I'm decidedly discouraged here...but here's the next bit anyway.
Btw everyone...I resigned from my job! Tomorrow is my last day. Yay! Don't get too excited though...I found something else, so it's not like I can write more. Haha. Not that anyone cares...since NO ONE is reading! Lol.
Chapter Thirty-six
"Another Visit to Ollivanders"
As soon as Buffy was able to get away from her lovely new Watcher—yay to that, she thought as she left the room—she sped down the stairs to shower and go to bed.
But when she got into her bed—hair and body now dirt-free—she wasn't sleepy tired at all anymore, so she pulled out her books and started reading. She was still reading when the sun rose the next morning.
Not that she could see that the sun had risen from her underground, tomb-like bedroom, she thought as she pushed her blankets off and got up to use the toilet—grabbing a wand as she went. It was becoming second nature to her to grab the thing—like a stake!
There were even two rooms just on the other side of the door that led outside that really looked like some of the crypts she'd seen at Highgate. They were used mostly for storage, but they'd be decent burial places as well. She laughed to herself at the thought.
In the bathroom she muttered, "Lumos" and grinned when a white light illuminated the tip of the wand she was holding. "Who needs electricity?" she said to herself as she put her wand down on the counter and used the facilities. When she was done, she brushed her teeth, the went back into her room, saying "Nox" as she went—and grinning again when the wand extinguished itself.
In her room, Buffy frowned at the lamp—because she was wishing for more natural light—not that she'd get much of it I the bowels of the Fairweather house—then looked at her closed curtains and frowned, wondering what the spell was to open them or if she could just think what she wanted and give a wand a wave to get what she wanted. For a moment she stood there staring and thinking, then concentrated in earnest and waved the wand in her hand. Nothing happened. She wasn't sure why. The whys and hows of this whole witch business were puzzling. Like, how could she not have known she was a witch when she was in Sunnydale and why didn't it manifest itself sooner?! It was such a mystery!
And there was so much to learn! How in the Hellmouth was she to learn everything she needed to know before going off to Hogwarts on September 1st?!
Or maybe it was the crappy wand she was holding—which made her think about the vampire hair she'd taken the night before. She had to get over to Diagon Alley again and bring her new treasures to the Ollivanders to see if maybe they'd be able to use them to craft her a wand.
But first, she thought as she set the wand on her bed, the curtains must open, she thought emphatically as she waved her hands—and arms—at the offending window coverings, glaring when still nothing happened.
"Now! Damn it!" she cursed, giving her arms another wave. This time, the curtains opened almost violently, slamming into the left side wall. After a moment of surprise, Buffy gave a shout of victory! Then looked over at Owlbert and Owlfred when they screeched loudly and gave her matching looks of annoyance.
"Sorry, guys," she said, going to them and giving them each a scratch and a treat. Owlfred snapped it up right away, still looking quite annoyed, but Owlbert's features softened a bit.
"Silly birds," Buffy said as she sat on her bed. They'd been out most of the night—hunting, she assumed—but had returned home at some point. At first Buffy was concerned that they'd just fly away, never to return, but they seemed to know their home and to whom they belonged—even if Owlfred was a bit testy. Buffy wondered if that was because he knew that he belonged to Tom and his owner wasn't there at the moment.
"Hmm," Buffy intoned, thinking about Tom. She missed him.
Then she wondered at her use of magic outside of school. Tom had told her it wasn't allowed, but...
Buffy hmm'd again and waited a moment...then a few minutes. But when thirty minutes had passed without a letter from the Ministry, she sighed and decided she was not going to get in trouble—or be expelled from a school she'd yet to attend. It would have been a shame to be invited and then kicked out all in the same week. All without burning down the gym!
Her wave of panic gone, Buffy yawned—then pushed her books aside and crawled back into bed. It was morning, but she was going to bed!
When she woke up it was the middle of the day—and she was hungry again!—so she got up and made her way up to the kitchen. No one seemed to be about, so she assumed that Vin and Sophie were in their rooms—sleeping off however many bottles of wine they'd polished off the night before—until she found a note from them telling her they'd gone shopping.
