Authors note: Aha! You all thought I abandoned this! Well, I almost did, but then I got inspired again, so here you are, chapter 2 in all its long awaited glory. I was wonderfully surprised by the response of the first chapter and I can only hope that this meets everybody's expectations. The next three weeks are going to be crazy for me school wise, what with finals and everything, so I wont have a lot of time to write, but alas, I will try, so bear with me.
Side note: the timeline in this story is pretty fucked up. I don't know what I was thinking. I just didn't plan it out well, I suppose. Here's the deal. Buffy is sixteen. For some reason, Oz is already part of the gang. God knows why. Harry is going into his sixth year so Sirius is dead, but Dumbledore is very much alive. Any more questions, just let me know and I'll try to sort it all out. Without further ado, here you are. Enjoy like you enjoy chocolate, unless you're not a fan of chocolate, in which case, enjoy it like you enjoy something else you enjoy.
P.S. I stole the title for this chapter from the band The Streets. Check them out if you've never heard of them because they kick ass.Chapter 2
"Weak Become Heroes"
The miserable have no other medicine but only hope.
--William Shakespeare in Measure for Measure
Bergen, Norway May 6, 200012:50 PM
At first there was nothing.
This didn't really bother her. There had been a brief time upon waking up when she had been terrified, when she had screamed and cried and attempted to break down the door of the small cell she had found herself in, but that didn't last long. As soon as the memories kicked in, the fact that she was in a cold, dark, wet, stone dungeon became as unimportant as her geometry homework once was. Nobody came to see her. She wasn't given food or water. It was cold, maybe freezing. She could see her breath in the air. Off in the corner there was a constant drip of water coming from…somewhere. She wasn't sure where. Hell, she didn't care where. Most of the time she didn't even hear it. All she heard was His voice telling her that her mother was—
No.
Don't think about that.
Mustn't think about that.
In the morning, her mother used to make her pancakes. She would try to make them look like things—stars and Christmas trees and hearts—and she would always laugh when they came out wrong. Then they'd sit and eat and her mother would kiss her on the cheek and tell her that one day she would make them perfectly. Buffy would always roll her eyes. Perfect pancakes would probably be boring.
Sometimes she would pace the length of the cell. Slayers weren't meant to be enclosed in small areas. She was pretty sure she had read that somewhere. A part of her thought that this would go on forever, that they would simply forget her and she would live out the rest of her existence in this little tomb. Strangely, this didn't bother her either. There were worse things in life.
There were days when she cried. She didn't know why. Everything was fine. Her mother had told her that she would always be there for her and her mother never lied.
She tried to forget that the body had been really cold.
She never thought about the fact that the eyes had been lifeless.
When she cried, she only knew because the tears on her skin were hot.
Where was Giles? Hadn't he told her he would always be there for her? Where were Willow and Xander? She couldn't be sure, but…she was pretty sure she needed them right now.
Giles, I'm sixteen years old. I don't want to die.
Sixteen seemed much older now.
Any ways, for a while there had been nothing and then…then there was a lot of screaming. Sometimes she realized it was coming from her own mouth. But then, she was pretty sure anybody would have screamed. The pain was, after all, agonizing.
Scotland, England
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
July 17, 2000
10:40 AM
Her first reaction was to run out of the room.
Eyelids fluttering open, gaze warily taking in her unknown surroundings, she felt her muscles tense immediately. Around her, people were speaking in a flurry of hushed whispers. Occasionally somebody's voice would rise to a level deemed inappropriate and the others would hush their colleague immediately. A couple months ago Buffy might have rolled her eyes and explained to them the wonders of Slayer hearing, but a month ago was not today and today Buffy simply closed her eyes and pretended to still be asleep, all the while carefully listening to every word that came out of their mouths.
Giles would have been so proud.
"Well I think it's fairly clear that Dumbledore should not have brought her into the school."
A woman cleared her throat. "I'm sure Dumbledore had his reasons for—
"We don't even know who she is," a man hissed.
"Is that really important? She was with You Know Who…"
A silence, so thick Buffy felt sure she could reach out and run her fingers through it.
Finally, somebody said very quietly, "She can't be more than sixteen-years-old."
This seemed to make the others tense up and without saying much, they all filed out of the room. Clearly they hadn't learned what she had. Age was unimportant, relative and transitory. Sixteen could very easily be thirty with the right life experiences.
