Title: Xander Harris and the Magical Ascension
Author: Mr. Klortho
Rating: Teen (Some spotty language here and there, but it's tastefully done if I do say so myself.)
Summary: Xander finds out that he has something inside that puts him firmly out of the "normal" category, and decides to travel to a castle in Scotland to learn more about it.
Timeline: During Season 2 for BtVS, and Book 6 for HP.
Special Thanks: To my beta's: StrawberryChild, dozygirl, curius, and AmoebaFlower. Your help, suggestions, and overall support has been invaluable through this whole process. I can't thank you enough.
Disclaimer: I don't own BtVS, Harry Potter, or anything to do with either, blah blah blah.
A/N: There was some confusion in the first chapter, so just to clear up: technically, this story starts about a month after "Prophecy Girl", but it will continue to run through Season 2 of BtVS.
It was 10 AM before Xander stumbled out of his house and started on his way to Giles'. He walked north down the sidewalk, his surroundings fading away from his conscious mind. Why would Giles invite him over without Willow? It couldn't have to do with male bonding: even though they spent a lot of time together in the name of slaying, they weren't particularly close, regardless of what Giles tried to tell him in that incredibly awkward phone call.
He crossed a four way intersection, turning right onto Acri Road. Growing up he hated this road. It was where the rich people of Sunnydale lived; the ones that had what he never would. Perfect, artificial houses lined up in their perfect, little artificial rows. The whole scene could have come straight out of a postcard.
His eyes were drawn to a beautiful two story with a white picket fence. The woman working in the small vegetable garden at the side of the house sensed him watching her. Raising her hand up to her face to block out the sun, she took off one of her gloves, and gave a nice, friendly wave. Xander rubbed the back of his head, and waved back.
It amazed him to think that this woman had no idea whatsoever what the world was really about. To her, scary was getting her credit card bill or wearing the same dress twice to a formal occasion; not dealing with possessed dummies or mother/daughter witches with boundary issues. For all she knew, she was waving hello to the nice normal kid who was out for a morning stroll.
He cut across a backyard, making sure there was no dog out to attack.
If he was honest with himself, he had a feeling this visit was going to be unpleasant. Yes, Giles had said he needed him to test out a theory or something, but he could have said that to make sure he'd actually show up. The fact he was going to be there solo led him to believe Giles was being less than truthful.
He finally reached the front of Giles' upscale apartment complex. Every building stood in Spanish stucco symmetry, the only difference being the house numbers on the front doors. He made his way by memory to the courtyard outside Giles' apartment, taking a seat on the edge of the fountain.
Why was he here? That was the question that kept coming back. Unfortunately, the only answer he could imagine was that Giles was going to ask him to stop fighting. What if Giles told him he was being a detriment to Buffy and her ability to combat the supernatural, or something else decidedly British? Could he do it? Could he walk away? Would it be the right thing to do?
Part of him knew he was probably freaking out for no good reason, but he couldn't help it. This past year had opened his eyes to the truth, and going back didn't seem like an option anymore, no matter how much he may sometimes envy people like the garden lady.
Obviously finding out that pretty much all the monsters you thought were under your bed growing up most likely were under your bed was enough to make him want to invest in a night light and a flamethrower. But on the other hand, he was actually doing something worthwhile, which was more than he ever expected from his life.
He took a deep breath. No use holding off any longer. He knocked on the front door and waited a few seconds for Giles to answer.
Giles opened the door in rumpled clothing, rubbing his red eyes. "Oh, Xander, good, you're here. Please, come in."
The last time he was here he'd joked to Willow that Giles was living in "Quasi-British bachelor chic." There were books strewn across the well kept apartment, including the stairs that led to the second floor. The furniture was plush and upscale, but still comfortable and cozy. The smell of tea was wafting from the kitchen.
There were no dirty pots or pans out and collecting mold like in his house, but the apartment still felt like someone lived in it.
"So," Xander started lightly as he made his way into the living room, "What's the sitch, Giles? Now that Buffy's visiting her dad in L.A., you decided to let me take a crack at slaying. I know I'm a little light on the quips, and, well, I guess the supernatural strength and fighting ability too, but I thi – oh crap."
He was spooked to turn around and find a completely unfamiliar female standing in Giles kitchen, eying him like he was a madman.