Buffy read the note a second time and hmm'd. "I should go shopping too," she said aloud as she put the note down and opened the refrigerator. She really wanted to head over to Diagon Alley, but...could she go it alone? She wasn't sure.
Grabbing the bread and butter, she decided on toast. She constantly had to remind herself that there was a war waging and that she needed go easy on the food. At least the food in the house. Tom had told her that there was no food shortage or rationing in the wizarding world, but she should be careful at home, she decided.
Still, she was hungry, so she prepared two slices of toast, then took the tea pot to the sink to fill, her thoughts wandering.
Home. Even though it hadn't been very long, she was definitely thinking of Vin and Sophie's house as home—and them as family in her home away from home. She smiled sadly as her mind went to her mother and wondered what was happening in 1997.
But she couldn't dwell on that. She just couldn't. Right now she needed to live her life where she was, because there was absolutely nothing she could do about anything out of the scope of her present location—and position in time.
Sighing, she prepared her toast, then plopped down at the table to eat it and drink her tea. What she wouldn't give to pop over to a Starbucks and grab a latte and some pastries!
As she nibbled, she let her mind wander to her plans for the day. She would get dressed, then gather the strands of hair she'd managed to obtain and make her way over to the wizarding shopping district—Diagon Alley!—hoping that she'd be able to get in without an adult witch or wizard with her. Briefly, she considered going over to Wools to fetch Tom, then decided she wanted to attempt it on her own before asking for help from others.
Smiling, she nodded, then finished off her tea and stood up. "I can do this," she said as she headed back to her room to get ready.
It didn't take Buffy long to make the short journey from the house to the Leaky Cauldron. For a moment she stood on the curb and stared up at the sign outside, then looked around. There were people bustling around out on the street—Muggles, she had to remind herself—without paying any mind to the wizarding pub that sat invisibly smack-dab in the middle of their businesses.
Laughing to herself, Buffy pushed open the door and went inside. The lighting was low—the same as it had been the first time she was there—but her eyes adjusted quickly, allowing her to look about. As before, it was rather busy and her appearance caused several people to turn and stare. She recognized a few of them—as well as the man behind the bar counter. No one, however, said anything to her, so she squared her shoulders and, trying to make it look like she belonged there, she made her way through the crowded room and to the back door.
In the back alley, she pulled out one of the secondhand wands she'd been given—the one that had deemed her worth enough to listen to her most of the time—and looked up at the brick wall. Frowning, she tried to remember what she'd seen Professor Dumbledore do. After tapping several times—in several different patterns—she huffed and glared at the still solid wall. Clearly she was getting it all wrong!
Then she heard a derisive snort behind her and turned to find the pompous blond boy who was in the same House as Tom.
"Having difficulties, Summers?" he asked.
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Um. Hey, Abacus," she greeted.
The blond narrowed his eyes right back. "It's Abraxas," he corrected testily.
Buffy shrugged. "Whatever."
The blond glared at her. "And it's considered rude to use someone's given name without their express permission to do so, which...has not been granted."
Buffy waved a hand dismissively. "Pfft! We are not so ridiculously formal in the good old U.S. of A," she said—in 1997, she added silently, wondering about formalities in the UK in her time. "But...um...if you'd prefer to be extra...overly...I'll comply. It's... Mallard, right?"
She kept a straight face, but inwardly she was busting up something fierce as she watched him struggle to remain composed—to be honest, the boy appeared to be close to having an apoplectic fit. Buffy held out for a mere five seconds before exploding into giggles.
"What do you find so funny, Summers?" the platinum-haired boy asked with obvious frustration.
It took Buffy nearly a minute to collect her wits and look the boy in the eyes. "Sorry."
Abraxas frowned. "Why do I get the feeling you're mocking me?"
"So. Um. Can you help me out here, Atticus?" she asked, biting her lip to hide her mirth—he just stared at her. "That's a no, huh? Gawd, y'all are so touchy here." She snickered.
