Harry Potter and the Watcher's Council

"You're weak. Everybody is. Everybody fails. Maybe this evil did bring you back, but if it did, it's because it needs you. And that means that you can hurt it. Angel, you have the power to do real good, to make amends. But if you die now, then all that you ever were was a monster." -Buffy, Amends

Harry spent the second week of term in a haze, not sure how or what he should be feeling. He instead settled for a dull numbness rather than trying to sift through emotions he'd just as soon ignore altogether. Over the next few days Harry noticed that more and more students had stopped wearing house colors, but he could barely force himself to care. He only just managed to shake himself out of his stupor when the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team approached him at dinner one day to say (in a rather loud and pompous manner that made Harry wonder if he'd been taking lessons from Ernie MacMillan) that his team was pulling out of the competition for the cup.

Gryffindor, on the other hand, was still planning to play Ravenclaw in the upcoming match in two weeks' time. How Ron and the rest were planning to do that, Harry could only begin to guess, when they were down a Beater and a Seeker, and the captain was all but refusing to talk to one of the Chasers. Hermione had also refused to talk to Ron upon learning that he was taking over as captain; her silence only lasted a few days, but when they finally did begin to talk again, their conversations were stilted and uncomfortable. Harry had a feeling that Ron's stance on Quidditch, more than anything else, was the reason that he and Hermione hadn't yet become an official couple. Despite how angry Hermione always seemed to be with Ron, Harry had caught them kissing more times than he thought was strictly necessary. It seemed that, while she was willing to snog Ron, she was absolutely refusing to date him.

The argument he'd had with Ron and Hermione after Potions the week before still plagued him. Every time he lay down to sleep at night, the image of their stricken faces haunted his dreams. He continued to make guest appearances in Buffy's dreams as well, which grew increasingly horrific and depressing as the nights wore on. Harry awoke from these dreams feeling more tired than he had before he'd gone to sleep, with his scar itching and burning uncomfortably.

"You should tell Dumbledore about it," Hermione advised him one night as they sat in the common room, working on a particularly difficult Potions essay. Potions was yet another source of pressure for Harry. The unknown laboratory was turning out to be the most difficult assignment Snape had given them yet. Harry spent most of his free time in the library researching Potions ingredients, and most of his class time feverishly working through test after test, trying to discern what exactly his potion was made of.

Harry shook his head absently, leafing through One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi hoping to find a way to detect the presence of hellebore, as he strongly suspected Snape had given him some sort of Undetectable Poison as his unknown. "I've had these sorts of dreams before," he told her, pausing to peruse a particularly useful-looking paragraph. "He always says the same thing-'Voldemort's power is getting stronger, you must protect your mind, blah blah.' He won't say anything different now."

"But these dreams are different," Hermione insisted. "They're not about Voldemort at all. What if they're connected to Ginny in some way? She spent so much time with Buffy and Willow over the holiday, and I hardly ever see her in the common room anymore..."

"Look, this hasn't got anything to do with Ginny, all right?" Harry snapped. "So just leave me alone, would you? I've got enough to deal with as it is, without worrying about a load of dreams that are probably just rubbish anyway!"

"Fine," Hermione snapped back, slamming her book closed with a loud 'thump.' "You want to be left alone? I'm going. You know, Ginny was right about you," she continued angrily as she gathered her things and stood up from the table, "you are just using me! And frankly, I'm getting a bit sick of it!"

Hermione spun on her heel and stalked from the room, slamming the portrait behind her so hard that Harry heard the Fat Lady yell in protest. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the smooth wood of the table, trying hard to hold back the tears that suddenly threatened him. He had messed up again, and just when things were almost starting to seem normal again. He hadn't meant what he'd said to Hermione-he didn't want her to leave him alone at all, and had actually come to miss her a great deal now that she spent such a significant amount of time off alone with Ron. Maybe he was jealous-it was only natural for him to be, all things considered. He just hadn't handled it right, hadn't really handled it at all, and now Hermione was mad at him again, and Ron barely talked to him anymore what with the controversy over Quidditch... All the constants in Harry's life were disappearing one by one. Everything suddenly seemed to be unraveling before his eyes. The combined pressures of school, his nightly detentions with Snape, the prophecy, extra lessons, the state of his friendships, not to mention his entire lack of any sort of relationship with Ginny... suddenly it just all seemed like too much for one person to handle.

Although it was still quite early, Harry gathered his things and made for the dormitory, knowing that he'd never be able to finish his potions essay without Hermione's help, particularly when all he could think about was the myriad of mistakes he seemed to make every time he opened his mouth these days. Once he reached the quiet of the dormitory, he lay down on his bed with a sigh of relief. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about his friends and annoyingly enough, of what Malfoy had said to him that day in the corridor after potions. Was he really so arrogant? Hermione and Ron certainly seemed to think so. But they were wrong, weren't they? They didn't know about the prophecy, or understand what he had gone through, what he was still going through. Sirius was gone because of him. Innocent people had died because of him. Whatever had happened to Ginny-if it hadn't been for his insistence that they fight the dementors on Halloween, she would never have been taken. Hermione's parents, the students who had died in the attacks at Christmas... it hadn't been his fault directly, but in the end it always came back to him, because Voldemort had risen more powerful than before with the help of Harry's blood.

Harry swallowed and clenched his fists against the overwhelming feelings of grief and guilt flooding through him. With a wave of his wand, he closed the curtains around him. Curling himself into a tight ball, Harry stared blindly into the darkness. He didn't sleep that night.

* * *

Harry rose early the next morning, before any of the other Gryffindors awoke. He grabbed his school bag, tossed his books and notes in his trunk, and stuffed it with a few changes of clothes instead. He'd pick up some food in Hogsmeade. He didn't know how long his journey would be. He didn't even know where he was going really, but he had a shrewd suspicion that he would find his way easily enough. That, or he would be found.

Harry spared a last glance at his dormmates before throwing his Invisibility Cloak around him. He was doing this for them, he thought to himself dully. Too many innocent people had died to keep him safe. It ended now. He refused to continue hiding safely at school while Voldemort continued to gain in strength and followers. The longer he waited, the worse things would be when the final confrontation came.