Xander let out a nervous laugh. "Aahhhh, and, ummm, and scene!" he said, taking a theatrical bow. "Count yourself lucky, not everybody gets a sneak preview of 'Countess Dracula', our twist on the classic. It's gonna be a big hit at next years Spring Review."
"Xander," Giles interrupted. His eyes crinkled in amusement. "Miss Clearwater knows about the supernatural."
"Oh thank god," Xander said as he plopped down onto the couch.
Penelope emerged from the kitchen, a strange look on her face. "Yes, well." Her speech was tinged with a very pronounced British accent. "It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Harris, I'm Penelope Clearwater," she said, marching over to him and extending her right hand, a cup of tea in her left.
She was the walking, talking epitome of what Xander imagined a British woman should look like. The conservative gray business coat and skirt she wore hid her body type completely, while her mousy hair was pulled into a very strict looking bun. Her face was bare with no noticeable makeup whatsoever. The glasses, while fantastic for actually reading, were completely unisex and devoid of any sense of fashion. She looked like she should be the principal of an all girl school, or the teacher in a Van Halen video.
Xander shook her hand in return. "Hiya," he said, "are you a relative of Giles or something?"
"Not everyone from England is related, Xander," Giles said as he made his way over, his own cup of tea in hand.
"Oh, sorry. I get confused with the whole 'stiff upper lip' thing."
Giles signaled to Penelope to take a seat as he himself sat on his recliner. "Well, be that as it may, Miss Clearwater has come a long way to talk to you."
"Me? What about?" Xander asked in surprise.
"I think it's best if we let her tell you," Giles said, blowing into his scalding drink.
Penelope was in mid-sip before she noticed the two expectant stares. She cleared her throat before speaking. "Well, yes, very well. Mr. Harris," She shifted in her seat so she was facing him, while also smoothing her skirt, "as you have no doubt been told I am a junior ministry official with the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
She plowed on. "Well, junior official is a bit of misleading term. I am the youngest member in the department, this being my first year out of school and all."
Her eyes lit up and she sat the tea cup on the coffee table. "So you can imagine my excitement when my department head offered me the opportunity to come out here and meet you. It's an incredible honor to be sent on a field assignment for someone so new to the department. Mind you, Mr. Butler thought you were some sort of fraud who had duped the ministry. But of course I knew otherwise. If Professor Dumbledore is the one to recommend you, then I believe your skills to be utterly genuine. I expect that when I report back of my success, it will open doors for me that might otherwise have stayed close."
She took a deep breath. "So, to cut to the chase, as you Muggles say, here I am."
Her face was open and her smile pleasant as she looked between Giles and Xander. It dimmed when she didn't get an immediate response.
Xander turned towards Giles. "Ummm, did you understand that? Because I only picked up like every third word."
Giles set his teacup down, flashing Penelope an apologetic look. "I must admit, I was also unfamiliar with the description."
Penelope had a peculiar expression on her face. "The Department of International Magical Cooperation," she said like a question, her voice increasing in pitch. "We're responsible for maintaining foreign relations with other governments? Like additions to the International Statute of Secrecy? Taxation on transatlantic Flooing? Even coordination between using owls and lunch boxes?"
They had no clue what she was saying.
Her posture grew rigid. "Mr. Giles," she said, sounding scandalized, "I must admit I am shocked that you have failed to discuss any of this before my arrival. I was told that Mr. Harris would be fully versed on the situation. This makes things much more difficult."
"Yes, I know." He sounded defensive. "However, knowing Xander, I thought it would be much easier if we were to do this all at once. Not to mention that if I were to tell him about the magical community, at least what little I know of it, before you could test him, it would have only set him on edge unnecessarily."
Flooing? Statute of Secrecy? Magical Community? It was one thing to not know what anyone was talking about, but it was another to have them talk about how you were connected, while acting like you weren't in the room.
"Wait, wait, wait," Xander said, "hold the phone. I have absolutely no idea what you," he said, pointing at Giles first, then Penelope, "or especially you are saying. And this time it's not because of some inside British lingo. All I know is that I was called down here bright and early on a Saturday morning, which is not only really weird, but it is also cutting into my usual eighteen hours of sleep. So can somebody please tell me what is going on?"
Giles' expression softened. "Xander, I apologize. You are completely right."
"Yes, absolutely," Penelope added.
