A/N
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Captured!
"Where are you off to?" Fiona's voice called out in the darkness of the bedroom.
In the process of turning the door handle, Buffy froze.
Light flared around the room as Fiona cast a Lumos, and Buffy turned, a rueful expression on her face. Should she come clean and tell the truth or bend it... slightly?
Fiona was sitting up, taking in Buffy's boy's outfit with interest. "Anything you care to tell us, Buffy?" She looked at the clock next to her bed – quarter to twelve. "Dressed like that, you're hardly going on a bathroom visit. And if you're planning an external adventure, make sure the prefects don't catch you, or you'll be facing a month's detention with Sluggy."
"Are you meeting someone?" Uma had shoved her head through the bed curtains. "Is that why you keep sneaking out at night – to meet him?"
Buffy closed her eyes. This was bad. They'd not only caught her – they knew she'd snuck out before.
"Merlin and Morgana!" squealed Fiona. "She's right! You have a boyfriend!"
"Shh!" Buffy hissed, shooting a look at the door. If someone overheard...
"Spill the beans." Uma yanked back her curtains, looking as if she meant business. "We need all the dirty details. And when I say all of them, I mean all of them. Especially the parts where he stuck his tongue into your mouth."
"I don't have a boyfriend," Buffy hissed, feeling overwhelmed by their enthusiasm "I... I have insomnia. If I can't sleep, I sneak out, and... I go and wander. I look at portraits and ancient pieces of armour and weapons, and then – when I get sleepy – I return from whence I came. There are no boys involved, no tongues and no mystery. It's just me..." She raised her shoulders, then dropped them. "...and my insomnia"
It wasn't a complete lie. Slayers were made for action and since there was no need to hunt vampires or divert apocalypses, she often couldn't sleep because she had so much unspent energy. It wasn't the reason for tonight's sneak-out, though. Tonight, it was Travers' fault. Her brain had refused to switch off because he seemed to think the word Watcher and Dictator were interchangeable. She'd been churning over in her head what had happened during the Scooby meeting and finally decided she needed to burn off some energy.
"Insomnia? That's so boring!" Fiona flung herself back down on the bed with a dramatic groan. "You've stolen all the fun. Uma was sure you had a secret lover."
"I thought it was Caradoc Dearborn." Uma yawned. "One night, I was sure I heard you talking to him behind your curtains..."
Buffy stilled. Were they going to go Malfoy on her and give her a lecture about fraternizing with the enemy House?
Uma finished. "...I thought you'd sneaked him in here for some nookie."
"Is that a problem?" Buffy asked.
Fiona sat back up and Uma gasped.
"Ugh, not me bringing a boy back for er, nookie," Buffy quickly added, "because that's totally not me, but –."
"It couldn't happen," Fiona interrupted. "Boys can't get in the girls' rooms because of all the ancient wards created by the original Founders. They were very strict about things like that a thousand years ago. If a boy held your hand, they thought it was a proposal of marriage. I said to Uma that you'd probably been talking in your sleep."
Buffy nodded. "Um, okay. So now that we've established I didn't bring a boy back here, I talk in my sleep, I have insomnia and amnesia... I wanna ask... would you object if I dated a Gryffindor?"
"You are dating Caradoc!" Fiona bounced on her bed with excitement and Uma let out a too-loud shriek.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Shush! I am not dating Caradoc – yet. I just wanted to know what you'd think about it. Malfoy and his stoogies saw me with him today and weren't happy. We were only sitting together. And not in a together-together type of way." She added that last bit to stop Fiona from bouncing off her bed.
Fiona laughed. "Why should we care? Malfoy is a stuck-up arse. We don't care who you–." She stopped as she noticed the expression Uma was giving her. "What? Oh! It makes sense now!"
Fiona explained. "We were in the Common Room earlier and Mulcibar came over. He asked if you'd received any edible gifts, and if you'd been acting stranger than normal."
"Mulcibar asked that? What a weirdo," Buffy scoffed, covering her twinge of fear. Why was he suddenly asking about her? She hadn't been aware that he knew she existed.
"He probably thinks you are under the influence."
"Influence?" Buffy frowned, feeling at a loss. "Of what, alcohol?"
"Of Love Potion," Uma explained. "Sometimes would-be suitors give the object of their affections edible gifts laced with Love Potion. That way, they get their declarations of undying love an' a hot date."
Buffy shuddered. She still hadn't forgotten Malfoy insinuating her Uncle Peregrine would feed her love potion and marry her off to one of the strange Wizards he sold his plants to. "I hope you told him no?"
