Disclaimer: Harry Potter remains the property of J.K. Rowling and any other publishers or organisations which I don't know, but don't want to anger. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon. I am not making any profit whatsoever in writing this story. I write purely for the sake of my own and others enjoyment.
A/N: I know I did say I wouldn't be having Buffy in this story, but . . . well you'll see what happens.
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Previous Chapter:
Now, Elizabeth walked up the lawn of a comfortable looking house and knocked on the door.
"I'LL GET IT!" sang a chirpy voice before the door was yanked open.
A small blond girl around Harry's age appeared on the threshold. Her hazel eyes widened imperceptibly when she realised just who had come to her house.
"Hello Buffy."
"Oh."
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Chapter Ten: The Slayers – Part Two
"How are you?"
Buffy frowned lightly, looking, for a moment, as though she hadn't understood the question. "Fine."
Elizabeth peered passed the girl's head, scanning the hallway. "Is your father at home?"
"Yeah . . . Does dad know you're here? 'Cause he's kind of on vacation now, so he won't be able to help y –"
"Slayers don't take vacations," Elizabeth interjected.
Buffy frowned. "Right," she said tightly.
Elizabeth lifted her brows. "Can I come in?"
Buffy released a short, irritable breath. "Whatever. . . DAD!" she hollered. "You-know-who's here!"
Elizabeth forced herself not to snigger at that. You-know-who indeed!
Elizabeth stepped passed the threshold, determinedly ignoring Buffy's direct stare. She knew the girl resented her somewhat, but it wasn't anything personal. She resented all the Slayers, even her own father at times. Well, what did he expect? He had married a muggle after all, and had chosen to live in the muggle world, completely cutting himself off from the magical one. Except when he had to Slay. He hadn't even sent his daughter to a magic school, letting her make the choice of whether she wanted to be a muggle or wizard. Obviously, Buffy had chosen to remain a muggle.
And what a muggle she was. Boys, clothes, shoes, and cheerleading were her passions. Oh, and shepherding sheep, more commonly referred to as American teenage girls.
Elizabeth perused the inside of the Summers' home. Unlike Mabani and Nahuel's, Hank Summers' home was pure muggle. No hint of anything magical could be found lurking in cupboards or under the stove. Nothing. No magical pets, not even a sneakoscope that could be mistaken for a snow globe if a muggle should come over. It was a bit much. Hank had been raised in the magical world, after all, and to suddenly cut himself off completely . . . he was mental, that's what he was. Elizabeth had often wondered where he kept his wand.
Buffy led her to the lounge where Hank and Joyce were watching the early morning news. She looked pointedly at her father before scattering out of the room and up the stairs; her footsteps thumping heavily on the floorboards above.
Elizabeth turned to Hank, eyebrows raised.
He went slightly pink. "Sorry." He gestured upwards with his head. Elizabeth did not have to ask what he was sorry for. "She's just . . . you know how she is."
"You don't have to apologise Hank. I understand. How are you Joyce?"
Hank's wife was an attractive blonde of around thirty-five with warm brown eyes. She looked enormously like her daughter.
"Mm, here and there." She stood up from her perch on the chair. "Would you, like a beverage?"
Elizabeth smiled. Joyce was nothing like Buffy, personality wise. She had accepted Hank's role in the Universe with open arms. Not without fainting first, of course, (finding out your husband was not only a wizard but a superhero would do that) but ever since then she'd been a real gem. "No thanks. I've just been to Nahuel's, and before that Mabani's. I've drunk enough, as you can imagine."
"Hmm." Joyce looked between her and Hank. "I'll leave you two alone. I'm sure you have Slayer business to discuss."
"Actually, I don't mind if you –" Elizabeth stopped because Hank was frantically shaking his head behind his wife's back. "– get me something to eat," she finished, perhaps not so smoothly as lamely. "Instead of a drink, I mean."
Joyce looked puzzled. "O-kay," she said. "What would you like?"
"Erm, I don't really know . . ." Behind Joyce, Hank was rolling his eyes and shaking his head, though this time at the lameness of her response. "Anything?"
"Pizza?" Joyce offered.
"That'd be great!" Elizabeth said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.
Joyce only gave her a very brief stare that suggested she thought Elizabeth might have been drinking too much caffeine, before smiling and walking out of the room.
Elizabeth glared at Hank. "Don't ever do that again. I've got too many people thinking I'm mental, don't need to add your wife in the mix."
"Sorry," he grinned.
"Now would you mind telling me why you don't want Joyce to hear our discussion? It's not like it's a big secret!"
Hank looked momentarily stumped. "Um, later maybe? First tell me what you're here for."
"You can probably guess."
"That Dark Lord guy . . .?"
Elizabeth sat herself down on a squishy armchair and rolled her eyes. "The nutter is back, obviously. Do you mind if I tell –?"
