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.
Xander awoke to a scream.
Actually if he was being completely accurate, he woke up from the scream and the blinding flash of light. That meant it doubly sucked, since he was having such a pleasant dream involving a particular blond Vampire Slayer wearing a particular metal bikini from a particular epic trilogy.
The Charms textbook he was reading the night before flopped to the ground next to a shocked Neville, who had somehow ended up on the cold stones, wrapped in his bedding.
"Sorry!" Harry screamed out from across the dormitory.
Seamus and Dean laughed uproariously. Xander's heart finally stopped pounding when he saw what the commotion was all about: Ron was hanging from mid-air upside down, like his ankle was caught in an invisible hook.
"Hang on – I'll let you down -" Harry yelled out.
As Neville popped up, looking just as confused as Xander felt, Harry furiously flipped through a book on his lap. He stopped, peered down in great concentration at the words on the page, closed his eyes and mumbled to himself while pointing his wand at Ron.
There was another blinding flash of light. When Xander's eyes adjusted, he saw Ron laying face down on his comforter.
"Sorry," Harry said feebly.
Seamus and Dean laughed even harder, and this time Neville joined in.
"Tomorrow," Ron began, his face firmly planted in the pillow, "I'd rather you set the alarm clock."
Everyone broke apart and started their morning routine, including a red faced Ron Weasley, whose first order of business was to drill Harry in the head with a strategically thrown pillow.
"Psst," Xander whispered to Neville from his position on the bed. Neville stopped from tossing his covers back on his mattress.
"Please tell me that wasn't some form of wizard hazing, because if anyone hands me a dragon egg and tells me to throw it off the tower after tying it to Xander junior, I will literally walk back to California."
"Err, no mate. At least I don't think so, since I have no idea what 'hazzing' is," Neville said.
"Sweet," Xander said, kicking back his covers. "Then let's get a move on."
Thirty minutes later found Xander and Neville walking into the already buzzing Great Hall for breakfast. Though he was about as much a morning person as a vampire, there was an extra bounce to Xander's step today: it was his first visit to Hogsmeade. He was thrilled to get out of the castle and actually walk through the wizarding village he had only glimpsed on his arrival months ago. The only negative to the whole event was the blistering cold and ungodly amount of snow on the ground, both of which filled his west coast blood with abject terror. Still, he was willing to brave the walk; he just might look like an Eskimo doing it.
"Which shop do you want to go to first?" Neville asked as they slipped into chairs at the Gryffindor table.
Ever since Xander's attempt at flying (or what he dubbed as his worst idea since going by the name 'Xandmaster H' and trying to rap about Super Mario and Miss Jennings - his teacher with the hair-lip - in the fourth grade talent show), he and Neville had started hanging out whenever they both had free time.
Obviously you don't go through a life saving situation like that and NOT become great friends.
"I don't know Nev, you're the expert here: consider me like a date that needs to be wooed. Hetero-ly wooed, of course, but wooed none the less."
Neville laughed as breakfast food appeared on the table. "Well, we could start at the Three Broomsticks, get some food and a butterbeer while we're there."
"Eeeeehhhh," Xander buzzed like the wrong answer from a game show. "Dinner and drinks? Too cliched. Need more woo."
"Alright, how about Honeyduke's?" Neville asked as he heaped scrambled eggs on his plate.
"Chocolates and sweets? Jeez, if you say a walk in the garden next, I'm going to think you're not trying. A guy likes to feel appreciated, Neville. If I'm going to take the time to pretty myself up, then I want it to be for something fun."
Neville frowned at Xander.
"I've taken it too far, haven't I?" Xander asked.
"A bit, yeah."
"Fair enough."
They both ate in silence for the next few moments.
Luckily the weird vibe was interrupted by Seamus plopping down next to Neville.
"You lads gonna join us at the Hog's Head?" he asked, taking a sausage from Neville's place.
"What's that?" Xander asked.
"It's this other bar in Hogsmeade," Neville said, jabbing his fork into another sausage and staring daggers at Seamus. "We met there last year for Dumbledore's Army. The place is so filthy, I felt as if I needed a shower just stepping through the doors."
