A/N;
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Chapter 6.
DUMBLEDORE
The first week after sending Dumbledore the letter, Joyce was on tenterhooks in case an owl came when her husband was still home. On the second week, she didn't need to worry as much – Hank had gone on a business trip. She spent two days watching the skies, then wrapped Buffy into a pink crocheted shawl and left. If Dumbledore was ignoring her first letter, then she'd send him another. And this one would be less vague and she'd use the name Grindelwald to see if she could get a reaction.
She took the two trams to Charing Cross road without incident. It was while walking towards the Leaky Cauldron that she spotted a man on the opposite side of the road and suddenly began to feel uneasy. The man was leant against a tram sign and doing nothing more sinister than looking at a newspaper and yet the feeling of unease was there. Joyce stopped at the small bookshop in the row and pretended to look in the window while checking out the man's reflection in the glass.
He was middle-aged and wearing a long brown overcoat with a trilby pulled down over his eyes. Was that to shade his eyes from the sun or was he trying to hide his face? The newspaper he held open was a Muggle one, yet he seemed more interested in the faces of those passing by than reading it. Was he really a bored Muggle waiting for the next tram? Or had he been sent by Grindelwald to keep watch on the Leaky Cauldron? If so, who was he looking for? Her?
Joyce's heart hammered inside her chest and her grip on Buffy unconsciously tightened. Buffy woke and whimpered.
"Shush, honey." Joyce jiggled the child, trying to soothe her. Should she go straight back home? Or would that look more suspicious? Other women and children must come this way all the time, perhaps he wouldn't notice her. It could even be a case of her just being paranoid and him being an innocent Muggle waiting for a tram. The only way she'd know was if he followed her into the pub.
Decision made, Joyce continued on. She opened the door of the Leaky Cauldron to find only a few regulars inside. A few glanced up from their drink when she walked past. Joyce took no notice of them, only pausing to look back when she reached the door to the ladies' loos. She checked the position of the pub's front door and entered the ladies'. Once inside, she pushed the door until it was almost shut and then pressed her eye to the gap. Would the man follow her into the pub?
Seconds ticked past, Buffy moved in her arms – becoming bored or hungry – and then the door of the pub opened. Joyce's heart dropped and leapt back again when she realised it wasn't the man she'd been looking for. Two men entered the pub, a tall, jovial-looking Auror with his much smaller friend.
"Tom!" called the Auror going straight to the bar. "Where are ya? Hurry up, lad, and serve us. We've got a real thirst on us and only have thirty minutes of drinking time to go at!"
Joyce kept her eye pressed to the gap. Why hadn't the watcher come inside Was it her? Was she paranoid about Grindelwald? Joyce bit the inside of her cheek, another thought occurring to her. What if his job was to remain outside, watch and then follow her home? That would make sense.
"Excuse me?" a woman's cultured voice called from behind her. "Are you alright?"
Joyce jumped, banging her forehead on the door. Sheepishly, she turned to see who'd caught her spying through the door. It seemed a woman had come out of a cubicle and was regarding her with a puzzled expression. Joyce took in her fashionable three-piece grey suit, her shocking red lipstick and the way she'd set her little hat at a jaunty angle on immaculately styled hair. It made her feel underdressed, frumpy and in need of a hairdressing appointment.
"You were stood there a while," the woman continued, her eyes raking over Joyce's red face and tracking down to the baby she held. When Joyce didn't immediately answer, she asked again, "Are you ill? Your face looks flushed."
"No! I'm not ill! I was waiting for a man..."
The woman raised a judgemental eyebrow.
"Not like that!" She swallowed, took a deep breath and began to explain. "I saw him lurking in the street outside and... I came in here to hide. I was worried in case he followed me."
The dark-haired woman grimaced. "He sounds awful. Did he threaten you?"
Joyce shook her head, feeling foolish. "Oh, no. He didn't do anything like that. He might even be a Muggle –."
