I suppose I should give an explanation for why I won't be resurrecting Sirius Black. My main reason is because I don't want to make it seem like Buffy can save everyone in the HPverse. She's not perfect or omnipotent. Living with the guilt of not being able to save everyone that needed saving has been a strong theme in the later BtVS seasons, and I want to remain faithful to that. Also, resurrecting him would make light of everything Harry has been through. The death of Sirius is akin to the untimely demise of Buffy's mom. J.K. Rowling intended it as a plot device for Harry to realize that he has to learn to stand on his own and leave behind the familiarity of his emotional dependence. So, I won't be tampering with that.
If you have any questions on why I made changes to the HBP developments, drop me a comment and I'll be happy to explain next time. A special thanks to my wonderful beta, Vkky! I don't know what I'd do without you! And readers: please continue to review. Your feedback is what keeps me on my toes and motivated to see this project through. Sorry about this uber-long author's note, I'll kindly shut up now. And now, on with the show!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As imperceptibly as Grief
As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away—
Too imperceptible at last
To seem like Perfidy—
A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun,
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon—
The Dusk drew earlier in—
The Morning foreign shone—
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone—
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.
Emily Dickinson
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-
17. Behind Blue Eyes
-
Buffy took another deep draught from her steaming mug of hot chocolaty goodness, thinking fondly of the exuberant house-elf who had taken it upon himself to lavish her with a seemingly endless supply of incomparably yummy foods and drinks. Dobby had definitely turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Not that she was complaining, mind you. No, the outspoken house-elf seemed to have a remarkable knack for popping in exactly when she needed something. Leaning forward, Buffy pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the window pane, idly watching the raindrops descend past her field of vision and listening to the gentle pitter patter as they collided with the castle walls and ground below.
She turned her attention back to the stack of Ministry of Magic reports compiled over the years on Fenrir Greyback. Buffy flipped the page with a soft sigh, unable to get over how odd it felt to be researching a big bad without the Scoobies at her side. Or jelly donuts, her mind added. With a nostalgic smile, she delved back to the werewolf's exploits warmly ensconced in the plush cushions of her window seat. A quiet knock interrupted Buffy in the middle of a sentence. She put down the file she had been skimming and crossed over to the portrait hole, swinging Madam Puddlemere open to reveal the tall Headmaster and even taller Professor Lupin waiting outside of her door.
"Hey guys! Well, don't just stand there, mi casa es tu casa," she grinned, moving aside to allow the two wizards to climb through.
Remus followed after Dumbledore, still pondering why exactly the Headmaster had summoned him here this morning to meet with Eliza Ashbery, though he had a sneaky suspicion that it had to do with Order business. His eyes darted around the spacious sitting room with more than a little curiosity. In all the seven years of his stay as a student at Hogwarts, Remus had never seen this particular space put to use. He had done his fair share of exploring with the Marauders back in those days, but they never did figure out how to get into this room, as Madam Penelope Puddlemere wasn't one to be won over by any amount of sweet talk or bribery. Sparing the room another glance, he took a seat in the armchair next to the couch where Eliza and the Headmaster had elected to settle. Remus let his gaze trail speculatively over the small frame of the girl once he had decided from his brief inspection that the suite itself appeared to house nothing out of the ordinary.
She was dressed in low-rise blue jeans and a brown corduroy jacket over a deep teal halter. If Dumbledore hadn't announced at the last Order meeting that Eliza Ashbery was a wandless witch, Remus would have pegged her for a Muggle. No witch is that fashionable or comfortable in Muggle dress, he thought. Plus, he had yet to see the girl in a set of robes to date. Perhaps she's a Half-blood or Muggleborn like Hermione? Remus mused. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something different about her. Some part of his brain was trying to rationalize it as her being a wandless witch since he had never met another one before... but it wasn't quite working. Remus breathed in deeply, pushing aside the light fragrance of her perfume until he detected the unmistakable scent of earth and dried blood, almost too faint even for his enhanced werewolf senses. Adding this new puzzle to the pile that had been festering ever since he first met the mystery girl, Remus tilted his head in a bird-like manner, observing with growing curiosity as Dumbledore and Eliza fell into easy conversation together.
