Summer School

The sun rose higher, basking the beach in warm, golden light. A lone seagull cried in the air as it circled the cove looking for stranded fish left by the tide. High above, on one of the surrounding cliffs, Buffy sat on a rock looking out to sea. She hugged her knees to her chest, breathing in the fresh sea air watching a group of wading birds flying in to land.

Inside Buffy's head, a little voice niggled at her, telling her that it was time she left this tranquil spot and start back for home to prepare for Dumbledore's arrival. Today was her first day of magic lessons and last night she'd been so strung up with nerves that she couldn't sleep. Instead, Buffy had sat on her bed, going over the Transfiguration alphabet again and again. After snatching a couple of hours of sleep, she'd taken off for an early morning run, her nose and her slayer speed taking her to the coast.

The birds completely ignored the triple row of concertina wire strung between posts - to keep out German invaders – and landed on the beach. There they began digging their beaks into the soft sand, searching for worms and shellfish. Knowing that she couldn't put it off any longer, Buffy rose, brushed off the grit from her pants, and followed the winding sheep path that led through the gorse bushes down the hill.

Lovell claimed to be jealous Buffy was being allowed extra lessons, Buffy assumed he was trying to be kind. Like he spent his days reading Transfiguration books or a Rune dictionary for fun. Lovell was more likely found with his nose in Caterpillars and Chrysalids magazine, searching the area for bugs, or helping his father grow medicinal plants in the greenhouses.

At the bottom of the gorse-lined path, Buffy took off at a run, arms pumping as sped along, bounding from boulder to boulder, and springing over a style set in a hedge. She ran across grassland, skirted crops and a stone farmhouse where dogs barked from the yard, and then took a winding cart track. When the track forked, Buffy took the path that led through a river valley. At the river she crossed by the stepping stones, entering the wood on the opposite side and then sprinted upwards to where the rook-shaped Lovegood house stood proudly on a hill.

The smell of fried bacon drifted to her as she reached for the garden gate. Lovell and Peregrine were already up, she was much later than she thought. She hurried along the path, skirting around the overgrown dirigible plum bush, to the open door. Inside, Lovell and Peregrine sat at the table with the remains of breakfast lying in front of them.

"Did you have a good run, Buffy?" Lovell asked. Peregrine didn't know how far Buffy ran every morning, Lovell did and was impressed.

"Yeah, there was no one about by the river." That was as far as Peregrine thought she ran.

Peregrine put down the copy of The Prophet. "Would you like breakfast?" he asked, rising to his feet and gathering the dirty plates. "It'll not take me a moment."

"That's okay. I'll grab something after I've showered." Buffy replied, snatching up the remaining piece of buttered toast from the table. Taking a bite from it, she headed for the metal spiral staircase in the centre of the building.

"Don't take long!" Peregrine called after her. "Professor Dumbledore will be here within the hour."

"I won't!" She shouted over her shoulder, rounding the stairs and going up to the next level where her bedroom was.

After showering, Buffy opened the bathroom door to find Lovell waiting for her.

"Professor Dumbledore's here!" he hissed in a panic. "Dad told me to come and get you. We're going into Otterly St Catchpole to give you some space."

"Crap!" Buffy made a dive for her bedroom door. "Tell him I'll be down in five, it's gonna be more like fifteen, but tell him five."

Opening the wardrobe to take out a dress, Spikey picked up on her agitation and floated out of his box curious to see what had upset her. His big round eyes stared at her as she pulled the dress over her head and began buttoning the bodice.

"Professor Dumbledore is downstairs," Buffy said, smoothing the skirts down and then going to sit at the dressing table and picking up the hairbrush. "I'm running late."

There was a sharp crack. In the boggart's place stood Gellert Grindelwald, the blonde dark wizard stuck his nose into the air and struck a haughty pose. Buffy snorted a laugh. Encouraged by her reaction, the Gellert Grindelwald boggart cocked his head at her questioningly and pointed to the floor.

