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.
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CHAPTER 20:
DINNER IN ATLANTIS
Willow stepped off the train at King's Cross on Wednesday morning with butterflies in her stomach. She checked her watch. They were right on time. She got off nervously and looked up and down the platform for him. He wasn't in sight. She was disappointed, even though she still had no idea what she was going to say to him. She walked once up and down the platform.
"Glad to see you made the train this time," a voice behind her said.
She jumped, spun around, and put a hand over her heart.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Harry said.
"No, no, it's fine," Willow said, forcing her breathing to steady. "It's good to see you again. I've just been kind of … well, dreading this for two days."
"Dreading what?"
"Oh, never mind. So, where are we going?"
Harry smiled. "Diagon Alley, of course. Where else?"
"Well, I was thinking we might want to try … well, Muggle food."
Harry laughed, and gave a mock-formal bow. "Fear not, fair lady, all has been arranged. There's a few great Muggle-food restaurants in Diagon Alley, they serve it like it's from another country. Besides, I don't really have much Muggle money."
"Oh. I guess I don't either, at that."
"Ah yes, but you're not the one paying tonight," Harry grinned, taking her hand to help her through the barrier off of platform nine-and-three-quarters.
"It's OK, you don't have to …"
"I know I don't have to," he cut her off softly. "I want to."
"Well … OK then."
They took the Underground for a few stops, then turned and walked through the Leaky Cauldron. Harry moved the blocks, and the archway opened onto the mystical mall of Diagon Alley, crowded with summer shoppers and tourists.
"So … are we eating now?" Willow asked hesitantly.
Harry looked at her. "If you want, we can … I was thinking it's a little early."
"Me, too."
"Anyway, I need to go to Gringott's to get some more money. I was hoping I could get away from Uncle Vernon earlier, but it didn't work out."
"That's fine, I could use a little extra, too."
"You have an account?"
Willow hesitated, remembering how the Trust Fund worked. "I hope so," she answered. "I'll explain later," she said, noting Harry's look.
They walked up the street towards the wizarding bank together, taking plenty of time to gawk at some of the unusual merchandise for sale in some of the shop windows and at some of the passersby, the mystical entertainers on street corners, and the different large posters announcing events that swirled and changed every few minutes, almost exactly like electronic billboards in the Muggle world.
They reached the bank, and a goblin named Fangfinger took them deep into the earth.
"Vault 687," Fangfinger announced as they drew alongside Harry's vault.
Harry got out, took out his key, and walked over to the vault door. It didn't look like anything different from Willow's own. He shot Willow a quick smile as he clicked the key in the lock, and the vault door swung open.
Willow's eyes goggled. There was almost as much gold in Harry's vault as there had been in her own. She had never heard that he had that kind of money.
"Wow," Willow breathed. "Is this something everyone knows about?"
"Not hardly," Harry answered. "My parents left this for me. You and Hagrid, and maybe Dumbledore, are the only ones to see it in the last sixteen years."
"Is it a Trust Fund?" Willow asked.
"A what?"
"I guess not."
Harry took a small handful of gold and slipped it into his pocket, but Willow whistled. How much was he planning on spending today? It would be easy to get conceited by how much she had seen in the only two vaults—well, the only two public vaults—that she had seen in Gringott's but she knew that most wizards had nowhere near that much, or prices throughout Diagon Alley would be higher. She fidgeted uncomfortably. She prayed silently that her own vault would still have money in it.
"Vault 664," Fangfinger announced as they drew alongside her own vault on their way back out of the catacombs.
She took out her key, approached her vault, and slipped into the lock. She looked back at Harry and gulped nervously as she turned the key. The vault swung open. Willow did not even look into the vault at first; she kept her eyes focused on Harry, trying to guess what she might see from his reaction.
Harry's eyes bulged, and his mouth dropped open.
Willow allowed herself a grin then as she turned to examine the contents of her vault, and her own eyes bulged as well. The Trust Fund had grown. There was more gold in places where there had chiefly been silver and bronze, and here and there, enormous jewels could be seen poking through the piles. Willow caught a glimpse of a note pinned on the inside of the door.
I heard about Hogsmeade. Well done, both of you.