"Oh, those! Muggle men are the worst?" The woman's scarlet lips curled in distaste. "They are so pushy. The Ministry should put them in their place, instead, they'd rather complain to us when we use magic to defend ourselves."
Buffy stirred and looked up at the woman sleepily.
"Oh! What a delightful child." She reached out to brush Buffy's cheek with a single gloved finger. Her eyes raised to Joyce's face, and a smirk played across her lips. "Does she take after her father?"
Joyce's proud smile died and she gave the woman a dark look. "Actually, everyone says she looks like me." Buffy was nothing like him!
"If you say..." The woman shrugged as if bored. "Are you intending to use the loo? Those cubicles are so small. I don't mind holding her while you go in." And she reached out – as if to take Buffy.
Joyce jerked her daughter away. "No!"
Buffy screamed. The noise startled the Witch and caused her to take a step back. Joyce took advantage of the distraction by yanking open the door and scuttling into the pub lounge. Not wanting to turn her back on the witch, she backed away until she walked into a chair.
"Where are you going, Joyce?" The woman was smirking. "I won't hurt your child."
If she had a wand, Joyce knew she'd have draw it. Unfortunately, she didn't and all she could do was back around the chair and shout, "Don't come closer!" She reached behind her with one hand, navigating the row of chairs by touch. "Go away! You're scaring Buffy!"
"Don't be silly. Come to your Aunt Rosier, Buffy." And the Witch rushed at Joyce, her wand drawn.
Buffy screamed at the top of her lungs and everyone in the pub looked over. Joyce darted away, putting the table in between her and Rosier.
"Oi!" yelled, Tom from the bar. "Are yer alright, Missis?" He opened the bar flap and stomped over to the two women and glared at Rosier who tried to hide her wand. "What's going on?"
Joyce pointed at the Witch. "She wants to take my daughter from me!"
Rosier flashed Tom a smile. "I'm sorry about all this, Tom. I merely offered to hold my friend's baby while she used the loo. Joyce hasn't been well recently. She keeps having panic attacks. Perhaps I should escort her to St Mungo's?"
"What?!" Joyce exclaimed, panicking. What if Tom thought she was mental and told her to leave with Rosier? "I don't know you. I've never seen you before today." She thought fast – that name, Rosier? The Rosiers were Purebloods with connections to Grindelwald. She must have been sent to snatch Buffy. Joyce stepped even further away from the woman and tried to soothe her crying daughter.
A fake smile was pasted on Rosier's face. "Joyce! How can you say that? I'm Vinda and we've known each other for over a year. We met at a party in Paris. You were there with friends and we chatted about the floral displays. We have a lot of mutual friends. Friends who want to reunite with you as soon as possible..."
Frightened, Joyce shook her head. "No. I don't know you. Please, go away." Her eyes sought and found the Auror who'd come into the pub after her: he stood by a wall nearby, watching them intently.
Rosier turned her head and spotted the Auror. She hurriedly turned back to Joyce. "Sorry. I mistook you for someone else." Without another word, she walked off towards the entrance to Diagon Alley.
Once she'd gone from sight, Tom scratched at his head. "We get all sorts in here, but that was a bloody, strange woman."
He reddened and said something which Joyce didn't catch as she'd slumped into a chair, her ears buzzing and feeling faint. She'd known something like that would happen. Why hadn't Dumbledore replied to her letter? If that Auror hadn't been here...
"Are you alright?" Tom asked. "You've gone a funny colour."
Joyce blanched and shook her head. "I don't feel well," she replied. Her heart wouldn't stop racing and she felt like throwing up. That had been so close. "Can I have a drink? Something strong?"
"Firewhisky," replied Tom, firmly. "You drink Firewhisky when you've had a shock."
Joyce nodded. Most of the pub had gone back to minding their own business now that Buffy had stopped screaming. The Auror and his friend had taken a seat nearby and from the size of the meal they had in front of them, they'd be there longer than half an hour.
