Chapter 6

Wait! Buffy thought frantically.

What is it? the Sorting Hat replied impatiently. I really hope you're not going to tell me how to do my job because that's really not how it works.

No, no, nothing like that, Buffy replied. I was just wondering if you were going to put me in Slytherin.

Do you want to be in Slytherin? the Hat asked. It sounded annoyed. Buffy wondered if a hat could be annoyed. She supposed that, because it was infused with someone's personality, it could have emotions. It made her head hurt thinking about it, though.

Only if you think that's the best place for me, Buffy replied.

You're in luck, then, because it just so happens that I don't think Slytherin is the best place for you, the Hat replied. While you have some Slytherin qualities, they'd probably eat you alive. No, no, my dear, I think you're far better suited for GRYFFINDOR!

The Sorting Hat must have said the last word out loud, because a moment later the Hat was plucked from her head and stowed once again behind Dumbledore's desk. She chanced a glance at the two old men sitting in front of her. Dumbledore had a rather pleased expression on his face, although his smile was partially obscured by his beard and all Buffy could see were the crinkles on the outside corners of his eyes and the amused twinkle in their blue depths. Dippet looked somewhat surprised, his mouth hanging slightly open as he blinked a few times.

"Well, I think that went quite well, don't you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, yes it did," Dippet replied, shaking himself out of his stupor; it took Buffy all she had not to giggle at him. "I believe I'll leave the rest for you, Albus."

Dippet rose from his seat and, before heading to the fireplace, retrieved the Sorting Hat from behind Dumbledore's desk. In a flash of green fire, he was gone.

"So, was that what you expected?" Dumbledore asked when the flames were back to orange, red and yellow.

"To be honest, I expected the Hat to tell me I didn't belong her and that I should go before it ratted me out or something," Buffy replied with a shrug. "So, what's my cover story?"

"You are, as discussed, a sixth year Gryffindor student," Dumbledore began. He stroked his beard for a moment, looking thoughtful, before continuing. "I think, for simplicity's sake, that you should stick to as much of your own history as possible. While we can't really say anything about you being the Slayer, there are other things we can use. The reason you should give for you late entrance to school is that you were born on a mystical convergence and you didn't show up in our records until you took a family vacation to Scotland a short while ago. This convergence is also the reason why you can't contact your parents easily, and also why you are not able to go home for the holidays. As to why you're here instead of the Colonies, just say Hogwarts got to you first. I trust you won't have any problems remembering this?"

"Just call me Secret Identity Girl," Buffy chirped, glad that there wouldn't be a long, complex back story with fake parents and siblings to remember. She could be as vague as she wanted and not very many people would question it.

At least, that's what she hoped.

"As for you wand, I will be in contact with Mr. Ollivander this evening to see what the best course of action is," Dumbledore continued. "I think that, given the fact that most of his business is in August when the new first years come in to get their first wands, Mr. Ollivander will have no objections to coming up here for a couple of hours. He always did love the castle; I think he misses it sometimes."

"Sounds good to me," Buffy agreed. Despite her trepidation over learning magic, she was beginning to feel a little excited. It could be another weapon for her to use in her arsenal against the forces of darkness, after all.

"I trust that you will be able to find your way back to your room from here?" Dumbledore asked. "Normally after a student is Sorted they join their housemates, but I thought you'd appreciate the privacy for one more night. I also thought you might want your supplies before making a full integration into the school."

"Thank you," Buffy said gratefully.

"I will be in contact with you tomorrow to let you know what is going on with everything," Dumbledore said as he rose from his seat. Buffy followed suit and Dumbledore opened the office door for her. "Have a pleasant evening, Miss Summers."

"I'll do my best, Professor Dumbledore," Buffy replied with a small smile as she exited the office.

She was still smiling as she made her way back to her rooms; she was beginning to get a feel for the castle, and while she wasn't an expert at the layout yet she was confident that she would be able to make her way back to her room without getting lost.

At least, that's what she thought.

"Lost?" asked a voice from behind her. Buffy jumped and whirled around, not entirely surprised not to see Tom Riddle standing behind her. He was casually leaning against the wall, an amused smirk on his face.

