A/N;

Thanks to LabsByEerie, nerdalertwarning, Aintgotnone, CallaRose4ever, Dai5ycake, RaSulli and guests for taking the time to leave me a comment on the last chapter.

A couple of readers mentioned to me they'd like to know what the teachers are thinking about Buffy, Musey liked the idea so here it is. I think there is a massive clue to her Dad in this one. See if you got it right or not...?

Next chapter, Buffy has her first DADA lesson and conjures something different... guess what it is?

…...

Chapter 42 - A Teacher's Briefing

"Albus!"

Hearing the Potions master calling him, Dumbledore waited by the door that led into the Great Hall. Since it was lunchtime, Dumbledore presumed Slughorn wanted to sit beside him and discuss the misdeeds of a Gryffindor. It was only the first day, he hoped he hadn't gotten a trouble maker amongst his students.

Horace was already out of breath as he came up to him. "I've been trying to catch up to you for a while. You're such a quick walker," he complained.

Although he didn't add 'for one who's gained a few pounds over the last few years', Dumbledore heard the words all the same. It was true, he thought glancing down at himself, ruefully. These last few years, he'd spent far too much money in Honeydukes. These days there was always a bag of sweets in his pocket or tucked away in a hidden corner of his office. A wizard at war with his ex-friend and lover needed something a little sweet to look forward to during the day.

Horace opened the door and they walked out to the teachers' table. They took their seats, both gazing over at their respective tables on reflex. Lunch unlike dinner was informal and many students chose to visit the library first after class or take a break with friends before sitting down to eat. The student tables were still sparely occupied.

"What is it you'd like to speak to me about?" Dumbledore asked. He noted the Headmaster's chair was empty. Dippet was either still holed up in his office talking to the Ministry representative about the Hogsmeade Dementor or else he'd gone for lunch at The Three Broomsticks.

Horace shifted his bulk in his chair. "Buffy Summers."

Dumbledore's heart skipped, but he placidly asked, "Oh? What about her?"

"Is she..." Slughorn hesitated, searching for the best and most polite way to phrase his question. He knew Dumbledore and Joyce Lovegood had been close at one point, and he'd even volunteered to become her daughter's private tutor during the summer holidays. He cleared his throat. "Well.. what I have to ask is.. is the girl... sane?"

"Define sanity," Dumbledore remarked amiably. He shot a quick look down the Hall to where Buffy and her cousin had entered through the double doors. They walked down the aisle between Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, only parting to take seats at their respective tables. Even then, they sat level with each other, back to back, so they could lean over and speak to each other as they ate. Peregrine Lovegood had told them the pair had become close, it appeared that being sorted into different Houses hadn't created a rift between them.

Dumbledore went on, "We all have our quirks, Horace. I spent a great deal of time with Buffy Summers and her family during the summer, and I'd say she's far from insane." He reached out, lifting the decanter and filling his goblet with wine. He'd always enjoyed a glass at lunchtime, he believed it aided the digestion.

Slughorn began to fill up his plate. "Have you ever heard of Wrackspurts?"

"Hmm," Dumbledore replied. "I can't say that I have."

"No doubt you will," was Slughorn's pithy reply. "Miss Summers claimed that a swarm of Wrackspurts invaded my classroom and then burrowed their way into the students heads rendering them unable to answer the simplest of questions."

"Hers included?"

"No, she claimed to have dodged it."

"How very wise of her," replied Dumbledore, helping himself to succulent slices of chicken breast, roast potatoes, peas, and then topped the dish with a cream sauce.

"She wants to talk to the Sorting Hat. Told me that she'd like to question it about the memories hidden inside her head. I've mentioned it to Dippet already. He said he's busy, and will leave the decision to you since you know her better than any of us."

"I suppose, that is true," mused Dumbledore. He watched Buffy lean across the table, listen closely to something Uma Crabbe told her, and laugh. "I don't see a problem with Miss Summers speaking to the hat. In fact... I think it's rather a good idea."

"Armando said that if you agreed to it, would you supervise it?" Slughorn gave Dumbledore a meaningful look as he added. "The Headmaster is dining tonight with the Blacks. That's one dinner I'm glad not invited to attend."

"Thanks to Miss Summers' timely rescue, he won't be discussing their son's funeral." Dumbledore pushed a slice of chicken around his plate with his fork. Buffy now had one of the most powerful British wizarding families in her debt. It troubled him. Rumours had reached his ears that the Black family secretly supported Grindelwald, although they were too wily to make an outward stand against the Ministry, they could yet show their true colours.

Dabbing his mouth with his napkin, Slughorn nodded looking happier. "Very true. It could have been a tragedy, both for the family and the school. The silver lining is that Miss Summers now has the patronage of the Blacks. I'm sure that, over time, Walburga will be able to teach her the necessary social graces, acquaint her with our ways and knock the rough edges off."

Dumbledore shot an uneasy look at the Slytherin table. There were more students gathered at the table now, but he glimpsed the top of Buffy's head as she spoke animately to Cornelius Travers, a Muggleborn Slytherin. He took a deep breath. Whatever Buffy chose to be in life, she was unlikely to turn blood purist like the Blacks.

"I've invited Miss Summers to one of my dinners," Slughorn added out the blue.

That got Dumbledore's attention. "Because of the Black's interest?" he asked.

"Partly, partly," Slughorn's smile was sly. "She also has a naive charm that draws you to her. A witch like that... she could make some interesting and powerful connections in future... given the right opportunity."

Dumbledore's heart flipped. Back at the orphanage he'd noticed the girl's ability to project a mixture of innocence and fun to enchant the unwary. He knew all too well that her father had the same charm in great abundance.