-- A.D.
She quickly pocketed the note before Harry could see it, but a brief surge of pride, and more than a little tinge of hope, went through her.
"It looks like I'm not the only one keeping secrets here," Harry said.
"I hope you weren't hoping to impress me with money," Willow said lightly, as she gathered a handful of gold about the same size as Harry had withdrawn and slipped it into her pocket. She also pulled out a separate pouch and filled it as well; Buffy had asked her to bring a little more back to Hogwarts, just to be safe.
"Of course not," Harry said, and Willow actually liked the slight tone of nervousness in his voice. "I just thought that … well, you said you were new in our world."
Willow understood. She was new, and neither of her parents were wizards, so there would be no reason to think she'd have much in the way of wizard money.
"It's a Trust Fund," she explained. "Dumbledore set it up for us. I don't really understand it myself." She stopped short of explaining exactly how it worked; she didn't want to sound like she was trying too hard to win his trust—and she wanted to do that on her own.
"Brilliant," Harry said, his eyes still wide. "Well, come on."
The rest of the afternoon passed like a dream to Willow. Diagon Alley turned out to be a lot bigger than she had previously realized; the main shopping avenue was all in one area, but there were dozens of smaller shops scattered around, including several a short distance off the main road, every one holding something utterly amazing and unlike anything Willow had ever seen before.
There were theatres that used transfiguration and charms to create amazing props and special effects, cafes with a wider variety of delicious smells than could be found in Manhattan, and art galleries with paintings that all moved, and many of which spoke. They passed lights and signposts in the wildest possible array of colors, and a giant three-dimensional illusion replaying matches from the Quidditch World Cup.
The evening got even better as it wore on. Willow was awed by a store that sold self-transfiguring furniture, and gave a short, embarrassing squeal of surprised laughter as Harry sat down on the opposite end of a plush, purple couch from her and it immediately shortened into a wide armchair with a suggestively curved seat. Willow bought a box of Every Flavor Beans, and she and Harry took turns, between giggles, of levitating them into each others' mouths. Harry bought her a handful of Surprise Seeds, which were enchanted flower seeds that grew to full bloom when touched and were always completely random; Willow gasped in surprise as a dozen pink and purple flowers, which she didn't recognize but which smelled beautiful, suddenly appeared in her hands.
The most amazing part of the afternoon, however, happened when Harry drew her into a large, curtained-off corner of the most opulent art gallery they had visited yet. An eccentric old man sat within, a small cauldron of a speed potion and a large easel next to his chair, and a small palette of colors in his hand. He was just finishing painting a rather regal-looking middle-aged couple; the colors on his palette changed to whatever was needed and his hands blurred as he moved, but the picture was almost perfect.
"Are we doing what I think we're doing?" Willow asked, remembering the paintings they'd been looking at all day, and the ones adorning the walls everywhere at Hogwarts.
"If you'd like," Harry said with a smile.
"Wow …" Willow breathed.
Thirty minutes later, Harry was arranging for a small portrait of the two of them to be shipped back to Hogwarts, while Willow waved to the image of herself, which waved back enthusiastically and gave her a sly wink just before Harry turned around again. Willow flushed.
"Ready to eat?" Harry asked as they left the gallery. Willow checked her watch. It was approaching eight o'clock. Where had the time gone?
"I think so," Willow agreed.
Harry gave a secretive smile. "Actually, you aren't," he said.
Willow gave him a questioning look. "I'm not?"
His smile became even more annoyingly knowing, but his voice was soft. "Close your eyes," he said.
"What?"
"Just for a moment."
Willow gave him another questioning look but obligingly closed her eyes. She heard him whisper something, but couldn't make it out. Suddenly, she felt a spell wash over her, and she tensed, backed up a step, and snapped her eyes open. Her footfall felt different and seemed to make a different sound than it had a moment ago.
"What was that?" she said nervously, then goggled as she looked at him. Harry was wearing a tuxedo! Despite how out of place it looked on him, she instinctively noted that he wore it surprisingly well. "Oh, wow," she said. "But I'm …" she was about to say she wasn't dressed to go to anywhere formal, but remembered the sound of her footfall a moment earlier, and once the shock of the feel of the spell wore off, she began to feel something else different across her body as well. She was already giving him an amazed look—though with no small amount of trepidation—as she looked down at herself.
