A/N: I'm happy so many people have been enjoying this fic! Don't worry - you'll find out about Snape and Willow eventually.
(Oh! And thanks to whomever pointed out my error last chapter - Spike was not in the Magic Box. I missed that in my editing. Eventually, I'll get back and fix it.)
Chapter Eight – Fundamental Change
August 21
Mr. Gordo was gone, but at least she had her diary and a stack of her Muggle clothing. It would be enough to get her through until her father had the chance to take her out for new wizard clothes after his mission was over. Dawn was curled up on the couch with Buffy's favourite stake clutched tightly in her hand like a comforting toy. Her History of Magic textbook was open in front of her, though her eyes weren't registering the words or pictures.
After a long while of staring blankly, she became aware of someone else in the Gryffindor Common Room – Harry Potter, standing off to the side next to the fireplace, looking hesitant to speak. She shoved the stake under her robes. "What do you want?"
He looked startled by her sudden speech, or at least he did from the corner of Dawn's eye. "How was home? Did you get to see your friends?"
"Woldiemart has Willow," Dawn whispered.
"What?" Potter dropped whatever he'd been carrying – books, from the sound of the stack hitting the floor – and crossed to kneel next to her. "Voldemort has... one of your friends?" He looked guilty. "Did she- red hair, short, strong personality -"
"Willow," Dawn whispered and nodded. "Dad warned me about magic on the Hellmouth. He warned me it would turn me Dark, and I didn't listen, I just went and played with it and learned how to levitate things. But he was right, wasn't he... and now Willow's gone off and she's learning Dark Magic from Lord Thingy-whatever."
Potter moved to a sitting position and sighed. "I should've said something. Maybe you'd have known ages earlier... but I've seen her, dozens of times. She hasn't taken the Dark Mark, but she's at his side. When I dream about him... he doesn't look scary and snake-like anymore. He's taken on a glamour."
"I've read about those," Dawn murmured. "He's covering up his true form, is that it?"
"He looks as he did when he was a student," Potter explained. "Just older. Not inhuman."
"Willow would know better than to learn from someone who looked like a monster..." Dawn paused. "At least, I think she would. The mayor turned into a giant snake and they knew better than to listen to him. But she's trusting. She always has been. And if the Hellmouth magics messed with her... God only knows what she'll end up doing." She gave a sigh and buried her face in her hands.
Harry patted her shoulder hesitantly. "Er. I don't... have a sister or a dad or... well, anyone. But... I know some people who've gone Dark, and most of them come back."
Dawn scowled. "Somehow, that isn't helpful."
"Right." Harry backed up. "Look. I'll go... get something. Yeah."
"Something. Right." Dawn gave a snort and opened her History of Magic text back up, ignoring Harry as he retreated. What a pain it all was – Goblins rebelling right and left, British monarchs who wanted to try their hand at ruling the mystical world, wars about religion dividing wizards right and left. No wonder Volde-whozit was having such an easy time of it. Factions had been building for thousands of years, here!
It didn't help that the professor kept calling her "Dorothy Gills" who, according to Professor Dumbledore, had been a student there when Professor Binns died and left his body to keep teaching. Dorothy Gills, however, had been a Hufflepuff and without trying, she'd managed to have five points subtracted from the other House because she threw a pencil through the ghost to see if it would make it. Not that she really cared, anyway – she wondered what the Hufflepuffs would think when they got to Hogwarts in seven days to find themselves five points in the hole.
History of Magic was her final catch-up class, beyond Potions. Apparently a substitute for that had been found, and the witch (or wizard; Dawn didn't actually know which) would be arriving in a few days, whereupon she'd begin her lessons. She'd be ages behind the others, then, but Potter claimed she'd still be ahead of Neville Longbottom, who was in his year. And now, with Willow in the hands of Volder-warts himself, studying was even harder.
"What witch enjoyed the Inquisition? What? Why would someone enjoy the Inquisition?" Dawn scowled down at the sheet in front of her.
"The answer to that question would be Wendelin the Weird," came a voice from over her shoulder. "I do believe she enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be captured no fewer than fourty times."
