A Filthy Mudblood
or Buffy learns about blood prejudice...
"Did you know teleporting was gonna make me puke?" Buffy regarded her uncle suspiciously.
They had left Wool's orphanage on foot, Peregrine carrying one of her cases and Buffy the other. He'd led her across the street and entered one of the area's many alleyways that criss-crossed this area of London. There they'd stopped, her uncle carefully checking about him. Out in the street, an elderly woman wearing a long coat, a headscarf, and pushing a large pram filled with laundry hobbled past. Her uncle waited until she'd gone before taking Buffy's arm.
'Hold on tight. Whatever you do, don't let go," he'd said, adding gleefully. "If you let go, you might end up splinched."
Splinched? Buffy hadn't liked the sound of it. She'd gripped his arm as hard as she dared without giving away Slayer strength. Peregrine moved. For a moment, Buffy thought he was merely turning when suddenly everything around her blurred. It felt as if she'd been squeezed into a narrow, rubbery tube. All her internal organs felt squashed, she couldn't breathe, and just as she thought that she might suffocate her feet touched solid ground once again. She drew a deep breath, her stomach heaved, and she had scuttled away to lean against the wall and throw-up.
"Did you know, teleporting would make me puke?"
At the question, Peregrine had the decency to look sheepish. "Apparation is the best way to magically travel from one place to another," he prevaricated. "I'm sorry for not warning you, but I wanted to get away from there as quickly as possible."
Buffy swallowed, feeling nauseous again.
Peregrine gave her a sympathetic look. "It only makes you sick the first time, but I swear, by Merlin and Morgana, that it'll never be as bad again. Once you've learned to do it by yourself, you'll have no ill effects."
"Yeah, if you say so," Buffy replied, not looking at all convinced. To take her mind off her still churning stomach, she looked about her. They'd landed in another dark, dirty, and narrow alleyway. Over at the mouth of the alley, a double-decker bus trundled past followed by several trucks. Wherever they were, it was a busy part of London.
"So when you apparition-" she began slowly.
"Apparate," corrected Peregrine. He watched her closely, giving her time to get her breath back before leaving. "Or apparating."
"Okay, to Apparate you just think where you wanna go, and bibbity bobbity boo you're there?" It might prove a cool way to travel, as well as cutting down on taxi fares, if there was less puking involved.
Peregrine picked up both cases and gave a short laugh. "You almost have it. It's less of the bibbity bobbity boo and more drawing on your inner magic. They'll teach you how to Apparate at Hogwarts next year. C'mon, let me show you a jewel in the crown of the Wizarding World."
Keeping a tight hold of the gas mask box (which contained the boggart), Buffy followed him out of the quiet and gloomy alleyway and out into Charing Cross Road. It was raining, and both Peregrine Buffy tried to stay beneath the colourful shop awnings to keep dry.
"Where exactly are we headed?" she asked, dodging other pedestrians who were trying to keep out of the rain too. It was the end of the working day, and a lot of people were hurrying for trams and buses.
"The Leaky Cauldron pub," Peregrine declared, coming to a stop outside a book store and a dingy looking shop with blacked-out windows. He nodded to a chipped and faded blue doorway of the dingy shop. "That's it."
A dark signboard, its writing worn away by time and the weather, hung beside the dingy shop doorway. As they moved towards it, the sign changed to one depicting a cauldron set over a fire with a potion pouring from a crack in the bottom of it.
"There's a pub in there?" Buffy wrinkled her nose, taking in the aura of neglect and the blackened out windows. If this was considered a jewel in the crown of the Wizarding world, she wasn't impressed. From the vibes it put out, it felt more like a disused magic shop than a favourite Wizarding hang-out. Even worse, her spidey-senses were tingling, telling her she needed to be careful of someone inside here.
"I know it doesn't look much from the outside," Peregrine replied, he pushed open the door and allowed her to enter first. "But this has always been my favourite pub."
"Never come between a guy and his favourite bar," said Buffy, stepping inside.
Her first impression, going off the clothing, was that she'd walked into a vampire bar. Over the years, Buffy had found the biggest give away with vampires was their fashion stagnation and it worked as well at outing them as her inner Slaydar did. She eyed the prevalence of cloaks and robes, as well as the odd mix of jarring colours with askance. These styles were not only decades out-of-date, but they'd gone extinct.
Buffy closed her eyes to the walking fashion disasters about her and reached out with her spidey-senses. Despite the clothing, most of the patrons were human, although she had doubts about the man sitting alone in the corner. He had a drawn face with dark shadowed eyes, and he kept staring at the fire nervously while nursing his drink. Was he a werewolf?
