Author: Indarae
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Dawn/Harry... a little. Hints of Joyce/Giles in the past.
Summary: With Dawn's father absent after Buffy's death, care for the younger Summers falls to one Rupert Giles. However, even as life returns to normal, pieces of his past come back to threaten the future.
A/N: The conclusion is in my fingertips, waiting to be written... There will be 13 chapters, plus an epilogue. I'm hoping to post a bit more regularly, now, but my current computer is craptacular. It's time for him to be retired. Hopefully, he'll last out the summer.
Enjoy! Let me know what you think!
Part Five — Envious Triumph
August 7
It was just before dusk as they stood in front of the graves. They didn't have much time before full dark came upon them and they were forced to retreat to the safety of lighted civilization. "Are your things packed and in the trunk?" Giles asked quietly.
Dawn sighed deeply. "Yeah. Are you sure this is the right decision?"
The news had come only hours earlier: Wesley and Faith were dead, found in a park in LA near Angel's hotel home. Wesley had been stabbed to death, but there was an odd substance in his bloodstream. Faith... no one knew how she'd died. Her face was frozen in shock, and she'd simply... stopped.
But Giles had told her the truth. Faith had been murdered by wizards, probably, and they were most likely tracking down Giles. And now, with Wesley dead... they were in very serious danger because of some spell or another. Dawn kneeled to trace the words on the graves one more time before their desperate flight to Canada would begin. She wouldn't miss Sunnydale — but she'd miss Willow and Tara, Xander and Anya, and she wouldn't be able to say goodbye. It was too dangerous.
And then she felt a prickling along her spine. "Giles?" she whispered, standing slowly. "What's going on?"
"Someone's watching us," Giles replied, equally quiet. He grabbed her shoulder tightly. "I want you to run, Dawn, on my mark. I'll hold them off — you've got to get to Willow, she'll be able to protect you."
Panic filled her mind. "No. I won't. I'm not losing you, too!"
"Shh!" he hissed. He reached into his jacket pocket, where his wand rested. "I love you very much, Dawn. I'm so, so sorry to have brought you into the middle of this mess..."
"No," she was begging, fighting down hysterics, "don't leave me behind. Take me too!"
"They can't focus on you in the trees," Giles continued, and over his shoulder, she caught sight of a thin, dark figure. "Get help — get to Nomin Alley, and contact Albus Dumbledore." He leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Now RUN!"
She was nudged toward the dark trees firmly as he spun around and whipped out his wand. Unable to do more than follow orders... she ran. Echoes of his words followed her; words she sometimes identified from his books and sometimes didn't. "Expelliarmus!" and "Stupefy!" and "Impedimenta!" Her sobs slowed her only a bit.
And then, only steps into the trees, another figure popped into being from nowhere, directly in her path. He was tall and silver haired, his features masked in white and a black cloak covering his body. His hands were gloved in white as well, as he raised an ebony-coloured wand. "The Dark Lord wants you, too," the figure whispered.
Dawn didn't recognize the spell that came next, nor did she feel the effects, as something slammed into her and sent her hurtling to the side. The robed man yelled in frustration, but the breath had been knocked from her. A man — black haired — had pushed her out of the way of the hex and was grabbing for her hand forcing it onto a moldy-looking ladies' shoe. "Hold on!" he screamed, and the cloaked man turned to point his wand at the both of them. She didn't recognize the curse again, but as a green curtain of light rushed at them, she felt a swirling sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the green world tilted.
Then, all of a sudden, they weren't in the graveyard anymore. They were in a circular room, still collapsed on the floor, surrounded by portraits of distinguished-looking men and women and very comfortable-looking furnature. Dawn was rather unhappy to be on the floor, especially when the armchair looked so soft. Giles, however... the sobs bubbled up again. "Leave me alone!" she shrieked, shoving her assailant as hard as she could. "I can't leave him behind! He's going to die! He can't leave me, too!"
The man pulled himself to his knees, and Dawn finally realized that he wasn't quite a man — he was a boy around her age, skinny and wearing dorky glasses and clothes too big for him. "Sorry — didn't mean to grab you like that, but Malfoy was about to do an Imperius on you. Don't worry about your Dad. McGonagall and Charlie will help him out."
The unnamed boy seemed a little disoriented, and tottered a bit as he climbed to his feet. Dawn took that as her chance and snagged the wand right from his fist, pointing it back at him. "Where am I?" she snapped. "How do I get home?"