"How was your week, dear?" Albus inquired in a gentler tone than Remus had ever heard before.
"Same old, same old," she answered blithely, pulling a leg underneath her body in the way that only females seemed to be able to do.
"Have you eaten breakfast yet?"
Buffy shot him a pointed look complete with a slender arched brow. "It's 9:15 in the morning, Dumbledore. You're lucky that I liked you enough to drag my ass out of bed this early."
"Ah, that's right. It must be old age setting in," Dumbledore kidded, grinning.
Remus had to smile at the playful conversation which abruptly took a turn to the bizarre.
"Nah. You're like a baby in the circles I travel," she waved a dainty, manicured hand dismissively.
Albus chuckled, his moustache and long beard twitching. "Yes, if I recall correctly, a great number of your significant others were well advanced in years."
"Is that just a polite, British way of saying I like my men old and crusty?" she retorted, placing her hands on her hips in mock indignation before bursting into a fit of self-deprecating laughter.
"I should certainly hope not. And I'll have you know that old age does not always coincide with—" he frowned at her implication, "—crustiness."
Remus listened in unashamedly. He had half a mind to ask if they were being serious. The thought of Eliza dating men the Headmaster considered old was unsettling to say the least. The DADA professor couldn't help but stare at his employer in wonder as Albus joined Eliza in lighthearted laughter over some new exchange he had missed. Remus had never seen the Headmaster behaving so informally with anyone before, let alone a girl of Harry's age. The intimate camaraderie between the two caused his heart to twist painfully. Remus still missed Padfoot terribly. It was a cruel twist of fate to have one of his best friends finally return, only to be torn away two short years later.
"Remus?"
"What?" the werewolf quickly shook his head to banish the unbidden memories of the reckless, mischievous young man who never had a chance to grow up as he heard himself being addressed by the Headmaster.
"I asked if you would care for a spot of tea and biscuits, Remus," Albus repeated with a gentle smile, gesturing to the tea set that had evidently appeared on the coffee table while he was lost to his thoughts.
"Yes, thank you, Headmaster," Remus replied a little hoarsely as he accepted the cup and saucer from Dumbledore.
Buffy popped another lemon drop into her mouth from the Headmaster's ever-present little, brown, paper bag as Professor Lupin and Dumbledore snacked on tea and biscuits. By god, if the gloomy weather wasn't enough to remind me that I'm in the land of Giles. The blonde Slayer rolled her eyes. It's a good thing Dumbledore's glasses never leave his face to get polished. Maybe they're magically self-cleaning glasses? Shaking away her increasingly scattered thoughts, Buffy turned her full attention to the DADA professor and began analyzing him in a detached manner for the lack of a more stimulating activity as the wizards continued to drink and dine.
Remus Lupin was incredibly tall and of average build. Although still quite young, he looked constantly tired and sickly, and his light brown hair was prematurely peppered with gray. Buffy studied his quiet demeanor with sharp eyes and couldn't help but be reminded of Oz. Cool and collected, she noted, so much so that he seemed to calm the very air around him. Just then, Remus' gaze flicked upward and their eyes met. Buffy saw him glance as her questioningly, as if to ask why she was staring.
Remus knew his face must have looked pale and drawn and his wizard robes as patched and shabby as ever. Yet, somehow he knew that wasn't what Eliza was seeing. The tiny blonde witch's stare packed the same penetrating intensity the current Headmaster's was famous for. He felt as though she were looking right through him while her own wide, hazel eyes irritatingly betrayed as much as a closed book. A furrow appeared over Lupin's brow as he wondered whether she was trying to detect the wolf in him. Don't go there, Moony, he chided himself. Now's not the time to wallow in self-pity. Besides, Padfoot and Prongs would be rolling over in their graves if they knew you were getting stared down by a one hundred pound Valley Girl. Remus subconsciously straightened his back and held her gaze steadily, even though his instincts were whispering at the back of his mind to look away.
