The Cupboard Under The Stairs

Buffy remained in her room for the rest of the day with only the boggart for company. Now it had stopped trying to terrify her it had become very inquisitive. It hovered in the darker sections of the room, watching her with big, round, curious eyes. Occasionally it would hang next to her shoulder and tried to peek at the book she was reading. When Buffy lifted the book up from the desk, it shot off to hide inside the wardrobe and wouldn't come back out until she promised not to hit it.

Buffy thought it was sort of cute, although not cute enough to keep around for any length of time. Remembering all the scratching and bumping around it had done the previous night, Buffy knew it would become much more active after dark and she wasn't looking forward to another night of disturbed sleep.

About an hour before dinner she remembered that she'd promised to set the tables in the dining room. She sent the boggart back into the wardrobe, shut the door, and left her room. There was no sign of Tom before or during dinner,and she guessed Mrs Cole had sent him out to run her errands. No doubt he'd eat later. She'd almost finished her own meal when she heard her name being called.

"Buffy!"

Looking up she saw Martha waving to her from the doorway that led out into the hall. Behind her, in the shadows of the hallway, Buffy could make out two men waiting in the shadows. She wasn't able to see their faces but saw that they both wore dark brown overcoats and one carried a briefcase. Her first thought was that they were the police and her second was that she needed to get out of there fast.

With a sharp reminder to herself that she hadn't done anything wrong – except sneak out in the middle of the night and kill a vampire - she swallowed her last mouthful of food. As she reluctantly got to her feet and began to make her way over, she noticed that the kids had gone quiet.

"Is she being arrested?" asked nine-year-old Trudy, looking at Buffy and then at the men lurking behind Martha.

"She's a German spy," a boy hissed loudly. The kids sat on that table began to whisper, eyeing her with with a mixture of fear and excitement.

The boy continued, "If she is, they'll take her to the Tower for interrogation, put her on the rack, and pull out all her toenails until she confesses."

His friend added, "They tie spies to posts and shoot them. I saw it in a film once."

Trudy started crying.

Ignoring the comments, Buffy forced a fake smile on her face.

"Buffy, these men," Martha gestured behind her, "are here to speak to you."

They stepped from the shadows and Buffy recognised them. Although at the time she hadn't got a good look at their faces, she felt sure these were the two who'd spoken to her Mom last night.

"This'll not take us long," the sandy-haired man said to Martha. "It's simply a case of asking Miss Summers a few questions, then we'll be on our way. There's no need to wait. We'll show ourselves out."

Buffy realised he was telling Martha in an underhand way that they didn't want her present during the interview. Was interviewing a minor without an adult present even legal? Suspicious, Buffy examined the two men more closely.

Both the dark-haired, older man and the fair-haired one wore their hair far longer than the current men's fashion. There was something else odd about them. It wasn't until Buffy studied their coats that she realised what it was. Brown overcoats might be common in 1940s London, but Buffy had never seen one made from fabric that shimmed when the light caught it.

"Buffy?"

Realising that she'd just been asked to follow them, Buffy trailed after them as they took her into Mrs Cole's empty office. There, the older man gestured for her to take a seat, while he sat in Mrs Cole's chair on the opposite side of the desk. Behind her, the younger man closed the door. Buffy heard the soft click of the key as it turned in the lock and then the air moved, causing her Slayer senses to tingle. The atmosphere around her became charged, reminding Buffy of –.

"Your name is Buffy Anne Summers, born January the 19th 1927 in Los Angeles, California?" the older man chanted, cutting into her line of thought.

Next to him, his companion placed the briefcase onto the desk, undid the clasp, and began unpacking a series of interconnecting metal rods. Buffy watched as the instrument took shape. It looked like a tiered stand with three eyeballs set on different levels.

"What is it?" she asked and at the sound of her voice, the eyeballs swivelled in her direction. Buffy stared back at them, intrigued and wary at the same time. "How does it-," she began and was cut off by the older man.

"Please, ignore this machine," he said gravely. "I'm afraid we aren't allowed to give you any explanation about what it is, how it works, or its purpose. You see, it's a top secret invention that we're still testing and we don't want the, er..." he trailed off, looking at his younger companion for help.

"We don't want the Germans to find out that we have it, else they'll be wanting one too," finished the sandy-haired man. He fiddled with a control on the back of the machine before sliding it across the table so that it was within a foot of Buffy. He adjusted it slightly, and once he was satisfied with the alignment, he moved away to stand by the wall.

