Buffy Crossover Fic: An American Slayer in Northern England Part Seven
Disclaimer etc. in Part One
Notes: My first note (I do these as I go) is that I borrowed the idea of the ‘Potter Turn’ from Jeconais’ fantastic Harry/Gabrielle fic “Hope” which can be found on his website. It's over at http://jeconais.fanficauthors.net/ . I’ve also been working on the explanation of Angel’s immunity to the sun for a while now, as well as a means of avoiding the curse’s “true happiness” clause. Anyhow, if the explanation doesn’t make sense I can clarify it in the next instalment. Finally, I hope the quidditch match is all right. After all, what would a Harry Potter inclusive story be without quidditch? Coffee Crisps are chocolate bars. There’s a coffee flavoured toffee in the middle and chocolate around the outside. Yes, they’re a real candy bar.
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Hermione was indeed good. Within two hours she had plumbed the depths of the Restricted Section and had determined how the killing curse worked. She then insisted on using Buffy’s laptop to send an email to Giles describing the complete effects and history of the curse.
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Dear Mr. Giles,
I am a friend of Buffy’s here at her new school. Angel appears to now recall what I believe may have had a significant impact on him as regards his current immunity to sunlight. Insofar as we can tell, Angel was hit by what is colloquially known here as the “Killing Curse.” It is a spell which, when cast at a living target, renders him instantly dead. There is no known way of blocking the curse and there was also only one known survivor until Angel. However, given that Angel is not human or technically alive, this does alter what one might expect of the normal effects of the curse.
The way the Avada Kedavra (this is the incantation used to cast the spell) works is by briefly severing the connection between a person’s soul and his body. It was originally created in an attempt at devising a means of assisting seers and the clairvoyant in entering the astral plane. As you may know, if a person is lost too long on the astral plane his body will die, no matter what physical efforts are made to maintain the physical being. Unfortunately, the Avada separated the soul from the body so dramatically and quickly that it usually essentially “tricked” the body into believing the soul had been lost. When the soul returns to the body mere moments later, the body is dead and there is nothing left for the soul to return to.
From what we understand, Angel believes he had reverted to an animalistic state in order to defend his consciousness under the torture he was enduring. He somehow pressed his demonic vampire being forward in order to force it to take the pain instead of his own consciousness, thus explaining one reason why his memories are so very blurry. He was then struck by the Avada and left for dead. My theory is that somehow, being struck with the Avada has sufficiently altered Angel’s metaphysical being enough to allow him to stand sunlight and other such things.
As this letter is merely a rapid summation of my research, I have attached to this message the pertinent excerpts of the texts in question as well as a more detailed description from Angel of the precise circumstances surrounding the casting. I hope this is useful to your research as we are all most anxious and concerned about Angel.
Sincerely,
Hermione J. Granger
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy could only imagine the look of geeker Giles-y joy on her watcher’s face when Hermione’s research arrived at his end. In the meantime, Hermione had vanished into the library searching for alternate causes again while Harry, Ron and Ginny prepared for their quidditch match. Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw.
Angel had watched some of the late-night Gryffindor practices and had been suitably impressed. He was less impressed with Buffy’s offer to take him flying, informing her that if Man (or vampire) had been meant to fly, he would have had a non-artificial means of doing so. Buffy once more told him, “You know, those new-fangled flying machines are a lot safer than they used to be.”
“I would like to point out,” he replied, “That you are saying they are safer than they were, not that they are, in fact, safe.” Harry, Ginny and Ron were watching this tennis match of words with interest and amusement. “And more than that, just because I admire you all for being able to take a hunk of wood and make it fly while you’re sitting on it, doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re all crazy.”
“Oi!” was Ron’s indignant interjection. Harry just shrugged. “You know they say you’re more likely to get killed while crossing the street than a plane crash.” Angel had no response to that and Buffy grinned at him.
“I’m not going up there and that’s final,” he told her.
And so it was. Instead, two weeks later, Buffy, Angel and a reluctantly-dragged-from-the-library Hermione were ensconced on the Gryffindor sections of the stands watching Harry hurtle toward the ground chased by the new Ravenclaw seeker. As usual the whole game had seemingly paused to watch them hurtle downward. Then the Ravenclaw seeker pulled out of his dive, but instead of flying off to look for the snitch, he seemed to just be watching Harry head down. As Harry pulled out of his Wronski Feint those nearby were able to hear the embarrassed Ravenclaw admit, “I thought you’d seen the snitch. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to pull out in time if I’d kept up any longer.”
Buffy snorted. “Wimp,” she murmured to Angel.
He rolled his eyes at her. “That is just the sort of attitude that explains why people are crazy enough to fly around in the first place.”
“What? If he can’t take the heat he should get out of the kitchen,” Buffy told him. “Besides, you’ll notice I’m not out there even though I could’ve tried out for beater.”
Hermione finally poked her head up from the book she’d taken to the game that she was pretending to read while she ogled Ron in his quidditch leathers. “You mean there’s some school activity you could have done to take out your violent tendencies in a socially acceptable manner and you didn’t take it? Typical.”
“Hey!” Buffy immediately objected. “The only people I hit can take it or they deserve it.”
“Of course. What’s important is that you believe that,” Hermione said absentmindedly as Ron reached to make a save, thus exposing the aforementioned leathers in all their glory.
While Buffy spluttered in annoyance, Angel watched the game go by. He suddenly noticed the Gryffindor team moving into the very same positions he’d hashed out with Ron several weeks before while he’d still been suffering from amnesia. He watched in anticipation as the beaters moved toward the opposing hoops and the three chasers split apart, each of them coming in from a different angle. When the Ravenclaws closed in on the chaser carrying the quaffle, two bludgers hurtled through their formation driving the blue team off. For a moment the chasers circled the confused keeper while the beaters seemed to form a web blocking the other team from blocking anything or retaking the quaffle. Then suddenly, the constant motion of the quaffle changed direction completely and shot through the centre hoop.
“Gryffindor scores! The lions now lead by 50 to 30. The Ravens take the quaffle back and are heading for the rings - what’s this? Potter’s seen the snitch!” The crowd focussed on Harry at the announcer’s words. “He’s heading at straight at the Ravenclaw goal posts!” Suddenly, if you looked really carefully you could just make out the small golden form whizzing toward the Ravenclaw keeper.
Just as Harry caught up with the snitch, so too did the Ravenclaw seeker catch up with him. They shot neck and neck toward the small ball, jockeying for position. Just as they reached the rings however, the snitch came to a halt and hurtled off in reverse. While the Ravenclaw seeker slowed into a more conventional turn, Harry kept going and let one of his legs drop down slightly, hook onto the righthand ring, swing him around at full speed, and he shot out through the ring, catching up with the snitch and snapping a hand out to pluck it from the air.
All this happened in a matter of seconds. The crowd was stunned silent and then they erupted. The announcer shouted over the crowds through the PA system, “It’s a brand new move by Harry Potter! A new fast turn! A Potter Turn!”
They all surged onto the field where Harry was making out with Ginny in a triumphant congratulatory snog. Ron was looking torn between being proud of his seeker and nauseated at the display. When Harry and Ginny resurfaced to breathe, Buffy was there with Angel to tell Harry, “You have got to teach me how to do that.”
