A/N: Thanks heaps to all who took the time to R/R – comments and criticism are much appreciated. Some things may be cleared up in this chapter – others will remain a mystery until I'm good and ready to reveal.
I realize that Season 5 in the Buffyverse has Buffy at around 20ish, but for the purpose of this fic, let's just imagine that she's a little younger. 17, to be exact. More on why later in the fic.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them for awhile, and will return (with receipt) when I'm done. Don't sue.
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Chapter 2: When the Smoke Clears
Hogwarts ( 1 week later)
" Potter, what exactly do you think you are doing? The infusion of wormwood is added after the porcupine quills, which you would have known had you bothered to correctly read the instructions. Another zero, Potter."
Harry sighed wearily, gritting his teeth as Professor Snape once again found a reason to deduct points from Gryffindor. Truth was, he had been unable to concentrate in any of his classes for almost a week, knowing that in the hospital wing lay a defenseless girl who without even opening her eyes had wormed her way into his heart.
At Dumbledore's request, her presence had remained a secret from everyone bar himself, Harry, Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Snape. The latter had appeared in the hospital wing in the midst of Harry's explanation to Dumbledore, bearing freshly-made potions for Madame Pomfrey. Seeing the strange girl lying silent and pale in the bed, Snape had immediately looked to the Headmaster for an explanation. Soon after, Harry had been sent back to the Gryffindor common room and thus had not been present for said explanation.
Harry wasn't sure exactly what Dumbledore had told the Potions Professor, but since that night Snape had become even more cantankerous and seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting Harry. Neville Longbottom had not incurred the wrath of Snape for days, for which he was both puzzled and grateful. The Slytherins, Malfoy in particular, were taking great delight in asking Snape questions, knowing that he would call on Harry to answer.
Hermione's frantically waving hand had been ignored outright, Snape not even bothering to snap at her for being 'an insufferable know-it-all'.
Altogether, it was a mystery to Ron and Hermione, who were used to sharing everything with Harry. The pair had prodded Harry many a time for an explanation, only to receive a brush off. Noticing that Harry seemed to disappear once classes were over for the day, Ron had convinced Hermione to follow him, citing many far-fetched examples as proof their friend was in some kind of trouble.
"What if he's looking for trouble in the Forbidden Forest? Or sneaking to Hogsmeade to meet Sirius in secret? What if he's under the Imperius curse, and is being summoned to the Slytherin common-room to plot evil with, say, Malfoy? Or he's….dressing up in women's robes and doing the hacienda!" Ron whispered to Hermione as they hurried through dark corridors behind Harry, ducking behind suits of armor to avoid being seen.
Hermione sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes. " Do shut up Ron. And, by the way, it's the Macarena. But thank you for the mental image. Look – he's going through that painting – the werewolf. How odd. I swear I've seen it somewhere before…."
Ron approached the painting carefully, eyes on the snarling werewolf. Its sharp, golden eyes locked onto his, and it growled fiercely. Hermione paled.
"Err – may we enter please? See, our friend is in there and, well…" Ron leapt back as the werewolf rose and began to strain at the rope confining it to the painting, teeth bared. Hermione pulled her wand from her robes and tapped the frame twice, muttering something Ron couldn't make out.
Suddenly, as if signaled, the painting swung open slowly. The pair found a dimly lit staircase before them. Glancing uncertainly at Hermione, Ron stepped inside and they began to make their way up the stone stairs cautiously.
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In a small, cozy room at the top of a high tower, a fire burned brightly. In order to preserve silence, no paintings lined the walls. The spaces that remained behind were bright squares of whole pattern that time and dust had not yet touched. Squashy, overstuffed armchairs rested by the fire, alive in the flickering light. Heavy, rosy velvet drapes at the windows obscured any evidence from the world outside that the room was occupied.
Said occupants were limited to two – a sleeping girl and the Boy Who Lived.
With his back to the ornate tapestry that served as a door, Harry sat close to the comfortable bed, examining the figure dwarfed among its covers. Bruises and cuts had healed in record time, leaving her face smooth and un-marred. And a lovely face it was too, though still a little pale and thin.
