inside; he'd hate to test his Memory charm proficiency, on some unlucky bloke who just happens to be there when he appeared out of thin air.

Stephen hurried up the stairs and stopped on the third floor landing, he knew the man to have walked onto this floor. The suit, as Stephen now thought of the thing he was tracking was knocking on a door that led to the third apartment on the floor. Stephen peeped into the hallway and spied the 'man' waiting patiently for the some form of response.

"Hello?" echoed a female voice from the intercom next to the door of the apartment.

"Yes, this is Mr. Alberts, I'm your father's solicitor. He wants you to work with me on your application to Oxford," stated the 'man' in rather posh well-educated accent that surprised Stephen.

"Shit, as if I could not fill in a stupid form by myself," groused the young woman.

"Your father insists I'm afraid," replied the 'man'.

"Is he afraid that I'll study Arts instead of engineering sciences?" she drawled sarcastically.

"That is one of his concerns, yes."

"Very well," she replied.

"Shit," cursed Stephen silently, he knew that this would be over quickly.

The instant the door clicked open, the countenance of the 'man' changed instantly. His face morphed into the heavy snarl and his teeth bared, the enlarged canines of a vampire rather prominent. A growling emerged from his throat as he sprung forward, crashing the door into pieces as it flew off its hinges.

Stephen drew his wand and apparated to the doorway and rushed inside and took in the scene in one glance. The vampire had thankfully not noticed him, as it was rather one-minded in this hunting mode. It had a young woman, with locks of long brown hair and a finely featured face, grabbed around her neck and shoved against the wall. With her feet dangling inches off the floor.

"First, I'll enjoy savoring your taste, then I will make you one with the undead," the vampire growled delightedly. She moaned and struggled uselessly, as the damn vampire was way too strong.

Stephen had seen and heard enough, he flicked his wand at the vampire's back. It soared away from the woman as if an invisible rope had just lassoed it around the waist and pulled hard. The vampire crashed headfirst into the opposite wall, while the young woman slumped breathless to floor, clutching at her neck. Stephen maintained his levitation spell on the vampire and slammed its back against the wall hard.

"Argentum spiculum," he muttered under his breath with an infinity loop twirling of his wand. Two darts of silver shot from his wand and impaled the vampire in the shoulders, stapling it to the wall. It roared in pain and seemed immobilized thanks to the silver.

Stephen turned to the whimpering young woman who was staring in horror at the vampire.

"Easy now, you had a big scare there, but you will be alright...hear me?" insisted Stephen, kneeling next to her and examining her throat, which was one sea of bruises from where the vampire had gripped her. Her eyes seemed transfixed at the moaning and squirming vampire stapled to her wall. Stephen placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her a bit. She broke her gaze and turned her surprised hazel eyes on to Stephen.

"Who are you?" she asked in a rush.

"My name is Stephen, and you are quite lucky that I spotted that chap stapled to your wall, while he was walking here. What's your name?"

"Angela," she answered shortly, "how did you do that?"

"If you are referring to how I managed to pin him to the wall, I can't answer that," replied Stephen. Angela's mind seemed to be working overtime.

"It's a vampire, isn't it?" she asked knowing full well the answer.

"Yes, it is, now will you allow me to treat your neck, it looks rather bad," asked Stephen grabbing a mirror for her to view her neck.

"Ullggh, yes please," she grimaced at the image the hand mirror was giving her.

"Sanesco," he cast while moving his wand across the skin of her neck like an ultrasound receiver. When he was done she looked in the mirror again and her eyes bugged out in astonishment.

Stephen walked over the vampire who helplessly tried to break free; its constant growling was starting to get rather irritating.

"Oh shut up! Silencio!" the vampire's mouth moved but no sound issued forth. Stephen started to carefully examine the vampire, and a sudden suspicion grew in his mind. He rolled up the left sleeve of the vampire and held up its wrist.

"Shit," muttered Stephen. The Dark Mark stood in stark relief to the pale sallow skin of the vampire.

"Impertio Albus Dumbledore," Stephen tapped his wand on his right forearm.

"Yes, Stephen?"

"Who is at Headquarters? I need someone to apparate to my location immediately," thought Stephen.

"Remus Lupin and Tonks are on standby," came the reply.

"Good, tell them I have a vampire problem,"

"Very well, they will be there shortly," thought the Headmaster and broke the connection.

Stephen turned and surprisingly saw Angela was busy in her small kitchen, she appeared to be making coffee. And something was cooking in her microwave. He sat down at the small dinner table and kept a weary eye on the still flailing vampire. It rather amazed Stephen that a vampire was this resilient.

It was the first opportunity for Stephen to study Angela. She was wearing a white tank top and tracksuit pants, with no shoes adorning her feet. The top was rather revealing of her curves and flat athletic belly and gave a good idea of her bra size, which was quite substantial. Stephen shook his head to clear it of the thought, and mentally remonstrated himself. The microwave pinged and she pulled out a plate of Croissants and served him some.

"Thanks," said Stephen biting into it and savoring the warm fresh taste.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked nervously.

"Backup," he replied shortly.

"Are you not going to kill it? I mean you can hardly let it go, can you? Does the stake in the heart thing work?" her nerves were palpable now.

"I don't know if I'm going to kill it, could be we can follow him to his den or his boss, but I doubt it. The stake in the heart thing does work, holy water, essence of garlic, silver nitrate and sunlight does as well," he nodded.

Angela handed him a steaming mug of coffee now and starting to gently drink it, as it was scolding hot. A heavy silence filled between them and Stephen found it quite awkward suddenly to sit here, having coffee with a young woman who had just the nearest brushes with death and discovered vampires are real. He could tell she was just as awkward about it.

"So," Stephen said a bit desperately, "what do you do?"

"Oh, umm, I'm a student, I did one year at University here, but I absolutely hate Manchester, so my father eventually agreed to send me to Oxford," she seemed quite grateful for the chance at a conversation, "but he was strict about it, insisted that his solicitor do the paperwork to his specification. Father, does not trust me much to choose my own way in life," she said bitterly, "it's his money, therefore his decision."

"That's shit," stated Stephen bluntly, "I heard you talking to the vampire, you actually thought it was your father's solicitor?"

"That is my father's solicitor, do you think I would let anyone in my apartment, just like that," she snapped her fingers, "there's a small camera above the door looking down."

Stephen's mind was racing, the vampire had the Dark Mark, and another vampire probably sired the solicitor, but why? To spy on Angela's father? To get close to him?

"Angela, what does your father do?" asked Stephen gently. The vampire was still struggling but now it seemed as if the area around the silver darts where they had impaled were beginning to blacken.

"Oh, he's just the all high and mighty Member of Parliament, in the labor party," she replied casually. Stephen was on his feet in an instant, his eyes wide.

"What?"

"You heard me," she replied.

"Shit," he replied shortly, his mind whirring with scenario after scenario, possibility after possibility.

