Chapter 17: Revelations

There are times in a man's life when instinct overrides all other senses and he moves with agility and speed. For Giles, this was not one of those times. He stared dumbly at the wand that threatened him with a cross-eyed, vagrant expression. It was several moments before his clouded hazel eyes traveled up the length of the wand and saw who the man who threatened him.

Giles had seen a number of ugly and cretinous beings, but none had ever struck with a sense of loathing and utter desire to wreck violence then the man standing before him. He was shorter then Giles, by nearly a full head, with a round ruddy face and mousy grey-brown hair. His eyes were dark and tiny, giving them a beady look in the full face. His mouth was drawn and appeared to be formed in a perpetual snivel, and his tiny nose flared as though he tasted the air for something no other could discern.

A sniveling smile was now on his face as he regarded Giles and it was all the Watcher could do to keep himself from launching at his brother's betrayer. "Oh, Ripper, how long has it been?"

"Too long you rats a...," Giles trailed off as the tip of Pettigrew's wand dug deeply into his throat. The anger mildly cleared the effects of the alcohol from his mind.

"Pettigrew," Harry ground out, leveling his wand at the older wizard.

"I wouldn't use that if I were you, Harry. Unless you want to see another family member destroyed by a killing curse," Pettigrew warned, his tone high-pitched and shaking. "This doesn't have to end with a death."

Giles hazel eyes were burning clear by the moment, adrenalin overriding the scotch in his blood. "What do you want?"

"It's what my Lord wants," Pettigrew answered and turned his empty gaze towards Harry.

Harry didn't notice the implication he was too infused with anger, his hands were clutched at his side the knuckles nearly white and his green eyes looking as though they could kill. That sort of unmitigated hatred acted upon could get his nephew killed, Giles would have to resolve this situation quickly. If only he could get his mind working on a plan. A small voice, one that hadn't yet been brought to stupor by alcohol yelled at him to stall.

The Watcher shook his head and regretted the wave of vertigo that sloshed over him. "Harry's not going anywhere. You aren't taking him and Voldemort won't have him."

"It's a little late to be playing the hero now, Rupert," Pettigrew hissed. "Either I kill you and the boy comes with me or he saves your life and comes with me willingly."

The Watcher was well aware that Harry would most likely opt for the latter rather than the former and it instilled Giles with fear. He managed to lock eyes with his irascible nephew, with Pettigrew's wand still drilling into the skin under his chin. "Harry when he kills me incapacitate him as quickly as you can."

"No, I'm not going to let him take another life. Not after everything he's done," his nephew said with a rebellious air.

"Do as I tell you," Giles snapped, his voice raised in frightened anger. This wasn't just a vampire or a demon, something he knew how to deal with, this was a wizard who had been responsible for the death of his brother and sister-in-law. He turned his raging gaze to Peter. "Kill me!"

"I'll go with you," Harry shouted. "Just don't kill him."

The young wizard started forward. But Pettigrew stopped him with a warning. "Drop your wand, Potter. I don't want any surprises."

"I know how difficult this must be, Harry, but if you drop that wand and go with him, you'll be sealing the fate of thousands of wizards and Muggles," Giles said, filling his mind getting a little clearer. "You can't allow your emotions to guide you in this instance. A life must be given to save thousands more."

Pettigrew's expression changed to one of reproach as he gazed at Giles. "You know all about that don't you, Ripper."

Giles heart skipped a beat as he deciphered Pettigrew's meaning. Randall, the sacrificial lamb to destroy Eyghon, they had been forced to end his life when the demon could not be exercised. It was the defining event that had cause Rupert to leave black magic behind and return to his study as a Watcher. It had shown him the dangers of the mystical world in a different manner then the Council.

It had been a part of his haunted past he had only touched upon with Harry, he had wanted to wait until he and Harry had become better acquainted to go further into the past. Now Pettigrew was going to bring it out in the ugliest of lights.

