DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine. I'm borrowing them from the esteemed Joss Whedon and J.K. Rawling.
SPOILERS/BACKGROUND: Everything from BtVS Season 1 to Season 6, AtS Seasons 1 to 3, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
THANKS AGAIN to DragonKatGal for the plug in her latest chapter of A Witch's Family … now if everyone could just politely go nag her to update What You Did … ;-0)
Reviews always welcome!
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CHAPTER 2:
WELCOME TO ENGLAND
"London!" Willow announced expansively as they disembarked at Heathrow.
"You're looking better already."
"I've always wanted to study abroad," Willow admitted. She left unsaid that it did feel really good to get away from Sunnydale. She would have stayed there as long as her friends were there, but it felt good to get away, and even better to get away with her best friend in the world and with a good excuse other than being petrified at the thought of what might happen to her at any moment to anyone living on the mouth of Hell.
"Well, let's not dawdle," Buffy said, scanning the row of people just outside customs, holding up signs with people's names on them. There had to be at least a hundred of them. "This could take a while."
"Umm … I kind of doubt it," Willow said nervously.
"Why? … Oh." Buffy answered, following Willow's gaze.
A man was standing at the other end of the line, holding up a sign that said "Rosenberg" in bold maroon crayon. At least, Buffy thought it was a man. People were giving him a wide berth, probably just in case he lowered his arms. He was easily the largest man Buffy or Willow had ever seen, nearly twice as tall as Buffy herself, and easily four times as wide. He had a ragged mop of earthen-brown hair and a full, bushy beard. Willow and Buffy approached him slowly.
"Miss Rosenberg?" he asked politely, albeit with a thick brogue that sounded somewhat Scottish, although not entirely so.
"Um … yeah …"
"Pleasure to meet yeh," he said. He sounded a lot like Nicholas Flamel, actually, even though they looked absolutely nothing alike—both gruff but pleasant and polite at the same time. He extended an enormous hand for Willow to shake, which she did tentatively. He seemed to be experienced at shaking smaller people's hands, at any rate, since he didn't jar her shoulder too badly. Buffy gave him a much firmer handshake, but then again, she was still the Slayer; she probably wasn't thinking about how this man could have held her head as a wiffle ball.
"And you are …"
"Rubeus Hagrid," the man answered. "Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."
"So you work for Dumbledore?" Willow asked.
"Sure do," Hagrid answered. "Ain't no one better to work for in the wiz … our world, and no place better 'n Hogwarts, neither."
There really wasn't much either of them could say to that, so Buffy decided to ask the next obvious question. "So where are we going?"
"Well, shoppin', 'course," Hagrid answered quickly. "Yeh both did bring yer lists, didn't yeh?" Willow nodded.
"Right then, well, we're off to Diagon Alley."
Buffy had bought a map of London for tourists before coming, and immediately pulled it out. She was much less comfortable than Willow being in an unfamiliar city.
"Yeh won't find it on that," Hagrid warned her.
"What? Oh, right," she said, putting two and two together.
The trip across town was interesting, to say the least; Hagrid got stuck once in the gates to the London Underground, and again on the way out, and took up three seats on the train, but seemed to take everything in stride, including the incredulous looks he got from passersby. At least Buffy and Willow could say that they weren't worry about purse-grabbers.
"Here we are!" Hagrid announced as they stopped outside the entrance to a dirty old tavern. The Leaky Cauldron, the sign above it read.
"This doesn't look like much of a store," Buffy ventured.
"Nope," Hagrid agreed. "The entrance is through the back." Without another word, he ducked through the doorway and went in. Willow and Buffy followed in his wake.
With the exception of the fact that everyone within was dressed as outlandishly as the people who had teleported into Buffy's house only days earlier, the tavern looked fairly normal.
"Summer schoolers?" the bartender asked as Hagrid passed the bar.
"Yep. Jest in from America this mornin'. Foreign 'xchange kids."
"Really? Been a while since we had anyone from across the Pond."
"Lotsa things changin' recently," Hagrid noted.
"Amen to that," the bartender agreed, and the trio moved on to the patio in the back. There was no door in sight.