He looked affronted rather than scared. "You're at Hogwarts! In the Headmaster's office. Didn't your dad -"
"Answer me. How do I get home?" She got to her feet, backing away from him a little to peer at the items on the shelves surrounding them. The paintings were staring at her — and moving, just like in Giles' books.
"Well — we got here by portkey, of course, but it's only one way. McGonagall will bring your dad here. Er... we could call your mum, if you want."
Dawn gave a snort, blinking back sudden tears. "My 'mum' is dead. Now..." She paused, thinking back to Giles' words. The mark thingy on his arm was a sign of the group he was running from... it didn't appear anywhere in the room, though. "Roll up your sleeve. The left one."
The boy lifted his hands. "Hold up. I'm not a -"
"Impedimenta!" she snapped, remembering Giles' textbooks and flicking the wand in his direction. The spell was uncomfortable — it felt as though she was forcing something through the wand, though easier than the pencil she'd floated at the orientation — but it worked anyway, and the boy froze. Dawn crossed the room and rolled up the sleeve for him, only to find... nothing. She sagged with relief and lowered herself into a fluffy chair, leaving the boy as he was.
A door in the side of the room opened and Dawn shot to her feet again, pointing the wand at the figure who entered. He was old — terribly old, robed in turquoise blue and wearing a tall, pointy hat. His kind, blue eyes peered over half-moon glasses and his hair and beard flowed long in white. "There's no need for that, Miss Giles."
It took a moment for her to catch what he'd said — she spent a minute glancing around for Giles — but she felt no need to correct him. She'd read about the prejudice against people who didn't have wizard parents, so maybe pretending was the best way. "I just want to know that he's okay," she whispered, letting her body collapse back into the chair. "I don't want to be alone again."
"Rupert was always a strong wizard. Do not worry too much. Now then... let us give Mr. Potter here his freedom? He was only trying to help." The man moved over to sit behind the heavy oak desk and waved his hand dismissively.
The boy — Mr. Potter — unfroze and spun around to face Dawn, scowling. "Hey! I'm not a Death Eater! I saved you from a Death Eater! Can I have my wand back?"
She shrugged and tossed it at him, holding back a snicker as he fumbled to catch it. "Who are you, then?"
"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school," the old man said.
Dawn thought back to her reading, remembering the name cropping up over and over again, and to Giles gasping out the name as he sent her running. "I guess you're the good guys then. So where is he?"
"My deputy is no doubt explaining the severity of the situation to him. One of his school mates has been kidnapped, and we are in desperate need of his help. Now, then, Miss Giles... do you have a first name?"
"Dawn," she muttered.
The door burst open and a tall man with a red ponytail hurried in. "He's coming up, Headmaster. He needs a new wand — Macnair ripped his right from his hand and snapped it."
And then Giles was there, charging across the room to pull her into a hug and whisper to her ear. "God, I was so worried... we still need to be careful, I don't know what the political climate is, but Dumbledore's a good man..."
"Giles -" Dawn whispered back, but he cut her off.
"You have to pretend to be my daughter. They might not treat you right if you don't," he muttered before giving her a kiss on the forehead and raising his voice just slightly. "How did they get you here?"
She thought back to the boy's words, but couldn't remember. "There was this guy — one of the Death Eaters, but I could see his hair, it was long and blond — and he appeared right in front of me, and then that kid over there -" Dawn gestured to the boy in the chair.
Giles cut her off again. "Good Lord. That's Harry Potter."
The name was familiar somehow, but Dawn couldn't care less. "G- Dad," she snapped, grabbing his attention faster than she'd thought possible. "He used a key thing and poof, I was here."
"Portkey, Dawn," he corrected, still holding her in a hug. He turned his attention to Dumbledore. "She needs a wand and instruction. Then I'll help you. I couldn't teach her on the run."
The old man nodded. "A wand and instruction. And a new wand for you. I'll have Ollivander travel here himself, tomorrow. You'll help us locate Severus?"
"Keep her safe, and I'll do anything," Giles promised, rhythmically stroking Dawn's hair. She caught the Potter kid staring at her enviously, and the old man smiling in triumph. The good guys, apparently — she only hoped they weren't being deceived.
------
Willow could tell something was wrong the moment she entered the courtyard in front of Giles' place. The door was closed still, but something felt wrong about the place. She knocked loudly on the door, but no one answered.
The key was under the mat, like always, and she let herself in. "Giles? Dawnie?" she called. Only her voice rang back. And it was then that she noticed things were out of place. Drawers were thrown open and gone through, the weapon trunk was open but empty, and the books on the bookshelf — most were in messy piles on the floor, but for a short stack lying open on the shelves.