Harry peered closely at her, noting the long eyelashes concealing eyes he had never seen, the smooth honey complexion, slightly upturned nose and full rosy lips that were slightly parted, moving gently with each intake of breath.
'Who are you? Where did you come from?' Harry asked out loud, voice echoing in the silent room. He wondered if somewhere there was a worried family searching for her, and something clutched at his heart.
Having almost no family himself, other than the Dursleys; who were little more than hated relations he endured when he was forced to leave Hogwarts; and his godfather Sirius, who was away more than he was home (having been cleared of his crimes, he was now under the employment of the Ministry of Magic, and often required to apparate to the other side of the world at a moments notice), Harry sometimes wished he had someone who would miss him as a family should.
He was interrupted from his musings by a sudden draught behind him. Turning abruptly, he was somewhat surprised to see Ron staring past him to the figure in the bed, Hermione close behind.
"Well. I'm fairly sure that's not Malfoy…" Ron muttered quietly, amazed. Harry couldn't help but notice that both his friends were covered in dust, presumably from the climb. Hermione noticed him staring and quickly shook her hair, a cloud of dust rising and escaping from the room on the tail end of the breeze. She grinned sheepishly, her face black with grime.
" We uh….Ron was attacked by a big bad vanishing step. He caught me on the way down – not exactly fun." Hermione explained, using few words for once. Ron blushed, a startling contrast with his fiery hair, extracted his wand, and within a second had them both sparkling clean. Harry noted the pink in Hermione's cheeks and wondered who had landed on the bottom first. It was about time those two woke up to themselves…or each other.
Now clean, Hermione looked closely at the sleeping girl, and her mouth opened in surprise. " Who on earth is that? Is this where you've been disappearing to? What if someone finds out you've been hiding strange girls in the Astronomy tower? You'll be expelled for sure!"
Ron snorted at the thought of Harry being expelled after all these years of rule-breaking, but silently was as curious as Hermione. He looked expectantly at Harry, and as he did, a soft moan from the bed caught their attention.
It appeared from the fluttering of her long eyelashes that Harry's mystery girl was waking up.
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Flickering light appears behind my eyelids. Did I fall asleep?
Everything aches, and not in a good way. I feel as though I've run a marathon. Do I run marathons? Maybe I've just run a marathon – and when I open my eyes I'll be at home in…..where? Do I even have a home?
I hear soft voices from somewhere above me. A slightly nervous male voice "I think she's waking up. Do you think she's dangerous? Maybe we should get Dumbledore." I don't know anyone called – was it Rumblewhore? What an odd name.
" Perhaps she can tell us who she is." A different voice, a female this time. How many people are there in here? More importantly, where IS here?
My eyelids are still heavy, but somehow I force them open slowly, coming face to face with a pair of startling emerald eyes. They are soft eyes, kind and gentle. A friend maybe? I don't recognize the face.
I clear my throat, wincing. A glass of water floats (floats??) toward me and yet another voice encourages me to drink. Emerald Eyes again, catching pillows that float to him and helping me sit up. Once more with the floating. What is this place where people lack the energy to just pick something up?
The water is cool and tastes of lemon and sugar, as well as another ingredient I can't actually name. How is it that I remember what lemon tastes like, but not how I ended up here?
I clear my throat, and try again. " Actually…I was hoping you could tell me who I am. Where I am. Anything at all really." To my horror, my eyes fill with tears. They come out slowly at first, as if I am unused to crying. Soon I am trying to breathe through great, heaving gasps that leave me shaking. What an impression to make on these people. Granted, said people appear to be wearing dresses.
They're not white, and I can't see any harps or clouds or anything, so I guess I'm not in Heaven. Though I'm not sure why I would think that in the first place.
Emerald Eyes approaches cautiously as I try in vain to control my sobs, and suddenly he's hugging me. It's such a surprise that I choke on a half-sob. I pull back from his warm arms, somewhat comforted although my questions are still unanswered.
He speaks: a warm, friendly voice. " I'm Harry. Harry Potter." As he says his name he looks closely at me, as if waiting for some reaction. Mild surprise shows in his eyes when I stare blankly at him.
