A/N
Thank you to those who have taken the time to leave a review. They are appreciated.
CallaRose4Ever – Slytherin is a tricky House to be in if you are an unknown. Buffy might have a little help but she will be tested.
Glowdust3 – Glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for commenting!
AintGotNone – LOL, poor hat, poor Slytherins and poor Tom.
Guest – yes, it is going to be interesting in Slytherin. There are a lot of agendas in there and Buffy is going to be an anomaly.
Guest – good guess about Buffy telling Lovell about her attempts to blackmail the hat. More Tom povs in future. Malfoy's brains have gone south. Blame it on teenage hormones.
Guest – sorry you lost sleep! But I am glad you liked the story and appreciate it. The first chapter I need to amend and upload. It was supposed to be confusing but I guess it is TOO confusing.
The Slytherins were clapping and cheering for her.
Buffy headed towards the green banner that bore the emblem of a hissing snake. The faces of the Slytherin students looked over at her. Each one wearing a tie of emerald and silver stripes. Remembering the way the ties of the other students had changed after their sorting,Buffy flipped hers out and examined it. The plain black tie had been transfigured to bear the colours of Slytherin House.
She still felt a niggle of annoyance that the Sorting Hat hadn't given her Ravenclaw blue, but she'd had worse days. Of course, the day was not over yet, and she shouldn't be tempting Murphy. So far, she'd almost been killed by a psychotic luggage cart, almost drowned on a pleasure boat cruise and had to fight off a shoal of water demons who'd wanted to eat her. However, she wasn't buried alive, dead, or had become a Gryffindor, so there was a lot to be thankful about. On the scale of things, being sorted into Slytherin was no big deal.
"What year are you in?" one of the Slytherin girls asked as she walked along the table looking for somewhere to sit.
"Fifth."
"Oh, we're third years." She smiled and pointed up the table. "You're further along. Keep going,"
With a nod of thanks, Buffy continued walking along the line of students scanning the faces trying to find the fifth years. There was no hard line to differentiate between the years and the sea of faces all dressed identically made it confusing. Where were they? She needed to look for Tom; he was a fifth year. Buffy searched the students ahead of her. She stilled. Despite the wizard's hat and the uniform black robe, Buffy recognised the set of Tom's shoulders as he leaned across the table to speak to one of his housemates.
A girl! He was talking to a girl.
A pretty girl with an upturned nose and bobbed hair. Buffy took in the way the girl's hand grasped at Tom's possessively, she heard the laugh of condescension and saw the cold glance she slanted her way. As Buffy watched, the girl put her hand to her mouth and, shielding her words from view whispered to the boy across the table.
"From the state of her, she looks like a war refugee." Buffy's Slayer hearing picked up the girl's insult.
Buffy prided herself on her appearance. Although in school there was no way of displaying her fashion sense, the uniform she wore fitted her well and was clean and tidy. Okay, she knew her hair wasn't looking its best. When Dumbledore had dried her off, he hadn't given much thought to hairstyling and it had gone a bit... poofy. But she did NOT look like a refugee!
Magic trickled along Buffy's skin and the Slayer awoke. It took in the girl's soft appearance, weighing and measuring her potential as an adversary. The Slayer might have classified the girl as not evil, but her magic hummed and spiralled inside her, demanding revenge. For the first time since she'd awoken under the rubble, Buffy knew the strength of her magic and felt the dark urge to hex someone. She blinked, forcing the power away.
The girl wasn't evil. She couldn't go around hexing people because they were stupid or annoying.
As she let her magic settle, Buffy focussed on the other students. The boy sitting beside Tom had helped her with the luggage cart on platform 9 and 3/4s. She'd recognise his white-blonde hair anywhere, even if right now his face was turned from her as he called to Marcus Lestrange and Alphard Black. Buffy caught the words 'World cup' and 'beat them next season.'
The rest of the fifth years regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. There was plenty of space for her to sit by the girls, but the idea of watching Tom flirt with a girl who'd insulted her created a sour taste in her mouth.
And Tom? Tom didn't look at her at all. It was as if she was invisible. Why? Why was he being like that? They'd grown so close over the summer and she'd looked forward to surprising him. Now it was obvious he wanted to cut their friendship. Her face turned stony.
She'd find somewhere else to sit. With that in mind, she tapped the boy near her on the shoulder and pasted on a fake smile. "Are you a fifth year? I was told to sit with the fifth years."