"No, not at all," Buffy replied, feeling slightly uneasy. She'd never been completely alone in Tom Riddle's presence; she'd always had a buffer or something between her and him.

"Really? Because you're looking kind of lost," Tom remarked. He pushed himself off of the wall and sauntered over to where Buffy was standing. "Do you need a hand getting back to your room? I don't mind giving you a hand, it's on my rounds anyway."

"No, I think I'm okay," Buffy said, turning and leaving. As she walked away, Tom grabbed onto her arm, stopping her. She turned again, eyes narrowed. "Let me go, Riddle."

"It's not safe to be wandering the corridors alone at night," Tom said quietly, his eyes boring into hers. "There are… things… in this castle that are far too dangerous for a school to have, and yet they are here. Be careful."

"What kinds of things?" Buffy asked, slightly intrigued. She wasn't particularly scared; after all, she was still the Slayer, even though being at Hogwarts could be her chance to have a semi-normal, destiny-free life. Still, it was good to know about what lurked in the dark here, just in case she had to slay it.

"Did you hear about the girl who got killed in the second floor bathroom?" Tom asked. "The one that's haunted now?"

"Yes, Minerva told me about it," Buffy replied with a nod.

"Did McGonagall tell you what killed her?" Tom asked, arching an eyebrow. He still had not removed his hand.

"No," Buffy replied.

"It was a creature, brought into the castle by a student," Tom said. "A student that got expelled, but is still working for the school because a teacher or two felt bad for him."

Buffy's eyes widened; while she hadn't met a lot of people in the school, there couldn't have been very many that had gotten expelled but were kept on as maintenance staff because they had been pitied.

"Yes, it's your buddy Hagrid who let it in, and it killed a student," Tom said quietly. "You really need to be more careful as to who you hang around with."

"I think the only person I need to be careful around is you," Buffy said coolly. She glanced down at the hand that still gripped her arm. She grabbed the hand, squeezing it as hard as she could, infusing some of her Slayer strength into her grip. "I thought I told you to let me go?"

Tom released her arm, drawing his hand back as if he were burned. Buffy turned on her heel and stalked off without a backwards glance, the route clear in her mind.

"You are a very interesting young woman, Miss Summers," Tom said quietly, holding onto his aching hand. "A very interesting young woman indeed."

***

The next morning, Buffy stood in front of the mirror, nervously examining her reflection. She was dressed in the hideous uniform again, but the black, unaffiliated tie was replaced by a striped burgundy and gold one. Her grey knee socks were pulled up fully, straight and proper, and on her feet were the sensible Mary Jane shoes.

"Well, it's no naughty Catholic schoolgirl costume, but I guess it'll do," Buffy said with a sigh. She knew that she didn't have much of a choice, but it didn't mean she liked it that much.

"I still think you look like an angel," said the mirror, making a noise that sounded like a sigh.

"Oh shut up," Buffy grumbled, wishing that the mirrors in this dimension didn't talk. The mirror huffed, but didn't say anything else as Buffy turned away from her reflection.

She wasn't sure what the day would bring her; Dumbledore hadn't spoken to her the previous night after she had returned to her room, so she wasn't sure how they would select her wand or gather her books or anything like that. The uncertainty was making her feel uneasy; maybe this was all some weird, messed up dream, and she would wake up in some God-awful rat infested apartment in Los Angeles with a crappy job and no friends.

With that unpleasant thought planted in her mind, her fire glowed green as Dumbledore's face appeared with a pop. Buffy gasped and jumped, surprised.

"I'm sorry for startling you, my dear," he said with a smile. "I was wondering if you would like to pick out your wand now? Mr. Ollivander has been kind enough to come to the castle for a house call."

"Sounds like a plan," Buffy replied with a smile. "Give me a when and where and I'll be there."

"We can come down right now," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Ollivander arrived a short while ago and he would like to get this done as soon as possible. Seeing how long it can take for a wand to choose someone, I see no reason to delay."

"Fair enough," Buffy said, wondering what the process was to select a wand. Or, as Dumbledore had worded it, a wand to select her.

She wouldn't have to wait long because at that moment Dumbledore stepped out of her fireplace, dusting soot off of his robes.