"I need to eat," Joyce said. When was the last time she'd eaten a proper meal? It had to be before Hank left. No wonder she felt faint.
"Want me to bring you a menu or what about today's special? Mum's made a right nice steak and kidney pie." Tom said. One of the regulars banged his empty glass down on the bar, wanting to be served and Tom shouted, "Alright, alright. I'll be with you in a minute." Lowering his voice, he asked Joyce if she needed anything for the baby?
She shook her head. "No, just the firewhisky and the pie, please."
While waiting for her food, Joyce picked up one of the newspapers from the pile left behind by the pub's patrons. She almost dropped it when Grindelwald's face smirked up at her from the front page.
"Merlin's beard! What now?"
"He's gone and murdered a lot of Aurors in some cemetery in France!" The elderly waitress slammed her heavily-laden tray down on Joyce's table and then put a plate of steak and kidney pie in front of Joyce.
"They say Grindelwald has foreseen another one of them Muggle wars. He showed those at his rally the bombs and tanks and everything exploding. One of the reporters says it looked as if they were trying to destroy the world." The elderly waitress wiped a hand over the front of her apron, leaving behind dark steaks of gravy. "After trying to kill all the Aurors, he set fire to Paris with Fiendfyre."
"What happened?" Joyce asked. She had friends in Paris, Muggle friends. What had they made of it? She'd seen nothing in the Muggle papers.
The waitress hooked another paper from the pile. "See. It says here, it was Nicholas Flamel who saved the day. If he hadn't been there, everyone in Paris there would have died."
"Why would Grindelwald want to burn Parist?" Joyce asked. The Grindelwald she'd met had seemed more reasonable. He'd spoken of living in harmony and said nothing about destroying cities.
The witch shrugged. "The Muggles call the place the City of Love... Maybe, he had a bad love affair while he was there." She picked up her tray. "Let's hope he's not right about the Muggle war." Another customer called and she scuttled away to save them.
Lunchtime in the Leaky Cauldron meant the place got busy. Ministry of Magic and Diagon workers came in, some stopping to eat and others passing through to the other cafes in the alleys. The tables around her filled up with diners and Joyce kept her eye out for anyone suspicious while feeding Buffy. Once her daughter had eaten her fill, Joyce ate and scoured the newspapers reports for news of Grindelwald. She could hear a group at the next table also discussing him.
"You'd think Dumbledore would have done more," snapped one Auror. He held today's copy of the Daily Prophet and was reading one from an inside page.
Joyce concentrated on rocking Buffy to sleep – the little girl was fighting to stay awake, too aware of being in a strange place.
Another Auror snorted. "Heard they placed a Restriction Order on him."
Joyce stopped rocking and stared down at her empty plate. Was that why Dumbledore hadn't replied?
A third Auror said, "I heard it's because he and Grindelwald are like that."
Joyce didn't dare look over and see what gesture he was making. She guessed he meant the two of them were close. She hoped not. Dumbledore was the only one who could help her, she felt sure of it.
"That's what I heard too." An older man added. "They say he's sloped off with his tail between his legs to Mold-On-The-Wold. He's rented a cottage there for the summer. And we all know what happened with his dad when they lived there, don't we?"
"No. What?"
Joyce glanced up in time to see the oldest Auror tap the side of his nose. "Never you mind. Time for work, you lazy sods. C'mon." The Aurors got up to leave, throwing down napkins and tips for the waitress.
Buffy opened her eyes and stared hard at Joyce. "Don't worry. We can home soon."
If Dumbledore was staying at Mould-On-The-Wold, why send him another letter? She'd heard of the village before and was certain there were enough magical folk living there to warrant a floo connection. A plan formed in her mind, she walked to the bar and beckoned the young bartender over. "Tom, do you know where in Mould-On-The-Wold I can floo to?"
"Hold on, we've got a map."
Joyce shuffled Buffy in her arms while she waited. Buffy wasn't a large child by any means, but after carrying her for so long, her arms ached. She supposed she really ought to use that awful pram more.
