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: Ten (or eleven, if I decide to make the last two smaller) chapters plus epilogue, after the final cut. . I finally get to move on to some other works now, yay! Finishing a long-time project (this one has been in the works for almost 2 years now) is always a relief.
Enjoy! Let me know what you think!
Part Six — Chameleon
August 8
Harry hadn't dreamed of a ginger-haired girl before. Or maybe girl wasn't the word; she was older than Harry, but younger than a professor. She was Bill's age, abouts, or maybe Charlie's, and Harry could see the power seeping off of her. With Professor Snape gone, his Occlumency lessons had halted indefinitely and as a result, Harry saw the woman through Voldemort's own eyes. She refused to cower while Lucius Malfoy taunted and tortured her, yet Harry/Voldemort stayed out of her line of vision and refused to intervene either way.
It had grown obvious that she didn't know where Rupert Giles was hiding out. She knew him though; knew him as a bumbling professorial librarian; knew him as a Muggle. She acted like a Muggle, though her desperate attempts to summon wandless magic proved she, in fact, was anything but. Malfoy had thought her a magic-less peion, until a spell knocked him off his feet.
Malfoy was using the Cruciatus again, perhaps the fifth time in the last hour, and the short spurts were taking their toll. Her whole body spasmed even when the spell ended and her eyes — her eyes were wild with fear, anger, and desperation. She was spilling the names of everyone she'd ever known. They just weren't the answers the Dark Lord wanted to know.
"When was the last time you saw Rupert Giles, Mudblood?" Lucius demanded, training his ebony wand upon her fallen form.
She'd stopped sobbing long ago, tears beyond her. "In the morning... he was at the Magic Box in the morning... he was taking Dawn to visit B-Buffy's grave..." She turned her head a bit, seeking privacy for silent, tearless sobs.
The names of Dawn and Buffy had come up many times over the hours; so had Xander and Mrs. Summers, Angel and Spike, Jenny and Amy. The names were worthless to the Dark Lord and so Harry found himself examining the aura of power surrounding her. She was strong; strong beyond the level of most wizards he was familiar with except for Dumbledore and Voldemort himself. In her was the potential for a very powerful advocate of the Light — or of the Dark, if her reeducation was done correctly.
Finally, Harry glanced to the side and caught sight of his serpentine reflection in a close-by mirror. He raised his wand and tapped himself on the head, muttering the words to the Chameleon Charm under his breath, and was greeted instead with the visage of the Tom Riddle of old: dark hair, dark eyes, handsome features, and innocent expression. This Tom Riddle looked no older than thirty or thirty-five but the smile that crossed his features was still so evil that Harry tried to shudder, though he had no control over the body he inhabited.
And then Harry was walking forward to speak to Malfoy, into the girl's line of sight. "Lucius, leave the poor girl alone. She has nothing you want. She is tired and pained."
Malfoy whirled and seemed surprised Harry's outside form, sinking quickly to his knees. "Of course, my Lord. Forgive me. Shall I rid the world of her stench?"
"I smell nothing unpleasant," Harry found himself replying, sniffing haughtily. "You've been mistreating her."
"Shall I — shall I make up a room for her?" Lucius cringed. Such a room would no doubt be in Malfoy Manor, and knowing Lucius, he'd insist upon scrubbing down the abode after the Muggleborn guest left.
Harry's host had other plans. "A room, Lucius, for an... extended length of time. She will require plenty of time to recover from your abuse. Be wary, or I shall have to punish you."
"Of course, my Lord. I am at your command, my Lord," Lucius whispered, taking the deepest bow his kneeling position could allowed.
When Lucius had bowed his way from sight, Harry approached the girl and offered a hand to get her to her feet. She took it cautiously. "Wh-why are you h-helping?" she croaked, voice raw from screaming.
"Why, you were in pain," Harry said simply, giving a wan smile. "We only wish to end your suffering."
"What do you know of my suffering?" she whispered, quaking arm brushing tears away. "Wh-why should I believe any word you say?"
Don't believe, Harry willed her, don't believe! But his body smiled wanly, and reached out a hand to help her up. "I know only what you tell me... and you need believe only my words — because I will never lie to you."
"That could be a lie," she persisted.
"It could be," the Dark Lord answered. "But I have no use for lies anymore; the truth suits my aims much better. So come, Willow Rosenberg — I will tell you any truth you wish to know. I will help you end your suffering."
She eyed him warily. "What's your real name, then? It can't be Lord Voldiemart."
