I feel like every time I post...which is NOT often enough...I'm apologizing for not posting more often. But...I AM sorry! Work has been rather hellish...I'm not sure how much longer I can actually do it...AND I've been ill. I'm not sure what's wrong with me...it's NOT Covid, but I'm freaking SICK! And I get zero down time from work. When I'm home, I rarely get out of my jammies, let alone my bed. I always have my laptop on, but I haven't been writing...I just keep falling asleep or start researching my vacation that's coming up in September and then fall asleep. I'd BETTER be well by then, damn it!

Holiday...September...British Isles cruise, leaving from Amsterdam, then going to Brussels, Edinburgh, Inverness, Kirkwall, Belfast, Cork, Dublin, Portland, and ending in Southhampton. I'm very excited, but the hoops you have to jump through to go on a cruise are INCREDIBLE! Not looking forward to those! Will have to perform a Covid test on the phone with a "professional" in order to be safe...then one before we get on the ship, then one before we can get off the ship. I get the safety precautions, but it's crazy. Same as our Mediterranean cruise last year. Safety, safety.

Chapter Twenty-eight
SHOPPING!

It seemed to take them forever inside Gringotts, but when they came out, they were loaded with coins—each woman grinning as they carried a large pouch of wizarding money.

"Coins are much heavier than notes," Sophie remarked, supporting it with a hand underneath, because it was that heavy!

Albus chuckled. "Indeed they are. I shall lighten it for you," he said, casting a spell to make their load less weighty.

"Hmm. That's mighty convenient...to have those wands," said Sophie as she pushed the pouch into her bag and glanced at her sister. "I say, there must be a spell for this. Something we're capable of casting."

Doing the same as her sister with the pouch, Vin nodded and looked around. "I'll look into it. Where did the children go to?" she remarked as she scanned the area. She knew they'd taken a long time, but now that they were back, she was ready to get some shopping done.

Albus frowned. He'd planned to spend a fair amount of time today with Buffy, but not all day—and it was already nearing noon. It had taken them much longer inside Gringotts than he'd intended. After exchanging their Muggle money for Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, the sisters had decided to open an account for Buffy—which required that they set up a regular transfer of money from their Muggle accounts to Buffy's new Gringotts account—so that she'd have a means to take care of anything she felt she needed for school. It was very kind of them, considering they hadn't know the girl until just recently.

And, after a bit of discussion, they surprised Albus by opening an account for Tom as well. This concerned him greatly, of course. Though he felt some guilt over having left the boy to his own devices all those years ago, he still did not trust him. And he didn't like that Buffy seemed to like him so much or that Vin and Sophie were going to freely hand over their money to him.

But what could he do—nothing!

Sophie looked around and frowned. "They must be around here somewhere. Maybe they came back and we were still inside, so they wandered off again."

Vin nodded. "It's a possibility. There are so many interesting shops to explore."

Albus also nodded. "We were inside for over an hour," he said, thinking about the lengthy process inside Gringotts. Then he saw a flash of blonde hair coming through the arch that lead to Knockturn Alley. Buffy had her arm looped through the dark-haired boy's and was carrying some sort of drink in her other hand.

Frowning at the thought that Tom had taken the girl there, on her first visit to Diagon Alley, no less—or ever!—Albus gestured and said, "There they are." He was very concerned and it was etched on his face. He felt the need to lecture the boy, but knew it would only cause the boy to withdraw from him further.

Vin and Sophie looked in the direction that Albus was pointing and sighed with relief—then started in their direction.

"Oh! So sorry it took so long," Sophie said as she reached the two teens. "It was busy in there and...well, we'll discuss it later."

Vin nodded. "We certainly will. Possibly over dinner."

Buffy nodded. "Okay."

"What were you two doing in Knockturn Alley?" Albus said directly, his eyes on Tom. "It is not a place for children." In the end, he couldn't help but ask.

Tom frowned. He knew they shouldn't have gone there when Dumbledore was with them—or at all, really—and had hoped they'd be able to get back to Diagon Alley before their professor knew where they'd been.

"We were just...taking a look," he said.

"Tom, I'm sure you've heard about the place. There are many dark magical shops down there. I don't think it was wise to take Buffy there," Dumbledore scolded.