The boy glared at her. "I have a mind you leave you here trying to enter Diagon, but instead just standing in a smelly back alley filled with rubbish," he threatened—causing Buffy to pout.
Sighing, Abraxas Malfoy pulled out his wand and stepped forward, tapping the bricks in the proper sequence. "Did you get that, Summers."
Buffy nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. Three up...two across," she said as she watched the bricks part. Without waiting for the boy, Buffy marched on through, calling out a farewell as she went. "See you at Hogwarts, McFoil."
Abraxas watched for a moment as the strange American girl traipsed into Diagon Alley. She was clearly dismissing him—but he was not going to have that, so he quickly followed with a shish of his robes.
"Summers, you really shouldn't be here on your own," he said as he caught up with her.
Groaning audibly, Buffy halted and looked at the boy. "And...why is that?" she asked, annoyed that he couldn't take a hint.
Abraxas frowned. "Well...because...it isn't safe," he said—then waved his hand at her person. "And you're just—"
"Just what?" Buffy prompted, cutting him off. She was already furious. Was he really going to say, just a girl?
The blond boy could see she was near hysteria—girls tended to get that way when you questioned their abilities—and didn't respond verbally. Instead he only smirked.
Buffy scoffed. "I assure you, I'm in no need of protection, Mallory! Least of all from you! In fact, if you knew anything about me, you'd know that I'm quite capable. So capable that I could better defend you than the other way around."
His eyes flashing silver in the midday sun, Abraxas gnashed his teeth. Was she actually implying that he was weak? he wondered irritably. How dare she! Then his thoughts jumped back to what she'd called him. Was she a complete dolt and truly couldn't remember his name or was she doing it purposely to annoy him? If the latter was the case, then he'd put an end to such silly nonsense. It just wouldn't do to have her constantly making him look foolish for her own amusement. However, if it was the former, then she really shouldn't be left to her own devices.
"Come now, I'll escort you, Miss Summers," he said as he reached to take her arm—preferring to think her dimwitted.
"Um. Thanks, but no!" Buffy said sternly as she stepped backward and eyed his still outstretched hand. "I'm fine, thank you very much."
Abraxas huffed. He'd never had so much trouble attempting to help a lady. But then, this strange American girl wasn't really much of a lady, was she? And she was dressed very oddly too. Again, he noted.
"You shouldn't walk around dressed like that," he commented, his eyes on her much too short skirt. She was showing entirely too much skin. "Where are your robes?"
Buffy shrugged. "I didn't think to bring them," she admitted.
He hmm'd at her words, which confirmed that she was definitely not the brightest witch of their age.
"I'm just here to visit the Ollivanders," Buffy continued. "They...had some trouble with...well, their wands didn't seem to like me." She pouted a bit. "They suggested I bring in something magical...so they could craft one especially for me." She frowned. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this."
Abraxas nodded. "That is the old way, but sometimes that's what's needed," he said—then frowned, looking down at her hand. "But you already have a wand."
"Oh! This old thing?!" said Buffy, lifting the hand that was holding the wand and sort of waving it around—causing some multicolored sparks to crackle off the end of it. "Sophie got it for me to use in a pinch. For practice, you know? Until I get my own. But...it's totally secondhand and only obeys me about half the time...if I'm lucky."
The boy eyed the girl's sparkling wand tip warily. It began to cease its crackling and most of the colors had died down, but there was still a green glow coming off the end. A glow that looked rather like the Death Curse color—not that he'd actually seen that Unforgivable used.
"I see. Perhaps you could put that thing away now that you're in Diagon," he suggested. "Before you take someone's head off."
Buffy looked at her wand, then shrugged and shoved it unceremoniously into the huge bag she was carrying. "Yeah, maybe you're right."
Abraxas watched her stow her wand, sighing silently when it was safely out of sight—and wondering about the clunking he heard coming from her bag. But when he looked up at her face and noticed that her eyes seemed to be just as intensely green as the tip of her wand had been, he stared for a moment, then cleared his throat.