Having been vibrating with impatience beside them, Hermione finally exploded. “Harry Potter! Of all the irresponsible . . . how could you . . . You could have been severely injured and I know I don’t know anything about flying the way you and Ron do but even I know what happens when someone flying at top speeds rams into a solid object! What were you thinking!? I nearly had a heart attack when you did that . . .” She ranted on for the next ten minutes as they made their way back up to Gryffindor tower. Every possible thing that could have gone wrong with Harry’s stunt was raised from the possibility of breaking his ankle to a dire situation involving Harry in a coma and a great many interrupted bodily functions due to spinal injury. The brunette witch was cut off by their arrival at the tower and the crowds of chanting Gryffindors.
Angel let himself be drawn into a drinking contest with Seamus and the two started trading quips in Gaelic while Buffy joined Lavendar and Parvati in a complicated discussion of the finer points of makeup which left Hermione and Ginny quite boggled as neither of them had ever considered that there could be that level of complexity to covering up uneven skin and adding eyeshadow. Ron and Harry joined the boisterous crowd of Gryffindors in an all-night retelling of every point of the game and many rounds of Truth or Dare.
When McGonagall came to break the party up in the early hours of the morning Seamus had passed out on the chesterfield in front of the fire and several of the fourth years were carefully using their ink to dye his hair green. Her lips thinned as she glanced toward another corner where several students were counting down together in front of a cupboard on the far wall. When they reached the last number Harry and Ginny fell out of it still snogging. Another part of the room had Dean telling a story about his brother, a top shelf magazine and some muggle implements that sent her eyebrows to her hairline to an avidly listening audience of sixth and seventh years including Ron and a scandalised-looking Colin Creevey. Hermione was fighting a losing battle to clean up the party and get the House to bed and Buffy was showing off her cheerleading skills to highly interested fifth years and Angel.
“Mr. Thomas! Miss Summers! You will cease this immediately! Mr. Weasley, you and Mr. Thomas take Mr. Finnigan up to your dormitory at once! Twenty points from Gryffindor for this abysmal behaviour I definitely expected better from you all.” She glared impartially around the room and sent the students scurrying.
“Oh Professor, I’m so sorry!” Hermione said looking tearfully but gratefully at her much-idolised teacher. “I tried to make them stop but no one would listen and Ron just wouldn’t help-“
McGonagall spent a few minutes soothing Hermione’s ruffled feathers and reassuring the girl that she didn’t blame her in the least for the rest of the House’s misbehaviour. “In fact,” she told Hermione darkly, “I suspect that the only reason it was not worse was due to your efforts Miss Granger.” She sternly ignored the gagging looks and mouthed, “Teacher’s pet!” from the other students as she sent them up to their dormitories to bed.
A sudden shout of surprise and a thud behind her had McGonagall turning around in dread. Several students were gathered around a perplexed-looking platypus. The teacher closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “What now?” she demanded of the students.
Ginny piped up, “I think it’s one of the twins’ new products. Exotic Creature Confections. They’ve got a whole line that turn you into unusual nonmagical animals . . .” she trailed off at the look of tired irritation on the face of her Head of House. Sure enough, a moment later a startled-looking fifth year reappeared with a pop to replace the platypus.
“All of you to bed at once!” McGonagall thundered. At that point the last of the stragglers hurried up the stairs to their rooms and the common room was finally cleared except for Angel and the professor.
He held out an arm. “Can I escort you back to your quarters professor?” Angel inquired politely. She seemed momentarily torn, then smiled at him and placed her arm on his.
“Thank you kindly,” she said with a suddenly sparkling smile. “I haven’t had a young man escort me anywhere for a very long time.” They walked through the portrait hole and into the halls. “I’ve noticed you’ve had some difficulties of late,” McGonagall commented a few minutes later.
Angel sighed. “It’s just a lot to take in. Some of the customs and clothing of the . . . wizarding world,” He paused and shook his head slightly, “Are familiar to me. I was around when they were in common use in the nonmagical world, but parts of the culture now are very different. Being with Buffy again is wonderful, but seeing her in a place that is so very different from the surroundings I’ve always seen her in and yet to see her comfortable here is startling.”
She nodded in understanding. “It’s the combination of the alien and the familiar isn’t it?” she commented. “When I step into the muggle world I feel the same way sometimes. It might well be easier to adjust if everything were alien. Instead you see something familiar in an unfamiliar setting and it is more jarring than that which you have never seen before.”
“Because it isn’t the way it’s supposed to be,” he finished with a smile.
They had reached the central arch of a line of blind arches. She turned to the wall and said, “Porphyry.” The stone seemed to melt away leaving a passage visible. “Thank you for the company,” she said with another lovely smile.
“Good evening,” Angel replied with a slight bow.
McGonagall had just passed the threshold when she turned around and said, “I trust I don’t have to remind you not to mention to the students either the location or the password to enter the teachers’ quarters?” One of her eyebrows was arched and her expression was severe. But around the corners of her mouth the smile lingered.
“Of course not,” Angel replied, then swept into an elegant court bow. “’Twas a pleasure to escort you to your door,” he said, letting just a touch of his old Irish accent colour his voice. Then he kissed her hand, sent a debonair grin her way and swept off into the darkness of the school.
Pomona Sprout came up behind her. “Well, that was something,” she observed with raised brows. She turned the look to her colleague. “And how did you do getting the lions to bed Minerva?” she inquired archly.
“Hmm?” A slight prod from the herbology professor brought her back to the present. “Oh you know, the usual. Weasley pranks and snogging.”
“And?”
Minerva grinned. “And then an incredibly handsome man walked me back.”
“He does have a nice arse,” giggled Sprout. “Too bad he’s too young. Or too old. . . . Something.”
The two teachers headed off toward their suites, giggling like schoolgirls the whole way about Angel. After all, just because they were getting on in years didn’t mean they couldn’t still look.
************************************
Angel walked back to his rooms and was startled to find Buffy pacing anxiously. “Buffy? What’s wrong?”
She whipped around and flung herself at him, wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him eagerly. He agreeably allowed her to do so for several minutes before slowly detaching her and asking again what was going on. She grinned and told him about what Giles had sent in response to Hermione’s email on the killing curse.
“Basically, Giles thinks that Hermione’s right about you reverting to having your demon pushed forward. He said that the demon in a regular vampire takes the place of a soul. That it’s in the same spot.” She looked briefly confused. “Or something like that. I don’t get what he means, but basically it’s like if your soul has a spot somewhere, the demon takes its place when you get turned and the soul goes away.”
Angel nodded, “I understand so far, but how does the killing curse fit into this? I mean, so far, all the evidence suggests I should have lost my soul still.”
Buffy took a deep breath. “Okay, well Giles said that when you pushed the demon forward, it sort of blocked the spell from detaching your soul because the demon was sort of in front of it. But because it’s a demon and not a soul, it left traces behind when it got separated. It kinda provided a magical support so that your body still functions enough that your soul can still stick around.”
Angel stared at her. “So, roughly, my soul has now reclaimed the place it’s supposed to be because my demon has been killed by the killing curse.”
“Right.”
“And the demon left enough of itself behind that I won’t suddenly turn to dust.”
“Exactly,” Buffy looked at him expectantly.
“What does this mean in the long term?” Angel finally asked.
Buffy grinned. “Giles says that it means that you’re not going to be vulnerable to crosses, sunlight and the invitation thing anymore. The other things that would’ve killed you before will still be able to and stuff, but you won’t have to hide from the sun anymore.”
