by Lisette: Lisette_an@hotmail.com

Legalese: The television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters and material belong to Joss Whedon and UPN.  All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.  I claim ownership solely of the story idea - no profit will be made by this.

Author's Note:  Now that's what I call a weekend excursion!  Good lord that's a lot of driving - and Chicago?  WAY too much construction!  Anyway, I'm back - sore and exhausted - but back to give you guys the promised update.  As always, I want to give a huge shout out to Kiwi, Rob, Tara, Rosie, poppie, Catilmere, Lala, Harry, Mija, Angel, Lynn, DragonGal, mysticpixie, and Burgandy Lily.  Thank you all so much!!

jezowen: I'm glad that Hagrid came off alright - with his Scottish brogue, his accent and phrases are a bit of a trick to catch.  And you're right - my bad on the last chapter.  It should have read 'all that she endured at the hands of the CENTRE.'  I'll try to remember to fix it later.

Saturn Maiden: LOL Did you read my author's notes from Chapter 17?  I said the same about that last BtVS episode with Xander getting hurt, almost word for word.  Yes, it is definitely the series ending soon.  And no, I don't really think Principal Wood will get eaten or even die.  His character doesn't seem important enough to kill off or not to.  Kind of that in-between status.  And as for Scooby involvement in this fic... let's just say that you shouldn't count them out quite yet.

"O, what may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!"
-William Shakespeare-

    As the wan sunlight filtered through the heavy layering of clouds to sparkle on the crowded dining hall, the people of Hogwarts moved through their normal routines with an air that was clearly strained, their conversations hushed and their postures wary.  Coming through the wide double doors after an exhausting night of patrol, this was the first thing that Buffy noted as Giles nearly plowed into her from behind, so startled by her abrupt pause on the large room's threshold.  In the past, such an action would have surely launched some kind of rebuke, or at least a comment from either, but seeing as how their silence had been stretched over the past two weeks, nary a word was said as instead Giles brushed past his slayer and moved quietly into the hall.

    Sighing, Buffy watched as the man that she had come to love as a father slowly, and obviously quite painfully, settled at the far table.  This silence was getting beyond the point of ridiculous and verging on maddening.  Buffy knew this, and yet each time she tried to broach the subject with her watcher, Giles seemed to only draw further away - and to be honest, Buffy didn't understand why.  It couldn't just be about the sleeping potion that she had drugged him with - not after all this time.  But what else could be troubling their relationship was obviously very one-sided and something that the watcher seemed unwilling to share.

    Rolling her eyes at his stubborn British pride, Buffy slowly abandoned the doorway and moved across the room.  It had been a long night of patrol, just as all patrols had been since Voldemort had learned of her presence in the forest.  It seemed that barely a night passed that there wasn't some kind of trap or another lying in wait for her - or more specifically, for whatever plagued the Forbidden Forest and continued to decimate the Dark Lord's hold upon the misty woods.  While she hadn't seen another Death Eater since that first night almost two weeks ago, the dark and magical creatures that seemed to be in Voldemort's control were certainly not lacking.  That night had been particularly brutal as a group of six winged creatures quickly lay into Watcher and Slayer - thus resulting in Giles' stiffness and the long bloody scratch that marred her dirty cheek.  At least sufficient time had passed that the residents of Hogwarts barely even glanced at her bedraggled and bloody appearance.  After all, she had appeared in far worse condition on many a different occasion.

    Shaking away her thoughts, Buffy settled heavily on the bench at the Gryffindor table across from Ron and Hermione and began reaching for her glass when her earlier observations came back to the forefront of her mind.  Stilling, she slowly lifted her tired eyes and took in the large room once more - took in the grim expressions that dotted many a face, including the friends that filled their table.  More importantly, she noticed the absence of a certain raven-haired teen.  "What's happened?  Where's Harry?" she asked, her eyes leveling on the teens who sat opposite of her.

    At her words, a small shudder seemed to go through Hermione as Ron gently pulled her against his side.  "Harry had another vision during the night," he explained, his expression the grimmest that she had ever seen on his freckled face.  "Azkaban has fallen," he whispered, his words causing many a witch and wizard to stiffen as they overheard his grim announcement.

    Confused, Buffy threw a glance down the table to where Giles was sitting, engrossed in conversation with the elder Weasleys and looking much like Xander had spilled something on his favorite book.  "So... I'm guessing that this isn't a good thing," she hazarded as Harry suddenly folded into the vacant seat beside her, Sirius squeezing his godson's shoulder before trailing past and joining the other adults at the far end of the table.