"I'm really going to have to get used to that," Buffy said, surprised. She had seen Dippet appear from the fireplace in Dumbledore's office the night before, but it was still a surprising feat to see. Following Dumbledore was a considerably shorter man with slightly balding, white frizzy hair and curious, almost creepy sliver eyes. He was carrying what looked like an old doctor's bag.

"Miss Summers, I would like you to meet Mr. Ollivander, the finest wandmaker in Great Britain," Dumbledore said. "His family has been making wands for witches and wizards in this country since 382 B.C."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers," Mr. Ollivander said with a warm smile. "Let's see if we can find a match for you, hmm?"

"Alright, so what do I need to do?" Buffy asked.

"First, we need to take your measurements," Ollivander said as he reached into his bag and pulled out a tape measure. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed," Buffy replied. Ollivander gently held her by the wrist and moved her arm so that it was sticking out straight in front of her and parallel to the floor. He placed one end of the tape measure on her shoulder and unravelled it until it reached the tip of her middle finger.

"Each of my wands are made of either phoenix feather, unicorn tail hair or dragon heartstrings," Ollivander said, turning away from her to rummage around in his bag. The tape measure was still measuring Buffy all on its own, taking seemingly arbitrary measurements. "Each of the wand cores are given to me willingly and paired with wood of different varieties and lengths. There are no two wands that are exactly alike, and each wand is destined to be with a certain witch or wizard. As I like to say, the wand chooses the wizard. And I think that's enough for now."

Just then the tape measure fell to the ground, lifeless, having just before been measuring the distance between Buffy's knees. She knew it had to have been magic controlling the tape measure; she didn't sense and invisible person flitting around her, so that was the only explanation she was comfortable with.

"Now, give this one a try," Ollivander said, handing her a wand. "Applewood, dragon heartstring, nine and a quarter inches."

Buffy gave the wand a wave, and nothing happened. Ollivander snatched the wand out of her hand, replaced it in its box and reached into his bag for another.

"Not the applewood one, eh? Here, try this one," he said, handing her one made of a rich, dark wood. "Mahogany, ten inches, phoenix feather."

Buffy waved that one, and again, nothing happened. She did this numerous times; before too long, there were about a hundred boxes stacked on the couch, and there seemed to be an endless supply coming from the bag. Ollivander seemed to be getting more and more excited as the stack of wands got higher and higher.

"How did you fit all of these wands into the bag?" Buffy asked as she waved a yew wand, eight and a half inches and made with a unicorn hair.

"Magic, it's always magic," Ollivander said mysteriously. "I should have known you were an exceptional case when Dumbledore told me your story. Let me see if I don't have something a little more unique in stock, shall we?"

He dug around in the bag, reaching so far down into it that his entire arm disappeared into the bag. Buffy found this odd, as the bag was no more than a foot or so high and it was placed on a spindly table that rested a good three feet off the floor. Ollivander withdrew his arm from the bag, gingerly holding yet another long, narrow box. Buffy felt differently about this one; she felt almost drawn to it.

"While all of my wands are unique, I believe this one is far more special than the others," Ollivander began. He opened the box, and resting inside was a nine-inch wand made of a dark, rich color of wood. "I made this as part of an experiment, not really expecting anyone to actually be able to use it. It's nine inches, made of rosewood. If it picks you, I'll tell you what's in it."

Buffy gingerly took the wand; as soon as she did, she could feel it hum in her hand and grow warm. A stream of sparkles emitted from the tip, bathing the room in a slight red glow before dying down.

"Well, I'll be damned," Ollivander said in awe. "As I said, I never thought this one would actually pick anyone to be its wielder. Take care of this wand, Miss Summers; I would like to know how it works out for you."

"And what might be the core of this wand, Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore asked, his tone curious. Buffy was curious as well, but was too shocked that a wand had actually picked her to ask the question herself.

"Precisely three drops of vampire's blood," Ollivander replied. "Remarkable, isn't it?"

"What was this vampire's name?" Buffy asked. Now she was really curious, and she wouldn't let Ollivander leave until she knew.

"The last time I saw him, which was twenty years ago mind, he was going by the name of Angel," Ollivander replied.

***

Sorry, it's clichéd, but I couldn't resist. Reviews are wonderful; they keep me inspired. Until next time!