All kinds of magic
A/N: Takes place post-Chosen / OotP.
Chapter one: The Prophecy
“Well, this is interesting,” Professor Dumbledore muttered quietly, poring over the ancient volume.
“What?” Professor McGonagall asked excitedly.
“Well, it looks as though we have overlooked somebody, Minerva. Someone very magical indeed.”
“A girl. Muggle born, I believe. It says that her name is of the sun.”
“What does it say exactly?”
“’One lady shall be born in the year of the Dark Lord’s first fall. She shall be born of the darkness, but her name will be born of the sun. Its rise shall be her first, its greatest times, her last. She shall be greater than the Dark Lord ever shall, and greater than the boy who lived ever could.’”
“The Dark Lord must be You-know-who. Then she was born the same year as our present fifth years. And, oh what was the last bit?”
“’ She shall be greater than the Dark Lord ever shall, and greater than the boy who lived ever could.’”
“’The boy who lived’, that has to be Harry Potter. It says she is greater than him? Greater than You-know-who, and Harry?”
“I believe so. But can you decipher this part? ‘Its rise shall be her first, its greatest times, her last.’”
“That’s about her name, surely? ‘Her name will be born of the sun.’ The sun rises, and has a greatest time. Sunrise, that’s Dawn, right? Her first name must be Dawn.”
“But the sun’s ‘greatest times’? What are they?”
“Midday, summer? Summer, that has to be it. Dawn Summer.”
“But it’s a plural, Minerva. Dawn Summers.”
“She must be nearly sixteen by now. How could we overlook her, Albus?”
“I don’t know, Minerva. I just don’t know. We’ll have to find her.”
Meanwhile at Hemery High in LA, the ‘Lady’ in question was sitting in her high school Algebra class, doodling absent-mindedly on her book, not looking at what she was drawing. Her teacher, Mr Nyman, was ranting on about the importance of factorising in quadratic equations.
She wasn’t aware of slipping into a daydream when a scream suddenly jolted her back to reality. Then she realised who had screamed. It was her. Everyone in the room, including Mr Nyman was staring at her.
“Something wrong, Ms Summers?” Mr Nyman asked her sarcastically.
“I - I don’t know. I don’t know why I screamed.”
“What’s this?” He darted forwards and snatched up her book from the desk.
He showed it to Dawn and then to the rest of the class. It was a stylised picture of a cute boy with messy dark hair and glasses. He had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead and a long stick in his hand. She also noticed that the boy was dead, a wound in his stomach, which was leaking blood. Another person, a girl with long dark hair and a satisfied grin on her face was standing by him. She was holding a sword and looked remarkably like Dawn.
“A rather good likeness, don’t you think, Ms Summers? This boy anyone in particular? Or do you just like killing things? You’re so much like your sister, aren’t you?” He dropped his voice so that only Dawn could hear him. “You’re both lazy little bitches who like killing innocent creatures.” He raised his voice again. “Get out of my sight!”
Dawn grabbed her book and shoved her things back into her bag. She took the bag and ran from the room.
Later that day, Buffy met Dawn to go home. Dawn told her everything.
“He called you a bitch! That bastard! I saved his life once!”
“He called you one too. Just look at this.”
Dawn pulled the book out of her bag. She opened it to the right page and gave it to Buffy. Buffy looked at it and grimaced worriedly. She bit her lip and sighed.
“We’d better go see Giles. I’m sure I recognise this boy."