I Know What You Did This Summer...
The Ministry carriage grew smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared into the clouds. Professor Dumbledore took that as a sign that it was time to leave. Without a word to Buffy, he began walking up the slope back towards the castle.
Buffy didn't immediately follow. She chewed on her bottom lip, figuring out what to say to him if he started to ask awkward questions. She'd answered all of Demdike's. They'd mainly been why she'd thrown a stake rather than use her magic to defend herself. Buffy had no choice but to turn on the Californian blonde act, playing dumb and pretending she'd reverted to being a helpless, terrified Muggle. She'd felt quite proud of her acting at the time. Now, though, she wasn't so sure.
Dumbledore had been watching her and it was obvious he was going to be more of a problem. Since he'd examined the stake she'd used on the attacking Dementor, Dumbledore's face had grown colder and more closed off.
Trying not to let it get to her, Buffy skipped after him. "So... Guess it's back to the infirmary for me, huh?"
"Yes." He strode on, making no allowances for her shorter stride and letting her jog to keep pace with him. Not that she couldn't outrun him, but that wasn't the point.
"I'm sensing unhappiness here, Professor. Are you disappointed because I didn't cast a Patronus again? I told Dem-face the truth, I forgot."
He didn't reply, simply dipped his head, and walked on.
Buffy ran after him. "Look! I know you've taken the time to tutor me this summer and I'm grateful. Really, I am. But... I just reverted back to using Muggle defences when that thing attacked me. Sorry." And by Muggle, she meant Slayer.
Dumbledore spun so fast that Buffy, who was jogging to keep up with his pace, almost collided with his sparkly-robed chest. Slayer reflexes saved her and she took a fast step back. There was disappointment in his face and another expression, gone so fast that she had trouble reading it... Disbelief? Betrayal? Suspicion?
"Stealing is considered a crime in most societies, Miss Summers – Muggle or Magical."
"Huh?"
He let out a heavy sigh. "Madam Hooch reported the theft of a broomstick from the school's store. It was there yesterday and today it is gone."
She wrinkled her nose with confusion. "And this is to do with me, how? Oh! The stake! It was made from the missing broomstick." That explained his coldness to her, he thought she'd snuck out and stole it.
He nodded, then moved off again, leaving the pathway and cutting across the grass.
Buffy grimaced and tiptoed across the wet grass and mud after him. "I didn't take it!"
"And yet it appears in your possession." His face had darkened with anger and he wasn't attempting to hide the disdain in his voice. "What would I find if I conducted a search of your possessions?"
Happen? Buffy felt ill. Spikey liked hanging out in her trunk. If Dumbledore disturbed him, Gellert Grindelwald would leap out, everyone would scream, and the castle would be in an uproar. She'd probably be expelled for bringing illegal creatures into the castle.
Her silence was making him angrier. "Yes, what would I discover? The rest of the missing broom, perhaps? Will I find birch bristles placed in the folds of your bed curtains to ward off vampires?"
Crap! Her heart rate sped up. If connections were made between herself and vampires, she could find herself hauled in by the Aurors and facing a prison sentence. She didn't want to be in a cell with a hundred hungry Dementors facing her. Not unless she could kill them.
Aware Dumbledore was waiting for her to answer and drawing all the wrong conclusions from her silence, she deflected. "Do birch bristles keep vampires away?"
The withering look Dumbledore gave her would have had most students squirming. Buffy wasn't 'most students'. She was created to not only take down but stare down demons. "Only... isn't it garlic that vampires hate? Not that I know much about vampires..." Not in this dimension, but give me time. Buffy gave Dumbledore her most winning smile – hoping to put him at ease. It was an especially compelling, playful and yet charismatic smile with an undercurrent of danger that produced a strong reaction in her Transfiguration professor.
Dumbledore visibly paled.
Facing that horrified reaction, Buffy's smile faltered. "Honestly," she said. "I didn't steal the broomstick. This is the first time I've left the infirmary since the accident. You can ask Madam Bones."
They walked on, rounding a corner of the castle and moving along the base of the castle wall. Dumbledore's silence began to weigh heavily on Buffy. "Professor, if it makes you feel better, I'll take one of those magical oath-y things the Aurors use. Roz Moody told me about them."