There was a lengthy silence and then Angel scooped Buffy up and carried her off to bed and told her as he did so, “I’ll look over what he actually said tomorrow, but tonight I’m just going to enjoy the moment.” Then they both stopped talking.
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The morning after, everyone from Gryffindor looked like they’d been on a three-day bender. Harry’s hair was worse than usual, Ron appeared to be simultaneously sleeping and eating, a feat which impressed many in the Great Hall to no end as his ability to unerringly find the various food items he wished with his eyes closed and then shovel them into his mouth at his usual rate suggested some sort of paranormal ability to locate food. Colin still looked shell-shocked and all it took to make his eyes bug out was the word from Dean, “Hammers.”
Dean and Seamus merely looked woozy and green despite their attempts to maintain their usual morning banter on girls, sports, girls, classes, girls and girls. Lavendar, Parvati and the other girly-girl types were whispering to each other and fiddling with makeup and hair in an attempt to disguise the fact that they’d had no sleep while Harry was providing Ginny with a pillow by letting her lean her head on his shoulder and Hermione was looking terribly anxious and shushing everyone while sending repeated worried looks to the head tables as though every movement and sound from the Gryffindors would send their house points tumbling into the negatives.
Angel and Buffy were nowhere to be seen until breakfast was nearly over, and the pair of them came strolling in, through the patchy sunlight streaming in through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, much to the surprise of those in the Hall. Everyone in the school was aware of Angel’s “allergic” reaction to the sun, whether informed directly by Buffy or Harry’s gang, or through the constant efforts of the Hogwarts gossip grapevine.
Harry was the first one of his group to spot Buffy and Angel. He raised an eyebrow and nudged first Hermione, then Ron, then Ginny. Ron blearily opened his eyes for the second time that morning, (the first had been locate a troublesomely evasive necktie) Ginny looked at the couple, rolled her eyes, lay back down, then abruptly sat up straight as it hit her that Angel was no longer avoiding the sun. Hermione stopped shushing and started fidgeting madly as she waited for the pair to get to the table so she could find out about the details, whys, wherefores and whatnots of this new development.
“Well?” the brunette witch exploded when they finally got there. “I must assume Mr. Giles has said something that brought about your confidence in Angel’s new immunity to sunlight.” She looked on expectantly.
Buffy laughed. “Giles didn’t even address the email to me. I think he likes you better.” Hermione visibly twitched at this nonanswer. Finally the Slayer took pity on her. “I’ll show you the email, it has all of Giles’ research and stuff in it, but you were pretty much right.”
“So how does it feel to not have to worry about the sun anymore?” Ron asked.
It took a moment, but Angel came up with the response he wanted. “It makes me feel like I might truly deserve happiness. As though, in some way, it shows that the penance I’ve been trying to do over the years actually means something.”
Hermione and Ron looked a little confused at this statement, but Ginny and Harry both nodded. Hermione raised an eyebrow at them but Harry just gestured that he’d try to explain it to her later. Ron shrugged it off as one of those things he hadn’t the emotional depth to understand and was perfectly happy not understanding.
At that moment several things happened. A late-arriving owl dropped a letter off at Harry’s place, Hermione exclaimed, “Oh no! We’re going to be late!” Ginny jumped in surprise sending several plates and glasses flying and their contents plunging into the laps and bags of several Gryffindors and Snape and McGonagall came sweeping in to harass the students, getting into an argument with each other over who had what jurisdiction over the altercations which had erupted at the slightest sign of trouble.
In all the furor Harry’s letter got shoved into a pocket and forgotten. For the next couple days it was completely missed until Dobby arrived in the Gryffindor common room in search of Harry, waving the letter in the air. “Harry Potter sir! Dobby is having a letter that is being found in the laundry for you!”
Harry had a vague memory of stuffing a letter into his uniform pocket a few days previous and never reading it. He frowned at the envelope. It was, before landing in the laundry, a crisp, white, muggle envelope. Further, he couldn’t recognise the handwriting at all. He carefully tore it open and started to read. It was a short letter, but he found himself reading it over and over again in disbelief. Certain it could not say what he thought it was saying.
It was a letter from his Aunt Petunia.
As Harry stood there, staring at the sheet of paper in his hand, Ginny came over and prodded him. “Harry? Harry. What’s going on?” He didn’t respond to her, still simply staring in disbelief at the letter. Finally Ginny got annoyed and snatched the letter from his hand and started to read it aloud.
To my nephew,
I realise how very ungrateful you are for our kindness and hospitality, but I feel that even you will not ignore the bond of family between us. Several things have happened since you left for school this year and now we require your help. After all we have done for you, allowing you to bring your unusual proclivities into our house, you owe us the favour of assisting us with this problem.
There have been several unusual people visiting us recently and your uncle and I wish for you to rid us of them. How you do it, we do not care. All either of us wants is for them to no longer come by. The neighbours are beginning to talk and Vernon has a very important promotion upcoming if we make the right impression.
Understand that I would not be contacting you if there were another way to keep these people away.
Sincerely,
Petunia B. Dursley
When she finished Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all looking as perplexed as Harry. “She’s kidding right?” Ron demanded. “Kindness? ‘Bond of family’? Who does she think she is?”
“A shallow, selfish, petty woman who is too stupid to know how to ask a favour,” Hermione said acidly.
Watching all this with interest, Buffy had reserved her opinion until now. But hearing the ever-objective Hermione’s unvarnished dislike of Petunia Dursley made the Slayer’s eyebrows shoot up. “She’s that bad?”
Ginny’s response was unequivocal. “Worse.” As Harry opened his mouth, seemingly about to protest, his girlfriend continued. “And despite whatever Harry may say to try and make it sound not as bad as it is, it’s that bad.” He shut his mouth, clearly deciding that, if he was picking his battles, this was one worth not picking.
Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy spotted the resigned look on Harry’s face. “You’re going to go help her anyways aren’t you?” she asked.
“Well . . . I . . .” he stammered. Ginny’s forbidding basilisk stare only compounded his nerves. Her look spoke volumes of how she would make him suffer if he let his guilt and hero complex overtake what she saw as the only reasonable action.
With a sigh Buffy set out to rescue Harry. “Of course he’s going to. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t,” she said. “Besides, that’s why we’re better than the Petunia B. Dursleys of the world. We will help people if they need it, whether or not they deserve it.”
“And because we can feel smug we were better than them?” Angel said with a resignedly suspicious look on his face. No one was quite sure how he managed to look both at once, but he did. He fixed Buffy with said look until she flushed and looked away.
“Maybe,” she mumbled.
A moment of consideration later and Ron said, “I like that. We’ll go and help her and rub it in her face that we’re better than her.”
“Ron!” Hermione furiously began to lecture Ron about his attitude until Ginny said, not quietly enough unfortunately, that she thought Ron’s plan was a good one. However, it was eventually agreed that they would go as a group and get permission to go with Harry to help his aunt with whatever had forced her into the dire straits of asking her ‘freak’ nephew for help.
So they made their way to the gargoyle marking Dumbledore’s office and stared at it. “Nickel Naks,” Angel finally said. Naturally the password had changed.
Five minutes of candy names later, Buffy pulled out a potions vial from her jacket pocket and started to pour it over the gargoyle and spread it on the wall behind. “What are you doing?” Hermione asked.
“Pouring a dilatory erinaceous potion over the wall and the statue,” Buffy replied.
Ginny, Harry and Ron all stared. Hermione frowned. “Why are you doing that?”
“A what potion?” Ginny interrupted.