Neville had explained how their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher last year had done everything in her power to NOT teach proper defense, and thus he and some other students had founded a secret club they called Dumbledore's Army, or the D.A. for short, in order to practice defensive spells. Neville credited the meetings, and Harry Potter as leader, for making his wandwork infinitely better.
Seamus rolled his eyes. "We're not going for the lovely setting, Nev."
"It's not going to happen."
"What won't happen?" Xander asked.
"Seamus is convinced he can get the barman to slip him a bottle of firewhiskey," Neville said.
"Oh yee of little faith. You just have to know how to talk to these people," Seamus said.
"See, we grew up speaking American 'alcohol scamming' in my family." Xander said. "But what I don't know is how you say it to a Scottish wizard. Enlighten me, oh wise one."
Seamus took this as his cue to really hunker down: he leaned in, looking slowly side to side. Neville and Xander unconsciously followed his lead, looking for any eavesdroppers.
"Well," Seamus whispered conspiratorially, "the key is to act like you belong there. Walk right up to the bar, ask for the bottle of firewhiskey like you've done it a hundred times, and then just wait. Oh, and to top it off, you slip the bartender an extra galleon."
Neville and Xander both sat there quietly waiting for Seamus to continue. Instead, he just smiled and raised his eyebrows.
"That's it?" Neville blurted out. "That's your big plan?"
"What's the matter with it?"
"You're the kind of guy who would put a thermal exhaust port on his Deathstar and say, 'Hey, what are the odds?' aren't you?"
Seamus rubbed his hands together to remove any excess food. "Since I have no clue what you're talking about, I'll choose to believe that was a compliment."
Owl screeching interrupted the conversation, which was the well known signal for morning mail. Xander watched overhead as various packages and letters were dropped into the awaiting hands of the eager students.
Just when he was getting back to his breakfast, a manila envelope plopped into a bowl of porridge between he and Neville. It was sheer chance it avoided splashing either of them.
"Every time!" Xander yelled out, plucking the envelope on a clean edge with the tips of his fingers. Half the letter was covered in the grayish gloop, and it was already seeping into the paper.
"I've never seen a bird have it in for someone, mate," Neville said between laughs.
"I'm just lucky that way," Xander said sarcastically. He tried shaking off some of the excess porridge. "I mean, you forget to tip a bird one time; one time! Then the next six letters it delivers from my friends magically find their way into some sort of food. I mean, if it was a pig, I could understand why it would hate me so much."
"Why's that?" Neville asked.
"What? Oh, no reason." Xander looked around the table, and spotted his savior sitting a few seats down. "Hermione, could you help me out?"
Without looking up from the book she was reading, Hermione pointed her wand at the envelope and muttered "Tergeo," siphoning the porridge. After a second the letter looked brand new.
"You're a lifesaver, Teach," Xander said.
"I don't know why you just don't apologize," she said with raised eyebrows as she still read.
"For the last time Hermione, because it's an owl!" He drew looks from the people around him. "Besides, you're missing the all important question; why does an owl need money? Is it saving to send its little owl children to a good Ivy League school?"
"Who cares?" Seamus asked. "Just say you're sorry, will ya? I don't want to have to fetch cereal out of my hair again."
Neville waved his fork toward the letter. "It looks a little thicker than usual."
"Yeah, you're right." There was a flat bulge at the bottom of the envelope that hadn't been in the previous letters. Since he was still keeping the whole Sunnydale equals Hellmouth/Buffy equals Slayer angle to himself, Xander usually waited until he was in the privacy of his bed before reading whatever Willow and the gang had written. It sometimes led to awkward questions from his roommates. Or wacky conspiracy theories.
For example: Seamus and Dean were convinced they were naughty letters from a secret Slytherin girlfriend that he was too ashamed to admit. Their most likely candidate was Milicent Bulstrode, the girl who – rumor had it – beat Crabbe and Goyle in an arm wrestling match just last week.
But this time, with a prize at the bottom, he found that he couldn't wait. So he ripped off the top and peered inside.
"Hey! Will ya look at that!" Xander exclaimed as he pulled out a few dozen photos.