At the last minute, Harry turned around and snuck over to Ron's bed. Ron's bed hangings were closed. Feeling only a small twinge of guilt-this was for Ron's sake as much as his own-Harry carefully opened his friend's trunk. He found what he was looking for immediately: the dagger Malfoy had sent Ginny for Christmas. Giles, having gotten distracted by the strange demon attack over holiday, never had discovered whether it was the actual Dagger of Amalia or if it had magical properties. Harry didn't really care whose dagger it had been or if it had any historical significance. All he knew was that it was a weapon, and he'd definitely be needing one.

That done, Harry closed the lid on Ron's trunk and left the dormitory as quietly as he could. Once he left the relative safety of Gryffindor, Harry tightened his cloak around him and headed for the owlery, only just barely managing to dodge Peeves by hiding behind the statue of Boris the Bewildered. Peeves couldn't see through the Invisibility Cloak, but Harry wasn't taking any chances. If he wanted to get out of the castle undetected, he couldn't be noticed, not even by a Poltergeist no one ever believed.

In the owlery, he paused to take off his Cloak and pulled out the letter he had written during the sleepless night before. He looked it over carefully, debating whether or not he should send it after all.

Dear Ron and Hermione-
By now you're probably noticed that I've gone. That, or you're both incredibly unobservant. Sorry, you're probably not in the mood for jokes. In fact, you're probably even angrier at me than you were when I left. But anyway, here goes. I thought that if things don't work out for me, well you deserve to know the truth. You're my best friends-the best I could ever have hoped for. I can't believe you've stood by me all this time, after all the danger I've put you in.

When I met you back on the Hogwarts Express first year, I never imagined how close we'd become or how much we'd go through together. You've always been there for me, even when I was being a ridiculous git last year, and I don't know how to thank you. But now I need to do this on my own-it's time to end this, one way or another. I don't want to go into details in a letter, but there's something I've been keeping from you. That prophecy Voldemort wanted so badly last year, enough to risk exposure for it... well I can't remember the exact wording, but it basically said that I was the only one who could kill him. Unless he kills me first, that is. Right cheerful, eh? I'm destined to be a murderer or murdered. So I guess now I'm off to do that-meet my destiny and all that rubbish.

Merlin, I sound silly. Anyway, I hope you can forgive me for going alone. I'm done putting the people I care about in danger. I hope I come back. But if I don't I want you both to know that I love you. You're the only family I've ever known, and the best one I could've ever hoped for. Take care of each other.
Love from,
Harry

Harry folded the parchment and sealed it quickly, searching for Hedwig among the multitudes of owls perched above. If he thought too much about his friends, he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with it. Hedwig fluttered down to him, hooting happily. He stroked her feathers, feeling incredibly sad.

"I'm giving you this letter now," he told her, whispering as he tied the parchment to her leg. "But I don't want you to deliver it straight away. I need you to wait a day. Can you do that?"

Hedwig hooted softly to show that she understood. With an affectionate nip on Harry's finger, she took off, floating gently back up into the rafters. Harry watched her go, wishing he could take her with him, somehow. He pulled the Invisibility Cloak back on and left quickly, making his way down to the entrance hall. With no one guarding the gates of the school any longer, there was no need for Harry to sneak into Hogsmeade through the secret passage. Feeling a strange sense of freedom, Harry pushed open the front door and walked down the road to the village unhindered and unseen.

Once in Hogsmeade, he found an out of the way bakery and stocked up on bread and cheese. He didn't expect to be traveling for very long; he thought that once Voldemort got word that he was missing, as he was likely to do either through his own spies or through general student gossip that would undoubtedly make its way to the Daily Prophet, he would find Harry or send his minions to do so. With that in mind Harry turned down the road past Dervish and Bangs, heading unconsciously for the cave that Sirius had holed up in during the Triwizard Tournament. He picked his way through the rocky base of the mountains, thinking that he would stop for some breakfast in Sirius's cave before heading on. He didn't have much of a plan, but upon further consideration decided that he could probably lose himself fairly well in the mountains. His scar prickled and itched as he climbed-Harry wondered vaguely if Voldemort somehow already knew he had left the protection of Hogwarts.

Harry stopped briefly in Sirius's hideout before moving on. Even the simple sight of the place was immensely painful. Everywhere he turned, memories of Sirius seemed to spring themselves upon Harry. Sirius being so concerned for his welfare that he'd risked capture to be near him, Sirius as Padfoot, wagging his tail excitedly as he watched Harry approach, Sirius surviving on rats for his benefit... Harry left the cave soon after arriving.

He traveled slowly, restricted by the Invisibility Cloak and the rough terrain that made it difficult to set a faster pace. Harry climbed most of the day, finally throwing caution to the wind around midday, stuffing his Cloak into his bag when traveling under it became too difficult. As the sun began to set over the mountains, Harry found another cave. With a grateful sigh, Harry tossed his bag to the ground and collapsed next to it. He was too tired to continue on-he'd stay there for the night.

* * *

"Running away won't change anything, you know," said a voice from the mouth of the cave. "Believe me-been there, done that." Harry jerked awake suddenly, automatically reaching for his wand and the dagger he'd stolen. He scrambled to his feet and spun around, wand in one hand and dagger in the other, both pointed at the source of the voice only a few feet away. When he saw the slight blonde girl leaning against one damp wall, he relaxed slightly but did not lower his weapons. He glared at her. How had she found him, and why had she even bothered to come looking?

"Buffy?" another voice called from farther down the mountain path. "Is he in there? Because I'm getting a little tired of poking around dark caves."

"The spell worked, Will," Buffy called over her shoulder. "He's here, pointing his stick at me and looking like he may be channeling Dawn after doing something seriously stupid."

"Oooh, is he all red?" Willow's voice, sounding very out of breath, came from behind Buffy again, closer this time. "Is his right eye twitching?"

"Nice digs," Buffy commented, stepping further into the cave. She wrinkled her nose. "Seriously Harry, you should have a little self respect. Even vampires live in crypts. Or some even pull out all the stops and go for the occasional abandoned building. Mind if I pull up a patch of, erm, dirt? We've been walking all night."