"Hi Harry. I'm – I don't know who I am. And I think I made a mess on your dress. Sorry 'bout that." I apologize sheepishly, blushing
Shrugging, Harry brushes his wild chocolate hair from his forehead, revealing for a split second a strange lightning scar. He studies me as the other two come forward.
" I'm Ron. This is 'Mione. You're American?" A boy with a shock of red hair speaks gently, as though he's afraid I'll shatter. Something about his hair sends a prickle up my spine. I nod – somehow I know this is true, just as I can recognize an English accent in their voices.
"HER-Mione," she corrects with a reproving glance at Ron. She's smiling at me uncertainly, still trying to determine whether I'm friend or foe. " Do you remember anything at all?" she asks.
I frown, thinking. " I – I don't know. I don't know where I am. Or how I got here. I don't even know my name. A big tick in the non-helpful column." I try to joke but feel tears welling up again. I grit my teeth and bow my head as Hermione places a warm hand on mine. A sob escapes before I can stop it. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not…
Her hand squeezes mine reassuringly. I look up to see her biting her lip, her face distressed at my tears. " Please don't be upset – I'm sorry… I didn't mean to push. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore can help you." Her words are slightly awkward, as if she's not used to comforting teary strangers. Ron and Harry are close behind her, looking equally uncertain – though not afraid as I expected.
At the mention of the unfamiliar name, Ron's eyes light up. "Yeah, Dumbledore knows pretty much everything. It's sort of creepy. Maybe he knows a charm or potion to help you. We could see him before dinner, Harry."
I blink, confused. "A what?" Did he just say charm?
Hermione jumps in quickly, shaking her head slightly at Ron. "There isn't a magical solution for everything, Ron. Some things have to be done the Muggle way." She turns to Harry. "Dumbledore does know about this, right?" He nods.
I'm still stuck on two words beginning with 'm'. Magic. Muggle. The first, I can sort of grasp – can't imagine why it would come up in normal conversation though. My eyes drift again to Harry's forehead, and I get the feeling that these three are not exactly 'normal people'. The second 'm' word, however…
"What's a Muggle? A really bizarre experiment breeding Muppets and the Wiggles?"
Hermione's gaze flickers almost imperceptibly toward Harry, as if she's looking for his nod of approval. It's Ron that speaks.
"S'what we call non-magic people." He grins at me. "What's a Muppet?"
"Ron!" Hermione is trying hard to look annoyed, but I don't think she is, really. Watching the two of them bicker in the background gives me déjà vu. Harry grins at them, then at me.
" So, um… Any chance of seeing this Bumbly guy?" The smile dims and I hurry to smooth things over. "Not that you're boring or anything, it's just…"
"You want to find out who you are." I must have looked startled, because his grin returns. " I get that."
There's something else I want to ask. "Could you… when I'm talking to him, could you be here? Familiar face and all that. If you don't have something else to do – what is this place anyway?"
Harry shrugs off his black dress-looking thing, revealing something grey and white that looks awfully like a school uniform – right down to the tie and the little badge on his chest. I bet if I looked over the edge of the bed… yep, black, clunky school shoes that look as though they've been well and truly worn in.
"Hasn't anyone told you what happened? Dumbledore, or McGonagall… Snape even?" Is he stalling?
"Hasn't anyone taught you not to answer a question with a question?" It's not meant to be a criticism, but I'm tired of the shifty looks and avoid-y tactics. " If someone did come see me and explain everything that's happened, I would've missed it anyway – sleeping kinda does that." I really, really want to roll my eyes at him, but I don't. The absence of bickering tells me Ron and Hermione are listening in. Alright… enough of this.
"Okay, I s'pose I'll have to do my own guessing. If this is all some kind of secret, you can always just wipe my memory later." What a wonderful choice of words. " So, here's the sitch. If I guess right, you ask this all-knowing guy to come see me. If I guess wrong... um, I dunno. Haven't really thought this through." The three friends grin.
"Anyway, here goes. I'm at some kind of school in England. It's either a boarding school or one that has classes way late at night, considering you're all still here, in your uniforms when it's almost sunset. Plus, Ron mentioned something about dinner. You're all working really hard at hiding a big secret from me which has something to do with charms and potions, magic, and Professors with uber-weird names. How'm I doing so far?" Three pairs of eyes stare at me speechlessly.
