The Unspeakable Mystery
When two men dressed in long overcoats and wearing trilbys entered the infirmary, Buffy's first thought was 'police'. This was quickly amended to 'Aurors' when she remembered she was at Hogwarts. The tallest, a man with shoulder-length, iron-grey hair and a lined, sallow face, gave her a particularly hard look as he rapped his knuckles on the nurse's door.
"She's not gonna answer you," Buffy called cheerfully from her bed. Pushing the covers back, she swung her legs around, pulled on her slippers, and padded across the floor to join them at the office door.
They looked quite startled, giving her a long, measured look as if deciding whether she was important enough to listen to. Buffy returned it calmly. The older man she took an instant dislike to, he had a mean and disdainful look about him. The other had a much kinder face.
She said, "Nurse Bones went to see Professor Slughorn. I think one of her deliveries was short and she needed to borrow some of his until hers arrive."
"Are you, Buffy Summers?" the younger man asked in a low, measured voice.
"That's me, guilty as charged," she replied glibly with a Valley Girl smile.
"Ah, in that case..." The younger man fished about inside his coat pocket. "You need to see this." He tugged out a worn leather wallet and flipped it open to flash the id at Buffy. She caught a glimpse of the Ministry logo and his photo id before he snapped it shut.
She tutted and snatched it from his fingers. "Naughty! Why is it you Ministry guys never want people to read their badges?" Buffy flipped it open and read aloud, "Theo...Theo-lo-gus Remus Lupin. That's a mouthful."
"Most people call me Gus," he said, grinning at the way she'd stumbled over his first name.
"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me." Buffy read on. "Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Beasts." She paused, and then added, "Spirit Division," before closing the wallet.
"Non-beings are my speciality," Lupin said, taking the wallet back. "Dementors, poltergeists, ghosts, boggarts, and so on. The sort of things most sane people avoid, those are what I deal with."
"That's...nice." Although her voice came out sounding quite calm and serene, Buffy was screaming inside. 'Boggarts! He specialises in boggarts! Will he hunt Spikey?'
Lupin returned the wallet to its pocket. "So... How are you enjoying Hogwarts, Buffy? My son started this year. His name is Lyall Lupin and he was thrilled to become a Gryffindor like me and his mother. He wrote us a long letter, all about your dive into the Black Lake to rescue another first year. Lyall said that most of the Gryffindors thought it was a sure thing you'd be sorted into their House. Bravery is a virtue that's highly prized with Gryffindors. The Hat sorting you into Slytherin came as a big surprise to many. The Slytherins are hardly known for dramatic acts of selfless bravery."
His companion twitched at his comment and gave Lupin a dirty look.
Buffy racked her brain, trying to remember the other kids in the boats. "Um, sorry, I don't remember your son. The Slytherins and Gryffindor tables are at opposite sides of the hall and we don't mix that much."
The boggart hunter smiled knowingly. "Yes, the famous rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Still as strong as ever." He clapped his hands and rubbed the palms together. "I expect already know why we're here?"
She nodded. "You wanna know about the rogue Dementors?"
"Why else would we be here, speaking to you?" growled the grey-haired man. He'd a harsh, gravelly voice that reminded Buffy of cold tombs and coffin lids rising in the darkness. "Let's not waste more time with these pointless pleasantries, we have a task to perform."
Buffy shivered, and his sharp eyes noticed.
"You're trembling? Why?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "Have you something to hide, girl?"
"It's Post-Dementor shivers," she replied, with a look of disapproval. "Nurse Bones believes feeling cold afterwards is the body's reaction to your soul being attacked." The thought she'd almost had her soul stolen by one of those things both freaked her out and drove her crazy for slaying action.
"Then you'd better go straight back to bed, Buffy," Lupin said. "Ignore my grumpy friend here. You've done nothing wrong, it's just a case of us asking a few questions to find out what happened yesterday. Then we'll be on our way."