Unaware of Dumbledore's growing uneasiness, Slughorn drank from his goblet and continued happily, "Not to mention she's already gained the attention of Marcus Lestrange. The Lestranges and the Blacks... Now there's a girl who could go to places."

"I'm sure she could," Dumbledore replied genially. Under his breath, he added, "Hopefully, not the same places her father treads."

Joyce had asked him to keep watch over her daughter. It would have been easier if Buffy had been sorted into Gryffindor. Not only would he have been able to keep a closer eye on her, but House rivalry would have shielded her from the interest of the Slytherins. Unfortunately, the Hat had thought she had more Slytherin traits than Gryffindor and sent her directly to the snakepit.

Without a shadow of a doubt, the Pureblood parents would soon be reading their children's letters and wondering who exactly this Buffy Summers was. As for her father... Joyce was right to be wary. How long would it be before he found out his daughter was now attending Hogwarts? Would he send someone to check on her? Surely, he'd allow her to complete her education before announcing himself? Dumbledore reached out to refill his goblet. Today, he needed that second glass of wine.

"What are you two old fogies whispering about!?" The grey-haired witch, Galatea Merrythought asked. The DADA teacher had been shooting them curious glances from the moment they'd sat down. She turned to Madam Trelawney. "Pandora, they're plotting. Any ideas what about?"

At the sudden question, Trelawney's eyes grew large behind her magnifying lenses. "Hard times are upon us, potents of death were seen in my teacup at breakfast and I saw a crow flying north."

Slughorn's eyes met Dumbledore's. Neither wizard commented, yet both knew what the other thought of Trelawney.

Slughorn wisely ignored the Divination teacher. He protested half-heartedly to Galatea, "Less of the old fogey, there's plenty of life in me yet!" He patted his protruding belly happily.

Merrythought leaned around Albus and grinned at Horace, totally unabashed. "Never said there wasn't, Horace. I'm older than the pair of you put together and I still feel like a schoolgirl. Well, almost. My creaking joints certainly feel their age on a cold winter morning. I keep saying to myself, 'Galatea old girl, this Scottish winter will be your last.' Yet every September I'm back here again. Got to keep going, I suppose. Once you stop, you might as well roll right over into your own grave."

A knowing expression came over her face. "Talking of graves and dodgy limbs, are you two betting on Kettleburn losing an appendage this year? He's done remarkably well for several years, it's high time he lost at least a finger, don't you think?

Despite himself, Slughorn laughed. "Merlin, Galatea! You're a incorrigible! If Silvanus hears you..."

"Galatea snorted derisively. "I'm not scared of that old goat. I went to school with his mother. Worst witch I ever saw - dropped her wand constantly. His father wasn't much better. If it isn't Kettleburn you're discussing, who are ye talking about?"

"One of my new transfer students, Miss Summers. You have yet to have the pleasure of teaching her." Slughorn wriggled his fingers and cried, "Watch out for the Wrackspurts!"

"Is she a Seer?" asked Pandora Trelawney, her eyes blinking fast behind her glasses. "Does she have the Sight?"

"She definitely sees things," agreed Horace. "Invisible creatures no one else does. I asked Pringle if he'd heard of them and he assured me there is no such creature."

The DADA teacher rolled her eyes, then frowned suddenly. "Oh! Wrackspurts... Now I remember. Last person I heard talking about them was Bendy Lovegood, the one who married into the Bones family. Always wandering around Hogwarts, poking her nose into dark corners while wearing those monstrous glasses. Claimed she was going to write a book."

Albus nodded to himself. So that's where Buffy had learned about Wrackspurts. She'd been reading Bendy Bones' book one day when he'd arrived at the Lovegood house early for a lesson. "Her great-niece is Buffy Summers," he said.

Galatea grinned. "Ah, the gel who rescued the Black's brat."

Slughorn winced. "Galatea!" The elderly woman's irreverent attitude often appalled him and now was no exception.

"Phh!" huffed Galatea. "Stop being such a namby-pamby boy, Horace Slughorn. There's only us adults here." She leaned forward again and beamed. "I'm looking forward to meeting her. According to Albus, she's very flexible and has great reflexes."

Dumbledore refused to look up. He concentrated on slicing the food on his plate. He liked Galatea, he really did, but sometimes her mouth ran away with her.

"Really?" Slughorn asked. He peered at Dumbledore and then at the short-haired woman. "Flexible?

The DADA teacher's smile widened. "Told me over the summer that a Miss Summers managed to de-wand him."

Slughorn blinked, his fork of chicken hovering in mid-air. "Is that true, Albus?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Very much so. When I visited her residence to invite her to Hogwarts she took great affront at me entering her room. She kicked me into her wardrobe and later had my wand in her hand before I had the chance to defend myself." He didn't mention the boggart in her wardrobe. Now, he wondered if she'd left it behind at the orphanage or if it had left of its own accord.

Involuntary, his gaze drifted to Buffy once more. This time he could clearly see her. She was leaning back in her seat, talking across the aisle to Lovell. Shadows and light sharpened the graceful angles of her face and Dumbledore was reminded sharply of him. And by him, he wasn't thinking of her cousin.

"Excellent," Galatea Merrythought exclaimed. "We don't have enough gels in the Duelling Club. An influx of fresh blood will liven things up."

The echo of old pain hit Dumbledore once again and he looked away from the American. "You'll find Miss Summers is not quite ready for the duelling class yet, Galatea. She's not defenceless, but I didn't have time to train her in the art of duelling, I'm afraid."

…...