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October rolled around quickly, the time going faster than anyone had expected. Ron had been made the newest Gryffindor Keeper, much to his very real excitement. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Ron so excited as when Ron had found out about his new position on the Quidditch team. And, despite the early morning training sessions that were being enforced by the new Gryffindor captain Angelina Johnson, Ron was permanently grinning.

The gang still fixated on finding out who Voldemort’s ‘son’ was. They’d been going through the Slytherin’s one-by-one and they still hadn’t found anything. On the first Saturday of the month when they’d been holed up in the library, they heard a sneering voice that they hadn’t heard in nearly a month.

“Potty, Weasel, Mublood,” Draco greeted them snidely. He turned his attention to Buffy. “Slayer.”

“Ferret Boy,” Buffy replied easily. She didn’t want to know how Draco Malfoy had found out about the Slayer thing, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of her reacting to his revelation.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. Crabbe and Goyle loitered behind him, looking threatening.

Draco had obviously been expecting Buffy to get flustered and start denying it. Obviously the other three already knew about her.

“I want a rematch,” Draco said.

Buffy sighed ad stood up.

“Do you really think you can take me?”

“A proper rematch,” Draco said. “Wands only.”

“Sure. When?”

“No time like the present,” he replied.

Hermione’s eyes widened. They couldn’t!

“In the library?” Hermione cried.

Buffy paused. They were bound to get caught if they stayed there.

“What about in that duelling arena that we used when that git Lockhart was here,” Draco suggested.

It was agreed upon and the seven of them moved out of the library and headed towards the room that housed the duelling arena. Buffy and Draco mounted the platform and bowed formally to each other. They turned and walked five paces before turning to face each other.

“No restrictions?” Draco asked.

“Use and unforgivable and you’re gone,” Buffy replied. “Same winnings as before?”

“’Til Christmas,” Draco said.

Buffy nodded. “Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?”

“Eve.”

“Agreed.”

“Count of three,” Draco said.

“Three, two, -”

“Expelliarmus!”

Buffy had been prepared for Draco to cheat and had ducked into a roll to avoid the path of the spell. Still crouching, she took aim at Draco.

“Rictusempra!”

It hit him mid-chest, sending him sprawling backwards. Draco doubled over, starting to laugh uncontrollably. Buffy grinned and aimed her wand at him again. “Finite Incantatum!” Draco stopped laughing and took a moment to compose himself.

He shot two different spells at her in quick succession.

“Impedimenta! Stupefy!”

She managed to avoid the first, but she hadn’t been prepared for the second. She held up a hand, her palm flat. Without knowing what she was even doing, she cried out “Reflect!”

The spell hit her hand without even giving her the slightest of tingles. The beam of the spell shot back towards Draco sending him sprawling to the ground once more.

The five spectators looked at Buffy in shock. Her eyes were wide and it was obvious that she hadn’t been expecting her counter-spell to work.

“You’re cheating!” Draco accused. He didn’t know how exactly she had managed to cheat, but he was certain that she wasn’t playing fairly.

“There weren’t any restrictions, Malfoy,” she replied easily, surprised that her voice wasn’t shaking. “Except on the unforgivables, and I have yet to use one of those.”

Hermione, Harry and Ron nearly cheered at the way Draco had been beaten at his own game. They managed to hold back their enthusiasm though and settled on grinning widely at each other. They loved it when Draco got his own back.

Draco glared and re-aimed his wand. “Densaugeo!”

“Relashio!” The two spells hit and bounced off each other, thankfully missing their friends beside them.

Draco panicked and suddenly an idea hit him. “Serpensortia!”

A six foot long snake shot from the end of his wand. Draco was incredibly satisfied to see Buffy shuffled back a little. Harry stepped forwards o try and talk to the snake, but before he could even mount the platform, the door burst open, startling all of them.

Snape.

He looked furious.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?” he demanded.

Draco was quick to jump in before any of the others could.

“Potter was bragging about being a Parselmouth, sir,” Draco said, sending a smirk at Harry. “We just came in here a moment ago and saw the whole thing. We were just telling them that they shouldn’t be in here.”

“Bull!” Buffy cried angrily.

Snape turned to look at her and Buffy nearly winced when she saw the anger in his eyes.

“I’d watch your language Miss Summers,” Snape said icily. “I’m not sure what the American schools teach, but here, we don’t use that sort of language.”

In all the confusion of Snape bursting in, no one had been watching Draco’s snake which had made its way to Snape’s feet. It lifted its head as though it was about to strike at the Professor. Buffy and Harry noticed it at exactly the same time.

“STOP!”

The snake stopped in its tracks at the simultaneous commands in parseltongue from above it. Snape looked down and jumped away from the snake, yelping in an undignified manner as he did. He glared at the two people who had last spoken to the snake and grabbed both of them by the arms.

“You two are lucky that you aren’t in my house,” Snape said angrily. “However, this is serious business. I believe the Headmaster will be interested to hear what you two have to say for yourselves.”

Draco just smirked as Buffy and Harry were dragged out the door. Hermione and Ron turned to glare at the pale silver-haired boy.

“Were you born this big a git Malfoy or was that just something your father taught you?” Ron asked.

Draco glowered and stepped forward, jumping off the platform to get within inches of Ron.