Giles leaned forward in his seat, his gaze intense. "Now, I promise, we'll - or more accurately Miss Clearwater - will explain everything that's going on. But, I think the best thing to do first is to actually test my theory, as I discussed with you over the phone. This way everyone knows where we stand."
Xander shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, fine, if you think that's the best way to go, I'm game. What do I have to do, answer a couple of questions or something? It's not an essay is it?"
"Actually, it's much easier than that." She got up and grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter. She dug to the bottom of the bag, eventually pulling out a long wooden stick.
That certainly wasn't what he expected.
"You want me to try and kill something with the world's skinniest stake?" Xander asked Giles in confusion.
"Nothing quite so dramatic," Penelope said as she sat back down. "This test is as easy as pie, as the Muggles say."
"There's that word again. What exactly is a Muggle?" Xander asked.
"A Muggle is a non magical person," Penelope said.
Xander blinked. "Non magical?" He turned to Giles. "I thought you said that anybody can do magic, some are just better at it than others."
"Yes, that is true. I did say that." Giles hesitated for a moment. "But it seems that I only gave you part of the story."
"What do you mean only part?"
"To be fair, I had only heard whispers and gossip. You see, they keep their world hidden from others who don't possess their type of magic. I had never run into any practitioner, nor have I ever seen any texts until recently. Basically, it is out of our realm of influence, so I don't include it when we need to research."
Penelope chimed in. "Mr. Harris, the magic that you are familiar with is different than the magic I use."
"How?"
She settled into her seat, seeming to relax for the first time. Her voice continued with polish and practice.
"My magic is a part of me. However, the magic you have dealt with, sometimes referred to as Wiccan, Earth, or Elemental, is based on harnessing the energy of the planet itself or making some sort of plea to a god or higher deity."
"So there's no smelly incense or chanting in Aramaic? Where's the fun in that?"
"No, nothing quite like that. We have our own rituals and instruments."
"For example?" Xander asked.
In response she nodded towards the wood in her hand.
Xander's eyes widened. "Wait, are you trying to tell me this stick is…" he trailed off, waving vaguely at said stick.
"Yes, it's a magical wand," she said.
"No."
"Yes."
"A magic wand," he deadpanned.
"Yes, it is a magic wand," she said slowly.
He rolled his eyes, "Yeah right."
"I'm sorry?"
"A magic wand? Can't we do better than that. I mean, that's just, I don't know," he searched for the right word, "tacky."
He turned in irritation, "Nice one, Giles. For a second there, you almost had me. Seriously, why did you bring me here, and who is she really?"
"Xander," Giles began. He sounded equally as confused as Penelope. "She's telling you the truth; that is a magic wand."
"Nope, don't buy it. It's too obvious."
"What can you possibly mean by that?" Giles asked.
"Okay, for example, I can take a gypsified vampire because it's just 'too' weird to not be true. You know what I mean?"
Giles pressed on. "So you think a magic wand is -?"
"It's completely overdone. I mean every lame brained pseudo-author who can't think of a clever way to handle plot throws in a 'magic wand'," Xander made air quotes, "to solve their problems. Plus, it's a total cliché. I mean, what's next, flying carpets and broomsticks?"
Penelope opened her mouth to answer, but Giles subtly shook his head.
"Yes, well, maybe it's prudent if Miss Clearwater demonstrate her ability."
"Yes, that would seem to be for the best," she added.
"Okay." Xander shrugged his shoulders once more. "If you want to keep pretending that -"
Shock rolled through Xander's body, the words dying in his throat. Without warning, Penelope's wrist had flicked in the direction of her teacup, causing it to shake. Xander watched with silver dollar sized eyes as the shaking increased in intensity.
Suddenly, the tea cup sprouted two spindly legs.
Xander gazed in wonder as the teacup did a little jig across the coffee table. In fact, the teacup was so into its steps and rhythm that Giles had to quickly lift his own drink off the table before the dancing cup smashed into it.
There had been many strange sights in his life, but this one was quickly climbing the ranks. He looked over to find that Penelope's face was a mask of concentration as she used her wand like a conductor's baton, keeping her company in time.
With a gentle swish, she made the cup do a little bow, tea dribbling over its side.
"Oops," she said. With one last flourish of her wand, she turned the dancing cup into a linen napkin.
Of course she did.
She reached across the table to wipe up the mess, when Xander held up his hand. Penelope stopped, waiting for him to make a move.