“’Dilatory’ means to be not prompt, and ‘erinaceous’ means like a hedgehog,” Hermione said, “It’s a time-delay potion that turns smaller animals into hedgehogs after about ten minutes.” She turned to Buffy. “But the only possible effect it might have is if Mrs. Norris comes by and some drips on her accidentally.” She paused and something else occurred to her. “Why do you have that anyhow? It’s notoriously hard to make.”
Buffy shrugged as she splashed the last of it onto the wall. “A couple reasons. Romilda Vane’s cat shed all over my $300 new suede boots and I was planning on changing it into a hedgehog. Those don’t shed.” Ron and Ginny nodded in understanding about the expense and revenge. Harry stared.
“You’re getting revenge because there’s cat hair on your boots?” he asked incredulously.
“It’s not the only reason,” Buffy replied defensively. “I said there were a couple.”
Angel looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Does this have to do with the lacertiform demon we ran into yesterday evening?”
“You said we need to make it melt,” Buffy said as she hunted through her pockets for something. “Ha! Found it!”
Her boyfriend was not to be deterred. “And how is something that makes small animals into hedgehogs going to make a demon melt?” he asked. The other four turned to her expectantly, waiting for an answer.
The Slayer had just pulled her hand back to toss whatever it was she had just retrieved from her pocket onto the potion-covered wall and gargoyle when Snape appeared behind them and made her drop the bag. He picked it up, sniffed it, and then said, “Witch hazel Miss Summers? Twenty points to Gryffindor for such a clever use of available materials.” As the other students gaped at him, he continued. “And fifty points for attempting to melt the entrance into the Headmaster’s office.” He smirked at her. “You didn’t honestly expect me to believe that story about Miss Vane’s cat was the sole reason you wanted the dilatory erinaceous potion.”
“Then could you let us in to see the headmaster so we don’t have to stand around trying to guess every single candy ever invented?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Or so that I don’t have to put you in detention for the rest of the year and leave Gryffindor in negative points for melting the wall of the headmaster’s office?” the professor inquired.
Shrugging, Buffy replied, “That too.”
Hermione hid her face in her hands, Harry winced and Ginny and Ron just rolled their eyes. Snape merely turned to the gargoyle and said, “Coffee Crisp.”
At that there were confused glances exchanged among the members of the group. Even Angel looked a little confused. “Is that some sort of wizard candy I don’t know about?” Buffy asked. The others shrugged.
They made their way up the stairs to the headmaster’s office and waited as Snape knocked on the door. “Come in Severus,” Dumbledore said from within the inner sanctum. Just before Hermione looked to properly awed at his omniscience, Angel jerked his head at the tiny mirror set in the wall just outside the office. Harry caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and smirked, nudging Ron and Ginny. The two just looked at Harry in a distinct lack of comprehension before he rolled his eyes and gestured that he’d explain later.
A moment later they were inside, facing Dumbledore and explaining Harry’s necessary trip to Surrey. The headmaster frowned slightly in thought for a moment after their explanation. “I agree that Mr. Potter must determine what his aunt believes she requires of him. However,” and here he raised a hand, cautioning the students. “I believe it would be most prudent for only Mr. Potter and Miss Granger to go,” as the voices of the teenagers began to rise in protest, he simply paused and watched them until they subsided, Ron and Hermione flushed in slight embarrassment and Ginny looking mutinous.
Buffy looked at them, slightly surprised at their insistence that they should be going with Harry to visit those people they all seemed to agree were really quite unpleasant. She shook herself internally. She was thinking all Giles-y again. Must be exposure to all the Britishness at the school.
“I do realise you wish to accompany Mr. Potter for . . . erm . . . support,” Dumbledore finally continued, “But I do believe that he would be better served if Mrs. Dursley was not antagonised by the presence of wizards in her home. Thus I will allow Miss Granger to accompany Mr. Potter and we will send an escort with you to ensure your safety.”
And that was the best they were going to get.
*************************************
So it was that the next day, Harry, Hermione and several members of the Order of the Phoenix they had never met before touched an old Coke can and portkeyed out to a park near to Number Four Privet Drive. They landed and Harry fell over before climbing to his feet and quickly walking toward his childhood house. “Harry, slow down,” Hermione said as she was forced to half-run to keep up with his rapid pace.
He slowed slightly and turned to her. “The faster we get there, the faster we can deal with whatever the problem may be and get back to Hogwarts.” He continued before Hermione could say anything in reply, “And the faster I can gloat with Ron, Buffy and Ginny that I’m a better person than the Dursleys.”
At that Hermione rolled her eyes and just concentrated on keeping up with Harry.
They arrived at Number Four and Harry rang the doorbell. Hermione took advantage of the momentary break to glance around the yard and the front of the house. The lawn was still perfectly clipped, not a leaf in sight. The outside of the house was utterly spotless, the shutters on the windows matching the paint colour on the door to utter perfection. It was like an idyllic postcard scene of complete suburban perfection.
Except for the scratches on the door, reminiscent of claw marks and the enormous swathe of turf that had been ripped out of the front lawn.
Before she could categorise anymore of the disturbing signs of violence, Petunia Dursley answered the door and practically dragged the two inside. “Stop standing at the door,” she hissed, “People will wonder what freaks like you are doing visiting here.”
Harry just rolled his eyes. He was used to Petunia’s overreactions to anything and everything he did. No matter that he was dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt, both of which were brand new and fit him perfectly, in no way too tight or too loose, and a pair of crisp new Nikes. Nevermind that Hermione was wearing a pair of khakis and a green long sleeved t-shirt herself. Petunia still acted as though somehow his mere being broadcasted his . . . “freakishness”.
“What are we doing here Aunt Petunia?” he asked.
She glared at him. “I want you to keep them away. I don’t care if you use that stick of yours or if you turn into one of them, you will keep them away.”
At that, Harry was completely baffled. She wasn’t talking about wizards, it was clear, she was talking about something else. “Them? Who?” He glanced at Hermione in the hope that she would have picked up on something he hadn’t noticed. She looked as puzzled as he did.
“Does this have something to do with the marks on the doors Mrs. Dursley?” Hermione inquired.
The older woman snarled. “As if you people didn’t know.” Harry was about to say something when he recognised the look and tone of voice. It was the same one that had exploded from Petunia that night when Hagrid had come to get Harry. The sound of her voice was of some violent dislike, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to explode outward. She continued, “When my parents tried to explain about the freakishness in our family I didn’t believe them. And then Lily became a witch. Why the hell that bitch got to be pretty and smart and all our parents attention, and all I got was this!” She had turned away, from them as she ranted, but now she turned back, and the shock as much as anything made Harry pull away.
Her skin had developed scales and claws were on the tips of her fingers. A look at her mouth revealed fangs. All in all, she looked very snake-like. The patterning of the scales was very lovely however, and if it weren’t for the rage and hatred on her face, she could have been quite beautiful. As it was, however, it was clear Petunia felt revulsion for her appearance.
“I don’t . . . understand,” Harry finally managed.
His aunt sneered at him. “Let me make it clear then. My grandmother was a demon spawned freak. Because of that, we’re part of some sort of clan. And they’ve been coming by and harassing me even though neither I nor Vernon want anything to do with them. You’re a freak, you get rid of them.”
At that moment, there was a banging on the door and a moment later, several snake-people, bearing a close resemblance to Petunia’s scales and claws came bursting in. “So,” said the one in the lead, “Is this him?”