"Of course, Sir," Tom said, giving the man a stiff nod. "It won't happen again."

Brow raised, Buffy looked between them. "Unless we want it to," she countered as she narrowed her eyes on the older man. "They have tasty drinks there, so...can't be all bad, dark, doom and gloom." She held up a glass mug of whatever she was drinking and frowned. "Took me forever to get them to put it in a cup I could take with me. It was like they'd never been asked for anything to go."

Sophie laughed. "They probably haven't."

"Well, we haggled for a bit, but then someone in the room suggested a spell. The glass will return on its own as soon as it's empty." She grinned slyly. "I might just leave a tiny bit in it, so it never disappears."

Vin shook her head. "You're such a naughty girl."

Buffy laughed. "It's just a cup! Besides, I didn't get why they were making a huge deal. Seemed like no big to me. We offered to pay for the cup, but noooo!"

Sophie chuckled.

"So anyway, that's what kept us," Buffy finished.

"Buffy," Dumbledore started. "Knockturn Alley is—"

"Oh! I'm quite aware now, thanks!" she interrupted, her eyes going to Vin and Sophie. "You should see some of the things they sell there. Shrunken heads that talk." She shuddered. "And there was this repulsive man trying to rent me a creature called a house-elf...to sweep our chimney. It didn't even have proper clothing on. The poor thing was nothing more than a slave!" she exclaimed—then looked back at Dumbledore. "But it wasn't Tom's fault we went there. It was totally my idea. I practically dragged him there. Honest."

"Buffy, you mustn't go there. It's dangerous," Dumbledore tried again.

Buffy snorted. "Danger shmanger!" she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I laugh in the face of danger. Hah! Because...you know, I'm the Slayer. And speaking of...I think I saw a vampire skulking around in there," she said, lowering her voice out of habit. "I'm not one hundred percent though. It felt like something was watching us, but...I only saw a shadow of it. I was going to go after it..." She glanced at Tom. "But...we went for butterbeer instead. Was that wrong?" she asked, her eyes on Vin and Sophie. "I feel like I should have followed it."

The sisters shrugged. "Edna wouldn't like it, that's for certain," Vin said.

"But we won't tell her if you won't," replied Sophie.

Buffy nodded. "Agreed," she said—then looked at Dumbledore. "Sorry Professor. I often get carried away with exploring the darkness. It often leads to eradicating evil, because, you know, it's my job, so..." She shrugged.

Dumbledore stared at her for a moment—then chuckled. He could not help himself. "You are one of kind, Miss Summers," he said with amusement.

"Too right, Albus," said Vin. "I believe we're not likely to meet another like her."

Sophie grinned. "And she has a point. I say, we leave her to her work and...try not to worry too much."

Vin snorted. "Try being the operative word there," she said.

Dumbledore looked between the sisters. He could see that they meant what they said. After all, they were far more aware than he of the Slayer's job. But he could also see that it did worry them. He'd not missed Sophie's try not to worry or the way Vin looked at the girl, as if she were her own child. He might just have to better acquaint himself with the duties of a slayer—for the protection of everyone at Hogwarts. It was going to be hard to rein Buffy in, he was sure of it.

"All right then, let us venture forth and purchase Buffy's supplies," Albus said after a moment. "You have your list?"

Nodding vigorously, Buffy produced the list of supplies. "I can get all of this here on Diagon Alley?" she asked.

"You certainly can," the man said with a smile. "Now, we'll start with your wand, because wands can be tricky."

"Tricky? What do you mean, tricky?" asked Buffy with concern, her eyes going to Tom.

But it was Dumbledore who responded. "Well, Ollivander has a relatively new way of selling his wands. It's possible you will have to try several before finding the one that's right for you."

Buffy frowned at the man, then looked at Tom again. "Maybe I could just...you know, use yours. I liked it and...I think it liked me. And you could get a new one," she suggested.

Tom shook his head. "It doesn't work like that, Buffy," he told her. "Don't worry. There will be one for you. You will see," he assured her.

"Wands are temperamental," explained Dumbledore. "It has to be exactly the right match."