The dark-haired man settled back in his chair, shuffling a sheaf of notes in his hands. Without looking up at her, he continued, "That's right, we mustn't let everyone know our secrets. Now, please answer the question."

"Huh? What question?" She'd forgotten what he'd asked, as her attention was on the left eyeball. It had dropped its gaze from her face to the neckline of her dress. Feeling uncomfortable that a random eyeball on a stick was ogling her, she raised a hand, tugging the neckline of her top upwards. What was the eyeball staring at anyway? Her fingers touched the ribbon holding the Gringott's key. Was it trying to see her key or sneak a peek down her bra?

"Your name is Buffy Anne Summers, born January the 19th 1927 in Los Angeles, California?" the older man wearily repeated.

"That's what it says on my passport and birth certificate. I was a bit young at the time and don't remember it all that well," she chirped back. From the corner of her eye, she caught a ghost of a smile on the young guy's face before it was quickly repressed.

The dark-haired man was not impressed. "This is a serious matter, Miss Summers, and you are at an official interview. This is not the time for flippancy and impertinence." He put down his paperwork and leaned over the table, giving her an intimidating glare.

Buffy leaned back in the chair, her chin raised, and hazel eyes shining with defiance. "If this is an official interview," her eyes darted from one man to the other, "why haven't you introduced yourselves and shown some form of id?" She tilted her head, glaring at them both. "Coming here, taking me off on my own. You could be a pair of freaks looking to rape and abduct kids."

The youngest man reddened. "I can assure you-."

"Do it then," Buffy broke in, "assure me. Tell me who you are and show me some id instead of prancing around in your sparkly coats," the pair shot an unreadable look at each other, "and waving your I've-got-an-offical-looking briefcase at me." She pointed at the left eyeball with her finger, "And you can stop that thing looking down my top or else I'm not answering a damn thing."

The dark-haired man made a surreptitious gesture with something he concealed in his hand and passed over a piece of paper, saying, "There we are, Miss Summers. This is a signed order from the Ministry of Defence giving us authority to interview anyone involved in the bomb explosion near St Pancras."

Buffy took the paper, noting the paper was of good quality, thick and creamy yet light to the touch. She opened it and then looked up, sharply. "Is this some kinda joke? Prank the kid week? This is a blank sheet." Annoyed, she crunched the paper up and threw it across the table.

"Must be the wrong sheet," muttered the older man looking sheepish.

"We are from the Ministry," the blonde said after a moment, fumbling in his pocket. "The Ministry of... Defence." He took out a card and flashed it at Buffy. With the speed of a striking cobra, her hand shot out, locked onto his wrist, and brought the card to level with her face.

The id had his photo and his name, Alastor Moody. It said he worked for Department for Interior Investigations at the Ministry of Defence and there was a complicated coat of arms in the top corner. Buffy didn't know if it was real or not. When she looked over at Moody she spotted the gleam of amusement in his eyes. He knew that she had no way of knowing if the id they were showing was real or not, but appreciated her determination not to be ridden over rough-shod.

"As you can see, I'm Alastor Moody and this is my associate, Rengus Mortimer." The older man flashed her his own id badge. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, Miss Summers?"

"For now," Buffy replied firmly.

"Your mother is Joyce Summers?" Rengus Mortimer's eyes sought hers again.

The way he stared at her felt uncomfortable and intrusive. What was he doing? Trying to get inside her brain and see what she was thinking?

"Yeah, according to what I have been told." She glared back at him, refusing to be cowed. The three eyeballs on the stand continued to watch her.

Alastor Moody perched on the desk next to her. He gave her an encouraging smile. "Ah, I'm guessing you were too young to know differently at the time, right?"

Folding her arms, Buffy gave him and Rengus a narrow look. "What's this? Psychic paper not working so you thought you'd fall back on the old good cop, bad cop routine?"

The pair looked perplexed. Buffy sighed, she wasn't surprised they didn't get her jokes since they sort of confused her too. "Look," she said, knowing the sooner she answered the questions the quicker she'd find out what was going on. "Ask me the questions and I'll try answering them, but you've got to remember I've got amnesia. I didn't even know my last name until someone told me."

"How long have you been back in England?" asked Moody. The eyeballs watched her intently.

"No idea."

A faint whirring sound came from the base of the contraption and Mortimer made a note, slowly, on a sheet of paper with a fountain pen.

"What are your mother's plans?" Moody questioned.

"Don't remember." More whirring, more note-taking.

"It says on your application for entry to this country that you're here to reunite with family. Where are they?"

