Chapter 45

Achingly slow, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry rose their first morning after the holidays. The first school day of a brand-new year. And while all of the girls in the fifth-year dormitory of the Gryffindor Tower had left for breakfast, one strayed behind just a little longer. And with a very good aesthetic reason.

Neville stood patiently in the common room. His bag slung over his shoulder, looking at his feet, waiting for a girl who seemed to be taking her sweet time. He had just shifted from one foot to another when he noticed the sudden decrease in noise and all of the attention shifting in one direction. Looking to his housemates, he found some of them wide-eyed and slack jawed. Cormac McLaggen's lollipop had even fallen out of his mouth and to the floor without his notice or care. Was Neville missing something again? Barely returned and already he was out of the loop. But what did poor, little Neville Longbottom really expect. Adjusting the shoulder strap of his bag, Neville looked toward the stairs. Where everyone else had been staring, and soon, his very own mouth dropped open in surprise.

Her silky hair was flipped in to frame her face as it shined golden underneath the room lights. Her eyes, which were large and lovely before, were now a notable sparkle of green. No longer covered under cloaks and coats, she showed a little more of her figure. The form-fitting jumper and knee-length skirt that made up her uniform was tailored to perfection. And it wasn't just her physical appearance, she somehow seemed to glow from the inside out. A shining light that had entered the room.

"Hey, Neville," Buffy beamed.

And had spotlighted her way to the last person, a girl who looked the way Buffy did, would go. Or so the people in the common room believed, but what did they know.

Neville was currently stuck on blank; all he could do was stare as he tried to form words. Looking very much like a gaped fish. Was this really the same girl he had befriended just a few months ago?

"You ready to go?" Buffy asked with a genuine smile to show that she was really glad to see him. She waited for him to say something but all she got was a slow, unconnected nod. Still the same dear, sweet, one-of-a-kind Neville.

Neville stumbled slightly as he followed Buffy out of the room. His mind still trying to adjust to what he was seeing. And as soon as the portrait shut behind the two, the excitable talk began. Was that girl really Buffy Summers?

The stares didn't stop when the portrait closed. All the way down the long steps and towards the Great Hall were looks being pulled to them like magnets, and if Buffy noticed she didn't say. But all the heavy attention was uncomfortable to Neville. Who wasn't used to any looks beside exasperated ones.

"Th-they're all l-looking at you," he whispered.

She was beautiful. She always had been, he knew that, but now…what if she suddenly became too beautiful to be his friend. What if this apparently new Buffy Summers decided that she couldn't hang around someone like him? What if she left him behind? She was the first honest friend he'd had and now –

"Maybe it's the hair," she said, shrugging her shoulders carelessly.

And the anxiousness escaped him like air out of a balloon.

That uncaring and simple attitude gave him relief. She may be all shiny and new on the outside, but inside she was the same old Buffy. His same old Buffy and Neville knew right then and there that he had nothing to worry about.

Buffy knew the kind of reactions she was receiving, she may be blonde, but she wasn't oblivious. She knew more about her surroundings than anybody. Calculating every look and whisper without trying. It was in her Slayer genes to be aware. But the many glances weren't a surprise. The Buffy that had left three weeks ago despised attention and would've blended into her surroundings as much as possible, hide away in empty rooms and baggy clothing, and the Buffy that had returned didn't care. She wasn't aiming to be the center of attention. She was aiming to be her confident self. Her old self. To not let others step all over her or define who she was. She wasn't going to take anything laying down. And if that garnered more than enough attention that was their problem and definitely not hers.

But of course, that didn't mean she didn't feel a little jittery as she stood in front of the large double doors that would re-present her to rest of the school like a debutante making her transformational debut into society.

Buffy watched with anxious eyes as Neville pulled open the oak door. The bustling noise seeping through the crack that kept getting wider with each nanosecond. Taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves, Buffy walked past the opening and into the Great Hall. And a lot of the noise slowly quieted down.

The light in the vast room played against her features. The shining gold of her hair. The sparkle of color on her eyes and lips. The bronze of her skin. An invisible spotlight had once again found its way to Buffy Summers, and she tried her best to calm the rattle of her nerves.

Fred and George's forks clattered to the table. Ron's spoon-full of cereal lay frozen in his mouth. Harry choked on his scrambled eggs. And Draco forgot the rest of his sentence.

Mostly every eye, mainly male, followed her as she moved down the Gryffindor table to her seat, and now that Neville was no longer feeling insecure, he seemed to find the whole scene rather funny. Even biting his lip to keep from laughing. People seemed to be easily impressed these days.

Once Buffy had sat, did the quiet begin to rise to whispers. But they were ignored by the subject of conversation as Neville and Buffy began eating their breakfasts like nothing had changed.