"Er. Won't you please allow me to accompany you to Ollivanders?" he tried again, this time asking, because clearly she did not like being told what to do.
Buffy's eyes narrowed into slits. Did he really think she was that dumb? That she couldn't see through his change of wording? She considered telling him to take a hike—then shrugged and said, "Yeah. Okay. Why not? But you have to wait outside Ollivanders. I...um...a girl needs her privacy, you know? And then you can buy me a drink. What's that way too sweet, but totally tasty drink you guys have here?"
Abraxas blinked. "A butterbeer?"
Buffy pointed at him. "Yeah, that's the one," she said, giving him her most charming smile and all but fluttering her eyelashes.
Bowing slightly, Abraxas turned and held out a hand, as if to say, after you.
Buffy nodded and started down the street, with Abraxas Malfoy at her side.
When they arrived at Ollivanders, Abraxas opened the door for her to enter, but remained outside as she'd asked him to. He wasn't sure what sort of privacy a girl needed when discussing wands with a wandmaker, but he'd find out later. Maybe Riddle could enlighten him.
Abraxas also wanted to know where this girl came from! He knew she was an American—one could not fail to notice that part—but how did she come to be here and how did she know Tom Riddle?
Once Buffy was inside, with the door closed firmly behind her, she sighed her relief to be away from the snobby Slytherin boy. She wondered if all of them were like that, then shook her head, because Tom wasn't like that at all.
"Miss Summers! You have returned," Garrick Ollivander said, startling Buffy out of her musings.
Smiling at the man, she nodded and stepped forward, setting her bag down on the counter between them. "Yep!"
The man smiled back at her, then glanced at her bag. It was quite large. "What have you brought me today?"
"Well..." Buffy started. "I don't have much in the way of belongings, but...I brought what I do have."
With that, she upended her bag and dumped the contents onto the counter. There was her prom dress and pumps, her mother's earrings, her black leather jacket, and the crossbow and a pack of thick bolts she'd arrived with, the stakes she'd whittled for herself while being at Vin and Sophie's house, the four secondhand wands that the sisters had purchased for her, and a small flat paper bag that appeared to be empty.
For a moment, the wandmaker looked the pile over without touching anything, then he looked at the girl. "May I?"
Buffy nodded. "Of course," she said. "That's why I've brought it all here."
Reaching out, Garrick Ollivander picked up one of the wands and studied it, then placed it on the counter and picked up another. Doing the same to each one, he frowned. "These are very old. Where did you get them?"
"My aunts found them in one of the secondhand stores," Buffy told him. "I've been using them to try to get caught up, but..."
The man nodded. "Someone else's wand never quite works as well as one's own. Tell me, which one works best for you?"
"Well, mostly this one," she said as she picked up a golden-toned wand. "But I was thinking that it might be because it isn't as old as the others."
Smiling, Ollivander shook his head. "This is the oldest of the four, Miss Summers. Pear wands are... among the most resilient. I have often observed that they may still present a remarkable appearance of newness, even after many years of hard use. "
Buffy looked at the wand in her hand. It always felt warm to the touch, though not quite how Tom's wand felt. "They all seem to work...but for different things," she said putting the pear wand down and picking up another. "For instance, this one sort of knows what I want without me actually saying."
"Interesting," Ollivander said with a smile. "That one is made from Alder wood and best suited to non-verbal spell work. I'm surprised anyone so new to magic is able to perform with this."
Buffy shrugged. "I'm a quick study, I guess."
"It seems so," Ollivander said—then gestured at a warm-colored wand. "And this one?"
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "That one likes me the least," she said.
Garrick chuckled. "Larch is attractive and powerful, but can also be a bit...tricky."
Buffy huffed. "I'll say."
Next, the man pointed at a jet-black wand. "What about this one?"
Buffy smiled. "Oh. This one is most agreeable when I use it for Transfiguration."