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9
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Notes: My first note (I do these as I go) is that I borrowed the idea of the ‘Potter Turn’ from Jeconais’ fantastic Harry/Gabrielle fic “Hope” which can be found on his website. It's over at http://jeconais.fanficauthors.net/ . I’ve also been working on the explanation of Angel’s immunity to the sun for a while now, as well as a means of avoiding the curse’s “true happiness” clause. Anyhow, if the explanation doesn’t make sense I can clarify it in the next instalment. Finally, I hope the quidditch match is all right. After all, what would a Harry Potter inclusive story be without quidditch? Coffee Crisps are chocolate bars. There’s a coffee flavoured toffee in the middle and chocolate around the outside. Yes, they’re a real candy bar.
***************************
Hermione was indeed good. Within two hours she had plumbed the depths of the Restricted Section and had determined how the killing curse worked. She then insisted on using Buffy’s laptop to send an email to Giles describing the complete effects and history of the curse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Mr. Giles,
I am a friend of Buffy’s here at her new school. Angel appears to now recall what I believe may have had a significant impact on him as regards his current immunity to sunlight. Insofar as we can tell, Angel was hit by what is colloquially known here as the “Killing Curse.” It is a spell which, when cast at a living target, renders him instantly dead. There is no known way of blocking the curse and there was also only one known survivor until Angel. However, given that Angel is not human or technically alive, this does alter what one might expect of the normal effects of the curse.
The way the Avada Kedavra (this is the incantation used to cast the spell) works is by briefly severing the connection between a person’s soul and his body. It was originally created in an attempt at devising a means of assisting seers and the clairvoyant in entering the astral plane. As you may know, if a person is lost too long on the astral plane his body will die, no matter what physical efforts are made to maintain the physical being. Unfortunately, the Avada separated the soul from the body so dramatically and quickly that it usually essentially “tricked” the body into believing the soul had been lost. When the soul returns to the body mere moments later, the body is dead and there is nothing left for the soul to return to.
From what we understand, Angel believes he had reverted to an animalistic state in order to defend his consciousness under the torture he was enduring. He somehow pressed his demonic vampire being forward in order to force it to take the pain instead of his own consciousness, thus explaining one reason why his memories are so very blurry. He was then struck by the Avada and left for dead. My theory is that somehow, being struck with the Avada has sufficiently altered Angel’s metaphysical being enough to allow him to stand sunlight and other such things.
As this letter is merely a rapid summation of my research, I have attached to this message the pertinent excerpts of the texts in question as well as a more detailed description from Angel of the precise circumstances surrounding the casting. I hope this is useful to your research as we are all most anxious and concerned about Angel.
Sincerely,
Hermione J. Granger
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy could only imagine the look of geeker Giles-y joy on her watcher’s face when Hermione’s research arrived at his end. In the meantime, Hermione had vanished into the library searching for alternate causes again while Harry, Ron and Ginny prepared for their quidditch match. Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw.
Angel had watched some of the late-night Gryffindor practices and had been suitably impressed. He was less impressed with Buffy’s offer to take him flying, informing her that if Man (or vampire) had been meant to fly, he would have had a non-artificial means of doing so. Buffy once more told him, “You know, those new-fangled flying machines are a lot safer than they used to be.”
“I would like to point out,” he replied, “That you are saying they are safer than they were, not that they are, in fact, safe.” Harry, Ginny and Ron were watching this tennis match of words with interest and amusement. “And more than that, just because I admire you all for being able to take a hunk of wood and make it fly while you’re sitting on it, doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re all crazy.”
“Oi!” was Ron’s indignant interjection. Harry just shrugged. “You know they say you’re more likely to get killed while crossing the street than a plane crash.” Angel had no response to that and Buffy grinned at him.
“I’m not going up there and that’s final,” he told her.
And so it was. Instead, two weeks later, Buffy, Angel and a reluctantly-dragged-from-the-library Hermione were ensconced on the Gryffindor sections of the stands watching Harry hurtle toward the ground chased by the new Ravenclaw seeker. As usual the whole game had seemingly paused to watch them hurtle downward. Then the Ravenclaw seeker pulled out of his dive, but instead of flying off to look for the snitch, he seemed to just be watching Harry head down. As Harry pulled out of his Wronski Feint those nearby were able to hear the embarrassed Ravenclaw admit, “I thought you’d seen the snitch. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to pull out in time if I’d kept up any longer.”
Buffy snorted. “Wimp,” she murmured to Angel.
He rolled his eyes at her. “That is just the sort of attitude that explains why people are crazy enough to fly around in the first place.”
“What? If he can’t take the heat he should get out of the kitchen,” Buffy told him. “Besides, you’ll notice I’m not out there even though I could’ve tried out for beater.”
Hermione finally poked her head up from the book she’d taken to the game that she was pretending to read while she ogled Ron in his quidditch leathers. “You mean there’s some school activity you could have done to take out your violent tendencies in a socially acceptable manner and you didn’t take it? Typical.”
“Hey!” Buffy immediately objected. “The only people I hit can take it or they deserve it.”
“Of course. What’s important is that you believe that,” Hermione said absentmindedly as Ron reached to make a save, thus exposing the aforementioned leathers in all their glory.
While Buffy spluttered in annoyance, Angel watched the game go by. He suddenly noticed the Gryffindor team moving into the very same positions he’d hashed out with Ron several weeks before while he’d still been suffering from amnesia. He watched in anticipation as the beaters moved toward the opposing hoops and the three chasers split apart, each of them coming in from a different angle. When the Ravenclaws closed in on the chaser carrying the quaffle, two bludgers hurtled through their formation driving the blue team off. For a moment the chasers circled the confused keeper while the beaters seemed to form a web blocking the other team from blocking anything or retaking the quaffle. Then suddenly, the constant motion of the quaffle changed direction completely and shot through the centre hoop.
“Gryffindor scores! The lions now lead by 50 to 30. The Ravens take the quaffle back and are heading for the rings - what’s this? Potter’s seen the snitch!” The crowd focussed on Harry at the announcer’s words. “He’s heading at straight at the Ravenclaw goal posts!” Suddenly, if you looked really carefully you could just make out the small golden form whizzing toward the Ravenclaw keeper.
Just as Harry caught up with the snitch, so too did the Ravenclaw seeker catch up with him. They shot neck and neck toward the small ball, jockeying for position. Just as they reached the rings however, the snitch came to a halt and hurtled off in reverse. While the Ravenclaw seeker slowed into a more conventional turn, Harry kept going and let one of his legs drop down slightly, hook onto the righthand ring, swing him around at full speed, and he shot out through the ring, catching up with the snitch and snapping a hand out to pluck it from the air.
All this happened in a matter of seconds. The crowd was stunned silent and then they erupted. The announcer shouted over the crowds through the PA system, “It’s a brand new move by Harry Potter! A new fast turn! A Potter Turn!”
They all surged onto the field where Harry was making out with Ginny in a triumphant congratulatory snog. Ron was looking torn between being proud of his seeker and nauseated at the display. When Harry and Ginny resurfaced to breathe, Buffy was there with Angel to tell Harry, “You have got to teach me how to do that.”