While Buffy grimaced and sat on the packed mud floor, giving her jeans a forlorn look, Willow's head popped around the edge of the cave. Breathing hard from the long trek up the mountain, Willow collapsed next to Buffy and gave Harry a weak smile.

"We're here to rescue you," she told him, raising an eyebrow at the wand in Harry's right hand and the dagger in his left.

"I don't need rescuing, thanks," he told them angrily.

"Uh huh. And Snape doesn't need a shower," Buffy said.

"Harry," Willow tried again, shooting Buffy an amused glance, "Hermione told us about the letter you sent her and Ron. You can't just go off to face this Voldymart guy alone. Dumbledore sent us to fetch you back before you get yourself killed."

"Why didn't he come himself?" Harry demanded, suspicious. He'd known for months that Buffy and Willow were up to something highly questionable and possibly dangerous. "Why would he send you, and not McGonagall or even Snape? How do I know he sent you? In fact, how do I know you're you at all?" His grip tightened on his wand and he lifted the dagger a little higher.

Buffy snorted. "You know we're only letting you keep those weapons to make you feel better, right?" She stood up, brushing the dirt from her jeans. "You wanna go? 'Cause we can do this the hard way, if that's what you're into. Funny, I never pegged you as a friend of the old Marquis, but hey, I guess you learn something new everyday."

"Buffy," Willow said, her voice holding the shadow of a warning. Buffy tossed her head but did not take her eyes off of Harry. "Dumbledore was too busy to come," Willow explained. "McGonagall... can you really picture her tartan ass hiking up here? We're here to help you, I swear. Why don't you put down your wand and we can talk like people who understand the rudiments of rationality."

"There's nothing to discuss," Harry said flatly. "This is my destiny, isn't it? Weren't you the one who told me I couldn't avoid it?" he asked Buffy.

"Talking's never really been my strong suit," Buffy said. "Anyway I never told you to be an idiot and get yourself killed. There's lots of time for that later. After you finish school."

"Right, and in the meantime Voldemort will keep picking off my friends one by one because he can't get to me, and I'm just supposed to let that happen?"

"And you being dead will help on what imaginary plane of existence?" Buffy asked, her voice rising. She glared at him. "You're not being brave or strong here, Harry. You think you're riding off into the sunset to meet your fate, being all noble and sacrificing or something? Well you're not! You're scared, and you're running to your death because you want to end it! I get that, Harry, I really do. You're tired and you're sick to death of fighting. But that's what we do. Life is hard, and it's fighting, and it's everyday. And if you think for one second that I'm just going to stand here and let you die, then I haven't taught you a damn thing!"

Buffy's impassioned speech touched a deep well of rage inside Harry he hadn't even realized was there. "I'm being selfish?" he shouted. "I'm trying to keep people from dying! Maybe I am tired-tired of giving and giving all the time and never managing to do any good! Well now I can." Without further warning, Harry shouted out a Stunning Spell, determined to escape from them. They would not keep him from facing his fate...

"Deflect," Willow said calmly, raising her hand in front of her face. The jet of red light hit her palm and bounced off, shooting into the wall behind Harry instead. A loud crack reverberated through the cave and rocks went flying in all directions. While Buffy and Willow were distracted by the small explosion, Harry raised his wand again.

"Petrificus Totalus! " he yelled, aiming his spell at Buffy. She leaped to the side a moment too late-the spell grazed her ankle and she froze, her legs snapping together, her arms glued to her sides. With a look of surprised anger, she wobbled on her frozen legs before falling flat on her back in the dirt.

"Accio! " Willow yelled, hand held out toward Harry's wand.

"Protego! " Harry cried out quickly. His wand quivered in his hand but his spell had worked-it did not fly from his grasp.

Willow's eyes darkened and she gave him a little smile that sent a chill down Harry's spine. "Ooooh. I love it when they fight back."

"Accio Buffy! " Harry shouted. He wasn't sure if the spell would work-he'd never tried to Summon a person before-and was pleasantly surprised when the Slayer flew toward him, still stuck in the full body bind. Dropping the dagger to the dirt, Harry caught Buffy by the arm and held her in front of him as a shield. It was a dirty trick, but effective. Surely Willow wouldn't attack her friend.

"Clever, aren't you?" Willow asked. Then, "Wake up. "

Buffy came to life in his arms, slamming the back of her head into his face with a force that made his vision go momentarily black. Harry only had time enough to register the painful crunching sensation in his nose that surely meant it was broken before his arm had been grasped and he was flung unceremoniously over Buffy's shoulder to the ground. She twisted his wrist painfully, forcing him to drop his wand as she planted a booted foot firmly into his chest. Somehow in all the chaos she had also gotten hold of Ginny's dagger-it was now pointed at his throat. Harry swallowed and clenched his eyes shut, feeling strangely relieved. He felt as if lately, all he ever did was try and fail. First with Ginny, then Ron and Hermione, now this. And Buffy was right-he was tired, tired of trying so damn hard and playing the stoic hero, when really that's all it was. An act, a show he put on to make the others feel better, as if they really had a reason to hope, when in reality Harry couldn't believe that he would ever win against Voldemort.

"I think you broke my nose," Harry said finally, grimacing at the taste of blood in his mouth.

"I warned you the hard way would be a whole lot of no fun," Buffy told him. "Willow, can you fix that?" she asked, continuing to hold the dagger point steadily at his throat. Willow's face appeared from above, looking concerned.

"I probably shouldn't," she said. "Healing spells have never been one of my strengths, along with conjuring those cute little fairy lights, strangely enough. I could conjure some ice, though," she added.

Buffy took her foot from Harry's chest and waved at him to sit up. She continued to hold the dagger on him while she kicked away his wand. "Move and I promise you, I'll use this," she threatened. "I'm sure Pomfrey can reattach any extremities I see fit to...remove."

Harry gratefully accepted a cloth folded with ice from Willow and pressed if to his throbbing face. "Now what?" he muttered. "We go back?"

Buffy snorted. "So you can run off again? I don't think so. We're taking you on a vision quest."

Harry frowned. "A vision quest?"