"Exactly? What happens if it's not a match? How many will I have to try out? They're not going to zap me or something, if they don't like me, are they? Because, I wouldn't like that." She shook her head.

Sophie rolled her eyes. "For someone who runs around in the dead of night staking vampires, you seem quite nervous about acquiring a wand."

Tom snorted. "I won't be painful. And no, you absolutely cannot have mine."

Buffy pouted. She'd liked how Tom's wand felt in her hand and hoped that whatever wand she ended up with felt the same.

"Come now," Dumbledore said. "Ollivanders is right there."

Buffy turned and looked at the building that she'd examined earlier—the one with the single wand in the dirty window. It was a narrow and rather shabby-looking shop that didn't look at all inviting. But as they pushed the door open and entered, a tinkling bell rang out a cheerful welcome—and they were immediately greeted by a silvery-eyed man in perhaps his thirties.

"Good afternoon," the man said, giving them a warm smile. "Ahh. Good to see you again, Professor Dumbledore."

Albus nodded at the younger man. It hadn't quite been twenty years since Garrick Ollivander finished his schooling at Hogwarts, but they knew each other well. "Good afternoon, Garrick. I hope all is well?"

Mr Ollivander nodded. "Yes, yes. My wife is out with the children, so the morning has been peaceful," he said, his eyes going from his old professor to the two woman to the two teenagers. "Who have you brought me today?" he asked. "It's a bit early in the summer for school shopping."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it is. But Buffy is new to the area and...behind in her studies," he said, ignoring that the girl bristled at his wording. "So we thought it best to get her started as soon as possible and that means a wand."

Ollivander nodded, his eyes going to Tom Riddle. "Hmm. I remember you. Thirteen and half inches long, crafted from yew, and affixed with a phoenix feather core.

Tom eyed the man, but nodded. "Yes, sir," he said.

"And it's serving you well?"

"Of course, sir," Tom responded. "Quite well."

Ollivander hmm'd. "Good, good," he said as he turned toward Buffy. "Well, come forward, young lady. New to the area, eh? You're a bit old for a first wand. Did you break yours?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. I'm just...new," she said, not wanting to explain.

"Getting one's first wand is quite the big day in a witch or wizard's life. Very exciting. Let's get you started. Bunny, was it?"

The blonde huffed. "It's Buffy," she said, stepping toward the man, but wondering why no one seemed capable of remembering her name here. It just wasn't that hard. "Buffy Summers."

"Yes, of course," said Ollivander. "Now, we might have to make several attempts. They've told you this?"

Buffy nodded. "Yes."

"All right then, so you won't be disappointed when the first one isn't a match, because...they rarely are. And, it's the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way around."

Buffy frowned. "So they're like...alive then?" she asked.

Ollivander shrugged. "No, not quite alive, in the sense that humans are alive, but they are crafted from only a few select trees, those that can produce wand quality wood. Wands are highly magical objects through which you will channel your magical powers. After making a match, they are capable of learning from those who wield them and teaching them. I believe that they have almost human powers of perception and preferences."

"Oh. Hmm. Okay."

"Anyway, Miss Summers, shall we get started?" he asked as he pulled from his pocket a long tape measure with silver markings. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Oh. Umm. I'm right-handed, if that's what you're asking," Buffy answered.

Ollivander nodded. "Hold out your arm, young lady," he instructed—then proceeded to measure the girl from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round the head.

This caused Buffy to glance at Tom—who was watching with amusement. Why the man was measuring her head to fit a wand was beyond her, but it seemed that the process was normal to her friend.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Summers. We only use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons," he said, his eyes going to the professor. "Mind you, no two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another witch or wizard's wand."

Buffy nodded, fascinated by all of this. She didn't know what a phoenix was, but...unicorns and dragons?! She wasn't sure why she was surprised after all the things that Tom had already shown her in his books.

Frowning, because the tape measure seemed to be measuring things that just couldn't possibly have anything to do with wand-choosing, Buffy glanced at Vin and Sophie—they were watching with rapt attention— then at the proprietor of the shop.