Having been vibrating with impatience beside them, Hermione finally exploded. “Harry Potter! Of all the irresponsible . . . how could you . . . You could have been severely injured and I know I don’t know anything about flying the way you and Ron do but even I know what happens when someone flying at top speeds rams into a solid object! What were you thinking!? I nearly had a heart attack when you did that . . .” She ranted on for the next ten minutes as they made their way back up to Gryffindor tower. Every possible thing that could have gone wrong with Harry’s stunt was raised from the possibility of breaking his ankle to a dire situation involving Harry in a coma and a great many interrupted bodily functions due to spinal injury. The brunette witch was cut off by their arrival at the tower and the crowds of chanting Gryffindors.
Angel let himself be drawn into a drinking contest with Seamus and the two started trading quips in Gaelic while Buffy joined Lavendar and Parvati in a complicated discussion of the finer points of makeup which left Hermione and Ginny quite boggled as neither of them had ever considered that there could be that level of complexity to covering up uneven skin and adding eyeshadow. Ron and Harry joined the boisterous crowd of Gryffindors in an all-night retelling of every point of the game and many rounds of Truth or Dare.
When McGonagall came to break the party up in the early hours of the morning Seamus had passed out on the chesterfield in front of the fire and several of the fourth years were carefully using their ink to dye his hair green. Her lips thinned as she glanced toward another corner where several students were counting down together in front of a cupboard on the far wall. When they reached the last number Harry and Ginny fell out of it still snogging. Another part of the room had Dean telling a story about his brother, a top shelf magazine and some muggle implements that sent her eyebrows to her hairline to an avidly listening audience of sixth and seventh years including Ron and a scandalised-looking Colin Creevey. Hermione was fighting a losing battle to clean up the party and get the House to bed and Buffy was showing off her cheerleading skills to highly interested fifth years and Angel.
“Mr. Thomas! Miss Summers! You will cease this immediately! Mr. Weasley, you and Mr. Thomas take Mr. Finnigan up to your dormitory at once! Twenty points from Gryffindor for this abysmal behaviour I definitely expected better from you all.” She glared impartially around the room and sent the students scurrying.
“Oh Professor, I’m so sorry!” Hermione said looking tearfully but gratefully at her much-idolised teacher. “I tried to make them stop but no one would listen and Ron just wouldn’t help-“
McGonagall spent a few minutes soothing Hermione’s ruffled feathers and reassuring the girl that she didn’t blame her in the least for the rest of the House’s misbehaviour. “In fact,” she told Hermione darkly, “I suspect that the only reason it was not worse was due to your efforts Miss Granger.” She sternly ignored the gagging looks and mouthed, “Teacher’s pet!” from the other students as she sent them up to their dormitories to bed.
A sudden shout of surprise and a thud behind her had McGonagall turning around in dread. Several students were gathered around a perplexed-looking platypus. The teacher closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “What now?” she demanded of the students.
Ginny piped up, “I think it’s one of the twins’ new products. Exotic Creature Confections. They’ve got a whole line that turn you into unusual nonmagical animals . . .” she trailed off at the look of tired irritation on the face of her Head of House. Sure enough, a moment later a startled-looking fifth year reappeared with a pop to replace the platypus.
“All of you to bed at once!” McGonagall thundered. At that point the last of the stragglers hurried up the stairs to their rooms and the common room was finally cleared except for Angel and the professor.
He held out an arm. “Can I escort you back to your quarters professor?” Angel inquired politely. She seemed momentarily torn, then smiled at him and placed her arm on his.
“Thank you kindly,” she said with a suddenly sparkling smile. “I haven’t had a young man escort me anywhere for a very long time.” They walked through the portrait hole and into the halls. “I’ve noticed you’ve had some difficulties of late,” McGonagall commented a few minutes later.
Angel sighed. “It’s just a lot to take in. Some of the customs and clothing of the . . . wizarding world,” He paused and shook his head slightly, “Are familiar to me. I was around when they were in common use in the nonmagical world, but parts of the culture now are very different. Being with Buffy again is wonderful, but seeing her in a place that is so very different from the surroundings I’ve always seen her in and yet to see her comfortable here is startling.”
She nodded in understanding. “It’s the combination of the alien and the familiar isn’t it?” she commented. “When I step into the muggle world I feel the same way sometimes. It might well be easier to adjust if everything were alien. Instead you see something familiar in an unfamiliar setting and it is more jarring than that which you have never seen before.”
“Because it isn’t the way it’s supposed to be,” he finished with a smile.
They had reached the central arch of a line of blind arches. She turned to the wall and said, “Porphyry.” The stone seemed to melt away leaving a passage visible. “Thank you for the company,” she said with another lovely smile.
“Good evening,” Angel replied with a slight bow.
McGonagall had just passed the threshold when she turned around and said, “I trust I don’t have to remind you not to mention to the students either the location or the password to enter the teachers’ quarters?” One of her eyebrows was arched and her expression was severe. But around the corners of her mouth the smile lingered.
“Of course not,” Angel replied, then swept into an elegant court bow. “’Twas a pleasure to escort you to your door,” he said, letting just a touch of his old Irish accent colour his voice. Then he kissed her hand, sent a debonair grin her way and swept off into the darkness of the school.
Pomona Sprout came up behind her. “Well, that was something,” she observed with raised brows. She turned the look to her colleague. “And how did you do getting the lions to bed Minerva?” she inquired archly.
“Hmm?” A slight prod from the herbology professor brought her back to the present. “Oh you know, the usual. Weasley pranks and snogging.”
“And?”
Minerva grinned. “And then an incredibly handsome man walked me back.”
“He does have a nice arse,” giggled Sprout. “Too bad he’s too young. Or too old. . . . Something.”
The two teachers headed off toward their suites, giggling like schoolgirls the whole way about Angel. After all, just because they were getting on in years didn’t mean they couldn’t still look.
************************************
Angel walked back to his rooms and was startled to find Buffy pacing anxiously. “Buffy? What’s wrong?”
She whipped around and flung herself at him, wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him eagerly. He agreeably allowed her to do so for several minutes before slowly detaching her and asking again what was going on. She grinned and told him about what Giles had sent in response to Hermione’s email on the killing curse.
“Basically, Giles thinks that Hermione’s right about you reverting to having your demon pushed forward. He said that the demon in a regular vampire takes the place of a soul. That it’s in the same spot.” She looked briefly confused. “Or something like that. I don’t get what he means, but basically it’s like if your soul has a spot somewhere, the demon takes its place when you get turned and the soul goes away.”
Angel nodded, “I understand so far, but how does the killing curse fit into this? I mean, so far, all the evidence suggests I should have lost my soul still.”
Buffy took a deep breath. “Okay, well Giles said that when you pushed the demon forward, it sort of blocked the spell from detaching your soul because the demon was sort of in front of it. But because it’s a demon and not a soul, it left traces behind when it got separated. It kinda provided a magical support so that your body still functions enough that your soul can still stick around.”
Angel stared at her. “So, roughly, my soul has now reclaimed the place it’s supposed to be because my demon has been killed by the killing curse.”
“Right.”
“And the demon left enough of itself behind that I won’t suddenly turn to dust.”
“Exactly,” Buffy looked at him expectantly.
“What does this mean in the long term?” Angel finally asked.
Buffy grinned. “Giles says that it means that you’re not going to be vulnerable to crosses, sunlight and the invitation thing anymore. The other things that would’ve killed you before will still be able to and stuff, but you won’t have to hide from the sun anymore.”
There was a lengthy silence and then Angel scooped Buffy up and carried her off to bed and told her as he did so, “I’ll look over what he actually said tomorrow, but tonight I’m just going to enjoy the moment.” Then they both stopped talking.