He flapped a dismissive hand. "I don't mind who you tell. As long as they don't know my name, especially my family name."
"Of course." Elizabeth had known that Hank, at least, wouldn't mind the Order knowing. He was like that. A real chap. "I thought you'd like to know, that Harry's found me out."
Hank looked genuinely pleased. "That's wonderful, Elizabeth. How did he take it?"
"I'm not sure. I wasn't the one to tell him. Dumbledore explained it all before Harry even met me. But he certainly seemed glad to see me when he finally did." Elizabeth eyed Hank's face. He was hiding something from her. And he was fidgeting. Not like him at all. "Hank –" she began.
"I have something to tell you," he admitted, looking up at her with sheepish eyes.
"Well obviously," she snorted. "I've been getting weird feelings from you all day. At first I thought it was indigestion, but then –"
"It's Buffy," he interrupted, looking even more nervous.
What the heck was going on?
"What about her?"
Hank stood up and walked to the fireplace, fiddling with the knick-knacks on the mantelpiece. He breathed deeply before focusing back on her. "I've had a dream," he confessed.
Elizabeth felt uneasy. "What dream?"
"Remember when Buffy was seven and she had that, that accident?"
How could she not remember? The child had been hit by a car. She had almost died. Hank had been distraught, had gone into a rapid decline. It took Antinaco, Nahuel's father, to snap him out of it by pounding the heck out of him. It had certainly helped open Hank's eyes and, in turn, saved Buffy's life. "Yes."
He laughed weakly. "Well, remember how I helped her in the hospital . . .?
She paused before drawing out, "Yes. And?"
"And . . . uh . . . ha-ha . . . Buffy's going to be a Slayer."
Nothing was said for around two minutes after that. Elizabeth's mind had gone blank. "How, how do you know that?" she finally managed. "Just because of how you helped her . . . it can't be that simple! We would have figured it out ages ago!"
"The dream –"
"The dream told you?" Elizabeth burst out. "Are you sure it wasn't something you ate?"
He stared reprovingly at her. "No. And you know it."
Elizabeth blushed. "Sorry. I can't believe . . ."
"Tell me about it. I wasn't planning on having anymore kids, you know. I was counting on Buffy's son continuing my Slayer line. But now . . ."
"Buffy!" Elizabeth exclaimed and gave a hearty guffaw. "Cheerleader Buffy is going to be a Slayer when you finally conk it? I can't believe it! At least I won't be the only female in the bunch anymore." She had a suspicious thought. "Oh Merlin! Does she know?"
Hank looked incredibly shamefaced.
"I don't believe it!" she said again, and burst out laughing. "Do the others know at least?"
Hank shook his head. "You're the first I've told."
"They'll feel something's wrong, you know. Just like I did. They'll come knocking. Well, except Mabani. He wouldn't care." She had another sudden thought and leaned forward in her seat. "I assume that Joyce doesn't know, and that's why you were so determined to have her leave the room?"
Hank nodded. "I don't think she could handle it at this point –"
Elizabeth was quick to pick up on the despair in his voice. "What d'you mean?"
"We . . . we've been having problems," Hank admitted, avoiding her eyes. "Of the marriage kind."
Elizabeth was horrified, but oddly not surprised. It was never spoken about, but it was not really permitted for a Slayer to marry a muggle. If their offspring weren't magical, they would die from harbouring the Slayer essence in them. And then . . . well, it was bye-bye for that Slayer line. Hank had taken a risk in marrying Joyce. But luckily, his daughter was a witch; she just chose not to be one.
But, problems? With their marriage? Elizabeth suspected it was everything to do with Slaying, and nothing to do with married life. Perhaps Joyce wasn't as accepting as Elizabeth had thought? But she didn't blame the woman. It was a hard life, being married to a Slayer. It took patience, love, guts, and strong mental health. You could never know when your spouse might end up dead.
"That's, well, horrible Hank. If there's anything I can do . . . ?"
He shook his head resignedly. "No, but thanks for offering."
"So, little Buffy is going to be a Slayer?" Elizabeth suddenly straightened, having been struck with another inspirational thought. "Hang on! Do you think it'll work with Harry?" she asked excitedly. "What you did with Buffy, I mean? That way, if I die, he can be a Slayer as well, however weird it is. I wouldn't have to worry about his safety!" She was half relieved just thinking about it.
Hank shrugged. "I don't know. We don't know if he has to be almost dead for you do it. Like how it was with Buffy. It might not work if you just do it off the block."
She slouched a little at that. "You're probably right." She changed the subject. "Joyce is finished in the kitchen. The stove just beeped."
Hank cocked his head to the side. "She's taking it out of there now. Are you really hungry?"
Elizabeth went pink. "No, and you know it you bugger! I already ate at Nahuel's."