"No!" Buffy squeaked in alarm. She lowered her voice. "Do not go downstairs." She pointed her hairbrush at the boggart. "I mean it. Bad Spikey. This is serious. No scaring him."

Grindelwald boggart rolled his eyes and reverted to its puffer fish form. Drifting over to where she sat, the little boggart peered over her shoulder as she applied a small amount of make-up to her face.

"I know you've been a good boggart and avoided Uncle Peregrine," Buffy said. Sometimes when she spoke to the boggart, it felt as if she was training a puppy - praising it for good behaviour and telling it off when it had been naughty.

So far, she'd managed to keep the boggart's presence a secret from Uncle Peregrine. Lovell knew all about her boggart though. On her first night at the Lovegood house, Lovell had taken her out moth hunting (something Buffy had no intention of ever repeating). When they'd gone back to Buffy's room, a heavy-set man dressed in breeches and wearing a tweed jacket burst out of her wardrobe. Lovell had staggered back in fear, whilst Buffy freaked out and threw 'A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration' at the scarred stranger.

The chastened boggart had sheepishly reverted to its natural form, leaving an embarrassed, Buffy to apologise profusely. Luckily, Lovell had been so relieved that Silvanus Kettleburn, a Hogwarts the professor who taught Care of Magical Creatures, wasn't really in his house that he'd taken the boggart in his stride.

Buffy applied lipstick and making eye contact with the boggart in the reflection, said, "Dumbledore is here to tutor me in magic as I'm behind. I don't want to be bullied at school for being brain challenged."

Spikey puffed his little body up until it was twice its usual size and then bared his sharp teeth.

He was trying to say he'd protect her. Buffy gave the boggart an affectionate pat on top of its spikey head. "Thanks, Spikey. I'm not scared of those magic kids, but I appreciate the support. Just don't go scaring Dumbledore or letting him know you're still around."

Once the boggart had gone to his box inside the wardrobe, Buffy looked around for her shoes and, not finding them, decided to do without. As she descended the spiral staircase, her bare feet almost soundless on the metal treads, she overheard her name being mentioned. Instantly, she stilled.

"Did Buffy have sufficient money to buy all her school supplies?" she heard Dumbledore say. "I gave her a list with rather a lot of books to buy and forgot to mention that we supply funding for those who may struggle financially."

There was the rattle of crockery, a cup being replaced into its saucer, and Peregrine replied, "She was well able to afford her school supplies. My sister is richer than expected."

There was a weighty silence, Buffy rested her head against the central post of the staircase and waited for Dumbledore's reply.

"Were they recent deposits?" Dumbledore inquired. The question was a phrased casually, yet Buffy sensed that he wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important to him for some reason.

'Nosy old man,' Buffy thought, making no attempt to stop eavesdropping.

"Ah, you're thinking they were maintenance payments from Buffy's father?" Peregrine replied.

Buffy wrinkled her nose. She'd seen her Dad's letter, that was unlikely.

Dumbledore must have nodded in affirmation as Peregrine went on, "T'was nothing to do with that Hank Summers. Joyce told me that he's washed his hands of her and Buffy. Said he thinks more of his new woman than them. No, my sister told Buffy that when she was in Europe she made several good art investments. The money was deposited back in the summer of '27."

"So definitely no further deposits since then?" Dumbledore pressed. "Nothing deposited in the last few months?"

Buffy's brows drew together. Why so much interest in her Mom's account?

"Nothing. I think Joyce left America with very little," Peregrine replied. "They aren't poor, and they'll always have a home with me."

Dumbledore changed the subject. "And Buffy? What do you think of her? Is she like your sister in temperament? I recall meeting Joyce with your parents and she always seemed shy. That is, until she left for Europe..."

"Our parents were very protective of her, you can't blame Joyce for running a little wild after she left home. It wasn't easy for her being a Squib in a magical society."