    "Azkaban is the wizarding prison where all of Voldemort's followers that have been captured are being held," he explained, having arrived just in time to overhear her question.  And at his friends' concerned gazes, he quickly waved his hand in assurance, signaling that beside the normal splitting headache, he was as good as ever.  After all, Sirius had somehow even managed to spring him from Madam Pomfrey's care - an act that said something in and of itself.

    "But what's worse," Ron added as he threw a concerned glance at Harry, "is that means that You-Know-Who has the dementors on his side again."

    Sighing, Buffy turned to Harry and noticed how Ron's words seemed to make his pale face even paler as she searched out his hand beneath the table and squeezed it gently.  As he turned to her and offered her a wan smile, she quickly returned her attention back to the others.  "And once again, I'm taking that this isn't a good thing," she noted wryly before quickly pushing her pride aside.  "Okay, I'll bite.  What's a dementor?"

    And just as she knew it would, Buffy's question quickly broke Hermione out of her silence as she straightened, absently brushing a wave of auburn hair from her shoulder as she looked every bit the professor she was destined to be.  "A dementor is a dark magical creature that is the opposite of everything that is good," she explained, her tone clipped.  "Just its presence is enough for everything to go cold as it sucks out every happy memory that you've ever had.  In addition, a dementor's kiss is the muggle equivalent of the death sentence as it sucks out your soul and leaves you worse than dead," she explained brusquely, her eyes refusing to turn towards Harry.

    As Hermione fell silent, Ron quickly took up the mantle of explanation.  "It's what makes a wizarding prison so horrible," he murmured, his voice falling to a whisper.  "With nothing but dementors for guards, the prisoners are forced to relive their worst memories over and over again, with no happy memory to counter it.  Eventually, the prisoner goes crazy."

    "There's only ever been one escape from Azkaban, and that's Sirius," Hermione added as Buffy turned and looked down to where the aforementioned wizard was heavily immersed in conversation with the other adults, all grim-faced.

    "Sirius was in prison?" she asked, her brow scrunching in confusion.

    Sighing, Harry felt all eyes turn to him as he reluctantly took up that particular explanation.  "After my parents were killed, the man who betrayed them to Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, framed Sirius for his supposed murder as well as a lot of muggles.  Even Remus was convinced that Sirius was guilty and he has only been proven innocent a few years back when we were able to capture Peter and send him to Azkaban."

    "So this Peter guy is now back with Moldy-Wart with all the other creeps we busted a few weeks back," Buffy surmised, finally understanding the thick feeling of gloom that seemed to blanket the room.  "How long was Sirius in your prison place?" she asked, switching back to the earlier conversation before anyone pointed out the fact that Harry's greatest enemy, one Draco Malfoy, was now among the free as well.

    "For twelve years," Harry returned, his voice soft as all eyes once more turned to secretly watch his godfather.  "He was able to stay sane partly because he was really innocent, but mainly because while in his animagus form, he was buffered from the effects of the dementors."

    Silently, Buffy inspected Harry's godfather with a critical eye.  And as though the wizard somehow knew that he was being watched, Sirius slowly turned away from the others and locked gazes with the small slayer, blue and green meeting each other as she was floored by a wave of understanding.  For so long she had puzzled over the haunted look that always seemed to be on the edges of his gaze... a haunted look that she believed that she would forever carry.  And they both shared that haunted gaze because they had both been enclosed, had both been imprisoned for far too long away from the ones that they loved. 

    Somber eyes met somber eyes until Buffy broke the exchange with a small, genuine smile that was returned in kind before she returned her attention once more back to the trio.  "So this means that Moldy-Wart is gonna use the dementia things against us," Buffy stated, bringing the group's doubts and fears to the forefront of the conversation.  And as a thick silence fell over their little area of the table, Buffy had her answer.  Shrugging away the possible addition of strange forces in the way that she handled all opponents, the petite slayer turned back to her plate and dug in with a gusto that seemed a point of contradiction to her small frame.  "I wonder if their freaky-ness will affect me," she mumbled thoughtfully around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, done just the way that she liked them.

    Feeling somehow reassured by her obvious disinterest in what was to come, Harry slowly shook his head and shared a look of amusement with his friends.  "Well, if you're serious about being curious, then I think I know of a way to find out," he stated, Buffy's curious green eyes turning to him.  "Just meet me in Lupin's classroom before dinner tonight."