"Ah." Hank acquired a speculative gleam to his eyes. "How is he? Have you two finally –?"
"Shut it!"
Hank sniggered.
"There are more important things to be going on with at the moment. I've no time for romance . . . Of any kind!" she added pointedly.
"Not even if it was the physica –?"
"Especially!"
"Okay, okay. Sheesh. You know if you just admit it –"
"I do admit it Hank. I don't make a habit of lying to myself, and well you know it. It's just . . . We're both Slayers, aren't we? If we had –" she blushed scarlet "– a child together, what would he or she be like? Dangerously powerful? No, it would never pan out. We need to continue our own lines separately. That means without each other," she added because Hank had grinned.
He shook his head. "You still don't get it do you?"
"What?"
"What you're saying is only a speculation Elizabeth –"
"– a pretty damned good one –"
"– and that means there are other speculations out there. Who knows? It could be that all your kids would have the power instead of just one. You never know."
"Why are we talking about this?" Her face had grown steadily redder throughout Hanks little speech. "It's never going to happen. Drop it."
"Okay. But I hope I gave you something to think about." He grew serious. "Life's full of risks you know. If you don't take them you'll get nowhere."
"I think I know that better than anyone." She waved a hand at herself. "Slayer, after all."
Joyce chose that moment to come back into the room. She was carrying a few large slices of pizza. "I hope that's enough," she said, placing the plate on the table in front of Elizabeth. "I know you Slayers have large appetites. What?"
Hank had been silently sniggering at Elizabeth's horrified looking face. He shook his head. "It's nothing."
"Er . . ." Elizabeth forced her eyes away from the grotesque pile of pizza to look at Joyce. "Might I have a paper bag?"
She looked perplexed. "What for?"
"Erm, it's just I'll be leaving, and I don't think I can finish all this by the time I have to go."
Dawning comprehension appeared on the other woman's face. "Oh, you mean a doggy bag?"
"Sure." Elizabeth nodded. "Doggy bag. Right." She laughed pathetically.
The thumping of footsteps sounded down the stairs.
"I'M GOING TO SCHOOL BYE MOM BYE DAD!" Buffy hollered. The sound of the front door opening and shutting came, then silence.
"Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but, isn't it a bit early to be going to school? It's only," she checked the clock on the wall "ten passed six! Not to mention, it's still a bit dark outside."
Hand and Joyce exchanged looks.
Elizabeth pounced. "What?"
Hank sighed, giving the impression that he'd been over this topic one to many times. "Cheerleader practice, or so she says."
"Ahh, I see. And you're not worried?"
"I, uh, might be keeping tabs on her," he admitted, looking sheepish. "And it isn't like she can't take care of herself."
Elizabeth raised her brows. "You've, er, taught her some moves then?"
Hank rubbed his eyes, looking, for a moment, rather tired. "When she let's me, yeah."
"I'm surprised she even consented," Elizabeth gave Hank a searching look. "What with the way she, well, doesn't exactly like anything . . . supernatural?"
"I hardly call teaching her how to fight, supernatural," said Hank, his tone almost as dry as Elizabeth's was known to be.
"Alright, alright." Elizabeth grinned and stood up. "I'm going now." She looked meaningfully between Hank and his wife. "I want you both to take care of yourselves." She paused and added, but only for effect. "In all things."
Hank pierced her with a glare.
She looked at him innocently before shaking Joyce's hand, tipping a wink at Hank, and showing herself out the door with all the speed her body was capable of.
She wasn't worried that they might think her hasty exist to be rude. She had always left their house this way, giving the impression that she had important business to be going on with. She knew that Joyce, at least, would think so. Hank . . . well, Hank would likely be amused that she was showing off so much in front of his wife, who tended to be awed very easily. Which was why Hank refrained from showing her too much of his Slayer side. Elizabeth, however, did not have that inclination towards Joyce, so she did not mind demonstrating her abilities. In fact, she only did it for a spot of innocent fun.
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A large, brown body vaulting over the treetops and landing by her own feet in what looked to be a highly uncomfortable position, was what greeted Elizabeth the moment she apparated to New Zealand.
She peered down at it, a grin fairly smothering her face. "Having fun?"
"Ha ha," was what answered her before the body flipped up on its feet.
"What is –?" she asked curiously.
"No time," it grunted before it leapt, gliding back over the treetops and out of sight.
The next couple of minutes consisted of Elizabeth hearing smacking, crashing, thudding, hurling, cursing, growling and clawing noises. From the sounds, Elizabeth assumed that the brown body was now fighting what seemed to be one of the nastier breed of Cyclops'. It would probably take some time, so she settled herself down to wait, thinking she would pass the time staring pleasantly at her surroundings.
