A/N;
thanks to all who took the time to comment last chapter. If you are enjoying the story don't forget to do so. Feedback is appreciated
After eating breakfast, Buffy left the others to head back to her dorm. Despite there being no one in the Common room, Buffy still locked the bedroom door and reapplied the Silencing charm in case anyone snuck in whilst she had her trunk open.
After calling Spikey's name, she took out the books she needed for the morning classes – Potions, History of Magic, and Charms. As she laid them out on her bed, the gas mask box rocked from side to side inside the trunk. Then, with a loud pop, Spikey burst from the box like a cork from a champagne bottle. He flew excitedly around the room, swooping down at Buffy as she packed her book bag and added the different coloured inks and quills on top.
"I've lessons," Buffy said, putting the books she didn't need back into her trunk. "I'll be back at lunch for more books and to make sure you're okay. I want you to stay quiet in case my roommates come back."
Pushing her spectrespecs into her pocket, she pointed at the gas mask box. "You need to go back, Spikey."
The boggart backed away, shaking his head.
"If it was just my room I'd leave you out." Giving Spikey free roam of her room was what she'd done at her uncle's house. "But I can't do that any more. Please go back into the box."
Spikey zoomed up the ceiling and stared down at her.
"I don't have time for this, Spikey!" She jabbed a finger in the direction of the box. "Please, you need to go back into the trunk. I'm gonna be late for class."
Spikey dropped down to eye level. Gazing at her with big, round, sad eyes he nudged her shoulder.
Buffy sighed. She was a sucker when her boggart looked sad. "What do you want to do?"
The boggart nudged her arm and then her book bag.
"You wanna come to classes with me?"
The boggart nodded.
"You know you can't come out."
Spikey nodded and pushed her arm again.
Buffy considered her options. "You can go into the gas mask box," she wagged a finger at the boggart. "AND do not make a noise. That's NO butting at it and definitely no scratching noises. Remember what happened when we went on the bus and you started scratching?"
Spikey pasted on his 'what-did-I-do?' expression.
"This is important. If anyone finds out I've smuggled a boggart into school, it's expelling for me and banishment for you." Buffy placed Spikey's box onto the bed as she spoke. "Uncle Peregrine's says the Ministry has a special department for mysteries. He told me there are rooms in there full of weird stuff. Do you want to end up down there as exhibit A, trapped inside a storage jar? Because if anyone finds out about you, that's where you'll be headed."
The threat of jar incarceration did the trick. A more subdued Spikey obediently flew back to his gas mask box.
Professor Slughorn's Potions classroom was in the dungeons. Buffy was relieved to find she wasn't as late as she'd thought as the lesson hadn't yet started. She stood in the doorway, looking around for someone she might know and felt disappointed that there were no seats free nearby.
Professor Slughorn noticed her. Looking up from adjusting his sliding scales, he said, "There are plenty of seats towards the front." He beckoned to her encouragingly. "Yes, down here. Come along. Don't be shy. I'm sure Travers will welcome you as a partner."
The entire class of Slytherin and Hufflepuffs stared at her. Marcus Lestrange, seated alongside Lucretia and Alphard Black, gave her an apologetic smile. She passed two tables of Hufflepuffs, and she passed Abraxus Malfoy who was sat with Victor Avery and Tom Riddle.
Already feeling awkward at the way everyone was staring, her heart sank when she realised that the table Slughorn had directed her to was directly in front of Tom's. She stopped at the table and waited. Travers sullenly dragged his bag from the chair next to him and pushed it towards her. Aware of Tom's eyes on her, Buffy silently dropped into the empty seat and began pulling inks, quills, and notebooks from her bag. Then placed her gas mask onto the desk.
Travers stared first at the brown cardboard box and then at Buffy incredulously.
Professor Slughorn had also noticed the gas mask box. "What's that?" he asked, leaving the scales to come over.
"It's my gas mask, sir," said Buffy, shuffling her chair closer to the desk and making a show of organising her books and quills in a bid to divert attention from the box. "It's Ministry of Defence issue. They told me to keep it with me at all times."