"It was a difficult lesson," Giles murmured, wondering how in the heavens Peter had learned of this part of his past. Not even Remus knew all of it. "One he will have to learn if he is to defeat Voldemort."

"What is he talking about?" Harry said, running an agitated hand through his messed hair, a gesture that was so purely James.

Giles tried to work moisture into a suddenly dried mouth. "I killed a man," he gritted out between teeth clenched so tightly that for a moment he was sure he would shatter them. It was better to hear from him then from Pettigrew.

The wand nearly slipped from Harry's fingers as he paled at this news. "Yo...you what?"

"I killed a man. We had summoned a demon's essence to provide us with a magical high, when it came time for that essence to retreat, he clung to a friend of mine named Randall," Giles said in a flat tone afraid that if he didn't his self-loathing from that night would overwhelm him. "The demon, Eyghon, was planning on using Randall as his host. He had sustained himself in the body well enough to maintain his purchase on this plane. If I hadn't stopped him, he would have destroyed countless other lives. I had no choice."

Harry turned desolate eyes on him. "You're no better then he is," he accused, waving his wand vaguely at Pettigrew. "You murdered someone to save your own life."

"Drop your wand Potter," Pettigrew ordered, his wand now shaking against Giles' neck.

A range of conflicting emotions warred on Harry's face. I should have told him before this, Giles thought weakly. There was no way to reverse time and change all that had happened in his youth, but he suddenly wished there was.

"I think you just lost your leverage, Pettigrew," Giles hissed, wanting to extract his vengeance on the rotund body.

"Shut up, both of you," Harry snapped, his wand shaking at Pettigrew. "He's right, I can't let you kill any more innocence." He used his freehand to wipe at his sweaty brow.

"Harry no!" Giles cried, the fog of alcohol not able to block out the importance of the shared blood on Harry's forehead.

But it was too late, the blood and the seal of magic had been broken, leaving Harry vulnerable to Voldemort's mind manipulation. Voldemort must have been waiting for it and Harry let out a high-pitched scream. It was then that instinct overrode Giles' scotch-induced lethargy and he moved as fast as any human could. With his left hand, he deflected Pettigrew's wand to the ground and used his right to punch the rat in his wretched face.

Pettigrew didn't have a chance. He pitched over as though he were a limbless dummy, falling to the floor in a heap of matted and dirty robes. Giles was torn, rooted in place, as he tried to decide what next to do. Under normal circumstances he was decisive, but his mind was muddled, making his reaction time delayed. If he didn't resume the spell, Harry would be vulnerable to the dark wizard, but if he didn't take care of Pettigrew they would both be vulnerable to his wand.

"Good show, Giles," he muttered, as Pettigrew scurried to his feet.

The traitorous wizard brandished his wand at Giles and cursed, "Ava..."

"Petrificus Totalus." a feminine voice roared and Peter stiffened and tumbled back to the ground. Giles whirled towards the origin the spell had come from and saw a sleep disheveled Hermione with her wand steadily pointed at the frozen Peter.

"How long does the spell last?" Giles asked, running to Harry's side.

"Until I or someone else releases him," Hermione answered.

Giles veered just short of Harry and turned to his weapons trunk, throwing the lid off the top and pulling out one of the ornate throwing knives. His palms weren't likely to provide the blood he would need for the spell and he ran the blade of his forearm before settling next to Harry's spasming form. His scar had already cracked open and was oozing a fair amount of red blood.

"There's a length of rope inside the weapons trunk, get Ron and tie the rat up," Giles ordered, pressing his forearm to Harry's forehead. With a shuddering breath he felt the cold presence of Voldemort.

"You cannot protect him forever, Watcher," Harry's mouth moved, but it wasn't his settling voice that echoed out into the apartment.

Giles mouth twisted into an angry sneer. "You won't have him. You won't destroy him, not like James. There are more terrible things in this world than you and I will not cower."

"The last speech before the end," Voldemort laughed through Harry, a pop hissing sound. "He hates what you are, what you did. How will you protect someone who despises you."