Willow and Buffy, with the entire gang present, had gone nuts with a camera. Xander didn't think he'd ever seen so many photos taken inside a library. You could tell that Giles was barely tolerating the intrusion, as there were only about five pictures of him smiling; the rest had him either rubbing his glasses or frowning, usually with Buffy standing right next to him, a cheesy look on her face. Xander didn't miss that there were also a few shots of Giles and Miss Calender, looking kind of cozy and awkward and oh my god he wasn't going to think that through any further.
Though he was shocked to see Cordelia in a lot of the pictures – as he expected she'd rather get a waxing with sandpaper then be seen in their group – he wasn't surprised at her perfect ten smile in every shot. It was hard-coded in her DNA to never take a bad photo, even if she thought the recipient was a total tool.
They must have taken these in the middle of some research session, as books were strewn in the background of many shots, most times with a person or two involved in heavy reading.
Flipping through them, one after the other, his stomach felt feathery and his heart thumped in his chest. Never did he think he'd have such a reaction to just looking at pictures of his friends.
He pressed further into the picture pile, letting out a great bark of laughter. Willow had written two full pages in an earlier letter about how much she loved 'wizarding photo Xander.' It seemed that with a lack of viable magical options, she had presented him with the next best thing.
There were about two-dozen shots of her standing there, waving at the camera one little step at a time. Xander flipped through the photos quickly, creating his own little waving Willow. He felt his mouth forming into an unconscious smile as he stared at her sunny face: she really was the smartest person he knew.
"Great Merlin, Harris; what have you been holding out on us?"
Seamus and Neville were already looking through the first batch of photos he'd set down on the table. Seamus's loud exclamation had drawn the interest of Lavender, who was just arriving at the table.
"Oooh!" Lavender pointed at a picture of a solo Cordelia. "She's pretty! Is she your girlfriend back home, Xander?" she teased in a sing-songy voice.
A quick feeling of revulsion filled his stomach. "Me and Cordelia Chase? Please. Us in a relationship could possibly be seen as a sign of the apocalypse. Besides, my wallet and patience aren't nearly big enough."
"Well then rob a bank why don't ya!" Seamus said. He picked up a shot of Buffy, Willow, and Miss Calendar. "What's the problem with these three? Or do you have something against incredibly beautiful girls?"
"Ha, ha," Xander said, snatching back the photo. "Willow, the redhead, has been my friend since before velcro shoes."
Lavender gave a squeal that didn't exactly sit well with him. "'Witch Weekly' says the most magical relationships are the ones that start off as just friends."
"I don't think they were talking about friends who slept in the same bed during sleep overs."
Seamus looked at him like he was crazy. "Umm, yeah, I think they were."
Before Xander could defend himself, Lavender asked, "What about the blond girl?"
Little trickles of sweat started pooling under his arms. And this is why he should always wait to be alone before opening his letters. "That's my friend Buffy."
"Aaaaaannnddd?" Lavender drawled. She had that sinister look in her eye native to gossiping teen girls.
"Aaaannd," he mocked, "she has a great sense of fashion and an unhealthy love of stuffed animals."
A slow smile rose on Seamus. "You're getting a little red there, mate."
Xander's eyes darted away from the grinning faces of his tormentors. The Great Hall was now twice as crowded with excited kids ready to leave, including Harry and Ron, who were obviously regaling a not so impressed Hermione with the story of Ron's wake-up. Xander wondered if he could somehow blend into the nameless mass and make a quick exit from this terrible conversation.
Or even better: He'd learn to Apparate right to his room. He knew that you couldn't technically do it inside Hogwarts, but he liked to think the founders were a compassionate bunch who put in a "Teenage Embarrassment" loophole for moments just like this.
Luckily Neville, who had picked up his 'good friend mantle' with ease, sensed his discomfort and changed the subject.
"Who's this?"
"That's my computer teacher."
All three were stunned, and not because they most likely had no idea what a computer was.
"That's a teacher!" Lavender asked.
"I'd never skip her class. In fact, I'd probably just wander in there during free periods to say a little how do you do."