"I'm sort of not seeing it," Willow admitted.
"Yer sorta not meant to," Hagrid agreed with a grin. He walked to the wall at the back of the patio, and began moving some of the blocks in the wall around; they moved as easily as if they were only magnets on a refrigerator. "Three up, two to the left," he muttered to himself, then tapped the wall with his walking stick.
An opening appeared in the wall, which quickly spread outward until there was suddenly an inviting circular archway leading into a street that, had Willow gone out and walked around the building, she was sure she would not find. There were all kinds of clearly 'wizarding' folk bustling around, and all kinds of quaint shops that looked vaguely like something out of a Renaissance fair, selling all kinds of things that Willow doubted she would find anywhere else.
"Here it is! Diagon Alley!" Hagrid announced, leading them through the archway. Willow and Buffy both looked at each other, shrugged, and followed immediately. They had both seen stranger sights.
"Wow, it's like the Mall of Magic," Buffy observed as they walked on through the crowd.
"Aren't we supposed to stop there?" Willow asked Hagrid, noting a sign over one of the stores that read Flourish & Blotts. Another letter had told her where she was likely to find most of the stuff the two of them needed.
"'Course, but ye'll be needin' money now, won't you?"
"They don't take Visa?"
"Eh? What's Visa?"
"Never mind."
"No one in Diagon Alley's gonna take Muggle money. Gonna take wizard money. Knuts, sickles, and galleons, we call them … twenty-nine knuts to a sickle and seventeen sickles to a galleon, yeh'll pick it right up, we just need to get you some."
"Um … right," Buffy said, her head hurting.
"So, is there a bank somewhere where we can take out a loan?" Willow asked. She had never expected to need a student loan in her life—Stanford had offered her a full ride, after all—but she had obviously not expected to be going to a place like this.
"Ey, whaddaya take us for?" Hagrid answered. "We weren't gonna make you start out like that. Besides, yeh're new at all this, shouldn't be takin' loans from goblins anyway."
"Goblins?" Buffy asked.
"Goblins," Willow answered, pointing ahead of them to a building labeled Gringott's Wizarding Bank on the corner of the block in front of them. A creature in an official-looking suit stood outside it that was quite clearly a goblin.
"Wow. And we do business with goblins?"
"Second-best security in the world, after Hogwarts," Hagrid replied. "And right here in Diagon Alley, though their vaults are all over, underground."
They had entered the bank by this time. Hagrid quickly found an available teller and thrust Willow and Buffy forward in front of him.
"Yes?" the teller asked.
"Miss Summers and her friend'll be wantin' to make a withdrawal," Hagrid announced.
The goblin looked up from where he had been scribbling in a book almost half as large as he himself. "And do either of them have their key?"
"I got it," Hagrid said. "Oh, and they'll be needin' a copy, sharin' a vault and all."
"Certainly," the goblin answered, taking the key from Hagrid. A moment later, he was handing two keys back to the enormous man.
"Right this way, please," the goblin continued, leading them off to a door behind the teller's desk.
"We have a vault?" Buffy asked Hagrid.
"And I'm just 'Miss Summers' friend'?" Willow asked.
"What? Oh, heh," Hagrid laughed. "Yep, yeh've got a vault, a gift from Dumbledore. Ministry insisted on it. Sort of, anyway; they was all goin' off about how he needed to track where you spent money, 'specially you, Miss Rosenberg, beggin' yer pardon, so he comes back and says fine, he'll put you both on scholarship, then the bills'll come to him anyway."
"That's … nice, I suppose, but I really don't want to be spending anyone else's money," Willow answered.
"Well, 'course not, but yeh may not have much of a choice, yeh know. Muggle money won't be workin' here. Didn't sound like he was talkin' about much, 'fact it seemed like it was a little account he keeps around just fer helpin' people. Not like yeh'll be impoverishin' the poor man, anyway, 'less yeh spend like crazy, which he doesn't seem to think yeh'll be doin'."
"We won't," Buffy promised.
