The Goddess Minerva

Abraxas Malfoy poked his head around the edge of the classroom door. There was no sign of Professor Slughorn or Riddle but he could hear the sound of glass clinking as someone moved around in the stockroom. Deciding it must be Riddle, he tiptoed across the room and peeked in. Sure enough, Riddle was there, busily selecting jars from the higher shelves and placing them on a table.

Abraxas warily eyed him. Although Riddle showed no sign of knowing Abraxas was watching him, it didn't mean he wasn't aware of him. Riddle had a kind of omniscience, a strange way of knowing where you'd been and what you were thinking. That, combined with his ability, ambition, and lack of hesitation in using the darker more violent spells, made him both dangerous and fascinating to be around.

One thing Abraxas couldn't figure out though was Riddle's interest in the Squib's brat. Well, he could think of one reason or – inwardly, he sniggered – maybe two. Others eyed her with similar thoughts, but Tom? Tom was too focused on his studies to have his head turned by a pretty witch. In fact, his lack of interest in the female population had sometimes made Abraxas speculate if Riddle had more in common with Alphard than first met the eye.

If Riddle was spending so much time on her, he had to be secretly smitten or know a secret about her. Abraxas chewed at his bottom lip as he thought. Buffy had been targetted by a notorious Dark Wizard, the Lestranges had a file on her, Dumbledore was her private tutor, and the Black family had an interest. Despite being weird, she had become the Witch of the moment and he decided it was high time he wrote to his father about her. It would be carefully worded. His father would want to know why he was so interested in a girl from a poor background, even if she was popular.

"You're thinking too much, Malfoy," Tom said without turning around.

"How did you know I was here?"

"The cogs inside your brain were squeaking." Tom stretched and took down a large jar of Sloth-Brain Mucus from the shelf. He placed the jar onto the bench, next to a bottle of Venomous Tentacles and dried Lace Wings.

"Really?" Abraxas wondered if his brain squeaked. Or was Tom joking? Had he seen his thoughts?

Riddle turned, leaned back against the workbench and folded his arms. There was no sign of his wand, and Abraxas relaxed.

"Malfoy," chided Riddle, "you're the sole heir to the Malfoy name and fortune. At times, I find myself despairing for your unborn children."

"Children? Oh, that won't be for a good while yet." Abraxas grinned happily. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I have plenty of practising to get in beforehand. I've a long list of Mrs Malfoy candidates, and intend to work my -."

Riddle shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Spare me the gruesome details, please. I've a sensitive stomach and don't wish to loose my lunch."

Abraxas laughed and pouted. "You need more 'practise', Tom. It's all very well impressing the Parkinsons, but have you looked at that book I gave you?"

Riddle stared, silently challenging Malfoy to continue with that line of conversation. Malfoy twitched, suddenly aware they were in a deserted section of the dungeons and remembering Riddle had a notoriously short temper. Would he summon snakes? He took a step back until he felt the open space of the classroom around him. Riddle was notoriously fast at casting, but he'd feel better with more room to manoeuvre, especially if any snakes were involved.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean... I er, I meant the b-book about Parselmouths," Abraxas stuttered as he tried to appease him.

Tom continued to regard him silently.

"I didn't... I wouldn't... not the other book, my Lord!"

Riddle's eyes narrowed, becoming snake-like, reminding Abraxas that that title was not to be used outside of meetings. "I... I'd hoped you'd enjoy reading about how extraordinary your talent is, er, Tom." He tried an ingratiating smile, failed, and felt it necessary to add, "With snakes!"

Tom's nostrils flared. 'Extraordinary talent'? Was Malfoy mocking him? Did he know he'd taken the 'How To Charm Witches Amazing Quiz' ? He'd checked for any hidden, two-way interactive spells and hadn't found any. No, Malfoy couldn't know his score. As for the results... Why should he believe a stupid book? He had no need to charm witches and the book was wrong. And Malfoy? Malfoy was lying. He was fishing, trying to find an in, a way to root out weaknesses and use them against him.

Tom's lip curled. "Of course, you did."

His tone dripped with poisonous scorn and Malfoy blanched.

"I shall read it at my leisure." Tom didn't say he intended to read both books and retake the Witch charming quiz. Next time, he'd score 100%, even if he had to cheat to do it.

"Now, tell me what happened when the Blacks challenged the Ministry? That's what you came to tell me, isn't it?"

"Ah!" Malfoy stepped forward again. Riddle was bound to be pleased, he'd set most of it up. "There was an interesting turnout. If it was a Quidditch game, I'd say, the Blacks scored well and made a grand defence, but the Seeker saved the day."