She was near a river. A very large and very blue river that looked wonderfully cool and fresh. It extended both left and right further than even Elizabeth could see. The grass on the banks was impossibly green, and the trees behind her and on the opposite bank were incredibly lush. And there were not only trees, but black mountains sitting gorgeously over the horizon. A very light mist floated just above the ground. It was chilly and it was daytime. Probably around seven in the morning.
Elizabeth thought back to the night before. She had slept a few hours in Bangkok after leaving Los Angeles, before venturing to Australia. Upon realising that Jarrah was not to be found in Australia – she hadn't been able to sense him anywhere – she had, once again, sent out her energy signal and gotten one in reply. Jarrah was to be found somewhere in the middle of New Zealand where no living soul ventured, except on school trips for Geography class.
Jarrah was a new Slayer. His father, her mentor, had died only six months ago. A gum tree, wielded by a particularly zealous 'Rock' giant somewhere in the middle of Western Australia, had pierced his upper chest, virtually severing it from the rest of his body. He had died instantly, leaving Jarrah to continue his line, and to avenge his death.
Jarrah was her best friend. No matter that they were six years apart in age. They had grown up together, sharing the same house and the same parent. He had learned his skills the same time she had learned hers. It hadn't mattered that he didn't have any power at the time, he had still sat in the same lessons she had taken. It was to prepare him for the future. Needless to say, when his father died, Jarrah had taken to Slaying like a child let loose in a toy store.
He was generally unfeeling and a very ruthless opponent. Elizabeth suspected it was because he was still grieving.
A few minutes passed with Elizabeth staring at the calm water before a dull sounding thud echoed through the trees behind her. A second later an enormous body, comparable to a mountain troll, broke through the trees, splintering them, coming to skid along the ground with a hoppity-skip, and finally stopping by her side, the buckety head dangling over the bank and into the water.
A moment later Jarrah burst through the trees at a speed that normal people wouldn't be able to follow, his eyes looking all the more ferocious in the early morning light. He stopped by the head of the Cyclops, sparing her a brief irritated glance, before grasping the head between his hands and plonking his foot at the base of the Cyclops' neck.
Elizabeth had not moved during all this. She had remained ever seated by her place on the bank. But seeing the position Jarrah had moved into now, and realising what he was about to do, she leapt up and caught his hands before he could to do it.
He struggled briefly in her hold, his eyes flashing at her daring. "What. Are. You. Doing?" he spat, wriggling out of her grasp. "It's evil! It has to be slayed!"
She shook her head, pity briefly obscuring her gaze, before she threw a hard stare his way. "No."
He stared at her incredulously. "What do you mean 'no'? Giants are evil!"
She sighed shortly. "Not all of them! Don't blame the Cyclops for what happened to your father, Jarrah. Let got of it!"
"It has to be stopped," he growled. His eyes grew hard when she moved into a defensive position, stepping before him and the Cyclops.
She did some growling of her own. "Was it attacking anyone? Was anyone here? This place is completely isolated. Did you just decide to come and kill it for no good reason?"
"Shuddup! You don't understand! Your parents died when you were young, when you could hardly remember them. Now move out of the way!"
"That's Bull!" she snapped, finally loosing her patience. She had known Jarrah hated all breeds of big people with a passion, but she hadn't understood it was this extreme. "Your father was my father. It cut me just as deep when he died. But I don't go around beating on unsuspecting giants. You need to let go of your anger. It's not good for you. You're too volatile as it is!"
Jarrah stared at her for the longest of times, his brown eyes hard. Then, he slumped, looking extremely tired. "I know." He ran his hands over his face. "You're bloody right." He spared one last pathetic glance at the Cyclops. "Let's get out of here." He apparated.
Elizabeth sighed in relief then looked at the sixteen foot body before her. She bent over and moved the head out of the water before dragging its entire weight into the edge of the forest.
There, if any muggles flew by in a helicopter, they wouldn't be able to see it.
She stared at the grotesque visage for a second. Its one eye was completely black from Jarrah's fists and its body had numerous scrapes and bruises on it. She frowned, not even certain as to what she was frowning about. She had been wrong. This Cyclops wasn't one of the nastier breeds. It was a vegetarian. She shook her head disapprovingly, picked up its hands and moved them on its chest. There, at least it looked more comfortable. She huffed to herself and disapparated.
xxxxxx
She arrived in Jarrah's living room to find him pacing. This brought her up short because Jarrah didn't usually pace. He was brown-skinned, bristly, extremely tall, (6' 6) and muscly, so it was quite disconcerting to watch such bigness display such liquid grace. He finally stopped pacing and slumped down in a recliner. "What am I going to do?" He looked over at her, displaying a curious amount of sadness in his gaze.
"See a therapist?" she suggested.