Xander had what he considered one of the more impressive collections of science fiction and fantasy literature in all of Sunnydale. Plus he had seen every episode of Babylon 5, Quantum Leap, Dungeons and Dragons, Manimal, Battlestar Galactica, Star Trek and The Next Generation, Space 1999, Misfits of Science, and about thirty-five other classic television programs.
So, when his fingers grabbed the edge of the napkin and lifted it up, he wasn't surprised to find just tea underneath. That's because all his knowledge, all his years of studying comics, movies, and television had lead him to one unshakable, unfathomable conclusion.
It was a frickin' magic wand.
"I trust that was a suitable demonstration," Penelope asked.
Xander didn't answer immediately. "Xander, are you alright?" Giles asked.
He eased his body slowly back onto the couch. "Oh yeah, sure. Dancing dinnerware was what I was totally expecting today. Either that or the ghost of J.F.K." He looked towards Penelope. "So is that the test? Seeing that done and not trying to burn you at the stake?"
"No." Her demeanor was all business. Apparently the threat of being burned alive had no effect on her. "Actually, the test is for you to take my wand and say the words, "Veneficus Videor"."
"Why?"
"Xander," Giles spoke softly. "It will tell us if you are magical."
"Me, magical? Are you kidding?" Xander asked in surprise.
"I assure you that we have good reason to believe so, but we can't be certain until you take the test."
He stared at the older man like he had grown two heads. "You're serious?"
It was Penelope who answered. "Absolutely. I wouldn't have come all this way if I didn't believe it to be true."
This whole thing sounded too freaky and absurd. Giles must have picked up on his doubt by his body language.
"I know we're asking you to take a leap of faith. But please, trust me."
Giles' face was one of pure sincerity, and seeing that eased some of the concern in his mind. "Okay, let me give it a shot."
Penelope smiled brilliantly. "Fantastic. Like I said Mr. Harris, simply say the words "Veneficus Videor", and if the wand lights up, like so." When she repeated the phrase, the whole wand pulsed in a sickly green color. "Then we'll have our answer," she finished, holding the wand out for him.
There was no part of Xander that actually believed he had magic in him, so the sooner he proved it to them, the better. When he reached out and took the wand from her hand, he was surprised to find that the wood seemed warm to the touch. The wand itself was about twelve inches long, the dark cherry color polished to a glossy shine. On closer inspection he noticed detailed carvings in the handle.
He held it eye level, twisting it around and examining it from all angles. He didn't know much about wood working, but he could tell the craftsmanship was outstanding.
"Ooooh, magic lite bright. Can't wait," he said with a grin on his face.
Xander sat up straight, holding the wand in front of him like a sword. He might as well milk it for all it's worth.
"Veneficus videor!" he said with a deep, bombastic voice.
For the first seconds, nothing happened. Of course nothing happened. This whole thing was ridiculous. He should have told them that two minutes ago and saved them all the trouble.
Stupid magic witch with her stupid magic wand and her stupid attempts at promotion. From now on she should just kiss ass and gossip like every other person. And how could Giles be so off the mark? Besides willingly wearing tweed, he was usually pretty spot on.
Twin gasps stopped him short. He looked up to find Penelope and Giles with mirror expressions on their faces; shock. Before he could ask what the problem was, he saw it. His blood froze and his mouth turned to cotton.
The wand, which shouldn't have worked since he didn't have any magic in his body, was faintly emitting a terrifying green light.
He shot up from the couch, dropping the wand like it was on fire. "What the hell was that?" he yelled.
Giles stood up slowly. "Please calm down, Xander. I promise you everything is alright," he said in a calm, soothing voice.
Xander's bitter laugh filled the room as he paced across the floor. "Oh yeah, sure, no problem. It's all going to be A-okay, he says. It's not like I just found out everything about my life is a lie," he muttered.
A small frown marred Penelope's face. "But I don't understand. Why are you surprised? You knew what we were testing for."
"I didn't think it was real! Were you not just here when I went on my wand rant? What part of that wasn't clear?"
Penelope clearly didn't think any part of his reaction was clear. "I apologize, but I thought, with what you are involved in, this would be considered wonderful news."
His angry eyes met hers; "So apparently they teach you how to make all the silverware you can handle in 'Magic Land', but they avoid that whole, 'don't be an insensitive creep' training us lowly public school kids receive."
