Hermione's chin hovered inches above Willow's shoulder. The blue glow from the screen reflected on them both.
"I can't believe you made it work."
"So very much not me, Hermione, and so very much the Albus Dumbledore blue-plate spell-shielding special. I don't know how he did it, but it worked. I don't even need the battery anymore."
"Professor Dumbledore? That explains it. He knows more about the magic around Hogwarts than anyone." She watched Willow's fingers dance nimbly over the keys. "How'd you get so fast?"
"Lots of practice. I was a big nerd when I was younger, y'know? It leaves a lot of time for things like C-plus-plus and other obscure computer stuff."
"I rather missed the technology revolution myself," said Hermione as she returned to her seat. She snatched a book from the top of the pile and thumbed through the index. "By the time it sprang up, I was learning how to wave a wand."
"Your parents didn't start you earlier than that?"
"Actually, they couldn't. Underage Wizardry's quite illegal, you know. Besides, they're not wizards. Dentists, both of them."
Willow glanced up. "Dentists?"
"Dentists."
"Wow. Funky."
"They were a little surprised."
"At least they didn't light you on fire."
That brought Hermione's head up from the book. "Pardon?"
"My parents weren't thrilled that I was, y'know, making with the mojo."
"And they …"
"Tried to burn me at the stake. My mom did, anyway."
"You seem remarkably calm about that."
"It was awhile ago, plus there was the whole influenced-by-the-evil-demon factor." She looked up from the screen. "It's kinda long to tell the whole thing. We worked it out."
"If you say so." Hermione left a skeptical eye on Willow for a few more seconds, then dropped her head back to the book.
Ten minutes later, the click-clack of Willow's typing stopped, replaced by the whir of her laptop working. Another half-minute, and that stopped too.
Hermione never heard the whirring stop. Willow's excited voice drowned it out.
"Oh-oh-oh I got it! I got it! Duh!"
"You translated it?"
Willow blinked. "Um, well … no. But the program works."
"How can you be sure it's right?"
She turned the laptop screen around. An image of the scanned scroll dominated the picture.
"See this?" Willow pointed to a small section of characters near the top as excitement crept into her voice. "It's a Semitic script. First I thought Akkadian, because of the loopy slashes, y'know, but then I did some 'net surfing and I found out what it was."
"It looked more like Hebrew to me."
"Exactly!" Willow shouted, waving her arms frantically. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that was a little loud, but-but, seriously, Hermione, listen. It IS Hebrew, a really old dialect. See this passage below it? That's Akkadian. It says the same thing. Then there's this passage below, one of the ones they couldn't translate, and then there's another one in Hebrew."
"Then another in Akkadian," Hermione said, leaning forward as she caught on.
"Then another they couldn't translate, then an intro in Hebrew, and about eighty feet of stuff in the language we don't know."
"It's got its own Rosetta stone."
"It IS its own Rosetta stone."
"How long to translate it, d'you think?"
"No way to know. Could be hours, could be days. I'll let the script run starting … now." Willow finished typing a command and hit enter.
"And now?"
Willow frowned. "The big wait."
"Perhaps if you had waited the requisite amount of time, Miss Summers, you would not be in your current predicament. Surely you are old enough to read a clock?"
Snape's sneer trickled into his voice. Dawn felt the embarrassment pulse behind her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying mightily not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset.
"I'm sorry, Professor," she squeezed out through clenched teeth. The mission. Think about the mission.
"Don't be sorry. Be correct in the first place. No sense trying to begin again this late, you've botched it too thoroughly for that. Clean up your things and be very careful washing your cauldron out. I don't fancy burn marks from that sludge on my classroom floor." He moved away to inspect the rest of the class.
"You're lucky he doesn't take points from his own house, Summers," whispered Gina Moncrief from the next chair over. "You'd've lost ten for sure."
Dawn nodded absently, straightening her things and tending to her still-smoking cauldron. Like the rest of the Slytherin seventh-years, Gina had been cautiously friendly towards Dawn. Their attitude surprised her. She hadn't thought the Slytherins would welcome her at all, at least not after what Harry and Ron had told her and what the first day had been like. After a little while, though, they seemed to lighten up. She figured it had to do with her being one of their own more than anything about her personally.
"I knew I should've waited, but I just got so bored." The last phrase slipped out in a mock English accent, which Gina met with a questioning look. Dawn shrugged. "Sorry. Channeling an old friend. Not that I'm not loving Potions, but what've we got next?"
"Nothing. It's Friday, remember? The weekend?" Gina flashed a smile and brushed her black hair off of her face. "I'll be glad to be done, that's for sure. We've got so much damn work. A'course, it's less than the last two years, but it's still a bunch."
"What do you guys do for fun on the weekends here?"