Tom inwardly groaned. Why were the Purebloods so mad about Quidditch?

"You should have seen the panic in the Unspeakable's face," Malfoy said smugly. "He never expected the Minister for International Magic Law's son to appear and start questioning him. Demdike almost had a fit. Well, perhaps not a fit. But it definitely put him on the back foot. My father knows that family quite well. Most have been employed at the Ministry for generations and they think they-."

Tom quickly pointed a finger and cut him short. "Rambling, Malfoy."

Abraxas nodded. "Long and short of it is... they weren't taking her out of Hogwarts. They were off to collect the Dementor and Buffy was only there to get back on her Hippogriff."

Tom gave him a suspicious look. "Her Hippogriff? Are you sure they said her Hippogriff?"

"Oh yes, it was definitely a Hippogriff. The Hippogriff you need to get back on to face your fear," Malfoy explained. His eyes widened with horror. "Morgana's tits! Do you think... do you think she'll ask to borrow my broom? She's not having my Nimbus 1,000! She borrows things and doesn't take good care of them. Who would ram a perfectly good broom into a Dementor? That's sacrilege, that is!" His face darkened. "Can you believe what that Unspeakable said to me?"

"No, because you haven't told me yet," sighed Riddle. "But I'm sure you are going to do so, whether I want to hear it or not."

"That Solomon Demdike wanted to know every spell I'd cast on or near my broom. Said if I didn't provide him with a comprehensive list – within an hour – he'd confiscate my wand and check it for himself. The temerity of the man! I'm quilling a letter to father about him after dinner!"

"Good idea, Malfoy." Tom stared off at the shelves across from him as he mulled over Malfoy's report. "What about Caradoc Dearborn? Did he turn up?"

"Does Merlin own a wand?" Malfoy snorted a huff. "Damn Gryffindors weren't invited. Even Weasley was there. He thinks he's important since the Griffs made him Quidditch captain last year."

Tom smiled, showing far too many teeth. "Don't be like that. We know the Gryffindors have their uses. While Weasley is just a nuisance, Dearborn's parents are known and I'm sure their son's presence will have been noted. You worked hard persuading the others to turn up."

"It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be," Malfoy admitted ruefully. "Summers has made friends like a blasted Hufflepuff."

'That has already been noted,' thought Tom. He'd seen the way she drew others to her. Still, Malfoy had been successful in his task. "Thanks to you, everything went smoothly."

"But wasn't it a waste of time? They weren't taking her out of school like we thought."

Tom looked at him from under heavy lids. "No, our show of support worked. I've no doubt those two Ministry Wizards will think twice before bothering Buffy again."

….

Buffy bent her head against the rain and the cutting north-easterly wind. The Wizards were a short distance in front of her and talking amongst themselves as they descended the steeply sloping path leading to the stone circle.

"So... you claim to not think it odd that the child of a Squib and a Muggle was sorted into Slytherin?" Demdike asked Dumbledore.

Buffy glowered under her hood. If she'd been a Ravenclaw, no one would have questioned it. She could have fitted in there. This was all the hat's fault. She'd a good mind to kick it across the Hall the next time she saw it.

"Not at all," Dumbledore answered pleasantly. "Buffy displays the best qualities of that House. She is intelligent, quick-witted, resourceful, and also extremely loyal to her family. The Lovegoods may be a little eccentric..."

Buffy gave him the stink-eye.

"...but so are many Pureblood families. As for her being accepted by the other students... You've seen for yourself how popular she is." Dumbledore paused, letting that point rest before going on, "To inspire that kind of loyalty so fast is quite a feat. Remember: this is her first term at Hogwarts." Dumbledore looked back, saw Buffy huddled miserably inside her robe and called, "Buffy! If you are cold, use a Warming Charm."

"Already done." Buffy shivered again. "Still feels like I'm gonna lose extremities. What's with the freezing weather? I thought it wasn't even fall here?"

"Welcome to late summer in the Scottish Highlands," Dumbledore retorted. "Cast that charm once more and this time increase the strength of the spell by several increments."

Cold rain hit her face, and she caught the edge of her hood as an icy windy threatened to blow it off. "Stupid Dumbles." It was all very well for Dumbledore to tell her to increase it by a few increments, but subtleness and Buffy were just not mixy. Maybe she should just suck up the cold and keep shivering? After all, blue lips and deathly white complexion were all the rage these days, at least amongst those with hypothermia.