"That... won't be necessary. However, if you didn't take the broom, how did you acquire the stake?"
"Someone gave it to me whilst I was in the hall."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
He gazed at her doubtfully. "You're telling me that someone stole a broomstick, created a stake from the handle, and then passed it to you, all without you guessing who they were?"
Buffy winced, staring up at the tall, grey wall of the castle to avoid his gaze. "Um, yeah, that about sums it up." She flicked her gaze back to him. "I know it's sounding kinda weird, but there was a crowd around me, and I had the stake pushed into my hand, and I really don't know who it was."
"Hmm. How many stakes were you given?"
"Just one." Buffy was starting to think this could be a set-up to get her expelled. She might have enemies. Dolohov wasn't nice. And then there were the Pawing Parkinsons. Had they stolen the broom and planted the evidence on her? Or... what if it had been a message? A message to say, 'I know what you did over the summer'. Did someone, other than Lovell, know she was a vampire killer? What if they tried to blackmail her? Buffy decided she couldn't risk being outed. She'd have to find out who they were and Obliviate them before they told people. That wouldn't be too hard, would it? It was only making someone forget.
"Someone thought you'd be put in danger," Dumbledore mused. "And provided you with an alternate means of defence. One that a Muggle would be happier using."
Muggle. Yeah, let him keep thinking that. Don't let him think Slayer or Vampire Hunter. Buffy thought back to the students in the hallway and who could have given her the stake.
"A lot of students thought I was in danger," she replied. She'd been as surprised as Demdike and Lupin when she'd seen the students waiting for them in the hall. So surprised that she might not have noticed someone if someone had used a Disillusionment Charm to hide from her. "Was I in danger of being arrested by the Ministry?"
"Not whilst I was there."
That didn't sound promising. Dumbledore must think she was in danger of being taken by Demdike to be 'questioned' in a laboratory situation. Why had she used the stake? Instead of using the wand, she'd fallen back on the instincts of a lifetime – not her present lifetime – and used a stake.
Dumbledore stopped in front of a low doorway set into the castle wall. Buffy waited, knowing that he'd open it when he was ready. He caught her eye and said in a low voice, "Solomon Demdike is not a man you should ever trust. The Unspeakables have a tendency to become..." he hesitated, searching for the correct words, "caught up in their work. Avoid all of them where possible and never go anywhere with them unless I know and agree to it." He kept up the eye contact, impressing on her the importance of his warning. "If you'd been from an influential family, such as the Lestranges, it would be far more likely that he'd leave you be. As it is..."
"Daughter of a Squib, my father..." She eyed him, before finishing, "...a Muggle – on paper."
Dumbledore regarded her steadily. Too steadily, considering what she'd just imparted. Any other professor would have been startled, but Dumbledore wasn't, which meant... Buffy narrowed her eyes. He knew.
He gave her a gentle, almost wistful smile. "Quite."
'Quite'? She'd just admitted not believing her dad was a Muggle and all he had to say was 'quite'?
"So," Dumbledore went on, "in future, do try to avoid trouble. From now on, I expect you to become one of Hogwarts' most exemplary students. You're an intelligent girl, Buffy, do that intelligence justice."
And what was that supposed to mean? Do her intelligence justice? Was he going Slytherin on her and deflecting? So... if he wasn't going to admit to knowing who her true father was, she'd need to wait and ask her mom at Christmas.
"Exemplary, that's me. Mom's already given me a long list of things I'm not allowed to do." Buffy ticked them off on her fingers. "No playing Quidditch – it's too dangerous. No dating cute boys – they'll distract from my studies and I'm behind enough already. No shopping trips – in case of Dark Wizards hiding out in gown shops. No staking creepies – it's too dangerous. The only thing she says I'm allowed to do is studying in the library. I can go to the library, can't I? That's not too dangerous is it? None of the books there are gonna try to eat me?"
Dumbledore pushed open the wooden door. It swung open, revealing a narrow, winding corridor beyond. "Excellent advice. I'd say the same to a child of mine, if I had one. You shouldn't run into too much trouble in the library, but do try to stay away from the Restricted Section."
