Disclaimer etc. in Part One
Notes: I made up alithiaserum, it’s base is in Greek rather than Latin, but it means truth serum just the same. Nickle Naks were a real candy. Jelly beans if I’m not mistaken. I found mention of them on a website fanfic.net refused to let me put up the address for and can now no longer find.
*************************
“That’s so creepy.”
“Stop it.”
“I can’t. It’s creepy. The way he’s just sitting there, staring and staring and-“
“Shut up before I make you shut up Harry.”
“But ‘Mione-“
Buffy smiled at her friends. “Quit before Hermione turns you into something Harry,” she advised the boy. “And stop worrying about Snape. You’re probably just in his eyeline while he’s thinking.”
Harry gave her an incredulous look. “Just because he thinks you’re the greatest thing since alithiaserum...”
“Why not just veritaserum?” Hermione asked curiously. “Both of them make you tell the truth and veritaserum is far more effective.”
A snort emerged from Harry’s mouth. “Veritaserum is controlled by the ministry and is illegal to make, whereas alithiaserum is legal and it was invented by a Slytherin.” Silence reigned for a few minutes after that as they all took notes from the professor’s lecture and Harry found himself under a silencing charm before he could point out that Snape was looking at him with that same creepy considering look again.
Then, in a lull, Buffy asked, “Why truth potions?” Harry and Hermione stared at her for several seconds trying to figure out where the remark had come from. “Normally people say ‘the best thing since sliced bread.’ I get that you want something different for Snape, but why truth serums specifically?”
Grouchily glaring at Hermione, who was looking at him curiously, Harry didn’t speak. His friend finally prompted, “Aren’t you going to answer?”
It was that moment that Snape chose to address his question to Harry, “Well, Mr. Potter. Since you appear to already know everything about the classwork, perhaps you can tell me what effect the addition of fwooper feathers would have when combined with the restorative potion we are discussing.”
“Given the presence of both the boomslang skin and hen’s teeth they will combine to provide an amount of magical energy restoration as well as simple physical energy,” Harry replied. As a malicious smirk crossed Snape’s face Harry closed his eyes waiting for the blow. It never came. Snape, with a visible effort, seemed to curb his tongue and turned away.
He swept down the aisle to stunned looks from all the NEWT students in his classroom. “What you did not mention Potter, is that such combinations have a nasty tendency to have minor hallucinogenic effects. If taken too frequently, they can eventually cause a permanent dementia. Because of both of these effects and the ease with which fwooper feathers can be acquired, the making of this potion is strictly regulated by the ministry and anyone found with evidence of making this potion, unless he or she is licensed to do so, can be arrested and seriously fined.”
“I’m sure *you* could find a way around those restrictions professor.” Cassiepeoia Campbell of Slytherin smiled winningly at the teacher, angling herself slightly so that Snape could see down her strategically unbuttoned blouse from where he stood. An amused snort sounded from Buffy’s direction. It quite easily destroyed the other girl’s attempt at seduction, not that anyone believed it. Snape, after all, was not the most attractive male in the school and Campbell was certainly not intellectual enough to “appreciate him for his mind” or some such crap along those lines.
A dark look crossed Snape’s face, causing those around Buffy to disassociate themselves from her as much as humanly possible. “Do you have something to say Miss Summers?” He inquired silkily, “Or is your opinion of my intellect do low that you believe me incapable of understanding that as well?”
“Please,” Buffy said with a roll of her eyes. “Like you believe that I think you’re stupid anymore than anyone else in this class thinks you’re stupid.” Looking mildly baffled as he worked his way through that sentence in order to determine whether or not it was an insult, he remained silent as Buffy continued. “I was just thinking that clearly she doesn’t understand that your position as a Potions Master isn’t just some teaching thing but gives you the right to brew almost any potion ever invented under the law. *You* have no need to get around that law the way that Nestor Fairefaxe did in 1893 when he figured out that boiling the boomslang skin in rose water for seventy-two hours in an iron cauldron with a pure platinum bottom.”
Snape merely smirked at both girls, Campbell looking extremely pissed Buffy had screwed up her bid to raise her mark, Buffy merely shrugging. As he turned back to continue his lecture, Buffy said, “So?”