Completely forgetting about teasing Xander, Seamus and Lavender started arguing the advantages and disadvantages of having a good looking teacher for a class, even bringing in a few other Gryffindors to back up their points.
Neville gave Xander a smile and nod, and then joined in the discussion. Xander quietly swept up the photos and put them back in the envelope, taking a deep, satisfying breath. He would read the letter when he had the chance to be alone.
For now, he had to totally argue against Lavender's ridiculous belief that teacher's who were better looking than their female students were bad for morale.
Eventually Xander and Neville made it out of the Great Hall, and started slugging their way toward Hogsmeade. Every step was like a new torture on Xander's exposed skin. The only thought that kept his legs moving was the hope that Hogsmeade was better than Disneyland and the Playboy mansion wrapped in one big pile o' fun.
Unfortunately that was not the case.
As soon as they rose over the hill that let them see the small wizarding village, it became apparent that only about half the buildings were open. Xander shifted his frozen body toward Neville. "Is having your lights off and doors closed an old wizarding tradition that means, 'come on in?'"
"No," Neville said. He blew on his hands to try and give any bit of warmth. "Usually all the shops love to see the students come down."
The next question of "why" was on the tip of Xander's tongue before he realized the answer for himself: Voldemort.
Suddenly the festive air around him felt that much colder, had that much more of a bite to it. Barring the occasional run in with some bad-mannered Slytherins, it was relatively easy for Xander, while inside Hogwarts, to put the idea of war out of his head. Days like today though, put the status of magical Britain into perfect clarity.
"So, eh, where to first?" Neville asked, walking once again. His voice was flat and he was looking straight ahead.
Xander hesitated. "I have a question about Voldemort."
Neville actually hissed and looked away. "I wish you wouldn't do that," he mumbled.
Xander rolled his eyes. "I don't get you Neville." They crossed the threshold into Hogsmeade. The streets were bare; students had poured themselves into every open shop to avoid the cold.
Xander continued. "You have no problem going toe to toe with Crabbe and Goyle even though there's a solid chance they could literally punch you through a wall, but as soon as I say HIS name, you clam up like Grandma Longbottom just found your stash of girlie mags."
"You don't understand."
"Being afraid to say a dudes name? You're right; I'm a big ball of confusion."
Neville stopped walking and looked over Xander's shoulder with a ten-thousand yard stare. There was a weariness to his slouched posture and sagged face that had no place on a sixteen year old.
"Listen," he said, "right now we go to school, we have a few laughs – it's great. But nobody talks about what's coming, nobody talks about how there's gonna be a full-on war sooner, rather than later. I mean a year from now I may be back at Hogwarts, I might be fighting, or I might be dead. My family are blood traitors Xander; you'd better believe they'll be coming after me and Gran first. You're lucky, you don't have to worry about those things: you can leave here and just go back to your life and not have to worry about getting yanked out of your bed, never to be heard from again."
Neville stopped talking, but kept staring at that spot only he could understand. His words were mellow and almost resigned, and spoken without malice. Xander, for his part, stood transfixed on the spot: it was like seeing a whole new person forming in front of him.
"So yeah," Neville continued, "if I can go off and fight a bunch of Death Eaters, I should be able to say HIS name. And I am getting better at it. But for right now, I just wish you wouldn't. Maybe because you don't really understand what it means, not like Harry or other people who say it."
Xander imagined how ridiculous he looked to people in the stores: two guys, seemingly having a moment on a nearly empty street when it was so cold his eyeballs were freezing. But for some reason he couldn't find it in himself to care.
"I live on top of a Hellmouth," he blurted out. He hadn't planned on saying the words, but once they were out he found he had no regrets.
Neville stared hard and stayed silent. When there was no immediate answer, Xander began to worry that their "sharing time" was possibly a one way street only.
Finally, Neville said, "What's a bloody Hellmouth?"
Xander laughed out loud, which quickly turned to a wince when his cracked lips flared up. "Doesn't anyone pay attention to History of Magic?"
The Neville who'd appeared moments ago, the version who'd seen too much of life too soon, was replaced by the Neville of usual boyish cheer. "Just Hermione."