"Of course, we told him no." Fiona snorted. "Victims of Love Potions are easy to spot. Apart from the insomnia, the amnesia, wearing Spectrespecs, staring at invisible monsters, and talking in your sleep, you're completely normal."
"We told him to sling his wand," Uma added happily. "I bet Malfoy 'ad him come over an' sound us out. It's the type of thing he does. He prances around, thinking he's the Prince of Slytherin and all the girls want a piece." She moved over to the side of the bed and dangled her legs over the edge. "Never mind 'im. You need to tell us in future before you sneak out."
Fiona nodded. "We'd feel better if you do. Drippy Dippy is right. Hogwarts is dangerous to wander around on your own. I mean... have you seen the way Peeves looks at you?"
"What? Um, no?" Buffy generally ignored the poltergeist. "What does he do?"
"He goes a funny colour and his eyes cross," Fiona replied. "You need to watch out for him. He's bloody dangerous. Do you know he almost killed a first year who'd gotten lost?"
"When did this happen?" Buffy asked, aghast.
Fiona shrugged. "Oh, about three hundred years ago. They found her unconscious in one of the corridors. If the portraits hadn't seen him throwing a golf club at her and passed a message on, she'd have died of brain injuries."
"And then there's all those things that keep attacking you." Uma added and regarded her warily.
"I guess you've read the newspaper article." Buffy was already sick of people asking her about it and wanting to know if she'd really beaten up a photographer in front of Dippet and Dumbledore.
Uma nodded glumly. "We didn't want to say anything before, in case it put you off yer dinner, but Peter Skeeter's related to me. His mother was a Crabbe and he's also cousin to dad. Not that any of us like him." She curled her lip. "My mam, she says Peter would sell his granny for a good story and she won't have him in the house, even at Christmas..."
…
In a musty corridor not far from the Slytherin Common Room, Spikey surprised Buffy by stepping from the shadows wearing Caradoc's likeness. She did a double-take. He really had the tall sixth-former down to a 't', right down to the itchy-looking scarf that he always wore around the school corridors since the weather had grown colder.
"If you're trying to scare me, it isn't working."
The boggart smirked and lunged, lips puckering as he tried to land a kiss on her cheek. Buffy squeaked, sidestepped and bounded for the stairs. The boggart watched with amusement, his grin getting inhumanly wide before taking off after her. Not once, did he look back at his victim.
At the top of the stairs, Buffy waited. "What's got into you, Spikey? That kind of thing could put me off kissing for life."
An odd expression came to the boggart's face, one that she'd never seen on Caradoc's, a mixture of excitement and mischief.
"You have the wackiest sense of humour."
The boggart cocked his head, then glanced down the way they'd come, his expression sly.
"Is Peeves following us again?" Buffy stared into the dark stairwell. Even with her enhanced night vision, she couldn't see anything and the magic bouncing around the walls made sensing the poltergeist impossible. She sighed. It was best to move on. If Peeves showed up and Spikey chased him, Peeves would probably scream to draw attention to them.
"C'mon." She walked on, turning into a side corridor and speed-walked along a portrait gallery where all the sitters slept inside their frames. She stopped at a statue of two wizards shaking hands; the plaque on the podium stated it commemorated a long-ago decree. In the base, a narrow gap had been cut and she slipped through it, to the hidden passageway in the wall beyond.
Buffy cast a low-level Lumos to let her see the steps that rose up within the wall. "I need a Hand of Glory," she muttered.
Caradoc cocked his head listening to her, her ever silent companion.
"I saw one advertised in a Borgin and Burke's catalogue. It's this hand-shaped thing. You light the finger and only you can see the light that it gives off. It's pretty neat. The more expensive versions have an immobiliser spell and a Unlocking Charm built in. I was thinking of asking Mom to buy me one for Christmas. I thought it might come in handy."
She looked over her shoulder; the boggart had shrunk himself to her size to avoid having his head scraping the roof of the passageway. "Handy? Get it?"
Spikey showed his teeth at her. She took that to mean he wasn't impressed. "What happened to your sense of humour? Did you have a bypass?"
Spikey bared his teeth again and brushed a spider's web from his face.
"Walburga asked me where you were at the Scooby meeting. I think she fancies you."
Spikey transformed into vampire Spike, strutted forward a few steps, then had to fight off a web that became entangled around his ear.
Buffy grinned. "Yeah, I'm sure she'd be really impressed by your moves there, Spikey." She turned away, her face becoming thoughtful as she went over the events of the meeting in her head.