There was a low crack that startled Stephen as he was up from his seat in an instant and wand out. It was Remus Lupin who had apparated right into the kitchen, but Tonks was nowhere to be seen. Angela gave a frightful scream and dropped her mug of coffee where it shattered.

"Easy Angela, this is backup," Stephen waved his wand and the mug reassembled itself as good as new. Remus was looking around cautiously.

"Hi Remus, where's Tonks?" asked Stephen.

"She was called in by the Ministry to deal with an emergency, don't know what it is, but we'll hear from her," he walked into the living room with the stapled vampire. Remus sneered at the vampire as it seemed to go into a renewed frenzy to get free, to attack Remus.

"It seems he doesn't like you," observed Stephen.

"I'm his natural enemy and rival Stephen, of course he would not like me," stated Remus dryly, "so what happened?"

Stephen told him everything he had experienced, surmised and deduced, from leaving the cemetery to his little chat with Angela.

"Most worrying," murmured Remus, looking at the Dark Mark on the vampire.

"The implications are bad, Voldemort could be trying to gain influence in or over Parliament. I mean, it's the instrument of muggle power, he corrupts and takes it over, and well the possibilities are not a Sunday afternoon's picnic," explained Stephen, "so what do we do with him?" he pointed to the vampire.

"Letting him go is not an option, he will just try to finish the job later, he will also report that he was unsuccessful and that you stopped him," Remus shrugged, "I see no way we can use him." Stephen looked at Remus and then at Angela.

"She's still a target, we can at least buy her some time to hide or get away," Stephen jabbed his wand in the vampire's direction, "Vampirius Exhime!"

A jet of red light struck the vampire in the chest and it's mouth contorted into a silent scream, as it started to spontaneously combust and fell to the floor, now nothing more than a pile of ashes on the floor. Remus watched and seemed impressed, the demise of the vampire not bothering him one bit.

"You've learnt much this summer it seems," Remus commented, "why did he not scream?" It seemed the werewolf was disappointed at the lack of noise.

"Well, I had him stapled to the wall with those conjured silver darts, and he made such an awful racket that I extinguished his voice with a Silencing charm," Remus nodded in understanding. Angela had watched the whole scene with morbid fascination.

"Angela, I must ask you to come with me, so this mess can be sorted out," sighed Remus.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a small voice.

"I can't tell you here, it's not safe to speak, but you will be safe, understand?" he asked gently. She nodded.

"Now go and pack some clothes, you can't come back to this apartment ever again, unless you want to turn into a vampire," he instructed gently, her eyes widened and she sprinted into her room. "Please Apparate back to Headquarters and tell them I'll be a while, then head to Hogwarts and tell the Headmaster of the situation and all your deductions."

Stephen nodded and grabbed a Croissant before he saluted Remus mockingly with a smile, and with a soft pop, Stephen Disapparated.

*

Stephen entered the dark entrance hall of the House of Black, and smirked at the portrait of Mrs. Black, which was still frozen in time. He walked off into the kitchen and not surprisingly found Mrs. Weasley bustling to make food. Sitting at the table was a shabby looking wizard smoking a pipe; Stephen had to blink for a moment because he looked rather like just a rag of smoking robes was sitting there snoozing away.

"Evening Mrs. Weasley," prompted Stephen. Mrs. Weasley turned and smiled warmly at him.

"Hello dear, fancy something to eat?" she asked brightly. Stephen smiled.

"That'd be great thanks," he replied sitting down, "is that who's on watch Mrs. Weasley?" pointed Stephen at the wizard whose pipe seemed on the verge of falling out of his mouth. Mrs. Weasley cast a look of disapproval at the wizard and nodded.

"Yes, he is on watch, though it can hardly be said he is watching anything," she answered glaring at the wizard, "his name's Mundungus Fletcher, a criminal and a thief if you ever seen one." Stephen frowned in confusion.

"But why would he be in the Order then?"

"He has his ear on the underbelly of society, therefore very useful for information we wouldn't normally get," she explained with a sneer, "I suppose you have a report to give?" she asked.

"I just have to inform who's on watch what Mr. Lupin is doing," he replied. Mrs. Weasley cuffed the wizard on the back of the head, startling him awake.

"No Dawlish, I neve' took them cauldrons," he pleaded instantly, and then finally seemed to come to his senses and realized where he was. Stephen struggled to suppress a snigger, for it was obvious what nightmare Mr. Fletcher was having.

"Wake up Dung, Stephen has a report for you," scolded Mrs. Weasley.

"Ah yes, the new lad, well how you doing?" asked Fletcher, ignoring Mrs. Weasley.

"Fine thanks," Mrs. Weasley laid a plate in front of him steaming deliciously, "Remus is away helping a young woman, muggle, almost the victim of a vampire attack."

"Wait," instructed Mrs. Weasley, she closed the door and cast a Silencing Charm on it.

"Really, so why is he handling it, and not some rookie Auror from the Ministry?" asked Dung, relighting his pipe.

"It was no ordinary muggle this vampire attacked, she is the daughter of a high ranking Member of Parliament, and this vampire was branded with the Dark Mark, you can make your own conclusions from there," stated Stephen gravely. Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth in horror while Stephen tucked into his food; Dung looked seriously disturbed by this.

"Vampires fighting for You-Know-Who..." started Fletcher incredulously when the door burst open and an out of breath Tonks stood there gasping for air.

"I need...to...speak to Albus...immediately...in person..." she wheezed.

"Then why don't you use your Phoenix mark, that's what it's there for," exclaimed Dung. Tonks widened her blue eyes in surprise and abruptly her hair changed to a violet red color, matching her embarrassed mood.

"Oh, I forgot," and bustled out again. They heard something crash outside and Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Stephen?" came a familiar sweet voice. It was Ginny, standing with her head peaking uncertainly into the kitchen. He felt a broad smile come across his face as she entered the kitchen. It felt as if his legs were on autopilot, as he rose from his seat and they hugged each other. She felt fresh as if she had just showered and her hair smelt of lavender and in the midst of this hug, Stephen felt something in his heart he had never felt before, it was as if a sudden void that was there since he was born and never knew about was filled. When he parted from Ginny and sat down he felt the void again and grimaced, as it was suddenly a wrench to be apart.

Stephen noticed Mrs. Weasley stare at them with wide eyes of astonishment, and Dung was smiling broadly for some reason. He realized that his face was flushed and a stare at Ginny showed she was not better off as she sat down next to him. Stephen nervously returned to his meal.

"What brings you to this neck of the woods Stephen?" asked Ginny desperately to change the adult's stares on them.

"Oh just passing through," Stephen's eyes fell to his plate and the sadness that radiated from him was palpable, "I attended the funerals of my brothers today."

He felt Ginny's hand grab his left under the table and she squeezed, showing support. He sighed heavily and worked on getting the terrible sad weight off his heart.