Neville nodded toward the Three Broomsticks further up the road, and Xander fell in step. "You're telling me," Xander said. "She gave me the bad cop/bad cop routine when we had our first tutoring session."
"So you didn't answer my question: what's a Hellmouth?"
"The Hellmouth?" Xander said breezily, grabbing the front door to the bar and holding it open for Neville. "It just happens to be the epicenter of demonic energy on the planet, and attracts all sorts of dark creatures of pure evil, which makes Sunnydale, the town on top of it, and my 'home crap home,' probably the deadliest place on Earth."
"Oh," he added as Neville came to an abrupt stop at the threshold of the door. "It also does wonky things with wizards magic to the point that the Americans kinda treat people who go there like they're infected with cancerous cancer of the cancer, so that's why no school there would take me."
Neville blinked owlishly as he paced into the bar. "Oh come on. You're winding me up, right? Right?"
As they made their way to an empty table between some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, Xander debated on how much farther to go. He'd kept the secret of the Slayer because he feared putting her in some kind of danger. But this was Neville he was talking about, the same kid with a love of plant life and who still flushed when talking to a person with breasts.
To be safe, he should probably stick with the original plan, and keep his mouth firmly zipped. But even though he was in castle full of kids his age, he realized he was lonely. Keeping secrets created a wall between you and everyone else, no matter how much you tried to blend. He had these wonderful friends back home who did so many fantastic things, and he had to pretend like none of it existed. He wanted nothing more than to brag to Seamus that the girl he ogled in the picture earlier today had saved the world, and not in the metaphoric sense. Buffy deserved that kind of recognition, deserved to have it shouted from every corner, and he couldn't even tell his dorm mates. He was tired of it, tired of the burden. He needed to share with someone.
Besides, if you couldn't trust the guy who saved you from a runaway broom, who could you trust?
"If you think that's crazy, wait til you hear about this one-hundred pound superhero I know."
It had to be one of the more interesting lunches Xander had taken part in. Besides the occasional bite of food, Neville's jaw was firmly on the table during Xander's entire description of the previous year in slaying. The whole scene was that much funnier considering the guy who grew up with elves and unicorns had trouble believing in Xander's kind of supernatural. He had to assure Neville many times that yes, he was telling the truth.
He finally wrapped up by describing the Master's swan dive from the top of the library, making sure to use the spoon for his stew as a stand-in for the huge stake that pierced the Master's chest.
"So wait," Neville began as they left the Three Broomsticks a little while later, "they're 'together together?' Your friend Buffy and this vampire guy? As in a couple? But isn't that just, wrong?"
"Thank you!" Xander said. "Willow, Buffy, and Giles make me feel like I'm living in frickin' backwards land sometimes, where one plus one equals three, or Klingons are good guys."
The air on the outside was just as cold as earlier, but the sky was clear from the lack of snow fall. There was a fine sheen of ice and snow all around the village, and the entire sight hit Xander in a little part of his childhood that never got to experience this. He and Neville started walking back toward Hogwarts, the snow crunching under their feet.
"Once again Neville, you cannot tell ANYONE about this? Alright?" He looked over at the round faced boy, trying to make him understand the magnitude of the secret he'd imparted on him. If it did get out, it could not only make Xander's life at Hogwarts full of unpleasant staring and whispered innuendos, but it could legitimately lead to someone on the wrong side wanting to get to the Slayer through him.
But his fears were unfounded. Neville's chest puffed out, and he nodded vigorously with the kind of conviction someone portrays when they've been honored. "Don't worry, mate," he said, "I promise that your secret is safe."
They just managed to avoid smashing into a group of giggling third years running out of the candy store. "Thanks man. I trust you, I do, its just a matter of - crap"
Neville looked at Xander when he stopped talking. "What's the problem?" he asked.
Sadie Hayne (a name Xander would now never forget for all eternity) walked out of some little cafe with a small group of laughing girls, no more than half a block from where he and Neville stood. She looked much like she did during their ill-fated first meeting, with her genial air and ever present bright white smile. This time though her cheeks were flushed a rosy red, and her face was mostly obscured by her large frames and the huge blue hat on top of her head.