Her eyes opened wider. Cordelia would have fainted of envy had they met at the moment. She was wearing a long, sleeveless, form-fitting evening dress of midnight blue, with faint crystal beads that glittered like distant stars on the bodice, reflecting the light differently depending on how she moved. A matching three-quarter-sleeved jacket hung open around her shoulders, so light as to be almost translucent, and also to avoid trapping any of the early July heat. She put a foot forward hesitantly to reveal soft, three-inch leather stilettos on her feet. Both her arms were sheathed in elegant opera gloves, and a thick triple bracelet of crystals matching those on her dress, only larger and more brilliant, adorned her left wrist.
"Do you like it?" he asked hesitantly. She looked at him again, and searched vainly for words to say. There was no way she could answer that.
Eventually, she simply smiled, giving him the most brilliant, content smile she could, and she saw his posture relax. A warm, matching smile spread across his face as well.
"McGonagall and Hermione have really been pushing me in Transfiguration," he explained modestly. Then, somewhat less modestly, "I wonder if they'd let me turn you in for extra credit."
"Hey, hey," she said, but there was no heat behind it. She felt around herself as though trying to see if it were an illusion. Then she realized he had affected her clothes, but nothing about her body was changed; she was still wearing the same hair she had worn all day.
"Just needs one more thing," she said, fixing an image of herself in her mind. "Hygienis femina." Her hair drew itself up into a loose, elegant bun, and her lips and eyelashes darkened a fraction of a shade. Harry's eyebrows raised approvingly, and Willow felt her stomach do a cartwheel, though it calmed much more quickly than she would have believed.
"Beautiful," he whispered, and Willow grinned. The actual sixteen-year-old her would have been utterly clueless here, but the twenty-one-year old in her knew he would have trouble taking his eyes off her tonight. She found that the thought definitely didn't bother her.
"Well, this is the place," he said, gesturing towards a restaurant just across the street. A gold sign above the blue-and-white marble columns around the entrance read Atlantis. As they crossed the street, she could hear soft music coming from within.
"Mr. Potter, I presume? Private booth for two?" the waiter at the podium at the front asked. Harry nodded.
As the waiter led them into the restaurant, Willow's jaws dropped. The room was two stories high, with light provided by floating crystal chandeliers that gave off a deep, ambient light that shifted every few seconds through a range of different aquatic hues. Rows of unlit fish tanks lined the walls, with hundreds of varieties of fish, all of which had been enchanted to glow with a soft blue-green light. Each table also sported a clamshell that glowed faintly, like a candle, in hues that changed along with the chandeliers above. The furniture, carpet, and everything else about the place was polished and pristine.
"Wow …" Willow gasped. She had had no idea that he had meant a place like this when he had invited her to dinner; she had been picturing one of the cafes that they'd been passing all day.
"It's been in the top five of the Daily Prophet restaurant rankings for the last five years," Harry said.
"Top three," the waiter said proudly as he showed them to their seats, in a private booth in a row against the wall a short distance away from the rest of the dining room. There were three glowing shells on this table instead of one.
"Anything for starters?" the waiter asked.
"A bottle of your best California white," Harry answered, smiling at Willow. Willow shrugged. Being from California didn't necessarily mean she liked California wines, but it was the thought that counted. "And we'd like the Muggle menu, please."
"Of course," the waiter said, walking away.
"Have you ever eaten here before?" Willow asked.
Harry laughed wryly. "Are you kidding? The best place I'd been to before this is the Three Broomsticks."
Willow laughed as well. "I guess we'll both be learning, then."
They made small talk until their dinners arrived, and Willow looked mouthwateringly both at her own sautéed Muscovy duck and Harry's veal tenderloin. Then Harry asked not to be disturbed for a while, and drew the curtains on the booth. The three glowing shells on the table immediately brightened, and floated off the table to hover near the ceiling of the booth to make up for the lost light from the room outside.