"Professor Dumbledore!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. Sure enough, the Headmaster walked serenely into the kitchen followed by Tonks and a couple of other Order members.

"Evening Molly, Dung," he nodded to them and saw Ginny and smiled, "ah Miss Weasley, if you would please excuse us we need a bit of a private chat," he said eyes twinkling.

"Very well Professor," she rose from her seat and leaned to whisper in Stephen's ear, "see you on the train," and kissed his cheek. Stephen whimpered at her fearlessness, in front of her mother and Headmaster and Order members as she expressed her feelings without shame. He shook his head to clear it. Tonks shut the door and cast an Imperturble and Silencing charm once again on the door. Something was bothering Stephen though, he focused his senses and sensed someone else in the room, standing next to Tonks.

Stephen slipped out his wand and pointed it at the presence, he could not make out the mind in the presence, and it was too skilled an Occlumens. There was a rustle of cloth and Harry appeared grinning at Stephen.

"Not bad, less than three seconds," stated Harry.

"You may wonder why I am here tonight, but the events of this evening are rather alarming," Dumbledore addressed everyone present, "but first I must ask Stephen to relate events from the cemetery in Manchester."

The Headmaster got himself a seat, as did everyone else. So Stephen related the whole damn episode to them. When he was done the Headmaster spoke up again.

"This prevented attack that Stephen relates is but one of eighteen others, that have occurred across the country, four of those occurred in London. All the targets are family members of prominent muggle politicians and leaders. All those attacked in London are also directly related to Members of Parliament. All the attacks were carried out by vampires," stated Dumbledore gravely, "thanks to Stephen and Ministry Auror's response five targets were saved and rescued, the other thirteen are all missing. It's safe to assume they have all already begun to be sired as vampires, based on what Stephen heard the solicitor vampire say. Voldemort it seems is starting the process to crumble the muggle power structure, and has enlisted a number of vampires to achieve this."

"How many vampires could he have?" asked Tonks.

"That is impossible to estimate, it could be one vampire or one hundred. To sire a fully-fledged vampire from a muggle takes about four days, at least according to the literature," shrugged Dumbledore.

"The evening of the Third Task," spoke Harry, "Voldemort gave a grand speech to his Death Eaters just after his reanimation, he spoke of how he would recruit an army of dark creatures everyone would fear. The Dementor rebellion from Azkaban was obviously something he engineered to get his Death Eaters out and that army, but why did we not consider vampires as well, and werewolves or any other 'dark' creature?"

"I admit it did not occur to me, Harry, but vampires were not enlisted by either side in the first war, since they prefer neutrality and blending in to the background to maintain their existence. With proper knowledge a wizard is more than a match for a vampire as Stephen so ably demonstrated," explained Dumbledore, "but now Voldemort has vampires in his camp and so we must make plans to stop that as much as we are doing with dementors."

"How many muggles kissed so far?" asked a frowning Stephen.

"Five hundred muggles are confirmed as having been Kissed by the Ministry, the true number may be greater, that information has not been released and is to be considered confidential," insisted Dumbledore.

"Too much hay on a fork," mumbled Dung.

"Yes Mundungus, you have something to add?" grinned Dumbledore.

"I was just thinking Albus, Voldemort is expanding his power on too many fronts, I rather think we will become too thinly stretched, the Aurors may now have a free hand and their budget is up to wartime level again, but still its too much. We all see what a devil of time we are having just protecting the wizarding world and keeping the status quo, must we now protect the muggle world as well?" asked Dung incredulously.

"Since it's creatures and people of the wizarding world attacking and killing muggles our position is clear Dung," insisted Tonks rather disgusted.

"I agree with Tonks that we must still help wherever we can but," Stephen shook his head, "Voldemort has crossed a line by recruiting vampires, and it's a line I think we are all missing sight of."

"Are there any lines he hasn't crossed?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Dementors are classed as beasts, and falls under the Creatures division, they have semi-intelligence but they are alive, they live, werewolves too. Vampires are of the undead, and they stem from ancient Necromantic arts," explained Stephen, "so I think we must get other help." Stephen stared at the Headmaster meaningfully.

"From who?" asked Tonks.

"Well, from those whose job it is to fight vampires, demons and the undead of course," grinned Stephen, "Professor Dumbledore, would it be possible to give the Chosen One a call?" The Headmaster's bushy gray eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Interesting idea Stephen," Dumbledore combed his beard thoughtfully, "ordinarily I would say yes in an instant, but there is a problem with that now."

"What problem? It's her job to do this at any spot of significant undead and demonic activity; she may be primarily tied to the Hellmouth but it does not stop her from travel," stated Stephen. He had read of the facts known about the Slayer or Chosen One in the book of an organization known as The Watchers.

"The Watcher Council, for those who do not know, are a group of mystics whose task is to watch over the Chosen One (The Slayer is gifted with extraordinary fighting prowess giving her the ability to covertly fight all a manner of evil), and organize the fight against the forces of the undead and demons using superior knowledge and mostly muggle methods. Ordinarily we would have liased with them to obtain the services of the Chosen One. But as of a couple of weeks ago," Dumbledore sighed heavily and shook his head, "the entire ruling council and their major subordinates across the world were killed in one fell swoop, by whom I have no idea."

Stephen felt his heart plummet through his stomach and crash into the floor, his eyes were as wide as saucers and the room suddenly felt cold, he knew he must be as white as a sheet. No Watcher Council meant a lot of undead were now roaming around the world unchecked and unchallenged.

"What about the Chosen One?" asked Stephen breathlessly, his heart going a mile a minute.

"As far as I know she remains at the Hellmouth, doing what she can. I imagine also that what is left of the Watchers are helping her in some way as much as they can," replied Dumbledore.

"Then I suggest we contact her ourselves," stated Stephen. Dumbledore sighed heavily and frowned for a moment in thought, his hands folded on his lap.

"Anyone have any other suggestions or comments on the situation?" invited Dumbledore. Silence reigned from the group, as everyone stared at each other, "very well. My decision will be told only to those involved. Good night everyone." Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked out of the kitchen the Order following; Harry draped his invisibility cloak over himself and walked to a corner of the room.

"Want any seconds dear?" gestured Mrs. Weasley to Stephen's plate.

"No thanks Mrs. Weasley, just some more pumpkin juice will do," replied Stephen genially. Dung and Tonks were also served some food and they dug in with a vengeance.

Stephen gently sipped on his pumpkin juice while Mrs. Weasley sat down with purposeful exaggeration next to him. He looked at her and saw she had a tiny grin on her face.

"So dear," she said, "you and Ginny seem quite friendly." Stephen had never felt as mortified in his life. He had basically just met Ginny, and he knew he liked her from what they talked and had definite feelings for her, and her actions certainly stated that she liked him in turn. He did not imagine he would be having this discussion so soon.