    "It's a date-"

    "Double," Hermione quickly interjected as she threw Harry a puzzled gaze.  "A double date," she expanded before quickly linking arms with Ron.  After all, knowing Harry as well as she did, she had no doubt that whatever he was going to attempt in the Professor's classroom was most assuredly against the rules and would undoubtedly require she and Ron... well, more specifically, Hermione herself to get them all out of trouble.  It's what she did best.

    "So, what's the grand plan?" Buffy asked as she stepped into the empty classroom, the waning sunlight filtering through the tall, dormer windows and flooding the room with a reddish light.  As she knew they would, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were already there, standing in a small circle before Professor Lupin's desk and obviously deep in debate amongst each other.  "Or did I come at a bad time?" she asked, hesitating now near the doorway as all eyes turned towards hers.

    "No, perfect timing," Harry countered before throwing a cross glance at his two friends, both of whom looked suitably frustrated at having their questions thwarted.  "Ron and Hermione were just showing their impatience to learn the same thing," he added in way of explanation as Buffy stepped fully into the room, her eyes drifting about the empty class before settling on himself, her brow arching in just the right manner to voice her question without having to repeat herself.  "Right, so I overheard Remus telling Sirius that he had a boggart in his cupboard that he was going to show some of the younger students later this week," he quickly explained, nodding towards the cupboard that sat against the far wall opposite of them.

    Despite feeling as though she had asked this question far too many times today, Buffy nevertheless took up the role that she knew was expected of her.  Somehow, she supposed that it went along with being the new kid on the block - especially when aforementioned new kid was still being introduced to the wizarding world.  "Okay, so what's a boggart?" she asked, sighing softly as she crossed her arms across her chest.  "I thought that you were going to show me a-"

    But before Buffy could have yet another opportunity to slaughter the dementor's name, Ron quickly broke in, a large grin lifting his lips.  "Harry, that's brilliant!" he stated before clapping his friend on the back.

    Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend, Hermione quickly turned to the shorter girl.  "A boggart is a magical creature that tends to hide in small, dark places," she explained with another quick nod at the cupboard that seemed to so fascinate the other two.  "They're mostly harmless, but when confronted they turn into that person's greatest fear-"

    "And it just so happens that Harry's greatest fear is a dementor," Ron finished with an even larger smile as Harry began to flush at his friend's words.

    Inwardly groaning at his bluntness, Harry fixed Ron with a fierce glare even as Buffy turned her concerned green eyes to his face.  "Not exactly how I was going to explain it," he muttered crossly as Hermione elbowed Ron sharply.

    "Are you sure you want to do this?" Buffy asked, ignoring Ron's muffled protest to his girlfriend's lecture on tact even as Harry's hand found hers.  After all, it was never easy for someone to face down their greatest fear - a fact that she was well aware of, even as a part of her puzzled over the idea.  She had faced down so much that she couldn't help but wonder what her worst fear was.  The Master?  Angelus?  Acathla?  The Mayor?... Lyle?  Grimacing at the memories that the simple thought brought about, Buffy quickly forced herself back to the present.

    Shrugging his shoulders almost casually, Harry turned his eyes to the cupboard that sat so innocently against the far wall.  He knew that Remus would have his hide if he knew what they were about to do.  "Remus said that the dementors affect me so much worse than the others because I've had to deal with more... difficult things, in my past," he explained absently before returning his attention to his friends.  "But it's no big deal," he added hastily, sharing a knowing look with Ron and Hermione.  "I had the chance to deal with dementors a great deal in my third year when they were looking for Sirius."

    "Hey, you guys are the experts," Buffy returned evenly, burying her lingering doubts and allowing Ron to pull she and Hermione to the side of the room, well out of the way of the cupboard.

    "You have to stay back so that you don't confuse the boggart," the redhead offered in way of explanation as Harry squared his shoulders and moved across the room, stilling before the cupboard door.

    Sighing softly, Harry worked on schooling his thoughts and emotions, prepping himself for the screams that he was bound to hear.  He had done this before, repeatedly, and he knew what to expect.  And in a strange way that he was hesitant to give voice to... he almost looked forward to this encounter.  He was only a baby when his mum and dad were killed, dying to protect him, and he was far too young to have any real memories of them.  Even though the sounds he heard when faced with a dementor were the sounds of his mother begging for his life and her dying screams... it was at least a part of her that he desperately clung to.  For even though stretched in pain, the first time he had faced a dementor was the first time that he heard his mother's voice.