Dawn spun about in her chair and launched herself to her feet. "Dad!" she squealed, the name no longer seeming out of place in the midst of things. No one else was in the Common Room; she could've just as easily called him 'Giles' without ill affect. "You're here! You're alive! Are – are you okay?" She backed up, noting dark smudges under his eyes and several scratches on his face. "What happened to you? You didn't come right back after visiting home! Did Lord Whats-his-thingy hurt you?"
He let out a low chuckle. "I'm alright, Dawn, really. I had to sneak back into the school by way of a... more roundabout method. Tripped on some roots on the way in. If one of His spies caught sight of me here, all the work I've done thus far would be ruined... not to mention the fact that Severus would likely be executed before dawn."
"Severus? Is that the Snape guy's first name? Weird."
Another laugh. "Weirder than Rupert? I'd doubt that highly."
"At least you're not named Dawn. I think Mom must've been tripping when she thought up my name." She made a face, then winced when she realized what she'd dragged up. "Sometimes – sometimes I forget she's not still here, you know?"
"It's clichÈ... but she'll always be here," Giles murmured, patting his chest above his heart. "I'm sorry I got you into all this, Dawn. You should be in Sunnydale, readying yourself for the school year, not here learning everything you've missed."
Dawn shrugged. "I don't mind it. It's... it's better, not being there, where everything reminds me of them. This is me. This is something they never did. Something they won't get the chance to experience, but something that's all mine. When I'm walking down the hall here, I'm not constantly being reminded that Mom and Buffy are gone." She walked over to close up her textbook and shut her bottle of ink. "It's not so bad. After all, I've got Potter to torture. At home, I was the only one my age."
"Write them," Dad suggested. "Use one of the school owls, or borrow Professor Dumbledore's phoenix. I'm sure Fawkes would be delighted to make a short trip to Sunnydale. It's much faster for him, you know..." He trailed off. "I'm sorry. I'm babbling, trying to draw this out... I have to go undercover for a length of time. I may come to visit here at the school, to speak to Dumbledore, but I'll be disguised. I won't be able to talk to you."
"Do you really have to hide?" The thought of being alone – truly alone, for the first time in as long as she could remember – was beyond disturbing. It was heartrending and gutwrenching.
Somehow, he seemed to know just what she was thinking. "Lucius knows the truth. I tried to fight him. However, you won't be alone..." Dad cut himself off again, reaching over to straighten Dawn's tie and smooth down her hair. "You don't need my suggestions. You'll find Slytherin quite to your liking, I assume."
"Yeah, Slytherin, great," Dawn said offhandedly, hurrying on to her next question. "Are you gonna find Willow? Are you gonna send her here, so Dumbledore can help her?"
Dad winced. He took a seat on the crimson sofa and drew Dawn over to sit next to him. "Willow is ... my objective isn't to find Willow. I'm to find Severus and find a way to free him without getting myself killed in the process... and Willow wasn't a part of the plan. From what Remus and Moody have been able to piece together -"
"Moody?" Dawn asked shortly.
He shook his head. "Old Auror. He's not fond of me – he's very much of the opinion that every Death Eater should serve time in prison, even those of us who simply made a bad choice and repented – but I've learned to work with him. Anyway, from what Remus and Moody can tell, she's been treated as a queen. Like the Dark Lord's right hand, likely to Lucius' chagrin, or perhaps a mistress... heaven knows, we hope the disgusting creature can't reproduce..."
"But what about Tara?" she burst in. "Willow loves Tara! She wouldn't hurt T ara for anything!"
"Dark magic changes people," Dad whispered. He was rubbing the spot over his Dark Mark again, as though it pained him somehow to speak ill of the Dark Lord, even in such a roundabout fashion. "If she's gone too deep, her morals have been corrupted as well. One cannot touch evil without being fundamentally changed." The glance he gave her was sobering; full of regret and anguish, sorrow and guilt. "The things I did... I never gave it a second thought, at the time. The thrill of the power, of using that much magic in any way I saw fit – so long as the Dark Lord agreed with me, of course – it was such a rush... liberating, after growing up in a conservative household among servants of the Light. I was young, brash. I was Ripper. It was a persona I crafted very carefully over my years in Slytherin. That personality, that... that ME is still somewhere at my core. However, due to the crimes I committed, the me inside was altered to someone more thoughtful, more somber, and – hopefully – someone more accepting of difference. I have not yet begun to repay my debt for the things I did, when I was someone else."
