Author's Note: Yeah, okay. I've borrowed Wesley from Angel. For someone
who hasn't seen the show past where Angel became a daddy, my characterization on him is
slow (as Alpha kindly pointed out). We will find out why he's acting so young in this
chapter. There is a reason he's in this story... but you'll just have to read more to find
out more. That sort of deal. And I do promise longer chapters, once we combine things and
they flow better.
Disclaimer: The same as always, see Chapter 1.
Chapter 3
There's No Place Like...
- - - - -
In the main cabin, Willow and Xander sat, surrounded by a small group of Slayers. They were talking excitedly about what they would do once they got to England. Willow, who had been there not two years before, was especially aglow.
"I wonder what their Ministry is like," Kennedy was musing as she curled up at Willow's side.
"It's probably enchanted!" Willow pointed out. "Can you just see us in there, walking in for the first time?"
"That'd be great," another voice came from the doorway. They all turned as one to see Faith hovering, looking exhausted. "But it's the middle of the night, yo. Can't we just focus on today... later? I'd really like to get some rest before we put our asses on the line."
A moment of silence.
Finally, Xander spoke up. "I was just thinking that too," he said, watching as Buffy sank on to the seat next to him with a loud yawn. "After all, it's only a few hours before we all become proficient warlocks."
"Wizards," Willow corrected him quickly. "Well, you'll be at least. I will no longer be the only witch of the group."
"Slayers and witches," Vi said, a smile spreading across her face. "Sweet."
The Slayers rose quickly to return to their seats. Kennedy whispered something in Willow's ear before retreating to her own, leaving Willow, Xander and Buffy.
"Did you ever imagine for one second our lives would get this messed up?" Buffy asked softly, forcing her eyes to stay open.
"I never thought any of this was possible," said Willow in a hushed voice. "You know?"
Xander sighed slightly. "No matter what happens, at least we're in the same country."
"Yeah," Buffy yawned. "We will be."
"For God's sake," a voice snapped in front of them, "the world will be doomed unless you three be quiet and let the rest of us sleep."
"Sorry, Giles," they all breathed as one as they retreated to their seats.
Buffy wrapped herself tighter in the blanket, seeing a wide sea of darkness beneath the plane. Soon, very soon, she would find herself in England, farther away from where she ever wanted to go. The idea of sleep seemed to escape her as she eagerly waited for sunrise, a small thin line of the darkest shades of grey approaching the horizon.
He had arrived with nearly the same guard as before. There were two or three new faces in the crowd, and, of course, Sturgis Podmore wasn't present.
Lupin handed him a slip of paper with Professor Dumbledore's tiny print on it. At once, he memorized the words, and soon he found himself looking at a very different Grimmauld Place. The house actually looked better, with new shingles and windows and archways. Gone was the dilapidated house. With a bitter pang in his stomach, he climbed the stairs and stepped inside.
All at once, he felt an overwhelming wave of sadness as he stepped inside and looked at the halls. Just last year, he was walking in for the first time, looking around and seeing the house for what it truly was. What a difference a year made.
Mrs. Weasley was standing at the end of the hall. She let out a small cry when she saw him, throwing her arms around him in the way only a Mother could. He held onto her for a short moment, but when she turned away, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"Oh, Harry, thank goodness you made it. We were so worried!" Mrs Weasley said, taking him by the shoulders and holding him at arm's length. "Dinner will be ready in just a short bit... but first, I think we need to talk to you."
Harry couldn't muster the energy to argue with her. As Lupin and Tonks stepped aside with his luggage, tugging it up the stairs, Mrs. Weasley channeled him to the kitchen. Again, he noticed how unusually clean and tidy it was, and then realized that since Sirius had died, many more people must have been staying here.
"We've kept it as headquarters because that is what Sirius would have wanted," Mrs. Weasley said softly behind him. "Ron is upstairs... when he got your owl, he insisted that he send his back! And Hermione... she'll be here in the morning!" They entered the kitchen. "Harry's here!" she announced loudly.
There were only a few people in the kitchen. Mr. Weasley and Bill were seated at the dining room table, poring over parchment. Another witch Harry didn't recognize was poking a fire with her wand, a heavy cauldron set over it to cook whatever it was they were having for dinner. At the sight of him, Mr. Weasley rose and reached forward to shake Harry's hand, while Bill rose and grinned. "Good to see you, Harry."