"Xander," Giles snapped. The forceful tone brought a halt to Xander's pacing, but he kept his back to the other occupants. "I know this must be difficult for you. No matter what we suspected, it's obviously a great surprise to everyone. However, that does not give you the right to be cruel or demeaning to Miss Clearwater. She has taken a very arduous, very long trip to come here and assist us. It would be nice if you would show her the proper respect she deserves."
He continued, losing his biting edge. "Now then, there are very important decisions and discussions that need to take place. Normally the best course of action would be to wait until you were comfortable with the situation." The word 'comfortable' brought a snort of disbelief from Xander. "Unfortunately we're working on a bit of an accelerated timetable and Miss Clearwater needs to return to England as soon as possible."
Giles sat back in his chair. "Now, will you please join us once again so can begin?"
Xander stood stock still. It wasn't that he was trying to be stubborn; well, not much at least. It was that he honestly didn't think his body could move. Shock, fear, anger, and about a million other emotions flooded every fiber of his being.
He wasn't human. That thought pounded like a sledge hammer. He didn't know what he was now, but normal people don't just make teacups do a soft shoe routine and turn into something else entirely. Now he finds out he's part of what ever group Penelope belongs to. What did he call himself now: magician, warlock, freak?
It felt like a lifetime ago that he was afraid he was getting pushed out of the group. Now it seems that he may be more involved than he ever imagined. That thought made him sick to his stomach.
He eased back onto the couch. "Now what?" he croaked.
Giles and Penelope exchanged glances. "I think it's prudent to start at the beginning," Giles began, "and that means telling you why I first suspected you may be magical."
"Now," Giles said, picking up his cup of tea, "let me ask you a question. What do you remember from the night in the Master's lair?"
Giles realized how ridiculous the question was from the look on Xander's face. He immediately backpedaled and sputtered, "I'm sorry, that was stupid of me. I apologize for being insensitive."
Penelope chimed in. "Actually, if it's amenable to the both of you, I would like to go over a basic timeline of the evening. If we could start from when Mr. Harris and the vampire first made their way into the underground structure you refer to as 'The Master's Lair' then I can hopefully get a better idea of what transpired."
When she finished speaking she pointed her wand at the wet napkin, flicked her wrist, and turned it back into a teacup. Her voice was much more clinical and professional than before. She also avoided making eye contact with Xander.
"I assumed that you already knew the events of the evening," Giles said, a puzzled look on his face.
"I did read the report, but one never knows what information they can glean from hearing the particulars straight from the source."
"I don't think it's important to -"
Xander cut him off. "It's fine Giles. Let's just get this over with."
"Are you sure, Xander?" Giles asked.
A part of him was touched that Giles seemed to actually care about his feelings. Unfortunately that part was getting eaten by the massive part of him that just wanted this conversation to end.
"Yeah, I'm cool." He turned and faced Penelope. "There's not much to tell. Me and Angel went down into the sewers, which is about as fun as it sounds. Then we went searching for the actual lair part, which, don't even get me started on a vampire having an underground cave that he calls a 'lair'."
"What did you discuss with the vampire?"
"Umm, didn't really discuss anything. It was our usual communication: I mocked, he bantered, I told him not to bite me -"
"Wait," Penelope said, her eyes large, "he was going to bite your neck?"
"Just in the metaphorical sense." Xander pressed on, "Anyway, we finally got to the lair, where we ah, saw Buffy face down in the puddle of water." Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a fleeting expression on Giles' face.
"And you administered, umm," she paused as reached across the table, grabbing a notebook. She held up a finger as she rifled through it. "Yes, here it is, CPR?"
"Yeah," Xander confirmed. "He said he didn't have the breath to do it, so I had to, and I did. It worked; Buffy got up, stronger than ever, and kicked the Master straight into the world's biggest stake."
Penelope didn't follow up initially. She was too busy looking at her notepad to make sure that the feather pen, that was floating in mid air along with the notepad mind you, was taking down everything.
Ten minutes ago, this would have seemed really strange.
Giles, who from all appearances was fighting down the urge to ask her about what she was doing continued the conversation, "Did you notice anything when you performed CPR?" he asked.
Xander's eyebrows flew into his hairline. "You mean besides the fact that I was actually doing CPR? No."
"Are you sure, Mr. Harris?" Penelope asked, leaning forward. The floating pen paused, but seemed as anxious as her owner for an answer.
