Chapter 45
Endings and New Beginnings
Over in the front half of the room, Buffy heard a clock ticking loudly on the fireplace, closer by Fawkes shook his feathers, shuffled on his perch, and yawned. The hat's magic tickled at her spidey-senses and she was aware of the brim pressing into her eyebrows. The last time she'd had dealings with the Sorting Hat it had been vocal, chattering on until it announced she was a Slytherin. Now, there was silence. Well, there was almost silence, Buffy swore she could hear faint snoring.
Peeking out from under the hat's brim, she saw Dumbledore in the adjacent chair, his legs crossed and his face half-hidden by a copy of the Daily Prophet. The paper's headline read, 'IS GRINDELWALD BACK IN PARIS?' Under the headlines was also a moving photo of an agitated Grindelwald, shouting silently at someone off-camera.
"Um, Professor?"
Dumbledore turned a page of his newspaper. "Hmm?"
"The hat isn't speaking. Is there a magic word to wake it up? Revivio or something?"
His eyes on the newspaper he replied, "No, and you are thinking of the Rennervate."
Buffy screwed her nose up. "I thought that was for repairing smashed-up stuff in the house?"
"Reparo is the Mending Charm. You should know this." Dumbledore turned another page. "They won't work on the hat. You need to try being nice and saying 'please'."
Buffy scowled. Under her breath, she muttered, "Wise guy."
Glad that no one could hear her, Buffy addressed the hat with feigned sweetness, "Excuse me, Mr Sorting Hat. Can we speak, please?"
"Oh, it is please now, is it?" the hat retorted. "When we last met, you sent offensive images of me being torn apart at the seams and burned over a hot fire!"
"You said I was a Slytherin!" Buffy protested.
"You ARE a Slytherin," the hat snapped. "Salazar would have wanted you in his House. Well, I don't care how much violence you threaten me with, I am not changing my mind." And the hat began to hum to itself, trying to drown out Buffy's thoughts.
"I'm not here to complain about the House or tear you apart!" Buffy yelled inside her head. In a corner of her mind, the Slayer hissed, "YET!"
"I HEARD that!" squawked the hat. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"
"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm kinda frustrated here." Buffy unfurled her fists and took a deep breath. She needed to calm down. Getting mad and threatening violence wouldn't work. In a much milder tone, she went on, "I have amnesia and -."
"You want to know what is hidden inside your head," the hat replied flatly, not allowing her to finish. "You want to know who you were before you woke up under the rubble and to understand the memories you have."
Buffy nodded vigorously, and the hat pitched forward, almost falling from her head. Buffy pushed it back in place. "Can you show me my memories?"
The hat was silent.
"Please? Pretty please?" She took a gamble and said, "I know you wanna look, and while you're looking you could show me what's in there."
"I am not a pensieve," the hat replied huffily, "I cannot show memories. It is possible that I COULD give you clues, but I am not sure it is wise. Why not live your life from this point on and forget a past you cannot change?"
"Because it feels like I'm... going crazy," Buffy admitted. "I have all these memories of me being older and dying in horrible ways. I can remember a school I never attended, a sister I never had, friends, finding Mom dead..."
Buffy swallowed, trying to force the lump in her throat away. She didn't need to look at Dumbledore's face to know he was watching her. As a Slayer, she could sense the weight of his gaze on her face. Buffy squeezed her eyelids tightly shut, pushing back tears. She would not cry in front of Dumbledore.
The hat mumbled to itself, its words so low that even her enhanced hearing couldn't make sense of them. Finally, it replied, "You shouldn't have that second set of memories."
"Then, why are they there?" she pressed. Sometimes it felt as if her entire life was one giant jigsaw puzzle, and someone had hidden all the main pieces.
"I cannot help you to make sense of it," the Hat replied tiredly."The whisper of Rowena Ravenclaw's knowledge in my mind yet I do not have her sharp intelligence. I'm only a Sorting Hat, created to place pupils into the right Houses, but I will tell you what I know."