They ducked their heads as they passed through the low doorway. Dumbledore motioned her to close the door and then they walked along the uneven passageway together.
"One thing is puzzling me," Dumbledore said after a few moments. "And that is your accuracy at throwing? It was quite an amazing skill that you displayed."
"Must be all the javelin throwing I've done."
Dumbledore threw her a questioning look, and she explained, "They teach javelin in schools."
"Do they?" He sounded surprised. "How perfectly marvellous. There must be many subjects taught in Muggle schools that you miss?"
Buffy's mind went blank. "Um, no. Who needs science, when you can have magic and potions?"
"Ah, magic is such a wonder." Dumbledore opened up another door in the passageway. They stepped in and entered a laundry, empty apart from a huge vat of steaming hot water and suds with clothes swishing around inside of it. Over their heads racks and racks of shirts and blouses, moved slightly as they dried in the rising warm air.
"Does that lead to the kitchens?" Buffy nodded towards a door on the opposite side of the room. From somewhere behind it she could hear the sound of pots rattling and china being moved.
"Yes. These areas are mainly used by the house-elves, but I thought it wiser for us to enter this way. We wouldn't want to run into your fan club, would we?"
"I don't have a fan club. I have friends." Truthfully, Buffy knew most of the Slytherins who'd been in the hall weren't her friends. A lot of them had barely spoken to her or, if they had, said horrible things. Buffy decided to be nicer to them in future. The next time they spoke of blood purity, she wouldn't ask if they had any siblings with two heads.
The Hogwarts kitchen lay directly beneath the Great Hall and when Buffy entered the room, she saw it was laid out similarly. There were even five long tables, each one in the same position as the ones above. She quickly scanned the chamber, taking in the high-ceilings and the house-elves, all busily preparing the evening meal. On one side, a number of elves worked at the stoves and at the farthest end of the room, there appeared to be a full cow being rotated over a fire.
"Professor?" squeaked a very thin, elderly elf who'd sidled up beside them. He bowed so deeply that his enormous ears swept the ground. He wore a piece of stained, brown sacking tied around his mid-section with fraying string. The garment was short enough to show not only two knobbly knees but also a pair of scrawny, withered thighs. As Buffy wasn't sure if House-elves wore any underwear – it wasn't something she wanted to research – she kept her eyes on his face and didn't look at his hands which had begun lifting his clothing and wringing it with agitation.
"Buffy, this is Blinky, Hogwarts' chief house-elf."
"Hello, Blinky," she said politely. Still staring at his face, she waved her hand in front of her, unsure whether to offer to shake his hand.
He bowed yet again. "Hello, Miss Buffy. Blinky is most pleased to make your acquaintance today." He shot another look at Dumbledore, a quiver of fear in his voice as he asked, "Have we done anything wrong, Professor, sir? Have we made a mistake in our work?" The other elves let out high-pitched squeaks of panic.
"No, no, indeed not!" Dumbledore smiled around him. "All your work is most excellent and I have nothing but praise for you. I was only showing Buffy the kitchen entrance. All is well."
Blinky beamed, then bowed again. "Would you like something to eat, Professor Dumbledore? Ice cream? Seed cake? Pumpkin pie?" He gave the professor a knowing wink. "Or how about that delicious syrup sponge pudding with that extra-thick custard that you like?"
"Er, no." Blinky looked so disheartened at the refusal, Dumbledore relented, saying, "Perhaps later. In the meantime, could you run a small errand?"
The elderly elf nodded eagerly.
"Tell Professor Trelawney that I'll call into her office in," he checked the clock hanging on the wall, "approximately three quarters of an hour from now." Instantly, the elf disapparated with a sharp crack.
They moved on, past the rows of now smiling house-elves. Spying Tiptoes, the young female elf who'd served her in the hospital wing, Buffy waved, making the little creature first blush and then look at her neighbours proudly.
"Why do elves want to serve?" Buffy asked. Lovell had tried explaining it to her, but she hadn't understood. It hadn't helped that Lovell had gotten sidetracked by how good their food was and how they always made his bed at Hogwarts.
Dumbledore hummed. "Well, you see... no one knows the right answer to that question. There have been many theories over the years. Some believe an ancient magical pact was made long ago, others claim it is because of Wizarding superiority in general."
