Harry Potter and The Key, Chapter 3
By: PepperjackCandy
Disclaimer: All things Buffy are owned by Joss Whedon, Alien Enemy, 20th Century Fox, etc. The Harry Potter universe is owned by J.K. Rowling. I'm just putting them in the same bowl and mixing them up a bit. 8-)
Once again, SPOILER WARNING for those who haven't seen Season 5 of Buffy or read Book 4 of Harry Potter.
A/N: I'm **completely** unspoiled for Buffy, (except for the odd quote from Joss indicating that Buffy will somehow return sometime next season). So, from here on in, I'm winging it. If what I'm writing corresponds with any existing spoilers, then I'm surprised. If it happens to correspond with what actually happens in Season 6, I'm **very** surprised.
Also, I seem to remember that there's a fireplace in Giles's apartment. Seems to me that it's on the right-hand side of the room as you look at his front door, but I can't find a definitive screencap anywhere. Well, if there isn't, there is now. Maybe he moved.
========
23 May, 2001 (since we're in Europe for this part of the tale) 9:00 a.m.
"Harry?" Hermione asked as she looked over her copy of the Daily Prophet. "What's the name of your girlfriend?"
"Dawn." He answered as he took a bite of his toast, unable to suppress a small smile at Hermione's use of the term 'girlfriend.'
"Dawn Summers, right? Does she have a sister named Buffy?" Hermione continued.
Harry, whose mouth was still full of toast, nodded.
"Sunnydale, California?" She asked in a worried tone.
"What are you getting at Hermione?" Ron asked.
She turned the front page of the Daily Prophet to face the two boys. "This."
There, in 72-point type, the headline read, And Then There Was One.
by Rita Skeeter
The superfluity of Vampire Slayers engendered by the near-death experience of Buffy Summers in 1997 was rectified today when Buffy Summers was killed while fighting the god Glorificus . . . .
Harry couldn't read any farther. Terror seizing his chest, he grabbed the newspaper from Hermione's hands and made a beeline for Dumbledore's office.
"Look." He said to the gargoyle. "I don't have time for guessing games. Please let me up to see Professor Dumbledore immediately."
The gargoyle leaped aside and Harry could have sworn it had a surprised expression on its face as it did so.
Harry knocked on Dumbledore's office door and then walked in. "Professor Dumbledore," he said. "May I be excused from classes for a few days?" He placed the story about Buffy's death on Dumbledore's desk.
Dumbledore slid an oil lamp on his desk out of the way and pulled the newspaper closer toward him, reading it. "This is the sister of that Summers girl who was Cedric's most important thing, isn't it? Rumor has it that you and she have been writing to each other."
"Yes sir. So you can see why I need to take some time off."
"Actually," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, "I don't. Surely your friend has other friends and family she can turn to."
"But none of them *understand,* sir."
"Understand? Understand what?"
"What it's like to lose everything. You see, Dawn's mother died a few months ago . . ."
"And now her sister. Yes, yes. I see. But I cannot let you just go haring off to California like that. You're protected from Voldemort here, and at your aunt and uncle's house. But you wouldn't be protected there."
"I don't care, sir. It's a risk I'm prepared to take."
"You'd risk your life like that for this girl? She must mean an awful lot to you."
"Yes, sir. She does." Harry hadn't realized how much, until the cold hand of terror had grabbed his heart at news of Buffy's death.
"How will you get to California?"
"I'll take muggle transportation. I have plenty of money. I can change it to muggle money and buy a plane ticket to California."
"You know so much about using muggle transportation, do you?"
"What's there to know? You get on a plane at one end, you get off at the other. Like riding the Hogwarts Express." He shrugged.
"And besides, I'm 14 years old. If I get confused, people will help me out, I'm sure."
"And what if I won't let you back into Hogwarts after you come back?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry shrugged. "I'll go to muggle school."
"You would, wouldn't you?" He sighed heavily. "All right. Go pack your things. I'll make your travel arrangements. No muggle transportation for you. Takes too long. And I'll contact one of our alumni who lives in Sunnydale to keep watch over you while you're in town."
Harry couldn't believe his ears. "Really, sir?"