A soft purr made Harry look down to see Crookshanks staring up at him with that squashed face and those unblinking cat eyes.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps in the distance.
"Ginny! Hurry! He's here!"
Ron burst into the kitchen to see Harry, still standing with Mrs. Weasley's hands on his shoulders, and grinned. Harry found himself grinning, a sense of relief coming over him. "Hey, Ron."
"Hi Harry," a female voice peeped through as Ginny stepped around Ron. Harry's eyebrows shot up with surprise. Ginny had grown quite taller this summer, and the change was more noticeable then ever.
Ron grinned and stepped between the two of them as Mrs. Weasley finally let go of Harry and went to help the witch cook whatever she was cooking.
"All of your stuff is in my room," Ron said, taking a seat at the table. Harry sat down on one side of him, Ginny sat across. "Hedwig's up there too. Mind you, she was quite excited when she brought me your scores. I think even Hermione will be impressed."
"So, how did you do?" Harry asked in a low voice. He knew that Fred and George, Ron's older twin brothers, had not done well on the O.W.L.'s because their aspirations had lead them elsewhere.
"Eight," said Ron with a sigh. "Not nearly as good as Percy or Bill," he continued, casting a look toward his elder brother, who had gotten up to get plates and cuttlery from the drawers. "But I think I did myself well for a Prefect." He suddenly turned to grin at Ginny. "And look who else might be making Prefect."
Ginny had the grace to blush. "I got the best marks of my class last term," she said quietly. "Besides, it's you and Hermione who are the Prefects now. And there's no Fred or George to irrate you."
"Who said we couldn't irrate?"
"I think someone said we were annoying, George."
The twins had arrived, identical to the last freckle. They both swept regally into the kitchen, dressed in what Harry would consider to be a style similar to Bill's, except they didn't have the long ponytails or the fanged earring. But they were wearing boots of the same scaly dragonskin as their jackets.
"Hey! Look, Fred, it's Harry!"
"Bless my soul, it is!"
And they both bowed down ridiculously low. Ginny muffled a giggle into the sleeve of her robes while Mrs. Weasley turned from the stove. "Fred, George, if you're done with whatever it is you are doing, would you be so kind as to carry this pot to the table... slowly?"
Fred and George straightened so quickly Harry was sure he'd heard their backs crack. "Yes, Mum," Fred muttered, with George following at his heels.
Within a few minutes, the rest of the advance guard had joined them in the dining area, where a large bowl of stew was being ladeled out to those who sat around the table. Harry looked eagerly at his stew. Although Aunt Petunia had finally given in and had let Dudley eat whatever he wanted that summer, that didn't mean Harry didn't suffer with eating a lower proportion than him.
The food was delicious, and the company was even better. He was listening to the fifteenth prank that Fred and George had pulled at their new joke shop when Lupin suddenly cleared his throat and announced quietly: "We need to talk."
The chatter disappeared immediately. All eyes turned to Lupin who leaned forward slightly and crossed his arms. "I'm sure you know what about."
Harry nodded. He had a slight idea, but he really hoped there would be no surprises tonight. It was hard enough walking back into this house knowing the man who owned it was dead.
"Wait a minute," said Mrs. Weasley sternly. "Ginny, Ron, you are forewarned. I'm not going to stop you from listening in case something happens to your father and I." She glanced at Harry and bit her lip. "You need to know, too."
"How much attention have you been paying to the Daily Prophet?" Lupin asked him quietly.
"I only got it every few days," Harry admitted. "And I actually read it through this time. There's quite a lot of panic."
"They've created a new press, the Ministry of Magic," Lupin said, turning to Mad-Eye Moody, who passed up a large paper and set it on the table. For a moment, no one spoke as Harry took it and scanned the front page. "We thought that this article would be particularily beneficial to you."
"Sirius has finally been cleared," Harry breathed, spying the moving face of his godfather blinking up at him. He quickly turned the paper over and pushed it away. "What type of paper is this?"
"Intelligence, being sent out through the Order and through the Ministry," Moody growled.
"It was an idea of the Aurors'," Tonks put in, setting down her empty goblet with a resounding thud as it spun on its side. She took no notice. "Have you met our newest guest yet?" she asked suddenly, beckoning toward the doorway where the witch who had been cooking suddenly swept in. "Her parents weren't with the Order originally, but she's since joined since her Mother died. She's Tara, and she will soon be in training to become an Auror."