"Vault 664," the goblin said, bringing the car to a halt. They got out at a landing in front of a large steel door. For some reason, once Willow had gotten out of the car, a strange shudder ran through her, a feeling like hearing a familiar sound just at the edge of hearing. She cast a quick glance to her left, which for some reason felt like the direction from which the sensation had come, even though she had no way of knowing. There was nothing but a rock wall there. She shook it off a moment later.
The goblin took the key from Willow, inserted it into the lock, and a moment later, the door swung back.
"Little?" Buffy mused in a hushed voice.
The vault was nearly the size of Buffy's basement, and it was piled from floor to ceiling with stacks and stacks of coins. Several piles gleamed with the dim, burnished glint of bronze and the moonlike glint of silver, but many clearly glowed with the unique radiance of gold.
"Well, that's a pretty fer the eye an' no mistake," Hagrid said as his eyes adjusted to the light.
"Goddess …" Willow whispered.
"Well, come on, haven't got all day," Hagrid said, regaining his composure. "Here." He took two small belt pouches from within his coat somewhere and filled them with gold. "That oughta be more 'n enough to buy everything yeh both need fer the year. Oh, look, looks like Dumbledore's been here." He pulled a note off the back of the door.
Willow took it and read it.
Miss Rosenberg and Miss Summers,
This vault is a Trust Fund. The contents have nothing to do with how much you spend, unless in spending it you abuse an old man's trust. Be good.
A.D.
Willow looked up at the piles of gold and silver again. She would swear that she was reading the implications wrong, but Buffy saw the same thing in the note that she did.
"Looks like someone still trusts you, Will," she said. "Quite a bit, too."
Willow buried her face in her hands and wept.
Several minutes later, they left the vault; the goblin was getting impatient and was not the most emotional of characters. Willow felt the same surge in the foyer of the vault that she had earlier, like a familiar presence nearby. She shrugged it off again, however, and the goblin took them back up to the lobby. Willow had almost forgotten about the chill by the time she and Buffy had gotten back out to the street, pouch of gold in hand.
"Shopping?" Buffy asked cheerily. For some reason, having a pouchful of wizard money seemed to be having a magical effect on her mood.
"Shopping," Willow answered.
For the next several hours, Buffy and Willow went from shop to shop, sometimes just browsing, sometimes actually buying things when they happened to come to shops that they had been told they would need to visit. They also listened in on other kids gossiping about Hogwarts, and a few hushed whispers about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They noticed a fairly large crowd clustered around numerous different pubs drinking butterbeer, but decided to leave that for another time; even in another country, they weren't ready to start drinking at four in the afternoon.
Evening was setting, and the shops were getting ready to close, but Buffy and Willow were a long way from tired. There were only two shops left to hit, anyway. The sign above the first hung not from a bar or post, but from a broomstick, and the store was labeled Quality Quidditch Supplies. It seemed to be a popular store, particularly with the younger crowd, both inside and out; there was a small crowd of people even younger than Buffy and Willow were now clustered around the window outside, looking at, of all things, a broom.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that isn't just for sweeping floors," Buffy surmised.
"Not a chance," Willow said. "They're definitely of the airborne variety. And I think Quidditch is a game of some kind … remember those guys talking back in the bar? They sounded just like guys talking about baseball back home."
"Guys will be guys," Buffy agreed.
"Should we stop?"
"Do we need brooms?"
"Maybe, especially if you're going to take a flying class. Besides, it sounds like everyone has one by our year"
"Might as well, then. Just to blend in."
The fawning over the new broom continued inside. Buffy stopped to look a the plaque by the display: Coming soon! The new Skyfire, the latest in the Firebolt line! Pre-order yours today, have it by fall!
"Doesn't sound so different from our world," Buffy mused as she followed Willow into the shop.
Buffy noted that for all of the people browsing around and looking at things in the store, only one person was actually at the counter buying anything, a tall, flaxen-haired youth of about sixteen, maybe a year or two older, that seemed to be just filling out the height that he had recently acquired. Buffy watched him idly out of the corner of her eye, a mischievous grin gradually spreading across her face. The boy definitely had potential, she decided, giving him an appraising glance up and down while being as inconspicuous as possible.