Willow looked at Harry questioningly. "Are we talking about serious stuff now?" She had known they were going to have to at some point, and she found herself thinking that doing so with a glass and a half of wine already in her might actually help.
Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure, I'm just being careful. A lot of Ministry officials eat here and meet in these booths, actually, so they're soundproofed and warded against spying."
Willow looked around. It certainly didn't look or feel magical, aside from the glowing seashells, but she knew by now that that was hardly necessary.
"I need to give you something," Harry continued. He reached within his tuxedo jacket, withdrew a folded piece of parchment, and laid it out on the table.
It was blank.
"Are you saying I don't write enough?" Willow asked.
Harry grinned. "Hardly. I love your letters." Willow felt a small surge of pleasure at that, but Harry had already continued. "This is more important, even though it wasn't meant to be."
Noting Willow's puzzled expression, he withdrew his wand and spoke clearly, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Willow grinned at that, as it actually seemed to go well with the image of his impish face in a tuxedo, but then her eye caught the parchment. It was no longer blank. Willow gasped as a map came into view, a map with moving words and symbols scattered all across it.
"It's a map!" she exclaimed.
Harry nodded, with a mischievous grin. "My father and his friends were called the Marauders at school. Yeah, don't ask. Anyway, they wrote this map after they started exploring all the secret passages and grounds of Hogwarts. See here, here's Snape in his office, there's Buffy, everyone in Hogwarts is there. Just about every secret passage is there, too, and if you go back to Hogwarts and approach the door to one, the password to open it will appear on the map, too."
Willow's eyes widened. "Pretty impressive," she said.
Harry nodded. "Dad, Sirius, and Lupin were getting pretty good by the time they wrote this, since they didn't start until their fourth year and they were among the best in the school. Well, unless you count getting into trouble."
"So … this is really great, Harry, but … why are you giving it to me?"
Harry sighed grimly. "I was going to give it to Lupin," he said. "By pure coincidence, Lupin happened to be attacked and driven out of the castle just before I could send it."
Willow's eyes widened. "So why give it to me?"
Harry smiled. "Because I trust you, and because Dumbledore and McGonagall may be being watched, too, and they're almost certainly too busy to make a trip to come get it."
She sighed at the mention of his trust, but continued, "So what do you want me to do with it?"
"Animagi show up on this with their real names. Lupin used it to spot Peter before."
Willow's mind clicked. "So you were going to send it to him so he could do the same thing again," she said. "But he got attacked."
"Exactly," Harry said.
"Thanks," Willow said. "Um … do you mind if I show Buffy how to work it, too?"
"Not at all," Harry agreed immediately. "Just be careful when and where you use it. Almost no one knows that map exists. It could be really dangerous if a Death Eater got hold of it. Also, to erase it, tap your wand to it and say 'mischief managed.'"
"Right," Willow said, and was about to put it away, when something else occurred to her. "Harry, if this shows where everyone is in the castle, why is Peter not here?"
Harry sighed. "Well, it could be he's simply not in the castle," he admitted. "But there may be hidden places that aren't on the map. In fact, I'm sure there's at least one, though Peter couldn't get there."
"Where's that?"
"Have you heard of the Chamber of Secrets?"
"I think I heard about it in Hogwarts: A History," Willow answered, "but it didn't really say much about it."
"It's a secret room that was put in by Salazar Slytherin when the castle was built, deep below the foundations. The entrance is right there in that girls' bathroom, but you can see it isn't on the map. Voldemort and I are the only ones to have opened it since Salazar, because you have to speak Parseltongue to open it."
"Parseltongue?"
"Snake language," Harry explained, looking at her warily for the first time.
She returned his wary look. How much did he know? "You … you can talk to snakes?" she asked.
"Does that bother you?"
"Well, no … should it?"
"A lot of people don't trust Parselmouths."
"Figures," Willow said glumly. She couldn't even pretend to be surprised.
"Why?" Harry asked.
Willow looked at him and concentrated. She had never tried to do this before. She touched the wand in her pocket for support, thinking the basilisk's fang core in there might help. She took a deep breath, and hissed at him.
"Because I just found out on Saturday that I could speak it," she hissed.
