Disclaimers, et al., can be found at the beginning of Part One

HARRY POTTER AND THE EXILED SLAYER

INTERLUDE 2: OLD FRIENDS, A SAD REDHEAD, AND A VENGEFUL DARK LORD

Giles finished the entry in his journal and closed the volume, shaking his head in dismay at how badly things could have gone if Gachnar the fear demon had not been so diminutive. For all of her successes, Buffy could still be frighteningly impulsive at times, and it had been sheer luck that her decision to destroy the symbol had indeed turned out to be the most expeditious method of disposing of the problem. Or not so lucky, perhaps: her instincts might well have led her to the solution. The Council should have undertaken practical testing of the intuitive abilities of Slayers long ago: perhaps I should broach the subject with Buffy—

There was a knock at his door, and Giles raised an eyebrow. It must be a salesman: no one I know here bothers to knock He chuckled at his cynical reaction, then got up and walked to the door, opening it. He blinked in surprise and said quietly, "Good Lord."

"Not really—just an old friend who happened to be in town and heard you were living at this abode." Remus Lupin smiled at the surprised former Watcher and added, "From what I hear, invitations to enter in these parts can result in one becoming a hot supper, so I'll simply come in and let you eject me if the mood strikes you." Remus stepped across the threshold—causing Giles to relax subliminally—and turned back to face the older man as his smile widened and he added: "How in the hell are you, Rupert?"

Giles closed the door and replied, "'Hell' has pretty much been the word for it for the last three years, as I suspect you know if you knew to find me here and to not expect to be invited in." He reached out and firmly shook hands with the wizard before asking, "Now—what in the devil are you doing here, Remus? The Hellmouth is no place for someone who depends on Wizarding magic to defend himself."

Remus shuddered, then replied, "I know a few reliable tricks that should keep me safe—Professor Dumbledore didn't hire me as the Defense Against The Dark Arts professor four years back because of my dashing looks and history as a ruthless prankster, after all." Giles nodded, and Remus studied him carefully and noted, "You don't seem terribly surprised by that piece of news—am I to take it that you're aware of current events back home?"

Giles hesitated, then nodded again--though slowly and reluctantly--before elaborating, "I've got a friend in London who summarizes the important pieces from The Daily Prophet and a few other Wizarding papers and mails them to me as mundane written reports every week or so—I can't have Wizarding papers lying around here: too many questions to answer from my charges if they spotted one."

Remus blinked, a little surprised. "You mean you haven't told them about the Wizarding World? Considering all you've been through in the past three years, I'd have thought that some incident or another would have forced you to let loose the secret."

Giles shook his head. "Wizards give this place a wide berth, and the Council was always firm about keeping Slayers out of contact with the Wizarding community. When the fools fired me back in January—" Remus winced, having heard that story through Dumbledore's sources, and he directed a sympathetic expression at Giles, who acknowledged the sentiment with a glance and continued: "—I sent a letter to the Ministry of Magic requesting guidance as to the circumstances under which I should reveal the secret. Given the rather inept level of performance I've noted in the reports until recently, I was surprised at the sensibility of the reply: I was authorized to tell any and all of the young people who have been working with me about the secret if in my best judgment it was necessary for them to know in order to deal with the threat we were facing."

"The timing of your request was probably fortunate—Scrimgeour isn't a perfect Minister by any means, but he is aware of the need to bend the rules at times when the situation is dire, though that tendency has steered him wrong at times." Remus looked thoughtful as he considered Giles' comments, and after a moment he added, "As thoroughly as the notice of the Wizarding World has been attracted into your direction in the last year, Rupert, I'm impressed that you've managed to keep at least one secret up to now." Giles raised an eyebrow, and Remus let him wait for a moment before adding:

"Heard any news about Faith lately?"

Giles straightened suddenly and snapped, "You've seen her? Is she all right? How--?"