"Yes we are," he said and regretted it immediately. For the very recent memory of the fulfillment he got in his heart when he hugged her, shot in his mind and he suddenly felt that void in his heart quite acutely, he stared into space a glazed look in his eyes.

"Well, I guess I know all I need to," said Mrs. Weasley and squeezed his hand lying on the table and smiled warmly at him. Stephen could only blush, and could not believe that she could see, whatever she was seeing so clearly. Did he have it written on his robes that he liked Ginny?

At this point, Stephen heard a heated argument coming down the stairs towards the kitchen. It was Ron and Hermione, the former entered the kitchen with smoke coming out of his ears, the latter entered with an indignant obstinate glare at the former. Ron rounded on Hermione

"If Harry wanted to have a sobbing session with you, I'm sure he would have done so, but clearly it seems he has a lot of other things on his plate!" exclaimed Ron.

"How can you say that? He has no one else to share his feelings with. We know how Sirius's death affected him; he did not say a word about it in his letter. Whatever training he is doing is clearly just a coping mechanism for the loss he experienced," she argued back, "we don't even know why he is doing this training."

"Firstly, you know how guarded Harry is about his feelings, he is probably finding his own way of dealing with it. Secondly, he is with Dumbledore, who would not let Harry go down the deep end. And Thirdly, why should we know what training he is doing and why?"

"Because we are only his best friends in the world, damn it!" shouted Hermione

"We don't need to know his every damn thought, feeling and doings, Hermione! Tell me when you went on vacation in July, what did you do?" asked Ron insistently.

"I went skiing in Sweden with my parents," she answered exasperatedly.

"Ok, did you cry at any point in time? If so why?" asked Ron like a bloodhound on a scent. Hermione hesitated and sniffed.

"I cried once and it's none of..." Ron interrupted.

"Exactly, its none of my business to know why you did cry, we don't share everything Hermione Then why do you think it's like pulling nails to get Harry to talk about his scar? Let him morn for Sirius in peace and when he is ready he can open up to us," he stated with finality.

"Are you not worried about him?" she asked incredulously.

"Of course I'm worried! I just know that he does not want to be smothered by us both at the moment," countered Ron.

Stephen sighed and turned to corner where he knew Harry was standing, and looked pleadingly in that direction, gesturing with his head to the further ensuing argument.

"But why the extra training?" asked Hermione, "he's still in school."

"The answer to that is obvious," interrupted Stephen loudly and firmly breaking the cycle of argument. All the adults flashed relieved glances to him. The Phoenix call resounded in Stephen's mind from Harry.

"What are you doing?" came Harry's urgent thought.

"I may not know the full details of the prophecy, but I will just point out some logical facts from the past and apply some foresight, you'll see," replied Stephen.

"Just be careful, I will not hesitate to memory charm them if needs be. They cannot know the prophecy, its ramifications are beyond your wildest dreams, and Dumbledore and I are all who can know," thought Harry.

Hermione rounded on Stephen with her fists banging on to the table, her angry face inches from his own.

"What do you know?" she asked harshly. Stephen was utterly unfazed by her emotions; his Occlumency seemed to be paying off.

"You know, for someone Harry claims is very smart I'm surprised you can't figure out yourself why he is in summer training," retorted Stephen.

"Hey! Watch it!" exclaimed Ron threateningly. Stephen ignored Ron's warning.

"Let's see, who in the last five years, has always been involved in critical battles against Voldemort? Who in the end stopped Quirrell and Voldemort from attaining the most precious alchemical artifact ever made? Who fought the Basilisk in the end? Who dueled with Voldemort at his reanimation? Who escaped from Voldemort and allowed the Order to be mustered barely an hour after the Death Eaters did the same? Who fought with Dumbledore in the Ministry of Magic against Voldemort? Can't you see a pattern here Hermione?" asked Stephen calmly. She was breathing hard and looked questioningly at him and he could see the wheels of her mind spinning behind her eyes.

"Harry was the key to all those events occurring, that means..." she started.

"That he most likely will still be the key to many future events, critical future events," finished Stephen and stood from his chair.

"Wait, does this have to do with the prophecy that Voldemort wanted, the one with him and Harry in it? Do you know anything about it?" she asked desperately.

"No I don't know anything about the prophecy, and believe me I don't want to know, and neither should you. Imagine if Voldemort was to capture anyone who knew...anyone who is not skilled in Occlumency...I'll let you deduce what would happen next," stated Stephen darkly.

"Thanks for the meal Mrs. Weasley," he nodded at her.

"My pleasure dear," she rose as well to escort him out to the door. Stephen gathered his cloak around him and regarded the presence of Harry, still standing in the corner.

"I rather think it's time you reveal yourself, and explain to them what you will. If you don't," Stephen drew his wand, "I'll make you comply." He could feel Harry moving now, slowly along the wall towards the kitchen door.

"Are you barmy?" asked Ron with a frown. That was clearly what Harry was hoping they would think.

"Accio Invisibility Cloak," muttered Stephen under his breath. It was rather comical to watch as Harry was suddenly revealed as his cloak was pulled towards Stephen like a strong breeze had caught it. The Cloak's brooch kept it around his neck though.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione and Ron together. Stephen turned and without a word walked out of Headquarters and apparated away.

*

The following day was normal enough from Stephen's point of view. The training continued unabated and Harry thanked Stephen for being so forceful about finally meeting his two best friends again. It was not a meeting that the Boy-Who-Lived had looked forward to, since he knew his friends would want to know everything, but he could not tell them for not only his safety but also theirs and everyone else.

Stephen may not have known anything detailed about the Prophecy involving Harry and Voldemort, but just judging from Harry's tone when he mentioned it the previous night was enough to tell Stephen that it was knowledge that was very dangerous.

This made Stephen wonder, there were real prophecies, then what ever happened to free choice. Are we set to walk fixed paths through life, predetermined? Even if we apply free choice to the equation of our lives, eventually a relevant prophecy will be fulfilled. A prophecy narrows the events that could occur down, making it a probability. Either one thing happens or the other. Nothing else. Then, if one knows about a prophecy that has been made about you, will you not strive to fulfill it anyway if it's probable outcomes are desirable, making it self-fulfilling.

It was a decidedly interesting question.

It was just past midday and Stephen was relaxing in the Slytherin Common Room. He lay dead still on the plush green sofa that was in front of the fireplace. Salazar was also snoozing in his portrait. With a bolt of lightning, sudden realization came upon Stephen; he was sixteen and back at school. He had totally forgotten about two tiny little privileges he was now allowed to exercise as a member of Slytherin House. It was sacred knowledge amongst all Slytherins. A bubble of nervous laughter forced its way out from Stephen as he jumped up and walked over to the minor House library that was located in the Common Room.