Startled, the boy looked up, oily black hair parted in the centre, a smattering of spots across his chin, and the long nose of a patrician. From further up the table came the sound of Tom's laughter, followed by that of his friends. Were they laughing at her? What was he saying about her?
The boy she'd spoken to watched the new girl's smile fade and thought it was because of him.
"I am a fifth year," he answered dully. "You are in the correct section." He turned back to the table, expecting her to move on.
"Can I sit here?" Buffy pointed to the empty spot next to him.
He looked at the bench as if he'd never seen it before.
"You want to sit here?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "There are empty spaces further along." He nodded to where Una Crabbe, Fiona Goyle, and Penelope Parkinson sat. "The girl's will shuffle along. Ask them."
"I don't want to," Buffy replied stonily. She refused to look up the table to where Tom sat. "Is there a problem with me sitting here?"
"No, not if you wish to," he replied tiredly.
Buffy slid gracefully down next to him, and a place setting appeared on the table in front of her.
The boy slanted her a glance. Seemingly unable to comprehend why she'd chose to sit next to him rather than joining the main group.
"I'm Buffy." She held out her hand. "Buffy Summers, although they've been calling me Lovegood-Summers since I got here. Guess it's because Mom was a Lovegood."
"I'm Cornelius Travers. I prefer to be called Travers."
He took her hand, and Buffy registered a cool grip, a fast heart rate, and a flash of magic.
Buffy frowned. "Travers. That name is kind of familiar."
A ring of disapproving faces, stern and forbidding. She was angry, yet the anger was cold and calculated, and she spoke with confidence. "Power. It's all about power. I have it and you -."
The memory flash vanished as the table behind them broke into applause. Someone had been sorted into Ravenclaw.
"I've no idea why," Travers said. "It isn't a Wizarding name. I'm... Muggleborn." He waited, expecting her to stand up and move elsewhere.
"Cool," Buffy replied, "I didn't know I was a witch until last month." She rolled her sleeve up and scratched at one of the Grindylow bites. The edges of the bite were red and swollen and pus was already gathering. Since none of the other bites or scratches bothered her, Buffy guessed this was infected. Which reminded her, Walburga would appear soon to escort her to the infirmary. If she was going to owl her Mom tonight, she had to give the girl the slip.
The boy gave the bite on her arm a dubious look, then opened a book on his lap and began to read. Buffy craned her neck. The pages were filled with cramped handwriting and, what looked like, dates. A diary? Travers flicked her a dark look and covered the page with his hand. Buffy turned away, to watch the final Sortings.
After a boy called Zabini was placed into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall took the hat away, and the elderly Headmaster rose to his feet and shuffled across to the podium. After casting a Sonorus onto himself to amplify his voice, Armando Dippet greeted all the new students. He then launched into an over-long speech about the privilege of education and how every student was a future ambassador for the school.
"Now I'd like to move on to school rules. All students are reminded that the forest in the castle grounds is out of bounds unless they are accompanied by a teacher." He smiled behind his beard. "It isn't called the Forbidden Forest for nothing, ho, ho, ho."
The teachers sitting behind him smiled politely, but the students remained silent.
The lack of response didn't deter him. He went on, "There's also been a, as yet unsubstantiated, sighting of a Dementor on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Although quite possibly this is a case of mistaken identity," he chuckled softly, "as it was spotted by three wizards in the early hours of Sunday morning after a rather long night in the Hogs Head. Ho, ho, ho."
The teachers behind him all laughed, and the students tittered.
"Probably saw a cloak blown off someone's washing line," Tom said. |His friends laughed and so did his girlfriend. Buffy thought she laughed like a dying donkey.
"Nevertheless," continued Dippet, "the Ministry is taking this sighting seriously. Students are advised to stay in pairs or groups when off school grounds until the Dementor has been investigated."
Buffy leaned over to Travers. "What's a Demen-tor?" she asked. "Is it a kind of... demon?"
Travers, who'd been slumped in his seat reading his book, jerked upright. "What?!"
"Shh," Buffy whispered. She nodded over to the headmaster who was still talking. She leaned forward. "What's a Dementor? I've never heard of them."
"Then I suggest you actually open one of your DADA textbooks and read about them," he snapped, lip curling in disdain.
She rolled her eyes. "Jeez, thanks for that Mr Helpful."