"Yes. Really. Now go and get packed. Remember to pack muggle clothes only. You won't need robes in California."
Harry smiled. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He dashed from the room and bounded down the stairs.
Dumbledore slid the oil lamp back where it had been when Harry walked in. "Now, as I was saying, we'll need a temporary emergency connection to the floo network in Sunnydale California."
"Where, specifically, sir?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "While I'm contacting Rupert Giles to arrange for him to watch over Harry for us, I'll make sure to ask him if he has a fireplace and then I'll get back to you."
Dumbledore extinguished the flame of the lamp, then lit it again. "Voco Rupert Giles!" He called out softly.
After everything that had happened with Dick Wilkens in 1999, the police had been more than willing to accept the tale that Buffy's death had been an accident, and after they had left the scene of Buffy's death, the Scoobies and Spike had taken Dawn home.
Giles, for his part, couldn't wait to get out of the clothes he'd been wearing when he killed Ben, so he went back to his apartment. Killing Ben had been necessary, unavoidable, he assured himself, not feeling very reassured.
That was when he saw the whiskey decanter. It sat there, calling to him, telling him that it could make him feel better about Ben's death, make him forget about Buffy's. Everything would be right with his world, and all for one drink. He shut his ears to it, heading instead for the shower.
A few minutes later, feeling cleaner, but not any better, Giles came back into his living room wearing his bathrobe. The decanter was still singing its siren song, and this time Giles listened. He unstoppered the decanter, splashing about two fingers' worth into the bottom of a glass.
He downed the liquor in one gulp and was about to go back for another when he saw the glow from the oil lamp on his mantel.
Wondering who it could be, he sighed. "Respondeo."
"Is this Rupert Giles?"
"Yes?" Giles knew the speaker. He was sure of it. But he couldn't quite place the voice.
"This is Albus Dumbledore, of Hogwarts."
That was who it was! He hadn't heard the voice of his old headmaster in longer than he cared to think about. In fact, he didn't really care to think about his old headmaster, either.
He suppressed these feelings. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore."
"I need to ask a favor of you. News of the Slayer's death came out in the Daily Prophet this morning, and one of our students has taken it into his head that he needs to come to Sunnydale."
"Let me guess," Giles responded bitterly, "Harry Potter."
"Ah. So you know that Harry has been in contact with Miss Summers?"
"Against my most stringent objections, yes."
"Well, be that as it may, I need you to keep an eye on Harry while he's in Sunnydale."
Dumbledore seemed able to read the petulant refusal in Giles's heart, for next he said, "Voldemort is after Harry. I think he might be preparing to rise again. You know we cannot afford to have Harry fall into Voldemort's hands, Rupert."
"Is there anything you can do to keep Potter at Hogwarts?" Giles asked without hope.
"No. I asked him what he would do if I forbid him to go, and he told me that he'd take muggle transportation, and that he'd even finish his education at a muggle school if he needed to, to be able to be with Dawn through this."
Giles snorted. "Sounds like a bloody Gryffindor all right."
"I heard that, Giles."
"You were meant to."
"There's more to Harry than you might think, based on his House. But you don't have to like him. If defeating Voldemort means anything to you, you'll agree to protect him just for that sake."
Giles sighed, knowing that Dumbledore had just played the one card he couldn't beat. "All right. When should I expect him?"
"Do you have a fireplace?"
Giles was surprised. "It's that important, is it?"
"Actually it is. Muggle transport takes too long. So, since he's not old enough to Apparate, and there's no time to build a Portkey, the floo network's all that's left."
"I have a fireplace here in my apartment. You might want to warn him that it's rather small, though."
He could hear triumph in Dumbledore's tone. "I'll have it hooked up to the floo network, and Harry will be there within the hour."
Sure enough, just after Giles had changed into clean clothes, he returned to his living room to find a pair of legs sticking down from his chimney. A boy's voice called out, "Hello? Is anyone there?"
"Hang on a minute," Giles walked to the fireplace and grasped the boy's ankles. "You ready?" He asked.
"I guess so," the boy responded in a dubious tone.
Giles lifted him up slightly, then gently slid his legs out of the fireplace, until the boy was seated on the floor of the fireplace, a small overnight bag clutched in his hand.