He snorted. "Yeah, that'll help. I can see it now. 'Tell me? Have you had a traumatic experience lately?' 'Well, my father was slain by a rock giant out in the bush about six months ago. I had to bury him in two different pieces – does that count?' Right."
Elizabeth couldn't help the twitch of her lips at his dry tone. "Well at least you can joke about it now. Isn't that supposed to mean that you're getting over it or something . . . ? Or do you expect me to believe it was my little speech out in the woods that did it?"
"Stop being so cocky, Elizabeth. You're not that great of an influential speaker." He ran a hand through his short, bristly dark hair.
"I do try my best."
He humped. "So what are you doing here? I thought you moved back to England with your brother."
Elizabeth was brought up short. "How the heck did you find out about Harry?"
He snorted, looking smug. "I keep tabs on you. I saw you both running along the coast one morning."
"You butt! I didn't feel you at all!"
He smirked. "Because I didn't want you to. Anyway, that can't be the only reason you've come back." He searched her face. "You want something."
Elizabeth sighed. There was no dancing around it. Jarrah was far too observant and knew her far too well. "I want to tell Albus Dumbledore about you, and some of his friends."
"As long as they don't know my –"
"Name, I know. Honestly, you're just like Hank."
"You've been to see him have you?" He crossed his arms, glancing at her slyly. "And the others?"
Elizabeth did not miss the emphasis he put on the word 'others'. "Drop it!" she snarled.
He laughed. Elizabeth growled. He was so bloody irritating! Not only him, but Hank as well. They were two peas in a bloody great pod, is what they were. She told him so.
"Well when you're so obvious about it . . ." was his drawling response.
Elizabeth would have been mortified at that, if she hadn't known that maybe, possibly, a little bit, Nahuel felt the same way.
"How long are you gonna stay for?" he asked, putting his feet up on the coffee table.
"As long as it takes to pack everything in the house, shrink it, and get it ready for portkeying to England." She moved over to a chaise lounge chair adjacent to the couch. "Then, I'll probably spend the night here for the last time before apparating back to the home country. The house in Surrey is almost finished now."
Jarrah stared at her. "You know," he said, frowning a little. "It's gonna be really weird without you here."
"Tell me about it!"
"Are you gonna say goodbye to Tony?"
"M'not sure." She shrugged. "We've kind of drifted apart since graduation. Besides, he already knows I'm moving to England. We've already said our goodbye's ages ago."
Jarrah inclined his head and grunted. "I still can't believe you were best friends with that twit!"
"He's a bit dim –"Jarrah grunted again "– but he's alright. He's got a girlfriend now, you know?"
Jarrah put a mocking hand to his chest. "No." Then he frowned, puzzled. "Really?"
Elizabeth nodded. "They're engaged to be married." She stood up and planted both hands on her hips. "So are you going to help me pack, or what?"
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The kids, Sirius and Mrs Weasley had found themselves spending the last couple of days in the drawing room, emptying it of its dark art contents. A few times Kreacher would sidle in and attempt to do the same, although for different reasons entirely. He would even go so far as to sneak them under his loin cloth – which Harry found particularly disturbing – and secret them away to his little alcove in the attic.
Harry really didn't know what to make of Kreacher. The first time he'd met him, he'd been reminded of a cross between a pug and a shrivelled up date, except more crotchety and less red. He'd also had an urge to laugh at some of the absurd things the elf had said and done, and at the same time he had become angry at him because of those very things. Though, not as much as Ron and Ginny, and particularly Sirius. Kreacher and Sirius loathed each other about as much as, if not more, than Harry and Snape loathed each other.
The only good thing about Kreacher hanging around, though, was that Muck had taken to hanging around as well. Ever since Harry had come to Grimmauld place she had, practically, not let him out of her sight. The night Elizabeth left Harry had followed Sirius and Lupin down the hallway to dinner, only to find Muck squatting in front of the door to the kitchen, her enormous sapphire eyes blinking stubbornly up at them. She would not budge. She even went so far as to nearly bite Sirius's hand when he stooped to gently shove her out of the way. In the end, Harry had been forced to pick her up and take her into the kitchen with him. She had sat on his lap the entire time, with Harry feeding her scraps of his dinner.
Harry had never had a dog, but he imagined this was how one would act. Even her territorial reaction towards Sirius had prompted a snigger from Professor Lupin.
But Elizabeth's prediction that Muck would terrorise Kreacher if Harry let her, proved to be true also. She had taken one sniff at the elf and had pounced, chasing him from the room, and providing much entertainment for everyone else, especially Sirius, whom she had, weirdly, developed a liking for after realising he had meant her and Harry no harm.