*************************
The morning after, everyone from Gryffindor looked like they’d been on a three-day bender. Harry’s hair was worse than usual, Ron appeared to be simultaneously sleeping and eating, a feat which impressed many in the Great Hall to no end as his ability to unerringly find the various food items he wished with his eyes closed and then shovel them into his mouth at his usual rate suggested some sort of paranormal ability to locate food. Colin still looked shell-shocked and all it took to make his eyes bug out was the word from Dean, “Hammers.”
Dean and Seamus merely looked woozy and green despite their attempts to maintain their usual morning banter on girls, sports, girls, classes, girls and girls. Lavendar, Parvati and the other girly-girl types were whispering to each other and fiddling with makeup and hair in an attempt to disguise the fact that they’d had no sleep while Harry was providing Ginny with a pillow by letting her lean her head on his shoulder and Hermione was looking terribly anxious and shushing everyone while sending repeated worried looks to the head tables as though every movement and sound from the Gryffindors would send their house points tumbling into the negatives.
Angel and Buffy were nowhere to be seen until breakfast was nearly over, and the pair of them came strolling in, through the patchy sunlight streaming in through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, much to the surprise of those in the Hall. Everyone in the school was aware of Angel’s “allergic” reaction to the sun, whether informed directly by Buffy or Harry’s gang, or through the constant efforts of the Hogwarts gossip grapevine.
Harry was the first one of his group to spot Buffy and Angel. He raised an eyebrow and nudged first Hermione, then Ron, then Ginny. Ron blearily opened his eyes for the second time that morning, (the first had been locate a troublesomely evasive necktie) Ginny looked at the couple, rolled her eyes, lay back down, then abruptly sat up straight as it hit her that Angel was no longer avoiding the sun. Hermione stopped shushing and started fidgeting madly as she waited for the pair to get to the table so she could find out about the details, whys, wherefores and whatnots of this new development.
“Well?” the brunette witch exploded when they finally got there. “I must assume Mr. Giles has said something that brought about your confidence in Angel’s new immunity to sunlight.” She looked on expectantly.
Buffy laughed. “Giles didn’t even address the email to me. I think he likes you better.” Hermione visibly twitched at this nonanswer. Finally the Slayer took pity on her. “I’ll show you the email, it has all of Giles’ research and stuff in it, but you were pretty much right.”
“So how does it feel to not have to worry about the sun anymore?” Ron asked.
It took a moment, but Angel came up with the response he wanted. “It makes me feel like I might truly deserve happiness. As though, in some way, it shows that the penance I’ve been trying to do over the years actually means something.”
Hermione and Ron looked a little confused at this statement, but Ginny and Harry both nodded. Hermione raised an eyebrow at them but Harry just gestured that he’d try to explain it to her later. Ron shrugged it off as one of those things he hadn’t the emotional depth to understand and was perfectly happy not understanding.
At that moment several things happened. A late-arriving owl dropped a letter off at Harry’s place, Hermione exclaimed, “Oh no! We’re going to be late!” Ginny jumped in surprise sending several plates and glasses flying and their contents plunging into the laps and bags of several Gryffindors and Snape and McGonagall came sweeping in to harass the students, getting into an argument with each other over who had what jurisdiction over the altercations which had erupted at the slightest sign of trouble.
In all the furor Harry’s letter got shoved into a pocket and forgotten. For the next couple days it was completely missed until Dobby arrived in the Gryffindor common room in search of Harry, waving the letter in the air. “Harry Potter sir! Dobby is having a letter that is being found in the laundry for you!”
Harry had a vague memory of stuffing a letter into his uniform pocket a few days previous and never reading it. He frowned at the envelope. It was, before landing in the laundry, a crisp, white, muggle envelope. Further, he couldn’t recognise the handwriting at all. He carefully tore it open and started to read. It was a short letter, but he found himself reading it over and over again in disbelief. Certain it could not say what he thought it was saying.
It was a letter from his Aunt Petunia.
As Harry stood there, staring at the sheet of paper in his hand, Ginny came over and prodded him. “Harry? Harry. What’s going on?” He didn’t respond to her, still simply staring in disbelief at the letter. Finally Ginny got annoyed and snatched the letter from his hand and started to read it aloud.
To my nephew,
I realise how very ungrateful you are for our kindness and hospitality, but I feel that even you will not ignore the bond of family between us. Several things have happened since you left for school this year and now we require your help. After all we have done for you, allowing you to bring your unusual proclivities into our house, you owe us the favour of assisting us with this problem.
There have been several unusual people visiting us recently and your uncle and I wish for you to rid us of them. How you do it, we do not care. All either of us wants is for them to no longer come by. The neighbours are beginning to talk and Vernon has a very important promotion upcoming if we make the right impression.
Understand that I would not be contacting you if there were another way to keep these people away.
Sincerely,
Petunia B. Dursley
When she finished Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all looking as perplexed as Harry. “She’s kidding right?” Ron demanded. “Kindness? ‘Bond of family’? Who does she think she is?”
“A shallow, selfish, petty woman who is too stupid to know how to ask a favour,” Hermione said acidly.
Watching all this with interest, Buffy had reserved her opinion until now. But hearing the ever-objective Hermione’s unvarnished dislike of Petunia Dursley made the Slayer’s eyebrows shoot up. “She’s that bad?”
Ginny’s response was unequivocal. “Worse.” As Harry opened his mouth, seemingly about to protest, his girlfriend continued. “And despite whatever Harry may say to try and make it sound not as bad as it is, it’s that bad.” He shut his mouth, clearly deciding that, if he was picking his battles, this was one worth not picking.
Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy spotted the resigned look on Harry’s face. “You’re going to go help her anyways aren’t you?” she asked.
“Well . . . I . . .” he stammered. Ginny’s forbidding basilisk stare only compounded his nerves. Her look spoke volumes of how she would make him suffer if he let his guilt and hero complex overtake what she saw as the only reasonable action.
With a sigh Buffy set out to rescue Harry. “Of course he’s going to. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t,” she said. “Besides, that’s why we’re better than the Petunia B. Dursleys of the world. We will help people if they need it, whether or not they deserve it.”
“And because we can feel smug we were better than them?” Angel said with a resignedly suspicious look on his face. No one was quite sure how he managed to look both at once, but he did. He fixed Buffy with said look until she flushed and looked away.
“Maybe,” she mumbled.
A moment of consideration later and Ron said, “I like that. We’ll go and help her and rub it in her face that we’re better than her.”
“Ron!” Hermione furiously began to lecture Ron about his attitude until Ginny said, not quietly enough unfortunately, that she thought Ron’s plan was a good one. However, it was eventually agreed that they would go as a group and get permission to go with Harry to help his aunt with whatever had forced her into the dire straits of asking her ‘freak’ nephew for help.
So they made their way to the gargoyle marking Dumbledore’s office and stared at it. “Nickel Naks,” Angel finally said. Naturally the password had changed.
Five minutes of candy names later, Buffy pulled out a potions vial from her jacket pocket and started to pour it over the gargoyle and spread it on the wall behind. “What are you doing?” Hermione asked.
“Pouring a dilatory erinaceous potion over the wall and the statue,” Buffy replied.
Ginny, Harry and Ron all stared. Hermione frowned. “Why are you doing that?”
“A what potion?” Ginny interrupted.