On the top shelf was a thick, leather bound book about fifteen inches by eight in dimensions. Its presence in the House library was something of a mystery and a taboo subject to talk about openly. Veneficus et Venefica Sexus Dux was a book only Slytherins of sixteen years of age and over could touch and pull from the shelf on which it sat. A rather powerful and embarrassing hex was upon it for anyone too young and foolish enough to try and get it.

Stephen reached up and took a deep breath and enclosed his hand around the thick tome. With a sigh of relief he pulled it off the shelf and placed it on the common study desk and lit the emerald reading lamp. The book itself looked rather non-descript and totally unassuming, how ironic.

He turned to the first page and read the introduction. The author was unknown to Stephen but the publishing date did raise an eyebrow...1779. This was one old book, but it was about something quite timeless. He returned to the introduction:

The original Kama Sutra text dealt with a lot more than just sex, but in this book, I have concentrated on the information that relates specifically to foreplay and lovemaking, and where necessary, I have supplemented it with suggestions of my own. For example, I was rather surprised that the original Kama Sutra dealt in now way with the art of sensual massage, as a valuable tool for initiating foreplay.

Note as well that this is an illustrated edition, where all the concepts mentioned are demonstrated.

The first Chapter of this book provides and insight into ancient Indian attitudes about courtship and foreplay and I have written my versions of these rituals and how we practice them today. I have also included various basic potion recipes and spells used for contraception to enhancing your experience of lovemaking.

"Indeed," spoke Stephen incredulously to himself. He took a deep breath and exhaled, to calm himself a bit. He closed the book and replaced it on the shelf, making a mental note to read the whole thing before the term began. Now he walked to the eastern corner of the Common Room. In an alcove was a classical Greek statue of Morpheus the God of Dreams. Stephen placed his hand on head of the statue and tapped it twice with his wand.

The alcove and the statue disappeared and Stephen was confronted with a long dark corridor. The instant he set foot on the floor, torches alit over more alcoves and statues. There were eight such alcoves on either side of the corridor. He walked to the closest alcove and found a statue of Zeus. Stephen tapped the statue twice and it sprang aside to reveal a large room.

Green Slytherin colors were everywhere in adornment. In the center of the room was a round Jacuzzi, and the water was steaming hot. A soft carpet on the floor littered with embroidered throw cushions dominated the left side of the room, and a transparent veil hung from the ceiling encapsulating it. To the right was a wooden door that could only lead to a sauna.

"Wow," breathed an awed Stephen. The room oozed comfort, luxury and above all...sensuality. His magical sense was clearly conveying the latter to him.

He hurried outside and sealed the alcoves behind him and was back in the Common Room. Stephen now walked over to Salazar who was still snoozing in his chair.

"Hem hem," Stephen cleared his throat in a manner that would have made Umbridge proud, after he killed himself for thinking that of course. Salazar started awake in his portrait frame.

"Ah yes, Stephen, how are you?" asked the Founder.

"I'm fine, its...just...I have a question and it's a tad bit...inappropriate," started Stephen nervously.

"Well go on, ask, it's not as if I can do much about it," Salazar yawned impressively.

"I've been to a visit of the area behind the statue of Morpheus..." Stephen trailed off, his eyes showing his apprehension to continue.

"Oh, I see," Salazar frowned, "what can I say Stephen, I was very strict on my concept of pure-blood supremacy. The Recreation Area I built behind Morpheus was, to put it bluntly, a means of providing the senior students with an area to foster their relationships into permanence, ensuring at the very least that future generations would be born to a wizard and witch."

"But you understand surely that wizardkind would have died out, had we not married muggles, and allowed squibs their own way," stated Stephen, "I mean, the things inbreeding does genetically is actually weaken us, physically and magically."

"Of course I understand that now. Such research was not bothered with back when I was alive; blood was the overriding factor, your heritage and your wealth and most importantly your abilities," explained Salazar.

"Yes, and I can't believe that people are still pedaling that codswallop around today, especially Voldemort and all his idiots," snarled a disgusted Stephen.

The day wore on and Stephen walked into the Great Hall and found Professor Dumbledore at his customary seat at the Staff table, he was talking in hushed tones to a severe-faced balding wizard with short brown hair that looked to be graying in places. The robes the wizard wore seemed loosely put on and Stephen could see casual muggle clothing underneath. Dumbledore caught sight of Stephen and beckoned him closer.

"Good day Professor," greeted Stephen, nodding to the Headmaster.

"Ah yes, Stephen. I would like you to meet Mr. Stewart Giles," Dumbledore gestured to the loosely robed wizard who adjusted his round spectacles slightly and shook hands with Stephen.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Giles," intoned Stephen.

"Likewise," answered Mr. Giles in a fairly posh accent.

"In my efforts to put your suggestion of last night into practice Stephen, I stumbled upon Mr. Giles in London, our conversations have been most enlightening," explained Dumbledore, while Stephen took a seat.

"Oh..." stated Stephen inviting further elaboration, while he poured himself some tea.

"Your request could not have come at a worst time," stated Mr. Giles darkly, "I was Watcher for five years to the current Slayer and never has she been in a worse fix."

"You are referring to the destruction of the Watcher leadership," replied Stephen in turn.

"Not just that. What destroyed the Watcher's is the First Evil," stated Giles.

"No way!" exclaimed Stephen, there were texts and texts on the First in the wizarding world.

"Unfortunately," sighed Dumbledore, "that is exactly the case. The First is trying to destroy the line of Slayers, and Miss Summers is in no state to help us."

"So what now?" asked Stephen.

"Mr. Giles has been able to point me to some alternate means of help, quite ingenious," stated the Headmaster in deep thought.

"What is this help?" asked Stephen curiously.

"Well...how much do you know of Vampires...Mr. Moon?" responded Mr. Giles in kind.

"I know how to recognize and kill them, further from that..." Stephen shrugged.

"Did you know that a society of them exists?" smirked Giles.

"You serious?" Giles nodded.

"Dead serious, they live underneath the fabric of normal society, so their activities are generally not seen and heard. And they prefer to stay that way; this escalation that Voldemort is engineering is going to bring some serious attention their way," explained Giles.

"So are you saying we have to approach the Vampires themselves to stop it from escalating?" asked Stephen incredulously.

"Yes, especially since I don't think the vampire siring all these others and branding them with the Dark Mark and sending them to do Voldemort's dirty work is a part of Vampire society," replied Giles earnestly.

"Ok, so who do we contact?"

"There are three names I gave your Headmaster, two of them are in the upper echelons of the vampire leadership, and the third is a dedicated vampire hunter. Do yourselves a favor and do not let the latter within sight of two leaders, you want an alliance with the vampire nation not a war," sighed Giles and shook his head ruefully, "what a mess."

"Where are you off to now Stewart?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well, my reason to come back to England in the first place was to make contact with the remaining Watchers and at least get some organization back in place, I have been marginally successful in this regard. You are lucky you caught me, I was due to leave for California tomorrow," replied Giles thoughtfully. Dumbledore frowned for a moment regarding Giles.