"How…h-how…" Ginny struggled to say beside her.

"How what?" Buffy asked, pouring milk into her glass.

"How come you didn't teach me to do all that?" she asked, no longer amazed by the makeover, but wondering why Buffy wouldn't teach her to do the same.

"Because you don't need it."

"You're going to keep telling me that aren't you?" she pouted.

"Yep."

"You look so different," Susie said, awed.

"It's the hair," Neville said from across the table, he and Buffy smiling at the very little inside joke.

"Good different or bad different?" Buffy asked.

"Definitely good different."

"So does that mean I looked bad before?" Buffy teased.

"What? Oh, n-no, that's not – I-I mean, you were pretty before, and I was just –"

"I was kidding, Susie," she grinned.

"Hello!" Fred and George came greeting enthusiastically. Fred immediately squeezing himself in between Ginny and Buffy, causing Ginny to shout a 'hey!' when her brother forced her to move aside. While George lowered himself behind the bench on Buffy's other side, not having the heart to push sweet, little Susie Lore back from her seat.

"I'm sorry but I don't think we've met."

"It would be a shame for us not to know each other, wouldn't it?"

"A lovely young lady like you."

"Such strapping young men like ourselves."

"Should get acquainted."

"It's only right."

"Oh, geez," Ginny mumbled, causing Buffy's smile to widen even further.

"I'm Gred and his Forge," Fred continued, ignoring Ginny.

"No, no you've got it backwards," said George.

"Oh, right, he's Gred and I'm Forge."

Susie giggled, and Neville laughed a little himself. And taking that as a cue, the Twins felt the need to push on.

"If there is anything you need."

"Anything at all."

"A hand."

"A leg."

"An elbow."

"Don't hesitate to ask."

"Well, except for the heart."

"Why not the heart?" Buffy asked, curiously.

"Because you already have it."

"Oh god," she groaned, even when she couldn't help the smile and snort.

"Can you believe those two?" Hermione said, watching and listening to the exchange down the table.

Harry and Ron didn't respond as they too were watching, but their attention only seemed to be directed at one person in particular. Which irked Hermione when she noticed their line of sight. It's like they've never seen a girl before. It was just a little makeup, better fitted clothes, and doing something to her hair. It wasn't that big of a deal.

"Boys," she huffed.

The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. Everyone gathered their items and began to clear out. Some of the boys at the Gryffindor table, not so slyly, taking a little longer than the girls.

"May we escort you to your next class?" George said, both he and Fred holding out the crook of their elbows.

"Sorry, boys, but I already have an escort," she replied, stepping over the bench.

"Who?"

Buffy looked over to Neville as she placed her schoolbag over her shoulder.

"Always the lucky one aren't you, Longbottom?" said Fred, to which Neville couldn't help but blush just a little.

"See you guys later," Buffy bade, making her way to the door, and causing many teen males to look as she passed.

Neville joined her seamlessly at the end of the table. The pair just making their way to the doors when Luna appeared beside them.

"Hey, Luna," Buffy cheerfully greeted as Neville smiled his hello.

"Hello," she replied in her dreamy voice.

"How was your vacation?"

"It was very relaxing, thank you. How was yours?"

"Relaxing here, too."

"That's good. And how was yours, Neville?"

"I-it was good."

Luna let her eyes linger on Neville for a moment, making the boy uncomfortably nervous, before she slowly moved them to Buffy.

"You're feeling better," she said, didn't ask.

"What?"

"I think that's wonderful," she continued on, despite Buffy's question. "I'm very glad for you. You should be happy. You can't always please everyone."

Uh…huh? Neville and Buffy looked at each other completely confused.

"Have a good day," said Luna, smiled and disappeared into the crowd.

They watched her go and then shook their heads. Chocking the whole thing up to Lunaism and headed to History of Magic as they shared descriptives of their holiday loot and news.

Hushed voices and curious stares trailed their path once again. But they were promptly ignored because things had changed. Buffy didn't shy away from them, and Neville didn't pretend they weren't there to protect Buffy's feelings. Now, it was all just because they really and honestly didn't care.

"Hi."

As Buffy reached her desk, she turned to meet the owner of the sudden voice behind her.

"Hi," she smiled.

Who was none other than Theodore Nott.

"Good holiday?" he asked.

"Very. You?"

"Can't complain."

"Right, 'cause that would entitle more than one word and that would throw off your whole mystery persona," she teased.

Theodore smiled – a rarity for him. Which boded well for Buffy and her crushing.

"Just look at her," Pansy seethed. Her hawk-eyes watching them.