Harry felt the surge of anger coursing through his host body's veins, but the smile persisted. "Lord Voldemort, Miss Rosenberg. And no, that was not the name I had at birth. I was called Tom Marvolo Riddle. Few know it; count yourself lucky that I have promised not to lie to you." He extended his hand a bit closer. "I will teach you to detect lies, Miss Rosenberg."
"Will you teach me real magic?" she whispered. There was something in her eyes; something darker than Harry had imagined could be there and he felt fear for the girl's future. The Dark Lord nodded, and Harry's fear increased tenfold as the girl tentatively reached out and took Lord Voldemort's hand.
------
Dawn was awakened by screams coming from somewhere above her. She was disoriented by her new surroundings and had to take a long moment to realize her current situation could be attributed to Giles' bad choice in friends before she figured where the noise was coming from. It was that stupid, stuck up Griffindope wanker (to borrow a Spike-word), Potter.
She considered leaving him to whatever fate awaited him for a short moment before coming to the conclusion that the screams would be more of a bother than running up to help him. Uncaring of the fact she was wearing only the tshirt she'd brought on her back (the provided nightclothes looked like something Grandma Summers would sleep in), Dawn forced her way into the dormitory and hurried to Harry's side.
His nightmare looked to equal any of Buffy's slayer dreams. He was tangled in the red sheets, wetness of tearstains glinting on his cheeks in the dim lights and shouting incoherently, names and words. She reached out to grab his shoulder and shake him awake when he rocketed to a sitting position, eyes glinting a mad red, and grabbed her first. "It's only just begun," Harry hissed in a voice unlike his own.
Dawn jerked back, letting out a reflexive shriek. The red faded and he slumped to the side, releasing her shoulders so that she tripped back and landed on her back end on the floor. Ignoring the pain flashing through her back from the jarring impact on the cold stone, she launched herself for his wand, which she noticed hanging over the edge of his bedside table. She held it like a stake and balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to make a run for Giles, if she needed to.
However, Harry looked as frightened of her as she was of him. "What are you doing in my room?" he squeaked, scooting away from her across the bed only to find himself throroughly tangled in the sheets.
"What do you mean, what am I doing? Shouldn't I be asking you why the hell you grabbed me like that? Or why you were screaming like the apocalypse was here again?" Her hand shaking, she adjusted the wand to its proper position. "Your eyes were all freaky red, and now they're green!"
"Red?" He pushed the covers down and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, shoving them onto his face — his boxers had little roaring lions on them, Dawn noted dully, her brain caught between the light that shone red on his eyes and his apparent missing time. "My eyes were red? And — I grabbed you?"
He seemed almost concerned, which was certainly the opposite of his irritability the evening before. "Yeah. Freaky demon-red eyes and ouchy grip." She rolled up the sleeve of her tshirt with her free hand to expose finger-shaped red marks, already starting to darken into bruises. "See? Didn't do this to myself, y'know."
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I don't remember..." Something seemed to connect in his his mind and he grabbed for his bathrobe. "Bloody hell. I've got to send an owl... this is really an emergency..."
"Well I'm coming, too!" Dawn waved the wand around as threateningly as she could manage. What did animals have to do with anything? He was clearly out of his mind. "If you go all red-eyed again, somebody had better stop you."
He gave a snort. "I doubt you could manage it, if it's what I think it is."
"Managed to stun you quite nicely yesterday," she shot back, putting her hands on her hips.
That seemed to draw the teenage boy's attention to the fact she wasn't wearing pants. He flushed red, averted his eyes, and offered his red bathrobe (embroidered with roaring lions along the lapels) which she pulled on haphazardly, not bothering to tie it. "D-didn't they give you a nightgown?" He still wasn't looking at her.
"It looked like my grandmother's," she snapped back. "I'm not wearing that. Now, if this is such an emergency, shouldn't we be going?" Hopefully they'd run into Giles in the hall, so she could explain how crazy Potter had turned out to be.
He glared and rummaged around for a big black cloak (also embroidered with a lion... she was getting sick to death of lions...) which he threw around himself to cover his boxer and tshirt combination, and slipped on a pair of holey socks. "The floors are cold."
"Not caring," Dawn countered. While he put on his shoes, she glanced out the window to the dawn sky. The pinks and oranges coming over the hills of... wherever they were... well, it was pretty, to say the least. It was a shame that such a sunrise had to be wasted on a butthead like Harry Potter. "What was your nightmare about?"
Potter was climbing to his feet, but he froze. "I'd rather not -"
"Not caring," Dawn repeated. "You went all weird-eyed because of it. You were screaming and woke me up, and I'm crabby. Now spill."