"Alive and well—and very well protected at the moment." Remus was amused—in the years he had known the former Watcher he could count the number of times he had caught the man off guard on the fingers of one hand. Giles' expression demanded an immediate answer, and the werewolf decided not to risk violence by being coy: "She wandered into a Wizarding commerce center by pure chance, and ran across some Death Eaters who saw a chance to ingratiate themselves with their bastard of a Master by capturing her. She was putting up a vicious fight before a Special Operative of the English Ministry of Magic came upon the scene, dispatched the rest of the Death Eaters, and spirited Faith off to a safe location. Since that time, he has been training her and instructing her in the ways of our world, as she is now at risk from the dark element within it."

Remus saw Giles relax visibly, and was about to elaborate further when the sound of scratching at the front door echoed through the room. Both men turned to the door in surprise, and Giles was about to step forward to investigate when a tentative knock followed the scratching. Giles blinked in even greater surprise, and hastened to open the door—where the sight of Buffy stroking the brow of a beautiful black owl perched on her arm caused his jaw to drop in complete confusion.

Buffy—who had decided to stop by to thank Giles for completely bailing the Scoobies out of a seriously unpleasant situation the night before—registered that her Watcher was completely stunned for whatever reason, and her first instinct was to explain the weirdness: "Hey—I just decided to stop by, and I saw this pretty owl smacking your front door: when I walked up she decided to play nice with me. What's the deal?"

Giles blinked again, then again, and it was Remus who reached out and retrieved the letter that was attached to the owl's left leg. The owl screeched in thanks and darted into the morning sky with breathtaking speed, and Remus glanced at the address written on the letter before handing it to Giles—after which he bowed deeply to Buffy and stated simply, "It is a great honor to meet you, Miss Summers—my name is Remus Lupin."

Buffy favored Remus with a polite nod, then looked pointedly at Giles and asked, "This isn't another of your morally ambiguous friends from your days as 'Ripper,' is he? I really don't want to have to deal with more Chaos magic, thank you very much."

Giles was not listening to Buffy: he had not received a letter by owl in the entire time he had been in Sunnydale—even his correspondence with the English Ministry of Magic had been conducted through Muggle post--and he was intent on finding what had caused one to turn up on his doorstep on this day. Remus noted the former Watcher's absorption and took it upon himself to reply, "Rupert is an old family friend, Miss Summers, and I have. . .sources that allow me to be aware of who you are and what you have done for this world. Please accept my thanks and tell your friends the same when you see them next."

Buffy gave Remus a somewhat bewildered but pleased look—she didn't hear something like that every day. "That's very. . .nice of you, Mr. Lupin." She looked appraisingly at him and asked, "What exactly are these sources? It's not like what we do is showing up on the front pages of newspapers."

Buffy wondered at the sudden grin on Remus' face before he composed himself and replied apologetically, "I'm sorry, Miss Summers, but—like you—I have certain obligations of secrecy to maintain—"

"Good Lord." Remus and Buffy turned to see Giles staring at the letter with a stunned expression, and it was a moment before the older man was able to look at his friend and his Slayer and comment, "It looks as if she's going to find out in any event, Remus. That piece of news you came to give me just sent me a letter—and Buffy and I apparently need to make a trip to the Los Angeles branch of Gringotts. Care to join us?"

Remus raised an interested eyebrow and took the letter from Giles' hand as Buffy stared at both Englishmen and asked, "What's a Gringotts?"

Luna reached out and squeezed Ginny's shoulder, then left the library. Ginny turned for a moment to watch her best friend leave, then turned back to the massive Potions text in front of her—Professor Slughorn had warned his NEWT-level students that a major exam would be coming soon, and she was ruthlessly reviewing the course outline that Hermione had thoughtfully provided for her in preparation for that inevitable event. She would have to leave in an hour for the final practice before the next day's always-thrilling Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch clash, but she was going to use that time to good effect. It wasn't as if she had anything more enjoyable to do during that time.