"Like this," Giles ground out, before he closed his eyes and placed his blood soaked hand on Harry's bleeding forehead. He began a different chant then the one he originally planned. "Thine enemy is mine enemy. Let flesh and breath, heart and blood be one." The spell began to burn the alcohol from his blood and cleared his clouded mind, making it easier to concentrate. "And thine affliction become mine. The conduit and the home. Through flesh and bone. In me let thy enemy reside."

Against the dark wizards will his mind flew through Harry's and into Giles' knocking him to the ground. He felt Voldemort try to take control of his body but the spell would not allow it. Giles felt his limbs gone numb and limp as his body shut down to hold the dark wizard.

With trembling fingers Harry pressed the digits that would connect him to the Summers' residence, watching with a strange numb detachment as his uncle's chest rose up and down shallowly. Ron and Hermione were binding Peter's arms and legs, even though he'd been petrified by Hermione's spell. It didn't seem very prudent, even if they decided to release the enchantment, he could just morph into a rat and make his escape that way.

The phone rang and the sound might as well have been made by a gong the way it echoed inside Harry's strained mind, filling up the empty spaces. It made his already queasy stomach want to empty its contents and he clutched the phone receiver until his knuckles stood out against the green color. Was Buffy already in bed or had she gone out on patrol? Where was Professor Lupin? Perhaps he should have called Xander or Willow or even Angel. He knew Uncle Rupert had the vampire's phone number hidden somewhere.

Just as he was about to despair and hang up the phone, a cheerful voice answered, "Summers' residence."

"Mrs. Summers is Buffy home?" Harry asked, hoping that his voice didn't sound as tremulous as the rest of him.

"Harry is that you? She went to bed about an hour ago," Mrs. Summers answered, her voice lowering in concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Well.." he drew out the word, racking his brain for some excuse that would allow Buffy to come over to her librarian's flat without giving too much away to her mother. He knew that Joyce Summers was still unaware of her daughters late night activities.

He was saved an answer by a deep male voice that he heard only as a grumbling background. "Harry," Professor Lupin's voice came over the receiver suddenly, asking sharply. "Are you alright?"

"Its Uncle Rupert," Harry stuttered out, feeling tears prick his eyes. He was so confused. His uncle had just saved his life, but he also just discovered that Rupert Giles had a blackened past. He wasn't the man he appeared to be. How could he have not told me?

"You and Rupert made it home safe?" Lupin asked in a casual tone and Harry envied his ability to push aside the truth.

"We did but I couldn't sleep, so I went to fix a cup of hot chocolate," Harry was rambling now, but he didn't care. He sniffed down tears before continuing. "Uncle Rupert was researching and the door rang. It was Pettigrew, Remus. He came here to kill Uncle Rupert or to take me to Voldemort."

"No don't wait up for me," Lupin said and Harry wasn't sure how to decipher this part of the conversation. "I should be home in a few minutes." He added in a far away voice, addressing Mrs. Summers. "If that's alright with you Joyce?"

Harry coughed out a breath that mysteriously sounded close to a sob. "He won't wake up." Just inside his perception Ron and Hermione were watching him with open worry.

"Is the rat still in the house?" Remus asked in soothing tone, but Harry could hear the edge of malice to it.

Nodding, even though Lupin couldn't see him, Harry answered, "Hermione petrified him. They've got him tied up."

"Tell Rupert that I'll be home soon," the werewolf said. "And look to the dust bin beside the fireplace to dispose of the rat."

"You want me to contact Dumbledore?" Harry asked his mind not sure if he was making conclusions that he wanted or if it was truly what Remus wanted. Dumbledore certainly had more experience then anyone here in Sunnydale.

"Yes, Harry, very good. I'll be right there," Remus affirmed in his casual speech.

Harry felt a small amount of relief with Lupin heading his way back. "Hurry," he whispered.

"I will," the werewolf added before hanging up.