"I sense though you have an important question for me," stated the Headmaster as matter of fact.

"Yes...now that I am here I was wondering for your opinion on a matter about the Slayer..." Giles glanced cautiously at Stephen. Dumbledore picked up on this.

"Mr. Moon is an Order member Stewart, and his level of Foresight is quite high, I daresay its probably even surpasses mine. Having his mind work on your problem is not a bad idea, and he has my full trust," stated Dumbledore softly. This seemed to snap Giles out of his daze.

"Sorry, I just assumed...because you're so young...never mind..." Giles stared distractedly into his goblet, "I fear that the First may succeed in destroying the line of Slayers."

Stephen blinked at this with wide eyes.

"But that's not probable, the forces behind the Slayer are as unfathomable as the reason for life itself, I doubt even the First can comprehend it," stated Stephen.

"You are quite right in that Mr. Moon," Giles sighed heavily, "but the First's escalation in taking the fight to the Watchers, the appearance of a pure demon vampire and my later consultation with a demon Seer, points to something I don't want to contemplate. Apparently, the First is taking advantage of some sort of mystical imbalance in the line of Slayers that has occurred and it is this, on which I wish to consult with you Albus."

"Go on," encouraged Dumbledore.

"Buffy Summers, the current active Slayer, sacrificed her life approximately two years ago to stop the opening of the Hellmouth. She was dead in all respects, buried and so forth. One of her best friends, Willow, a self-trained witch invoked powers that no magic user would dare call forth, and resurrected Buffy. She used her broken heart at the death of her friend to do this. I was away at this time and could not stop it or warn her of the consequences," Giles was clenching his jaw in the retelling of the story.

"My question to you is this, in your frame of reference, what would this cause to the line of Slayers?"

"Could you elaborate more on what Willow did?" asked Dumbledore.

"All she ever told me was, that she missed Buffy so much, and that it would bring her back into all of her friends lives and so forth. The price of Buffy's life was too much just to seal the Hellmouth again. She used those emotions and some of Buffy's personal effects in a spell to recall her from the...afterlife," mumbled Giles sadly.

Dumbledore frowned for a moment and stared into space and tilted his head to one side. Stephen was no less trying to fathom what it would mean.

"Bottom line, what Willow did was Necromancy," Stephen started.

"Yes, but think of the normal intention behind Necromancy," retorted Dumbledore.

"Voldemort's resurrection was Necromancy, Wormtail helped to resurrect him out of fear, terror, weakness and not of the will to do good," mumbled Stephen.

"Willow, wanted her best friend back, out of love most likely, and for what good could be done if the Slayer of that amount of experience returned to duty," Dumbledore propped a Lemon Drop in his mouth, while Giles looked in awe at the two of them.

"That is the only reason Buffy returned in a normal state. But one does not die and come back, unchanged. I mean if somebody pulled me back out of a death that I accepted I would be right pissed, you would be livid Headmaster if somebody stripped you of your great adventure," Stephen closed his eyes, letting his thoughts flow.

"Indeed I would, there is the keyword...unchanged...when a Slayer dies a new one should take her place, that happened, but Buffy was brought back by as Light a Necromantic art as you can get, she remained the Slayer when she returned. Giles did Buffy's successor retain her powers after the resurrection?" asked Dumbledore urgently.

"No," answered the Watcher shortly.

"It broke the cycle, the scale is unbalanced, I remember reading the Watcher chronicle, there are now two Slayers at any one time correct?" asked Stephen urgently, not wanting to interrupt his pattern of Foresight.

"Yes, an accident of Fate, Buffy died for a short period of five minutes but was revived by CPR," answered Giles breathlessly.

"It caused a divergence in the power of the Slayer, a whole was now two halves..." Dumbledore trailed off and Stephen leaped on the thought.

"Both Slayers need to unite, the diverged lines must reunite."

"But how?" asked Giles desperately.

"It cannot be achieved by killing either Slayer, the broken line would just continue to be drawn from the point of imbalance," concluded Stephen, his breathing getting labored.

"I agree, I can only conclude that somehow, both Slayers must reach the point of origin, of how the first Slayer came into being, only from there can the power be renewed, the balance restored," concluded Dumbledore. Stephen let out a heavy labored breath as he regained control of his thoughts and mind, and Dumbledore sighed heavily and tried to relax.

"Why yes of course!" exclaimed Giles and his eyes brightened.

"I hope we have been of some help," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled kindly at Giles.

"Yes, it just going to be a problem to get the other Slayer, she's in prison," grumbled Giles.

"Then I suggest Stewart, you reacquaint yourself with a wand at Mr. Ollivander, your reasons for not embracing a full wizarding life after your graduation was sound at the time, but now the need far outweighs your personal convictions and objections," instructed Dumbledore gently. Giles nodded grimly and said his goodbyes and swept out of the Great Hall. Stephen was infinitely curious now and could not stop the question from spilling out of his mouth.

"Why would he..." Stephen trailed off at the sad expression on the Headmasters face, "sorry Professor," he mumbled sheepishly.

"It's all right Stephen, I'll answer you because I intend for you to learn something from Mr. Giles's history, it will be something I am sad to say we will deal with a lot in the coming war," Dumbledore sighed and cleaned his half-moon spectacles.

"Mr. Giles is a muggle-born wizard. His attendance at Hogwarts started in Nineteen Seventy one, which is as you know, the listed beginning of the eleven years of Terror, Voldemort's first rise to power. He himself grew up with only a mother before he came to Hogwarts. During his entire education here he witnessed the suffering Voldemort and his followers wrought upon our world. There was almost not a month that went by without an owl informing a student of a family member's murder or death. During his fifth year however, he got the news that his mother was murdered and the Dark Mark was floating over their stately home. They killed her for simply bearing a magical son into this world. He graduated and snapped his own wand in my office, saying he could not in good conscience remain part of a world where Voldemort dominated the way of life." Stephen could hardly comprehend living with such a cloud of death hanging over everything and everyone around him.

"Will we be able to stop Voldemort, Professor?" asked Stephen softly.

"I have hope, Stephen, that we will, before he can achieve the power he had at his previous height. The means of Voldemort's destruction is known to me already, it's just a question of fate as to whether it will work or not," answered Dumbledore.

"If you have hope Professor, then I certainly will have as well," grinned Stephen weakly.

"There is always hope, my boy, as there will be victories and defeats, but great sacrifice as well," Dumbledore placed a hand on Stephen's shoulder.

"How about we train your Occlumency?" grinned Dumbledore. Stephen nodded and stood to follow the Headmaster.

*

Three days before school would begin, you would expect to find the average sixth year pupil playing Quidditch with his family, doing some last minute shopping in Diagon Alley (if you could ignore all the Auror's on guard), reading a good book, or catching up on summer homework assignments.