Buffy tilted her head. Was Peregrine's voice sharp and defensive, or was she imagining it?

"Buffy's a lot like Joyce, but she isn't as naïve as Joyce was," continued Peregrine in a milder tone. "She's brave, kind to Lovell, keen to learn, and looking forward to Hogwarts. I have a suspicion that she has the fourth sight and you'll not find her lacking in the..."

Buffy decided that she'd eavesdropped enough and bounced down the steps, a ready smile on her face. Not that she felt all that ready, but a fake smile had always helped her face dark demons, she didn't see why it wouldn't work with magical professors.

In the kitchen, Dumbledore and Peregrine were both sat at the table. Buffy noted that Lovell was absent – so much for him wishing he was having extra lessons over the summer.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," she widened the smile, giving him a full blast of the finest Buffy charm and, after what felt like a long moment, he gave her a hesitant smile in response.

Uncle Peregrine excused himself, and Buffy took the seat he vacated.

"I didn't know what books to bring," Buffy said, losing her smile as she realised that she should have at least brought a notebook and a quill down from her room with her.

"You have your wand?" Dumbledore asked.

"Sure." That was something she did have. The dress from Madam Malkin's that she wore came with a handy wand pocket in the skirt. Buffy took it out and placed it in front of her on the table. Dumbledore leaned over, picked it up, and, pushing his glasses up his nose, began examining it.

"Yew?" He gave the wand an experimental wave, and a sluggish spark rose sullenly from the tip. "This works well for you?"

"Yeah." She wasn't going to admit to blowing up one wand or how the others had glued themselves to the shelves.

"It has bonded to you very quickly," he observed. "I doubt that I could perform the simplest spell well with this."

She nodded. "That's what my uncle said when he tried it. The core is made from Thestral hair. Those creatures are linked to boundaries and crossing the dimensions."

It was an obscure reference that Buffy had found about Thestral's in one of Uncle Peregrine's books and one she preferred to the normal negativity written about Thestrals. Buffy knew that the combination of yew and Thestral hair would instil suspicion in superstitious people. Some viewed the winged, carnivorous horses as harbingers of death. She also wasn't going to tell anyone that when Gerbold made this wand he'd originally set out to recreate the Deathstick.

"Hmm." Dumbledore's expression had sharpened, a small tic played by his eye, gone as fast as it appeared. "That's quite a formidable wand," he said quietly.

"Gerbold Ollivander made it, not Garrick. They thought it must have chosen me because of my recent brush with death." Buffy didn't add the wood had come from a tree that grew in a graveyard. Nor did she add that since she'd hung out in graveyards in the past, the wand might think she was a kindred spirit.

"I'm sure it's more to do with your magical potential than your brush with death," Dumbledore said evenly. "It is a powerful wand. You need to study hard to be worthy of it."

He handed the golden wand back to her.

He continued, "Before we start, you do know that normally you are not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts until you are seventeen? I had to obtain special permission to teach you in this house throughout August."

Buffy smiled, "It has been said, on numerous occasions."

"I'm sure it has." Dumbledore didn't smile, but his eyes twinkled. "Have you tried any magic yet?"

"My uncle showed me a couple of things," she replied offhandedly. Peregrine hadn't wanted to teach her any magic, he'd been worried about breaking Ministry rules and wanted to wait for Dumbledore. Buffy, however, had pestered until he'd given in and taught her a couple of basic spells which would be useful around the house.

"And they are?"

"I can do this." Buffy raised the wand and drew a small loop into the air with the tip. "Lumos."

The end of the wand lit with a light so bright that it lit up the entire room and Dumbledore was forced to shield his eyes.

"Eek! Sorry! Nicht, Not, NOX!" Buffy squeaked and the wandlight died away. "It isn't easy working out how much power to put into it. If I use too little nothing happens, too much and it turns into a beacon that draws in enemy planes and ships at sea."