Still dazed, Harry placed the receiver back in its cradled. His eyes couldn't quite leave Uncle Rupert's prone body. There was still blood on his uncle's right arm and his hazel eyes were open, staring without seeing the ceiling above him. Harry knew that he had blood on his own eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose and that he should probably get cleaned up. It was a strange thought, for Harry had never cared for such things before.

"What did Professor Lupin say?" Hermione asked, coming between Harry and his direct sight on Uncle Rupert.

"We need to get Dumbledore," Harry offered. "He said we should look to the dustbin next to the fireplace."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a questioning look. Each were dressed in pajamas with hair and clothing rumpled from sleep. It was lucky that Hermione's room, the guest bedroom, had been closer to the living area or Uncle Rupert may have been dead already. Not that he was much better now.

It was his redheaded friend that stepped forward. "Why don't you let us do that, Mate. You look right off your feet."

The two didn't wait for him to answer but leaped over Pettigrew , Hermione returning to the guest room and Ron to the room he had shared been sharing with Harry. They returned quickly and knelt before the fire. But Harry didn't watch them to closely, Uncle Rupert's quiet form had once again snagged his attention.

He walked slowly next to him, before lowering to his knees. Those hazel eyes which had always showed an amount of love for Harry whether commanding or gentle, were now empty and lifeless. The young wizard would have feared him lost if it weren't for the steady, shallow breaths that caused Uncle Rupert's chest to rise.

He wanted to close those eyes, to run his hand over them and shut the lids gently so he wouldn't have to see those same eyes so listless. Morbidly, his hands moved of their own accord and the thumbs slide the thin curtains of skin down over those eyes. This was better. He was just sleeping now, not on the cusp of death.

"I don't understand you," Harry whispered, not sure if the man next to him could hear him or not. "I don't understand any of this."

There was no reply, no comforting words, just a pregnant silence between Harry and his uncle and the buzzing sound of Ron and Hermione talking with Professor Dumbledore. It was like Sirius all over again. Someone who loved and cared for him had thrown himself over the ticking bomb, giving Harry a little more time before the next one came, time to stop Voldemort. Except Harry didn't know how exactly he could stop the dark wizard. A boy against a man who by rights should have died long ago.

Anger and hatred seethed through him, companions he had not felt in the weeks he'd lived with Uncle Rupert, Voldemort and Pettigrew had stolen the contentment from him. Something that not even the Dementors had been able to do.

He longed for a guiding hand and the ten minutes it took Remus to show up at the door were inexorable, lasting for what seemed eternities. Hermione and Ron approached it cautiously with their wands out in a characterization of cops about to make a bust on the latest drug lords. Ron nodded for Hermione to open the door and she flung it open wide. Each of their wands jutting out at Lupin as though they were the business ends of pistols.

The werewolf gave them a dubious look before tossing hand in farewell, then quickly moved in doors. "Who did you expect it to be?"

Hermione and Ron gave him chagrined shrugs. "This place is crazier then Professor Lockhart," Ron offered the excuse lamely.

Lupin gave them a quick grin before turning to Harry and Uncle Rupert. His eyes only briefly scanned over Pettigrew, giving a distasteful snort towards the man. Professor Lupin hunched down next to him and his eyes settled on the blood on the Watcher's forearm. "Tell me what happened?"

Harry did, he explained Uncle Rupert's drunken self-loathing, the sudden arrival of Pettigrew and the rat's revelation, Harry's own harsh words to the man who had probably just given his life for Harry's, and then his stupid mistake in breaking the spell that held Voldemort at bay.

Lupin accepted it with a bent ear, nodding when he felt Harry needed encouragement and just waiting patiently when Harry paused. When he finished, the werewolf shook his head. "But the blood spell never affected him like this."

"The spell was different," Ron muttered. "I only heard part of the one he used before, when Voldemort first tried to take over his mind, but the words were different in this one."

Harry nodded. "It just didn't throw Voldemort out of my mind. Uncle Rupert took him out and he's in there now." Green eyes flicked to the man behind him. "Shouldn't we move him from the floor?"