Buffy returned to her bed, the two Ministry Wizards trailing behind her. Lupin created a space on top of the nightstand by pushing all the potions to one side, whilst the sallow-faced man produced a series of brass gizmos from his pocket. He enlarged each piece, then handed them, over one by one,to Lupin who assembled them all on top of the nightstand. Once the device came together, it looked like a recording device to Buffy. There was a quill, and a paper scroll and a slim brass box covered in runes.
A memory of being questioned by the police came into her head. Someone had been murdered, they were blaming her and she had no one to turn to. Buffy shivered at the sense of loss, and then, without even thinking about it, cast a warming spell. She stilled, realising what she'd done. When nothing around her burst into flames, Buffy let out a relieved sigh. She'd had some iffy moments with warming spells. It would have been embarrassing if she'd overpowered it in front of men from the Ministry and the bed had caught fire.
The sallow-faced man said, "You've picked up spells very fast for someone with your obvious disabilities."
It was a backhanded compliment and she prickled with resentment. "Gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself. I bet you're the centre of fun at parties. What kinda obvious disabilities? Are you gonna tell me, or keep to yourself?"
If the smug look on his face was anything to go off, he liked that question. "According to records logged with the Ministry of Magic, you have a number of handicaps. To whit, a magical ability that only emerged a couple of months ago, a mother who is a 'Squib' and a 'Muggle'for afather. Three things that must have created great problems for you. Don't frown at me. Is none of that true?"
Buffy ducked her head. Seriously? Who is this guy? A Grindelwald Pureblood idealist? She flicked an imaginary piece of lint from the scarlet bed cover and asked, "Why does having un-magical parents mean I'm handicapped? My magic is my own, no one else's. Do you tell every Muggleborn that they're handicapped by their heritage?"
A tic played on the man's upper lip. Had she touched a nerve? She hoped so.
"Some types of magic are inherited. You should have been taught that already." The lip curled, turning into a sneer. "Don't you think it's strange that someone with your background became a Slytherin? I've looked into it. You're the first Lovegood in the history of Hogwarts to be sorted into that House. Why do you think that is?"
She shrugged a shoulder in an I-couldn't-care-less way. "Guess someone has to be in it."
Lupin smothered a laugh.
"I was in Slytherin!" growled Sallow-Face.
His dark eyes bore into hers. Buffy regarded him passively. He wasn't using Legilimency on her, he was testing her. He wanted to push her, wanted to see her so angry that she lost control of her magic. Buffy knew at the bottom of all this, he wanted to know how she'd taken down a Dementor with a brush.
The sneaky side of her, whispered, 'Don't let him play you. Play him'.
"Salazar Slytherin was very particular about his students," he continued. "From the new students, he sought out the most ambitious, intelligent, resourceful, and quick-witted for his House. Do you have the necessary qualities to be Slytherin, Miss Summers?"
"The Sorting Hat says so," Buffy answered evenly. "Another quality, which my 'Squib' Mom taught me, is good manners. Like... being polite with strangers; introducing myself to people before harassing them and so on."
Sallow-Face's top lip twitched and Buffy crowed inwardly. Ha, she'd scored a hit there! "Mr Lupin here," she went on, "showed me his badge as soon as we met." She gave Sallow-Face an arch look and added, "I don't recall seeing yours, Mr Non-Introductory mystery person."
Sallow-Face pressed his thin lips together, his stare icy.
Buffy regarded him passively, not in the slightest bit intimidated. "The Frosty the Snowman impression won't work with me. No cardy, no convo."
"He's an Unspeakable," said Lupin quietly. He'd brought over two chairs, placing them by Buffy's bed.
"Yeah? I was also calling him something really derogatory in my head."
Sallow-face looked shocked, he spluttered, "The term Unspeakable is used for someone who works in the Department of Mysteries! My name is Solomon Demdike and my work in that department is considered top secret. I do not need to show my identity card to inquisitive Hogwarts' students!"