The six Hogwartians had also, finally, taken a thorough look at the Animagus book Elizabeth had given Harry. Or more to the point, Hermione had taken a thorough look and had yet to give the book back, even secluding herself in the room she shared with Ginny at odd hours of the day – meaning breakfast and lunch – for twenty minutes at a time. The others would have minded this, if it weren't for the fact that they all knew Hermione was incredibly bright and having her read it first would definitely give them an edge of understanding they wouldn't have had if they had read it on their own. But for someone who had recently been vehemently adamant about not even touching the book, Hermione was certainly changing her tune.
And Harry couldn't wait to discover what was so interesting about a book that had grasped Hermione's attention so fiercely. But, as Ron had unhelpfully pointed out, any book would interest Hermione, no matter if it was interesting or not. Still, Harry wished now that he'd taken the time to at least skim through the book before he had arrived at Grimmauld Place and told the others about it.
"Alright you lot," said Mrs Weasley now, breezing into the drawing room, her hair looking slightly harried. "Dinner is on the table, but I want you to wash up first. You too Sirius." She spared an oppressive glance at Sirius's ash-smudged face and hands. "George what are you doing with those curtains? Stop playing around please. And Harry, make sure that Muck stays on the floor this time."
"Don't worry Mum," said Ron, barely repressing a chortle. "She's not going to attack Moody again."
"Well thank goodness for that!" said Mrs Weasley restlessly. "But it doesn't matter since he isn't here. Oh, I've also drawn an extra chair for Elizabeth, if I'm not wrong that she's arriving soon."
Harry's heart swelled at remembering that his sister was coming back tonight. He and Sirius exchanged heart-filled grins.
"I'm giving you five minutes, everyone, or we start eating without you," were Mrs Weasley's last words before she whirled out of the drawing room.
xxxxxx
"What are you grinning about Harry?" asked Hermione after she, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Fred and George walked up the stairs to the second landing, making their way toward the bathroom. They had parted with Sirius at the top of the stairs. He had left to go to his room to wash up, which had an ensuit. Muck was walking under their feet. Incredibly, no one had stepped on her yet.
"I've just remembered that Elizabeth's going to bring me a souvenir from whatever country she's been to."
"Wicked!" said Ron, Fred and George together.
"Have any idea what it'll be?" asked Ron, pushing open the door to the large bathroom. They each moved to the four separate taps stored below the large snake-head framed mirror. Fred and George, and Ginny and Hermione shared a tap, respectively.
"Haven't a clue," Harry admitted, now soaping his hands. "But I know it'll be something really cool! She always gets me stuff like that."
"Yeah," said Ron, looking curiously over at Harry. "Like that leather jacket?"
For some reason, Harry blushed at this. "Yeah," he mumbled. "But not just that. One time she got me these 'Boardie' things. Er . . . they're swimming trunks." Harry explained to Ron's questioning look. Fred and George snorted. "And a pair of, um, 'flip flops'. Because she lives near the beach and we went swimming everyday. . ."
Fred whistled. "No wonder you don't look that pasty anymore."
Harry was too happy about Elizabeth's upcoming arrival to be embarrassed about that.
"Yes well, as interesting as all this is . . ." said Hermione, taking the time to wipe her hands on overhanging towel, before turning to face the others. "I'm afraid we have some rather difficult news."
Hermione's tone sounded so disappointed and apprehensive all at once that everyone immediately gave her their undivided attentions.
She drew in a lungful of air. "I've just finished reading Animagus: How to become one –"
"Already?" Ron said, half in awe half mockingly.
Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard him. "– and I was right about it being an extremely difficult process. The strength and determination it would take to achieve the transformation . . . well, that's bad enough, but the potion will probably be the worst. Some ingredients just aren't sold in apothecaries. And one ingredient I haven't even heard of, not to mention I've no idea where to find it. And if we do finally learn where to find it, we'll probably have no access to it. Who knows, we might have to gather it ourselves –"
"Are you saying we won't be able to do –?" said Harry quickly, but Hermione interrupted.
"Not at all! I'm just saying it's going to throw a wrench in our plans. It's probably going to take a really, really long time to research everything and to find that wayward ingredient. And that doesn't even count brewing the potion, drinking it, and actually taking the initiative to transform into our animals without flinching or being afraid." She cast a glance at Ron as she said this. "No wonder it took the Marauders three years to become Animagus's Harry. If they had as much trouble getting that one ingredient as we're going to have . . ." she trailed off at the look of burgeoning disappointment on everyone's faces.
"But–But if Harry's dad and Sirius managed to do it," said Ron, "surely we can? Surely the ingredient is something they had access to? They must have found it at Hogwarts. They couldn't leave Hogwarts during the school year after all."
"That's sound reasoning Ron, but you're forgetting something," explained Hermione patiently. "It took them three years. Which means they did leave Hogwarts. They went home for the Summer holidays."