"There's a door hidden deep in the Forbidden Forest," Willow explained. "Cassandra's Door. Cassandra was a great Seer, cursed by the Greek God Apollo to have visions but never be believed. How well do you know your ancient Greek history?"

Harry, who had not taken a single note in History of Magic for the past two years, shrugged. "They built Stonehenge?" he ventured.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Please. Even I know the Druids built that."

"Cassandra was a Trojan princess," Willow explained, ignoring their comments. "She Saw the destruction of Troy at Agamemnon's hand when her twin brother Paris kidnapped his brother's wife. No one believed her, of course, because of that whole being horribly cursed thing. Troy fell and she was taken by Agamemnon as spoils of war. According to most accounts she died when they reached Mycenae, killed along with Agamemnon by his wife and her lover. But the truth is, she was a very powerful witch. She disappeared north and eventually settled in Britain-the Forbidden Forest, to be exact. Not many people realize that the Forbidden Forest is sort of like the opposite of the Hellmouth-a convergence of mystical energy, but the good, fluffy kind. Before Cassandra died she built a door in the Forest. She imbued it with her Sight, so that anyone who crosses the threshold is gifted with a vision. If you survive, you'll be able to remember what you've Seen and use it to your advantage."

"Check out Willow. She's like mini-Giles," Buffy said with a grin. "Maybe next year I'll get you a nice tweed suit for Christmas."

But something Willow said caught Harry's attention. "Hang on a second, what do you mean, if I survive?" he asked, intrigued despite himself. He wished he'd paid more attention during History of Magic lessons. He'd never head anyone mention a door in the Forest, but then not many people went into the Forest enough to really explore it thoroughly, aside from maybe Hagrid.

"Cassandra's Door isn't exactly... free. To keep the vision, you have to give something in return," Buffy said, her eyes shifting from his. "Spirit of capitalism, the iron cage and all that."

"Like what?" Harry asked. This didn't sound good...

"It's different for everyone," Willow said quickly. "Like a trial sort of thing. But no one's died in centuries."

"How many people have actually been through the Door in the last hundred years?" Harry demanded.

"Five?" Buffy said hesitantly. "But they all lived through it. And only one of them had to be committed afterward."

"You two are insane if you think I'm going with you! Dumbledore can't have wanted-"

But just then an owl swooped into the cave, clutching a scarlet envelope in its beak. It dropped the letter on Harry's head with a squawk and flew off again, wings flapping in irritation.

Harry stared at the letter in consternation for a moment. Who knew where he was to send him a Howler? Who would be sending him a Howler in the first place? Before he had much time to consider, the envelope began to smoke at the corners. Cringing, Harry broke the seal quickly and braced himself for the inevitable.

"HARRY POTTER! " Professor McGonagall's voice echoed in terrible anger through the cave. "HOW DARE YOU BE SUCH A MONUMENTAL IDIOT AND LEAVE HOGWARTS! REST ASSURED YOU WILL BE SERVING DETENTION FOR MONTHS TO COME WHEN YOU RETURN! DO YOU HEAR ME, POTTER? MONTHS! AND YOU HAD BETTER DO AS YOUR PROFESSORS SAY OR I WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE DRASTIC MEASURES! "

Taking his hands from his ears, Harry smiled wanly at Buffy and Willow. "Well I guess that settles it, eh? So where exactly is Cassandra's Door?"

* * *

The journey back to Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest went much more quickly than Harry's trip out, when he'd been going it alone. Buffy set a fast pace, oblivious to Willow and Harry's panting breaths as they straggled along behind her. Now that he no longer needed to worry about being discovered, Harry left his Invisibility Cloak inside his bag, allowing him to move more freely than he had before. It only took them a few hours to reach the edge of the Forest, although by that time both Willow and Harry were exhausted and out of breath. Buffy, who seemed to have limitless amounts of energy, wanted to go on immediately, but Willow convinced her to let them rest for a few minutes by whining unashamedly.

They sat on a large log in a small clearing just within the edge of the Forest, the same one in which Hagrid had done his lesson on Thestrals. Snow covered the Forest floor in thick white sheets, despite the fact that the trees above should've blocked at least some of it. Harry shivered in his winter cloak. Even now it was snowing softly, large flakes floating down through the tree branches to melt on his face and hair. He'd been too busy and too involved in his own thoughts until that point to really feel the cold, but now that they had stopped, the chill of the January day was beginning to seep into his bones. Willow and Buffy both wore heavy Muggle coats of wool and funny, colorful hats with baubles on top that reminded Harry forcibly of Hermione's elf hats. Thinking of Hermione was painful-he wondered what she and Ron thought of his letter, if they were angry at him, if they would ever forgive him. He'd been incredibly stupid to think he could just go off and find Voldemort, and he didn't even really know what he'd planned to do then. Die, most likely. Maybe Buffy had been right, and that's what he had really wanted-to die, to end it, because he was sick of carrying on.

Buffy rubbed her mittened hands together, shivering. "You know what this reminds me of, Will?" she asked wistfully.

Willow smiled. "That time it snowed on Christmas? It seems like such a long time ago. I was with Oz..."

"Angel... he was such an idiot. Kind of reminds me of you, Harry."

"Gee, thanks," said Harry dryly.

Willow frowned. "Harry reminds you of a guy who tried to destroy the world?"

Buffy hit Willow playfully in the arm. "No, silly. Harry reminds me of a guy who thought it would be a great idea to destroy himself instead of being used. You're very self-sacrificing, you know. Don't you ever just want to do stuff for yourself? You know, like go on dates and be a kid and have fun?"

"I thought I was selfish," Harry said bitterly.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Well, you are sixteen. C'mon, seriously? You're famous. You could be getting with all the hotties, and instead you just mope around being all noble and 'I have to save the world from unspeakable evil' and stuff. I always hated being secret identity gal. But you... well everyone knows about you fighting the Big Bad. You should totally take advantage!"

"Buffy!" Willow chided. "I don't think we should encourage Harry to, er, take advantage of anything."