This was not where Stephen was. He was in a darkened abandoned warehouse, which still had oddly enough some large crates left inside, left no doubt by whoever could not afford to move it when the businesses liquidated. He was sneaking on a catwalk about two floors up from the square hectare warehouse floor.

Looking down he saw a group of five vampires, surrounding a chair, onto which was bound a tall woman. Her hair was a long mane of auburn and her high-cheeked face was hauntingly beautiful with hazel eyes that glared with anger and malice at the vampires around her. She was pulling at her bonds with ferocious power and snarling, but she was well contained, and her captors knew it. They laughed at her pathetic attempts to break free of the magical bonds, which was conjured by the Death Eater standing off to the side and leaning casually against a crate, waiting for the vampires to have their fun first.

The woman was obviously going to be interrogated, not that she was a normal woman in any sense of the word. But it was his job to attack the vampires along with Harry, while Moody took care of the Death Eater. Stephen fingered his long black hair uncomfortably which was tied into a ponytail and his strange face, all of which he had to thank McGonagall for. Moody was insistent on Stephen not being recognized in any way possible.

He pulled his wand out of its sheathe and was ready to go.

"Get on with it you idiots," snarled the Death Eater.

"Hey, you can't rush an artwork," retorted a burly vampire with dripping malice.

"The Dark Lord would be happy to sprinkle your ashes into the bloody Thames, and so would I, hurry up!" roared the Death Eater in cold fury.

Stephen felt the signal of the Phoenix call and with a grim sigh apparated with a soft pop down to the warehouse floor six meters from the vampires and four from the Death Eater, but a convenient crate shielded Stephen from view. Stephen could see Harry was on the other side but more to the left, it would be stupid to set up an ambush directly across from each other, as they could hit each other if they missed.

The acutely sensed vampires detected them immediately and whirled to confront them. Stephen stood in perfect balance, raised his wand and with two flicks of his wand sent two red jets of magic at the vampires. In an instant the five vampires were reduced to four, Harry had chipped in on the other side. Before Stephen could feel any sense of triumph his magical sense screamed a warning to him.

The fifth and last vampire had jumped impossibly high to avoid the spells and landed behind Stephen.

The young wizard knew that this close, a wand did no good. He whirled right and pirouetted on his left leg, lifting and bending his right leg in a roundhouse kick, holstering his wand in an arm sheath as well. Time felt impeccably odd to Stephen, it was as if somebody had slowed everything, while his thoughts and body still continued at its normal fast pace.

The vampire was snarling, its face contorted in utter fury as it went in for the kill. Stephen's dragonhide boot smashed into the vampire's jaw, sending it reeling and off-balance. Stephen closed the distance and struck with both his flat palms, hard as spades, against the sternum of the vampire, shouting an almighty "HAI!" channeling his life energy and magic into the strike.

Stephen heard a very slow, satisfying crunch as the rib cage of the vampire cracked and the energy wrenched and liquefied the lungs and most importantly, the heart. That amount of energy was not dissipated easily though, and the vampire was lifted of its feet and flew back at least three meters crashing into a crate, only for the vampire to burst into flame and ash.

Time seemed to roar back to normal speed and Stephen was gasping for air as the adrenaline was still working in his system. He pulled his wand out again and turned back.

Moody and Harry had both stopped in mid-stride as they were obviously on their way to help him. Both looked very nervously at him and Moody's wand arm twitched. Their glances turned questioning though as Stephen walked panting towards them.

"Later," Stephen waved Harry's attempts to help off, since Stephen was trembling rather badly, "just the adrenaline wearing off."

The three turned towards the person they had come to save in the first place. She was looking rather back at them with cold scrutiny.

"What happened to the Death Eater?" asked Stephen.

"Disapparated, before I could contain him. When he saw me he fled rather quickly, and since his vampiric idiots were dusted so quickly," answered Moody.

"Well, we came here to save her, shouldn't we get rid of the bonds?" asked Harry.

"Not yet laddy, you see Miss Harker here, is in a rather inconsiderate mood at the moment, and in a vampire that is a sure invitation to some biting, and I don't want that," smirked Moody, "so we must first explain a few things to her."

The first notably human expression crossed Nina Harker's face as she heard her own name she was surprised. And the red light in her eyes faded.

"See lads, that's how you tell what a vampire is going to do, if the eyes go red, either run or draw wand, remember that," instructed Moody.

"How do you know my name? Who are you? I know you're wizards, but what makes you so different from the one that captured me?" frowned Nina.

"Those are a lot of questions Miss Harker, none of which can be answered here, or can be answered by me fully. That wizard will return with more of the same behind him," replied Moody and tapped his wand on his forearm, twice.

"Lads, grab both her arms, Fawkes will be here to take us to safety shortly," ordered Moody and Stephen gently snaked his arm to hook in Nina's bound left and Harry did the same with right. Moody now stood directly in front of Nina and grabbed both boys' free arms.

In a flash of flame, the beautiful red and gold-feathered Fawkes appeared in the air and glided over to them. The phoenix landed on the old Auror's head and in a flash of flame and color all of them disappeared from the warehouse.

Stephen blinked and realized that Fawkes had brought them to Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster himself was standing behind his desk with wand in hand, stirring at the content of what Stephen knew to be a Pensieve.

"Ah, you're back. Rather quick that was," commented Dumbledore.

"We caught them by surprise," grunted Moody, "I would like to know how you knew her location, but I know you won't tell me."

"I'll only answer that Miss Harker is rather highly regarded by a lot of powerful people and has a lot of true vampire friends," Dumbledore smiled kindly down at the woman.

Stephen noticed she was wearing rather tight jeans, which accentuated her figure and a white shirt and leather jacket. The ensemble was torn in a few places, no doubt from her captivity.

"Well, will you then untie me please, I promise I won't bite," she asked sweetly. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he waved his wand lazily and Nina's bonds disappeared. She flexed her wrists idly at the now absent sensation of the magical ropes.

"I haven't been tied down and captured since..." she trailed off, her eyes glinting in pain at some memory.

"Physical strength Miss Harker, cannot break magical bonds," replied Dumbledore idly.

"Yeah, but it should not have stopped my family from finding me, they are so going to..." her fists and jaws clenched convulsively in anger.

"They did not betray you Miss Harker, it was they who in fact led us on your trail, but you were magically hidden and they could not find you, so when I tried to contact you personally they told us of your disappearance and we helped track you down," explained Dumbledore.

"But who was that black robed wizard, I take it he is not of the good? Relatively speaking of course," asked Nina. Stephen tuned out the conversation as Dumbledore started the whole Voldemort-Death Eater versus everybody else speech. Stephen's thought turned to Ginny, as they very often did these days and wondered what she was up to. It was a Saturday morning and he supposed he could Apparate to Grimmauld place for a visit. He pictured her in his mind and made sure he had Occlumency blocks up. It never failed to bring a smile to his face.

Stephen refocused on the conversation when Dumbledore asked a question.