"I would say, my dear, that you don't miss a trick." Okaay… there's someone who looks like a Wizard of Oz cast-off standing in the doorway. We're talking the full, multi-coloured-pointy-hat-and-cape deal. And he's grinning like all his Christmases have come at once.
" Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," I mutter under my breath. His grin now looks like it's about to split his face in two.
" I don't advise clicking your heels, my dear. Never know where you might end up." He pauses, eyes dancing with merriment. So this must be…
"Albus Dumbledore – pleased to meet you. You were wanting answers?" I nod. He looks at Harry and his friends. " Please go directly to my office – all of you – and wait for me there. I will ask Dobby to have some dinner sent up for you." They turn to go without protesting. As Harry is pushing aside the tapestry that hides the door, I turn to Dumbledore.
"Can they stay – please? I want them to be here. Plus, then you only have to explain things once." Ron looks hopefully at Dumbledore. His eyes fix on mine for a minute, and whatever he sees seems to please him.
" Very well. They will be allowed to remain on the condition that they do not interrupt." He draws a pointed stick from his robes and four chairs screech to a halt beside my bed. Harry, Ron and Dumbledore sit quickly; Hermione choosing instead to perch on the bed beside me in support.
"I won't take up too much of your time. You were quite correct in your assumptions about this being a school, although understandably vague about its purpose. My dear…" He pauses thoughtfully. "Before I begin, may I suggest you choose a name? I can hardly call you 'my dear' for the remainder of your stay."
My face falls. "You don't know my name?" I think I was expecting him to hand me my memories on some kind of platter.
"Alas, one cannot presume to know everything. Not to worry – your memory may return in time. For the present…" I guess there's some kind of logic to this, but I can't think of a name to save my life. The Trio are all too happy to jump in with suggestions.
"I've a cousin called Mathilde who looks a bit like you…" Ron.
"Something easy to remember. Jane? Anne? Betty?" Hermione.
From the chair, Harry suggests softly " Lily?" The other three look at him silently. His eyes soften as he explains. "It was my mum's name." I don't ask about his choice of words, but instead test it out in my head. Lily. It's a pretty name, vaguely familiar. My decision is made. "I think… until I remember, that is, that I'll be Lily. Lily, um… " My eyes search the room, alighting on a small plaque fixed to the wall below an empty picture frame. " Asher."
Harry smiles. Dumbledore nods his agreement. " How fitting. Hebzibah Asher is renowned for his adaptation of Memory Charms. Very well… Miss Asher. Shall we begin?"
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Sunnydale
Willow sighed as she stacked books. Three weeks had passed. Almost one whole month of learning to live without the Chosen One, but more importantly, without a friend and sister. Each of the Scoobs had begun the slow process of healing in their own way. It remained difficult to watch the town carry on in oblivion, not knowing that they had lost their sworn protector.
For the most part, things were much the same. They walked. They talked. They shopped ( rarely, and then only for essentials). They sneezed. All the while knowing that Buffy had given up these privileges so that the rest of the world could have them.
At present, a majority of the Scoobies were seated around their old meeting table in the Magic Box. Dawn, having returned to school a week earlier, was in English class, straining to keep her mind from wandering.
Despite Giles' efforts to contact Hank Summers, the man remained untraceable; Social Services had relinquished custody to Giles until he could be found. They had insisted, however, that Dawn have regular counseling sessions, as well as returning to school. With only one week remaining before the holidays began, Dawn had decided that it was a lesser evil than being sent to a foster home.
Since 'that night', as it was referred to by all, Spike had left his crypt only to patrol, and occasionally to check on the 'Lil Bit. Willow kept the Summers' fridge stocked with blood, but Spike never entered the house, preferring instead to wait on the porch for Dawn to emerge.
The Scoobs, previously only tolerant of Spike because of Buffy, now recognized his genuine concern for Dawn, and left him alone. He -
"Willow! Stop daydreaming! I'm not paying you to lounge, I'm paying you to organize!"
Anya's voice interrupted Willow's thoughts. Standing quickly, swiping at her eyes, Willow resumed her task of alphabetizing the bookshelves, boring work at the best of times. The bell on the door tinkled, and Xander entered, slightly grimy from a day's work supervising a new building site. Anya hurried to him, raising her face for a kiss. Xander dutifully obliged.