“So what?” Harry replied, puzzled.
“So why alithiaserum?” she inquired.
Harry shot her a grouchy look. “If you must know, it’s because he’s always threatening me with veritaserum.”
“Oh Harry!” said Hermione, looking shocked. “You should have said something-“
“Why?” he asked. “If he really meant it he’d’ve done it already, and since he hasn’t, all anyone can say is that it’s an empty threat like Ron’s threats he’s going to pound Malfoy into a bloody pulp.”
The brunette witch frowned a little, but didn’t say anything more on the subject as Buffy snickered quietly to herself, gaining frowns from the other two. Finally, to break up the little routine of Buffy snickering at the notion of Harry spilling all his secrets to the Potions master under veritaserum and Harry glaring back at her, Hermione inquired, “How do you suppose Ron’s coping with Angel?”
***************
Ron wasn’t coping. He was in a staring contest with a vampire and neither seemed likely to break the deadlock. “So . . . er . . . Angel . . . er . . .” he tried again for the fifth time. He also trailed off for the fifth time. It was Angel who broke the moment finally by speaking.
“Why Buffy . . . isn’t Buffy . . . here?” he inquired.
It took Ron a moment to determine what Angel was asking before he understood. Then he replied, “She’s got class. And before you ask, I didn’t get high enough on my OWLs to take potions at the NEWT level.”
Several seconds of blank looks and blinking later, Angel finally managed to inquire, “Owls? Newt?”
“Ordinary Wizarding Levels and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests,” the redhead replied. “They’re tests that let the teachers know whether we’re good enough to take advanced classes in a subject or whether we should just drop the course. Thing is, you need certain NEWTs if you want to even apply for certain jobs and training programmes.” Ron’s explanation stalled the vampire for several more seconds, but Angel’s comprehension was improving by leaps and bounds and it didn’t take him long to understand.
He leaned forward, looking interested, and asked Ron, “What courses are you taking?” That spurred Ron into chatting about his transfiguration class, charms, care of magical creatures and defence against the dark arts. That led to the discussion of possible job options and by the time Hermione, Harry, Buffy and Ginny had arrived at the Room of Requirement, Quidditch.
“... But, if you had the beaters set up over there by the goals, then they could score after the chasers ran through the other team’s lines there.” Angel was saying as the others walked in.
Ron looked positively gleeful. “Hey Harry! What d’you think of this play Angel came up with?”
Several silent seconds passed before Harry walked over and lost himself in discussion of the finer points of Quidditch strategy. Ginny joined them a moment later to toss in the perspective of a chaser and the four became completely oblivious to any other topics.
“Boys!” said Hermione in indignation.
Buffy was smiling at the sight of Angel communicating almost normally with her new friends and it took her moment to catch what Hermione had just said. “And girl,” she prompted, indicating Ginny. A harrumph was her response from the frizzy-haired witch. Buffy just laughed and suggested they do their homework so they could mock the others later. Hermione perked up at the idea then fervently denied it was over the opportunity to mock her best friends later.
************************************
Buffy was ecstatic that evening as she allowed Angel to pull her into bed. He didn’t seem to truly remember who or what he was, but his personality was shining through. Only time would bring back her boyfriend, but she could see the light at the end of the tunnel now. That and Angel’s enthusiastic face as he climbed on top of her, clearly planning to do all sorts of wicked things to her.
“Angel,” she said softly. He looked at her inquiringly. He still didn’t speak much with her, the bond of love they shared allowing her to understand his wordless commentary. He also didn’t need her to speak as the implicit words of love and happiness at his recovery were easy for him to see in her eyes. For a moment, he put his plans on hold just to look at his mate as she lay beneath him.
One word escaped him, carrying with it all the love, worship and need he felt when he so much as thought of her. Buffy understood how he felt because at the animalistic core of her, the part that was more hunter and slayer than human, Buffy also felt that visceral connection to her mate. Soulmates was all very well, but this went deeper than that. It was something that touched a place more of the Earth than the soul. Something primeval. Then they were sinking into the softness of the bed and there was no thought, only feeling.
“Buffy.”