Buffy waited, and the hat let out a long sigh before speaking, "It is widely believed in the magical and non-magical communities, that a soul inhabits the human body. Once the earthly container dies, the soul passes on... to new adventures."
"Like, going to Heaven or Hell?" Buffy asked. Those were the usual places people thought they went to after they died. But even as she thought that other, very different, memories pushed themselves forward. Flashes of faces from other realities that were similar and yet very different to her own.
The hat listened to her thoughts, seeing more of those memory fragments than she did. It seemed fascinated by what it saw. "After death your soul crossed over into this dimension."
"You think I was reborn here?" It sort of made sense. Sort of because, even if she accepted that theory, it created even more questions. "Why do I still have memories of a previous life? And why do I have the same name and face?"
The hat's brim lifted in a parody of a shrug. "Perhaps there are many different versions of Buffy Summers? As for remembering that last life... It may be a side effect of Von Kendrick's dark spell, whatever that was."
"You mean, whatever he hit me with brought back memories of my last life?"
She didn't remember Von Kendrick's attack, let alone what spell he'd used on her. She had a vague memory of being in London with her Mom, but nothing else. The last thing she recalled from her previous life was falling into a portal created by blood magic. That was a bad sign. Dumbledore had spoken to her about blood magic over the summer, he'd said that it was the most powerful magic of all and best avoided.
So, what was the spell Von Kendrick had used on her? It might provide a clue to the resurgence of past life memories. She had more answers now but felt a long way from having them all.
"The answers don't bring you peace," the hat replied wisely.
Buffy didn't answer. A different question, but no less important was forming in her mind. "What do you know about Slayers?"
"Ah," replied the hat smugly. "Helga Hufflepuff knew of the existence of Slayers, even though the other Founders didn't. A Slayer is a Muggle girl, chosen to be imbued with the essence of a warrior demon and kept under the control of a secret organisation called the Watchers Council. I have sat in the Headmaster's office for almost a thousand years and only once have I heard them discuss a Slayer."
"And what did they say?"
The hat was silent.
"Hat?"
"There'd been a witch in Hogwarts who'd been called as a Slayer. The Headmaster told his wife that the Wizarding World had known better than to stand between a Slayer and the Watchers Council. He said that it was a pity, but at least it was the last time it would happen."
"What does that mean?"
"I think," said the hat slowly, "he was saying she was the last of the Slayers." There was a beat of silence. "And then there is you."
Buffy didn't recall much about leaving Dumbledore's office. She remembered standing up after the hat had finished speaking to her and seeing the concern on Dumbledore's face. Or maybe it hadn't been concern but curiosity.
"The hat didn't tell me anything about Von Kendrick's attack," she'd said. It wasn't a lie. "It told me mainly private life stuff." That was true as well. Slayers and their past life memories were private. "I'm still processing."
He'd looked at her for a long moment, wondering if she was telling the truth, then gave her a sympathetic nod and let her go.
She'd gone onto auto-pilot and found herself in the Slytherin Common. Faces had spoken to her, she didn't recall who, and she'd made non-committal replies. There was a vague memory of Walburga inviting her to tea with her and Lucretia. She'd refused, saying that she needed to study and ignored the girl's glare. Buffy brushed it off. There was more to think about than offending this 'verse's version of Cordelia Chase. Grabbing her school bag and the boggart's box from her school trunk Buffy had hurried out.
It must have been her nose that led her to the Hogwarts library. Buffy hovered in the doorway, breathing in the familiar smell of old books, ancient knowledge, and magic. She swayed, as the memory of Sunnydale High's library hit her.
The school library had been the Scoobies domain. Few regular students went in there, and those that did were hurried out and made to feel uncomfortable by the school's librarian. It had been a place for the Scoobies to meet, to talk of demons, research, munch on snacks and listen to Giles whilst making plans. An image flashed into her mind of Rupert Giles as he rubbed the lenses of his glasses came to her. He'd been the epitome of a stand-offish man from the Land-Of Tweed when she'd first met him.