Harry's eyes widened in shock, and she could tell he had understood her. He looked at her wide eyed, and Willow felt herself growing nervous. She wondered if she had made a mistake, though she knew she shouldn't berate herself for being honest.
Harry took another gulp of wine. Willow did as well. A moment later a low, self-deprecating smile spread across Harry's face, and he raised his glass to her. "You're full of surprises, Willow," he hissed back.
"Thanks, I think," she answered in English, letting out an explosive breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.
"How did you find out?" Harry asked.
"Ron and Hermione got ahead of us chasing Peter. We lost track of them, and I asked to no one where they'd gone, and a little garter snake pointed out the way to the Shrieking Shack."
Harry grinned impishly, and shook his head. "Too useful," he said. "I accidentally set a python on my cousin at the zoo. The snake thanked me before it slithered off for Brazil."
"Harry!"
"It was an accident! Besides, the next time I did it was when I was trying to tell a cobra not to attack someone."
"That's better."
"How many people know?"
"Know what?"
"That you're a Parselmouth."
"Just me and Buffy. Actually, I don't think she even knows there's a term for it."
"You didn't even tell Ron and Hermione?"
"There wasn't a chance. They were already fighting Peter when we got to the shack, then I had to run to make the train back to Hogwarts. After that, I just forgot about it, thinking about Peter."
"Thinking about Peter?"
"What? Oh, no, just something … well, you know how he turned into an animal? I always thought it would be really great to be able to do that, but the last person I knew that turned themselves into a rat couldn't turn back. Not that I'd want to be a rat, but … and I'm just babbling now."
Harry laughed. "No, no! I understand. My father actually learned to do it when he was my age, so he could be with Lupin when he turned into a werewolf, but I never really thought about it myself."
"Really? What did he become?"
"A stag named Prongs."
"Better than a rat."
"Much," Harry agreed. "And Sirius could become an enormous black dog. It took them three years to learn to do it, though, and I've just never had that kind of time."
"I get that," Willow answered. "But it would still be awesome."
"It would," Harry agreed.
An uncomfortable silence followed, and both Willow and Harry took a few more bites of their dinners. Willow got the distinct impression that Harry still had something serious he needed to ask.
"What?" she asked.
"Well, it was just … I mean … well, never mind."
"What?"
"It's not something you'd probably even know."
"Well, all of this is pretty new to me, but I've picked up a lot."
"No, not really a school question. I've got Hermione for those," he added with a grin. The grin quickly faded however. "It's about, well, Parseltongue. It's almost unheard-of. I was wondering how you know it."
The words of the snake in Hogsmeade came back to her. You are connected to the Heir. Thoughts raced through her mind. Does he know about that? Does he know that's what's required? But wait … if he does … then that means …
"I only found out on Saturday," she answered. "I never practiced it or worked any magic to learn it. It just happened."
"I was the same way," Harry said, but Willow noted something different behind his eyes. For some reason, it reminded her of Tara when Willow had lied to her, when Tara had seen through her but had not said anything. She sighed inwardly. That was a mistake she could avoid making twice.
"The snake told me it had something to do with me being connected to the Heir."
A few wrinkles smoothed out of Harry's forehead, as though a headache had just vanished. He took a deep breath, and Willow fidgeted nervously.
She continued hesitantly. "Is … the Heir … who I think it is?"
Harry nodded wordlessly.
"Figures."
Harry took another deep breath, and another nervous sip of wine, then another deep breath. He wore the look of someone with a lot to say but nowhere to begin.
Willow spoke first. "Does that change anything about … well, us?" she asked nervously.
"What? Oh, no, no," Harry answered quickly.
"Harry … are you … connected … somehow, too?" Willow hoped she wasn't saying something horribly wrong.
Harry's lips compressed, but his voice was level. "I think you can figure that out."
"Because he tried to kill you?"
Harry nodded grimly. "When his spell rebounded, it left a permanent connection between us. Sometimes I can feel when he's truly angry, or excited. Sometimes I even enter his thoughts in my dreams. That was why I started taking Occlumency."
Willow's eyes had grown wide. There was so much in there, she didn't know where to begin. "I had a dream like that on Saturday," she said, "or at least, I think so. Were you in a room you didn't know, with people you didn't know, using magic you'd never heard before and all that?"