*******************************
It was the next morning that Hermione walked straight into the Room of Requirement to get Buffy for her last weekend of makeup tests. As she pushed the door open, she was startled to realise that Buffy didn’t seem to be up yet. It got worse when she finally looked at the bed and spotted two clearly naked bodies twined together, all the naughty bits covered from her perspective, but very few of them covered by covers. Most were covered by the simple expedient of someone having a hand or leg in an interesting place.
As she watched, stunned into immobility by the sight before her, Angel began to move. Slowly he woke, and Hermione was transfixed as he blinked, stiffened, stared down at the girl lying beside him on the bed saying, “Buffy?” in an incredulous sounding voice.
Squeaking before she could suppress it, Hermione silently cursed her luck and fate when Angel’s eyes moved up to look at her in clear bafflement. “I . . . Uh . . . Where am I?” he asked. Hermione felt her eyes widen a little more. There was hesitancy there, but it wasn’t the stuttering of before where he was just searching for the words to express himself. He was hesitant because he, like Hermione, had no idea what he should be saying or doing at that moment.
“Angel?” she squeaked. Then she winced because she’d squeaked.
Angel looked even more baffled. “Do . . . I . . . When did we meet?” he inquired. What truly unnerved Hermione was the way he had managed to sound like a true Victorian gentleman, barring the American accent, when he’d spoken. She fled, leaving him alone in the room of requirement.
“Hermione?” Harry asked as she hurtled down the hallway. She came to a halt and stared at him, slightly wild-eyed. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah ‘Mione,” Ron added. “You look awful.” A moment later, “Ouch! What Ginny?”
The diminutive redhead stared at her brother for a moment. “You are an idiot.” She informed him solemnly. “’You look awful’ honestly!”
“There’s something wrong with Angel again and I’ve never been so humiliated in my life!” Hermione wailed in response. Her friends just looked at her silently, clearly wondering if the day had finally come that all the stress had gotten to the smartest witch in Hogwarts and she’d snapped.
Ginny came up with a reasonable question, “What’s wrong with Angel?”
**************************
What was wrong with Angel was that the last thing he could remember was being in Yorkshire and his annoyance at being diverted there on his way back to Sunnydale. He couldn’t remember how he wound up in the room he was in, where he was or, worst of all, how he’d wound up in bed with Buffy, naked, both of them smelling like they’d slept with each other. Not that it was bad that they might have done so, but the fact that he couldn’t remember it . . .
Then she was stirring slowly in his arms, stretching, and turning over to look at him with a smile. “Morning,” she said. “I really hate to have to go, but I have the rest of those makeup tests to do and the headmaster won’t give me much more leeway on them-“ Buffy broke off abruptly. “Angel? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Angel stared at her, feeling a little wild. “I have no idea where we are - clearly not Sunnydale because you’re talking about a headmaster - I don’t know how we wound up sleeping together, or why I can’t remember it or the girl who was just in here. Who was she Buffy? What’s going on?”
After a long pause, Buffy asked him, “What do you remember last? The date?”
“August 25th,” he replied. “Buffy what’s going on?” She looked anxious and happy at the same time.
“August,” she said softly, “But you can remember everything before that? You, me, Xander, Willow, Giles?”
Unsure of what was going on, Angel tried to keep things light. “I’m Angel, the vampire, you’re Buffy the vampire Slayer, Xander and Willow are your best friends and go to school with you. Willow’s a redhead and Xander’s an idiot.” That got a giggle out of his slayer and Angel felt something in his chest loosen a little. At least things weren’t so bad that she couldn’t laugh. “Giles is your watcher. Buffy please . . .” He gazed at her pleadingly. Something about the way she’d said August made him worried.
She swallowed. “I don’t know everything Angel, but you just appeared here a couple weeks ago and you were . . .” Buffy didn’t know how to tell him what had happened but she plunged on anyway. “You . . . you were like an . . . an animal or something.” It had to be forced out. The look on his face as she said that told her he was imagining the worst.
“Did I . . . I didn’t . . . Buffy tell me I didn’t . . .” He couldn’t force the words out. They were too ugly. Too horrifying. The notion that he could have done that to her was unbearable.
“No!” Wrapped around him, Buffy set herself to putting his fears to rest. “No. You never did anything to me that I didn’t want and agree to. I promise Angel. Nothing bad happened. Not then.”