"If I knew that, I'd be there now." Buffy gave a harsh laugh. "Do you honestly think I 'want' to stay here? I don't know where Dad is, Mom's in hospital, and I've no idea who the rest of my family are, or where to find them. I've tried to talking to Mom but she isn't making sense. I don't know who to ask!"

The two men exchanged a long look. Buffy wondered at its significance.

"We've already spoken to your mother," said Mortimer, not unkindly. "We can see she's very ill and she wasn't able to recollect the accident. What about you? Has anything from that day come back? Anything at all?"

Buffy shook her head. She'd been remembering snippets of her life from before they'd sailed but nothing about the explosion. "I don't remember anything before waking up buried beneath the rubble. It's all a blank."

Mortimer pressed, "You were seen speaking to a man shortly before the building collapsed. Was he someone you were meeting? Did he give you a message? Or did he try to force you to do something and used words that might have sounded strange to you?"

"I don't remember."

"This is important, Miss Summers," Mortimer asked again, his eyes on hers. The triple eyeball contraption watched her intently. "Are you positive you don't recall that man?"

"Honestly, I don't remember. I wish I could." The eyeball machine whirred and Mortimer jotted down a note.

Alastor Moody let out a loud sigh. He chewed at the side of his cheek, thinking over her answers, and decided to try something different. "Does the name Hubert Von Kendrick mean anything to you?"

"Should it?" Buffy replied. One of the eyeballs swivelled and the machine made a loud whirr, causing both men to look at it. Buffy bit her lip. Was it some kind of lie detector?

Without warning, Moody swung himself from the desk, stepping towards her, and looming over her. "What about Gellert Grindelwald, Miss Summers? What do you know of him?"

Moody's face hovering over hers was tense and, although Buffy had no idea who Grindelwald was, she remembered her mother's frantic warning. This Grindelwald must be very dangerous.

"Is Gellert Grindelwald the Big Bad around here?" she asked, watching their reactions closely. Their expressions didn't change, but their eyes became bleak and hard.

"Aye, he's a bad lot. You've heard of him?" Moody pressed.

"I..." Buffy began. It felt as if every eyeball in the room was focussed on her – even the ones without a body. "I heard his name for the first time last night." She lifted her head, defiantly. "I went to visit Mom and saw you two coming from Mom's room. I overheard you talking about Grindelwald and Von Kendrick." There, she'd put her cards on the table and she'd been honest with them. Would they be honest with her in return and tell her what was going on?

"You spied on us?" Mortimer asked doubtfully.

"Incredulous though it might seem – yeah." Buffy flicked an imaginary piece of lint from her skirt. "Maybe, you two shouldn't have a private conversation in a public corridor if you don't wanna be overheard."

Mortimer shared a look with Moody, muttering under his breath, "I can't believe neither of us noticed her."

Buffy decided it was the right time to bombard them with questions. "Who are Von Kendrick and Grindelwald? What have they done that's so bad? What have they got to do with me and Mom? If we're in danger, I need to know." Their faces shuttered and she narrowed her eyes. They had information and weren't going to share.

"I'm sorry." Moody looked as if he might mean it. "We can't tell you anything about Von Kendrick or Grindelwald, we've been sworn to secrecy, and we'd be breaking every rule in the book by telling you. However, I reckon, it's a case of you and your Mum being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The eyeball machine looked at Moody and made a loud whirring. Buffy pretended she hadn't noticed.

Moody slanted a glance at the older man. "Mortimer, is there anything else we need to ask Miss Summers?"

Mortimer examined his paperwork and tapped the eyeball machine with his finger. "No, there's nothing else. It might not seem like it, but you've been very helpful. Hopefully, we won't need to bother you again."

As meekly as she could, Buffy rose and went to the door. Moody opened it for her, smiling sympathetically, and telling her quietly, "Good luck, Buffy. I hope yer Mum gets better and you find your Dad."

As soon as the door closed on her, Buffy darted to the next door down the corridor, yanked open the door of the broom cupboard, and slid into the tiny space. Pulling the door behind her, but not closing it since there was no handle on the inside, she skirted around the metal mop bucket, and put her ear against the dividing wall.

She heard Moody talking. "Well? Find anything?"

Mortimer answered, "Not a dicky bird. Her mind's a blank."

"Any signs of someone …" A door banged further along the corridor and Buffy missed part of Moody's sentence. "... her memory?"

From inside the room, came the sound of something being dismantled. Buffy guessed it was Moody disassembling the eyeball machine. "…the Dark Detector's shows..." a clang as something dropped on the floor, "...nasty stuff. And a lot of it."

There was the click of the briefcase snapping shut.