Demdike looked over his shoulder and raised a brow. Buffy assumed he was taking pleasure in her reluctance to cast another spell. He'd probably put a complaint in with the school board saying that she shouldn't even be at Hogwarts. She wouldn't put it past him. The guy had made it obvious he didn't like her.

In the end though, it wasn't Demdike's scorn nor Dumbledore's call of encouragement that had her reaching for her wand. Lupin gave her such a look of pity that she steeled herself and drew it. She was the Slayer. She was the thing chosen to fight evil, the girl to be feared, not the thing that feared. And if she accidentally turned Demdike into a lump of charcoal in the process, she'd just say she was a student and Dumbledore had made her do it.

She concentrated on pleasant warmth, and with a twist and flick of her wand, she repeated the Warming Charm. The air temperature instantly rose by a few degrees. It wasn't as warm as she'd have liked, but it was another successful cast and signified that Dumbledore was right. The more she practised her magic, the better controlled it would become.

"Aren't you used to the cold?" Lupin asked, he'd slowed his steps and dropped back.

"Nope." She shook her head. "I'm not used to cold winters."

Lupin's eyes misted over with memories. "Hogwarts is beautiful when it snows. I can remember building forts from blocks of ice and having magical snowball fights. When we got bored with that we took sledges up onto the slopes. One winter, the Headmaster froze part of the lake and we all went ice skating."

"Ice skating? I'd like that." Buffy didn't know if she'd skated before but felt sure she'd be good at it.

Lupin smiled. "See, I'm sure you'll change your mind about disliking winter when you've seen it first hand."

Demdike overheard them. "Personally, I find this weather invigorating!"

Buffy scowled, and scowled again when she realised the Unspeakable didn't just look warm – he looked dry. "You're all using rain repulsion charms, aren't you?" Neither Dumbledore nor Lupin looked the slightest bit wet. "That's so not fair! Madam Bones won't be happy if I die from pneumonia after getting soaked."

Dumbledore stopped by the head of the standing stones and waited for her. "It's an Umbrella Charm," he admitted, shame-faced at his neglect. "They're rather tricky to get right and only taught to NEWT level students, although I've never seen it on any exam. I'll show you how to cast it, but you must remember to never use it in a high density Muggle area."

Buffy cocked her head questioningly.

"For fear of awkward questions." Drawing his wand, the professor moved it slowly in a circle and then showed her the unusual flick at the end of the cast. "Operio Konopiun!" he called.

Immediately the rain stopped. Buffy looked up. All around her, the raindrops were striking at an invisible barrier and veering off at an angle. "A warding charm?"

Dumbledore smiled, impressed at her recognition. "It is. Tell me, how did you come to that conclusion?"

Buffy gestured to his wand. "Mainly the wand movement. I've noticed before that most wand movements are based on the combination of runes or sigils they were originally derived from. It's abbreviated and, kind of, over-simplifying it, but generally that's how I see it."

"Very good. An excellent deduction and in most cases I suspect you're right. There are, however, a good few exceptions," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully. "There's a couple of books I have on the origins of wand movements. I'll let you borrow them."

She studied the barrier, missing the Ministry Wizards exchanged looks of surprise. "This isn't as strong as a Shielding Charm, is it?"

Dumbledore nodded again. "No. It's really only used for personal comfort. What do you think of it?"

Still scrutinizing the spell woven around her, Buffy continued, "It's like... a portable warding. You know, without tethering the spell to a solid object or feature of the landscape that the normal wards work off. I'm guessing its tethered to the wand or the caster." She wrinkled her nose, information tickling at her brain. "Is the base language Greek for canopy? And canopies are temporary structures used to ward from the weather." Now her slayer side was sizing up the spell's potential. "I don't see it as much use if someone throws a Bombarda at you, but if they hit you with a weather jinx it might be kinda useful."

Her observation met with silence. Buffy took in the Wizards' faces and wished she hadn't revealed how her thoughts worked. Lupin looked astonished, Dumbledore thoughtful, and Demdike speculative. That was not good. It was always better to be underestimated, especially by those in authority, and that way they wouldn't look in your direction if anything untoward happened. And by untoward, she meant illegal vampire slaying. She shouldn't have spoken out. It was just... every time someone taught her a new spell, her inner slayer assessed the spell's potential as a weapon and it helped her to remember it.

"I have a brain," she complained. "There's no need to look at me as if I'm an alien from Mars."

Dumbledore recovered enough to clap a hand on her shoulder, and together they walked through the stone circle. His blue eyes twinkled brightly. "Not Mars, my dear: you are Minerva."