"I'm sure." The frustration was starting to boil over. "Can we please stop with the mystery novel routine and get to the part where you tell me everything you know?"
"We believe something happened when you brought Miss Summers back to life," Penelope said as bluntly as humanly possible.
"Xander," Giles said. His eyes were hard, the anger barely restrained towards Penelope. "What Miss Clearwater is trying to say is that we believe your resuscitating Buffy, and thus returning the Slayer essence to her body, also had an effect on you."
He could feel the blood draining from his face. "How?"
"Buffy told me that she felt stronger, yet different once she was revived. I obviously didn't mention anything at the time, but her wording concerned me."
He watched Giles visibly shifting into lecture mode. Normally he'd make a joke about it, but in this case, he stayed silent.
"I researched. As much as I could, at least." He grew more animated with each word, "You see Xander, you did something that has never been done before in the recorded history of the Watcher's Council; you revived, what was for all intents and purposes, a dead Slayer. Like I said, there was little to no information about the phenomenon; just a theory really."
Giles took a quick sip of his now cold tea. "But I simply could not understand or reconcile how Buffy could be more powerful than before. Maybe as powerful, most likely weaker; definitely not stronger. I even thought she might have been imagining it, as a sort of coping mechanism for what she needed to do. However, physical testing after that night showed that she was stronger."
Xander remembered that testing. They were still finding splinters from the demolished practice dummy.
"I also discreetly consulted with a few colleagues and contacts. No one could come up with plausible solutions. I was ready to write the whole thing off; Buffy seemed fine, there were no complications I could see, and I figured why look a gift horse in the mouth."
"What changed?" Xander asked.
"A little over a month ago, I was getting ready for bed when the thought struck me like a bolt of lightning; what if the change had nothing to do with Buffy, but with you?"
Nice to know Giles thought of him right before bed. And the hits keep coming. "I don't get it though, nothings changed with me. I'm still the same fun loving sidekick I've always been."
"I'll admit that's what I thought at first, too. In fact, I had forgotten my theory until a few weeks ago." Giles' expression became much more serious. "Xander, do you remember three weeks ago when we encountered the Ty'char demon?"
Xander's hands ran through his hair, clutching it in clumps. He remembered that night. He, Giles, and Willow had gone out patrolling. No one had really been on the streets at night since Buffy had gone to her dad's place, so they decided to at least try and do some sort of slaying. Giles had been against it, saying they weren't skilled enough, but he and Willow had overruled him. The only way he would agree to do it was if they all went together, and they carried as much holy water, crosses, and medieval weaponry as they possibly could.
They were passing through the third graveyard of the evening. They hadn't run into vamps so far. He remembered talking with Willow, making some sort of lame observation that had her laughing, when her eyes went huge. Before he could ask her what was wrong, he'd felt a crushing pain in his chest, then nothing.
"Yeah, that was the blue Greedo looking thing you sliced and diced with the broadsword, thanks to me being a distraction by getting knocked into that tree."
"It was a little more than that," Giles said in exasperation.
"You killed a Ty'char by yourself?" Penelope asked, her face a mixture of shock and appreciation.
Giles waved her off. "That's not important right now."
"Xander," the exasperation in his voice was still there in full force, "knocking you into a tree is a simple way of putting it. The Ty'char struck you in the stomach, launching you twenty-five feet into a fully mature oak. It was dumb luck that I had my sword in hand as he did it."
He continued. "Once I made sure the demon was taken care of I sprinted to you. I thought for sure you were dead."
Xander flinched. He never knew it was that bad.
"Luckily I didn't have to dwell on that fact long, because as soon as I arrived at your body I could hear you moaning. I was about to pull Willow off of you. She was almost inconsolable, and I was worried that she would aggravate any injuries you had. Instead, you opened your eyes, said you were fine, and just – stood up."
The last words were said with a sort of detached amazement.
"Why would avoiding some bumps and bruises make me magical?"
Giles ripped his glasses off. "You left a human sized indentation in the tree."
"Oh."
"Yes, now you see what I mean? There was no physical way you should have been able to get up, let alone be completely fine."
"So why didn't you say anything to me? Why the cloak and dagger stuff?" Xander asked.
As he started to answer, Giles took his teacup and headed back into the kitchen. He yelled through the open space as he prepared a fresh pot. "Well, as I said before I didn't want to worry you needlessly. I knew there was something, but I didn't know what. So, I did what I always do in this situation: research."