Walburga had waltzed into the disused classroom over half an hour late. "What?" she asked, tossing her dark braid over her shoulder."Why are you all looking at me like that? Have I something on my face?"
"You're late!" Travers snapped, forgetting that he'd also been late himself. "We have better things to do than pander to your dreadful timekeeping."
"Dreadful timekeeping?" Walburga huffed, marching over to the table where they all sat. "Please, I knew what time it was. I simply didn't care." She smirked happily at Buffy. "I borrowed the key to the prefects bathroom off Lucretia. It's amazing. There's all these taps and each one contains something different. No wonder they –."
"You don't care?!" Travers gaped at her. "I remember you were the one begging to be included. Now you're telling me that you don't care? I knew I should have Obliviated you –."
He stopped, abruptly, as an offended Walburga held her wand at his face. "SHUT YOUR FILTHY, VILE MOUTH, SCUM!"
Dust fell, dislodged from the ceiling joists by her screech, and from somewhere near the back of the classroom, a mouse squeaked and scuttled off across wooden boards.
Travers blinked, having forgotten how loud Walburga could be. Buffy, sitting facing him, covered her mouth so that he couldn't see her grin. Her eyes darted to where Lovell sat. Catching her eye, he rolled his own in response, before ducking his head in case Walburga or Travers spotted him.
Travers had spotted them exchanging looks. Deciding to ignore Walburga, he began haranguing her instead. "Miss Summers –."
"No need to stand on formalities, call me Buffy."
"As I am the only one here," Travers drawled, a sneer on his face, "with any knowledge of how the relationship between a Watcher and Slayer works, I shall create the rules. From now on, you will address me as Mister Travers..."
"Or your Highness?" quipped Buffy.
"Nor will you use sarcasm in my presence."
Walburga dragged a chair out noisily. "Don't let him speak to you like that, Buffy. Who does he think he is?"
Travers' dark eyes swung to Walburga. Anger brimming in them. "I may be nothing more than a Mudblood..."
Lovell gasped.
"...to you, but my family traces their leadership of the Watchers' Council back to the early 1700s. They were Council members for far longer than that. Now that my father is a German POW..."
"What's a POW?" asked Walburga."Priggish Old Woman?"
"Prisoner of War," supplied Buffy helpfully.
"... and the Council no longer exists in its old form, its leadership and direction rests solely with me.
Miss Black, do stop scuffling. I am giving an important speech here. You asked me what a Slayer is. I shall tell you. A Slayer is a weapon – in a long line of Slayers that were originally created for the Council's (that's me) usage in their fight against the powers of darkness.
A Slayer, you see, changes often and yet the Council remains the same. It's been that way since the beginning. It is Miss Summers' job to follow orders and be submissive to those with more knowledge than herself...
Travers, Walburga, Lovell and the dingy, disused classroom had faded from sight and in her mind Buffy had been thrown back to a different time...
A very different, and much much older, Travers spoke. '… if you pass the review... we will give you the information you need without reservation. Fail the review, either through incompetence or by resisting our recommendations...'
The memory faded, but not the feeling of anger.
"No," Her voice harsh, her magic rising in defiance.
They all looked at her, Walburga and Lovell with a smirk and Travers with a frown.
"No? I... Look here, that's the way it's always been done," Travers blustered.
Buffy smiled a dark and knowing smile. "A Slayer is everything. Without her, the Council is nothing. I don't care what you've read in your little handbooks, this is the way it's gonna be from now on. I make the rules, you just do the research."
"But the Council –."
"There is no Council. When Lily Moon broke the Slayer line –."
"Who's Lily Moon?" Travers flipped open a notebook, turning to a page that looked as if it contained a chronological list Slayers and began running his finger down it. "I don't have a Lily Moon listed here. Are you saying she destroyed the Slayer essence?"
It felt good knowing more than a Travers. "Lily Moon was born in 1754," Buffy recited. "She became a Slayer at sixteen while studying at Hogwarts and she broke the spell by dying of old age in the early 1900s" Buffy smirked. "No Slayer, so what use was the Council? And then there's me... You see, I'm not your average, ordinary Slayer, I'm..." She paused, seeking the right word –strange, was not the one she wanted. "I'm extraordinary. The girl who should not be. The girl who lived."
Travers had been shocked, he'd no idea why the line broke as his father had never told him. Then he'd –.
A stone rolled in the passageway behind her. She was being followed! Buffy shot a look over her shoulder at Spikey, who shrugged and transformed back into Caradoc.