"Listen Harry," Buffy said earnestly. "This is the last advice I'm going to give you, I promise. Because the last time I tried, I obviously gave you some wacked ideas about facing your destiny. You have a year and half left at school, right? A year and a half of being protected. So I say, use it. We all know you might not live through the final showdown. I'm not going to coddle you and pretend it's not a big possibility-it's a risk us hero-types take. So you have this time to be a normal kid and yes-train to face the most evil dark wizard ever-but also have fun and date and be a regular guy."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think... I mean it wouldn't be exactly fair to date at all, would it? Not if I might die, or put someone in danger."

"I'm not saying that's not a possibility," Buffy said, "but you can't let fear of something that may or may not happen stop you from doing stuff. There might be consequences to deal with later-"

"-like soulless fiends attempting to murder your friends and suck the world into hell," interrupted Willow.

"-but that's later, and hey, it pretty much always worked out for me. Plus," she added, shooting a frustrated look at Willow, "how likely is it that you'll fall in love with a vampire with a soul? Far as I know, there're only two, and-"

"-as they're both in love with Buffy-"

"-you probably don't stand a chance with either of them." Buffy and Willow both grinned at him expectantly. He didn't know what they wanted from him-some sort of declaration that he'd try to act like a normal boy while he was at Hogwarts? It wasn't possible, and besides, he had already put enough people in danger as it was. If he started dating and acting, well, like a regular teenager, who knows what might happen?

"Er, we should probably be getting on," he said instead, standing up and brushing the snow from his cloak. "We don't want to be caught in the Forest at night if we can help it."

Buffy sighed. "Fine, fine. Listen to my crappy advice about destiny and ignore my good advice on having fun!" She stood and turned in a tight circle, trying to orient herself. "Okay, I think it's this way," she said, pointing ahead into a dense field of tall trees.

It took another hour to reach the heart of the forest, and an additional fifteen minutes after that to locate Cassandra's Door. They stumbled upon it almost by accident-Willow had gone off to relieve herself behind a particularly large tree, only to call out a few moments later that she'd found it.

Harry found himself staring in awe at the Door. It was set in a small clearing, a large stone archway filled with an iron-grey wooden door. The clearing itself was what had Harry staring. There was no snow here; the grass grew green and tall and wild, the branches of the trees bowed beneath the weight of leaves and flowers and cones-it seemed to be caught in perpetual springtime. The Door itself reminded Harry painfully of the strange veiled arch that Sirius had fallen through in the Department of Mysteries. So old it should have been crumbling, the Door radiated a strange, almost hypnotic magic that had Harry taking small steps toward it without even realizing what he was doing.

"So what happens now?" he asked finally. He could not seem to take his eyes from the Door. Was it somehow connected to the arch in the Ministry of Magic? Could he possibly reach Sirius through it?

"Now you go through," Buffy said unhelpfully.

"There's no handle or knob or anything," Harry pointed out. He took another step toward the Door.

Willow sighed, her face twisting in a strange sort of grimace. She swung her bag off her shoulder and knelt down, carefully untying the strings that held it closed. She paused before opening the bag, giving Harry an oddly resentful glance.

"Do you know what this is, Harry?" she asked. "What's in the bag, I mean?" Harry shook his head, his eyes trained on the black cloth, now intensely curious. Willow sighed again. "It's one of the Bends of the Rainbow. The blue one."

"The Bends of the Rainbow?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed in thought. He'd heard that somewhere before, he was sure of it. Something about altered mental states and magical objects... that was it! Professor Binns had given a brief lecture on the Bends just last June. Harry didn't remember much from that lesson, as he'd spent most of it playing hangman with Ron on a corner of spare parchment, but the name definitely rang a bell. The Bends of the Rainbow were actually thirteen magical balls created by a sorcerer who in some stories pre-dated wizard kind, but in others was Maerlyn, the Ageless Stranger...

Buffy was watching him curiously as he took far too long to answer a simple question. "You have 'but' face," she said dryly.

"What?" Harry asked quickly, distracted from his memories.

"You look like you're about to say 'but,'" she clarified.

Harry shook his head and turned to Willow. "But I thought the Bends were a legend-a sort of wizard's holy grail?" he said finally. "Or at the very least, they were lost hundreds of years ago."

"Does this look mythy to you?" Willow asked. She pulled away one corner of the bag, revealing the glossy curve of a glass ball so intensely blue that Harry felt he could be lost watching that color, could let himself sink into its depths and become part of its beauty...

Willow covered the ball quickly and Harry blinked, so disappointed for a moment that he almost hated Willow for taking the blue vision away.

"See?" she said softly. "So not a myth. This is what those of us who bother to, you know, actually read call 'blue peace,' one of the Bends. Dumbledore managed to wrangle it from a friend of his, something about a trade involving performing inappropriate charms on goats that the average citizen couldn't get away with. I guess old blue eyes is an exception. Anyway, blue peace will open the Door. But it's sort of, well, deadly addictive, so it would be nice if you could be kind of quick about this."

"So it's all true?" Harry had to ask. He had to know if it was true, what he'd heard about the Bends. Because if it was then maybe, just maybe, there might be a way to bring Sirius back...

Willow couldn't quite meet his eyes. "It's true that there are thirteen. They were created by a powerful sorcerer known as the Ageless Stranger. Each one represented a different Guardian of the Beam-"

"Never mind all that," Harry interrupted impatiently. He was not interested in a lesson on mythology or history, whichever it happened to be. Hope was beginning to flare inside him, hope that perhaps Sirius wasn't as lost as he seemed. "Wasn't one of them known for time traveling powers?"

Willow's eyes clouded and her lips tightened to a thin, near-invisible line. "Forget about it, Harry," she said firmly, but not unkindly. "That one is lost to us. And anyway, I know what you're thinking. Don't think I haven't gone over it a hundred times myself. If there was a way to bring people back... but there isn't. He's gone Harry. Sooner or later, you'll have to accept that."

It was Harry's turn to look away. His eyes focused on the Door, its strange grey wood carved with runic symbols he couldn't read. "Let's just get this over with," he said. He felt anger rising inside him, uncoiling like a snake about to attack. His tongue tasted bitter in his mouth. Harry bit it to keep from screaming out his rage and pain, and his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood instead.