    With that thought to carry him, Harry reached forward with a steady hand and turned the cabinet door, pulling it open and stepping back quickly even as the dementor seemed to fold itself out of the cupboard.  Instantly the room seemed to darken as a deep cold filled his veins like ice, and as the black robed creature towered above him, Harry allowed his parents' cries to echo over him.... only to be muffled by the sound of Voldemort's cold voice.  Kill the spare!  And then came Cedric Diggory, his voice echo-y and distant.  Harry... take my body back, will you?  Take my body back to my parents!  And then, worst of all, came the voices of Fred and George Weasley - one raised in an agonizing scream while the other begged for his brother's life, begging for relief.  Drowning out everything and losing himself in their agony.

    As Harry's face paled of all color and his legs gave out beneath him, Buffy felt the cold grip her from her place against the wall.  Shuddering, she found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from the dark hood of the creature that seemed to suck every good thing from her miserable life in one fell swoop.  All that remained were the pain and the memories.  Look away.  Oh Baby, please look away. -  You now belong to the Centre.  You belong to me. - Look away...

    But even as the memories threatened to overwhelm her, Buffy steadfastly locked them away, just as she did each night in the witching hours when they tried to consume her.  Gasping, she tore her eyes away from the dementor and focused on Harry, perched on his knees just before the creature and seemingly lost to the world.  "Is this.. is this supposed to happen?" she asked, trying and failing to steady her voice as she glanced at the two that stood beside her, both looking as pale and shaky as she felt.

    "N-no... but.." Hermione began, her voice dying away as she groaned loudly.  "But as Harry said, he hasn't faced a dementor since third year-"

    "-and a lot has happened since then," Ron finished for her, his eyes growing even wider as the dementor began advancing on their downed friend.

    "Oh, I don't think so," Buffy muttered as the thing extended one skeletal hand towards Harry.  And then, before the others could stop her she was crossing the room in a few quick strides and quickly dropping down into a defensive crouch before him.  Which was when the thing seemed to shift as a loud crack echoed in the room, a puff of smoke momentarily blinding them all.  When the smoke disappeared, Buffy idly became aware of the sun once more shining upon them and the warmth infusing her skin - but all of that became something akin to background noise as she finally found out first hand what her worst fear was.  And it turned out that it was neither the Master, Angelus, Acathla, the Mayor, nor even Lyle.  It was worse.

    Slowly straightening, Buffy examined the girl that stood before her - the face that she knew so well.  After all, she stared at that face every day in the mirror - the tanned skin, the long blond hair pulled back into a tight French braid, her black utilitarian clothes all but screaming the rigidity of her posture.  But worst of all - worse than seeing herself in the unfamiliar clothes... the worst part was the deadened look in her green eyes.  As a heavy silence engulfed the room, Buffy knew that the others were just as transfixed as she was.  But as the double crouched low in a familiar stance, Buffy found the spell broken as she mimicked herself.  And then, before anyone realized truly what was happening, they were flying at each other in a flurry of moves that were too quick for the mortal eye to follow.  Parrying, ducking, kicking, swinging, jumping, arching, flipping, pounding - Buffy and the double fought with a ferocity that she usually reserved for the most vile and evilest of the creatures that she could encounter, and each fist that got through her defenses was like a blow to her very soul.

    How long the fight lasted, none could truly say as the others remained transfixed by the fight that seemed more like a deadly dance.  Buffy was fighting herself, and while that should have meant that both opponents were equal in strength and agility and that neither could win such a battle, it quickly became apparent that she was losing.  Even though the double's every move was her own, Buffy was getting her ass kicked by herself for the sole reason that Buffy was human with human emotions to control her.  Her double... her double might as well of been dead and merely animated by the magic that surrounded her.  But the truth was so much worse than magic, for in the height of the battle, Harry could almost swear that he could see a spark of something behind those deadened eyes.

    Grunting as her double slammed her back against the wall and then followed with a quick jab to her midsection, Buffy felt something crack as her eyes lifted and locked on her own deadened green eyes.  This was what the others had seen when they had faced her back in Sunnydale.  Those eyes were the last thing that Quentin Travers and his merry little band of Council members had seen before she had tore through them, limb by limb.  This was almost the last thing that Giles had ever seen.  This was Buffy at her most primal level, controlled by someone else and dealing out death like she was Death's minion.  This was her.