Her eyes darted across to the main desk, where a short, plump wizard with a long pointed nose presided over the library. There was no Giles here for her. No one welcoming her with a copy of Vampyr.
Giles had been so much more than a Watcher sent by the Council. He'd been her mentor, her support in dark times, and he'd cared for her like a father. Had he grieved when she died? Had her friends missed her? What happened to them all?
Her eyes blurred with tears, Buffy didn't notice the Slytherin boy by the shelves on her right. She didn't see him replace the book onto the shelf and hesitate, watching her wipe tears from her cheeks. Her thoughts rattled on, uncontrolled and undirected...
Libraries... they'd played a huge part in her last life and right now she couldn't face being in another.
Buffy walked off in a daze, following corridor after corridor, climbing stairs, and ignoring any ghost or student she met along the way. Eventually, at the top level of the building, she came to an old oak studded door barring her way to the roof. She stood in front of it, sensing the magic holding it shut and pondering her next move. After a swift glance over her shoulder, to check the coast was clear, she pointed her yew wand at the door's lock and used the only unlocking charm she knew.
"Alohomara!"
Purple magic hit the doorknob. Magic crackled and sparks shot across the lock as the entire door shuddered and groaned. A small part of Buffy registered that she'd overpowered the spell, but mostly she was too intent on escaping the confines of the castle to care.
Buffy stepped through the doorway, pulling the door closed behind her. Out on the battlements, high above the ground, the wind whipped at her hair and dried the tears on her face. It brought along with it the smell of the Scottish Highlands, mountain heather, dying rust-coloured bracken, the scent of the water in the loch, and a faint whiff of the sea.
The wind invigorated the Slayer, and Buffy breathed in deep lungfuls. With each breath she took she become less numb and more grounded. Yes, she'd died and left good friends behind, but she wasn't alone. Her Mom was alive and loved her. She had an eccentric uncle who'd welcomed her into his home and a cousin who was already like a brother to her. No matter what the hat said, she was still a Slayer, and in this world she had something new - magic.
Buffy moved to the nearest stone chimney, sliding down on the lee side of it and drawing her knees up to her chest. Now that she was out of the wind, she opened the lid of the boggart's box. Happy to be out of the small space, Spikey flew high into the air before dropping back down like a stone. With an excited spin, he turned and charged the length of the castellations and back again. Eventually, he slowed, coming to a halt in front of her and hovering excitedly until he spotted her dark mood. He moved away, cycling through several shape-shifting transformations until he finally settled on one very familiar to her.
"Spike," she said. Of all the faces he could have picked from her past life, the boggart had chosen to look like the blonde vampire.
He sauntered towards her, hands buried in the pockets of his ankle-length leather jacket with all of Spike's cockiness. Buffy knew he wasn't trying to frighten her, the vampire didn't scare her and neither did the boggart. But why did would the boggart think she'd enjoy Spike's company?
The boggart-vampire slid down on the roof slope next to her and when she leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder, she felt strangely comforted. Who would have guessed they'd get along so well? A witch and a boggart, a slayer and a vampire, Buffy and Spikey...
Time passed, the sickle moon slid from behind racing clouds, and stars came out to join her. Buffy sat almost motionless, looking out over the lake to the dark mountain ranges beyond. The bell rang for student curfew and the castle grew quieter. The prefects would be out now, patrolling the classrooms and corridors looking for errant students. The door she'd left by was out of sight, but Buffy didn't hear anyone checking it. Was the roof out of bounds to prefects as well as other students? Not that she cared about rules, she'd stay here all night if she wanted...
"Oh, crap!" Buffy jumped to her feet, sending a startled Spikey sprawling onto the roof. "Sorry! I just remembered, I have an Astronomy class at midnight!"
With a spin and a snap, Spikey transformed himself into Albus Dumbledore. Buffy's heart sank. He wanted to accompany her to her next lesson.