"Is she expecting a Muggle attack on Hogwarts, Professor?" drawled a sarcastic voice from behind her.
Around the room students from Wizarding families tittered at the joke. The few Muggleborns looked at one another uneasily.
Buffy swung around to glare at the boy who'd spoken.
Abraxus Malfoy raised a haughty eyebrow in response. "You should have left your Muggle mask at home, love."
"Has there ever been a gas attack on Hogwarts?" Buffy asked.
"There's a Muggle Repelling charm on the castle," Malfoy drawled. "Even if they knew it existed, Hogwarts is unplottable."
Buffy raised her chin. "Yeah? Ever heard of blanket bombing?"
Malfoy and Avery stared at her blankly. Tom didn't look at her at all. He pretended to be engrossed in searching for the correct page in his book.
Buffy continued, "You don't know what blanket bombing is? Then how do you know you're safe from a gas attack?"
Malfoy opened his mouth but was beaten to answering by Professor Slughorn.
"My dear girl, I assure you, there is no need to carry a gas mask in Hogwarts," Slughorn smiled patronisingly, his stomach bouncing as he spoke. "Why, if there was a gas attack, all we'd do is cast the Bubble Head charm. The very same spell you did before you dived into the lake, saved Rigel Black, and fought off the Grindylows."
Buffy eyed the professor. "Er, I didn't do that one."
"No?" Slughorn looked thoughtful. "Oh, I know. You transfigured your respiratory system into that of a fish or did you have some Gillyweed on you and grow a set of gills that way?"
"Um, I forgot." Buffy shrugged a shoulder. "In the heat of the moment, I, sorta, held my breath."
The confession confused the plump professor even more. "Are you saying that you were able to dive to the bottom of the lake and fight off a pack of water demons, without drawing a single breath?"
Travers inhaled sharply.
"Honestly, it's no big," said Buffy, trying to making light of it. "I'm a good swimmer and they were only low level demons."
"Really? Hmm." Slughorn didn't sound convinced by her explanation. Holding his robe lapels, he rocked on the balls of his feet, and said, "That's as may be. However, there's no need to carry the gas mask around with you at Hogwarts. Please, leave it in your trunk in future."
No one noticed the gas mask box twitching on the table except Buffy. "Yes, sir," she said, picking up the box before it jerked itself off the table. "I'll do that." She stowed the boggart's box in her bag and placed it on the floor, between her feet.
Happy now the Muggle box was out of sight, Slughorn marched back to the front of the class and began the lesson. He started with new advances and discoveries and had just gotten to Fleamont Potter's newest invention – the Sleekeazy Hair and Scalp Treatment - when the door of the classroom opened. A broad-faced girl with sandy coloured hair and a ruddy complexion appeared.
"You're tardy, Miss Moody," replied Professor Slughorn grimly. "I expect better punctuality from a fifth-year prefect. I will need to take points."
Miss Moody flushed. "I'm sorry, Sir. A first-year had her foot stuck in the vanishing step, I had to take her to the nurse." She took a slip of paper from out of her pocket and walked to the front of the class. "Madam Bones gave me a late-slip."
She handed the late-slip to the potions master and spotting the seat next to Buffy, dropped down beside her.
"Hello, you must be Buffy," she whispered as she unpacked her bag. "I'm Rosalind Moody. Call me Roz. My brother said I might meet you. I thought you'd be sorted into Gryffindor like Alastor was. I'm not a Gryffindor, I'm a Hufflepuff. I bet you guessed that when you saw my tie. Alastor said you were sharp, he told me he interviewed you after – ."
"Stop talking, Miss Moody!"
"Sorry, Professor Slughorn!" Roz gave Buffy a sidelong grin and winked. Not at all chastened.
Professor Slughorn tutted, and turned to the blackboard. "We have a lot to cover this year. Not only will you be revising everything that you've learned so far for your OWLs, but we'll be adding far more complicated potions." He waved his wand at the board and a list of this years potions appeared. "As you can see the Draught of Peace is a particularly difficult potion to make and we also have the Wit Sharpening potion which..." The professor looked behind him. "Why aren't you taking notes?"