"Here we are." Tom laid the map down on the counter. "You can floo to The Golden Fleece. It's a pub in the village."
Thanking him. Joyce paid a sickle for the floo powder, took a pinch from the jar, threw it into the fire and stepped inside. "The Golden Fleece."
Green flames flared and Buffy screamed as they were both compressed into the thin tube of the floo system. Joyce closed her eyes and hardened her heart to her daughter's fright. After a few seconds, she landed on her feet inside a large soot-blackened inglenook. This must be the Golden Fleece! Dipping her head under the blackened oak beam, she stepped out and flicked a lump of soot off Buffy's blanket. Buffy was now gurgling happily and reaching back towards the fire, wanting to go into the floo system again.
"You're a strange child," Joyce admonished with a soft, doting smile. "You're really brave, honey. It had me scared me for years."
Was it because Buffy had magic and she didn't? But then, she remembered that her brother had never liked the floo either as a child. She sighed. It must just be Buffy, being Buffy.
The Golden Fleece was virtually deserted despite it being lunchtime. Only two men were in there – a fat bartender gaping at her as if he'd never seen a stranger before and an elderly Wizard smoking a clay pipe with a cream and brown crup at his feet. The little terrier showed its teeth and growled at Joyce until Buffy waved her tiny fist at it. It quickly withdrew beneath the man's chair and didn't come out again.
"Hello," said Joyce to the old Wizard, relieved the dog had backed off. Crups sensed those without magic and could be aggressive to them. "Do you know the cottage Professor Dumbledore has rented for the summer?"
The old wizard removed his clay pipe. "Aye." He went back to staring into the fire.
"Can you give me directions to it, please?" Joyce asked carefully. She knew elderly Wizards could become awkward as they aged.
"I could," said the Wizard infuriatingly.
"You just ignore Magnus. That's his idea of having fun, baiting strangers. Dumbledore's taken a cottage in The Lane," called over the bartender. "Took the old Pratt place, he has. Not that there's been a Pratt living there since me granddaddy's time."
"Pratts have been gone longer than that," contradicted the old Wizard scowling at them both. "And Dumbledore's in the cottage that was his parents lived. Not the Pratt's."
"It's the Pratt's!"
"No, it isn't!"
"I'm telling you, it's the Pratts. Dumbledore's old house was two doors down."
Joyce walked off for the door unnoticed. Outside, a group of children played tag on the small village green, and a flock of white fat ducks waddled over to a muddy pond. Joyce drew in a deep breath of fresh country air, thinking how peaceful the village was. If Buffy hadn't been the daughter of a dangerous Wizard, she'd have liked to live and raise her child in a place like this.
She skirted around the green until she came to a row of cottages and an opening between them. The road sign declared it to be 'The Lane' and she turned into it. All she had to do now was find Dumbledore's house. She walked on, passing rows and rows of higgledy-piggledy stone cottages that gradually gave way to detached homes with larger gardens. She took her time studying those as she passed, searching for a sign one might be a magical residence.
At one, she stopped by a gate with peeling green paint and stared hard at the plant growing next to the thatched porch. A dirigible plum was growing, its small hard fruits waiting for the sun to ripen them. This had to be a Wizard's home. Was it Dumbledore's? She put her hand on the gate – getting ready to unlock it and push it open – when the door of the cottage opened and a shadowy figure moved inside. Joyce waited, knowing not all Wizards were friendly to strangers and not wanting to be hexed for trespassing.
A man stepped out inside the porch, his reddish hair and beard were neatly trimmed and he wore a brown pullover over the top of a checked shirt and tweed trousers. Joyce shivered: all her previous determination to find Albus Dumbledore draining from her as she faced the famous Wizard.
He folded his arms and glared at her. "What do you want?"
"I..." It came out as a hoarse whisper, and Buffy swivelled to look up into Joyce's face solemnly. What was she thinking? Her daughter's future was at stake. Clearing her throat, she began again, "I'm looking for you."