Buffy was leaning against her desk facing Theodore, who was standing before her. Very closely. Very comfortably. Very irritating to more than one person.

"She's just throwing herself at him," she continued. "How shameless can she get? She comes back looking like she just stepped off the Hawaiian Islands and she –"

"Pansy. Quiet," Draco growled beside her. His eyes on the friendly little pair. A little too friendly in his opinion.

He ignored Pansy when she turned her hurt expression to him. His silver eyes narrowed at Theodore and Buffy. Since when had they become so chatty?

"I thought he didn't talk to anyone," Hermione said, the Trio sitting at the front of the class and also watching the pair.

"I'm guessing Buffy doesn't qualify as just anyone," commented Ron.

"Guess not," Harry mumbled.

But did they have to stand so close? Harry's eyes hadn't moved since he saw Theodore make his way to Buffy's desk. Surprised he didn't trip over something as he moved to his own seat without seeing the way. She was smiling too much, and Harry frowned. Theodore couldn't be that funny.

Class was called to order by Professor Binns, and wayward students began to shuffle to their seats. Buffy and Theodore included. Much to the delight of two individuals.

The 'hour and a half that wouldn't end' lived up to its name. By the time the bell had rung for break, more than half the class had taken a little morning nap. It's not like the professor was going to notice or complain. And as everyone began to file out, Buffy and Neville stayed right where they were. Pulling out more books from their bags.

"Hey," Theodore said as he stopped by their desk once again.

"Hey," Buffy replied, while Neville kept his attention on his book.

"You're staying in for break?"

Draco lingered by the doorway, with a very annoyed Pansy who refused to leave his side. His eyes unashamedly staring in Buffy and Theodore's direction as he tried to listen to their conversation.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione passed by the two, their steps slower as they too were nosing in on the conversation. But a person can only go so slow without being detected, so all they caught were a few straying words.

"…back and get my studying done," said Buffy.

"You would need all the help you could get," he mocked.

"Hey, I'll have you know that my studying has greatly improved."

"You're welcome."

You're welcome? What did he mean your – crash-and-a-miss.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione tore their eyes away from Buffy and Theodore when they realized they were just about to crash into Draco and Pansy, who were still in the doorway.

If looks could burn, Draco and Harry would be bursting into flames.

Neither one of them said a word. There was no mocking, insults, or threats to leave the other one in the infirmary for days to come, because before they had a chance, a tinkling burst of giggles brought them out of their stares.

Everyone turned to Buffy, her laughter still spilling gleefully out, with Theodore smiling widely beside her. Curiosity spun in all of them. Envy and anger burst into two. And suspicion and distrust burned brightly in one.

Ron scowled deeply. First Draco and now Theodore. Buffy was sure chummy with the people who belonged to the most conniving, underhanded house at Hogwarts. She was building her own case against her. Draco. Theodore. Umbridge. No matter how long she had been gone, or how much people claimed that she had changed, or what house the Sorting Hat had put her into now, Ron knew one thing for a fact.

Once a Slytherin. Always a Slytherin.


Harry spent most of the day dreading the evening. His morning double-Potions lesson did nothing to dispel his trepidation, as Snape was as unpleasant as ever. Theodore and Buffy seemed to talk every chance they got, and his mood was further lowered by the D.A. members constantly approaching him in the corridors between classes, asking hopefully if there would be a meeting that night. But of course, there was not, because Harry had his very own meeting to attend, his private lesson with Snape – oh, joy.

On the bright side of things, he had a date with Cho on their next trip to Hogsmeade visit which happened to fall on Valentine's Day. However, by six o'clock that evening even the glow of having successfully asked out Cho could not lighten the ominous feelings that intensified with every step Harry took towards Snape's office. He paused outside the door when he reached it, wishing he were almost anywhere else, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked and entered.

Legilimency is the ability, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of victims and to interpret their findings correctly. Eye contact is often essential. Occlumency is a branch of magic that seals the mind against that magical intrusion and influence. However, the usual rules of these two spells did not seem to apply to Harry, because why would they? That would make him slightly normal, and we can't have that can we.

The curse that failed to kill Harry seemed to have forged some kind of connection between himself and Voldemort. Evidence suggested that at times, when Harry's mind was most relaxed and vulnerable, when sleeping for instance, Harry may be sharing Voldemort's thoughts and emotions. Dumbledore, having become aware of this, thought it advisable for Snape to teach Harry how to close his mind against Voldemort; despite the fact that the connection had become useful in the past, seeing the attack on Mr. Weasley for example.

But Snape had pointed out, "The important point is that the Dark Lord is now aware that you are gaining access to his thoughts and feelings. He has also deduced that the process is likely to work in reverse; that is to say, he has realized that he might be able to access your thoughts and feelings in return."