Buffy stared intently into his soulful eyes even as her mother's voice paraded around her head, sternly berating her for terrible manners. Still, she couldn't tear herself away. So much pain and grief, loss and rejection. No, Buffy decided, he was quite different from Oz after all. Oz never looked upon her with tragic eyes tempered by decades fraught with the hopelessness of self-loathing and the loneliness of despair. No, Oz never had to live the life of an outcast. Buffy frowned as Professor Lupin stiffened abruptly.
Eleven years of nothing but death and destruction and she was now thrust into a world where prejudice and oppression still reigned. Fucking ridiculous. Yet, here he is, still fighting the good fight for a bunch of bigoted ingrates who don't even consider him a man. That thought alone penetrated her ennui long enough for Buffy to get a sudden urge to tell him it was okay, that he wasn't 'sub-human' or inferior if only to dispel his insecurities for a little while. She stamped down on the notion immediately; it would only make him think her insane. Not that the incessant staring isn't helping the case already. Instead, she looked him deeply in the eye as the corners from her mouth curled slowly upward into a heartfelt smile.
For a moment, Remus could only blink in a spectacularly stupefied fashion as a wholly genuine smile broke across Eliza's face. He had been dreading the customary look of fear and disgust only to see compassion, empathy. And acceptance? He was sure he had seen it. The werewolf belatedly returned her a surprised grin, feeling slightly silly about the immense relief that was now flooding his heart at so small a gesture. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how something so trite as a simple smile could mean so much.
"Well, as entertaining as that staring contest was to witness, shall we move along to business as usual?" Dumbledore's amused voice broke through the silence that had descended upon them.
"Aye aye, captain," Buffy grinned, not missing a beat as she gave the Headmaster a sloppy civilian salute before tossing another lemon drop into her waiting mouth.
"Very well then." Albus nodded, setting down his cuppa to face his reinstated DADA professor. "I have a favor to ask of you, Remus," he spoke in a serious tone.
"What is it, Headmaster?"
Albus shared a quick look with Buffy before continuing, "Would you be so kind as to draw upon your contacts to help us locate Mr. Fenrir Greyback?"
"Alright," Remus agreed uncertainly as the wheels turned in his head. "May I ask why?"
"So he won't be able to chase the other puppies anymore," Buffy interjected with a glib half-grin.
Remus turned toward her with a frown of utter confusion. "I beg your pardon?"
"What Eliza is trying to say is that we want to prevent Fenrir from inflicting any further harm during the war," Dumbledore clarified calmly.
What? He can't mean what I think he means. "What?" Remus asked incredulously.
"I was hoping you would consent to pointing Miss Ashbery in the right direction at the right time."
Remus blinked. Although his voice sounded quite calm, he was having a hard time believing his ears. You've got to be joking me, old chap! Sending a seventeen year-old witch after the most vicious and feared werewolf in all of Europe? "You're sending her after Greyback?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"Nope. Actually, I volunteered," Buffy broke in, her nonchalance more reminiscent of someone discussing the weather than someone who had just consigned herself to a suicide mission.
Professor Lupin turned from the Headmaster to the tiny blonde, clearly convinced that the girl was not at all right in the head... that is, until he saw her face. Her schooled features remained as impassive as ever, but as he looked closer... really looked, that's when it hit him. Remus saw something he had seldom discerned on a human face: a strange mixture of good and evil, weariness of life and bored complacency that only the most ancient of beings could ever begin to feel. Dumbledore was beginning to get that look in his eyes (minus the evil aspect). But the girl had it in spades. It was so out of place on her deceptively young countenance, even though Remus guessed she had looked that way for a long time. Gazing at the woman-child with the unfathomable haunting eyes, he found himself asking the same unspoken question. Who is she?