Willow bent over the bag and peeled it open once more. This time Harry did not look, but he could feel blue peace calling to him, filling him with a near physical yearning to turn back and just stare and stare. It took all his willpower to remain facing the Door, keeping his eyes carefully trained on those runic letters. He took a step closer, and the symbols suddenly became utterly clear. The words were plain as day. Harry didn't understand how he couldn't have seen before: Found Door.

"Right," Harry muttered. The Door seemed to call to him, but that same very magnetic attraction made him hesitant to approach it. What if he couldn't pay the price, whatever it was? What if the vision was something terrible-his friends dying, or something else equally horrifying? Taking a deep breath, Harry screwed up his courage and took several more steps forward, until he was directly in front of the Door. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, he reminded himself sternly.

The Door shimmered in the rays of spring sunshine filtering through the trees, its ancient grey surface wavering in and out of existence. He took a final step forward and the Door disappeared entirely. Through it, Harry could see only a vast field of black, a sort of blankness that both frightened and compelled him. With one last look back at Buffy and Willow, crouching low over blue peace, Harry stepped over the threshold.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the screaming. It seemed to surround him on all sides in a tornado of sound, so loud and chilling that Harry's first instinct was to clamp his hands over his ears. When he gained his bearings enough to take a good look around, the sight that greeted him made Harry feel almost sick with horror.

He was in the midst of a battle. Spells flashed around him, lighting up the grey dawn sky in sickening shades of green and red, and the noise of people shouting was deafening. There were hundreds of people--a crowd so large he could hardly distinguish who was who and which sides were which. He saw Hagrid above the crush, looking slightly ridiculous with his flowered pink umbrella, a fearsome expression marring his normally kind face. Directly to his right, Parvati and Padma Patil fought side by side, protecting each other's backs as best they could. Farther along he saw more Gryffindors--Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Katie were pressed together, aiming spells at seeming random. Harry turned in a circle, searching desperately for Ron and Hermione, but he couldn't find them anywhere. And then a shout went out, and the action seemed to stand still for a complete second as loud, thunderous crashes from the forest behind signaled a new threat. Harry whirled about, only to find himself frozen with shock at the sight of ten massive giants emerging from the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

A sort of determined hush fell over Harry's friends and the professors, and then from behind him he heard the distinctive voice of the Slayer. "Now! "

With an earth-shaking crash and a shower of impossible golden fire, the dawning sun died, abruptly extinguished like a candle in a strong wind. The scene fell into darkness so complete that Harry could no longer see his friends or enemies alike. Then the world erupted into a barrage of screams.

Harry was pulled from the scene jarringly, as if he had just touched a Portkey. One moment he was shrouded in darkness on the lawn of Hogwarts, the next he was being yanked through time and space, destination unknown. He landed hard and fell to his knees. He was in a grassy clearing in a forest and before him stood a tall, graceful woman in long white robes. Harry could barely stand to look at her face; it was both breathtakingly beautiful and somehow terrible all the same.

"Harry Potter," the woman said with a smile of satisfaction. "I thought I might be seeing you." Harry had to resist the urge once again to cover his ears-her voice was low and as equally terrible as her beauty. Like the sound of nails scraping along a chalkboard, her voice sent an immensely unpleasant chill down his spine.

"Please," Harry gasped, his fingers clutching at the grass and pulling it up in clumps, "where am I? Who're you?"

The woman slid gracefully to her knees in front of him. She cupped his face in one ice-cold hand, forcing his head up to meet her eyes; with the forefinger of her free hand, she traced the lightening bolt scar on his forehead almost reverently. She pressed her lips to his scar, his right cheek, his jaw. Harry trembled beneath her touch, feeling equal parts fear and desire as the mysterious woman examined his face as if she had never seen one before. After several moments she pulled away, sitting back on her heals and favoring him with another terrible smile. She spread her arms wide in an eloquent sort of shrug.

"But, isn't it obvious? I am Cassandra. You've had a vision, yes? And now it is time to make your payment." Harry stared dumbly at her face, the sharp slant of her cheek bones, the elegance of her almost stubborn jaw line, the way her eyes seemed almost colorless--pale, strange orbs set deep in her face, huge and bright against the olive of her skin.

"What do you want from me?" Harry asked, forcing himself to stay calm. Willow and Buffy would not have put him in any sort of mortal danger, at least not on purpose.

"You are asking the wrong question, my child. It is not I who seeks something from you, but you who desires something of me. Knowledge can be a terrible gift. It is why I am never believed," she told him with a wry twist of her pale lips.

"Knowledge?" Harry asked, confused. He had thought there would be a test of some kind to escape with his vision. He had never imagined that she would offer...

"I am a Seer," she said simply. "I Saw the fall of Troy, the destruction of my family and enemies alike. Now I will See for you. I will answer one question only, but you must choose wisely, child. Knowledge can be as terrible as it is useful. To know the future and be helpless to change it-I have seen men go mad with grief and horror."

Harry swallowed and clenched his hands together, his mind racing desperately. The first idea that came to his head was Ginny, that he should ask about her actions and what they meant, but he shoved the thought away angrily. The petty machinations of a teenage girl were hardly important enough to warrant asking Cassandra about. His mind turned to the battle he had seen, and without thinking the words tumbled from his mouth.

"That battle I Saw-can you tell me the outcome?"

"The outcome... that would depend upon how you define your terms." She closed her eyes briefly and Harry couldn't help but feel a momentary surge of relief now that those strangely pale eyes were no longer focused on him. "Many lives will be lost in both sides. I see grief, pain, destruction. Betrayal will turn the tides of the battle."

"But who will win?" Harry asked quickly.

"Win. What an odd word to use in the context of war," she replied unhelpfully. "There is no winner here, only the dead and the survivors. The ferryman will line his pockets with the fares of the fallen. He, perhaps, could be considered the victor."

"What has that got to do with anything?" Harry shouted in frustration. Cassandra stood slowly and took several steps back, staring at him with a bored expression on her face, as if she had been expecting just this reaction. "Why did you bother to See for me if you weren't going to tell me anything useful? Of course people are going to die! What did you think happened in war-they exchanged mild insults?!"