“What do you mean not then?” he asked. “Buffy did I do anything?”
“No,” she told him firmly. “What I meant was that you showed up looking like you’d been tortured. The only thing we could think of was that you had suffered some kind of trauma that was making you act like that.”
“Who’s we? Where are we Buffy? I know this isn’t Sunnydale-“
Cutting him off Buffy said, “I’ll try to explain Angel.” She sat down and patted the bed next to her. “You see, there are witches that are born with really big internal magical batteries. Witches like Amy’s mom need to call on gods and stuff to give them the power to do things. Witches like me just need to take the magic we already have and push it out.”
“Witch?” was the only thing Angel could say.
“Witch,” Buffy confirmed. “The second kind have a sort of sub-society thing. They hide from the rest of the world and a lot of them totally live in the dark ages. They’re worse than Giles. I mean quills? Really! It’s like they haven’t even heard of the ballpoint pen or anything. At least Giles had a phone.”
“Witch?” he asked again. Buffy sighed and explained everything to him. About the wizarding world, her father, Hogwarts and magic school. By the time she was finished telling him everything, including the Statute of Secrecy that didn’t allow anyone to tell any muggles about magic unless they were immediate family to the witch or wizard in question, he was completely dumbfounded.
One unneeded breath later he gathered himself and looked at her. “So let me get this straight,” he said. “You are a witch, but different from all the other witches I’ve ever met before.”
“Yep.”
“There’s a whole underground society of witches and wizards who are living in the Middle Ages by the technology they use and they have a standardised magical education system.”
“Yeah.”
“So that girl who was just in here is one of your classmates at this magic school in Scotland which is in a castle.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh,” Angel replied faintly. “Glad we have that cleared up.”
***************************
Buffy had extracted herself from Angel with the hurried explanation that she had to get to her classes. Especially since she was still a little behind. After extracting a promise from her that she would explain everything over again in more detail later Angel let her go.
The moment she vanished out of the room Angel decided to have a look around. Aware that he was in a castle, Angel decided to stay around the interior and explore a little. After all, this was a school. Even if the teachers weren’t happy with him wandering around it wasn’t like they’d do anything to him. Angel glanced around the room and spotted a chest of drawers. He hurried over and was pleased, although surprised, to discover slacks, sweaters, and everything else in the colours he felt complimented him best and all in the right sizes. He quickly dressed and located the door.
It took much cursing and struggling but Angel finally dragged the door open and stepped into the hall. On the opposite wall there was a tapestry of some nutcase ballet dancing with what appeared to be trolls. Angel stared at in befuddlement and then decided to pass it off as modern art because otherwise his poor brain might have exploded.
Continuing on his way Angel passed several of what appeared to be moving, talking paintings, all of whom stopped once they noticed him and silently watched him pass in a deeply unnerving way. He slipped silently down the corridor until he reached a larger open area. He frowned slightly, then decided to head down one of the staircases in the centre. Just as he reached one it suddenly pulled away, swinging across the intervening space and reconnecting to another landing opposite.
Angel blinked.
This was already unbearably strange for words and he, Angelus the Scourge of Europe, had both dated and apparently slept with the current vampire Slayer. Heck, he’d seen two of them in the same room at the same time. He wondered idly if it was the fact that those other things had the benefit of at least having a sort of ironic humour to them, while this stuff appeared to be thoroughly random, that threw him so much.
He approached a second staircase with some suspicion, but this one remained nicely still. It wasn't until he had reached the bottom, carefully noted the location of the stairs so he could find his way back and turned away that he heard a slight grinding noise behind him. The stairs had just swung away, at the bottom this time, and Angel stared helplessly at the empty space where the staircase had been.
“And who might you be?” Came a smooth voice from behind Angel. “I believe students ought to be in classes, not wandering the halls like. . .”
The man trailed off as Angel turned around. He had heavily oiled hair, similar to the styles worn by men in the '40s and '50s. The difference being that it was long and stringy around the ends, and not the short, tight cuts popular back then. “As you can see,” Angel said, “I am not a student.”
His head inclined, conceding the point, and the man stepped forward. “My name is Severus Snape. Potions Master of Hogwart's. You must be . . .” he paused, as though searching his memory for something. “Angel.” Severus Snape's voice held the same emotions Angel had felt when he'd first met a young woman named Candi.