There was a flurry of activity as notebooks were opened, quills were loaded with ink, and note taking began.
At his desk behind Buffy, Tom found that his eyes continually slid over to the blonde. As Slughorn dictated, the girl became steadily more and more frustrated as she tried to keep up. Finally, she'd had enough, with a huff of disgust she threw down the quill.
Continuing to take notes, Tom watched her dig into her bag - probably looking for a pencil. He sniggered, he'd done the same until he'd perfected his quill writing technique. Students from Muggle families always found it easier to take class notes with pencils and only used a quill on work handed in to their teachers.
Buffy had progressed to emptying all her books onto the desk as she kept searching for the elusive pencil. Next to her, Travers sighed heavily and handed her a pencil. Buffy flashed Travers a golden smile of thanks. Unaware that he'd just broken his quill,Tom watched Buffy lean against Travers and begin copying down the notes he'd taken. Dark bitter anger burned his gut like acid and he let out a low hiss in parseltongue that had his friends warily eyeing him.
As soon as Slughorn turned his back on them, Tom whispered to Malfoy, "Has anyone told Summers that Travers is a persona non grata?"
Malfoy stared blankly at Travers and Buffy.
"Don't you think it's wrong that a Slytherin girl has to find it out the hard way?" Tom waited patiently. The Malfoy heir would soon take the hint.
"You're right," Malfoy said.
Inwardly, Tom smiled. He was always right, but he refrained from saying so.
"She shouldn't be sat with him." Malfoy carefully tore a page from the back of his notebook and began to write. "Walburga mustn't have told her. I'll warn her."
He transfigured his note into a paper butterfly and sent it off towards Buffy. The butterfly rose fluttered across the gap between the tables and landed directly in front of the blonde girl. Rosalind Moody glanced behind her at Malfoy then back to Buffy. Buffy made no move to open it. She'd drawn back, watching the transfigured butterfly beat its wings in fascination.
"Is she... scared of it?" Malfoy asked Tom. "Girls normally like my butterfly notes. They coo over them and say how beautiful they are."
"You aren't losing your touch, Malfoy. She's been brought up Muggle," sneered Avery. "I watched her struggling to write with a quill. It's always a big giveaway."
Avery had forgotten Tom's Muggle upbringing. Normally, this wouldn't bother Tom since he worked hard to make people forget his Muggle past. This time though, he had to fight the urge to hex Avery's mouth permanently closed.
At the table in front of them, Rosalind Moody nudged Buffy's arm and whispered, "The butterfly is a note. Undo it before Sluggy spots it."
Avery, unaware that his mouth was in danger of being hexed permanently shut, carried on, "Her mother is the Lovegood's Squib. Merlin only knows who her father is. Rumour is a pure-blood knocked the Squib up and made a sharp exit when she told him. Who'd want to be burdened with a non-magical reject and her spawn?"
Tom cast a seething look at Avery, but the boy didn't notice. Buffy had looked over her shoulder and fixed a death glare on Avery. Tom, who was sat in the middle of Avery and Malfoy, instinctively ducked his head and pretended to read his notes.
When he risked looking back up, Tom saw that Buffy had placed the butterfly note onto her nap. Gingerly, she began to unfold it. As her eyes scanned Malfoy's letter, Tom turned to watch Travers. The boy leaned in and read the contents.
A FRIENDLY WARNING. THE BOY YOU ARE SAT WITH IS A MUDBLOOD.
Travers recoiled. He huddled down in his chair, trying to look invisible. On Buffy's other side, Rosalind Moody scowled and shook her head in disgust. While Buffy...
Tom didn't see Buffy's reaction. Professor Slughorn chose that moment to begin a set of rapid-fire questions on the ingredients of the Wit-Sharpening potion. Since Slughorn's attention was now fully on the class, nothing else was said about Malfoy's note. It was only when the Potions professor turned to his potion shelves that Malfoy received a reply. A screwed-up ball of paper hit the blonde boy square on the nose.