Xander dreaded what was about to happen next, and had gone out of his way to avoid having to talk to her ever since his huge epic failure. It was too bad; he'd really liked her during their short confab. Still though, not getting read the riot act in the middle of the street was his real goal now.
"You wouldn't happen to have one of those invisible capes on you, would you Nev?" Xander asked, but never takin his eyes off of Sadie and her friends.
"It's an invisibility cloak, and no, sorry. Why?" Neville followed Xander's line of sight. "Are you trying to hide from Shady Lane or something?"
Xander's head whipped toward Neville's so fast he was afraid it might fly right off. "Whhhhaaaattttt?"
"That Hufflepuff over there, her name's Shady Lane."
"How'd you hear about that?" Xander asked in a panic.
"I don't know." Neville's face definitely showed that he had no idea what was going on. "Some kid called her Shady Lane a few weeks ago, some people overheard it, and I guess it's kind of stuck. Apparently she gets mad every time someone calls her that, which obviously means that people do it twice as often. Hey, you okay?"
The entire time Neville was speaking, Xander was shaking his head faster and faster, until he let out a groan.
"Neville, if you ever see me talking to a girl again, feel free to shoot me, stuff me, and mount me."
Xander looked toward Sadie again, waiting for her to catch his eye and try and kill him with hate rays. Instead of spotting him though, she started rubbing the lenses of her glasses, finally letting out a huff of air, ripping the glasses off her face, and trying to scrub them with the edge of her coat.
Xander saw his chance. "I don't know why her glasses are all wet, but thank you science!" he muttered to himself. "Come on Nev, let's go this way."
Xander and Neville hurried along the street, both making sure to avoid looking at the group of Hufflepuffs while trying not to run into any other students. They walked past without incident, and Xander felt lighter on his feet.
That is until they made it two streets forward.
The sight of Theodore Nott and his cronies cackling as they exited the Hogs Head greeted Xander as they turned the corner. Even their laughing sounded hellbent and malicious. They stood a good thirty feet away, and were definitely pleased at something they had just done.
Ever since he'd started classes, Nott and his friends had gone out of their way to make Xander's life at Hogwarts as miserable as possible. Whether it be knocking his books out of his hands, pointing and laughing, or even calling him a "Yank" followed by some sort of British lingo that Xander had yet to figure out, but could imagine was not of the nice, Nott had not missed an opportunity to make the point that Xander was not wanted. With his greasy hair and beady eyes, Xander felt a twinge of unbridled nastiness every time he glimpsed the boy, or Snape for that matter.
That's why he was struck with the sudden impulse to grab a childhood's worth of memories in the next few seconds. A son of Southern California didn't get the chance to enjoy snow, and no matter how cold he was feeling, he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass.
With Neville looking on, Xander flashed a grin and slowly made his way to the edge of the building on the other side of the street. Its location gave the perfect cover for what he intended.
"Sorry Nev," Xander said as he bent down, "you might want to run now, in case there's any blow back. I've never done this before, so if I do it wrong, I apologize. But then again, I'm pretty good at aiming at stop signs, so this shouldn't be too different."
"What are you talking about?" Neville crouched beside him, whispering in a strangled voice. Xander didn't answer; instead he reached down and grabbed snow in both his hands. He may not have been an expert on packing snow, but he had a feeling that fate was on his side today. He smashed the snow together, his hands stinging in protest.
Neville caught on quick, a wicked gleam in his eye. Xander kept looking down at his hands and up at Nott, making sure his target wasn't getting too far away. But Nott was complying with Xander's silent request; he and his cronies hadn't moved very much from The Hogs Head.
Xander stood very slowly, afraid to spook his prey. The streets were moderately crowded with kids either heading back or going from shop to shop, so luckily Xander could blend in when it all went down. With a deep breath, and a prayer to whatever may be listening, he jumped into the street, cocked his arm back, and let fly the first snowball he'd ever thrown in his life.
He stood there, gazing as the snowball arced over the crowd, catching the rays of the sun trying to press through the sky. It seemed to hang in midair for a lifetime, making this whole experience stretch out for one agonizing moment to the next.