The only spot of color on the boy was the bright green of his eyes, everything else was black with soot. His hair stuck up all over.
The boy sneezed. As he climbed out of the fireplace and straggled to his feet, he said, "Hi. Are you Rupert Giles?"
Rupert nodded. "And you must be Harry Potter." He tried to keep his tone neutral. "We'll go over to Dawn's house momentarily, but you probably want to get cleaned up first. There's a bathroom through there."
"Thanks." Harry gave Giles a half-smile and took his bag into the bathroom.
Giles heard water running and reminded himself to call his cleaning lady to do something about that bathroom after Harry was done. Moments later, Harry emerged, his skin pink from scrubbing. Only those same green eyes and dishevelled hair marked him as the same boy who'd gone into the bathroom.
"Ready to go?" Giles asked shortly.
Harry nodded, and they walked to the door. "Thank you."
"For what?" They left the apartment and Giles locked it behind him. Harry noticed that it was dark outside. Then he remembered the time difference. It was something like six hours earlier in California than in Britain.*
"Partly for the bathroom, but mostly letting me come visit Dawn."
"I didn't have much choice. Professor Dumbledore said you'd come whether or not I approved."
Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, so he changed the subject. "You went to Hogwarts?"
Giles nodded.
They climbed into the car and buckled their seatbelts. "What House were you in?"
"Ravenclaw."
"I don't know many Ravenclaws. I share classes with Hufflepuff and Slytherin, though. With Hufflepuff, I have Herbology, and then with Slytherin, I have . . ."
"Potions."
"And Care of Magical Creatures. How did you know that I have Potions with the Slytherins?"
"Gryffindor and Slytherin have always had Potions together. Even back in my day."
"But you were a Ravenclaw . . ."
"I said that I was a Ravenclaw. I didn't say that my friends were."
--------------
*Actually, it's eight hours earlier, so when it was 9:00 a.m. at Hogwarts, it was 1:00 a.m. in Sunnydale, and it's probably about an hour and a half later now, so it's 2:30 a.m. in Sunnydale.
By: PepperjackCandy
Disclaimer: All things Buffy are owned by Joss Whedon, Alien Enemy, 20th Century Fox, etc. The Harry Potter universe is owned by J.K. Rowling. I'm just putting them in the same bowl and mixing them up a bit. 8-)
Once again, SPOILER WARNING for those who haven't seen Season 5 of Buffy or read Book 4 of Harry Potter.
A/N: I'm **completely** unspoiled for Buffy, (except for the odd quote from Joss indicating that Buffy will somehow return sometime next season). So, from here on in, I'm winging it. If what I'm writing corresponds with any existing spoilers, then I'm surprised. If it happens to correspond with what actually happens in Season 6, I'm **very** surprised.
Also, I seem to remember that there's a fireplace in Giles's apartment. Seems to me that it's on the right-hand side of the room as you look at his front door, but I can't find a definitive screencap anywhere. Well, if there isn't, there is now. Maybe he moved.
========
23 May, 2001 (since we're in Europe for this part of the tale) 9:00 a.m.
"Harry?" Hermione asked as she looked over her copy of the Daily Prophet. "What's the name of your girlfriend?"
"Dawn." He answered as he took a bite of his toast, unable to suppress a small smile at Hermione's use of the term 'girlfriend.'
"Dawn Summers, right? Does she have a sister named Buffy?" Hermione continued.
Harry, whose mouth was still full of toast, nodded.
"Sunnydale, California?" She asked in a worried tone.
"What are you getting at Hermione?" Ron asked.
She turned the front page of the Daily Prophet to face the two boys. "This."
There, in 72-point type, the headline read, And Then There Was One.
by Rita Skeeter
The superfluity of Vampire Slayers engendered by the near-death experience of Buffy Summers in 1997 was rectified today when Buffy Summers was killed while fighting the god Glorificus . . . .
Harry couldn't read any farther. Terror seizing his chest, he grabbed the newspaper from Hermione's hands and made a beeline for Dumbledore's office.
"Look." He said to the gargoyle. "I don't have time for guessing games. Please let me up to see Professor Dumbledore immediately."