All three Slytherins started and stared up in surprise. Buffy stuck out her tongue, Travers refused to look around, and Rosalind Moody cast a quick look over her shoulder and laughed at the astounded expression on the three Slytherin boy's faces.
Abraxus Malfoy touched the tip of his forefinger to the end of his reddening nose. "That stung. If she wasn't a girl and a Slytherin, I'd hex her into next week for doing that."
"Ask her if she is going to heed the warning. Ask her if she isn't bothered by the company she keeps," Tom whispered from the side of his mouth. He didn't care about Malfoy's sore nose, he wanted to know if Buffy would heed the warning.
Slughorn heard the whispering and looked over. Immediately, Tom assumed the facade of the eager young student, busily making neat notes in the margin of his text book.
"She'd better not throw anything at me again," Malfoy whined once Sluggy was distracted by another pupil. He obediently wrote out another note. This time, he transfigured it into a large grasshopper and, as soon as Slughorn turned his back, sent it hopping to Buffy.
AREN'T YOU BOTHERED ABOUT THE GREASY GIT'S BLOOD STATUS?
Malfoy leaned back in his seat, smiling the lordly smile of a boy secure in the knowledge of generations of magical ancestors behind him.
Buffy grabbed her quill. Loading it with ink, she dashed off a quick answer and then threw it at Malfoy so hard and fast that he wasn't able to avoid it. It struck him between the eyes, bounced off his head and landed on the floor. Since Malfoy had become paralysed with shock, Tom had to retrieve the note before Slughorn spotted it. When he'd reseated himself, it was to find Malfoy muttering darkly about the barbaric nature of Colonial witches and wiping ink from his forehead.
Tom unfolded the note and the three of them read it.
I'D RATHER BE SAT WITH THE SMARTEST BOY IN CLASS THAN AN INBRED MUTANT.
._.– cross-eyed mutant face.
"She's called me an inbred mutant." Malfoy looked from Tom to Avery, in disbelief. He'd been insulted before but rarely by a girl and this was the first time he'd been called a mutant.
Victor Avery snorted a laugh. "The artwork is a nice touch."
Tom didn't care about the insult. His gut was roiling with venom. Buffy thought Travers was cleverer than him.
"The artwork is not a nice touch!" Malfoy hissed indignantly. He scribbled at high speed. This time there were no more conjured butterflies or grasshoppers. The paper was balled up and thrown with force at the back of Buffy's head. Somehow, she sensed it. She spun, grabbed it from mid-air, and placed it onto her lap.
They all watched, including Moody and Travers as she unfolded the note and read the two words.
SQUIB BRAT!
Despite Malfoy expecting it, Buffy's reply came so fast that he wasn't able to avoid the missile. The ball of paper smacked him in the mouth. Tom had to admit, if only to himself, that Buffy had a fantastic aim.
Malfoy unfolded the now tatty piece of parchment. "What the...?"
Tom read the word and shrugged. Avery did exactly the same when Malfoy showed it to him.
JOCK!
Malfoy wrote a short reply and sent the paper back to Buffy. They all watched as she smoothed it out and read,
I'M ENGLISH! NOT SCOTTISH!
Buffy gave Malfoy a puzzled look, Rosalind Moody chuckled while Travers flicked a glance at the note, frowned and went back to working on his notes.
The Potions lesson wore on. No more letters were passed, but now the small blonde had the attention of all three Slytherins behind her. They watched her, ducking under the table to fuss over her gas mask box or putting on a pair of oversized spectacles with different coloured lenses. With her eyes magnified, and looking like a deranged owl, she spent several minutes staring up at something on the ceiling. There was nothing there. Tom knew because he checked, and he'd made Malfoy and Avery check as well.
"That one's mental," Malfoy announced when the bell rang for the end of the lesson and they made their way from the room. Buffy had hung back to talk to Professor Slughorn, she still clutched at her box as if a gas attack was imminent. "I've heard before that the Lovegoods have trouble dealing with reality. I'd say this one is beyond anyone's help."