His jaw jutted out. "Do I know you?" He said it was said in a 'go away' voice.
"No. You don't know me. I'm... Mrs Joyce Summers. I was a Lovegood before I married a Muggle."
He cocked his head at that, silently appraising her. Joyce pushed open the gate and began walking towards him along the overgrown brick pathway. She had an almost overwhelming urge to turn and run away from him. Was that because of the wards on the cottage? Or was it because Dumbledore was intimidating and she was plain scared? Joyce kept going. She was scared. She'd need to tell him who Buffy's father was and that scared her. She was scared he'd say he wouldn't help her. She was scared Grindelwald would come and kill her and Hank and take Buffy. She was sick of being scared all the time. Scared and alone. A nettle scraped against her ankle, stinging it and then a stray prickly bramble stem snared her shoe. She stopped, using her fingers to free herself from the snare of sharp thorns and continued on to where the man waited.
"I sent you a letter asking for help." There were tears on her cheeks now and she brushed them away – determined not to break. She could do this. She'd do it for Buffy. "Why didn't you answer me?" she asked.
Dumbledore studied her gravelly, his eyes going to Buffy's worried little face. "What a curious child," he said, making Joyce frown. "What did your letter say?" I'm afraid I don't recall getting it, but then I've had a lot to deal with this last couple of weeks."
"It said... there was an innocent..." Joyce looked down at Buffy and what fragile control she had over her emotions broke. Great sobs wracked her body and her throat constricted so she couldn't say more. She was so exhausted from trying to be strong, smiling at Hank every day pretending nothing wrong and lying awake worrying about Grindelwald coming for Buffy every night. Today she'd nearly lost her. She didn't have much time... she stumbled, falling sideways and Dumbledore caught her.
Strong hands kept her upright. "Come inside, Joyce. I hope you don't mind me calling you that? Call me Albus. We can be two friends having tea together while we solve your problem. Come in, come in..."
Inside, Dumbledore led Joyce into a small beamed sitting room that had a small fire crackling in the grate despite it being summer. On a nearby table, a tea tray was in readiness and Joyce was surprised to see two teacups on the tray. Did he have company? Too late, she remembered the Auror talking of Dumbledore's closeness to Grindelwald. She stopped, suddenly afraid, her eyes darting around the room and then peering at the little spiral stairway next to the chimney. "You aren't alone!"
"I am." Dumbledore took a seat in one of the two armchairs drawn up to the fire. "Do sit down. Earlier, I had a feeling that I might have a visitor so I put out an extra cup. I didn't expect you, of course, I was expecting it to be an old friend."
"Grindelwald?" Joyce covered her mouth, shocked that she'd asked him outright.
Dumbledore's blue eyes grew cold and he raised an eyebrow. "Ah. You've heard the rumours. Once the pair of us were close, but we had a disagreement and... Let's say things happened back then that I don't wish to talk about, to you, or anyone." He peered at her face and what he saw there made him pale. "You are here because of Gellert. He's frightened you somehow."
Joyce noted it wasn't phrased as a question. Had he read her mind?
He gestured again for her to take a seat and poured the tea. "You've come a long way to see me. If you don't tell me what the problem is, I won't be able to help."
Joyce put Buffy on the floor. The small child lay happily on the rug, rolling over and smiling at Dumbledore as he passed a cup and saucer over to Joyce. Smiling back at her, Dumbledore took out his wand and transfigured one of the ornaments from a nearby shelf into a toy dove. The small bird flew over Buffy and she reached out, summoning the toy to her.
Dumbledore's brow raised and he nodded with approval. "She has magic."
"I know. That's part of the problem." Joyce took a sip from her cup and then placed it onto the table beside her. She had to tell him, better to do it now while she had an ounce of courage left. "Buffy is Grindelwald's daughter."
The Wizard's gaze shot to her child's face. Then he sat back into his armchair, shaking his head. "No. It can't be. Gellert isn't interested in..." He broke off and gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry, but to have a daughter he'd need to... I find it hard to believe that you and he..."