Smiling slightly, Angel said, “It's short for Angelus.”
“A Catholic bell ritual?” inquired the other man. He seemed startled. “I had thought it was some sort of pet name Miss Summers called you by.”
Sighing, Angel began the tiresome process of explaining the tale of his renaming. Tiresome mainly because of the sheer number of times he had been forced to do so over the centuries. “When my sire changed me, she renamed me 'Angelus'. It was supposed to be the latinate form of 'angel'. Sort of a sick irony,” he told Snape. “When I was human my name was Liam. Liam Shaughnessy.”
“When you were human?” Asked Snape in some startlement. “Miss Summers had left me with the impression that you simply were not human.” He frowned then, remembering something else. “You said your sire named you, but you also mentioned that it was a woman.”
Another moment of exasperation. “I don't invent the terms popularly used. The vampire that changes you into a vampire is your sire. Whether or not they are a woman. I know dam makes more sense,” he added hastily to forestall that point.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the point Snape wished to make. “You are a vampire? Impossible!” he exclaimed in sudden disgust. “If you feel the need not to tell me what you are that is your prerogative, but do not lie to me.”
Blinking, the man who had been a vampire for the last two hundred odd years was slightly taken aback. “Why is it impossible for me to be a vampire?” he inquired.
The other snorted. “Firstly, every schoolchild knows that vampires cannot be awake during daylight except in extraordinary circumstances. Second, they have fangs. Third, even if you were one of those exceptions that would allow a vampire to be awake in daylight, you would have to be a master vampire and those are some of the vilest creatures I have ever laid eyes on and-“
He was cut off as the Angel interrupted. “What. . . that . . . “ he sputtered. Finally getting ahold of himself he said incredulously, “What crappy monster B movies have you been watching? Not even Xander is that ignorant!”
They glared at each other, Angel convinced that this Snape person was either stupid or dangerously misinformed for someone living in the supernatural world, Snape convinced that Angel was a dangerous lunatic playing on the affections of his new favourite student.
“””
Buffy sat down in her transfiguration class, feeling a tad worried. While it would be nice to be fully back on a normal schedule, the fact that Angel couldn’t remember the past several months was a tad worrying. Although all things considered it was preferable to have this amnesiac Angel over the vocabulary-challenged one she’d been dealing with.
Class began with a lecture on conjuring. “As you are all aware, this term we will be studying conjuring both here and in your charms classes with Professor Flitwick. Can anyone tell me why it is this subject is being studied in both classes?”
Hermione’s arm shot into the air with the promptness Buffy had come to expect from her friend. Buffy watched, slightly amused by the way McGonagall was desperately searching for someone that wasn’t Hermione to answer the question. Finally giving in to the inevitable, the teacher turned to her and said, “Yes Miss Granger?”
“There are two methods of conjuring. One is charm-based, while the other is transfiguratively based. Conjuring in charms is, in fact, the creation of an elaborate illusion that convinces anyone who is in contact with it that the item conjured is real. In fact, it has all the effects of the item recreated, except that it will vanish in twenty-four hours, or less if so specified by the caster. There are means of making them last longer-“ She halted her exposition abruptly as her teacher’s glare reminded her that this was a tranfiguration class answer and not a graduate thesis defense on charms. “Anyhow, the transfigurative conjuration is simply a transfiguration of air into whatever one wishes to conjure.”
Cutting her off before she could wander too far into theoretical discussion of things the class would find neither interesting nor helpful, McGonagall said, “Thank you Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor.” Turning back to the class as a whole she continued, “The reason this will take up so much time this term is that air is so unlike the items we will transfigure it into.”
A hand shot up from one Caitlyn Andrews. When acknowledged, she asked, “Why is that important?”
Buffy coughed to hide her amusement. Even she knew that and she sucked at transfiguration. She raised her hand and McGonagall nodded in her direction. “Because like we learn when we’re starting transfiguration, it’s easier to change things into things that are similar in some way.”