Buffy snorted.
Dumbledore smiled. "I don't believe that one either," he confided. "The most common theory is that the relationship is a symbiotic one. Once the bond is spoken, the family gains a loyal servant and the elf gains a home for life and a purpose. While it's true sometimes they aren't treated as well as they should be, most care for their house-elves and their elves care for them."
Dumbledore opened the next door and, this time, Buffy found herself climbing out of a hole in the wall into a wide, well-lit passageway. Behind her the door closed, and she saw that it was a painting. Dumbledore pointed to the pear in the still life picture. "Should you ever wish to enter the kitchen again, simply tickle that pear until it giggles and it forms a handle."
"I'll remember that," Buffy replied with a smirk. "Tickle the pear until it gets an eruption."
She grinned all the wider at Dumbledore's startled look and the way he hurried off along the corridor. It said a lot about Hogwarts that tickling pears wasn't the weirdest way of opening a door. When they'd built the castle, the Founders had installed all sorts of quirks in everyday objects. Some classrooms wouldn't let you enter until you fondled the door handle, there were moving staircases, and even the classrooms could move from one day to the next.
A memory of Tom whispering and fondling a wall popped into Buffy's head and had her asking, "Are there any hidden chambers in Hogwarts that I should know about?"
"There are many hidden staircases and chambers in Hogwarts." As if to prove a point, Dumbledore pulled aside a tapestry revealing a narrow stone staircase set into the deep wall beyond. He cast a Lumos and began moving up the narrow stairs.
"Are there any uber-secret rooms?" She knew Tom. If he was looking for a hidden room, it was bound to contain something good. She could picture his face now, dark hair falling into his eyes as his sensitive hands moved across the wall, those arched lips of his pouting, just begging to be -.
"Secret chambers? Have you been reading the history of Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore's question yanked her from her thoughts. There'd been an odd note in his voice that had her scenting a mystery and eyeing him sharply.
"I might have..." she lied. She'd a copy of the book 'Hogwarts, A History'. It was right at the bottom of her trunk and it hadn't seen the light of day since the day she'd packed her stuff. She went on, "So, hidden chambers and... let me guess... dark secrets just waiting to be uncovered?" It wasn't much of a guess. Hogwarts was as old as dirt and there were bound to be hidden rooms filled with long-forgotten knowledge.
"Something like that," Dumbledore mumbled.
"What's in it? Past Headmasters who've gone insane and had to be locked away for student safety?"
Dumbledore let out a laugh. "That is by far the best guess I've heard yet and it wouldn't surprise me. Not with all the troublesome students I've encountered over the years." He grinned at her as he said it.
Troublesome? She eyed the back of his head sullenly. Did he mean her? What had she done that was so bad? At least, what he knew about...
He continued, "No one really knows what's locked inside the Chamber of Secrets."
"Chamber of Secrets? That sounds promising!" It might be full of weapons and books on how to kill Dementors! She gave an excited wave of her wand, and the light on the end grew brighter as her Slayer magic rose.
"Salazar Slytherin supposedly built it to house his greatest secrets..."
The Slayer grinned. There had to be a weapon in there!
"There's no use searching for its entrance. He claimed that only his true heir could open it and I doubt that is you. If the chamber does exist – and it is my belief that it does not – then opening it will be detrimental for all. Salazar Slytherin was known for dabbling in the Dark Arts and had an intense dislike of those born to Muggle parents."
"Cool," she said. He was bound to have filled it with books on the Dark Arts and maybe lots and lots of weapons. There might even be information on spells that kill Dementors.
"Cool? Whatever is in there will be far from cool. I am warning you, nothing good will come of you looking for it."
Nothing good? Dealing with nothing good was her thing. Buffy decided she'd read Bathilda Bagshot's book as soon as she had the chance. It was a big book. Would it have any cliff notes? She'd ask Tom. He always had his head in a book – when he wasn't patting down walls, looking for secret chambers.
Dumbledore led her out of the stairwell, squeezing through a narrow gap in the stones and sliding past a statue of a hunch-backed witch holding out an apple. Buffy frowned at it. That looked like the witch from Snow White! The name carved on the base of the plinth read 'Hepzibah the Harried'.