“’Dilatory’ means to be not prompt, and ‘erinaceous’ means like a hedgehog,” Hermione said, “It’s a time-delay potion that turns smaller animals into hedgehogs after about ten minutes.” She turned to Buffy. “But the only possible effect it might have is if Mrs. Norris comes by and some drips on her accidentally.” She paused and something else occurred to her. “Why do you have that anyhow? It’s notoriously hard to make.”
Buffy shrugged as she splashed the last of it onto the wall. “A couple reasons. Romilda Vane’s cat shed all over my $300 new suede boots and I was planning on changing it into a hedgehog. Those don’t shed.” Ron and Ginny nodded in understanding about the expense and revenge. Harry stared.
“You’re getting revenge because there’s cat hair on your boots?” he asked incredulously.
“It’s not the only reason,” Buffy replied defensively. “I said there were a couple.”
Angel looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Does this have to do with the lacertiform demon we ran into yesterday evening?”
“You said we need to make it melt,” Buffy said as she hunted through her pockets for something. “Ha! Found it!”
Her boyfriend was not to be deterred. “And how is something that makes small animals into hedgehogs going to make a demon melt?” he asked. The other four turned to her expectantly, waiting for an answer.
The Slayer had just pulled her hand back to toss whatever it was she had just retrieved from her pocket onto the potion-covered wall and gargoyle when Snape appeared behind them and made her drop the bag. He picked it up, sniffed it, and then said, “Witch hazel Miss Summers? Twenty points to Gryffindor for such a clever use of available materials.” As the other students gaped at him, he continued. “And fifty points for attempting to melt the entrance into the Headmaster’s office.” He smirked at her. “You didn’t honestly expect me to believe that story about Miss Vane’s cat was the sole reason you wanted the dilatory erinaceous potion.”
“Then could you let us in to see the headmaster so we don’t have to stand around trying to guess every single candy ever invented?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Or so that I don’t have to put you in detention for the rest of the year and leave Gryffindor in negative points for melting the wall of the headmaster’s office?” the professor inquired.
Shrugging, Buffy replied, “That too.”
Hermione hid her face in her hands, Harry winced and Ginny and Ron just rolled their eyes. Snape merely turned to the gargoyle and said, “Coffee Crisp.”
At that there were confused glances exchanged among the members of the group. Even Angel looked a little confused. “Is that some sort of wizard candy I don’t know about?” Buffy asked. The others shrugged.
They made their way up the stairs to the headmaster’s office and waited as Snape knocked on the door. “Come in Severus,” Dumbledore said from within the inner sanctum. Just before Hermione looked to properly awed at his omniscience, Angel jerked his head at the tiny mirror set in the wall just outside the office. Harry caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and smirked, nudging Ron and Ginny. The two just looked at Harry in a distinct lack of comprehension before he rolled his eyes and gestured that he’d explain later.
A moment later they were inside, facing Dumbledore and explaining Harry’s necessary trip to Surrey. The headmaster frowned slightly in thought for a moment after their explanation. “I agree that Mr. Potter must determine what his aunt believes she requires of him. However,” and here he raised a hand, cautioning the students. “I believe it would be most prudent for only Mr. Potter and Miss Granger to go,” as the voices of the teenagers began to rise in protest, he simply paused and watched them until they subsided, Ron and Hermione flushed in slight embarrassment and Ginny looking mutinous.
Buffy looked at them, slightly surprised at their insistence that they should be going with Harry to visit those people they all seemed to agree were really quite unpleasant. She shook herself internally. She was thinking all Giles-y again. Must be exposure to all the Britishness at the school.
“I do realise you wish to accompany Mr. Potter for . . . erm . . . support,” Dumbledore finally continued, “But I do believe that he would be better served if Mrs. Dursley was not antagonised by the presence of wizards in her home. Thus I will allow Miss Granger to accompany Mr. Potter and we will send an escort with you to ensure your safety.”
And that was the best they were going to get.
*************************************
So it was that the next day, Harry, Hermione and several members of the Order of the Phoenix they had never met before touched an old Coke can and portkeyed out to a park near to Number Four Privet Drive. They landed and Harry fell over before climbing to his feet and quickly walking toward his childhood house. “Harry, slow down,” Hermione said as she was forced to half-run to keep up with his rapid pace.
He slowed slightly and turned to her. “The faster we get there, the faster we can deal with whatever the problem may be and get back to Hogwarts.” He continued before Hermione could say anything in reply, “And the faster I can gloat with Ron, Buffy and Ginny that I’m a better person than the Dursleys.”
At that Hermione rolled her eyes and just concentrated on keeping up with Harry.
They arrived at Number Four and Harry rang the doorbell. Hermione took advantage of the momentary break to glance around the yard and the front of the house. The lawn was still perfectly clipped, not a leaf in sight. The outside of the house was utterly spotless, the shutters on the windows matching the paint colour on the door to utter perfection. It was like an idyllic postcard scene of complete suburban perfection.
Except for the scratches on the door, reminiscent of claw marks and the enormous swathe of turf that had been ripped out of the front lawn.
Before she could categorise anymore of the disturbing signs of violence, Petunia Dursley answered the door and practically dragged the two inside. “Stop standing at the door,” she hissed, “People will wonder what freaks like you are doing visiting here.”
Harry just rolled his eyes. He was used to Petunia’s overreactions to anything and everything he did. No matter that he was dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt, both of which were brand new and fit him perfectly, in no way too tight or too loose, and a pair of crisp new Nikes. Nevermind that Hermione was wearing a pair of khakis and a green long sleeved t-shirt herself. Petunia still acted as though somehow his mere being broadcasted his . . . “freakishness”.
“What are we doing here Aunt Petunia?” he asked.
She glared at him. “I want you to keep them away. I don’t care if you use that stick of yours or if you turn into one of them, you will keep them away.”
At that, Harry was completely baffled. She wasn’t talking about wizards, it was clear, she was talking about something else. “Them? Who?” He glanced at Hermione in the hope that she would have picked up on something he hadn’t noticed. She looked as puzzled as he did.
“Does this have something to do with the marks on the doors Mrs. Dursley?” Hermione inquired.
The older woman snarled. “As if you people didn’t know.” Harry was about to say something when he recognised the look and tone of voice. It was the same one that had exploded from Petunia that night when Hagrid had come to get Harry. The sound of her voice was of some violent dislike, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to explode outward. She continued, “When my parents tried to explain about the freakishness in our family I didn’t believe them. And then Lily became a witch. Why the hell that bitch got to be pretty and smart and all our parents attention, and all I got was this!” She had turned away, from them as she ranted, but now she turned back, and the shock as much as anything made Harry pull away.
Her skin had developed scales and claws were on the tips of her fingers. A look at her mouth revealed fangs. All in all, she looked very snake-like. The patterning of the scales was very lovely however, and if it weren’t for the rage and hatred on her face, she could have been quite beautiful. As it was, however, it was clear Petunia felt revulsion for her appearance.
“I don’t . . . understand,” Harry finally managed.
His aunt sneered at him. “Let me make it clear then. My grandmother was a demon spawned freak. Because of that, we’re part of some sort of clan. And they’ve been coming by and harassing me even though neither I nor Vernon want anything to do with them. You’re a freak, you get rid of them.”
At that moment, there was a banging on the door and a moment later, several snake-people, bearing a close resemblance to Petunia’s scales and claws came bursting in. “So,” said the one in the lead, “Is this him?”
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