McGonagall sighed and elaborated slightly. “It is not that it is theoretically any harder to transfigure a shoe into an apple than an orange into an apple, it is that magic is driven by our perceptions as much as it is driven by the power we put into our spells. It is because it is more difficult for most people to picture the change in form from one object to another when they are unalike than when they are alike. The great difficulty with transfiguring air is that one must force the air to gain a solid form, colour, shape and presence, a feat which is most difficult for the imagination as much as it is resisted by the air in its tendency to revert to its normal state.”
And then they learned the incantation and began to try to make the air form into a needle. By the end of class only Hermione had anything even remotely solid. Harry had grouchily conjured a needle and McGonagall had given him points for his excellent charms work and then taken them away for trying to trick her into thinking he’d transfiguratively conjured. All in all it was a long and unproductive class.
When it was over they left class with Hermione badgering Harry the whole way about how he’d managed to do the charm conjuration so easily, especially when they hadn’t yet covered charm conjuration. Harry was putting her off with one-word answers while trying to get out of Buffy what had happened that morning that had so upset Hermione.
Ginny caught up with them on her way from Charms. She listened for a minute to the two different conversations then broke in. “Hermione, we all know Harry is the best Charms student at the school-“
“Except for you,” Harry put in. “Ginny taught me how to conjure.”
Hermione squeaked. “I have to get to the library,” she moaned.
“Hermione, face it,” Buffy said, “You can’t be the best at everything.”
The brown-haired witch hmphed. “Says the girl that can do no wrong in potions.”
Looking completely incredulous, Ron said, “Have you ever seen her in transfiguration ‘Mione? She’s worse than me.” He suddenly realised what he’d just said and to who. “Buffy? Please don’t kill me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve heard worse,” was her reply. As they turned the corner, they spotted a crowd and some shouting. Suddenly the students all ducked as a violently orange curse flew overhead.
“Chudley Cannon convention going on?” Ginny snarked as they weaved through the crowd to get closer to the altercation.
“Hey!” Ron said.
Buffy was about to break it up when she saw the problem. Angel was vamped out and snarling as he tried to avoid Snape’s skilfully cast curses. Snape was clearly in his element as he threw spell after spell at the vampire. “I will not allow you to injure anyone in this school!” he shouted.
“Expelliarmus!” came the voices of Ron and Harry from behind her. The spells hit Snape hard and he flew through the air to slam into the wall.
Angel froze, noticing for the first time the gathered crowd and his girlfriend. “Buffy?”
“What is going on here?” demanded McGonagall imperiously as she strode through the crowd. “What - Severus!” she exclaimed as she hurried over to her colleague.
“Oh Merlin!” moaned a couple nearby Hufflepuffs, “He’ll kill us all when he wakes up,” continued a third.
Buffy ignored them. “What were you thinking?” she demanded of Angel.
He looked at her, bewildered. “Why doesn’t he think I’m a vampire? How can he believe all that drivel about not being able to be awake during daylight? Next thing you know he’ll say that the only sure way to identify a vampire is by his clothes-“
A wry chuckle escaped Buffy in spite of the whole messy situation. “Sometimes sweetie, it’s the only way to pick ‘em out of a crowd.”
Angel looked like he was going to have a nervous breakdown. It had been too much. Temporal disconnect, waking up with Buffy, talking paintings, amnesia, a castle, witches and wizards, a disturbing and clearly disturbed man, it all pressed at boundaries of his tolerance until he was ready to run through the hallways screaming.
“Mr. Potter, Miss Summers. Why am I unsurprised to find you at the epicentre of the trouble.” Oh. Right. McGonagall. Buffy suddenly recalled the older woman’s presence as she glared down at them. “I’m sure you all know your way to the Headmaster’s office?”
Five teens and one vampire made their way to the gargoyle that blocked the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. Angel leaned over and whispered in Buffy’s ear, “What now?”
She sighed. “We go up there and I convince him that demonically based vampires exist.”
“What?”
Hermione leapt in ready, as always, with a complete explanation. “There are, according to Buffy, more than one type of vampire. The kind that you are, and are therefore familiar with, and the second kind which is known by the wizarding world. They are much like werewolves in that they are victims of a kind of magical viral curse.” When Angel nodded attentively, she continued, ignoring the looks of utter boredom on her friends’ faces. “I have little doubt that Professor Snape did not believe you precisely because he is unaware of the type of vampire that you are and is solely aware of the other . . . species, if you will. That group is the source of many of those things which you would consider to be myth. Those vampires which are created by curse rather than demonic infestation cannot even be awake in daylight until they have reached a particular age. At that point they become rather . . . erm . . .”