"That will do," he said, snapping his fingers at the tape measure, then addressed the girl. "All right then, Miss Suppers. We'll start with this one. Rosewood and dragon heartstring. Ten and three quarter inches. Quite inflexible. Take it and give it a wave."

Glaring at the man for the name he'd called her, she took the wand from him and did what he said—but nothing happened.

"All right," he said, then handed her another. "That one's walnut and phoenix feather, and—"

WHOOSH!—all the lighting in the establishment went out.

"Umm. No, that's not right," the man said. Taking out his own wand, he relit the place, then took the wand back from Buffy and frowned. Then, glancing up at his shelves, Ollivander nodded, then rummaged around, then came out with another box. "Try this," he said, lifting the top. "Vine wood and dragon heartstring. Eleven inches. Very—"

Again he couldn't finish, because the wand in Buffy's started to vibrate—then it flew from her hand and violently stuck itself two inches into the far wall.

"All right then," the man said with a chuckle. "I guess not." Then, looking several boxes over, he smiled and glanced at the sisters. "Hmm. Sometimes families share traits. Might I see your wands?"

Sophie's eyes widened. "Oh! We don't have wands," she said, gesturing between herself and Vin.

Ollivander cocked his head at them and frowned. "You're both Muggles?"

Vin snorted. "Oh no, we are definitely witches, but...we have no use for wands."

Ollivander's eyes widened. "You've mastered wandless magic then," he said excitedly.

Vin and Sophie glanced at each other. "You could say that," they said in unison.

"Hmm. "That's fascinating. Such a rare ability. Might I have your surname?" he asked them.

"Fairweather," Vin responded.

Ollivander shrugged. "We've never had a Fairweather before. Not that I recall," he said with a frown. "Of course, I've only been running the shop for a decade, but I grew up here, watching and learning from my father and grandfather." He frowned and looked up at the ceiling, then sighed. "No matter." Turning, he pulled out another box and handed it to Buffy. "Try this one. Laurel with dragon heartstring. Nine and three quarter inches. Supple."

Smiling nervously, Buffy took the wandbox, but before she could even take the lid off, the box emitted a pulse of something unpleasant, causing her to instantly drop it. For a second she stared at the box on the ground, then turned and glared at Tom.

"You said it wouldn't be painful," she accused, shaking the hand that had been shocked and using her other hand to point at the box on the ground. "That was painful!"

Tom frowned. Everyone frowned. All eyes went to Ollivander.

"That's very odd. That has never happened to me before," he said.

Buffy harrumphed. "To you?! I'm the one who got zapped! I'd say it happened to me!"

Olliander ignored her. "We'll find one," he said—mostly to himself. "Let me just...look for another."

Huffing, Buffy crossed her arms. "I'm not sure I want to try another," she grumbled.

"Don't be silly, Buffy," said Vin. "You're going to need it for your classes."

"Yes, I need it like a hole in the head," she said. "Maybe I can just learn to do this like you guys...wandless."

Tom snorted. "Wandless magic is...not that simple, Buffy," he said. "You know Vin and Sophie are...different." He gave her a look.

Buffy made a face. Of course they were different. They were from different worlds that she'd somehow managed to link.

Turning, the wand-maker disappeared—but quickly returned. "Let us try this one. Red oak and dragon heartstring. Ten and a quarter inches. Nice and supple," he said as he opened the box and ginger pulled out the wand. "Grasp it firmly and give it a wave," the man instructed—then blanched when the girl did, because the front window exploded out onto the street.

"Oh, bugger and blast!" Mr Ollivander growled.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" Buffy exclaimed, her green eyes wide with surprise. "I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, not your fault at all, Miss Sumpters. It happens sometimes—wands can be extremely unpredictable. Must get the proper fit, otherwise everything's mucked up," the man tried to explain, then sighed and looked at the blown out window. "I should just board it up, it happens so often. But this sort of thing happens quite a bit more the week before school starts, with all the young people coming in to get wands for the first time." He chuckled at the memories of all the explosions over the years, then pulled out his own wand again and said, "Fenestra reparo!" and watched the window repair itself. "See, all fixed. Now," he went on as he took the destructive wand from Buffy.

Buffy was still glaring at him over her misspoken name, but was impressed by the window repair.