"Huh?"

"The Roman goddess of wisdom, strategic warfare and justice. Unlike Mars she was not the patron of violence but of those defending themselves."

Buffy sensed a message behind his words. He didn't want her to go dark. She had no idea why he thought she might. Had she displayed too much interest in the use of spells for fighting?

They continued along the path, Dumbledore went on, "That was a most excellent piece of deduction, my dear! The only criticism I need to make is your suggestion of its use during a duel... I can't say that I've ever seen it cast in the way you suggest. You see, although it's a difficult spell to master, it lacks significant power and fades when under the slightest pressure. Practise the casting and see what you make of it. If you need any help stay behind after one of my classes and I'll be glad to help you master it."

She thanked him politely, although really she wanted to argue about using the spell in a fight. Maybe not in a magical duel, she didn't know much about those, but in a magical fight it had value. It wouldn't matter if the charm broke, as long it held for a couple of seconds. Those few seconds could mean the difference between her surviving or dying, and she intended to live as long as she could.

Dumbledore hadn't finished. "However, two points to Slytherin for the recognition of a Warding Charm and another two for imaginative use. I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun exploring your spell repertoire in Professor Merrythought's duelling club."

They passed the low stone hut belonging to the elderly groundsman, continuing down the slope and heading for the Forbidden Forest. There, a small building stood on the very edge of the trees and the closer they got, the colder Buffy became. Even if she hadn't already been told the Dementor was in there, her slayer senses would have known.

From her studies, she'd learned that no one in the Wizarding World knew exactly how Dementors had been created. Buffy thought they could be from a hell dimension, probably summoned by a power-hungry, nerdy Dark Wizard bent on world domination. They must have got more than they'd bargained for. Now, the world was rife with Dementors, and she had a bad feeling it would be down her to rid the world of them.

Buffy hopped up onto a large boulder and looked down at the hut's carved wooden door. Someone had taken a while carving sigils into it. "Are the wards to stop the students getting in or the Dementor getting out?" she asked.

"They are for the students," Dumbledore replied. "The young are so curious when something new is around."

Demdike let out a contemptuous snort.

Lupin smiled knowingly. "Knowing a Dementor was inside, they'd dare each other to go in."

Dumbledore nodded ruefully. "Yes, we do have a few students like that." He went on. "There is no need to be concerned, Buffy. We have something far stronger than a ward guarding this Dementor for causing mischief." Taking an ornate iron key out of his robe pocket, he placed it in the lock and recited a long and complex incantation under his breath before turning the key.

Beside her, Lupin and Demdike had already drawn their wands. Buffy – not wanting to be weaponless – drew her own.

"Are you going to faint?" Demdike asked.

"What? No!" Buffy rolled her eyes. She must seriously be losing her touch if her resolute fighting face looked like her fear-face. "Why would I faint?"

Demdike sneered. "Because that's what you claimed happened the last time you were in the company of Dementors!" He turned, leaving Buffy staring stupidly at his back.

The guy was infuriating, but she had to ask herself: was he right? Dementors had a strong effect on her. Was that due to all those bad memories from her previous life? According to her DADA teacher, Dementors had a worse effect on those with lots of bad memories. Yeah, she had plenty of those. Death, loss, betrayal, abandonment... All she had to do was let her mind slide into the past and...

NO! Inwardly, she shook her head. She couldn't keep dwelling on the past. It was either going to drive her insane or get her killed.

Dumbledore pushed the door. It slid smoothly open without the slightest creak to reveal a dark space filled with centuries of old gardening implements and discarded Quidditch gear. Although she couldn't see the Dementor, the flood of icy cold told her it was close by. She didn't want to enter, but when the Wizards went inside, she followed.

The Dementor hovered in the furthest corner. Its head bowed and looking a lot less substantial than the last time she'd seen it. Was it fading from hunger? Why hadn't it fled? And then she spotted the Patronuses. Dippet's owl perched in the rafters, and Dumbledore's phoenix sat on the handle of an old fashioned grass roller. The Dementor must have had an uncomfortable night with those two guarding it.

Sensing her, the Dementor raised its cowled head to reveal a pallid, eyeless face that was straight from her nightmares. How did it know she was there? It seemed to be staring straight at her.

Lupin pocketed his wand. "Everything appears to be in order. I'll call the carriage."

While Lupin left to summon the coach, Dumbledore asked, "Buffy, do you wish to approach the Dementor?" His voice was kind, a suggestion only not an order. "It can't hurt you, not with the Patronuses present."