"Your power fluctuating is quite normal," said Dumbledore reassuringly. "When a child's magical core flares to life, the magic occurs in fits and starts. Over time it settles and you'll learn how much power to put into each spell. You have done well learning the wand-lighting and wand-extinguishing charms so quickly. Just be careful of your pronunciation."

"Um, I also tried this one last night." Buffy pointed her wand at the fireplace "Incendio!" A fire sprung to life in the grate, the flames blazing higher and higher until they were roaring up the chimney.

"That would give Santa a shock," Buffy said. She made a sweep with her wand and quietly said, "Finite."

Inside the fireplace, the flames extinguished.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled "Well done! What about Transfiguration? Have you tried any Transfiguration spells yet?"

When she shook her head, he took an apple from his pocket and placed it on the table. "Tell me what you make of this."

Buffy picked up the apple, rubbed it between her hands and sniffed it. She placed it down onto the table. "That isn't an apple, is it?"

Dumbledore sat up a little straighter, his eyes intense. "You are correct. What gave it away to you?"

"I'm not sure." She shrugged. "A feeling." Buffy couldn't say that her inner Slaydar told her there was something wrong with the apple. She could sense magic and wrongness about it.

"Hmm, how unusual." Putting aside her reaction to the apple, Dumbledore said, "Watch." With all the showmanship of an on stage magician, he made a circular motion with his wand. "Revelio!"

In place of the apple, a small, white mouse with dark eyes stood on the table. It looked about it, then sat on its hind legs and began washing its whiskers.

"I don't like that," Buffy said.

The coldness of her voice surprised Dumbledore, he'd been expecting a far different reaction from her. He shot a confused and questioning look at her.

"Turning a mouse into an apple might give it brain damage."

The tension and confusion eased from Dumbledore's face. "I assure you," he replied as soothingly as he could, "the mouse is perfectly alright."

"How do you know? Have you ever had your heart turned into a pip? Your brain made into an apple core? I bet you'd be totally wigged if it happened to you."

"Transfiguring humans is possible, and yes, I've had it done to me." He rose to his feet and turned slowly around. "See, no lasting consequences." Ignoring the sceptical look she gave him, he sat back down and continued. "There are also Animagi. They are people who are able to turn themselves into an animal-.

"Like werewolves?-"

"Werewolves are different. They have been infected and can't stop themselves from changing into a werewolf, or losing their identity when transormed. An Animagus is very different. They change at will and remain fully aware of who they are when in animal form," Dumbledore explained.

"But that mouse was an apple. What if I'd taken a bite from it?" Buffy countered. "It might have lost a leg or its head." She made a face. "And... eww! I'd have eaten raw mouse."

"I wouldn't have let you eat it," Dumbledore assured her. "We keep a number of creatures at Hogwarts for the students to practise their spells on. The pupils are constantly monitored and the creatures live out their lives there. However, you make a good point. Magic should be learned under supervision, so that if anything goes wrong people are on hand to put it right."

Buffy watched the mouse scampering across the table, its whiskers and nose twitching as it searched for breakfast crumbs. "Are you sure the mouse is fine?" she asked again. "I don't want to do any magic that involves torturing the innocent. That would be wrong."

She didn't see him, her eyes were on the mouse, but Dumbledore relaxed for the first time since he'd seen Buffy's wand. "I'm quite sure. Now, let us proceed with our lessons. You aren't ready to turn a mouse into an apple, but today you'll learn how to change a match into a needle."

…...

A/N;

Thank you to those who have left reviews. They are appreciated and yes they help me write faster.

Hey! The rest of you! I keep seeing the hits on the chapter but only a couple of reviewers on here? :-(

Anyway, few more clues in this chapter, also Buffy grasps the basics of magic.

Next up...

The Hogwarts Express and Tom meets the girl who was once a Muggle... I might use two POVs on that one so you get the full hit. :D :D