"Hi," said Harry gently, spying the shy look on the woman's face. She smiled hesitantly before ducking out of the kitchen again.
"She hasn't been around people much," Lupin said softly. "But she's the one who's made a lot of the progress around the house."
"Yeah," Harry said, glancing at the ornate ceiling. "I've noticed."
"We didn't come to discuss the house," Moody growled, his magically-spinning eye on Harry. "We came here to discuss all we've done this summer to prepare for your next year at Hogwart's."
"Right," Lupin said smoothly, picking up where he'd left off. He folded the paper in two and handed it back to Moody. "We have finally found a good Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who knows her dues and she will be teaching you everything you need to know to fight what's coming ahead." His voice dropped. "I'm not sure how much you've learned, but more than mere dementors have now joined Voldemort's ranks. There are creatures of night that draw nearer to the forests around Hogwart's and the Ministry."
"We fear that the Ministry may be the next target, Harry," Tonks said.
"Now that Minister Fudge knows that Voldemort is back," Mr. Weasley continued, "he cannot risk letting the Ministry foil his ultimate plan, which is to destroy you."
"He may have gotten a hold of who was the one that told of the prophecy regarding your birth," said Lupin, frowning slightly. "Professor Dumbledore didn't tell us many of the details, but we can figure some."
Harry felt a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. He could feel several pairs of eyes looking at him and he quickly glanced down at the table.
"So far, Voldemort hasn't gotten very far," Mrs. Weasley said, with a pointed look at her husband, who had flinched slightly when she had said the name, even though he had just used it moments before. "We believe this is because most of his Death Eaters are still within the confines of Azkaban."
"But Azkaban no longer has any guards," Ron pointed out. "How can they still be there?"
"Dumbledore," Bill said with a grin. "Brilliant charm he used on the prison, until the new guards get there within a few days."
"There's guards for Azkaban?" Harry asked in amazement.
"There are," Tonks replied.
"And I think we've told you everything you needed to know," Lupin said in his firm voice, turning toward the end of the table, where Ron, Harry, Ginny, Fred and George were still sitting at rapt attention. "I think it's best if we all get some rest. We have much to do tomorrow."
Mrs. Weasley rose with her children and Harry and followed them upstairs. Once Ron and Harry were tucked away in their room, Ron turned to Harry. "Wicked, isn't it? You show up and suddenly they spill everything they've been hiding all summer."
"I guess they figured I should know," Harry admitted as he changed into his pajamas. Ron, however, sat on the end of the bed, lost in thought. "What is it?"
"I dunno," he said softly, tipping his head to the side. "I'm just trying to figure out who they got to guard Azkaban. Dementors are easily the scariest creatures to walk the planet. What else could there be that's worse?"
"I dunno," Harry said, also sitting on the end of his bed, his thoughts taking him to his imagination, where he saw a large stone fortress being guarded by large, winged creatures. "Dragons?"
Ron shook his head thoughtfully, rose and began to change.
As Harry crawled into bed, another thought occured to him. "Hey, Ron... why are Fred and George here? Do they still live at the Burrow?"
"No, they live in London," Ron said reluctantly. "I've begged Mum enough to go with them, but they need their space you know." He made a face. "And neighbors who won't complain of the noise."
"Why are they staying here?" Harry asked gently.
"They turned up last night, demanding to be on your advance guard," Ron confessed. "But Mum said no, and Moody nixxed the idea immediately. They said they wanted to be there in case something bad happened, which was probably a mistake to say in front of Mum. You know how they are," he waved his hands carelessly.
Harry was still lost in thoughts as Ron called out "good night!" and rolled over.
"Good night," Harry whispered, turning to the wall where he knew that a portrait was standing there, watching.
And it brought a strange sense of comfort.
The group quickly gathered their things and rose as one to unboard the plane. As soon as they were on flat ground again, Amanda sprang forward, dropped to her knees, and kissed the short, freshly cut grass. "I never liked flying," she confessed as the other Slayers hauled her to her feet and set off across the lawn.
It was just past sunrise and Buffy felt refreshed as they approached a long line of simple black cars, and a tall group of men, all in dark suits, awaiting them.
"What's with the double oh-seven?" Faith muttered behind her.
"Are you with the Ministry?" Buffy asked in a loud voice.