It had been almost three months now since Harry had come to the Burrow with a solemn expression on his face. She had not seen him since the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding, and she had been busy completing the OWLs that had been postponed after the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts that had maimed Bill and killed Professor Dumbledore. Her grades had come back, and—while they had not rivaled Hermione's marks from the year before—they placed her well into the top part of her class. She had been planning her schedule for her sixth year when Harry arrived with Hermione and Ron flanking him like bodyguards. Harry had turned to his best friends and asked for a moment of privacy, and when they were alone he had spoken quietly but urgently to her. He had obtained the assistance of the Minister of Magic for his plan, and carrying it out was going to involve a massive degree of deception directed both at Voldemort and the entire Wizarding World. She had stared at him with wide eyes, and he stared back for a silent moment before he added quietly, "I need your help with this, Ginny." She had consented before hearing another word, and had not stopped regretting it since.

There had been great uncertainty as to whether Hogwarts would open at all in the fall, with the horror over the attack and the resultant death of the most powerful wizard on the side of Light. In those dark days in early August, it was rumored that neither Harry Potter nor his close friends would be attending—causing widespread concern among the families of muggleborn students that none of their protectors would be present. In a press conference held in Diagon Alley, Harry Potter had laid those rumors to rest—with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley standing by his side and the rest of the Weasley clan in the front row, he announced that he would attend Hogwarts in the fall and urged that all who would stand against the darkness to help them keep the school open. After a long moment of silence, the waiting reporters and the rest of the crowd burst into cheers, and—other than the predictable but lamentable drop in the ranks of Slytherin House, now headed by Professor Slughorn—the number of returning students had exceeded the wildest hopes of Professor McGonagall and the rest of the staff. Ginny had stood by and listened to the cheers, and known that it was all a lie.

Oh, Ron and Hermione were there for the first day, and they managed to attend most of their classes—but they disappeared for extended periods of time on "school business" that the Headmistress was remarkably uncommunicative about when asked by the curious. As for Harry. . .Ginny was shocked that anyone could believe that the dark-haired young man who was dutifully attending seventh-year classes was Harry Potter, scar or not. Tonks had the physical appearance down pat, but Harry's mannerisms. . .his daily routine? Not even close. The announcement that he was giving up Quidditch for the time being to concentrate on more weighty matters helped—Tonks would sooner be able to Transfigure Voldemort into a Flobberworm with a wandless spell than to simulate Harry's brilliance on the Firebolt—but for "Harry Potter" to simply stand by while other NEWT DADA students produced Patronuses? Ridiculous—but no one seemed inclined to question the oddity, though she had noted Luna, Neville, and a few others giving her sympathetic looks when she and "Harry" were in close proximity. Of course, since Harry and she were still broken up both in reality and as far as the rest of the world was concerned, those looks could have been for completely obvious reasons rather than failure of the masquerade—she was afraid to ask.

Harry occasionally appeared as himself at public events—with Tonks shadowing him with grim efficiency when he did—but usually it was Tonks appearing and risking a Death Eater attack when "Harry Potter" was needed to make a stirring speech urging continued resistance against "Little Tom Riddle and his gang of bigoted thugs." Ginny always had to suppress a grin when she heard that—it might be Tonks delivering the insult to the gasps and cheers of the crowds, but the words were pure Harry. Voldemort had not taken the insults lying down, and his anger had shown in the poor planning of the retaliatory attacks—the Death Eaters had taken substantial casualties in recent weeks, though they had not come without significant losses among the ranks of the Aurors and those they protected.

Ginny also heard the whispers about the new hero who stalked Death Eaters wherever they might be. The Wizarding papers dealt openly in rumors of him—a figure in fine silk robes who darted from the shadows as the masked wizards were about to slay their targets and left them quivering on the ground before vanishing in a display of flowing dark hair and sparkling magic. Some wondered if Dumbledore had cheated death and was masquerading as a younger man to prevent being recognized, while others wondered if Sirius Black had returned from beyond the veil to avenge himself against Peter Pettigrew and his dark master. . .and those were the tamest of the rumors. Ginny shook her head and wondered at how the world would react to the name of Connor Galleon—and at the astonishment that would follow if that mask was lifted.