Ollivander grinned and clapped his hands together. "Very good, Miss Summers. You are well on your way to discovering the intricacies of wands. Not many people have the opportunity to use a wand that has not chosen them first," he said.
Buffy frowned. "Why is that? Maybe everyone should take home a few samples, to see what suits them, before the final choosing occurs."
Ollivander shook his head. "That's not the way it is done. Usually, a wand chooses and that is the end," he said, his eyes going to the other objects the slayer had dumped on the counter. "That's a nice crossbow."
Buffy shrugged. "I prefer stakes. They're lighter and much more storable. Like, in a coat, but..." She shrugged. "Oh! And I have a better record with a stake."
The man nodded. "That makes sense," he said—then looked at her preferred weapons. They were all made of Ash. "Why Ash?"
"Hmm. Well, there are a few woods that are best...more powerful than others...but these were chosen for convenience sake," she admitted, looking sheepish. "I just picked up some fallen branches in Soho and...voila!"
"So they are freshly made?"
Buffy nodded. "Yes, I was making them before I got my school books and started studying," she said. "I like to have a fresh supply."
He nodded. "Understandable."
"Because sometimes they break or, you know, go poof if I don't work fast enough or have a poor grip," she said.
"Go poof?" he questioned.
"Yeah, you have to be quick with the slaying or you lose your stake," she explained. "Though, most of the time, all I have to do is just hang on super tight and it doesn't go all dusty."
Ollivander stared at her. "Fascinating. How often do you find yourself slaying?"
Buffy shrugged. "Hmm. That depends on activity. Like, whether or not we know they're out there. Sometimes every night. Last night I went out with Vin and Sophie's sister, Edna. She's a Watcher. We went to Highgate Cemetery, which is what brings me here today," she said, her hand resting on the paper bag. "I managed to take some hair from the vampires before I staked them." She grinned, then opened the bag and pulled out several hairs. Quickly, she separated them.
"These belong to the ones I staked," she said as she pushed a tangle of multicolored hairs to one side. "And these were willingly given by another in exchange for being allowed to leave undusted. Edna was not pleased."
Ollivander grinned. "I'd imagine not if she's a Watcher. My grandfather lent me a few books on the mythical slayer of vampires. I've been studying as well."
"I'm not a myth," the Slayer said.
"Obviously," he wandmaker agreed.
Buffy nodded at the strands of very dark hair. "This vampire was extremely peculiar. I sensed he was different, but...I've yet to discover how."
"Can you not figure it out, Miss Summers?" he asked, watching the blonde girl frown as she considered his words. It was immediately obvious when she'd put the pieces together.
"Oh my God! I am so lame!" she burst as she slapped her own forehead, her bangs separating almost violently as she then pointed at the dark hairs again. "He was a vampire from the wizarding world!"
Ollivander nodded. "I believe so, yes."
"Which is why he didn't... couldn't show me his bumpies when I told him to," she said, making a circular gesture at her own face. "I don't suppose you know what I'm talking about?"
"I do, actually," Ollivander said. "There are drawings of them in one of the books my grandfather loaned me."
"I feel incredibly dumb," Buffy said with a shake of her head.
"You're not lacking intelligence, Miss Summers. It's just this is all new to you. It will take some time to navigate though all you must learn. You have all the information you need in your school books. Study them."
Buffy nodded. "I will," she said, running a hand through her hair and sighing heavily. "Now, I just need a wand."
Garrick Ollivander nodded, then tapped the vampire hairs on the counter. "Leave these here with me and I'll see what I can do. They may be just the thing we need. We shall see."
Sighing again, Buffy gathered up her other things and stuffed everything back in her bag, then tossed it over her shoulder—stopping to free her hair from the strap when it became entangled—and headed for the door. At the door she turned and thanked the man, then quickly left his shop.
Outside, she saw Abraxas Malfoy waiting for her—she'd almost forgotten that he'd practically forced her to take him along. He looked both extremely bored to be there and incredibly curious about her hunt for a wand. She wasn't going to tell him anything, she decided. He could just keep on wondering.