    With a strangled cry Buffy pushed her double back and then spun in a high kick that knocked the double back and to the floor.  And then she was on her, her legs straddling her own body and her fists flying down and raining blows upon her own face, breaking skin and spilling her own crimson blood.  Yet even as her own green eyes stared up at her, Buffy realized a hard truth.  This wasn't just her worst fear for she didn't just fear herself.  She hated herself.  She hated this double before her more than she had ever hated anyone before - more than she had even hated the man that had stolen her mother from her.  She understood now more than ever how Angel could possibly spend a century suffering guilt for crimes that he had never committed.  Those crimes had been committed by Angelus, but they had been committed with his hands.  His fangs.  Likewise, her crimes, while arguably not her own, were more her crimes than anyone could dare to argue.  She remembered the feeling of her hands landing blows upon innocent bodies and she remembered watching their pain.  She was there for it all, just as Angel had been for Angelus' reign of terror.  And with this realization her hold on the real world slipped as she became lost to everything but the girl that she mercilessly pummeled... as she pummeled herself.

    Rooted in spot by horror, it took a strangled cry from Hermione as Buffy's hand paused from her crushing blows long enough to slide a knife from the small of her back for Harry to finally break free of the paralysis that had rooted them all.  Even as the small Slayer lifted the knife and began arcing it down towards her double's chest Harry was already raising his wand, his mind shouting out the incantation and begging his mouth to follow suit.  "Riddikulus!" he cried, his words causing the double to disappear in a flash of smoke and sending Buffy careening forward until she was staggered on her hands and knees, the knife gripped so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were turning white.  As his friends tried to move towards her, Harry quickly restrained them, his solemn eyes watching as her small body trembled, a curtain of blond hiding her face as the steady drip of her own blood echoed in the thick silence.

   The silence stretched from seconds into minutes, and still Harry refused to allow his friends to go near, even as his own body screamed at him to go to her.  But with her hand still locked so tightly on the blade, he knew that to approach her would most likely mean death to any of them.  No, instead they had to wait for her to find control once more, and so wait they would.   Finally, after what felt like hours Harry's sharp eyes watched as her breathing seemed to steady and as her hand seemed to relax slightly.  "Buffy?" he asked, his voice sounding sharp and loud even to his own ears as both Ron and Hermione jumped at the unexpected noise.  "Are you-"

   "I'm fine," she whispered, her voice haggard and rough as she slowly released her death grip on her knife, falling back on her knees.  Shaking her head slightly, Buffy lifted a trembling hand and wiped it absently at the wetness she felt trailing from her nose, her hand coming away smeared with blood.

   "You're hurt," Harry corrected as he finally made his way to her side, picking his path amongst the debris of smashed desks and overturned chairs.  Frowning, he settled on his knees opposite the petite slayer and forced her chin to raise until he could meet her green eyes.  What he saw in them caused his heartbeat to quicken - for even now she didn't truly seem to be with them.  Sighing, he slowly lifted a hand and gently traced a finger over a long gash that oozed blood above her left eye, adding to the blood that streamed from her nose.  "It may be broken," he murmured, her skin already beginning to bruise and swell.

   "I think there's a broken rib or two as well," Buffy acknowledged, hissing between her teeth as her fingers probed her aching midsection.

   "We should get you to the hospital wing," Hermione offered, her voice tentative as she knelt beside the two.

   "No - no hospitals," Buffy quickly argued, her voice cracking as she turned pleading eyes to Harry.

   "Well I can go get Gi-"

   "No Giles, either," Buffy cut in, her eyes never leaving Harry's.  "I just need to get back to my room.  We have a kit there," she murmured, her eyes drifting away as she lifted one hand to grip the edge of a desk beside her.  Hissing, she struggled to pull herself up, nearly falling as both Ron and Harry hurried to her side, one going under either arm and helping her to her feet.

   "Hermione, make sure no one is coming," Harry quickly ordered, his dark eyes meeting her hazel only briefly before she nodded curtly and hurried ahead of them.  And together, he and Ron helped Buffy on the slow trek back to her and Giles' shared rooms.

   "So your worst fear is yourself," Ron finally murmured, noticing the way that Buffy seemed to stiffen at his side.

   "That wasn't me," she returned, her voice a soft whisper.  "That was the Slayer."

To be continued...