Ginny set her jaw, and went back to work. No one would learn the secret from her—if this was what Harry wanted her to do to contribute to the war effort, then she would give it—but when it was all over and she had him alone, she would be having a long, long talk with the young man she loved about having left her here while he went off to save the world.

"CRUCIO!"

The young Death Eater screamed in agony, and Voldemort savored the sound like a fine wine as he slowly circled the writhing wizard, keeping his wand trained on target as he stared down with his red eyes. After a moment, he lifted the curse and whispered, "That was just to get your attention, Colson—there's plenty more where that came from if you try to hide details from me again. Now: how is it that a single young woman—even a Slayer—managed to defeat all four of you?"

John Colson took a couple of ragged breaths before looking up at his Master and gathering his thoughts: he knew that another misstep would probably be his last. He coughed, then replied, "The stunner we hit her with had little effect, my Lord—we wanted to capture her relatively intact, and she attacked immediately after we offered her a chance to surrender. Smith went down immediately, and after a few minutes Adamson was also rendered unconscious. Walters and I had her wounded and on the run when I heard someone shout 'Stupefy!' Walters went down, and I was turning to see what had happened when I got hit too. I only caught a glimpse of him before blacking out—and I woke up in custody of Magical Law Enforcement in Anaheim. You know the rest, my Lord."

Voldemort glared at his servant. "Indeed I do." He had caught wind of the capture of the four Death Eaters from his sources in California, and had arranged for a single Portkey to be smuggled to Colson—whom he knew to be the brightest of the group, though such things were relative. He watched Colson shiver for another moment before asking quietly, "What did you see in that glimpse, Colson?"

"A tall wizard with long dark hair, my Lord." Colson replied eagerly, hoping to spare himself further pain. Voldemort's eyes widened and seemed to glow redder, and the young Death Eater recoiled and asked, "Have I offended you?"

"STUPEFY!" The stunner from Voldemort's wand crashed into Colson and instantly rendered him unconscious, and Voldemort took several deep breaths: the rage he had felt had almost caused him to use Avada Kedavra without thinking and—failure in this mission aside—the boy had promise as a Death Eater.

"My Lord—are you all right?" The quiet voice of Severus Snape drifted into Voldemort's ears, and he intentionally paused for a moment before turning to his trusted advisor and glaring. Snape did not flinch, but immediately dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robe before whispering, "Forgive my presumption, but you have been exerting yourself greatly in recent days, and this news was most unwelcome."

Voldemort snorted. "Stop acting like a nursemaid, Severus: it really isn't you—and get up. I'll let you know when I want you to grovel." Snape complied immediately, and the Dark Lord looked carefully at the Potions Master before shaking his head in disgust and adding, "You're right about the news being unwelcome, and in more ways than one—I take it you recognized the description."

Snape nodded. "The description matched that from the rumors about Connor Galleon—he certainly is getting around. That makes eight major United States cities he's been seen in, along with the seven cities in Europe, six in Asia—and that dark ritual in central Australia he stumbled across. It's enough to make one wonder if he's used ritual magic to duplicate himself once or twice, given all the appearances he's managed to make in England during that same period."

Voldemort shook his head. "Those rituals greatly weaken the recipient—particularly without the use of dark magic to power them—and he's been described universally as being very powerful. No, it's reasonable to guess that he's one man, and—given the reports of my spies within the Ministry—he's a Special Operative, which would give him access to International Floos without running afoul of red tape. When I succeed in capturing Scrimgeour, I will question him at length about the point, among many others." Voldemort turned away from Snape, looking at a painting of a darkly glowing rune as he added, "Severus, I need some time to consider recent developments—take Colson with you as you go." He heard the sound of motion as Snape bowed, and heard the whisper of fabric as Snape's silent spell lifted the unconscious wizard from the stone floor. After a moment, the door closed, leaving Voldemort alone with his thoughts.