Buffy sat up a little straighter. "Department of Mysteries? Caradoc told me about all about that place. It's full of weirdly stuff that's dangerous or crazy or both. And those who work there, they investigate the essence of magic, time, death, and other really cool stuff." The place had sounded fascinating to her and Buffy wanted nothing more than to poke around in there and ask lots of nosy questions.
And then, she realised that she'd fit in there better as an exhibit than a guest. One mystery worthy of any investigation would be the Slayer, especially since they were supposed to have gone extinct. She had to be warier of Solomon Demdike. He'd love to take her to his department – and incarcerate her. They'd keep her in a cell, along with all the other...
Walsh! \Riley! The Initiative...
Names flashing through her mind like echoes of explosions from the past. There were other memories too, faces, situations, fights, all staying just out of reach. If she concentrated, she could... NO! She was not going to zone out.
"Caradoc?" Lupin was saying, chewing over the name and sounding surprised. "Are we talking Caradoc Dearborn? His parents are both Inter-Aurors?"
Buffy inhaled, centring herself in the present. "Yeah, that's him. He used to go to Durmstrang. We met on the train coming up here."
"I had no idea the Dearborns were back..." Lupin's voice trailed away when he caught Demdike's eye and the older man shook his head at him.
Buffy tilted her face, looking at the two Wizards. Don't discuss the Dearborns? Why? What was the big secret?
Demdike cleared his throat. "Describe your encounter with the Dementors, Miss Summers. I've a thousand things to be getting on with, I don't have all day to discuss train rides, Durmstrang boys, and Sorting hats."
"There's not a lot to tell," she began. Not a lot I will tell you. "I was circling the Quidditch pitch looking for the Snitch, when the hooded Creeper rose out of the fog. I'd nowhere to go. I sorta aimed the broom at it and fell off. More Creepers came out of the fog, surrounded me and then I must have blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was in here and Madam Bones was feeding me bars of chocolate."
Buffy left out the parts were she'd thought the vampires were chasing her, how she'd forgotten to draw her wand – Demdike would really like that – and her zoning out into bad, bad memories. When Lovell had snuck in here, he'd told her to keep it short, play dumb, and shut down any questions. Her cousin had been more nervous than she'd been about this interview.
"How many Dementors were there?" rasped Demdike. "And why didn't you cast a Patronus spell? You know how, Professor Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet both told us you've cast a corporeal Patronus. An amazing feat to do so after only one lesson... for anyone, let alone, one such as you."
"I didn't get the chance to do any wand waving. One minute, I was circling around, the next it got ultra wiggy with the Creeper appearing out the fog in front of me," replied Buffy shaking her head. "Things got real intense, fast. I'm not sure how many of them there were. Four, five, more? I was too busy going unconscious to count."
"This broom you speared it with..." Lupin began. "I had a quick look at it and it seems to be a regular Comet 140, with a rowan wood shaft and birch bristles fitted as standard. It was created by Keitch and Horton and sold in large numbers in Quality Quidditch Supplies, Diagon Alley. Is it the more recent model with the advanced braking system and extra-comfy seat for those tight turns?"
"Um." She blinked. What did he think she was? A broom nerd? "If you say so. I don't know much about it. Abraxas Malfoy loaned it to me."
"And before you rode it, did either of you cast any spells to alter –."
The door of the infirmary opened. They looked over, Lupin's expression mild, Demdike scowling, and Buffy's expression freezing.
When Buffy saw who'd entered, she wasn't sure whether to smile or not. The last time she and Tom had seen each other, they hadn't parted on the best of terms. Tom hovered in the doorway, looking uncertainly at their three faces. He'd a stack of wooden crates in his arms, topped off with a book bag.
They had to be the boxes of ingredients that Madam Bones wanted, surmised Buffy. She knew that prefects were often sent on errands by the staff. Tom might not have volunteered to come up here just so that he could see her again. Slughorn had probably seen him, called him over and...