She crossed to figure out what was going on, only to realize she'd never seen the set of books before. They were texts — textbooks for magic. The pictures moved, the potions were advanced, and the margins of the books were full of notes for Ripper. Giles was hiding something from them...
And then she heard movement on the steps. She spun around to find a black cloaked figure perched on the step, pointing a stick at her, long silvery hair showing from behind a Phantom-of-the-Opera mask. "Hold still, little Muggle, and it won't hurt a bit," the man said, giving a cruel laugh. With a whispered spell — she thought she recognized the word as Latin; "Crucio," she was hit by a wave of pain and fell to her knees.
------
Dawn was dismissed, just like a little girl. She huffed, following Harry Potter down the stairs. "They always do this to me. Buffy used to make me leave all the time. Willow does it too, and so does G-Dad. I'm fifteen whole years old, how come they treat me like I'm five?" It wasn't intended as a question to the boy, but he answered anyway.
"They do it to me, too. They make excuses... but I think it all comes back to being underage," he shrugged. "Dumbledore told me to put you up in one of the Gryffindor dorms."
"I know. I heard," Dawn snapped. She didn't like his attitude, and she hadn't liked the way Giles cringed when the old man made that announcement. "We were supposed to be going to Canada, you know. Not Britain. People want to kill us here." She snorted. "People want to kill us everywhere."
Harry stopped at the bottom of a long stairway and sat down, patting the stone for her to join him. She didn't, but he started asking questions anyway. "So the Death Eaters chased you into a graveyard? I wonder what it is with them and graveyards."
"We were there already. Visiting my mom and my sister."
He gave a grim smile. "I wish I knew where my mum was buried." He sighed and looked down to his hands. "At least they left bodies to visit."
Dawn glared, finally taking the offered seat on the step. "Somehow that doesn't make losing my sister and my mom within four months of each other any better." Not to mention her dad, though she banished thoughts from her mind.
"My godfather died in June," Harry whispered. "He died fighting... but he didn't leave a body behind to bury."
"You can always put up a memorial," Dawn said, thinking of the fake grave for her own father, whose body was never returned from his murder in Europe. She paused, watching the boy stare at his feet and decided it was time to change the subject. "So... why was... Dad pissed that I'm staying in Griffindope, or whatever."
That was enough to snap the boy out of self-pity. "Gryffindor," he growled. "And it's likely because your dad was a Slytherin."
"You say Slytherin like it's a bad thing," Dawn growled back, though she hadn't a clue whether or not it was.
"More Dark wizards come out of Slytherin than any other House, bloody snakes," Harry spat.
"Oh, so that means I'm evil?" Dawn snarled. "I'm evil, just because my dad was in a dorm where evil people slept?"
Harry shook his head. "It's not just a dormitory, it's a way of being — it's who you are! The Sorting Hat looks into your brain and can tell you what traits you have: Gryffindors are brave, Ravenclaws are clever, Hufflepuffs are loyal, and Slytherins are evil."
"Slytherins are cunning, Mr. Potter," came a low voice from up the stairs. It was a frowning witch in a tall hat and shimmering dark blue robes. "You'd be smart not to badmouth one Slytherin in front of another, you know."
The boy turned tomato red, and Dawn couldn't help but laugh. "Professor Sinistra — I'm sorry, I didn't mean — you were a Slytherin? I didn't know..." he bumbled.
The witch, presumably Professor Sinistra, descended the rest of the stairs and offered a hand to Dawn. "Celeste Sinistra, former Slytherin and current Astronomy Mistress. Would you be a new student?"
"No," Dawn said shortly, "don't think so. Dawn s- Giles. My dad's -"
"Rupert will be helping to find Severus," Professor Sinistra said. "Minerva mentioned it. I'm so glad, Miss Giles, so glad... you're to be put up with the Gryffindors until he's done, then?"
She shrugged. "I suppose so. He's the only one here, though, right? And I should probably be back home for school..."
"Where do you go?" the woman asked, looking uncomfortable as she took a seat next to Dawn. Harry, however, looked more uncomfortable at having a teacher crouching there with them, so Dawn refused to move. "Salem Academy, I'm guessing? I'd doubt Rupert would send you anywhere else."
"Er..." she blushed, unable to come up with a fake name, since witches would certainly know the names of their own schools. "Sunnydale High School. We're — we're hiding, you see. No one was supposed to be able to -"
"A Muggle school!" The woman sounded delighted. "I knew he'd get over the old prejudice! Tell me, Miss Giles, how do they take notes so that students can read them, when they don't have magic?"
Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Um... a chalkboard. They write on them with... chalk."
"While teaching?" The professor practically squealed. "What these Muggles come up with!"
"I should show her to Gryffindor Tower, where she's staying, Professor," Harry broke in, climbing to his feet. "It was... er... nice seeing you?"
Professor Sinistra patted Dawn on the shoulder encouragingly. "Well, then, hope to see you in Slytherin if you're around for the year. I'll be — er — filling in, you know."
Dawn didn't, but she wasn't about to say anything — she was too confused to bother. It seemed as though they expected her to have all sorts of knowledge about the magic world; and it wasn't a bad expectation, considering that her father was supposed to be a wizard. She gave a weak smile and nodded to the professor before following Harry up the stairs. "Why's she filling in?" Dawn finally whispered.
"Snape's missing. That's why your dad's being followed by Voldemort, and why Dumbledore sent us to find you. Professor Snape was kidnapped, and was tortured until he gave information. Dumbledore wants your dad to help find him."
At that, Dawn stopped short in the hall. "Wait. You want my dad to go hunt down that Walmart guy? The one trying to KILL him?" She shook her head violently. "NO. No way. My sister gave herself for the world — he's not gonna. He's all I have left."
"My godfather gave his life for the Light! He was all I have left! Some things are worth dying for," Harry snapped.
"Yeah? So he died for you? Maybe he should've lived for you. He died, and now you're living at your high school! How pathetic is that?" She stormed onward, stopping only when she realized the was directionless.
Harry's face blazed red in anger and he raised his fist threateningly. "Shut up. Don't think you can know where I'm coming from! My whole life has been one huge sacrifice for the Light — if it hadn't been for me, your dad would probably be dead already!"
"So quit judging me!" Dawn yelled back. "I've given enough already — my life's been a sacrifice, too! I don't care about you or what you think or what you've done; it's no bearing on my life! All I want is my sister back -" she paused, and lowered her voice, whispering the last so that Harry dropped his fist and took a half step forward to listen. "All I want is my sister back, and all I've got is a father who kept secrets from me. So quit judging me, or so help me, I'll punch your face in — and trust me, I can do it. My sister was the Slayer."
Harry blanched and hung back, obviously affected somehow by Dawn's words, though she wasn't sure which ones. She followed him down the hall in silence, behind a portrait of a large woman in pink who opened the door only to the words "Bounty Bar," and into a cozy, red room where a note was pinned on the mantle. Harry read it silently before giving instructions in an oddly restrained voice. "Professor Dumbledore's decided you'll be sleeping in one of the dormitories on the girls' side. There are some robes for you to wear there, as well. It says your dad's decided to enroll you for the year."
"So I get to wear the funky hat?" She remembered it from her reading — some hat that decided what dorm the students lived in. Dawn figured it must be pretty impressive looking; maybe purple brocade with a big white feather sticking out the brim.
"Right. Funky hat," Harry snorted. "You're staying in the seventh year's dorm, second to the top. I'm going to bed, I'm in the sixth years dorm on the boys' side. Don't bother me, and I'll leave you alone." And before Dawn could say another word, he dashed up a curving stone staircase and out of sight.
She pouted for a few moments before deciding it was time to go off and find the place where she'd be staying — after all, there were supposed to be clothes there for her, and she loved clothes. She looked out of place when standing next to Professor Sinistra or the woman Professor Dumbledore called Minerva. They had flowing dress things, kinda like the robes she remembered wearing when she was an angel in a Christmas pageant when she was four or five.
Robes. And Professor Sinistra thought Muggles were weird.
The room was round, and of the six beds, only one was covered with sheets, which were in a lucious red. There were draperies hanging on the four-poster bed in the same colour, and folded nicely was a pile of clothes, which Dawn eagerly tore into. However, what she found gave her pause. There were a number of conservative grey skirts, a whole pile of white Oxford shirts, grey sweaters, and a black tie with a funky shield on it. "What the hell?" she growled. She wanted a dress like Arwen in that movie, with flowing sleeves and billowing skirts, not some nasty school uniform like the stupid Catholic school kids at Sacred Heart had to wear! And now that she thought about it... Harry had been wearing an Oxford shirt and grey slacks, and a red and yellow striped tie.
Buffy would've been laughing at her now — Dawn the magical Catholic schoolgirl. She tried to suppress the tears that threatened to flow over thoughts of her sister, her changed life, and the dark possibilities of the future only to find that holding them back was futile; and the tears came anyway.