"Why did you?" he asked, watching her facial expression very carefully to try to get a feel for the mysterious girl.
Buffy picked up a biscuit and commenced to munch on it as she answered, "No one else seemed to want the job."
"But why do you want it?"
"Honestly? Because I'm bored," she said in a completely serious voice.
Buffy began nibbling on a second biscuit. Somehow, he could discern that she had told him the truth just then. Hmm. "Most people don't usually go hunting for a notorious werewolf simply because they're bored," he shrewdly pointed out.
"Most being the operative word."
Remus was silent for a long moment.
"Very well," Remus said at last to the pair, realizing that he wouldn't be able to get anything out of the taciturn young witch this way. "But only on the condition that I accompany Eliza on this mission," he amended in a firm tone. Professor Lupin waited while Dumbledore and Eliza shared a significant look.
At length, Buffy turned her attention back on the werewolf. "Why?" she asked calmly, turning the question back on him.
"Because I am the only Order member who has first-hand knowledge of the geographical location."
"Fair enough," Buffy breathed in an airy voice though she was fuming internally. What is it with men and their stupid male posturing!
Oh, I suppose it stems from our manliness, teased the Headmaster at the Slayer's mental grumblings.
Buffy scowled at the wizened wizard. Hardy har har, Gandalf!
"Well then, you've got all the time you need to discern Fenrir's whereabouts. We'll reconvene to discuss the mission once Remus obtains the necessary information. Thank you for having us, dear. Until then," Dumbledore smiled, brilliant blue eyes twinkling in satisfaction and humor as he stood.
Remus stepped out of the portrait hole after the Headmaster, his turned gaze catching and holding Eliza's until the painting of Penelope Puddlemere shut her from sight. Only then did he catch the fact that the blonde witch had never explicitly issued them an invitation into her room.
-
"Whatever it is, I hope it's more politically correct than U-No-Poo. Honestly, I don't know what they were thinking," Hermione weighed in on the conversation in a disapproving tone.
Ron turned to stare at her as if she had gone mad. "Are you kidding? That was the cleverest slogan they've thought up yet." He turned toward his black-haired friend when Hermione failed to look the least bit convinced, "Back me up here, Harry."
"Huh?" Harry shook himself out of his thoughts long enough to give a distracted reply. "Oh, it was genius."
All Harry received for his efforts of being a supportive friend was a lengthy glare from the bushy-haired witch. Shaking his head helplessly, Harry elected to return to his musings rather than be caught in the crossfire of the 'Ron and Hermione daily dispute' again. He hung back from the quarreling couple, partially to get away from the incessant bickering and partially because he somehow couldn't bring himself to feel as psyched about the upcoming excursion. Sure, the Seventh-Year Gryffindor was as ecstatic about the Weasley twins' new branch shop in the wizarding village as Ron, but he couldn't quell the feeling that something was decidedly missing.
At the sound of stone scraping on stone, Harry turned his head toward the corridor leading to Dumbledore's office to see the gargoyle guarding its entrance leap aside and a familiar figure emerge. "Eliza!" Harry yelled in sudden excitement, causing both Ron and Hermione to pause mid-stride and turn back. Buffy looked up at the sound of her alias being shouted down the hall to see Harry trotting toward her, followed closely behind by Ron and Hermione.
"Hey," she greeted.
"Hi Eliza," Harry beamed, running a hand through his unruly black hair. He felt his eyes trail over her small, shapely frame, taking in her elegant dress slacks and inevitably stopping on the v-neck sweater that dipped enticingly to show just the hint of the swell of her breasts. Feeling a flush creeping into his cheeks, Harry quickly averted his eyes as Ron and Hermione joined them.
"What's up guys?"
"Just getting back from supper," Ron answered, his gaze unconsciously sweeping over the petite blonde much in the same way Harry's had seconds earlier.
"What were you doing in Dumbledore's office?" Hermione couldn't help herself from asking.
Buffy rolled her eyes mentally. "Just having a nice chat," she answered.