The nearest one stepped forward. He was tall and dark-skinned and had a deep, slow voice. "Kingsley Shacklebolt," he said, extending his hand to her while his eyes glanced from one beaming face to the next behind her. "You must be Ms. Summers and this must be your crew."
"Yes," Buffy affirmed as she stepped aside, allowing the others to introduce themselves.
"I apologize that the Minister could not make it on his own," Kingsley said. "But these are dangerous times."
"Believe me, I understand," Buffy replied. "Are these for us?"
"Yes," he answered. "Although I would like the leaders in the head car, and the rest can follow. The Minister is most anxious to meet you."
"And I him," Buffy said, assuming her professional tone as she turned toward the group. "Faith, Willow, Giles, Wesley and Dawn, we're in the lead car. All others, spread yourselves out. We have quite the welcoming committee."
The group separated. Buffy and the others climbed into the car, where, to their surprise, there was enough room for all of them and their luggage to sit in the backseat comfortably.
"What sort of vehicle is this?" Wesley asked softly as he glanced at the spacious area.
"A charmed one," the driver replied curtly, closing the door and locking out the remnants of the sunrise.
"I never knew they could charm cars!" Dawn cried out, reaching up to run her fingers along the ceiling.
Willow glanced at the floor, where all of their luggage was neatly stacked in the middle. "Apparently they can."
As soon as everyone had boarded, they drove off. What was most curious, they saw, was that the car had a way of jumping ahead of the unmoving traffic lights, moving in tight spaces where a car would not normally fit. The trip, which should have taken at least an hour, took less than fifteen minutes.
As soon as they had stopped, the door opened and Faith stepped out first, shielding her eyes against the sun. As she stepped aside, Dawn tumbled out, tripping over the curb and knocking into Faith, who caught her gracefully. Giles and Wesley were next, both keen enough to wear sunglasses to shield the bright light. Willow followed and Buffy was the last out, scanning the wide expanse of alleys and buildings that surrounded them. On the corner, just up a head, was a broken-down phone booth.
Kinglsey approached them again from out of thin air with a loud crack. Dawn let out a squeal and fell backwards this time as the other cars approached.
"All right," he said, counting the heads quickly. "You should proceed to the phone booth, and those nearest should dial six two four four two. And give your names and follow the proper instructions." The gang was even more confused as it crossed the street.
"He's kind of... weird," Buffy said softly to Faith.
"He reminds me of Robin," Faith replied, a strange look on her face.
"Aren't you sad the school district transferred him to Beverly Hills?" Buffy asked gently as she opened the door to the booth and ushered everyone in.
Dawn took the honors of dialing the numbers. After waiting a bit, Dawn banged the receiver on what part of the glass she could reach and muttered, "I think it's broken."
Suddenly a cool female voice sounded around them. They all looked, squashed together inside the box, the only reason some could fit was because Dawn was practically standing on top of Willow.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Oh, God," Buffy groaned against the glass of the door. "Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Rupert Giles, Dawn Summers... and... a few others," Buffy panted, because all of the wind had just been knocked out of her by Giles, who had shifted his elbow. "We're here to see the Minister of Magic."
"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."
"Robes?" Faith echoed faintly.
Suddenly from the quarter tray sprung tiny badges. As they scattered like raindrops on the floor, the group turned as one to stare at them.
"What happens now?" Giles asked, as though he didn't want to know.
The phone booth gave a frightening lurch, causing Dawn to yelp and knock Giles into Buffy, who nearly fell out the door. Then she realized that the lights weren't moving, the booth was.
"Visitors to the Ministry," the cool voice continued as the booth edged further underground. Buffy knew the others were too squished to know what was really happening. "You are required to submit to a search and present your want for registration at the security -"
The voice was cut off as Dawn yelped again. She had just realized the booth was moving down.
And down it went, all shrouded in blackness until a soft golden light began to filter through until all they saw was a shiny light.
"Open the door, Buffy."
And she did.
For the reviewers...
I do plan on having "pairings"... I just don't know what they'll be yet. I do have one idea of a couple NOT to have continue, but they will. I'll accept all areas of input because if I like something and think I can work with it, it just may happen. I will shy away from slash relationships though, with the exception of Willow.
The four "men" on the plane: Giles, Wesley (explained in a later chapter), Andrew and Xander. You now know why Robin Wood wasn't there. I think all of the other questions have been answered, hmmmm?