"Well…" Gina twirled a finger in her hair, as if pondering whether she should tell Dawn anything or not. She must have decided she should, because she continued, "a couple of us're heading for Hogsmeade tonight." She glanced around for Snape; seeing him preoccupied on the other end of the room, she went on, "I mean, we're not exactly s'posed to, if you get my drift, but we do anyway. D'you, that is, would you be up for it?"
"What are you going there to do?"
"Oh, you know, shopping, some firewhiskey at the Hog's Head, maybe meet some boys. It's gonna be loads o' fun. You should come." Gina leaned in and whispered, "People think you're different, you know? It might … it'll help you meet some people. Fit in a little. How 'bout it?"
Dawn thought hard for a few seconds. If she got caught, she could always say she was trying to spot the troublemakers, and the week had been stressful.
"I'm in. Where and when?"
Dawn was not impressed.
"Damn, Spike. I'm so glad you're not alive. You'd kill me for this."
None of the three Slytherin girls heard her muttering, which was just as well. The Hog's Head was Willy's with a goat smell and no jukebox. If Buffy ever found out her assignment had brought her here, the assignment wouldn't last much longer.
Most of the single room contained dark figures hunched over dark tables. None of them were shy about casting hungry eyes at Dawn and the girls with her. Neither were the four Slytherin boys who had pulled tables together in the far corner of the room. They were louder than the rest of the room by far, several rounds of drinks adding spring to their step and volume to their voices. When the girls walked in, they hooted and hollered and waved for them to come closer.
"Ooh, there's Tim! Isn't he cute?" Gina whispered to Dawn, who scoped the boy in question and nodded. He had a Tom Welling look to him, with sandy blonde hair instead of black. "He's a great git most of the time," she added with a sigh, "but I just can't help myself."
Abby Wayne and Samantha Drake, the other two girls with them, dashed across the floor and leapt into the waiting arms of their boyfriends, neither of whose names Dawn could remember. She also didn't know the name of the fourth guy, but he looked really familiar. He was tall and completely bald, with very dark skin and a gold hoop through his right eyebrow.
"Who's the other one?"
"That's Danny. He's actually a Ravenclaw, but he and Tim and Ryan," Gina motioned to a boy with long black hair in ponytail, who was greeting Sam with an intense lip lock, "they've been mates for years. He's American, so you should relate. Now, come on!"
Gina led her over, bypassing for the moment the snog-fest of the two couples.
"Hey, Tim," the dark-haired girl said shyly. She offered a coy smile. "You know Dawn, right?"
"Uh huh. How are ya, luv?"
"Doing alright, thanks." She turned to Danny and held out her hand. "Dawn Summers."
"Dan Gunn."
Dawn did a double take.
"Gunn? Two n's?"
His eyebrow ring rose, and he spoke in his deep, bass voice. "Uh huh. Why?"
"You have a cousin. In L.A. Does the monster-fighting thing for money, right?"
"Yeah. Charles. Why?"
"He works for a … guy named Angel. Angel used to … he knew my sister and me. I've met your cousin a few times, too."
"Really? Cool." He turned to Tim, Ryan, and the others. "Angel's a serious player, like my cousin."
"'Zat right?" Tim asked. "Your cousin's a solid bloke. You ladies want some drinks?"
They nodded. Dawn looked uncertain, but with Gina's prodding she joined them in a firewhiskey, which Tim and Gina went to fetch.
Dawn pulled up a chair next to Dan; everyone else sat down and promptly ignored them in favor of making out.
"So …" Dawn said awkwardly, "you're American, huh?"
The right side of his lip twitched upwards. If it had lasted longer, she would have called it a smile.
"Yeah. You too?"
"Oh, totally. I'm from California. What about you?"
"Brooklyn."
"Really? I've always wanted to go there, but I never have. Well, except for one time, but that was only for like six hours."
"It's alright. Hogwarts is a lot nicer."
"You're a seventh year, too?"
"Yeah."
"And Gina said you know these guys …" Dawn realized she was chattering away at ninety miles a minute and paused. "I'm sorry. I'm being Jeopardy girl, and it's way rude."
This time he gave her a genuine smile.
"It's cool. Ask away."
"Okay, but jump in if you want to talk."
"Don't worry 'bout him," Ryan said from down the table. "He's a tough bugger to shut up once he gets started. We're all better off this way."
Dan narrowed his eyes. "Don't make me put you down again, dude. Seriously."
"See what I mean, Dawn?"
They laughed, and Tim and Gina returned, setting drinks down in front of them. Dan's was tall and layered; the top half was a deep red and the bottom was clear and carbonated.
"What's that?" Dawn asked, peering at the drink and leaning out of the way so Gina and Tim could snuggle up together on the bench.
"Cherry syrup and soda."