Dawn stared at the backs of her hands. "That's just a long way of saying that Willow's gone all bitch queen and won't be coming back, right? That she's as dead as Buffy?"
He paused, mouth hanging over, seemingly at a loss as to an answer... but then he simply nodded. "Should she pose a threat to the removal of Severus from the location, there is nothing I can do but... remove the threat."
"But if she's not a threat? If you get Snape out... will someone try to bring her home?" Dawn closed her eyes. "Willow and Xander are the only connections I have left to Buffy."
"She was preparing a Dark spell to bring Buffy back; a spell which probably would've backfired," Dad reminded her.
Dawn shrugged. "Yeah, maybe she was. She's family, though. We don't let family get brainwashed, do we?"
"It's too late to stop the brainwashing. It's already happened." He shook his head, reaching over to brush her hair out of her face. "I don't want to lose her either, Dawn, but she's not Willow anymore. Not our Willow, at least, as far as Remus' contacts can tell. It's better to say goodbye now, before she puts you in danger."
"When are you leaving?" Dawn asked abruptly. She stared down to the textbook in her hands, avoiding Dad's gaze.
"Now," he said simply. "I've granted custody to Remus, should anything happen. Hopefully, this will all be finished by Christmas."
It seemed an age away. "Christmas," she repeated. The joy of that season seemed an odd companion to her despair and fear, at the moment. And then, Dad's words hit home. "Wait – you granted custody to Lupin? What does that mean?"
"It's just a preventative measure," he muttered, and snagged his glasses off his face to clean them on the edge of his robe. "Just – in case I should be k-killed in all this – I wouldn't want the American authorites to have their way, and naming a guardian -"
Dawn shook her head, abrupty cutting him off. "You don't think you're going to come back, do you. This is – you're saying goodbye like you're never going to see me again. Like Buffy, on the platform. She told me..." She trailed off, mind reflecting the words. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. "I've only just gotten used to things being the way they are, and now you want to leave me too?"
Maybe she sounded bitter, maybe angry. Her heart felt too dead to identify her tone. Dad looked guilty. "I don't want to leave, Dawn, but it's... it's my redemption. When I was no older than Buffy, I chose to do terrible things. I hated. I tortured. I pillaged. I – I murdered noncombatants. I was a horrible, vile person. By all rights, my last twenty years should've been spent in Azkaban Prison. I'd done enough... my sentence likely would've been the Dementor's Kiss, which is far worse than execution. For near twenty years, I managed to escape my past... but now, I have to pay, one way or another, for the sins I committed."
"Why is Dumbledore sending you on a suicide mission after a grouchy old teacher?" she whispered. Her voice didn't seem to want to obey her commands and her face was wet.
There was more guilt. "Because..." He lowered his voice to a murmur. "I think Severus is his son, as you are my daughter. There is no tie of blood, but Albus is responsible for Severus' actions, in a way... and Albus is very deeply pained by Severus' loss." He sighed, carefully brushing a lock of hair from Dawn's forehead. Though anger drove her to pull back, some deeper need for human touch sent her leaning in to the touch. For all she knew, it could be the last time they spent in each other's company. "You will not believe this now. Later, perhaps... But I'm not just doing this as a favour to Albus or to pay back my debts. I'm doing this to make this place a safe world for you to live in. Sunnydale was not. With V-V-Voldemort on the loose, nowhere can be safe. Though Harry Potter must destroy him, I can do my best to weaken him. Though I may not see the end of my action, I will die knowing I did it to make your life safe."
"I don't like Potter. He's stuck up and sarcastic and – Let's run away, let's go to Canada, like we were planning," Dawn begged.