"And who knows," said George, leaning in slightly. "Maybe the ingredient was something Sirius's mother had stashed away here at Number Twelve? If it isn't easily accessible like you said Hermione, it has to be something bordering on illegal, right? And we know the Black's were all into that kind of stuff. Maybe Sirius filched it from his dear old mum? Simple as that."
Harry thought this was a bit extreme. Hermione, however, looked thoughtful. "You know George; I wouldn't be surprised if it was something like that. Sirius might well have known what the ingredient was without having to research it. He is a Black, as you said."
"Yeah," said Ron, looking like he wanted say something impressive as well. "A-and he, er, he probably could've heard illegal things discussed around the dinner table all the time while he lived here, right Hermione?"
"But that could mean that it might still be here!" said Harry, becoming excited.
"With all the cleaning we've been doing?" Hermione snorted. "We've probably thrown it out by now if it really was here."
The others looked horrified at that.
"Let's just hope that Kreacher's sneaked some out then," said Ron hurriedly. "We can nip up to the attic after dinner and go through the stuff he's nicked."
"I doubt it's there, Ron," said Hermione. "He only steals things that have value to the Black family name, or something personal of Mr and Mrs Black's. He won't bother with a potion's ingredient. Also, we're basing this on an assumption. It might not have even been here at all. Besides, we don't even know what it's supposed to look like. We have to research it first."
"Well how can we do that if we don't know anything about it?" Ron exploded.
"I never said that," said Hermione calmly. "All I said was that we don't know what it looks like. But we do know its name. Brillogsopor Clanniria. Now all we have to do is start researching."
All the boys silently groaned at seeing Hermione's glowing expression of anticipation.
"Well it's not going to drop in our laps, is it?" she gritted out, after observing their hang-dog faces.
"Well, erm . . . we can't do anything now!" declared Ron triumphantly. "We'll have to wait until Hogwarts begins to start searching the library."
Hermione looked like she just barely managed to restrain from rolling her eyes. "Honestly Ron! Do think there aren't any books here?"
Ron's ears grew red.
"Er, but we'll still leave that for you to do if you don't mind Hermione," said Fred quickly. "You're the best at research. We'll just get in the way."
Harry, Ron, and George nodded.
Ginny glared at them. "I'll help, Hermione," she stated. "In the meantime, shouldn't we be having dinner?"
Ron's eyes bulged. "They've started without me!" he choked, before whizzing out the door.
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Later that night Harry awoke to a particularly vicious snore from Ron's end of the room. Normally, he would not have minded hearing his friend's vocal symphony (he would just go straight back to sleep anyway), but this time he became annoyed. Couldn't Ron have thought to keep his snoring to himself? That way Harry would not have had to exit the interesting dream he'd been having. It hadn't been an ordinary dream; he knew that much; which was why it made him so curious to find out its conclusion, and so annoyed at his best friend.
In his dream he had walked down a long corridor, at the end of which there was a locked door, light shimmering around its border. He desperately wished to discover what rested behind that door. And he would have made it, would have almost touched the handle, if it weren't for –"
"HAARGGHHHH!"
Ron's snoring seemed a thousand times louder now that he was awake.
"Ugh! I'm going downstairs." Harry threw back the covers, shuffled into his carpet slippers, and opened the door.
A tugging on his pyjama-pant leg brought his attention down. Muck sat squatting, looking up at him. He resisted the urge to either laugh or roll his eyes. Soon he wouldn't even be able to go to the bathroom alone.
"You stay here," he told her. She blinked and cocked her head to the side. "I'll be fine, go back to sleep. Or you can watch over Ron for me." She blinked again. She hesitated. She turned. She trotted over to Ron's side of the room. Harry waited until she curled up at the foot of Ron's bed before closing the door.
As Harry walked the hallway and down the stairs he could not help noticing how much spookier Grimmauld Place seemed when no one was about. For one it was completely dark, no lamps of any sort lit the corridors. For another, the elf-heads framing the staircase appeared grotesquely alive, and the portraits in the hallway, creepily, reminded him so much of those scary haunted house movies, where the hero would walk in and the paintings would follow him around with their eyes. The fact that Harry knew the paintings were following him with their eyes as he passed under them, was, disturbingly, even scarier than if he didn't know. And the fact that all of them were Black ancestors didn't exactly help to bolster his confidence either. It gave him the collywobbles.
When Harry passed Mrs Black's portrait on the first landing he jumped when it gave a grunting snore. He snorted in disgust at himself, realizing he was being stupid, and pushed open the door to the drawing room.
This room, in similarity the rest of the house, was totally black, no pun intended. All Harry could see was the very faint murky outlines of the furniture. The cupboard, the mantelpiece, the chair, the sofa, and a couple of other things that he knew were in the room, but he couldn't see. Harry thought that since it was the middle of the night and he couldn't exactly fall asleep upstairs, it was a good idea to move to the sofa now and catch a couple of winks there instead.