"There's an opening on this level," she whispered. "We can go and hide out, and see who emerges." As soon as they left the passage opening, Buffy tugged Spikey into a run, dragging him along by his scarf to where a large pillar and statue were set at right angles.
"You need to disappear, Spikey," Buffy ordered, reassessing the spot. The hiding place she'd chosen was smaller than she'd thought.
The boggart pouted and made a kissy face, obviously thinking she could sit on his knee or something.
"Quit foolin' around. Go!" she hissed, sliding behind the pillar and crouching down. Thankfully, Spikey vanished and all she had to do was wait, peering through a small gap to the passageway entrance.
Her heart was thumping against her ribs and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Was it a coincidence that someone else was using the passageway at the same time as her? Would they continue past? Why hadn't she noticed their light behind her?
Something moved. An arm appeared, holding a grey severed hand, and then the head and shoulders of Tom Riddle, as he squeezed his larger frame through the gap.
Tom Riddle had a Hand of Glory?!
He must have bought it from Borgin and Burkes, but wait... She'd seen the price of those things. How had Tom afforded it? It was more likely he'd borrowed it from someone. She would have loved to ask him about it, except... she couldn't, as then he'd know she'd seen him with it.
Tom stopped, looking first one way and then the next. Undecided about which direction to take, he put away the Hand of Glory and drew something small out of his pocket. It was a ribbon – Buffy recognised it as one of hers – stirring in a phantom breeze before pointing in her direction.
Crap! Thatwas how he'd followed her! He'd used... What was it called? She wracked her brains for the name... Oh, yeah, Avenseguim! A Tracking Charm which depended on the caster having a personal item belonging to the person being tracked. Well... she wasn't going to let him do that again.
Stepping from her hiding place in his path, she twitched the fluttering ribbon out of his grasp before he had a chance to stop her. "Do you stalk all the girls, Tom? Or am I just that special to you?"
Colour flooded his cheeks and a tic played under his eye. Despite the embarrassment, he stepped closer, using his looming height to try and intimidate her. The edges of his lips curled downwards, his brows drawn together in a heavy frown. Buffy's eyes drifted from his face to where his wand pointed at her throat and raised her chin in defiance.
"You gonna hex me or poke me in the eye with that?"
Tom glared, his dark eyes reflecting red in the light of a nearby lit torch. "Where'sss Dearborn gone?" he asked, his voice thickened with emotion. "I know he'sss around here somewhere."
He actually thought Spikey was Caradoc! Buffy laughed. "He really isn't."
Tom ignored her, peering into the spot where she'd just hidden. "Don't lie to me. I saw him – canoodling with you." His anger caused his magic to crackle around him.
"I'm really not lying to you, Tom." Buffy folded her arms, her own magic swirling around her protectively, the inner Slayer part of her stretching and readying herself for danger. Would Tom try to hurt her? There was a madness in him tonight that she'd only seen once before – when they'd fought their assailants outside of Stockwell Town Hall.
Tom gazed into her eyes, his nostrils flaring before he shook himself. "We'll see if you are telling the truth."
He moved his wand in a complex pattern that Buffy didn't immediately recognise. " Homenum Revelio!"
The air glowed all down the corridor, and two portraits of old Wizards woke up and began to complain bitterly, but no human was revealed.
Buffy sighed. "See. I told you so. No Caradoc. My bet is on him being in his bed in the Gryffindor Tower and a bunch of witnesses saying he never left. Let's go straight there since you don't believe me. He'll be in bed..." she smiled, a devil of a thought making her add, "... dreaming of me."
"Twenty points from Slytherin!"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "I don't care about stupid Housepoints."
"Oh, you'll care," snarled Tom, his eyes flashing. "You'll care when I tell everyone that you lost all those points they worked so hard to get, and you'll care when Slughorn gives you a month of detention cleaning out charred cauldrons by hand."
He used his wand to point the way to the main stairs. "After you, Miss Summers," he said with frosty politeness.
…..
A/N 2;
Tom is spitting feathers here and it is all bad Spikey's fault! Who wants a pet boggart? :-)
Next we see Tom and Buffy arguing and things are going to get heated enough for the teachers to sit up and take note. Careful, Tom! You might just lose your shiny prefect badge.
Okay... I have started Joyce and Grindelwald's story. Two chapters so far and hardly anyone reading it :-(
It is called The Squib and although I am not great at linking, if you click on my name you will find it in my list of stories published.
Please go over, read, follow, fave and comment! It will make my day.