But he shook his head. "I have to go, Dawn. This is my gift. I cannot tell you of my mission, beyong the objective to rescue Severus... Mind Remus and Tonks, don't fight with Harry too often, and be wary of Malfoys bringing gifts. Do well in your classes... you will have such a future, Dawn. Make the most of it."
She was pleading for him to stay, crying and holding the edge of his robe. But after a hug and a kiss to her forehead, he pried himself away and was gone; and she was left crumpled on a couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. She saw Potter peeking in, watching her, but her grief at losing another parent was too much to bear. She wept.
------
He wasn't sure if Giles knew he'd been sitting on the dormitory steps for the past half hour, holding the Chocolate Frog he'd been bringing down for her, but he felt unable to move. She wasn't a friend. Far from it, actually – come the first of September, she'd be the enemy. Well, partially the enemy. She was a Slytherin, but her father was furthering the cause of the Light. Should he die...
Should Rupert Giles die, Dawn would come under the protection of Remus Lupin. The thought gave Harry pause. He'd been under the impression that being a werewolf made Lupin unfit to be a guardian; otherwise, why wouldn't he be Lupin's ward, rather than Tonks'? Tonks wasn't bad, after all, but she wasn't old enough to really be a mother... though Sirius, as Dumbledore had commented, had been more a brother than a father to him...
If having Lupin for a guardian wouldn't mean the death of her father, Harry thought he might envy Dawn Giles. Surely being a werewolf wouldn't be too much of a problem, especially with Giles being old enough to care for herself when the moon was full. Lupin was easily the smartest person Harry knew, with Hermione as a close second. And though he felt guilty to think it, Rupert Giles dying in the attempt likely meant Snape wouldn't be returning from Voldemort's clutches either.
There was a side of the man Harry refused to see, and that was the side that created a monster of his father and Sirius. Harry would never be able to forgive him for giving him doubts... and with Sirius dead, the doubts were still there. Why had his mother married his father, when Snape's memory showed how much she loathed him? Why was she so sympathetic to Snape, of all people? And why, when he needed one the most, did Harry find himself devoid of a mother?
Giles had lost her mother, her sister, and her father had just left on a suicide mission. Perhaps her grief really was as great as his own. And though they weren't friends, and he was at a loss when girls started crying around him... maybe he needed a bit of a cry, as well.
Just not where Ron could learn of it.
He eased himself up off the stairs and tiptoed down into the Common Room, trying not to disturb Giles too much. Her sobs seemed to have tapered off, a bit. Rather than wracking her whole frame, delicate and tiny compared to his Quidditch-toned body, an intermittant sniff filled the air. "Giles?" he whispered. It came out more a squeak, and he cleared his throat softly. She hadn't turned her head. "Er – Dawn?"
That finally caught her attention, and she turned to him, wiping her red eyes with the heel of her hand. "What do you want? I thought you'd run off -"
"I want to help," he said, cutting her off before she managed to say something to anger him. She was just so irritating – it was hard to keep from flying off the handle around her. "My godfather – you knew that, already, of course, but he – it hurts, doesn't it? And just when you need them most, they've already gone and left."
"Yeah," she whispered. She pulled her knees to her chest and started rocking against the back of the couch slowly. "But he's not dead, not yet. And I don't know if I'll ever know for sure that he's gone. With my sister... she jumped, right into this portal, and there was all this blue energy. I could see her h-hurting."
The sobs started again, and Harry found himself compelled to hug her. He wasn't a physical person – the only touches in the youth he could remember were a very few painfully administered by Uncle Vernon as a punishment or Dudley because he was nearby. However, holding Giles like that seemed something Mrs. Weasley would do, or something his own mother would've done, had she been there when he cried. "She fell?" he murmured back, barely making noise. "Sirius fell – he fell, and then he was gone, no body."
"Sh-she fell, and she was hurting. And then she just went- went st-stiff, and still. And she fell. Her b-body hit the ground, and even up on the building like I was, I could hear the thud, and I knew she was dead, and – and – I should've jumped, Harry, it should've been me!"