"That sounds a lot less intimidating and manly than a firewhiskey."
"I don't need a drink to make me intimidating or manly," he said. His voice sounded serious, but his eyes had a sardonic cast.
"No, I guess you really don't, huh?"
"Try some. It's superb."
She leaned over and took a sip, watching Dan watch her as she did.
"Oh! That's so good." She looked at her own drink, then looked at him skeptically. "Want some of mine?"
"Uh uh. I'm DD'ing tonight, and besides, I don't drink firewhiskey. I'm a Dragon's Tear man."
"DD'ing? We don't have a car."
He shrugged. "Yeah, but if we get caught coming back through the passageway, you'll wish we did. DD'ing here means I keep us from getting caught. Tim was on last time, and …"
"An' you nearly got us all busted, you jackass! Jumpin' up an' down, singing My Gallant Crew at the top o' your bloody lungs with Filch and Mrs. Norris twenty yards away."
Dawn could tell that if he had lighter skin, Dan would have been blushing.
"Wasn't that loud," he said sheepishly. "Anyway, it's my turn this time."
She laughed along with everyone else, then took a sip of her firewhiskey. Not bad, she thought, downing the rest of the glass. Not bad at all.
Two hours later, she wasn't laughing, and Dan was wrestling another firewhiskey from her hand.
"Dawn, you've had enough, girl. Honest."
"Jus' one more," she slurred. Her eyes were reddened and half shut. The other Slytherins were in no better shape, but they had all finished their last round. The bartender, his gray hair lank and a look of concern rising above his beard, was watching the scene skeptically. "Y'know, you're really cute. Cute as your coushin, an' thass sayin' something."
"Thanks, but flattery won't work." He took the glass and set it down. "No more. We've got to get back."
"Surely yeh can stay a bit longer," a scratchy voice rasped, "an' maybe share yer young ladies wit' the rest of us."
Dan looked up. Four hooded figures, their dark cloaks drawn tight at the necks, had encircled their group. Gnarled hands poked from the sleeves of their robes; none of them had wands, but he could feel the menace emanating from them. Their circle screened them off from the rest of the room, and he couldn't see the elderly bartender making a short wand movement and whispering an incantation.
"Huh?" Dawn looked up and, seeing the four men, she spoke in a voice several octaves lower than her own. "Do you mind if we dance with your dates?" Then she started giggling uncontrollably and collapsed onto Dan's lap.
The other Slytherins had taken notice and were trying to sit up straighter. Unfortunately, they were so intoxicated that Dan knew they wouldn't be able to pronounce any spells, let alone swish and flick properly.
"Look, guys," he said, drawing his wand surreptitiously behind Dawn's body, "I really don't think you want to do that."
"Oh no? Why's that, boy?"
Even in her drunken stupor, Dawn could see the anger flare in Dan's eyes. He carefully lifted her onto the seat next to him, then got right in the leader's face.
"Who're you calling boy, bitch?" He grabbed the man's cloak and shoved him clear across the room, shattering an unsuspecting table that happened to be in the way. The man collapsed in a heap.
The other three slipped hands under their robes to draw wands; the Slytherins, drunk but not totally gone, leapt at their attackers. All six of them went down to the floor in a punching, kicking, biting mass. Dan jumped in for good measure, but the rest of the bar had seen enough and the other patrons hurried for the door, some without paying. That got the bartender yelling, and the mad rush turned the scene into total chaos.
Dawn saw the fracas erupt and, figuring in her drink-addled mind that they were her responsibility, jumped in as well, swinging blindly at the pile. She connected with a cheekbone hard, then took a backhanded punch from someone in the heap. She went sprawling, landing hard on the floor and folding up into a dazed ball.
The sounds of the fight filled the small room, along with the bartender's frantic cries for them to stop. Dan yanked one of the cloaked men to his feet, slammed a right hook into his jaw, and let him drop back down again. He spun around, looking for the one he had thrown.
The creep was on his feet, hood off and wand out now, a scary scowl on his pockmarked face. He caught sight of Dawn on the floor and his dark eyes flashed. The wand came up …
"STUPEFY!" Dan roared, his own wand leveled at the man instantly. The creep whirled around, blocking the stunner but distracted from Dawn for the moment.
The man grinned, revealing crooked and missing teeth. Then he pointed his wand at Dan.
"SCINDO!"
A jet of silver light flew straight for Dan's chest; before he could move to dodge, an unseen force ripped him from the ground and tossed him out of its path. In his peripheral vision, he saw the creep turn and his eyes go wide.
Then he heard a loud bang, and everyone stopped.
"That, I think, will be quite enough of that," Albus Dumbledore said from the door.
*********************************
N.B.: My Gallant Crew is a song from Gilbert and Sullivan's opera H.M.S. Pinafore.