Travers closed the book and turned his back to her.
Buffy looked past the doddery headmaster to where Dumbledore sat. During their lessons, Dumbledore had focussed mainly on Charms, Transfigurations, and Potions and everything else sparingly. Buffy realised that she'd need to learn about the Wizarding World's demonic and dark creatures fast. That meant extra-curricular research on top of her homework. Suddenly, Buffy felt overwhelmed. She was back to being one girl in all the world, juggling a social life, her education and slaying - and this time without a Watcher.
The headmaster rambled on, reciting more rules and curfew times for students. Buffy spent most of the time examining the ceiling, looking for the not-a-ghost she'd spotted earlier and wondered what else she'd find if she wore the spectrespecs.
The eruption of applause made Buffy realise Dippet had finished his speech. She joined in, only stopping clapping when her Slaydar registered a strong blast of magic moving like a wave across the room. It vanished as fast as it arrived, leaving behind tables filled with food. Large serving plates containing roast beef, succulent lamb chops, tender steaks, roasted chickens, potatoes, and dishes of vegetables and fries covered the tables. Steam rose from the dishes and the hall was filled with delicious aromas. Buffy's stomach growled. It had been a long time since those pasties on the Hogwarts Express.
Next to her, Travers was already piling food onto his plate. He gave her a sidelong look as he picked up the gravy boat.
"You can eat," he drawled. "Our Housemates won't poison us at the Sorting Feast. It's considered to be bad form."
"What?" she asked in surprise. "Is that your idea of a joke?"
The boy didn't answer. Instead, he began forking food into his mouth at high speed, barely chewing before swallowing and shovelling in more. Buffy ducked her head, furtively looking over at the rest of the fifth years. They all had their plates piled high. It seemed the long train journey to the Highlands had made everyone starving. Her stomach growled again, and Buffy began piling her plate high with lamb chops, steaks, chicken, and fries. She'd finished just her second plate full and was wondering if anyone would notice if she took extras when the food disappeared.
"Whoa! What happened to the food?"
Without taking his eyes off the table, Travers muttered, "Dessert is arriving."
A moment later, cakes and puddings of all descriptions filled the table, and the students laughed and dug in once more.
Buffy helped herself to a large portion of apple pie and cream and was half-way through when she heard someone say her name.
She twisted around, to see her cousin sidling along the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tales at a half-crouch in the hope it would make him look less conspicuous. He'd attracted the attention of several Slytherins and Ravenclaws and from his reddened cheeks, Buffy could see how uncomfortable he was. There had to be a good reason for Lovell to come over like this.
As soon as he was within range, she grabbed his hand and yanked him down onto the bench next to her.
"I can't sit here!" he whispered, aghast at what she'd done. "This is the Slytherin table."
"Yeah, you can. I'm a Slytherin and I've invited you." As she spoke a place setting materialised in front of him. "See the table doesn't mind you being here."
He was too ill-at-ease to eat, so she poured him a glass of pumpkin juice and handed it to him. When he reluctantly took it, she whispered, "I'm sorry I didn't get into Ravenclaw. I threatened the hat, but it wouldn't change its mind."
His eyes went round. "Merlin's beard! You threatened the Sorting Hat?"
Buffy shushed him. "I tried gentle persuasion, but that wasn't working."
Lovell shook his head in disbelief. "No wonder you were placed in Slytherin." He took a sip from the goblet. "Buffy, one of the first years says he was in the boat with you and you jumped into the lake to rescue Rigel Black. Is it true?"
Buffy picked up her spoon and prodded the remains of the apple pie. "Yeah, it's true. He was fooling around in the boat and fell into the water. The water demons had grabbed him and I had to dive in and fight them off."
Behind her, Travers was listening. Buffy could feel his eyes burning holes into the back of her neck. He wasn't the only student who'd heard about her adventures and developed a sudden interest. All around the room students were whispering and looking over.
"If it's true, why wasn't she sorted intox Gryffindor?" someone asked on the Ravenclaw table. Buffy heard the same thing being said from further down the Slytherin table. She purposely faded out her Slayer hearing and focussed on Lovell.
"Water demons?" Lovell asked. "Oh, you mean the Grindylows. Why aren't you in the hospital? Their bites can turn nasty."