The pub faded and suddenly Buffy was in a club surrounded by teenagers. On stage a band played, a red-haired boy playing the guitar. She frowned, and her memory supplied the name – Oz.
Oz looked across the crowd to her, giving her a thoughtful smile before continuing with his playing. Then the scene changed. It was the night of a full moon and, as she chattered to Willow, Oz walked past to a cage and locked himself inside so that he wouldn't hurt anyone when he changed. The memory faded and was replaced by an older Oz telling her that he'd come back to be with Willow, that in his time away he'd learned how to control his wolf side.
Her uncle touched her arm, motioning for her to keep moving, and the memory faded. Once again The Leaky Cauldron's interior and its inhabitants coming back into sharp focus.
Over at the bar, a tall wizard with a sharp face and long, straight, white-blonde hair mistook the way she'd zoned out. He sneered, turning to the witch sat next to him and spoke to her in a low whisper. Buffy's acute hearing enabled her to pick up his words.
"...another filthy Mudblood newcomer coming into our world and contaminating it with their presence."
She'd no idea what a Mudblood was, but Buffy sensed an insult. She glanced over to her uncle. From the way he was cheerfully pushing past the other patrons and greeting them he hadn't heard the man's remark. Buffy lifted her chin defiantly, following in his wake as she drew level with the couple at the bar. The witch was around her Mom's age and, unlike the others in the bar, her dress was expensive and stylishly cut. Over the top of the indigo dress, she wore burgundy velvet robes edged with midnight black fur and her hair expertly styled.
Buffy gave her a dark look. The woman sipped from her goblet. Silently assessing Buffy and her uncle from over the top of her vessel before speaking to the man next to her. Although she kept her voice low, Buffy heard every word.
"She's with that dreadful Lovegood. The one with the awful hat."
The long-haired man snorted. "It doesn't surprise me that he's friends with a Mudblood. The man's a..."
"C'mon, Buffy, don't stop. Keep moving," Peregrine admonished, the bird on his hat winking and nodding at her.
Buffy shot a last look over her shoulder at the couple who'd insulted them, then quickened her pace, to catch up with her uncle. They made their way to a quieter part of the pub where several patrons glanced over to them. A few nodded to her uncle as if they knew him and then looked at her with open curiosity. Two young Ministry wizards, who'd stopped for a drink after work, eyed her appreciatively.
"Uncle Peregrine, what's a Mudblood?" Buffy asked suddenly.
"What?" Peregrine stopped so fast that only Buffy's fast reflexes stopped her from colliding into him. "Where did you hear that word? It's rude."
Buffy waved her hand back towards the busier area and pointed at the bar to the couple sat with their backs to them. "I heard a guy in there saying it about me. The one at the bar rocking the Leglas hairstyle."
"Ah, Brutus Malfoy," Peregrine kept his voice low. "He's an elitist bigot, and he's got you all wrong. That word he used, it's a derogatory term for," he ducked his head, avoiding a low beam as they entered a sideroom, "those Witches and Wizards born to non-magical parents."
"Maybe he's right, I'm-"
Peregrine held up a hand, stopping her. "Joyce may not have magic, but our parents and grandparents were all Purebloods." His eyes searched the room, seeking something or someone. "Not that blood purity matters," he added. "It's no sign that your magic will be any stronger or weaker." The lines in his face cleared when he spotted the person he'd been looking for. "Ah, there he is, causing trouble as usual."
Buffy followed his gaze across the room. There was a boy with a mop of tousled curly, blonde hair crawling around on his hands and knees. Buffy watched him creep beneath a table where two people sat drinking and began feeling along the floor around their feet. The two at the table ducked their heads to scold him and the rest of the customers gave him black looks and muttered their annoyance.
Peregrine shouted "Lovell!"
The boy jumped, cracked his head on the underside of the table and almost knocked it over. The couple grabbed their drinks just in time, and glared at the red-faced boy as he emerged rubbing ruefully at the top of his head.
He rose and made his way over to where they stood. Keeping his flushed face averted and his eyes downcast he said, "I've lost Knuts."
Buffy bit her cheek to stop the grin, while Peregrine let out a small, exasperated sigh.
"He was with me when I started reading," Lovell explained. He slanted Buffy a swift glance out the corner of his eye, then returned his gaze to the floor. "When I put my book down I realised he'd hopped off."
"He'd hopped off?" Buffy repeated. "Have I another cousin who'd made a run for it?" She gave Lovell a playful grin, knowing that she hadn't, but unable to resist teasing.
"Bufo Bufo," Lovell muttered, still refusing to look at her.
"It's Buffy." Buffy knew her name was unusual and caused problems when people first met her. "I sorta got stung in the naming department." She wasn't going to hold him getting her name wrong against him, especially since he had a similar burden.