When Hermione trailed off Ron cheerfully cut in, “Completely and totally disgusting?”
“Ron!” she said reprovingly.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well it’s true. Remember that one Hagrid asked to drop by for class?” She shuddered expressively.
Buffy winced. “Ew and ew again.” She looked at Angel, “Just imagine the Master if he’d been a little more wrinkly and was slimy to boot.”
“I didn’t need to imagine that Buffy.” The conversation stopped as they reached the gargoyle that stood in front of the entrance to the headmaster’s office. There was a lengthy pause as Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny all exchanged glances. Angel looked on in confusion as they seemed to argue silently about something. Just as he was about to ask why they were standing in front of an ugly statue Hermione heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Bertie Botts Beans.”
“Sherbert Lemons.”
“Chocolate Frog.”
“Fizzing Whizbee.”
“Erm . . . Sugar Quills.”
Angel leaned over as the four teenagers continued to spout off words and combinations he’d never heard before and whispered into Buffy’s ear, “What are they doing?”
Rolling her eyes she replied, “They’re trying to guess the headmaster’s password to his office. It’s apparently always a candy and the students aren’t told it. So if you want to get in to see Dumbledore you have to stand around like an idiot and say all the candies you can think of.”
“Humbugs,” said Harry.
“That’s . . . very odd.” Angel said.
A wry chuckle escaped Harry. “Very true,” he said to Angel as his friends continued rattling off all the candy they could think of. “There are betting pools on how much of it is an act and how much is that he’s simply completely barmy.”
Ginny leaned back, letting Ron and Hermione compete over which could come up with more candy names. “I think he’s completely barmy and acts normal only enough to make people think he’s not barmy.” Then she grinned at Harry. “I’ve got galleons riding on the number of times this year he gets accused of being bonkers by the Ravenclaws.”
Momentarily taken aback with the sheer strangeness of the whole situation Angel decided to join in with the two still trying to work out the password. “Nickel Naks,” he said.
The gargoyle sprang open as was its wont and Hermione looked at Angel impressed. “I hadn’t heard of that candy before,” she commented as they rode the staircase to the office.
Angel shrugged, “Comes from being old,” he replied easily.
They reached the top and before Harry could knock Dumbledore’s voice rang out from behind the door. “Please come in.” They filed into the room and stood face to face with the old headmaster. “Well, this is interesting. You appear to be fully recovered Mr. . . .” He paused, waiting for someone to fill in the blank.
Angel’s eyes narrowed slightly and he concentrated, trying to recall what this man reminded him of. His eyes widened as he realised, and he responded finally with, “Liam Shaughnessy. But I’m called Angel now.”
Dumbledore’s head snapped up and his wand was suddenly trained on the vampire. “I don’t know who you are, but my father made it quite clear that Liam Shaughnessy could not be alive today.”
That was too much. “Angel, don’t pick a fight with Professor Dumbledore. I don’t care who in his family your evil twin killed making him cranky is a bad idea.”
“Cranky?” Ron mouthed to his friends. There was an unusual concept. Dumbledore. Cranky. Not a descriptor used for the irritatingly optimistically cheerful man.
However, Buffy’s statement had sufficiently interested the headmaster that he sat back down and inquired, “Perhaps, Miss Summers, one of you might explain who and what . . . Angel . . . is?”
Choosing that moment to burst into the office, Snape slammed the door open with his usual inimitable flair stating, “Headmaster, there is some . . . thing running around the school claiming to be a vampire. I believe that he is taking advantage of Miss Summer’s inexperience to . . . You!” He whipped out his wand and was about to attack Angel again when Dumbledore stopped him.
“Severus, perhaps we might get Miss Summer’s story before we act rashly.”
Buffy looked at Angel, but he shrugged a little and said, “You’re the one who has more to lose with exposure.” Buffy huffed and rolled her eyes at her boyfriend.
“You’re no help.” She turned to the two men waiting for her explanation. “Okay. So it’s like this. There are two kinds of vampires . . .”
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