He made his way back into the living room, offering to freshen up Penelope's cup. "Luckily, this time the solution came much more quickly," he said as he poured Penelope's drink, and then returned to his seat.
"During my foray into trying to identify Buffy's increased strength, I ran into a diary of a Watcher from the eighteenth century, Darius Gentry, whose wife's family was magical. The diary itself was fairly innocuous; the man did absolutely no field work, and devoted his life to finding a link between vampire mating and pollen count."
"That seems rather, unnecessary," Penelope said.
Giles shook his head in agreement. "Quite. But through all the brutally mundane information, there were a few mentions of the magical world. Specifically, he mentioned his sister-in-law's young son, who fell out of a tree he was climbing. He writes his amazement at the fact that the young boy dropped over one hundred feet, bounced off the ground -"
"Jesus that's horrible," Xander cut in.
Giles gave him a slight smile. "And he also got right up, and walked away without a scratch."
"Just like me," he muttered. "How?"
Penelope was the one to answer. "Magical children have an innate ability to use their magic when the opportunity calls for it. Think of it as a reflex. In both cases your magic protected you when you were in danger."
Xander's head felt stuffed with extra strength cotton. He was hearing the words, but they weren't forming anything that could be considered a thought.
"I know that sometimes it may seem like I'm a kid and not a fully functioning semi-adult, but I'm not. A kid, that is."
"It has more to do with being untrained in magic than age," Penelope said, her matter of fact tone beginning to unnerve him.
"So, upon reading about the case, and seeing the obvious similarities to what was happening with you, I decided to contact the British Ministry of Magic. Though the magical world prefers to remain hidden from everyday life, the Watchers Council does have the means of getting in touch when necessary."
"And that's when Mr. Giles was put in touch with my department, or more specifically, me." Penelope finished. "Now, do you have any questions?"
The first laugh bubbled up uncontrollably. He tried to rein it in; he really did. But it was a losing battle. He laughed so hard and so loud that his sides felt like he'd run five miles. That question was up there with, 'Gee Mrs. Lincoln, except for the shooting, how was the play?'. Even Giles was having trouble maintaining a straight face.
He swiped his eyes, and when he got settled down enough to speak, he said, "Maybe just one or two."
Sadly, this set him off once more. Giles was now laughing right beside him, but to a lesser, more dignified degree, of course. Penelope seemed to have learned quickly about the people she was keeping company with, because she just sat there primly and properly, not saying a word.
"Woooooh!" Xander blew out. "I'm sorry about that. It's been kind of a weird day." He took a few deep, cleansing breaths. "Okay, okay, I'll get serious. First question: why now?"
"You mean why didn't your magic manifest itself earlier?" Penelope asked.
"Uh-huh."
"That's actually why your case is so remarkable." She was getting excited again, eager to impart whatever bit of wisdom or knowledge she thought was absolutely riveting.
Despite her obvious aspirations, Xander knew she would never make it as a politician; she had absolutely no ability to read people or situations. If she did, she might not be gushing in front of the guy who just had his world rocked.
"You see, you are the first person to live their entire life on the Hellmouth and show any sort of magical ability."
"From what I've been told, Xander," Giles said, "the Hellmouth has a very negative effect on Miss Clearwater's magic."
"That is correct. It first manifests as a peculiar sensation; like something crawling up my spine. Then it begins to affect my control. For example, if I had been here for more than a few days, that spell I just performed on the teacup would have necessitated a verbal incantation. Eventually, if I were to stay here for any serious length of time, it would begin to destabilize my magical abilities altogether"
Xander looked at her in horror, "Wait, so that's going to happen to me, too! I just got this thing!"
"It's possible, but unlikely," Giles said, his voice reassuring. "The fact that you have lived on the Hellmouth your whole life should make you immune."
He continued, "You see, we think that since you were so close to Buffy at the time of the Slayer essence returning to her body, that essence was powerful enough to, well, 'put a crack in the wall' that the Hellmouth put around your magic, so to speak. At the same time, her essence was supercharged by interacting with the magic in your body, which is why Buffy feels so much stronger."
Penelope picked up once again. "As I was saying earlier, you are the first recorded individual possessing magical ability who has lived their entire lives on the Hellmouth. To be fair, the Wizarding world doesn't have many records or information on the Hellmouth. Since it's so negative for us, we tend to avoid it. Even though your magical ability is on the very low end of the scale, your case is still remarkable. You can teach us things about the very essence of magic that until now has been impossible to study."