For the next hour or so she concentrated on making her breathing as regular as possible. Somebody kept coming in and out of the room, muttering nonsensical things under her breath and replacing what felt like a cool rag on Buffy's forehead. Buffy wasn't quite ready to find out where she had ended up after her flight in the woods, or how she had survived a two hundred foot drop off a cliff. All she knew was that she was in no pain and for right now, that was enough to keep her quiet and still for quite some time.
But then, things never really went the way she wanted them to.
Another presence entered the room. Her ears strained to follow his footsteps as he walked over to her bed and pulled up a chair beside her, brushing a lock of long (when was the last time she had cut it?) blonde hair out of her eyes. Buffy forced herself not to flinch.
"And how is our patient doing?" the man beside her asked, presumably to whomever else was in the room. His voice was kind. Buffy relaxed slightly.
"No change as far as I can see," a woman said. "She's still running a bit of a temperature, but she's getting better."
"And the slash on her stomach?" he said after a brief pause.
"All healed. I used some of the Sundew leaves from the Herbology classroom and they patched her up right nice," the woman said, seemingly proud of her forthrightness and quick thinking.
"Excellent," the man murmured. For a moment it was quiet and then, "Madam Pomfrey, if you don't mind terribly, may I request a minute alone with the girl?"
Buffy couldn't stop herself from tensing. She hoped he hadn't been looking at her. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey didn't seem too enthused about this suggestion either. "But Dumbledore, she needs –
"Just one minute, Poppy."
And with that Buffy was left alone with the stranger. Trying not to panic, Buffy waited for the inevitable. She was not disappointed.
"I must say, Miss Summers, tracking you down was not easy."
Resigning herself to her fate, she opened her eyes very slowly, blinking rapidly at the bright light, not even questioning how exactly he had known she was awake when not even her caretaker had. She was too tired to care. Upon examination, she quickly discovered she was in a room with a number of empty cots. Beside her, a man with a very long white beard and small spectacles sat, looking at her with kind, wise eyes.
"I'm only sorry I couldn't get to you sooner. You must understand, we tried everything we could think of, but, well, Voldemort kept you very well hidden." She hated that she flinched at the name and that all her blood ran cold, but she did and it did and she only hoped whoever this man sitting next to her was either wouldn't notice or wouldn't comment.
Following a long pause, curiosity got the better of her and after clearing her throat, she managed to get out of a mouth that felt as dry as cotton, "Who are you?"
The man smiled slightly and handed her a glass of water, which she accepted greedily. "Forgive me. I forget that I know so much about you, yet you know next to nothing about me. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am Headmaster at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, your current location. Your watcher, Rupert Giles, is an old friend of mine. He contacted me shortly after your disappearance."
"Giles? Is he…?"
"Here? No. He's back in California, guarding the Hellmouth in your absence. We've sent him notice of your return though so I'm sure we'll here from him shortly," Dumbledore told her.
Buffy nodded and for a moment, the two just stared at each other, both seemingly unsure of how to proceed. Finally, Dumbledore said, "Miss Summers –
-- Buffy is fine."
He smiled. "Of course." Then, growing serious, he said, "Buffy, our world, one I know you only have an elementary understanding of, is facing a terrible war and you, you seem to have been pulled into it and for that, I am deeply, deeply sorry. For reasons I myself do not fully understand, Voldemort has taken a particular interest in you. What transpired between the two of you over the month he held you in his captivity is something I cannot even begin to fathom…"
She was shaking. She hated that she was shaking, but she suddenly couldn't control her limbs. "He—he wanted…" She trailed off, blinking rapidly against the tears that invaded her eyes.
Dumbledore put a soothing hand on her shoulder. "I'm not asking you to give me any answers, not yet. I understand that you need some time and I will be more than happy to give it to you."
Relieved, Buffy relaxed. "Then what do you…?"
"It's not safe for you to go home right now," Dumbledore continued gently. "Voldemort will realize that you did not in fact plummet to your death when you jumped off the cliff and will no doubt come looking for you. Our priority is to keep you safe and Sunnydale is no longer safe for you."
Buffy snorted. "Sunnydale isn't safe for anybody."
A ghost of a smile appeared on Dumbledore's face, but he seemed weary and resigned. "No, I suppose you're right. We've taken the liberty of relocating your friends, temporarily of course. They're safe and happy and should that happiness be disrupted, we'll move them again. The only connection you now have in Sunnydale is Mr. Giles and once the Watcher's Council can find a suitable replacement, he'll be moved as well. Buffy, you must understand, we made a grave mistake in not protecting you from this and we will make sure that situation is remedied."