"It's a good idea," she lied, "but I think you're better off going in your box."
The boggart didn't agree. Still wearing the deputy Headmaster's form, he scowled and backed away. Buffy followed, waving the box at him determinedly. With a shake of his head, Spikey disapparated away from the rooftop.
"I haven't time to chase you!" she called. The boggart didn't return and, with a last dark glower at where he'd been, Buffy picked up her bag and set off for the Astronomy Tower.
When she rounded the last of the stairs, she found Lovell waiting for her. He looked pale and his curly hair stuck out at erratic right angles to his head. As soon as he spotted her, he burst out, "Have you been to Hogsmeade looking for the rogue Dementor?"
"No," Buffy replied, puzzled at the question. She'd never mentioned hunting the Dementor to Lovell, although she'd planned on sneaking out of Hogwarts and searching for it.
He looked at her in disbelief. "Then why are you still dressed?"
She rolled her eyes at the question. "Because I have class and... LOVELL!" she squeaked. "You're wearing your pjs!" She'd been so stressed about Spikey going off disguised as Albus Dumbledore that she hadn't noticed Lovell's clothes until now.
Her cousin fiddled with his dressing gown's knot. "It's midnight. I'm bound to be in my pyjamas."
Buffy placed her palm onto his forehead. "You don't have a fever," she said after a moment. "Have you been chasing hallucinogenic moths again? This isn't your bedroom, and we have a class. Remember?"
If she'd expected him to blush and panic, it didn't happen. Instead, he stepped to one side and opened the classroom door. Inside, the rest of the class were waiting for the tutor to arrive. She spotted Slytherins unpacking textbooks from their bags, a group of Ravenclaws setting up telescopes ready for the lesson, whilst others gathered in small groups talking quietly.
The Slytherins and Ravenclaws were all dressed similarly, the boys in striped or plain pyjamas, the girls in long nightdresses covered by robes. Buffy looked at their shoes and saw some were even wearing their slippers. It appeared nightclothes were de rigueur for this class and no one had told her.
Seeing her face and knowing she'd feel awkward, Lovell gave Buffy's shoulder a little pat. "If anyone asks about your clothes, you stayed up late studying." He screwed up his nose, just like she did when she was thinking. "But if you haven't been hunting, where have you been? Your hair's all blown about as if you've been outside. And what happened with Dumbledore?"
That was one conversation Buffy didn't feel ready for. She tilted her head in the direction of the Astronomy professor who'd entered by another doorway. "I can't spill right now. Meet me in the library at lunch?" She winced. She'd automatically suggested the library, forgetting this was Hogwarts and not Sunnydale.
Lovell nodded, pulling out a chair for her at a nearby table. "We both have Arithmancy first lesson and McGonagall won't give us a chance to talk. The library it is then, I'll meet you straight after my DADA class."
'The library... was she ready to face the library with all those other associated memories?'
Buffy dropped her bag onto the table and began removing textbooks. Eyes burned into her from across the class, and she looked up, to see Tom watching her from beneath his lashes. According to Roz, Tom Riddle was always in the library...
Was trying to intimidate her by watching her so much? Buffy lifted her chin and kept her eyes on him as she withdrew her quill box and inks. So what if she started using the Hogwarts library as her new base? Her previous life might be over, but she was still Buffy Summers, secret-identity girl and vampire slayer. Tom Riddle and the rest of the Wizarding World would just have to move over and get used to it.
…...
A/N;
You may be wondering why the hat never mentioned Von Kendrick using the killing curse on Buffy and Willow's botched attempt to bring her back to life. It is because there's no way the hat could know. It only has a certain amount of knowledge.
Slayers... a hint there.
Sorry about the angst. I had to add some but tried to keep it to a minimum as I know it can be boring to read.
I hoped you liked little Spikey's attempt to cheer her up by pretending to be Spike. :-) It felt appropriate.
Last but not least, thanks to all for the reviews and kind words of encouragement last chapter. I guess we are our own worst critics sometimes.