"A most generous woman who fed the poor and was sadly persecuted by Muggles," said Dumbledore, noticing her interest.
In that case, she probably wasn't the evil witch from Snow White. "Oh, okay. I need to look her up sometime." It was probably best not to ask why she had so many warts. The one on her nose was huge. "So... the Chamber of Secrets... is it on the seventh floor?"
He let out a small laugh. "Goodness, Buffy, you have been busy! I can tell you now that the room on the seventh floor is NOT the Chamber of Secrets. That room is..." he broke off and wagged an admonishing finger at her. "No, I shan't tell you the purpose of that room. If you want to know more, you must ask the elves. They will tell you, if they so wish."
They walked along more empty corridors, corridors that Buffy couldn't recall from either her official classes or her unofficial patrols. Where was she? To get her bearings, Buffy took a long look out of the next window they came to. Rain hit the small, warped panes of leaded glass, making it difficult to see outside. She thought she saw roofs and an inner courtyard.
"Those visions you have..." Dumbledore began. He'd slowed when she'd stopped by the window and now ambled amiably alongside her.
"Flashbacks, not visions," she said firmly.
He nodded, his eyes on her. "Flashbacks, if you prefer. How long have they been occurring?"
"Since I woke up under the rubble and didn't know who I was." She had no intention of telling him everything, but she'd come to the conclusion she needed help. Almost dying at the hands of a Dementor had been a wake-up call. "I've spoken to Lovell about them, but no one else knows. Mom has enough to worry about and Uncle Peregrine... he will just fret and tell me to speak to mom."
"I agree," Dumbledore replied. "Joyce's health is not good and it is wise not to worry her. Lovell is a good confidante to have. He is not the type to gossip."
He led her into a dark classroom and she stopped by the door until he opened the long velvet curtains with a swish of his wand. Another swish and the flames lit in the lanterns hanging from the wall. They lit up the room and Buffy saw that it was piled high with junk: broken chairs, wonky desks, the results of experiments gone wrong, tilting shelves, and piles and piles of ancient homework half-eaten by mice.
Dust rose, hitting her nose and she sneezed.
"Sorry about that," said Dumbledore, casting yet another spell to vanish the majority of the dust. He perched on the edge of one of the more stable desks. "Do you see the object stood just beyond the stone arch? The one with a sheet covering it?"
Buffy turned to look. For a moment, she couldn't see what he meant as she was expecting to see something small. Then she realised he was pointing at the biggest thing in the room. "Is that a painting under there?"
"Not a painting, but a mirror."
She cocked her head and waited.
"I thought it might help with the visions you've been having."
Her eyes narrowed."Not visions." She wished he'd stop calling them that.
"Flashbacks then. Close your eyes and let me lead you across to the mirror."
That sounded ominous. Although her slayer senses didn't register anything dangerous in the room she was still wary as she closed her eyes and held out her arm. Dumbledore took it and led her slowly over to the mirror.
"Keep your eyes shut," he warned and she screwed them even tighter closed.
There was a soft swish as the sheet was pulled off and a whiff of dust as it floated onto the floor. Buffy reached out with her senses again. No danger. The magic in the room hadn't changed and next to her she sensed that Dumbledore was relaxed.
"Keep your eyes closed for a little longer." He let go of her arm and stepped back. "I want you to think about all those vi– flashbacks you've had. Try to remember the good ones rather than the bad."
Warmth beat down on her face, and in her arms she felt the solidness of books held against her chest. There were clear blue skies above her head and the front lawn of Sunnydale High was in front of her. She felt... content. No homework was due and the world wasn't about to end. If she was lucky she'd see Angel tonight. Life was as good as it got for a freshly called young Slayer.
"Buffy!" shouted a girl, and she spotted Willow circling a crowd of students – Cordelia and her wannabes.
"Hey, Buffster!" She turned to see Xander standing alongside her, his shirt untucked, his warm brown eyes sparkling with mischief and a wide grin on his face. "Are we Bronzin' tonight?"
"Now open your eyes," Dumbledore ordered, sounding far away.