"Had sex in an elevator," she said flatly.
Dumbledore's eyes widened, his cheeks reddened, and he took a large gulp from his cup. Blushing as well, Joyce also picked her cup back up and drank. Happy to look anywhere rather than at Dumbledore.
"Do you think I'm proud of what happened that evening?" she asked finally. "I love Buffy, more than anyone in this world, but do you think I wanted him as her father?"
He peered at her and the slowness of his response annoyed her. "I don't! I'm a Squib married to a Muggle. Do you think Gellert is going to allow a Squib and a Muggle to bring up his magical child in a Muggle community?"
They both looked over at Buffy, who'd stuck the head of the dove into her mouth and was trying to pull it off. Joyce took it from her. "Don't do that, sweetie."
"She is really Gellert's daughter?" Dumbledore asked.
Joyce nodded. "She is and he's already made one attempt to take her. A woman called Rosier tired to take Buffy when I was in the Leaky Cauldron. Luckily, Buffy started screaming and drew an Auror's attention."
She bit her lip. "I'm a Squib. There's no way I can fight them off and I don't want my brother to know..." Peregrine would help her, she knew that, but there was no way they could win against Grindelwald.
"While in there I heard someone saying you'd taken this cottage and came here to see if you'd help me."
"He'd use her," Dumbledore whispered hoarsely. "Gellert would use her. That's what he does." All the self-assurance he'd had when he'd answered the door to her had vanished. Now he was pale and there were shadows beneath his eyes. "He'd raise her to hate Muggles and then use her in his war against them."
"I know." Joyce bent over, picked Buffy up, and cuddled her. "When I first met him, I thought he wasn't like what people had said, but now..." She thought of the newspaper reports and all the deaths that had occurred. "How can I stop him, Albus? I don't want a future filled with violence for Buffy. Is there a way you could stop him?"
Dumbledore's head dropped and he examined something he held in his hands. Finally, after what seemed an eternity were Joyce was sure he'd say no, he looked up and met her eye. "I am unable to stand directly against him." He lifted up a silver necklace and showed her the pendent – two drops of liquid circled around each other inside a crystal. "This is what we created together. It is a young man's magic, but no less powerful because of it."
Joyce stared at the swirling drops. "Is it blood? Blood magic?" She knew Blood magic was one of the most powerful forms of magic in the world and most civilised countries had imposed strict controls over its use.
"Exactly that. I cannot stand directly against him, but it does allow me to protect others – to a certain extent." He put the necklace away and took out his wand again, this time to summon two clean cups. "I don't know about you, Joyce, but I believe I need more tea. Tell me your story again, this time from the beginning. If I know all that happened that night, I might see a way of helping you and your daughter."
So Joyce explained how she'd gone to a party with friends (she didn't mention their names and Albus didn't ask), how she'd no idea there was a speaker there until Grindelwald appeared, and lastly, she told him of her meeting with Grindelwald.
"It sounds as if he laced your champagne with something," Dumbledore replied shrewdly. "A modified Love Potion perhaps."
Joyce knew he was being polite when he called it a 'Love' Potion. "After we.. afterwards, he said he wouldn't abandon me and that a Grindelwald always protects what is theirs. Do you think he foresaw a child from our... union?" Joyce asked.
"I know Gellert can see slices of the future. If he saw a child – and I'm sure that took him by surprise – then he'd take all the necessary steps to ensure the event occurred."
She nodded, that made sense and eased her sense of guilt. "What happened between us felt nothing like love. I was happy to do what he suggested, but it all felt like... a kind of madness."
Thankfully, Dumbledore seemed to understand what she was trying to say. Staring into the fire, he replied, "Grindelwald has immense charisma. When you're with him – really with him – it feels as if nothing else in the world matters other than you and he. You start behaving oddly and the next thing you know you..." He drew in a deep breath and let it out again, seemingly shaking himself from memories. "You aren't the first to fall under his thrall, Joyce, and I'd say Grindelwald had the help of a potion or two, to make sure his plan worked."