"What did they want you for Miss Harker?"

"They want what all the other vampire families want, to be daywalkers," she pointed to the windows in Dumbledore's office that were not letting any sunlight in, "you can let the sun in, I rather like it in my face."

The Headmaster obliged with a flick of a finger and the windows returned to their normal function, illuminating the office rather impressively.

"How is it you are able to remain in sunlight?" asked Stephen curiously.

"I'll not answer fully, but it has everything to do with the fact that the vampire who sired me was Count Dracula himself, and that I am the most experienced chemist in all the world," Nina smirked, "and all those that I sire are also similarly daywalkers. So we are all rather elusive."

"So obviously, Voldemort's aim is to somehow use you to make his own vampires able to operate during daytime as well," surmised Stephen.

"That seems logical," replied Nina staring at Stephen appraisingly, "I wonder who is siring all these vampires for him? And why?" she asked airily.

"I suppose if we are to ask for your help and cooperation we must be open with you," sighed Dumbledore, "Voldemort has started a campaign of terror targeting the families of Government leaders and officials, and is using vampires to do this. They kidnap a person in close contact with the family first, and then sire him as a vampire they then put the new vampire under magical enslavement, and then compel the vampire to attack. The targeted family members are then sired themselves. We assume that these are the first steps in a long-term strategy to either destroy the Government or for Voldemort to eventually control it himself allowing him to wreak havoc subtly from there."

Nina frowned for a moment as if going over the possibilities in her head.

"Hmmm...how many attacks has there been?" she asked.

"Twenty-nine, as of yesterday evening. Eight of which Light wizards managed to prevent," answered Dumbledore. This was news to Stephen and by judging from his face Harry as well; then again he was not surprised that he did not know of the continued attacks, they were so busy training and all such.

"It's improbable for any vampire family to have allied with him, the Council would have any family who did this rounded up and have them see a sunrise," Nina stated darkly.

"Council?" asked Harry.

"Think of it as a place where the officially recognized families get together and 'try' to hash issues out peacefully," she saw Harry's incredulous expression, "hey, we may be vampires, but we still have human personalities and natures that govern us."

"I think that we will not stop the problem until we deal with the vampire that started the mess," growled Moody.

"Alastor, Voldemort will no doubt keep him or her hidden but close, my source has not even seen anyone remotely looking like a vampire around Voldemort. We can at best just contain the situation, with the vampire nation's help, until he is defeated."

The discussion lost all interesting aspects at this point and Stephen respectfully asked to be excused. Back down in the entrance hall he reached into his pocket and pulled out his tiny broomstick, which he enlarged, mounted and sped off to Apparate to Headquarters.

*

He entered the kitchen of Grimmauld place and found a sight that brought another smile to his face. Ginny was sitting at the table with angrily crossed arms and a disgruntled expression on her face that screamed of teenage rebellion at being denied her freedom. She was apparently in a big argument with her mother about something, who was sitting with a similar posture across from her, but seemed more confrontational. Kingsley Shacklebolt was sitting at the table as well, a rather amused smirk playing across his face as mother and daughter had a fight.

"Mom! I've done nothing but stay here with Hermione and Ron. And she only speaks to me after they've had an argument, and all she does is grouse about him and whatever they argued about, yeah mom, I've had a blast this summer," she commented sarcastically, "I've finished my homework assignments already, and I could probably write the Theory portion of the OWL's already!"

"But Ginny dear, there is a war going on out there, don't..." it was at his point that they both became aware of Stephen standing in the doorway. He smiled nervously and felt his face grow hot as he became subject to both Ginny's and her mother's gaze.

"Er...hi..." he stammered, and for the life of him, he could not figure out why he was stuttering in this way. He faced Ginny and found that he could not take his eyes off her for some reason. She stared back equally with a gleam in her eyes. A smile grew on her face and she whirled on her mother.

"I can go with Stephen, he is a member of the Order...hah!" she stated with a glee of triumph. He lost his smile instantly; he did not want to be subject of Mrs. Weasley's wrath in this matter. Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at him and eventually sighed. It seemed Ginny had won.

"Stephen dear, Ginny really wants to get out of this house, in a way I don't blame her," explained Mrs. Weasley. Stephen coughed lightly and felt a blush creep in his face.

"Well, I did come here to visit Ginny, Mrs. Weasley. In a way my summer has been quite similar, except counting Order business of course," he replied.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley rose from her chair to stand in front of him, she was shorter, but it was quite clear who was dominant, "word is you are finding yourself quite capable of dealing with your duties." Stephen got the impression from her eyes that she rather knew of all his doings of late.

"I try, Mrs. Weasley," he replied shyly.

"Can I rely on you to look after her?" she asked her eyes flashing. Stephen met her eyes and Mrs. Weasley saw his blue eyes start to actually glow with magic.

"Yes, you can," he replied with all the conviction he possessed.

Molly Weasley hugged the young man in front of her, and he seemed rather surprised at the gesture. A glance at her daughter while in his presence was enough to know everything between them.

Mrs. Weasley walked out of the kitchen and left a rather wide-eyed Stephen in her wake. Ginny now stood as well and they hugged each other tightly.

"I rather take it, that does not happen often," commented Stephen with a grin, smiling at her. She smiled back and kept the embrace going.

"No, it does not," was all she replied.

"So where do you want to go?"

"I was thinking of going somewhere, but umm...your arrival rather makes what I had in mind rather..." she blushed.

"Tell me," he instructed gently. She leaned and whispered in his ear. He shivered from the feel of her breath blowing on his ear. She leaned back and looked at him nervously.

"I don't mind, not at all, I've been there before," he replied.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah, been there on an outing with my Orphanage brothers," he quirked a grin at her.

"So how are we going to get there?" she asked excitedly. Stephen relished the feel of her in the hug and that feeling of fulfillment was back full force.

"Well, have you ever experienced mutual apparition?" asked Stephen.

"Uhhmm, no," she answered suddenly looking nervous.

"It's like a portkey, only without the pull behind the navel," he explained shortly and broke their embrace to remove his robes, to reveal some smart casual muggle attire.

"Now there is also the problem that I can't do precognitive apparition to a safe area, because I simply don't know of a safe to place to appear there." Stephen pulled out his wand and rapped Ginny once on the head with it, murmuring the Disillusionment spell and did the same for himself.

"Hey, what's going on?" she complained, "If you did a Crushed Egg Hex on me, you'll get..." she broke off as she saw or rather did not see what was happening to Stephen.

"Nice Disillusionment," commented Kingsley. Stephen wrapped Ginny up in his embrace.

"Hey, we're human chameleon's," she gasped in wonder.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yip," she peeped.

Stephen concentrated hard and directed his magic towards himself, as he usually did, but did not stop there, he also wrapped Ginny in it as he focused on their destination. With two almost soundless air displacements, he pulled her through space and time.

*