He did just that, moving slowly in case he tripped over any stray washcloths and the like that might have been left from their cleaning earlier. When Harry reached the sofa he slipped off his tartan slippers, stretched a bit, and slumped heavily down on something squishy; something moving.
The squishy thing went "AAAGGHH!" just as Harry jumped up, in the process tripping over his carpet slippers, and landing stupidly on his face.
"What in Merlin –?" said a groggy voice. "Who's there? Lumos. Harry? What the heck are you doing down there? Hang on, I'll help you up."
The voice was now recognisable as Elizabeth. Harry felt her literally pick his entire body up off the ground before plonking it next to her on the couch.
"Are you all right?" she asked, moving her wand towards his face so that he had to squint to see anything. "Oh sorry. Nox." There was darkness. "What are you doing down here at this time of night?"
Harry coughed. "Me? What are you doing here? How come you didn't turn up at dinner? Mrs Weasley even had an extra plate set out for you."
"Oh." Even though it was dark and Harry couldn't see much beyond Elizabeth's outline, he could tell that she sounded sheepish. "Well, I did say about two days didn't I? Not exactly two days. I can't help it if you interpret my words differently. Anyway, I arrived about three hours ago. I didn't want to wake your friends up by sneaking into their room, so I thought to sleep here. Speaking of, what are you doing here exactly?"
"Couldn't sleep."
"Really?" There was enough sarcastic inflection in that word that Harry couldn't possibly miss its meaning. He had accidentally sat on her with the intention of napping, after all.
"Alright, I could sleep," he said, realising he'd just left his glasses upstairs, "but not with Ron in the same room."
"Ah. Snores like an ox does he?"
Harry sputtered to keep from laughing. "Does an ox snore?"
Harry could almost feel the shrug in her voice. "Wouldn't have a clue."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.
"So," Harry finally said, convincing himself he wasn't fishing for the present his sister had promised him. "You've been to how many different places?"
"About a dozen," she answered. "And yes babe, I did get you a souvenir."
Harry blushed at her dry tone.
"As a matter of fact Mabani gave it to me. Said you'd know what to do with it."
Harry felt the couch scrunch as Elizabeth stood up and rummaged through a pile of clothes at its foot. It was only then Harry noticed she was wearing her watermelon pyjamas.
"Here we are!" She hopped back on the sofa. Harry could just make out what looked like a small oval thing sitting in her hand. He took it.
"What is it?"
"Don't know. There's some kind of powder in it." She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "If you ask me, it's the same stuff Mabani puts in his smoking rod. And that's why he's so, erm, unconventional."
"You mean to tell me this stuff is . . . you know?"
Elizabeth laughed stiflingly. "Wouldn't count on it!" More laughter. "He wouldn't give you something like that."
"Right." Harry pocketed it.
Elizabeth tapped the side of his shoulder. "Anyway babe, I thought you'd like to know that our house is almost finished."
Harry sat up. "Y-you mean the one in Surrey."
"Yes. Are you all right? You seemed disappointed."
"I wasn't," said Harry quickly.
"Harry it's okay. We don't have to move there straight away if you don't want to. I know you'd like to be with your friends. And Sirus and Remus. I do too, now that I think about it. It's been too long since I've seen them. Can hardly remember them as it is. I want to get to know them again."
Harry sighed in relief. "Okay." Then he yawned, loudly, and ran a hand through his hair. He stood up reluctantly and mumbled, "I better go to bed. Ron ought to have stopped snoring by now."
"Don't be an ass," said Elizabeth conversationally. Harry gaped. There was movement as she drew over the covers from the other side of the couch. "You can sleep here. There's plenty of room if we both tuck our feet in. It'll be all warm and snuggley. Come on!"
Harry grinned and sat back down, drawing the rest of the covers about himself. Elizabeth leaned her head against his shoulder just as he rested his on the sofa's armrest. "You make a very comfortable pillow." She yawned. "My Harry." All too soon her breathing became steady, the sign of a deep sleep.
Harry spared her a fond look, his chest swelling with so much happiness he thought it would burst. This wasn't his life, surely? Harry Potter didn't get to have a proper family, or friends, or godparents, or anything like that, with them all living under the same roof where he had access to them whenever he liked. Yet here they all were. He couldn't believe it. Since he'd met Elizabeth, everything seemed to be going right. Everything seemed to fit so smoothly. His life seemed to make sense. He just hoped it didn't change.
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A/N: Now you know how Buffy features into the story.
And now you know a little bit more about Elizabeth's life prior to meeting Harry.
Also, you guys remember Tony don't you? From the fourth chapter? Elizabeth mentioned him to Dumbledore. He's just a friend she knew from school that drifted away. No one even remotely important.
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I would like tons of reviews please. Actually, I'm surprised how fast I've updated this time around.