"Mostly," Harry agreed. He still seemed to be trying to continue the conversation with half his mind and size her up with the other. "The places and the people, anyway. I don't remember specific spells."
"They were scary," Willow said. "And powerful. There were three of them. Though maybe you already knew them. They weren't in any of the library textbooks, though. Imperio, …"
Harry started bolt upright, his wand in his hands in an eyeblink. Willow gave a startled yelp and threw up both of her hands, palms outward to show they were empty. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she cried. "I wasn't actually using it!"
Harry heaved several extremely deep breaths and finally lowered himself to his seat again. He kept his wand in his hand. Willow set her hands down on the table but kept them away from the edge to show that she wasn't reaching for her wand.
"Let me take a wild guess what the other two were," Harry rasped. "Crucio and Avada Kedavra."
"So you did already know them."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "They're called the Unforgivable Curses. Using any of them on another human being is a life sentence in Azkaban. The wizard prison. Though, now that the dementors have revolted, I don't know what would happen—Azkaban isn't much of a prison anymore."
Willow swallowed. "Right," she breathed. "Well, I wasn't using it."
"I see that now."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. Come to think of it, I've had all three of them used on me at some point, and I'm still here, so I guess I've been luckier than most people."
"I'm sorry anyway," Willow added weakly. She couldn't think of anything else to say. She was finding it extremely difficult to think of anything at the moment. A cold shiver ran down her spine.
Harry smiled, and put a hand out to rest on Willow's, where she had left it near the middle of the table to show that she wasn't reaching for her wand. "I'm sorry, too," he said softly. "I overreacted."
A flash of warmth spread up Willow's arm and throughout her body at that, but it quickly vanished. For some reason, she found herself thinking of Tara. Strongly. The warmth of Harry's touch was fading, and her hand shivered. The creases returned to Harry's forehead again, and she could tell that he was feeling whatever it was that he felt when she thought of Tara's bloodstained dress, her body crumpling in Willow's arms, the warmth flowing out of her onto the bedroom floor, the avatar of Osiris declaring the awful finality … "It is done …"
"Willow?"
She tried to break free of the reverie, but couldn't. It was then that she began to realize something was wrong. This flashback was deeper, more vivid, more sustained, and she couldn't force herself to break free of it. She could feel the darkness reaching out to enfold her, the welcome void, the only surcease from the pain …
Harry finally seemed to feel something as well, and his back stiffened. "Bloody hell," he growled, throwing back the soundproofed curtain to a scene of chaos in the restaurant outside. "Dementors." His wand was in his hand, but his voice was distant, and the edges of Willow's vision were growing blurry and dark.
Dementors? What were they? It didn't matter … all that mattered was Tara's body in her arms, and the mind-numbing, world-shattering voice tolling like a funeral bell …
It is done …
It is done …
Despair, anguish, pain, loss, grief, all rose in a flood from deep within her; she fought to control them but somehow couldn't. She tried to remember the things that had kept her sane, the people that cared about her, the people that she cared about, but for some reason those images were growing hazy, indistinct, dark. Then they were gone. She was alone. No one cared about her pain, her loss. No one would care how she hid from it.
At her subconscious command, darkness and power surged forth from within her like a great black wave, washing over her mind and soul. She drank deep on the intoxicating waters of oblivion once again, and let the Lethe-flood carry her away.
It is done …
* * * * *
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter was one of my favorites to write … I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Imagining Diagon Alley as a kind of downtown Manhattan or Picadilly Circus (for our overseas readers …) of the wizarding world was fun, and of course, the long-awaited first date between Harry and Willow (which we should know better than to expect to go smoothly).
Also, thanks again to everyone who reviewed my last installment! I never get tired of reading those.
COMING SOON: Chapter 21, "Secrets." Dark Willow is back, and Harry gets a firsthand look at the other side of everybody's favorite adorable computer nerd in action. Just a little something she had forgotten to mention to him, no biggie, right? … Right.
SNEAK PREVIEW:
"You have an interesting wand," he said. "I never really looked at it before. Yew, thirteen-and-a-half inches, if I'm seeing this right."