The gargoyle leaped aside and Harry could have sworn it had a surprised expression on its face as it did so.
Harry knocked on Dumbledore's office door and then walked in. "Professor Dumbledore," he said. "May I be excused from classes for a few days?" He placed the story about Buffy's death on Dumbledore's desk.
Dumbledore slid an oil lamp on his desk out of the way and pulled the newspaper closer toward him, reading it. "This is the sister of that Summers girl who was Cedric's most important thing, isn't it? Rumor has it that you and she have been writing to each other."
"Yes sir. So you can see why I need to take some time off."
"Actually," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, "I don't. Surely your friend has other friends and family she can turn to."
"But none of them *understand,* sir."
"Understand? Understand what?"
"What it's like to lose everything. You see, Dawn's mother died a few months ago . . ."
"And now her sister. Yes, yes. I see. But I cannot let you just go haring off to California like that. You're protected from Voldemort here, and at your aunt and uncle's house. But you wouldn't be protected there."
"I don't care, sir. It's a risk I'm prepared to take."
"You'd risk your life like that for this girl? She must mean an awful lot to you."
"Yes, sir. She does." Harry hadn't realized how much, until the cold hand of terror had grabbed his heart at news of Buffy's death.
"How will you get to California?"
"I'll take muggle transportation. I have plenty of money. I can change it to muggle money and buy a plane ticket to California."
"You know so much about using muggle transportation, do you?"
"What's there to know? You get on a plane at one end, you get off at the other. Like riding the Hogwarts Express." He shrugged.
"And besides, I'm 14 years old. If I get confused, people will help me out, I'm sure."
"And what if I won't let you back into Hogwarts after you come back?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry shrugged. "I'll go to muggle school."
"You would, wouldn't you?" He sighed heavily. "All right. Go pack your things. I'll make your travel arrangements. No muggle transportation for you. Takes too long. And I'll contact one of our alumni who lives in Sunnydale to keep watch over you while you're in town."
Harry couldn't believe his ears. "Really, sir?"
"Yes. Really. Now go and get packed. Remember to pack muggle clothes only. You won't need robes in California."
Harry smiled. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He dashed from the room and bounded down the stairs.
Dumbledore slid the oil lamp back where it had been when Harry walked in. "Now, as I was saying, we'll need a temporary emergency connection to the floo network in Sunnydale California."
"Where, specifically, sir?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "While I'm contacting Rupert Giles to arrange for him to watch over Harry for us, I'll make sure to ask him if he has a fireplace and then I'll get back to you."
Dumbledore extinguished the flame of the lamp, then lit it again. "Voco Rupert Giles!" He called out softly.
After everything that had happened with Dick Wilkens in 1999, the police had been more than willing to accept the tale that Buffy's death had been an accident, and after they had left the scene of Buffy's death, the Scoobies and Spike had taken Dawn home.
Giles, for his part, couldn't wait to get out of the clothes he'd been wearing when he killed Ben, so he went back to his apartment. Killing Ben had been necessary, unavoidable, he assured himself, not feeling very reassured.
That was when he saw the whiskey decanter. It sat there, calling to him, telling him that it could make him feel better about Ben's death, make him forget about Buffy's. Everything would be right with his world, and all for one drink. He shut his ears to it, heading instead for the shower.
A few minutes later, feeling cleaner, but not any better, Giles came back into his living room wearing his bathrobe. The decanter was still singing its siren song, and this time Giles listened. He unstoppered the decanter, splashing about two fingers' worth into the bottom of a glass.
He downed the liquor in one gulp and was about to go back for another when he saw the glow from the oil lamp on his mantel.
Wondering who it could be, he sighed. "Respondeo."
"Is this Rupert Giles?"
"Yes?" Giles knew the speaker. He was sure of it. But he couldn't quite place the voice.
"This is Albus Dumbledore, of Hogwarts."
That was who it was! He hadn't heard the voice of his old headmaster in longer than he cared to think about. In fact, he didn't really care to think about his old headmaster, either.
He suppressed these feelings. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore."