Buffy's eyes suddenly widened with recognition. "Hey! Whatcha doing with my bag?"
"Bringing it to you," he replied tersely. He tossed his head, throwing the hair back from his eyes and walking towards her. "And a 'thank you, Tom, that's very kind of you to bring it', would have been much nicer than 'whatcha doing with my bag'." He sighed loudly and gave her one of his disapproving looks.
No boy should look that cute when he's scowling, Buffy thought as she tried not to drool. Was she doomed to forever be attracted to the dark, brooding types?
Tom dragged his gaze away from the girl in bed, to the two strangers. Inwardly he cringed, realising that in his haste to snark at Buffy, he'd forgotten his manners. He nodded sheepishly at them. Ministry men, he thought shrewdly, here to ask Buffy about the Dementors.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said, falling back easily into the polite prefect. "Professor Slughorn asked me bring these crates here for the nurse. I met Lucretia Black on the way with Buffy's bag and offered to bring it with me. Apparently, Miss Summers' room mates are very concerned that she hasn't finished her History of Magic essay. It's due to be handed in tomorrow."
He looked over at Buffy. "Don't forget we have a test in the morning."
Buffy shrieked, "TEST! What test? In History of Magic? No one told me there was a test!"
Demdike snorted and folded his arms – annoyance etched in every line of him. Lupin merely chuckled and stopped the magical quill from recording.
Tom placed the crates onto an empty table and then came over with the bag for Buffy. "Not History of Magic, Potions. It's a test on the creation of Shrinking and Swelling potions. You need to know the history, variables and a complete list of ingredients. Professor Slughorn told us about them and he winked. That means, he'll spring a test on us tomorrow." He gave her a smug grin. "You were probably asleep while he went over them. I've noticed that you often snore following lunch."
Buffy glared at him. Was he doing this on purpose? Was he trying to embarrass her in front of the Ministry guys because of last night? Could this be about... revenge?
"I've never fell asleep during Potions!" she protested hotly. "How could I? I sit right at the front under Sluggy's nose. I might have done once in History of Magic. And, Mr Riddle, if you'd had your eyes on the board instead of on me," she said sweetly. "You wouldn't have known if I was asleep or not. All this watching me you keep doing. People are gonna talk. They'll say you have a fixation."
Tom blushed, yet rallied quickly enough to say, "I sincerely doubt it, since that fixation exists entirely inside your head. The only reason that I've noticed you is... I find the loud snores coming from your open mouth distracting when I'm trying to work."
Buffy frowned, but her eyes held a sparkle when she met his. "You liar! I don't snore! Go away, Tom. Your prefect badge needs polishing, it's not as perfect as the rest of you."
A ghost of a smile came to his lips. "My prefect badge is beautiful and shiny, thank you. However, it's nice to know that you think I'm perfect, thank you for that."
Lupin chuckled to himself while Demdike gave Tom a side-long look.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Tom said, turning his attention back to the Ministry Wizards. "Professor Slughorn is expecting me. I've been asked to assist him in setting up a classroom up for the first years tomorrow. He doesn't trust them in his stockroom and asked me to gather all the ingredients they'll need and put them to one side. I'll say goodbye and leave you in peace."
"Just a minute," grunted Demdike, coming to life. "You're a Slytherin. Tell me truthfully, does Miss Summers fit in there?"
Tom blinked in surprise at the curious question. He shot a bemused look at Buffy and a bewildered one at Demdike. "Fit in, sir?"
"Fit the criteria." He waved his hand. "The usual type of Slytherin. Is she typical?"
"Typical? Buffy? No, she isn't," Tom replied with a serious expression. He regarded Buffy from under his lashes, in that assessing way that totally was unique to him. "Buffy is... well, sir, she's unusual," he said truthfully. "Not many Slytherins would be able to make powerful allies and gain loyalties as fast as she's done. Nor does Buffy limit herself to friends within the House. And of course, her teachers like her, and Peeves doesn't. I think that says a lot about a person."