"Dumbledore and Kettleburn tried. I used the Buffy charm offensive on them." She licked the cream from the spoon. "Nothing stands in the way of a Lovegood-Summers, be they water demons, Gandalf, or over-enthusiastic medical staff."
"They told you to go in later, didn't they?' Lovell said shrewdly. "They're allowing you to meet your fellow Housemates first before sending you to see Madam Bones."
Buffy's face fell. "Yeah, that about sums it up." She dropped the spoon back into the bowl. The apple pie looked less appealing now she'd been reminded a nurse was waiting for her. She pushed the bowl away and sighed. "Not only do I need to see the nurse,but Mom's letter drowned in the lake." She took what had been a carefully quilled letter from out of her pocket. "See? Total mush."
Pulling out his wand, Lovell pointed it at the remains of the letter. With a flick of the wand, he said, "Papyrus Reparo."
The lump of paper rose into the air, unfurling and smoothing, the smudged ink reforming into letters until it was whole and legible again.
Buffy beamed delightedly. "Yay! Lovell to the rescue."
He smiled at her bashfully. "Honestly, you could have done the same, Buffy. You need to apply the spells you've learned practically. You're a witch now, not a Muggle."
Buffy's face darkened.
"What's wrong?"
She leaned forward, whispering in his ear, "The Hat knows I'm a Slayer."
"What?" Lovell's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, it saw your memories?"
Buffy bit her bottom lip. There was something else it had said. "There's more." Keeping her voice down, she went on, "It told me that I have two sets of memories. I want to know why. Where do they keep the Sorting Hat?"
"In the Headmaster's office on a shelf. I saw it once when I took him a message."
"Can I break in and steal it?"
It said a lot about Lovell that he didn't flinch at her plan. "You've no chance. The place is heavily warded and guarded." He took a sip from his goblet, his face thoughtful.
Buffy watched, knowing that he was turning an idea over in his mind and not to rush him. Behind her, Travers scraped the last of the dessert from his dish and further down the table students murmured her name along with Black's.
Lovell began, "Professor Slughorn is your Head of House. Seek him out tomorrow and ask him if you can speak to the Sorting Hat again. Lay it on thick, tell him..." He paused and looked behind him as if he'd just heard someone speak his name.
Buffy followed his gaze. Tom and several other Slytherin boys were watching them, their expressions sharp and distrustful. For the first time, Tom's dark eyes met hers and Buffy defiantly raised her goblet - as if toasting him. He held her gaze for a long moment, then gave her the tiniest of nods. He turned away, spoke to his friends, and the spotlight was off them.
"Tell Slughorn," continued Lovell, "that the Hat saw memories that you had no knowledge of and you'd like to speak to it and explore them further." From beneath the tangle of blonde hair, he smiled deviously. "Who knows, it might provide valuable information about Von Kendrick and help the Aurors with their investigation."
"Good idea. I'll try that." Buffy rolled up her sleeve and scratched at the Grindylow bite once more.
Lovell eyed the inflamed wound and the bruises covering her arm. "You need to see the nurse! Let me take you there." He half-stood, and Buffy pulled him back down.
"I'm fine. Anyway, Walburga Black is going to escort me to the nurse after the feast. Dumbledore says the Blacks owe me a debt of gratitude and it gives her a chance to thank me."
Lovell continued frowning at the demon bite, so Buffy pulled her sleeve down and resolved not to scratch at it again until he'd gone.
"They owe you more than thanks," Lovell lowered his voice. "You saved Rigel's life. That's a Life Debt. Likely Walburga owes you one as well since you saved her from vampires."
"I'd have done the same for anyone," Buffy replied, brushing it off. "It's no big."
"Yes, it is!" Lovell whispered earnestly. "Saving the life of another witch or wizard creates a magical bond between them. It's very old and deep magic, probably more powerful than blood magic. They need to repay that debt somehow, even if they don't want to. And, since Rigel is a child, likely his debt is shared by his parents."
"Shh," hissed Buffy and put a hand on Lovell's arm. She motioned with her head. Walburga had risen from her seat and was heading towards them.
Lovell swivelled around, panic in his eyes. "I don't like her." He almost fell over the bench in his haste to get away. "See you tomorrow."
"Wait! What about finding the owlery?" But her cousin didn't hear her - he was already at the bottom of the table.
Buffy turned back to face the imposing figure of Walburga Black, bearing down on her like a battleship going to war.
And before you switch off...
please leave a review if you enjoyed it!