He looked bemused, but answered as he led the way out of the tower, Dawn following with his wand. "I dream about Voldemort. I can see what he's doing, sometimes, when he's particularly happy or murderous. There was a woman that one of the Death Eaters was torturing... she was Muggleborn, but Voldemort saw she was powerful and convinced her to learn from him, once he got the Death Eater to stop... does this make any sense to you?"
Dawn scoffed. "Of course. What do I look like, an idiot? Torture, lady, baddies, seduced by the Dark Side. Is that why we're running around before normal people are awake to visit birds?"
"Owls," Potter snapped. "We're going to send a letter to someone who'll know all about my eyes going red. He can see through my eyes and I can see through his — we're connected. And... how can you not know about Owl post? Didn't your dad tell you anything?"
"No," she said shortly. "He didn't. Not a thing. I'm a magical virgin, or something. He hid it from everyone — my sister, my mom, all my sister's friends. She was the Slayer, and he could've helped! He could've saved -" She cut herself off, reaching out to catch herself against the wall before she started crying again, and this time in the presence of someone she was starting to loathe. Giles couldn't have saved Buffy. Giles couldn't have defeated Glory. He couldn't have kept her from jumping into the vortex that Dawn's blood opened and couldn't keep her life from ending as she plummeted through to the ground. She was dead before she hit pavement.
Potter was watching her. "The Slayer that died the other night — that was your sister?"
"No. That was Faith... my sister's replacement," she said bitterly. The wand slipped from her hand and Potter caught it, helping her to sink to the ground, where she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped herself tightly in his bathrobe. "She was a crazy psycho. And now there's a new Slayer somewhere, and she'll go off and get herself killed, too, and leave her family behind because it's the right thing to do. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it, Buffy told me. Well she's right — but I'm stuck here, aren't I."
Silently, Potter took a seat beside Dawn and wrapped himself in his cloak. He picked at a stray thread coming from the lion's mane before speaking very softly. "I didn't grab you and shake you right then, earlier. I think that was Voldemort. I think he's finally figured out how to control my actions." He rested his chin on his knees. "Professor Snape was supposed to teach me how to keep Voldemort from getting in my head, but I did something stupid, and he kicked me out of his office. Now Dumbledore doesn't have the time to teach me and I'm a danger to everybody."
"Huh. Guess we're more alike than I thought. I'm a weapon, too." Dawn gave a twisted smile. "My blood was the key to opening a hole between this world and Hell. My sister gave her blood to close it. She saved my life, at the cost of hers."
"My godfather," Harry said shortly. He scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands. "Voldemort sent me a vision. I saw Sirius - that's my godfather — being tortured. So I ran off to save him... turns out it was a trap. Sirius showed up later, when Death Eaters were trying to kill me. He got hit with a spell... and fell through this arch. The veil between life and death." He sighed. "I don't know if he was dead when he fell." There were a few moments of silence while Dawn stared at her hands and Potter picked at his fingernails. "I haven't really told anyone about it," he said haltingly. "Not since it happened. I haven't talked about it."
Dawn nodded, not looking at him. "Nobody understands what it feels like to lose everything in just one moment, like that. It's like... something coming down to crush you. I don't know, I can't explain it. It just hurts. And it doesn't go away, like everybody says."
"It's just pain and loss and the end of hope." Harry stopped after that, and they sat quietly, propped against the stones in the hallway.
------
Harry didn't remember dozing off in the hallway, but he woke to find Professor McGonagall's stern face in an uncharacteristic smirk of good humor. "Good morning, Mr. Potter, Miss Giles. Is there a cushioning charm on the wall I was unaware of?"
He could feel his face flashing red as he jumped to his feet. Unfortunately, he discovered Giles had been leaning against him, and she went sprawling across the corridor, bare feet and long legs poking out from under his bathrobe. That fact served only to make him more flustered. "Er — Professor, we were just -" And then everything came back into focus. "I had a dream, Professor, another one about Voldemort. There was a woman... er... she had red hair, and she was Muggleborn, and Lucius Malfoy was torturing her, but Voldemort made him stop."
Before he could go on, Giles was standing at his side, patting her hair down and butting in. "He was all screaming and stuff and he woke me up. I thought he was being attacked. So I ran upstairs, and he woke up — his eyes were red and nasty, and he grabbed my arm, bruised me... he said 'it's all just begun' or something, and then he snapped out of it and he couldn't remember anything!"
"Voldemort offered to teach the Muggleborn woman magic, and she accepted!" Harry offered, trying to finish his tale. McGonagall looked flustered, glancing back and forth between the two of them.