Xander didn't like the gleam in her eye. "I don't plan on being a lab rat for you, if that's what you're getting at."
"There may be some testing, but nothing more strenuous than a simple doctor's check-up," Giles said while Penelope shifted in her seat. It appeared as if she would have liked to answer that question a little differently.
Giles expression brightened, "You know Xander, I think that once you've had some time to digest the information and what it means, that you'll realize that this could be a very good thing for you."
Though his overall feeling was still utter fear, he was starting to think Giles had a point. He could see some serious possibilities with this. He could be magic guy for the group, with the flick of his wrist turning vampires into soft bunnies ready for the slaughter. Well, maybe not bunnies; that would just be depressing.
"-so when you're finished with your year at Hogwarts, you should have a very rudimentary knowledge base."
What a time to tune back in.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
"I said that after studying for a year at Hogwarts, with a little hard work and determination on your part, you should have a basic level of magical knowledge that will help you to assist the Slayer," Penelope answered.
"Okay, yeah, just wanted to make sure I heard you right," Xander said with a strangled voice.
"Yes Xander, you would attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a full year to obtain your training." Giles tone was way too matter of fact for him.
"Umm, no?"
Penelope looked at him strangely. "I'm sorry?"
He started fidgeting in his seat. "I don't want to go to another school."
"Why in the world would you not want to go and learn magic?" Penelope asked, completely flummoxed.
"Because I just found out about it literally ten minutes ago, and now you want me to drop my entire life to go run off and play real life 'Dungeons and Dragons'. Maybe if somebody could come here and tutor me I'd do it. Heck, they could just tutor Willow and then she could teach me. It would take less time that way."
Penelope looked towards Giles. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't work like that."
"Then I don't want to do it."
"No one's going to make you do anything Xander," Giles said, though his tone indicated otherwise. "But this is a wonderful opportunity for you and your future and I think it would be a mistake to dismiss it so quickly just because the school is in Scotland."
Scotland?
He could imagine what he looked like to Giles and Penelope with his mouth hanging open in shock like it was.
"Are you high?" he blurted out to Giles. "Why would you make me go all the way to Scotland? Aren't there schools that aren't on the other side of the globe?"
"Unfortunately the magical community in the United States won't permit you to attend any school here. They say you're too old to start learning now, and your association with the Hellmouth is, in their words, unsavory," Penelope answered.
"Xander, no one is saying this wouldn't be a difficult adjustment, but I believe you're letting your fear of change make this decision for you."
"Of course I am!" Xander said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I can barely survive high school right now, and I've known those kids for ten years! There will be all new Cordelia Chase's to deal with, and frankly, I've already used all my best witty remarks on her. I refuse to recycle my material."
Giles ripped his glasses off his face. "Will you be serious for a minute and think about this? Really think about it instead of jumping to a rash decision. From what I understand Hogwarts is one of the top Wizarding academies in the world. This is not just the kind of opportunity you set aside because you're afraid of fitting in."
Xander met his slightly biting tone with one of his own. "Well Giles, I seriously don't want to go, and all the razzle dazzle in the world won't make me."
Giles ran his hands through his hair, his agitation and exhaustion simmering just below the surface. "Dammit Xander, don't you see? This is a chance to make something of yourself; a chance to finally contribute something meaningful to the group."
The words felt like a stinging puncture right through is ribcage. He shot up from the couch. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Giles only now seemed to realize what he had said. "Xander, I am so sorry, that's not what -"
"I'm out of here," he muttered, throwing open Giles' door and sprinting into the afternoon sunlight.
"Wait, please, I know we've gone about this poorly, but if you would just - " Those were the last words he heard before he exited the courtyard.
He had been prepared for bad news since Giles had called that morning; but this was worse. Giles wanting him to leave, knowing him so little to think that he would just drop everything to go learn a few magic tricks was upsetting. But his final words were worse. Even though he had heard it from his father more times than he could count, hearing Giles say he was worthless hurt him more than he wanted to admit.
All he knew then was that he needed to get far away from Giles' place as fast as possible.
He reached Acri Road in record time. In his haze of confusion, he looked up and saw that same woman tending to her garden. Without thinking he waved to her once more.
This time, she didn't wave back.