"When will it be coming in?" the boy was asking the shopkeeper.
"Early September at the earliest, I'm afraid. They're having to import wood from Canada because the harvest here was lousy. But they'll have it in by season's start, or there'll be riots."
"I need it by the start of practice season, not playing season," the boy answered.
"Should be in by then. The first ones are supposed to be all going to the national players, though."
The boy wordlessly threw another few gold coins down on the counter.
The shopkeeper grinned, thinking no one was watching, and slipped the coins into his back pocket. "But there will always be a few spares," he noted dryly.
"Excellent," the boy answered, and he turned away from the counter, further into the store. Apparently he wasn't finished shopping. However, it suddenly occurred to Buffy that she had been standing too long in one place, and Willow was already looking at a row of brooms along the back wall, simpler and less prominently displayed than the Skyfire prototype in the window. Buffy walked over to join her.
"See anything that catches your eye?"
"Brooms," Willow answered honestly. "They're all the same to me. I could have brought one from my closet at home."
"Don't look to me for help," Buffy answered.
"Think we could ask someone else?"
"Doesn't look like this place has people walking the floor," Willow answered. "And I'm not exactly good with the whole asking strangers thing."
Buffy grinned. "But that's where I come in," she said, giving Willow a friendly pat on the back. She turned around, already knowing who she was going to look for, and found him not far away, looking at what appeared to be a picture album of Quidditch moves: Play Like A Viktor, the title read, causing Buffy to wonder if 'victor' was spelled differently in England or if an editor somewhere had not done his job.
"Excuse me," she asked, walking up to him.
He put the book down and gave her a quizzical look. "Yes?" he asked.
"I … don't suppose I could ask you to give my friend and me a hand here? We're kind of new at this."
He looked about to blow her off, but for some reason seemed to think differently of it at the last moment, then shrugged. "Sure, why not? Not like I'm doing anything."
Buffy smiled and brought him back over to where her friend was standing.
Willow cocked an eyebrow at Buffy. "Making friends already?"
"Trying, but we haven't even gotten to names yet," Buffy answered.
The blond-haired boy gave them both rather incredulous looks, then shrugged with a wry smile. "You don't know me? I take it you're new in town? I guess you sound like it, don't you? Americans?"
"Born in the USA," Buffy answered with a smile. "And should we know you?"
"An awful lot of people seem to," the boy answered, and actually grimaced.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"It has its ups and downs. Right now, mostly downs."
"Sorry to hear that. But can you tell us anyway?"
"What? Why …? Oh, just the name part. Right. Draco. Draco Malfoy."
"Buffy Summers," Buffy answered, "and my best friend in the world, Willow Rosenberg."
"Pleased to meet you," he answered formally, with a slight incline of his head. For some reason, Buffy got the distinct feeling that this boy did not come from a poor household. There was an aristocratic air about him. He didn't wear it as arrogantly as he might have, but there was enough of it there for her to feel.
"So anyway, we're new at all this … can you tell us exactly what we should be looking for in a broom?"
Draco smiled. "Depends on what you want it for, and how much you're willing to pay."
Willow gave a hesitant shrug, but Buffy answered simply, "we're not poor. Just not up to buying Skyfires."
Draco grinned. "Fair enough. Well, if you want a comfortable ride, the Cloud Nine series is probably a good bet—smooth and reliable. Been around forever, too. For a little more adventure, a Comet Two-Sixty or Cleansweep Seven are still common models, though they're getting a little old; everyone used to use them. Not the best, but not the worst. If you want to play competitive Quidditch, the Firebolt is a great buy at the moment, because with the Skyfire coming out, it's not going to be top of the line anymore. It'll still cost you a bit, though. Some other good models are the old Nimbuses; they still make them all the way back to the original Nimbus 2000, though they're up to the 2004 right now. Not quite as flashy as the Firebolt, but the older models won't cost you so much any more."
"Wow, you really know your stuff," Buffy said approvingly. "I think I actually understood it, and I've never been on a broom before."
"Never?" Draco was stunned. "What year are you going into?"