That man is becoming a nuisance Voldemort stared at the glowing rune, using it to focus his thoughts as he considered the news. Potter's unexpected emergence as an inspirational leader even as he completed his education had been an irritating enough development, but the Ministry's new operative was becoming a folk hero in his own right, and folk heroes had a nasty tendency to make people who would never otherwise consider sticking their necks out decide to get involved. The description of "Connor Galleon" didn't match that of any relatively recent Hogwarts graduates, and his investigations had not revealed any graduates from other wizarding schools who fit the description or who bore that surname; clearly, the name that he had learned through great effort was an alias, and the man's appearance a disguise.

If he is a man at all Voldemort's spies had noted a curious thing: Galleon had been spotted at several of Harry Potter's public appearances, but never at one when Auror Nymphadora Tonks was in attendance. Tonks was well known as being a Metamorphmagus, and her fighting skills were well regarded: perhaps she was assuming an alternate identity to create this legend. Voldemort pondered the matter, and decided to try to have the Auror shadowed during one of her rare public appearances—perhaps she would lead the way to the mysterious Connor Galleon, or simply become him.

Ah, Potter: what to do about you? While Connor Galleon was an acute problem, Voldemort knew that Harry Potter was ultimately going to be the most significant threat to his plans. The boy was exceedingly powerful, and growing more so by the day—though Harry had learned to shield his mind against any probing or false images directed at him by his enemy, Voldemort could sense the power even through the blocked link between the two of them. He was not yet an even match for Voldemort—and almost certainly never would be—but he would soon be powerful enough to be a danger, and he had powerful allies even after Dumbledore's demise.

Voldemort turned away from the painting and walked to a tall oak cabinet carved with disturbing runes. He opened it and took out a silk bag closed with a drawstring. He closed the cabinet, looked at the grandfather clock on the far wall of the room, then turned to the door and pointed his wand at it as he hissed a complex phrase in Parseltongue. The door vanished as if it had never existed, leaving solid stone in its place. Voldemort grunted in satisfaction—the ritual he was about to perform would take more than twenty-four hours to complete and would leave him more or less helpless for twenty-four more when he completed it. The Fidelius Charm would guarantee that the otherwise negligible chance that his enemies might attack his fortress during this time would be reduced to zero, and the removal of the door would remove the temptation for his minions to attack him while he was vulnerable. Severus would be more than capable of handling matters while he was out of touch—his regard for the former Hogwarts professor had grown immensely in the past few months: he had been so pleased at the news of Dumbledore's death that he had refrained from using the Cruciatus Curse on Snape for what had been, after all, a technical violation of his orders to young Draco Malfoy.

Snape's report of his humiliating defeat of young Potter had caused the Dark Lord to cackle in glee before praising him to all present as the ideally obedient Death Eater: one who had passed up a clear-cut chance at personal vengeance in deference to his Master's orders. He had feigned reluctance before granting Severus' quiet request to spare Draco's life, but at length he had glared at the visibly terrified boy and hissed, "You did well to a point, Draco—but you are still too soft and weak to serve me adequately. I will commend you to the continued supervision of your old professor, and I suggest that you become a better student of the path he leads you down." He had brought out his wand with lightning speed and directed the Cruciatus Curse at Draco for five full seconds before lifting it and concluding, "Any further failures on your part will make that experience seem like a fond memory." He had nodded to Severus, who led the shaking boy away.

Voldemort smiled inwardly. You think yourself safe behind the walls of Hogwarts and those of your mind, Potter. There is magic that can overwhelm all of that, if one is willing to pay the price. Tomorrow, as you watch your friends play Quidditch, sitting in your place of honor in front of the entire school, you will feel my power and know that Voldemort can reach you wherever you hide—and the Wizarding World will hear your screams and tremble! Having indulged that inner moment of triumph, Voldemort reached into the silk bag and pulled out a handful of diamond dust. He began to trace a circle in the center of the room, and the dust glittered in the dim light of the room as it drifted into place.

. . .to be continued

As always, comments are welcomed and desired.