Then time seemed to speed up. His snow ball plummeted from the heavens, and with a 'pop!' collided with the back of Theodore Nott's head.
Xander's first reaction was to "whoop" in joy. But before he could, the cool head of Neville Longbottom had summoned the wherewithal to grab him by the shoulders, and smash both their bodies along the side of the building. Sure, it blocked Xander's line of sight, but once the all encompassing glee of making Nott look like a jackass left his body, he realized that thankfully, they were also out of the line of sight of the Slytherins.
"What the hell was that?"
He and Neville exchanged glances. That did not sound like the kind of person who was in on the same joke they were. With practiced movements, Xander slowly extended himself from beyond the wall to take a peek.
Nott was rubbing the back of his head, knocking off the remnants of Xander's success.
The rest of Nott's boys, including Jonathan Avery and Frank Meade, two fifth year Slytherins that hung around Nott like puppies, were doing their best to hold back their guffaws.
"Hey!" Nott screamed at his cronies, which immediately wiped the snickers and snide looks off their faces. "Did you see who it was?"
They shook their heads 'no', and quickly averted their eyes. The kids walking along the intersection, whether from the look on Nott's face, or some ingrown ability to avoid danger, gave a wide berth to the slowly angering Slytherin.
"One of you had to see something!" he bellowed, twisting to and fro to get a better look. Just before he shot his glance down the alleyway, Xander pressed himself against the wall once more. Now his heart beat a mile a minute. It was a stupid move to pull, but one that felt utterly necessary at the time. Besides, his first snowball actually hitting his school enemy? There's some serious poetic justice in that.
"Don't just stand there!" Nott screamed. "Do something and find whoever threw it!"
Xander and Neville glanced at each once more, but this time there was some serious reservations on both their faces. Xander leaned forward and looked out again, just in time to catch the Slytherins quickly scurrying about, trying to find who happened to throw that wad of ice against Nott. They were grabbing kids off the streets, scaring each and every one with their aggressive attitude.
"We should get out of here. Like right now," Xander whispered.
"That sounds like a great idea, except for the fact that the only way back to Hogwarts is through the main street!" Neville was breathing heavily and looking worse for wear. He didn't appear to be completely freaked out, but he was well on his way.
They were getting closer. Nott's men were making their way across to where Neville and Xander stood. Xander took a glance back the other side of the road, and grimaced when he saw a dead end. With lightning speed he ran through every excuse in the book, trying to think of the words that would get them out of this with all their limbs attached.
Luckily the sound of a crash indicated he needn't worry.
The commotion that followed the noise allowed Xander and Neville to get a better look. Students were laughing and pointing, and this time not at good ole' Teddy. There was a prone figure on the ground in front of The Hogs Head, very much doing a fantastic imitation of a chalk body outline. Hovering over him was the grizzled form of what could only be the barkeep. His mangy bones were encased in ragged robes, and his long, matted gray hair hung below his shoulders, outstretched only by his thick beard.
"And don't let me catch you back in here!" he screamed at the prone body. And with that, he pounded back into the bar, but not before slamming the door behind him. Xander and Neville watched in amazement as the dead body turned into Seamus, who rose to his feet, a grin from ear to ear stretching on his face.
"Come on," Neville said. He grabbed Xander's arm, and dragged him into the street. Xander was about to protest until he understood that Seamus' little show had drawn a crowd, which was the perfect cover to blend into. They both fought their way to the front, where a red faced Seamus was trying to walk back to Hogwarts.
"Told you you couldn't pull it off," Neville said once they made it alongside the walking Irishman.
Instead of glaring in anger, Seamus seemed to get that much more full of himself, which was no tall order to begin with. "What did I tell you earlier? Oh yee of little faith."
Very discreetly, he reached into his jacket and flashed the label of a bottle entitled 'Ogden's Fire Whiskey.' At Neville's amazed look, Seamus added, "When flattery doesn't work, it helps to have invisible fingers."
Seamus burst out into laughter and threw his arms around Xander and Neville. "Come on lads," he began, "if you're nice, and tell me how wonderful I am on this 'oh so chilly' walk back to the castle, I might let you sample from the finest!"