"Listen to me, boy." Her words were calm, but her voice held a thread of danger that made Harry cringe away from her. "I have seen war-years upon years of death and destruction, atrocity and loss. I did not believe you a fool before this, but if you can think for even a moment that any triumph can be had in death, well..." She paused and stared at him assessingly. When she spoke again, her voice was tired and resigned. "I merely answered your question. Perhaps it is the question that is flawed, rather than its reply," she said blandly. "I am sorry if you are disappointed. You should leave now. I sense our meeting has ceased to be productive, to either of us."

She waved her hand and the arched doorway appeared between them, blocking her from view. Harry scrambled to his feet and approached the Door quickly, wanting nothing more than to escape Cassandra and her useless, frustrating predictions as quickly as possible. He didn't like the way she made him feel-as if wanting to fight, to protect his friends and stand up for his beliefs was wrong somehow. They grey, stone-like wood of the Door shimmered and vanished as he moved nearer. On the other side lay the Forbidden Forest, bathed in the dim, shadowy light of dusk. Willow knelt on the ground facing the Door, blue peace shimmering in front of her. Her face twisted with the effort of maintaining control. Her eyes flashed at him, mossy green then a deep, disturbing black that sent chills down his spine. Harry rushed forward, knowing that he had to get back to Willow and blue peace before it was too late-for all of them. As he stepped through the shimmering surface of the Door, Cassandra's voice echoed in his mind like the howling of wolves... "Betrayal will turn the tides of the battle..."

* * *

"Well, that was an absolute waste of time," Harry told Buffy and Willow as they trudged through the forest toward the castle. He had just finished telling them briefly about his vision and the encounter with Cassandra; recounting her words only served to intensify his frustration at her so-called predictions.

"It wasn't completely useless," Buffy protested. "I mean, hey, now we know there's gonna be a battle. A fight we can handle-nothing we haven't faced before. Could you tell when it happened?"

Harry shrugged. "It was warm outside, and sunny. Summer, perhaps? There were loads of students though, so it had to be during the school term, when Hogwarts is still in session. My best guess would be June-it usually doesn't get hot here until around then."

"June? Why does it always have to be June?" Willow asked. "It's like baddies plan their apocalyptic world take over attempts just to ruin the summer. Every time!"

"Feel lucky you got something that made even a little sense," Buffy advised him. "Last time I went on a vision quest, all I got was 'Death is your gift.' Believe me, that doesn't go over well at birthday parties."

"Death is your gift?" Harry echoed.

"It's sort of a long story," Willow said.

"I died to save the world from unimaginable hell, hence the entire giftyness of death," Buffy said.

"Okay, maybe not that long," Willow said with a smile.

They walked on for another half an hour before reaching the edge of the forest. By the time they climbed the front steps of the castle, night had fallen and Harry was exhausted. He had eaten very little in the past two days and his stomach reminded him of this suddenly with a loud growl.

"Hungry?" Buffy asked, giving Harry a sidelong glance. Harry smiled wanly-it had been a long day. She took pity on him. "C'mon. Our rooms are near Gryffindor. We have food. Well, we have ramen, a food-like substance."

Harry followed them into the castle, sighing as they crossed the stone threshold. He felt strangely relieved to be back. Only two days before, he had thought he'd never see Hogwarts again and now he had returned so quickly. A wide grin broke across his face and he found himself smiling foolishly, despite his exhaustion and hunger. He was home.

Buffy and Willow's rooms were tucked away in one of the smaller turrets very near Gryffindor tower. Although they each had their own bedroom, the two girls shared a small sort of common room with two squishy red couches that looked suspiciously as if they'd been taken from Gryffindor, an ancient brown recliner Harry recognized as a Laz-y Boy, and, to Harry's great surprise, a television. Just off the common room was a small kitchenette consisting of only the very basics: a miniature refrigerator, tiny gas stove, and rusty-looking sink. Buffy headed directly for it and began rummaging in the cupboards while Harry and Willow collapsed onto the couch. Willow fumbled with the television remote and the television sparked to life. After a few moments of snow, "The Simpsons" appeared on the screen.

Harry smiled. "How'd you get this to work at Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "I thought Muggle things like this didn't work with so much magic in the air."

Willow smiled slyly. "I know this ionizing spell. Pretty much useless, but I get to watch t.v. this way. I don't know how you guys survive without it."

After a few minutes Buffy emerged from the kitchen with a large, steaming pot and three forks. "Okay Harry, you're about to partake of the extent of my cooking abilities." She handed him a fork and set the pot on the coffee table in front of Harry and Willow. Buffy settled on the floor opposite and began to eat ravenously.

Harry shrugged and began eating. "So tell us more about your vision, Harry," Willow mumbled through a mouth of noodles.

"It was strange," Harry said. He was feeling much better now that he had eaten a bit. He paused to consider his words carefully. Despite the fact that both McGonagall and Dumbledore seemed to trust the Defense professors, Harry still felt extremely wary of them. They'd been acting suspiciously since the beginning of the year. Harry chose his words carefully.

"I was in the middle of a battle. You were both there, and loads of students. Only, I didn't see myself or Ron or Hermione. And then everything went dark-like the sun had been totally blotted out. And then..." Harry sighed. "Screaming."

"Aha!" Willow said triumphantly.

"Aha!" Buffy repeated knowledgably. "Aha? What are we 'aha-ing' about?"

"Well, okay good point. We don't really know anything new, but we've done this before, right? Big brewing evil, apocalyptic battle... we can handle that. Just remember the three most important words to a Slayer: preparation, preparation, preparation."

"That's one word three times, Wesley," Buffy smirked.

Willow shrieked and threw a cushion at Buffy's head. Buffy snatched it deftly from the air and shoved it under her, grinning. "So what do you think, Harry? Open your Inner Eye... you must See beyond!" Buffy said in a spooky, fluttery voice, doing a spot on impersonation of Professor Trelawney.

Harry bit his lip, debating whether or not to tell them about having met Cassandra and what she'd told him. After a few moments he decided against it; she hadn't said anything useful, after all, and for some reason Harry didn't feel as if he should go around telling people about the encounter, much less two strange women he hardly knew.