"Let's wait until Dumbledore arrives," Lupin suggested. "I'm not an expert on ritualistic magic and I'm not sure if it's location derived or not. Better not to move him before we're sure."

"Professor Dumbledore studied Wiccan magic?" Harry asked, his mind somehow coalesced around that one thought. If Dumbledore knew the type of magic that Uncle Rupert had used on Voldemort than the aged wizard could get rid of the dark wizard before he did any harm to the Watcher.

Absently, Lupin nodded. "Not aggressively, but he knows the basic theories of how it works. In fact it is a much harder discipline then our own, because the magic doesn't originally dwell in the person who uses it. There concentration must be acute." He grasped Harry by the shoulder's and raked his pale gaze over the boy's trembling body. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm not the one with Voldemort inside of him right now," Harry said drained.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked.

Rising, Lupin breathed a heavy sigh. "We wait."

"What did you tell Buffy?" Harry asked, his mind turning to the blonde girl who had so recently avoided a tragedy of her own.

"We'll have to inform her in the morning," Lupin answered off-handedly.

"She doesn't know?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Lupin shook his head in the negative. "I couldn't very well ask her mum to wake her because her Watcher had been attacked by a dark wizard now could I?"

Harry's attention wavered back to his prone uncle, mainly to the clean left hand where a black ring adorned the Watcher's pinky finger. He only realized now that Uncle Rupert had never been without it and belatedly wondered what it meant.

"This is all my fault," he muttered, feeling the weight of so many deaths weighing on his shoulders. "I can't just wait. There must be something I can do. Put Voldemort back where he belongs."

"He doesn't belong in your mind, Harry," Hermione countered softly.

"Well, he bloody well doesn't belong in his," Harry snapped.

The others, the werewolf and his best friends, paused at Harry's outburst. Tears were brimming in Hermione's eyes, Ron was struggling with whether he should he angry at Harry for snapping at them or sorry for him for nearly losing another part of his family, where Lupin remained concerned and withdrawn. They all stood there, silently watching each other, unsure of how to break the hush.

"Rupert must have known what he was doing," Remus finally said into the pause. "There's a plan in his actions. He wouldn't have left you without a reason, wouldn't have left Buffy. We have to remain calm until we figure out what that is."

Harry was about to reply to this but was cut off by the sound of a contracting air. In the next moment, Professor Dumbledore stood in the middle of living room, between Pettigrew and Uncle Rupert. "Perhaps I can be of some help with that."

"Where is he?" Buffy asked the next morning as she came bursting into the flat without knocking. Ron and Hermione were sitting at the sofa, looking over a number of Giles' books, while Lupin sipped at a cup of coffee.

It was Lupin who answered her coming out of the kitchen to meet her. "We moved him into his bedroom. Harry wanted to make sure he was comfortable."

Spinning on her heal, her blond hair whipping behind her, she headed to Giles room. To be a Slayer was to expect and understand death, she had seen plenty of dead bodies, people who had been the latest entre for a vampire or the lamb for a ritual. It was always easier to be detached from those deaths, though they continued to fuel her forward, but it was the ones that she was closest to, like friends and her first Watcher, that gave her the hardest time.

When Merrick had died she had felt she was cut out for the whole Slayer gig, who was she kidding, she didn't feel like this was her destiny by right. She was supposed to be doing the teenage thing; going to school, parties, the sort of things they made teen movies out of. But his death had rocked her to her core. He hadn't been like Giles, he'd been more harsh and straightforward, not given to understand or care for her plights. Yet he'd made the scary world he'd pushed her into seem surmountable.

He'd told her of the girls that had come before her, their strength and fearlessness. Those girls had inspired her, until Merrick had died. She'd had to pull something from inside of her to face Lothos again, the same unidentified quality that had caused her to face the Master knowing she would die. But after destroying the gym and her parents divorce moving her and her mother to Sunnydale, she had thought herself escaped from that life.