"You're about a month and a half too late," Buffy said softly and angrily, thinking of lifeless eyes and a cold body.
Dumbledore looked down at this admission, contrite and truly sorry.
"I was sorry to hear about your mother."
"And my father," Buffy interrupted. At his surprised look she elaborated. "What, you didn't get the memo? He wasn't put under protection, my own father? How funny. The first time I had seen dear old dad in almost a year and he has ridges on his eyes and fangs coming out of his mouth. Do you know what it's like to be forced to kill your own father, to push a wooden stake through his heart and watch him turn to dust?"
"No, I don't. I'm sorry, Miss Summers."
"Buffy."
"Yes, quite right, sorry."
"It's all bygones by now, right? I mean, what's done is done. Mush mush. I live to see another day – I'm assuming I have you to thank for that."
"Yes, I created the portal which transported you here…"
Buffy nodded. "I thought so. Thanks a big one."
Dumbledore, looking at her with something akin to compassion, bowed his head in acknowledgement of her sarcastic gratitude. Silent for a moment, he watched her with bright blue eyes. "I want very much to help you and I believe that if you stayed here, you may find the education you receive very helpful in the coming months."
"You want me to stay in Hogwhatever and, what, go to school here?" Buffy exclaimed incredulously.
Dumbledore looked at her seriously. "Buffy, Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he is more commonly known, never took failure lightly. I have no doubt that he will continue to come after you until he has…accomplished…what he set out to. You are not safe. Your friends are not safe. What I am offering you is another means to protect yourself and those you love, a means that will ensure that the next time you meet, you will be better prepared to face him."
"By learning magic."
"Yes, by learning magic. In addition, I think you'll find Hogwarts a very therapeutic place to reside."
Buffy let out a long sigh. "What does Giles think about this?"
"Mr. Giles has the greatest respect for our institution. He thinks that you'll do very well here. Buffy, I cannot and would not force you to do anything you do not wish to, but I strongly suggest at least entertaining the idea."
Buffy felt her resolve crumbling. Here was man offering her protection – safety. What a foreign concept. When was the last time she had truly felt safe? Before she had been called? Before her parents started fighting?
Finally, she said, "I hate that this is happening."
Dumbledore nodded. "As do I, Miss Summers."
"He killed my parents."
"I know."
"He tortured me for hours at a time."
"I'm sorry."
Then, eyes on her bedspread and so quietly he had to strain his ears to hear, "I don't know if I can survive this."
"Miss Summers, you are one of the most extraordinary girls I have ever encountered. I have no doubt that you will survive this. And please remember, you are not alone."
Buffy nodded slowly, but if there was one thing she had learned over the past month it was that Slayers couldn't have friends or family. It only led to death.
"I'm tired," she finally said.
Dumbledore gave her one last long look and then rose quickly. "Of course. I'll leave you to get some rest. Please think about what I've said."
"Sure."
And with that, he left her alone with her thoughts. As she lay staring at the white ceiling, trying desperately not to think, she felt whatever hold she had had on her emotions crumble. With extreme frustration, she felt her eyes fill with tears. She wanted Giles. She wanted Willow and Xander and Oz. She wanted her bed and Mr. Gordo and –
Her mom. She wanted her mom to tell her that everything was going to be okay. She wanted her dad to hug her and tell her that there was no such thing as evil wizards bent on world domination. Her world was falling apart at her feet and she was completely powerless to stop it. And so she did the only thing she could – she cried. And cried. She cried herself into a dreamless sleep, dreading tomorrow and fighting against the ache that had crept into her chest.
Age was relative. Buffy Summers knew that to be a certainty. She was sixteen going on seventy and far from naïve.
This was, she knew, only the beginning.
And things were only going to get worse.
Many, many miles away, one Mr. Harry Potter, known around the wizard world as The Boy Who Lived, awoke with a start. His scar throbbing angrily for the first time in many months, he warily climbed out of bed and retrieved a parchment from his chest. Dipping a quill in a fresh pot of ink, he began to write in messy scrawl his latest vision.
"A girl, with very long, blonde hair is falling through the sky when suddenly a portal opens up and she falls right through it, disappearing. On top of a cliff, Voldemort is angry, angrier than I have ever seen him. He says very coldly. "Bravo, Elizabeth."
Bravo, indeed.
To be continued…
Well, that's it for now. Hope it met your expectations. Please review because it makes me feel special and it will probably convince me to keep going with this