I shouldn't have asked Cedric to take the cup with me; I should've died. It should've been me. His own mantra was eerily familiar. "She died so you could live," he said simply. That hadn't been true with Cedric; however, maybe he should take a bit of his own advice. Voldemort's order had killed the Hufflepuff. Harry had not. Maybe it was time to accept that. "It shouldn't have been you. You're here now. You've got magic to learn. You've a world of good to do, that only you can do."
"But I can't do it alone..." She trailed off, fingers intertwined with the crisp white collar of Harry's school uniform shirt, and red-rimmed eyes fixed out the window. "I want my mom."
It would've been so easy to say something to hurt her. She was vulnerable, and somehow that was endearing. "I want my mum, too. But she died to save me, and so – I've got to do what I think she'd have wanted." And, suddenly, that made their situations all the more similar. They both had legacies to live up to; hers of her sister, his of two who fought Voldemort to the very end. Harry gave a long sigh, shaking his head. "This would've been much easier, had you been a Gryffindor."
"Maybe," she said shortly, pulling away. "And maybe it would've been easier had you been what you were supposed to be; a Slytherin."
He could feel another argument coming on. His anger was rising, and of late it was a force to be reckoned. However, before she could retreat completely, he wound his fingers around her upper arms to keep her in place. "Don't do this. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up the House thing. This is all hard to come to terms with – by all means, I'm supposed to be your enemy."
"I'm meant to redeem my House," she said. "I think I'm meant to show them what Dark Magic can do. I don't know if I can, though... I'm just a Muggle-raised girl in a place where everyone else has known magic for ages. I don't know people, I don't know the ettiquette, I don't know who's on top of the pile -"
"You'll learn," Harry said, finally. He pulled her back into another hug. "You'll do it for your dad, if for nothing else. You'll make him proud."
The abrupt change of topic sent her into another emotional down. "He won't live to see it."
There was a long silence, until Harry ran a hand through her hair and gave a sad smile. "There's still a chance, however small it might be."
"Harry, I lost my mom and my sister within a few months of each other. My sister..." she choked on the words, and merely shook her head to give herself a moment to compose herself. "I don't want to be alone. Mom and Buffy and Dad... and Dad..." Harry wasn't sure why she was repeating herself, but she took a deep breath and continued, "Now Willow might be evil, and she's been like another sister since we moved to Sunnydale. I can't go back there for long, it'll mess with my magic, so I won't see Xander or Anya or Tara... or Spike... Spike loved my sister, and she's dead, and I'm not there to keep him from doing anything stupid. I didn't even get to say good-bye to him, and... I'm gonna lose Dad, too, and I'll be all alone in this world, and I don't know anything about it, and I'm so scared -" She choked again and, this time, stopped talking.
Harry sighed and cradled her against his shoulder. "You won't be alone. You're going to find friends in Slytherin, I'm sure. It will be difficult, I'm afraid – but they'll be your House, your family. That's the way it's always been."
"What if I don't want them for friends?" she whispered. Her voice grew louder, muffled by Harry's shoulder. "I want to make Dad proud, but what if I don't want everybody to hate me because I'm with evil people? Maybe – maybe I'm cunning and whatever, but I'm not evil! Soon, you won't ever talk to me again, and -"
Without putting much thought into his actions, Harry pushed Dawn back, so that he could look into her face. "I will talk to you. I promise you."
"I'm sorry, Potter, but I just can't believe you. You're afraid of being friends with a Slytherin. Do you think I'm really evil, deep down, even though you're supposed to be a Slytherin, too? Do you think I'd forget the way you treated me when you found out I'd been Sorted there? I'm not quite so naÔve as you'd expect, Harry Potter – my sister was the Slayer. I've fought things you'd never imagine -"
He told himself later that he did it to stop her from talking, before she managed to get him truly angry. At the time, however, anger was far from his thoughts. In the middle of her sentence, he dragged her closer and sealed his lips on hers.
It was much nicer than when he'd kissed Cho. First of all, it was less wet – though Dawn had been crying, something was different about it. Secondly, it was soft. Her lips were covered in some glossy girly something, and it was fruity smelling. She was soft, too – her hair cascaded over his hands, and he released her sholders, only to caress down her back to hold her waist instead. Unlike the kiss with Cho, he didn't want this to stop.