"Thanks Tom," Buffy replied softly. "Um, I think."
His smirk got a little wider. "You're welcome. Is that all, sir?"
"What's your name, boy?"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle, sir"
"Marvolo? That's a Wizarding name, but Riddle? That's not," Demdike muttered gruffly. "What are you? Half-blood? Who are your family?"
"I'm an orphan," Tom answered stiffly, with the awkwardness he always had when people tried prying into his background. "I believe, sir, my father was... not magical. My mother's name was Meriope Gaunt."
"Gaunt?" Demdike peered at Tom's face. "You don't look like a Gaunt. Marvolo, aye?"
Tom's face changed to open and eager. "You know them, sir? You know my mother's family?"
Demdike waved a hand, his lip curling once more. "Know OF them, rather than know them. Heard Marvolo had a son and a daughter. He lived Derbyshire way, no, no, that isn't right. Yorkshire. It was Yorkshire. Some little Muggle village there... Hanghead, Hanglemead, something like that. I had a friend working with the Aurors who told..." Demdike stopped, eyebrows twitching. "I don't remember. Might not even be the same family."
"Please, is there anything else you can tell me?" Tom asked.
The desperation that was in Tom's voice tore at Buffy's heart. She remembered the file they'd stolen from the Town Hall and the photos of his parents. It was normal to want to know more about your parents and find out why your family hadn't come looking you, when you needed them the most.
"No," Demdike said, closing down the conversation. He turned his back on Tom, to face Buffy. "Are you ready to answer more questions? I want to go home. I don't have time for all this dilly-dallying."
Buffy saw the hurt cross Tom's face before the polite mask came down once more. He spun on his heel, ready to march for the door when Buffy called his name, "Tom!"
She was out of bed and by his side, pulling him away from the Ministry men so they wouldn't overhear her. Tom, used to it by now, let himself be tugged along, but his eyes glittered with rage. Buffy knew that he'd be angry at Demdike, what she didn't know was that Tom had felt belittled in front of her.
"I'll help you look for your family, Tom," Buffy whispered. "We'll get a map and find the village. We can floo to –."
Tom bristled. "I don't need your help."
"I want to help... or if you just wanna talk."
"Merlin! Why do you think I wish to speak to you?" he hissed at her.
Buffy flinched and Tom, tuned to her emotions more than he wished, saw that he'd hurt her. That it bothered him, disconcerted him even further. He dragged his fingers through the front of his hair, ruffling it before smoothing it back down.
"Look," he said, anger gone and trying to be reasonable. "I don't want to talk about my family to anyone. This isn't about you. It's... a personal matter that I need to deal with by myself."
"Miss Summers! When you've quite finished chatting up the boys, remember that others are here to talk to you in a more official capacity," Demdike's sarcastic voice called.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "God, he's a total pain. I'd better go." She hesitated, not wanting to broach the subject yet knowing she needed to clear the air. "About what happened last night..."
"Forget it."
Demdike called again, "Miss Summers!"
"You'd better go," said Tom, turning away. Without another word, he strode out of the infirmary and into the corridor – and never once looked back at her.
"So, Buffy," said Lupin, once she was back in the bed. "We were at the point where you agreed the shaft of the broomstick was made of rowan."
"Did I? Is that important?" Buffy asked. "The kind of wood I mean?" When she staked vampires any wooden stake would do; a branch from a tree, a chair leg, or even a pencil. If you wanted to dust a vampire you used whatever came to hand.
"Details might turn out to be important," said Lupin. "For centuries, there has been no way of injuring or driving away a Dementor other than by using a Patronus Charm. Now one's been brought down by a broomstick. We need to know everything. The kind of wood it was made from, any spells that could have altered it, magic used in the vicinity, weather conditions, and more about you and your magic. This could turn out to be a major discovery and of worldwide interest."
Buffy winced, thinking worldwide interest was not a good thing.