"I need to ask a favor of you. News of the Slayer's death came out in the Daily Prophet this morning, and one of our students has taken it into his head that he needs to come to Sunnydale."
"Let me guess," Giles responded bitterly, "Harry Potter."
"Ah. So you know that Harry has been in contact with Miss Summers?"
"Against my most stringent objections, yes."
"Well, be that as it may, I need you to keep an eye on Harry while he's in Sunnydale."
Dumbledore seemed able to read the petulant refusal in Giles's heart, for next he said, "Voldemort is after Harry. I think he might be preparing to rise again. You know we cannot afford to have Harry fall into Voldemort's hands, Rupert."
"Is there anything you can do to keep Potter at Hogwarts?" Giles asked without hope.
"No. I asked him what he would do if I forbid him to go, and he told me that he'd take muggle transportation, and that he'd even finish his education at a muggle school if he needed to, to be able to be with Dawn through this."
Giles snorted. "Sounds like a bloody Gryffindor all right."
"I heard that, Giles."
"You were meant to."
"There's more to Harry than you might think, based on his House. But you don't have to like him. If defeating Voldemort means anything to you, you'll agree to protect him just for that sake."
Giles sighed, knowing that Dumbledore had just played the one card he couldn't beat. "All right. When should I expect him?"
"Do you have a fireplace?"
Giles was surprised. "It's that important, is it?"
"Actually it is. Muggle transport takes too long. So, since he's not old enough to Apparate, and there's no time to build a Portkey, the floo network's all that's left."
"I have a fireplace here in my apartment. You might want to warn him that it's rather small, though."
He could hear triumph in Dumbledore's tone. "I'll have it hooked up to the floo network, and Harry will be there within the hour."
Sure enough, just after Giles had changed into clean clothes, he returned to his living room to find a pair of legs sticking down from his chimney. A boy's voice called out, "Hello? Is anyone there?"
"Hang on a minute," Giles walked to the fireplace and grasped the boy's ankles. "You ready?" He asked.
"I guess so," the boy responded in a dubious tone.
Giles lifted him up slightly, then gently slid his legs out of the fireplace, until the boy was seated on the floor of the fireplace, a small overnight bag clutched in his hand.
The only spot of color on the boy was the bright green of his eyes, everything else was black with soot. His hair stuck up all over.
The boy sneezed. As he climbed out of the fireplace and straggled to his feet, he said, "Hi. Are you Rupert Giles?"
Rupert nodded. "And you must be Harry Potter." He tried to keep his tone neutral. "We'll go over to Dawn's house momentarily, but you probably want to get cleaned up first. There's a bathroom through there."
"Thanks." Harry gave Giles a half-smile and took his bag into the bathroom.
Giles heard water running and reminded himself to call his cleaning lady to do something about that bathroom after Harry was done. Moments later, Harry emerged, his skin pink from scrubbing. Only those same green eyes and dishevelled hair marked him as the same boy who'd gone into the bathroom.
"Ready to go?" Giles asked shortly.
Harry nodded, and they walked to the door. "Thank you."
"For what?" They left the apartment and Giles locked it behind him. Harry noticed that it was dark outside. Then he remembered the time difference. It was something like six hours earlier in California than in Britain.*
"Partly for the bathroom, but mostly letting me come visit Dawn."
"I didn't have much choice. Professor Dumbledore said you'd come whether or not I approved."
Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, so he changed the subject. "You went to Hogwarts?"
Giles nodded.
They climbed into the car and buckled their seatbelts. "What House were you in?"
"Ravenclaw."
"I don't know many Ravenclaws. I share classes with Hufflepuff and Slytherin, though. With Hufflepuff, I have Herbology, and then with Slytherin, I have . . ."
"Potions."
"And Care of Magical Creatures. How did you know that I have Potions with the Slytherins?"
"Gryffindor and Slytherin have always had Potions together. Even back in my day."
"But you were a Ravenclaw . . ."
"I said that I was a Ravenclaw. I didn't say that my friends were."
--------------
*Actually, it's eight hours earlier, so when it was 9:00 a.m. at Hogwarts, it was 1:00 a.m. in Sunnydale, and it's probably about an hour and a half later now, so it's 2:30 a.m. in Sunnydale.