"It's a bit odd though, isn't it?" Harry asked finally, voicing something he'd been wondering about since he'd had the vision. "Why would I have a vision that I wasn't in? And why wasn't I there? A huge battle like that... there's only one reason I can think of why I wouldn't be there," Harry said miserably.

Buffy shook her head. "Don't be an idiot. You're not going to die. Maybe you were taking a nap. Or, or sick with the flu. I know whenever I have a sinus infection, my Slaying is never up to scratch."

Willow gave her a look. "What Buffy's saying is that there's probably some really good reason you weren't there. It's the future Harry. We won't know until, you know, it happens."

Harry shook his head. "I knew there was a reason I dropped Divination as soon as I could," he said with a smile. "Anyway, I suppose I ought to get to Gryffindor. Classes tomorrow," he added with a grimace. "Urg. I've missed two days' worth. Oh Merlin, I'll never catch up in potions!" he groaned.

"I didn't do that well in school, and look where it got me," Buffy said encouragingly.

"Buffy, you've died twice. And if things had worked out the way I'd planned, I wouldn't exactly need to worry about lessons!" Harry grumbled.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Go to bed, Harry. You could pass for walking dead right now. Or maybe stumbling, shuffling dead. And believe me, I've seen enough zombies to know."

* * *

A wave of exhaustion hit Harry as he climbed the stairs to Gryffindor tower, a feeling of sudden dread sweeping over him as the Fat Lady's portrait drew nearer. Hermione and Ron were just inside that portrait, probably waiting up for him to make sure he'd returned. Harry wondered if Hermione was still angry with him, and whether Ron would even speak to him. When he'd left, the three of them hadn't been on good terms; he and Hermione had just fought, Ron was barely speaking to him, and Ron and Hermione weren't really speaking to each other, either. Harry stopped in front of the Fat Lady, thinking furiously. The letter he'd written them... Willow had said Hermione had gotten it. Harry found himself flushing, remembering what he'd said in that letter. That they were his family, and that he loved them, that they needed to take care of each other... He swallowed, wanting to see both of them so badly it was a near physical ache, but dreading it all the same.

"Are you coming in or what?" the Fat Lady demanded. "Only, Lady Violet's invited me to a party in that portrait of the three monks, so get on with it."

"Fairy dust," Harry said tiredly. The portrait swing open and Harry climbed through, ready to face his friends. After all, things couldn't really get much worse than they'd been before he'd left...

Before Harry had even gotten all the way through the entrance to Gryffindor, a large amount of bushy hair was being shoved in his face as Hermione practically knocked him over in a desperate hug. Harry stumbled and fell, bringing Hermoine down with him. She shrieked and landed on him with an 'oof!'

"Harry!" she said, rolling of him and wiping tears from her eyes. She gave him another awkward hug as he attempted to right himself. "Oh Merlin, we thought you were dead! When Ron said you'd gone, a-and then I got that letter this morning..."

Ron cleared his throat pointedly, halting Hermione's rush of words. Harry stared up at his best friend, his throat suddenly tight. Ron held out his hand and Harry took it. Ron pulled him to his feet and Harry couldn't help it-he found himself grinning like a fool again.

"Glad you're back, mate," Ron said. He helped Hermione up and they all stood there, smiling at each other and shuffling awkwardly.

"Erm, are Dean and Seamus and Neville around?" Harry asked pointedly.

Ron waved his hand toward the fireplace, where all three of their dormmates sat, surrounded by books and looking particularly frazzled. "McGonagall set a near impossible essay on human transfigurations. No one's really slept since."

"Let's go upstairs," Harry said quietly. "I've got something to tell you." Once the three of them were safely ensconced in the boys' dormitory with the door closed, though, Hermione began speaking before he got the chance, wringing her hands with worry.

"Why didn't you tell us about the prophecy before, Harry?" she asked, her eyes full of doubt and pain. "I mean, I knew there was something, obviously, but I never imagined... I thought it was just the thing with Ginny, and really Harry, you should have told us!" she finished breathlessly.

Ron was staring at him, his freckles standing out starkly against the white of his face. "Harry, mate..." he said faintly, looking decidedly ill, "I don't know what to say."

Harry shrugged and gave them both a wan smile. "We always kind of knew, though, didn't we? I mean, just because it was prophesized doesn't change anything. I always knew that in the end, it'd come down to him and me."

"Him and us," Ron corrected, giving Harry such a fierce look that he didn't dare argue.

"So... are you two still angry with me?" Harry blurted suddenly.

"Well, you were a right prat," Hermione said. "But considering the extenuating circumstances of looming death and apocalypse, I suppose we can find it in our hearts to forgive you."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "Speaking of death and apocalypse," he said, slumping onto his bed, "Something else happened while I was gone..." And he told them about Cassandra's Door-the Found Door-and his vision.

He felt strangely hesitant, even now, telling them about Cassandra, but a part of him felt like they deserved to know everything. He'd kept so much from them already, particularly about the prophecy... now that he'd finally come clean about it, he didn't want to hide anything anymore. Buffy was right, in a way-his friends were assets. He'd never have made it this far without them. Hell, he'd probably dead several times over if they hadn't been there to help him through.

"Damn, Harry," Ron said when he'd finished telling them everything.

"Don't swear, Ron," Hermione chided. She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. "Well you know, Professor McGonagall's always said that Divination is a very wooly subject. And honestly, I'm a bit skeptical about this Door. There's no mention of it anywhere in Hogwarts, A History-I'd have remembered something about a door that gave visions. How can we even be sure it wasn't some illusion, some kind of spell Willow worked? I still don't trust them," she added worriedly.

Harry nodded hopefully, but that night as he lay in bed staring up at the dark red of his canopy, he couldn't help but remember his vision. The details flashed in his mind's eye, exceptionally clear in all their horror. To Harry it felt as if he had really been there, as if the whole thing had already happened and he was just waiting in a strange sort of limbo for time to catch up to his perception of it. Hermione's words rang hollow in his ears, meaningless compared to the terrible certainty of his vision and Cassandra's bleak prophecy.

* * *