"Sixth," Buffy admitted.
"Didn't you have to take flying lessons your first year in America?"
"Not exactly," Buffy admitted uncomfortably.
"It's all right," Willow said. "I think I've heard enough. Definitely Cloud Nine for me." She reached up and picked one off the rack.
Buffy looked for a few more minutes, Draco following her eyes where they went. Eventually, her eyes settled on one hanging from the ceiling nearly directly above her; it was smooth and black, with gold inlays, and a streamlined tail. She raised her arm, palm upward as if to catch it if it were to fall. For some reason, that broom gave her a different feeling in her mind when she looked at it.
"That one!" she said.
Suddenly, the broom pulled free of the strap that had held it aloft and dove into Buffy's outstretched hand. Her eyes widened, and she nearly dropped it. Willow backed up a step.
"Hey, it likes you," Draco said with a grin.
"I guess so." Buffy actually did like the feel of the broom in her hands; it felt … natural, somehow. She wasn't completely sure she wasn't going crazy, but it felt good.
"Is that a good one?" Willow asked. "It looks good … if it's possible for a broom to look good …"
"Of course it does," Draco said with an impish grin. "It's a Nimbus 2001. I've been using one just like it for four years now."
"Really?" Buffy was surprised. "Well, if it worked for you, I guess it can work for me."
"I love it," Draco agreed. "But I've got to warn you, it can be too fast for its own good sometimes. Don't get it unless you're in really good shape, it can be tough to hold onto."
Buffy grinned. "I'll be all right."
Draco shrugged. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."
"I won't," Buffy answered.
"Are you staying at the school this summer?"
"Hogwarts?"
"There aren't any other schools in England."
"Sorry, I didn't know. Yeah, I'll be there."
"Splendid. I'm staying there, too. Maybe I can teach you how to fly that thing."
"Sounds great," Buffy answered with a smile.
For some reason, Draco seemed actually surprised to hear that response from Buffy. Buffy arched an eyebrow at him, and he seemed to be at a loss for words.
"Well, I'll see you there whenever you get there," he said. "Which train are you taking?"
Willow and Buffy looked at each other and shrugged. "Not sure," Buffy answered. "Whichever one Hagrid puts us on, I guess."
Draco's eyes clouded at the mention of Hagrid's name, and Buffy was about to ask why, but Draco didn't seem to want to talk about it. "All right, then, well, if I don't see you on the train, I'll see you at school."
"Sounds great," Buffy said again.
"Later," he said, turning and walking out of the store.
There was a brief pause, then Willow whispered in Buffy's ear, "I think he likes you."
Buffy spun around and was about to give a sharp retort, then settled for a modest shrug and a mischievous smile. A moment later, she held up her broom. "Ready to move on?" she asked.
"I think so," Willow answered, beginning to move to the counter.
"One shop left," Buffy answered. "Been quite a day."
"It has," Willow answered. "Been a while since we just got to shop and talk to boys. Almost feels normal. Except for the whole, you know, buying flying brooms part."
Buffy grinned as she placed the two brooms on the counter and began counting out galleons from her purse. She hoped she hadn't spent too much on her broom; she hadn't realized it was more than twice as expensive as Willow's, and she felt kind of guilty. She was glad there was only one shop left.
"So what's our last stop of the day?" Buffy asked as the two of them exited Quality Quidditch Supplies.
"That's the one," Willow said, pointing at the shop catty-corner across the street. It was a simple and aged-looking shop, but nonetheless well-kept. The sign above the door read:
Ollivander's
Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.
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COMING SOON: Chapter 3, "Choices of Wands." Buffy and Willow are both chosen by some rather atypical wands, and Willow gets a subtle hint that her past may not want to let her go just yet.
SNEAK PREVIEW: Willow looked horrorstruck. "I don't want this," she gasped hoarsely.
"Ah, but it is not entirely your decision to make. As Ollivander has no doubt told you, the wand chooses the wielder as much as the wielder the wand. Besides, if I truly believed you wanted to wield it, I wouldn't be giving it to you."
"Why wasn't something like that destroyed?" Buffy asked.