Hermione stared skeptically at the blonde. "Why are your eyes blue?" she burst out suddenly.
At the question, Harry and Ron both locked her gazes on Eliza's face. Had they not been too busy checking out the rest of her body, the two Gryffindor Seventh-Years would also have noticed the change as well. Even in the dim flickering torchlight of the corridor, they could see that Eliza's normally hazel irises had transformed into a clear shade of blue not unlike their Headmaster's this evening. Scrunching up her nose, Buffy shut her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them a second later, her eyes had reverted back to their original hazel hue.
"Wow!" "Blimey!" Harry and Ron exclaimed at the same time only to be outdone by Hermione, who shouted, "You're a Metamorphmagus, aren't you?"
Buffy's gaze flitted between the three of them in confusion. "A Meta-what?"
"A Metamorphmagus is an incredibly rare wizard or witch who's able to change his or her appearance at will," Hermione recited automatically, sounding eerily like a walking textbook. "Although, I've never seen one who could alter their eye color before," she added, frowning as her mind quickly recalled the dinner when Tonks had entertained them by transforming her hair color and the shape of her nose.
Buffy shrugged in dismissal of the idea. "I'm pretty sure I'm not one."
"Then, how were you able to do that?" Hermione returned immediately and just barely reframed herself from pointing a finger at Eliza's hazel orbs.
"A spell," Buffy replied cautiously, suspiciously eyeing the three Seventh-Years standing in front of her. The deeply ingrained self-defenses flared up at once as her mental and emotional barriers leapt into place. "Why do you ask?"
"Without a wand?" Ron shot the girl an incredulous stare.
Buffy shrugged, a small frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. She was becoming quickly agitated by the Gryffindor Trio's barrage of questions. Had she known she would be facing the firing squad on her way out of Dumbledore's office, she would have disapparated instead.
"That's Auror-level concealment and disguise magic!" Hermione remarked, unconsciously leaning forward as she pierced the girl with her sharp, speculative gaze. "How could you have learned that already? Where did you-" the bushy-haired witch persisted.
"Does it matter? I can't see how that's any of your business," Buffy cut in, the annoyance was evident in her voice as she crossed her arms reflexively over her chest. "So...did you guys want something? Or is this just an impromptu reenactment of the Spanish Inquisition?" she asked them expectantly, the words coming out sharper than she had intended as she glared at all three in turn.
Eyes growing wide, Hermione could only stare back mutely at the petite blonde as the harsh words hit her like a slap in the face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry—" she murmured out a halfhearted apology as she felt her self-righteous inquisitiveness deflating on the spot.
"Yes, you did. So don't even try it," Buffy countered, drawing out the first word as Hermione shifted on her feet uncomfortably next to an embarrassed-looking Harry and a thoroughly confused Ron. Glaring at them for another minute, the blonde Slayer added, "I've got better things to do than be the subject of an interrogation. So, if you'll excuse me." She turned quickly on her heel and stalked away from the gaping trio toward the main corridor.
Ron was the first to recover. "Can someone please tell me what the bloody hell the Spanish Inquisition is?" he posed to no one in particular.
His question startled Harry and Hermione out of their daze, the latter of whom replied weakly, "It's a Muggle historical reference, Ron. I'll explain it later."
Cor, that went well, Harry thought morosely as he turned his angry gaze onto Hermione, green eyes flashing. "God, Hermione! Don't you know when to stop?"
Hermione turned toward Ron in desperation as she watched Harry hurrying to catch up to Eliza's rapidly retreating form. "I swear, I didn't mean—" she muttered, feeling hot tears burn in her eyes from the onslaught of her best friend's rebuke.
Ron sighed helplessly as he glanced back and forth from the black-haired wizard moving away from them in angry strides to the bushy-haired witch by his side who was trying very hard not to cry. Draping a lanky arm over the bushy-haired witch's slender shoulders, Ron gave her a gentle squeeze. "Come on 'Mione, let's go back to the common room. I'm sure Harry didn't mean it," he soothed, leading the distraught Hermione back toward the Fat Lady's portrait, even as he secretly questioned the truth to his own words.