Buffy pushed the scene from her mind, opened her eyes and stared into the mirror in front of her She took a step back. Unsure if she was really seeing what was in front of her. There, in the mirror, were Willow, Xander, Giles, Dawn, her mom, Angel, and... was that Jesse? More kids were appearing. Kids that she didn't know all that well but had seen die or found dead. People who'd died because of her. Now, they weren't dead. They'd never become the victims of evil because she'd been there in time to save them.
"What do you see?"
She shot Dumbledore a sideways glance. From where he stood, he wouldn't be able to see what she could. Why ask? Why not look? "My friends, mainly. And... other people. People who died during my past life." It was enough, she didn't have to tell him everything.
"This is the Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore said to her – as if it should mean something.
"Erised?" What language did that name spring from? It was hard to think when she was so distracted. Tears came into her eyes as she watched. Giles polishing his glasses to see her more clearly and her mom's face full of love and understanding. If only she could spend a little time with them.
"Is this a portal?" Buffy reached out, the tips of her fingers hitting the smooth, hard glass. There was wetness on her face. She touched it and discovered tears. She didn't remember starting to cry, but she must have done. Trying not to be obvious about it, she brushed them away. "Is there a way of going back?"
Dumbledore didn't answer straight away. When she looked over, she saw that he was studying the lines in the floor, caught up in sad memories of his own. When he raised his eyes, they met hers. Blue shards filled with... longing and regret.
"I'm afraid there's no way of going back. We cannot live in the past, no matter how much we'd like to. Nor does it do to dwell in our dreams and forget to live in the present." He shook himself. The melancholy left, and he gave her a resigned smile. "It isn't a portal, Buffy. The clue is in the name... and what is written above the mirror."
Over the mirror? She hadn't noticed. Buffy tilted her head to read the writing carved into the wood. The language wasn't familiar to her, and she stumbled over the pronunciation. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." She let out an annoyed huff. "Honestly? Can you get any vaguer? Because that makes no -."
She stilled, took another look at the words, and then the reflection of her friends. "Oh! It's backwards!" She read the words again. "I show not your face but your heart's desire."
Dumbledore nodded. "A mirror that shows your deepest desires. Now, I want you to try something else. Close your eyes once more."
Buffy stubbornly stared back at the reflection of her friends. She didn't want to close her eyes and have them disappear. She missed her old life. If Willow's resurrection spell had worked, she'd have woken up and gone back to her old life. But... would she have been happy?
"Buffy! Close your eyes."
Buffy obeyed him, reluctantly shutting out the faces of those she loved to be alone again.
"I want you to think about your new life here. Think about everything that makes you happy. Think of your mother, your uncle, your cousin, and all the friends you've made. Hold their images in your mind. Can you do that?
Buffy nodded.
"Good. Think of them and open your eyes."
She thought of her mother in this life. A mom who knew all about magic but yet didn't fit in with Wizards. A mom who loved her daughter just as fiercely as her old mother had. She thought of her crazy uncle and the bird hat he insisted on wearing whenever he went out. A crazy uncle who'd rescued her from Wools' and invited her to live with him, and the tender way he rushed about caring for her sick mom.
That thought led her to think of Lovell, her shy and gentle cousin who'd rather study the anatomy of a moth than deal with real people. Yet he, too, had embraced her presence, treating her like a long-lost sister. She thought of her new roommates, Uma and Fiona, who were nothing like Willow and Xander, but had shown her friendship from the very first evening in Slytherin. And she thought of a dark and moody Slytherin, Tom Riddle, and the golden-haired Gryffindor, Caradoc Dearborn. Both friends in a cute-boy-possibly-more kind of way.
And lastly, she thought of magic. How the power felt inside her, how she felt when a spell went right and how much she enjoyed studying at Hogwarts.
Buffy opened her eyes to stare directly into the Mirror of Erised.
"What do you see now, Buffy?" Dumbledore asked. "What do you see?
…
A/N;
Thanks to Deiticlast for his beta work.
Thank you to all of you who choose to leave a comment in the review box. I work for comments! More comments and I work harder, less comments and I vanish. So comments are appreciated. :-)
Title from – the film of a similar name.
Sarah Michelle Gellar starred in 'I Know What You Did Last Summer' 1997.