"Go, get dressed," she ordered. "You can tell your tales to Headmaster Dumbledore at the breakfast table, in five minutes. Olivander will be here in just half an hour, and you'll need to be presentable, Miss Giles."
Giles' eyes narrowed. "Wait, there. I've got a bone to pick with you. Why're all the clothes up in my room all Catholic school girl?"
McGonagall looked at her blankly. "If you're referring to the school uniforms... your father has seen fit to enroll you for the coming school year. He mentioned something about it being safer than your previous school? When you have a wand, we'll talk about getting into Hogsmeade to visit Madame Malkin's to get you fitted for proper robes. And we'll Sort you in good time."
"Goody," Giles muttered, crossing her arms. She turned to Harry. "I can't find my way back to the painting, so you're gonna have to lead."
Harry sighed and bid good morning to Professor McGonagall. It hardly seemed possible after their heart-to-heart, but Dawn Giles had become just as disagreeable as the evening before. She was Slytherin material through and through. At least he had his wand back — it was tucked in his waistband, though with what Mad-Eye Moody told him about blasting buttocks off, it might be even a worse place than his back pocket. Flushing unconsciously, he grabbed his wand from its place and carried it instead. "Bounty Bar," he told the Fat Lady.
"Why the password?" Giles asked as they climbed into the Common Room. "It seems so... goofy. What's a bounty bar?"
"Muggle candy bar. Coconut covered in chocolate... and the passwords insure that the other Houses can't get in and sabotage ours, I suppose. They're changed every so often, so you won't know the right one once you've been Sorted." She really didn't know anything, he mused. She sounded just like... just like he had, as a first-year. The comparison took him aback as they parted at her door. He was acting just like Hermione at her worst.
------
"Stupid Houses," Dawn muttered, buttoning up the white Oxford shirt and adjusting the pleated, grey wool skirt. "Stupid uniforms." She pulled on the knee-high socks, but left them pooled down around her ankles in protest, along with wearing her Doc Marten boots. "Stupid school." The tie was draped around her neck loosely, as she hadn't a clue how to tie it. The cloak was left folded on the chair beside the bed. "Stupid Voldemort," she finished, charging for the door.
Potter was waiting in the big red room at the bottom of the stairs, and he broke into giggles at her outfit. "What the bloody hell are you wearing your tie like that for? McGonagall'll have fits over your shoes!"
"I can't tie a tie," she snapped, taking the black thing off and tossing it in Potter's face. "Why don't you do it? And I like my boots — they're Doc Martens, and it's not the school year, so I'm not wearing those dopey shoes around!"
"Right, right," Potter said distractedly, settling the tie around his neck and doing it up without looking at it. He handed it back and straightened his own red and yellow striped one while she put hers on — loosely. "I suppose they'll Sort you today, too. Before your dad's off on his mission."
She didn't want to think about it, and decided not to respond. "You'll send whatever you were going to send to... whomever it was, this morning?"
"I have no idea what you just said," he countered, climbing out the portrait hole ahead of her.
"The stuff. About possession and Lord Waldamart and the scary red eyes?" She shrugged. "You were all 'emergency!' about it, and now it's not important?"
"It's important. I'll see to it after breakfast," Potter said decisively. "Oh — and his name's Voldemort. You keep saying it wrong."
Dawn shrugged. "Stupid name. I couldn't care less what it is."
"It's an anagram."
"So?" Dawn snorted. "I don't care if there's a secret decoder ring. It's a dumb-ass name, for a rotting baddie, and my dad's gonna kick his butt." Her stride hesitated as she realized just how easily 'my dad' had flowed from her lips regarding Giles. And he was, at that — he'd adopted her, signed his name. Though legally her name remained Dawn Summers, the funny British librarian who blushed around her mother and cared for her sister was really and truly her dad. Maybe Dawn Giles didn't sound all that bad...
Okay, it did. It was going to take some getting used to.
Potter was going on about some scar and some graveyard and a cauldron, but Dawn had lost track in her musings. They were soon at a big room with four long tables and a short table at the front, which appeared to be open to the sky. "It's a charm," Potter explained. "It reflects the weather outside." Which was apparently a cloudless blue sky.
There was an empty chair between the Professor McGonagall lady and Giles, who was seated next to Dumbledore, so Dawn took it and let Potter find his own place. Giles turned from his conversation with the Headmaster to give Dawn a peck on the forehead. "It looks right to see you in the Hogwarts uniform," he said, reaching over to straighten her tie.
"I look like the girls at Sacred Heart," she grumbled, glaring when he laughed softly.