"I'm good right here, thanks." Until she found a way to deal with it, it was better if she kept her distance. Plus, Demdike would think she was a coward. Cowards didn't search for demons to slay, and she needed to keep her identity a secret.

There came the jingle of harness, the flapping of leathery wings and then the thudding of hooves and wheels on the grass as they touched the ground. The Dementor looked up, eyeing the door with interest. Was it smart enough to wonder at its fate?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a Mountain Hare Patronus hopping to the door, followed by Lupin. "The carriage has arrived. Professor Dumbledore, can you dismiss the Patronuses? We'll use our own from here."

"Of course."

Buffy hardly noticed Dumbledore's dismissal, her attention was on the Dementor. It hovered near the ceiling, its dark, tattered robe fluttering as it turned its head first in one direction and then another. Was it planning to escape?

Without thinking what she was doing, Buffy stepped forward, subtly angling her body so that it knew it had her to deal with, her hand going to the weapon in her pocket. The creature stilled, the shadowed face watching her. The Slayer looked back, a staring match between a creature born of darkness and one chosen to fight it.

"Gaining a little nerve, are we, Miss Summers?" Demdike drawled, his voice mocking.

She blinked quickly - pushing back the Slayer - before meeting Demdike's patronising expression. He sneered, and she realized that while she'd been engaged in a demonic staring match, he'd cast his Patronus. A glowing cat sat at the Unspeakable's feet, one leg in the air and busy washing its bottom.

Buffy grinned. "Feeling a little itchy back there?"

Demdike nudged the animal with his foot. It stopped, looked up, and fastened its dark eyes on Buffy, the tip of its tail lashing angrily from side to side.

"A grumpy cat. That's so you." Buffy sniggered.

Vexed, Demdike turned away, giving the Patronus a soft command. The cat bounded over to the Dementor and drove it from the building. Outside, the team of skeletal horses reared in fright, sending the coach bouncing as they pulled against the magical brake holding it in place. Pushing Demdike to one side, Buffy darted over and grabbed the reins of the nearest Thestral.

"Whoa, steady now." She held the plunging beast, talking softly and stroking the stallion's nose until it grew calmer. The strangely ugly, yet beautiful creature dipped its head, blowing softly into her hand.

"You've seen death," Lupin commented as he walked to the front of the carriage, his face sombre.

Buffy nodded and rubbed the skin of the Thestral's face. Its companion sidled closer and snorted – wanting some of her attention.

Demdike eyed her and bluntly asked, "Who did you see die?"

"I...don't know."

The Dementor had stopped, hovering above the pathway, its head turned in the direction of the castle.

"Get into the carriage," Demdike snapped. His cat was lazing at his feet once more. "We have honest work for you that pays." He smiled darkly. "In the form of... sustenance."

The Dementor moved once more. Lupins hare lolloped in front of it and then jumped up through the open door of the carriage. Buffy guessed it would make a much better guard than Demdike's Patronus. His cat was lazy.

Lupin climbed into the driver's seat and picked up the reins. "It was good to see you again, Professor," he called down to Dumbledore. He touched his hat to Buffy. "Miss Lovegood, a pleasure to make your acquain-."

The Dementor flung itself sideways. Buffy glimpsed the creature's gaping mouth before the Thestral beside her screamed and tried to take off. The large, dark, leathery wings flapping and obscuring the Dementor from view. From somewhere nearby, she heard Dumbledore shout, but the weapon given to her by the mysterious benefactor had already left her hand. It soared through the air, missing the fast beating wing, and striking at the tattered torso. The force of the blow sent the Dementor falling, landing against the body of the coach where it began to writhe in agony as it tried to free itself from the pointed shaft.

"A stake?" Demdike asked. "I have to admit you made an amazingly accurate throw. But where did you get that stake from, Miss Summers? I thought I'd been given all the broomstick shards."

A/N;

More on the stake in the next chapter. Congratulations to those who guessed what it was she'd been given at the end of the last chapter.
Yes, there will be repercussions from this further down the line. It's never good to get on the Ministry's radar.

Thank you to my beta Deiticlast for his help in correcting. Fast as usual. Any mistakes are mine as I fiddle with the writing after he sends it back.

I have been struggling with my health over the past two weeks, so forgive me if this is not up to the usual standard. Also, for some reason, Musey has also made me take up working with clay. It might be because I wanted to buy lots of nice (expensive) things, couldn't afford them and had to make myself. Most are Celtic themed with a magical twist. ;0-)

Thanks to all those who take the time to leave a comment and let me know you are reading.