How much she had wanted to hate Giles when he had dropped that book on Vampires in front of her, both literally and figuratively. But he had surprised her. She had expected another Merrick, cold, calculating, doing whatever it took to destroy the creatures of the night. She hadn't expected to find a man who understood her heartache as personally as she did. He hadn't wanted to be a Watcher, he had been set on being something much more mundane, until his father had sat him down and explained the truth.

Giles, along with Xander and Willow, had become her comfort, her reason to slay.

So when she walked into his room, seeing him so pale and withdrawn she froze at the threshold afraid to step in any further. Harry was sitting on the bed next to him, dark bruises marring the skin under his eyes, telling of his sleeplessness. There was also the aged wizard, the Merlin wanna-be that she had found so amusing during their meeting. He watched Harry and Giles closely, those eyes that had barely concealed twinkling amusement weeks ago were now clouded with thought and concern.

With a mental shiver, she stilled herself and came further into the room. "How is he?"

Both Harry and Dumbledore turned to face her. "He's in a catatonic state, Ms. Summers," Dumbledore answered. "But perfectly fine."

"We don't know that," Harry argued softly. "With Voldemort inside of him, we don't know what could be happening."

"Harry...," Dumbledore started but Buffy cut him off.

"Who did this?"

Harry turned from Giles and faced her. "He did. I accidently broke the spell and Voldemort attacked, Uncle Rupert performed a different spell. It took Voldemort from my mind and put him in Uncle Rupert's."

"Then we just gotta find the spell and reverse it," Buffy said, feeling that this was all too obvious and there had to be a glitch in the system.

"It's not that simple," Dumbledore proved her feeling. "As soon as Voldemort is release from Mr. Giles, he will once again try to gain control of Harry. Mr. Giles will need time to recuperate and would not be able to perform the magic he'd used to seal Harry and Voldemort apart."

"Then we find another spell," Buffy said each word with a measure of determination. "Something that Giles might have already found, he's been working a lot on that lately."

Professor Dumbledore gave her a look, gauging her as though he was seeing her for the first time. "I'm afraid that I won't be much use in that area. I have a basic knowledge of Wiccan magic at the most. Not enough to perform any sort of incantation with it."

"Ms. Calendar," Buffy announced.

"What?" Harry asked.

Buffy was getting excited with this thought. "She's a techno-pagan. Not necessarily Glinda but she cast a demon from the Internet, she's bound to have a hand in the mojo. I'll get the guys into research mode."

"What can I do?" Harry asked.

The Slayer glared at him. "I think you've done enough."

Harry blanched at her words but didn't argue them. She knew that it had been an accident but her worry and frustration were making her waspish. Things had been easier before Harry had come, Giles had been more focused on his duties, more focused on her. Jealous much? she chastised herself mentally.

"A firm plan, Ms. Summers," Dumbledore commended. "Harry, might you give me and Ms. Summers a moment alone."

"I don't want to leave him," Harry protested weakly.

Dumbledore was stern and reassuring. "It will only be a moment."

Sullenly, Harry walked out, shutting the door behind him with a soft thunk. Buffy turned to the aged wizard, placed her hands on her hip and did her best to look commanding. "I'm not going to sit by and have another Watcher die right in front of me. You think I was too hard on wizboy, that's fare, but I'm not going to coddle him."

"He's still just a boy, Ms. Summers," Dumbledore told her gently. "A boy who has lead a lonely life."

"This isn't a school. When things go wrong people die," Buffy countered. "It's time he learns that. You letting him believe that he should just lounge-chair it while the rest of you take care of things, is only going to get him and a lot of others dead."

The wizard nodded. "You are quite an extraordinary leader for one so young, Buffy. Now Harry has lead himself, but he does not know the strategies to do it well. As you say, we've been coddling him. And I want to change that."

"What's this got to do with me?" Buffy asked with little diplomacy.

"I want you to teach him to be a leader."

For anyone wondering, I basing Buffy's past on the comic book and not the movie, although they have a lot of similarities.