"And he might try and make me do things?" asked Harry. "Sir?" he added hurriedly.

"He might," said Snape, sounding cold and unconcerned. "Which brings us back to Occlumency…"

Snape explained what he was about to do, and he struck before Harry was ready, before he had even begun to summon any force of resistance. The office swam in front of his eyes and vanished; image after image was racing through his mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded him to his surroundings. He was five, watching Dudley riding a new red bicycle, and his heart was bursting with jealousy…he was nine, and Ripper the bulldog was chasing him up a tree and the Dursleys were laughing below on the lawn…he was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and it was telling him he would do well in Slytherin…Hermione was lying in the hospital wing, her face covered with thick black hair…Buffy was unconscious on the ground in the Chamber of Secrets…a hundred Dementors were closing in on him beside the dark lake…Cho Chang was drawing nearer to him under the mistletoe…

And so it went. Every time Snape commanded 'Legilimens!' he would access Harry's mind, his thoughts, his memories, and Harry would extricate him as soon as possible, but what he wasn't doing was blocking Snape's access to start with.

"Get up!" said Snape sharply at Harry, who had fallen to the floor after another invasion. "Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort. You are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!"

Harry stood up again.

"I – am – making – an – effort," he said through clenched teeth.

"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!"

"Yeah? Well, I'm finding that hard at the moment," Harry snarled.

"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!" said Snape savagely. "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily – weak people, in other words – they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!"

"I am not weak," said Harry in a low voice, fury now pumping through him so that he thought he might attack Snape in a moment.

"Then prove it! Master yourself!" spat Snape. "Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens!"

He was running along a windowless passage with Mr. Weasley…they were drawing nearer to the plain black door at the end of the corridor…Harry expected to go through it…but Mr. Weasley led him off to the left, down a flight of stone steps…

"I KNOW! I KNOW!" Harry shouted.

He was on all fours again on Snape's office floor, his scar was prickling unpleasantly, but the voice that had just issued from his mouth was triumphant. He pushed himself up again to find Snape staring at him, his wand raised. It looked as though, this time, Snape had lifted the spell before Harry had even tried to fight back.

"What happened then, Potter?" he asked, eyeing Harry intently.

"I saw – I remembered," Harry panted. "I've just realized…"

"Realized what?" asked Snape sharply.

Harry did not answer at once; he was still savoring the moment of blinding realization as he rubbed his forehead. He had been dreaming about a windowless corridor ending in a locked door for months, without once realizing that it was a real place. Now, seeing the memory again, he knew that all along he had been dreaming about the corridor down which he had run with Mr. Weasley on the twelfth of August as they hurried to the courtrooms in the Ministry; it was the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries and Mr. Weasley had been there the night that he had been attacked by Voldemort's snake.

"What's in the Department of Mysteries?" asked Harry.

"What did you say?" Snape asked quietly and Harry saw, with deep satisfaction, that Snape was unnerved.

"I said, what's in the Department of Mysteries, sir?"

"And why," said Snape slowly, "would you ask such a thing?"

"Because" said Harry, watching Snape's face closely, "that corridor I've just seen – I've been dreaming about it for months – I've just recognized it – it leads to the Department of Mysteries…and I think Voldemort wants something from –"

"I have told you not to say the Dark Lord's name!"

They glared at each other. Harry's scar seared again, but he did not care. Snape looked agitated; but when he spoke again, he sounded as though he was trying to appear cool and unconcerned.

"There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, few of which you would understand and none of which concern you. Do I make myself plain?"

"Yes," Harry said, still rubbing his prickling scar, which was becoming more painful.

"I want you back here same time on Wednesday. We will continue work then."

"Fine," said Harry, desperate to get out of Snape's office.

"You are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep; empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand?"

"Yes," said Harry, who was barely listening.

"And be warned, Potter…I shall know if you have not practiced."

"Right," Harry mumbled. He picked up his schoolbag, swung it over his shoulder and hurried towards the office door. As he opened it, he glanced back at Snape, who had his back to Harry and was scooping his own thoughts out of the Pensieve with the tip of his wand and replacing them carefully inside his own head. Harry left without another word, closing the door carefully behind him, his scar still throbbing painfully.


A/N: Posted this later than I had originally planned as life got a little busy and the chapters are getting longer so it's taking a lot more time to review, but I'm still heading towards that finish line.

Also, I might've been a little heavy handed with the descriptions and people's reactions to Buffy's 'makeover', I originally leaned very much into the ugly-duckling-beautiful-swan trope after being heavily influenced by all movie/tv/book transformations, so I'm hoping the cringe wasn't too bad – sorry about that.