Anya frowned. " You smell all paint-y! Go shower!" she stated abruptly, then smiled naughtily. " I could join you if you like. We could have sex! You could do that thing with the loofah!"
Xander spluttered, casting a glance toward Willow, whose ears had turned pink. He allowed Anya to lead him through the curtain and into what once was Buffy's training room. Catching sight of the dusty punching bag, his expression turned solemn.
"Not now, An. Maybe later? In the privacy of our own apartment?" He flicked his head toward the shop. "Minus an audience?"
Anya pouted. Her hands moved to her shirt as if to unbutton it, then pulled a thin gold chain from under it, on which hung a ring. Xander sighed, moving toward the shower.
"You said I could show off my ring after….that night! It's been almost a month! I want everyone to make with the oohs and aahs! And presents! And a night out with the girls and some oiled male strippers! How much longer?"
Not turning, Xander spoke through gritted teeth. " When everyone is ready, Anya. When things settle down a little. When…"
Anya cut him off. " You mean when YOU'RE ready. What about me? I'm ready now! I know you miss Buffy," Xander flinched. Anya continued, " But you have to move on. Just like Joyce, she isn't coming back, and you're all sad, and this time I understand why."
Anya paused and swiped away sudden tears. "She was my friend too! I miss her too, Xander. But she's not coming back this time. She's NEVER coming back!!"
Xander didn't bother to hold back his tears as Anya broke into gasping sobs. Turning to her, he held her as she choked out " I miss her too, Xander. I loved her too!"
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Hogwarts
"So, to recap – I'm at Hogwarts, where you guys," this was directed at Harry, Ron and Hermione, "learn how to do real magic with wands and stuff. Harry found me on the Hogwarts grounds after I did a spectacular nose dive from a crackly ball of energy – minus parachute. Now I'm stuck here in this room until I'm no longer Forget-o-Girl."
Hermione was quick to jump in. "We'll come visit you whenever we can, Lily, I promise." Ron wasn't far behind, glancing at Dumbledore before he spoke. " Fred and George – my brothers – sent me… some new books. We can, uh, read them together." Harry smirked, knowing full well that the Weasley twins were just as likely to send a book that would make you invisible or give you massive purple warts than to send one you could read. He doubted Dumbledore had been fooled.
Lily reached across the bed for the glass of water and sighed when her hand fell short. Before anyone had the chance to hand it to her, Lily said - "Don't you just wish you could make things fly sometimes?"
Harry ducked in fright as the glass promptly launched itself from the table and hurtled across the room to smash against the wall behind his head. He turned to Ron, water dripping down the back of his neck. " How very Fred-or-George of you, Ron." His friend looked back at him wide-eyed, then turned his gaze to Lily.
"What… how… what…"
Dumbledore appraised the small blonde girl calmly. "Three excellent questions, Mister Weasley. Lily, perhaps your trip through the portal has imbued you with certain new abilities – or perhaps the abilities were yours all along. Whatever the case, I believe I may have a solution to you being 'stuck in this room', as you call it…"
Had the walls been made of something other than stone, the castle would have been filled with the joy of the four teenagers as Dumbledore made his intentions clear.
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A/N: So, to clarify – 'Lily' is Buffy. Buffy is 'Lily'. And I'm having flashbacks to Spike's 'Ben is Glory' speech. For those of you who are reading this post-revamp, the changes from now on will be obvious. I've just swapped their names. For the record, I can't be bothered writing Lily in inverted commas every single time. You'll live. : )
"So, you're saying that Buffy and Lily are connected somehow…" Uh huh.
As for my reasons (someone has already asked and this has been posted less than an hour)… first and foremost, whether Slayer legend is known in the wizard world or not, surely someone with the smarts (say, Hermione) could connect the tales of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with Buffy the Hogwarts student. That would be pesky.
Second, I've scrapped the whole Hermione-uses-a-charm-to-identify-Buffy idea on the advice of my wonderful temporary beta, CinnamonGrrl. Much more interesting to have them all wonder. Ah, maybe I'm just evil.