Joyce's gaze went to where Buffy now slept on the sofa. Whatever Grindelwald's plan had been, she was determined not to let him take her innocent daughter. Just thinking of him raising her with the help of the Rosier woman, made her shudder. "He isn't having Buffy!" She took a sip of tea trying to calm her nerves – her hands trembled as she held the cup. "I'll die if that's what it takes that to protect her. "
"And what about your husband?" Dumbledore asked. "Have you told him about this?"
Joyce told him. How Hank knew nothing about magic, and she wanted to keep it that way. That as far as he knew, he was Buffy's father. She explained that she'd genuinely thought he was the father until she saw the gold Grindelwald had put in her Gringotts vault.
"Ah, likely the Grindelwalds' have a family tree of some kind," mused Dumbledore thoughtfully. "It was never a conversation that we had when I knew him, but it wouldn't surprise me. Pureblood families like the Grindelwalds like to keep track of their offspring, the official ones and the unofficial ones. You know, if he did officially recognised her, Buffy will be the heiress to a large fortune and a bloodline that stretches back over a thousand years."
"I don't want a violent future for her. I don't want him having anything to do with her, Albus."
"I am in complete agreement. That would be a very bad thing to happen," Dumbledore soothed. He stood up, feeling around on the high mantelpiece and took down a small paper bag. "Fancy a Lemondrop?"
Bemused, Joyce shook her head and watched as Dumbledore popped one into his mouth and sucked on the sticky sweet.
"Gellert gave me a necklace," she said, suddenly remembering the Deathly Hallows pendant. "He gave it me after... after the episode in the lift and said it would bring me luck. Do you think it could be Charmed? I've never worn it."
"Most likely, yes." Dumbledore crunched the sweet. "He'd have given it to you for a reason. Most likely it would have a Tracking Charm attached to it. Since it isn't working and he's seeking you by other means, I'd say it only works when the recipient wears it. It will be no great difficulty to nullify it. I just wish protecting Buffy was as easily done."
"Is there a way to permanently keep him away?" Buffy slept on, and Joyce reached over to stroke her daughter's golden hair. "I wish you could see how brave Buffy already is. She doesn't deserve this."
"Ah, a little Gryffindor." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "There is only one way that I can think of. If there is one thing in this world that Grindelwald despises – it is those without magic. If his family tree showed her to be without magic, he'd disown her. Is that something you'd be prepared to do?"
"Take her magic from her? You can do that?" Joyce blinked at him. That was unexpected. Could she do that to her own daughter? Could she deny Buffy her magical heritage? She'd lost out on so much being a Squib in her family. Joyce wouldn't wish that life on anyone... except... what choice did she have? And it wasn't as if Buffy was going to grow up in the magical world. Buffy would be brought up as a Muggle and know nothing about magic.
Dumbledore nodded. "Not exactly take her magic. It is a Binding Charm that switches off her magical core for good. Long ago, when I was Flamel's apprentice I came across it in an old book. I'm pleased to say, very few know of this Charm and it is best to remain that way. In this situation, however, it might be the very thing to use."
"Is it painful?" Buffy was the last person in the world Joyce wanted to hurt.
"If Buffy had a fully developed magical core, I'd say yes. For one as young as she?" He shook his head, slowly. "I don't believe so."
"And Buffy will be a Squib – like me? With no outward sign of magic?"
Dumbledore had stood up and was looking down at the peacefully sleeping child. "Exactly that. If all works out well, this will keep her safe from Gellert for the rest of her life."
Joyce nodded. "Do it then. Do it as soon as possible."
"Don't you need time to think about this, Joyce? It's a big decision to make."
Joyce squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "They almost took her today, Albus. If it stops him from getting her, better that it's done straight away."
…
Buffy's story continues in 'Death Is Buffy's Next Great Adventure'.
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