"Von Kendrick was hexing all over the place. It makes sense that he got them with a curse when I apparated out," said Moody. "So... we're back at the same question once more. What was Von Kendrick doing in London and why was he following them?"

Buffy blinked. Hexing? If Von Kendrick was using dark magic he must be a warlock? Had she been hit by a spell? Is that why she couldn't remember anything? The idea didn't seem ludicrous to her as once it might have done. Those weird memories of being a Slayer told her magic existed.

Moody and Mortimer were here investigating a dark wizard and Moody seemed to think the warlock had followed her and spoken to her at one point. What had Von Kendrick said? She chewed at her bottom lip, wishing her memory of that day was intact.

In the corridor, a group of shouting kids ran past, and she missed Mortimer's mumbled reply.

Moody spoke again, "The Ministry should have owled the family once they realised that she was a Squib."

Buffy wondered if she'd misheard. What was a Squib? And what was 'owled'? Deciding that she'd misheard him, she pressed her ear harder to the wall. The two men had moved over to the door, and their voices were lower. Despite that, Buffy was still able to hear them.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Mortimer. "You know what some Pureblood families can be like about their Squibs."

There was a heavy silence. Then a soft huff and gentle "Aye," from Moody.

Mrs Cole's office door opened, and the sound of footsteps echoed around the hall as the two men approached the broom cupboard. Buffy tensed as they passed the door.

Moody chuckled. "I think Buffy would be able to hold her own. She's a feisty, little thing."

Mortimer gave a derisive snort and muttered darkly, "A glare that would stop a charging Hippogriff."

They must have reached the front door as she heard it open and then the sound of a scuffle.

Tom Riddle's voice said, "I beg your pardon. I had no idea anyone was behind the door."

"No harm done, lad," replied Moody. Buffy heard the two men walk out, the front door close, followed by Tom's footsteps in the hallway.

Buffy waited until she heard the kitchen door open at the bottom of the corridor. She wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone. All she wanted to do was hide in her room and think over everything she had learned. What was a Squib? Why would their family be angry if either she or her Mom were Squibs? And what the heck was a Hypogriff?

Inside her mind, the part of her she thought of as the Slayer told her she needed a Watcher - preferably one named Giles. The trouble was that she might have some of the Slayer's memories, but she had none of the Slayer's friends. She was all alone.

A mocking voice inside her mind snarled harshly, 'No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away and what's left?'

"Me," Buffy replied out loud. When it came down to it, sh-

The cupboard door flew open, letting in a flood of sudden bright light. Buffy raised a hand to her eyes, blinking rapidly. In the doorway was the skinny silhouette of Mrs Cole while Tom and a group of other kids stood behind her, all gaping at Buffy. Buffy felt herself cringing, mortified at being found standing inside a closet.

"What are you doing, girl?" snapped Mrs Cole, her eyes darting around the small space as if expecting to find someone else hiding in there with her.

"I, er, heard something scratching in here," explained Buffy. She reached up and tapped the wooden panel over her head. "I think you've got termites. You should have it treated before the place falls down."

Mrs Cole scowled. "You stupid girl! We don't have termites in Britain! If you heard anything scratch it would a mouse. Come out of there at once, you're making a fool of yourself." Once Buffy was out of the cupboard, Mrs Cole poked her head into the small space, looking around. "You'd better not be leaving messages in there for that grocer's boy!"

Buffy shot a dark look at Tom, who shrugged and gave her a not-so-innocent grin.

"I haven't got a boyfriend, Mrs Cole," Buffy said, feeling affronted that anyone would think she fancied the grocer's boy. "I don't want one. I've enough problems."

Mrs Cole kicked the mop bucket to one side and satisfied that there was no message hidden beneath it, turned back to Buffy and those watching. "Make sure you keep it that way. I won't tolerate that sort of thing under my roof." She swung around, pointed at Tom and snapped, "Tom! Stop smirking!" and then marched off back to the dining room.

Tom lingered behind. "What 'were' you doing in the cupboard under the stairs, Buffy?" he asked curiously.

She rolled her eyes at him. As if she was going to tell him about the interview! What would he know about magic, Squibs, Muggles, and Purebloods? He would think she was crazy.

Instead, she settled for, "Wouldn't you like to know," and headed off to her room. Intending to spend time on her own - with her new friend, the boggart.

…...

A/N

thank you to those who reviewed my last chapter.

Hope you liked this one? Buffy learns a little bit more about her family and then we have a bit of Tom being sneaky. I am sure he'll take the words 'wouldn't you like to know' as a challenge.