Lovell looked up, bright blue eyes locking onto hers, a lop-sided smile on his face. "I know," he said quietly, "Dad told me." He hesitated, as if unsure how to greet his new cousin. In the end, he settled for holding out a hand for her to shake. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Buffy."
Buffy took it. "Nice to meet you, Cuz." Despite them being the same age, his hand was much larger than hers and at his touch, Buffy's Slaydar tingled gently in response - a sure sign of a magic-user.
Lovell flushed an even brighter red and determinedly ploughed on, "The Latin name for the Common toad is Bufo Bufo. He's my familiar. I bought him for two knuts from the Magical Menagerie, hence his name." Lovell looked around the room again, frowning. "He keeps escaping..."
"Want me to help you?" Buffy asked. Inside the gas mask box, the boggart scratched in protest and Buffy quickly tapped the top of the box with her fingers. 'Shush, Spikey'.
"Would you?" Lovell's expression was hopeful. "He's dark green with a warty back."
"Er, okay" Wondering what she'd just let herself in for, Buffy added, "Let me put my stuff in my room, then I'll come back and give you a hand."
"Thanks, I'll keep looking in the meantime." Lovell immediately dropped onto his hands and knees and started to crawl along the floor. His head tilted sideways as he tried to peer under the tables and see into all the nooks and crannies.
"Does he often lose his toad?" Buffy asked her uncle as he led her up a wooden staircase overlooking the room.
"Far too often." Peregrine used one of the cases to gesture at one of the doors. "That's your room, number eight. Lovell is next door and I'm the one at the end."
Buffy thought for a small pub they'd a lot more room inside than she'd thought possible. "This place is like a Tardis," she said without thinking.
Peregrine put the suitcases down and began searching his pockets. "A Tardis? What's that?" he asked, pulling a metal key and handing it to her.
Buffy replied, "Something that is bigger on the inside." There was a memory there, trying to surface and tell her more. A flash of Xander's face and another face, Spike's? She pushed back the memory, not wanting to zone out again in front of her uncle, and opened the door.
"Ah, Capacious Extremis. There's been more than one Extension Charm used on this place since it was first built in the early 1500s..."
Buffy only half-heard him rambling on, her focus on the room she'd been allocated. As hotel rooms went, it was neither large nor luxurious, some might even say that it was overly primitive. They wouldn't be entirely wrong. Buffy had the feeling she'd stepped back in time. From the Elizabethan graffiti carved into the wooden wainscot to the dark soot-stained beams set in the ceiling, the room not only breathed history but hummed with the residual magic of centuries past.
Her spidey-senses tingling at all the power she could sense, Buffy walked into the room and across the uneven floor to the stone mullioned, leaded windows. Looking out the windows, part of her felt disappointed. She'd almost expected to see a scene from London's distant past rather than a view of shopkeepers dismantling their shop awnings and locking up for the night. Buffy turned, looking around her bedroom that looked as if it had never changed from Tudor times. A large fourposter bed hung with heavy drapes dominated the space, there was a large wardrobe against one wall (that should keep Spikey happy), and a fireplace with a small fire crackling away in the hearth.
Peregrine placed her cases on top of the carved chest set at the foot of the bed. "If you want to settle in first, don't you worry over Lovell and his toad hunt. Come down when you're good and ready and we'll have a bite to eat before visiting St Mungo's."
Buffy sat on the edge of the bed. "Five minutes and I'll be down," she promised. She bounced, testing out the bedsprings. The mattress in the orphanage had been uncomfortable, this would feel like heaven in comparison.
Once her uncle had left the room, saying that he'd book a dining table, Buffy opened the gas mask box. The boggart shot out and flew around the room, examining everything excitedly. It seemed to approve of her new accommodation.
"I'm only staying for one night," Buffy warned it. "We're going to Devon tomorrow and I'm starting witch training." She unpinned her hat and took off her coat, and seeing that they were still wet from the rain, placed them on a chair next to the fire to dry. Fluffing up her hair she went on, "I promised Lovell that I'd look for his toad, so I'm going downstairs now."
The boggart flew alongside her, its unblinking large eyes on her as she walked to the door. "If anyone comes into the room hide in the wardrobe. And I don't want you wandering off and scaring the other guests," she warned. "If they find out you're with me, they might throw us both out into the street."
Spikey nodded, but Buffy was sure that as she closed the door behind her, the boggart had stuck his tongue out at her.
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A/N;
The quiet chapter before an adventure and meeting others from the Wizarding world.
Thanks to guest and CallaRose4ever who left reviews. Mrs Cole is a nasty piece of work. |Tom is going to have a huge shock when he finally meets Buffy.