His hands on her waist, he tugged her forward, and the length of her body leaned against him, curves and all. This was most definitely not something that was intended for the Common Room but he found that for once he didn't really care what other people thought. Slytherin or no, he realized she'd been right about everything.
After a long moment – but not long enough, to his mind – she pulled away, and he whimpered from the loss of her lips. "We shouldn't, not here, not now." She stepped back, and Harry let his hands fall to his hips.
"Why not now?" Harry sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry. If you didn't want me to kiss you, I mean. I'll just – go now."
Harry took a step back, but Dawn shook her head. She reached up slowly and touched her lips. "That's not what I meant, Harry. I just... that was my first kiss. It was very nice, don't get me wrong. I'm just not ready to do any more than that. I've lost my mom, and my sister, and my dad..."
"It's okay," Harry said. He held out his hand. When she took it, he led her over to the couch in front of the fireplace. She curled up at his side, leaning into him as though her form was meant to be there. "We can just sit. Maybe we can watch the sunset."
"I'd like that," Dawn said. Harry wiped her tears away with the sleeve of his shirt and, together, they stared into the fire.
------
Rupert Giles tightened the knot keeping his cloak steady. Many years had gone by since he'd worn such a cloak – long and black, with a deep hood. The mask was familiar, too, in its own sinister way.
At his elbow, Kingsley Shacklebolt frowned, though his face resembled that of Homer Hammerstein, a Death Eater now languishing in the Order's care. "I have a bad feeling about this, mate."
"Did you take Divination?" Rupert asked. He appeared to be Iscariot Lestrange, definitely the more dangerous guise of the two. Bellatrix, Iscariot's insane wife, would likely spot the difference in an instant.
"Not likely," Kingsley snorted. "It's a load of twat."
He smirked. "Then, as I highly doubt you're a seer, perhaps you're simply a bit nervous?"
"Let's just go," Kingsley muttered. "We've 53 minutes before the next dose is due."
"Indeed," Rupert said, and they Apparated to the location Iscariot had provided.
It was a dank mansion, one that had been used for meetings even in Rupert's time. It took only a moment for him to remember the layout of the surroundings. There would be a throne chamber up ahead, where the Dark Lord would likely lounge. They'd have to avoid that. The door to the right of that would lead down to the old dungeons while affording a quick peek into the sitting room of the Dark Lord's private chambers through a chink in the wall. Rupert gave a polite nod to a cloaked but unmasked Death Eater whom he didn't recognize and made a beeline for the door, closing the two of them into the antechamber.
Kingsley was at his elbow as they slipped into the room. "Rupes – that was -"
Rupert clamped a hand over the Auror's mouth and shook his head frantically. He pointed to the peephole, tiny and largely hidden by a tapestry. "Voldemort's room," he mouthed and let Kingsley peek first.
The Auror took a long moment before letting Rupert lean in. He almost blew their cover with a shout – in the center of the room, holding a familiar urn, was Willow. The lights were dimmed, and he could only pick out the bare outlines of three more shapes. "Tom, are you sure it was her father's body? The wrong bone would give us the wrong resurrection," she said.
Out of the shadows stepped a man Rupert didn't recognize – dark hair, radiant green eyes, in his late thirties. The vibe of evil gave away what memory couldn't. It was unmistakably the Dark Lord. "I promise you, my dear. He was killed earlier this summer, by the hand of one of my associates... he'd been digging into things that didn't concern him. That is a bone of Hank Summers."
Willow smiled broadly, the sort of innocent smile she'd worn in the time before Jenny's death. "Excellent. Only three ingredients short. I'm worried we'll run out of time."
"Never, luv. I promise, your friend will be back by tomorrow. She'll be glad to join us." The Dark Lord knelt down – Rupert had never seen the man kneel for anyone – and kissed Willow's cheek. "Never fear, luv. Never fear."
Rupert stepped back, in shock. Somehow, rescuing poor Severus seemed a great deal less important.