"You'll become used to it. The castle is quite draughty — by winter, you'll be glad to have the sweater and robe." He looked ready to pick up his conversation with Dumbledore again, but Dawn refused to be ignored.
"I thought you were hiding from these people," she snapped. "I thought you joined that Lord freak and killed people. Aren't they going to put you in prison?"
Giles seemed to deflate under her sharp tongue, sinking back into his chair, so that it was Dumbledore who answered. He leaned forward, impossibly blue eyes twinkling irritatingly. "Your father has been granted a full pardon for his crimes, as he is risking himself to recover Professor Snape. The Minister for Magic believes such a sacrifice to be enough penance... though I believe I may've had something to do with that. You see, the Minister owes me a year of favours."
She wasn't going to ask. "Yeah. K, whatever. Why are there beans on my plate?" They'd diverted her attention — all soppy and orange, in a little pile next to a waffley-looking thing, little dark patties of meat, and tomatoes. "This is one freaked out breakfast."
Giles snorted and went back to speaking to Dumbledore, while McGonagall took over for him. "It's a full Scottish breakfast," she explained. "Black pudding, bangers and mash -"
"Am I gonna wear the funky hat today?" Somehow, being rude to everyone possible made her feel impossibly better. McGonagall's lips thinned to a tight line as she pressed them together in dismay and Dawn held back a smirk — until Giles smacked her arm lightly and glared. "Fine," she muttered to him under her breath. "Pardon me, Professor McGonagall, but am I gonna wear the hat thingy?"
She caught Giles rolling his eyes, but McGonagall seemed to find it amusing. "The... er... hat thingy, as you so aptly refer, is the Sorting Hat. And if you'd like, we could Sort you after you receive your wand?"
"Sounds fine." Dawn was about to ask when that would be when the door of the big room swung open with a loud bang and an old man hobbled in, followed by three younger men carrying stacks of really skinny shoeboxes.
"Mr. Olivander!" Dumbledore called, rising from his seat. "Welcome! Thank you for coming so promptly — we have an emergency wand replacement!"
Giles was on his feet and tugging Dawn with him. "M-Mr. Olivander, sir... so good to see you again... my wand was -"
"Taken and snapped in half by a Death Eater, so Headmaster Dumbledore has informed me," the man said, finally reaching the table. Giles rounded the length of it, taking Dawn with him. She spent the time examining Olivander — he was old, older than anyone she'd seen before, and in amazingly good shape. "Cherry, augury feather core, 11 inches, quite firm. Good for Defense work, though I dare say it was used for the Dark Arts, as well."
At that, Giles blushed.
Olivander took no notice, as he took a box from the top of one of the piles the young man nearest him was holding. "My great-grandsons," Olivander explained. "William, Oliver, and Richard." He opened the shoe box to silence, taking out a wand which seemed identical to the one Dawn had found in the junk drawer. "Go on, give it a wave, Rupert."
Giles did so, and smiled as sparks of green, blue, and silver shot out of the ends. "It feels nice to be able to use it, again... how much? I'll have to transfer Galleons -"
"Consider it payment for services rendered," Dumbledore responded from behind the table. "And now, our newest student..."
That seemed to be Dawn's cue. She stepped forward and waited for Olivander to give her a wand, but it seemed to be much more complicated than that. He asked a series of questions, measured her with a magical measuring tape that floated itself, and started grabbing boxes from the piles in his great-grandsons' arms. Cherry, oak, willow, and pine; dragon heart-string, unicorn hair, and phoenix feather — none of them did anything but damage as she waved them when directed. He went through a deep pile of wands before pulling out the next likely candidate. "Maple, 8 inches, a core of vampire dust. Stout and solid... quite good for transfiguration, I'd say." He eyed her carefully. "If this isn't the perfect wand for you, with your sister a slayer, I'll sell my shop."
That was a tall order indeed. But as she took the wand from him, she understood just why Giles handled his so carefully. It seemed to complete her; to extend her. Using Potter's felt forced, but magic flowed through her effortlessly as a puff of purple, green, and gold fireworks shot from the end. "Somebody dusted a vampire... and gave you the dust?" she asked quietly.
Olivander shook his head. "Not at all, Miss Giles. I dusted the vampire, nearly a hundred years ago. That wand is unique — it has no brother, as the vampire who supplied the core became only enough dust for one wand. Brother wands, you see... can create problems."
"Of course," Dawn murmured, though she hadn't a clue what he was talking about. She was too busy admiring the eight inches of maple fitting perfectly into her grip. So she was a witch, now — a witch with a magic wand, almost ready to join up with the secret world of wizards just like her. That didn't sound bad at all.