“At least my father isn’t an embarrassment to wizards,” he retorted angrily.

“At least Ron’s father isn’t some sheep trying to get a crumb of attention off someone who was defeated by a one-year-old,” Hermione added, surprised by the vehemence and confidence in her voice.

“I’d comment on your father Granger, but we all know he was nothing more than a filthy Muggle,” Draco spat out.

“Better a Muggle than a murderer,” Hermione replied steadily.

Draco glared and turned on his heel, walking out, his cloak fanning out behind him dramatically. Crabbe and Goyle turned to follow him out, leaving Ron and Hermione alone. Hermione turned to Ron and hugged him tightly.

“I really hate him Ron,” she whispered.

Ron pressed a kiss to her forehead and gently stroked her hair. “Me too Hermione. Me too.”

Buffy and Harry climbed the stairs to Dumbledore’s office, Snape behind them, making them keep walking. Dumbledore was seated at his large desk, a quill in his hands, parchment laid out in front of him. He looked up from his letter to gaze at the three visitors.

“Professor Snape,” Dumbledore greeted. “To what do I owe the honour of this visit?”

“These two,” Snape spat angrily, “think they are above the school rules.”

Dumbledore looked between the two teenagers who were looking rather guilty. He nodded and turned his attention back to Snape.

“I’ll take it from here Professor,” Dumbledore said.

Snape shot a parting glare at the two students and left the room. Buffy couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Harry grinned, sharing the sentiment.

“Duelling?” Dumbledore asked.

Buffy turned to the Headmaster, shocked.

“How did you-”

“I know everything that goes on in this castle,” he said kindly. “I also knew about the first fight you and Mr Malfoy had. Whilst I don’t condone duelling at all on school premises, I must admit I was pleasantly surprised that you didn’t abuse your victory over him.”

“You mean you thought I would have grabbed the opportunity to annoy him to death when he’d agreed not to retaliate?” Buffy asked.

Dumbledore nodded. “It shows that you’re a good winner. An admirable trait.”

Buffy smiled and couldn’t help but feel slightly victorious. She’d beaten her father once again. “Thank you,” she said.

The Headmaster nodded again and turned to look at Harry.

“I believe Mr Malfoy accused you of conjuring the serpent,” Dumbledore said. “Did you?”

“Of course not sir,” Harry replied. “Malfoy used a Serpensortia curse.”

“A favourite of his if I recall correctly,” Dumbledore mused.

Harry nodded, recalling the incident that had revealed him to be a Parselmouth. That had been in the second year at Hogwarts just before everything had happened down in the Chamber of Secrets with the Basilisk and Tom Riddle.

“Well…I don’t believe that punishment is in order here, Mr Potter,” Dumbledore said. “However, you should have perhaps reminded your friend and Mr Malfoy that duelling is strictly against school rules.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Harry said, feeling a little guilty now that he was in front of Dumbledore. But honestly, he’d really wanted to see Draco be beaten.

Dumbledore nodded. “Quite alright. Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse us.”

Harry shot a look to Buffy, giving her a sympathetic smile. He touched her shoulder gently as he stood and walked out. She watched him leave before turning back to Dumbledore.

“I really am sorry,” she said before he had a chance to start rebuking her.

He just held up a hand to stop her making any more apologies.

“It’s not about that,” Dumbledore said.

“Oh. Then, what is it about?” she asked nervously.

“You’ve been dreaming, haven’t you?” he asked.

Buffy almost breathed a sigh of relief. She had been afraid that he’d been about to tell her to watch herself lest she turn out like her father. She didn’t want those words spoken to her. She hated being reminded of her parentage.

She nodded. “I don’t really know what they’ve been about. Or I do, but…I don’t know how I’ve been dreaming about it. I mean…I’ve had prophetic dreams before but…these seem different.”

“They’re about the past, no doubt,” Dumbledore said.

Buffy nodded. “About Harry. And his parents. They make me feel guilty.”

Dumbledore nodded, having expected as much.

“You have no reason to be guilty for other people’s crimes,” Dumbledore said. “You cannot be blamed for what wasn’t in your hands.”

“They’re Harry’s dreams, aren’t they?” Buffy asked.

“I believe so. You haven’t discussed this with him, I assume,” Dumbledore said.

Buffy shook her head. She hadn’t dared say anything about the dreams to anyone, not even to Giles. She’d been keeping them bottled up, hoping they would go away. She had yet to go a single night without seeing Lily and James Potter trying to protect their son, or watching Cedric Diggory die in a burst of green light.

“Good,” he continued. “I’d suggest keeping it that way.”

“Yes sir.”

“Well then…perhaps you’d best go and see if Mr Weasley’s left any lunch for you.”

Buffy looked at him with surprised eyes. She wasn’t getting punished for the duelling. Well, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She stood up quickly, almost making the seat tip back.

“Thank you sir,” she said. She bolted out the door before Dumbledore could change his mind.

Nagini was torn between returning to its master with what little information it had and staying in hopes of hearing something more concrete than the vague conversation that had just taken place. Whilst there had been hints of what Voldemort wanted to know, it wasn’t definite. Dumbledore hadn’t even addressed the girl by name. Nagini decided to wait, knowing the foul temper that Voldemort would get in if the information turned out to be wrong.

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