-
"Eliza, wait!"
Buffy halted her step abruptly, whirling around with a scowl. Harry stopped as well, watching worriedly as the small blonde lifted a hand to brush away an errant strand of golden blonde hair that had fallen out from her messy French twist.
"What do you want, Harry?"
Harry backed away a little at the sight of the blonde's withering stare, idly wondering how someone so tiny could look so downright scary at times. "Er, I—I wanted to apologize for Hermione back there. Sometimes, she's a tad bit too nosy for her own good," he said hesitantly, a shy, rueful smile slowly forming on his lips.
"Oh." All traces of irritation dissipated from her system as she caught the black-haired wizard's honestly apologetic expression and remembered belatedly that he was the only one who hadn't bombarded her with questions. Sighing softly, she shrugged a third time as her facial features softened back to a usual state of neutrality. "It wasn't really your fault, but thanks anyway," Buffy nodded her thanks and made to leave again.
"Wait!" Harry called out instinctively.
Buffy pivoted round, "Yeah?"
"Actually," Harry began awkwardly, all of a sudden finding the stray balls of lint on his House jumper highly fascinating as he was hit by a rush of nervousness. "I was wondering if you knew about the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow."
A furrow appeared on Buffy's brow as she answered, "I didn't. What's Hogs Meet? Do you meet hogs or something?"
"No!" He looked horrified for a moment. "Not Hogs Meet! Hogsmeade. It's a small all-wizarding village outside the castle. All Third-Years and up are allowed to spend the second Saturday of every month there starting tomorrow."
"What's so great about it?" Buffy asked bluntly.
Harry frowned slightly, taken aback by her unexpected question. It took him a couple of seconds to remind himself that the blonde witch was a visitor from a foreign country and therefore unfamiliar with the normal Hogwarts school traditions. His brain was not functioning fast enough to verbalize why the picturesque village of little thatches and shops was the object of so much fanfare within the Hogwarts student population, so instead Harry blurted out the first thing that occurred to him. "Um, it's not school?"
Buffy quirked a slim, golden brow. "It's not like I'm forced to go anyway."
"There's a huge sweets shop," Harry supplied hopefully, feeling like he was grasping for straws.
Buffy's stoic face lit up instantly with a childlike wonder at the mention. "As in chocolate? And munchies?"
"Yeah, loads of it!" Harry grinned widely in relief. "Plus, every other wizarding treat you can imagine," he confirmed, nodding his head enthusiastically. His mouth was beginning to water just thinking about Honeydukes Sweetshop, which had certainly been the highlight of the trip for him last year. "And there's the new joke shop and the Three Broomsticks, which makes the best butterbeers around!"
"Hmm, sounds like there's potential."
For a long moment, Harry stood, his eyes tracing over Eliza's delicate features with more reverence than he was currently aware of as he balanced precariously on the precipice of indecision. He felt as though he had swallowed half a dozen miniaturized Cornish Pixies that were now doing elaborate flips and cartwheels inside his stomach. The rational part of his brain was insistently telling him that it was a bad idea, not worth the risk of dragging Eliza into his life of danger and uncertainty. After all, it was the same reasoning that had led him to call it off with Ginny just months ago.
Unfortunately, the urgings coming from the opposing side of his brain resounded just as fervently. In his short life of seventeen years, Harry had already lost so many people dear to him. Mum. Dad. Sirius. Too many. Sometime during the summer, Harry had come to the grim realization that as The Boy Who Lived, he probably had very few years left on his meter. It was foolishness to hope otherwise. Harry had promised himself then that he would make the best of it. He didn't want to have to live with the weight of new regrets in addition to the ones he already carried. Sighing resolutely, Harry decided to throw caution to the wind; the words tumbled forth in a jumbled stream from his lips.
"Sowouldyouliketocomewithmetomorrow?"