Demdike asked, "Did you use any spell at all on the broom?"
"No! You need to speak to Abraxas. It's his broom."
"We have and he claims not to have done." Demdike let out a derisive snort and slanted his companion a side look.
Lupin nodded. "Abraxas had more to say about the boggart Dementor, than the actual Dementor."
Oh God, please don't go looking for Spikey! Buffy hoped he'd found a good hiding place and wouldn't come out until these guys had left Hogwarts.
"Maybe it was just having a bad day? The real Dementor, not the fakey one. That's possible, isn't it?" Buffy asked, looking from one to the other. If they dug too deeply into how she'd taken it down they might learn too much. If he thought she was hiding something, Demdike would spend hours questioning her. And what if Lupin found out her boggart had chased the Dementors off? He might go after him. "I didn't do anything apart from crash into it and fall off."
It was the wrong thing to say, the Unspeakable pounced. "Fell into more Dementors. Dementors that you managed to escape from." He leaned forward in his seat, dark eyes taking her measure. "I have made enquiries, Miss Summers. I have spoken to an Auror named Moody who told me that a Dark Wizard attacked you. You walked away from the scene unscathed."
"Hey! I was taken to a Muggle hospital and kept there for days because of my injuries!" Buffy protested. "That guy left me for dead! He buried me under a building and I broke nails trying to get out!"
Demdike ignored her. "There is also the incident with the Grindylows. The Merpeople told Headmaster Dippet that you chose to tear the water demons apart with your bare hands rather than use a more passive defensive spell. They said the body parts floating in the currents of the lake were a gruesome sight and again you were unmarked."
"I didn't know what spell to use! I had to do something fast, they were gonna drown Rigel! And I did have injuries, ask Madam Bones." She would never regret saving a young boy's life, but Buffy wished it hadn't put her under the spotlight.
"We've been told your wand is made from yew, is that not correct?" Demdike said, his tone accusatory. "A rare wood known for being the wand of a duellers and practitioners of dark magic."
"I haven't duelled anything with it!" Buffy protested. "I was supposed to start at Duelling Club last night, but I had to call in sick."
"And then there is the core...Thestral hair. We all know the lore attached to that beast."
"Totally harmless," Buffy replied. "Really sweet creatures."
"They say Grindelwald's wand has the same core and we know what he is."
"I don't think you can blame Thestrals for what he gets up to."
"What have you to say about Hubert Von Kendrick, Grindelwald's right-hand man?" Demdike spat.
"Huh?"
"Why is he so interested in you? What does he know about you that we don't? Were you ever the Squib that others thought you were? Were you... perhaps... an Obscurus? We know how dangerous they are."
Buffy gaped at him, shocked and angry. She and her mom had almost died because of the evil Wizard Von Kendrick. She hadn't forgotten. Magic stirred her hair and crackled along her shoulders and down into her hands. The inner Slayer crouched, ready to pounce. Demdike leaned closer. She could see each fleck of darkness in his irises.
"You, Miss Summers are an anomaly, an unexplained phenomenon, an aberration... You are one mystery that I intend to solve."
Buffy leaned in, her nose almost touching his. "Obscurus? Is that the best you can come up with, Mister Mystery Guy?" She let out a soft snort of derision. "If that's what you think I am, you're definitely one knut short of a sickle."
….
A/N;
First of all, to all my readers, those who comment and those who don't, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Yuletide Blessings whatever you celebrate I wish you peace and happiness.
Thank you to Deiticlast who has beta'd this story.
Okay,
Solomon Demdike is my OC. I named him after a very famous witch called Mother Demdike from Pendle, Lancashire England. The family was notorious.
'Gus' Lupin is Remus Lupin's grandfather (Lyall is Remus' father)
Solomon Demdike is a nasty piece of work...
I hope you enjoyed the Toffy (Tom x Buffy) in this chapter. He learned a little more about where his family is from. Let's hope Buffy can stop him from visiting them this summer...