"Now, where were we? Ahh, yes," he said as he leaned down and pulled out several wandboxes, then gently lay them on the counter. "Pick a box."

Frowning at the craziness involved in finding one's wand, Buffy examined the boxes in front of her—they all looked about the same.—then pointed. "This one."

Ollivander grinned, then opened the box and set it down in front of her.

Leaning over the counter, Buffy peered down at what was in the box. It was pretty—covered in a vine-like pattern—but it did absolutely nothing for her when she carefully lifted it from the velvet-lined wandbox and gave it a wave.

"Well, that's better than the electric shock I got on that other one," Buffy griped.

"Humph!" the man said as he pointed back at the box, indicating that he wanted her to put it back. When Buffy had nestled it within, he closed the box with haste, then rapidly opened another. "Try... this one!"

And Buffy would have—tried the wand presented to her—but the wandbox immediately slid down the length of the counter and away from her reaching fingers. Everyone's eyes widened when she turned and slowly reached out again, only to see the box literally jump from the end of the counter to the top of one of the wand-maker's shelves.

"Umm. I don't think that one likes me," Buffy said, a frown etched into her forehead.

"Doesn't matter," Mr Ollivander said. "We've plenty more to try. An entire shop full. Let me see." He scratched his chin, appearing to think on it. For a moment he stared at the closed boxes he'd placed on the counter—then he snapped his fingers and rushed down an aisle, causing everyone standing there to lean to the side so that they could watch the man as he walked his fingers over several boxes. "Ah! I don't often combine woods, but... here! Maple, with a solid cherry handle, and unicorn hair. Ten and one quarter inches," he said as he lifted the box's lid and offered the wand to the girl. "Very good for charm work and Divination...and most spoken spells, I'm told. It's likely to keep you grounded and assist in level-headedness."

Buffy snorted. "I'd like a level-headed wand too," she remarked as she reluctantly reached out and picked it up. It sparked a little, but then the sparks died.

"I'm thinking no," she said.

"No would be correct," he said with a sigh. "When it's yours, you'll know it's yours."

Buffy looked at Tom. "I like yours. Are you sure I can't have it?"

"I'm not giving up my wand, Buffy," Tom told her, causing her to stick her tongue out at him.

Ollivander looked between the teenagers. "Let's try another!" he said, pulling out yet another wand—this one golden-toned. "Possessors of pear wands are, in my experience, usually quite popular and also well-respected," he said as he held it out to her. "Phoenix feather. Ten inches. Fairly bendy."

For a moment, Buffy stared at the wand, leery of what it could potentially do—then she sighed and took it. When no immediate reaction occurred, she frowned.

"Don't be shy, my dear, wave it a bit," the shop proprietor encouraged.

Buffy sighed again, then did what she was told—gasping when it suddenly began to rain heavily inside the shop.

Shrieking, Sophie looked around for a place to run and hide, but of course that was impossible when the entire room was storming as if they were in a rainforest.

Chuckling, Dumbledore calmly took the wand from Buffy's hand and placed it in its box—now full of rainwater—then pulled out his own wand, meaning to halt the torrential downpour.

Beside him though, Vin raised her hands and shouted, "Ego prohibere pluvial!"

Dumbledore stared at the woman—then smiled. "Impressive," he said, then vanished the water that had quickly become an inch deep in the room.

Mr Ollivander looked at the dark-haired woman. "Quite!" he exclaimed. "That was... extraordinary, Miss Fairweather!" He hadn't mentioned it, but he could admit, if only to himself, that he'd doubted her claim of wandless magic—as it was such a rare ability. But having now been witness to it, he was sufficiently satisfied.

Sophie huffed, her hair and clothing completely drenched. "I am not amused, Mr Ollivander."

Running a hand through his wet hair to get it off his face, Tom glanced at Buffy and had to resist the urge to smirk—she looked like a drowned rat and also appeared less than pleased.

"I'm not sure there's a wand here for me," she said quietly as she leaned to the side to squeeze out her dripping hair.

Ollivander's eyes went wide. "Nonsense!" he said. "There is a wand for every witch and wizard. It's here somewhere. We just have to find it."

Buffy frowned. "If you say so."

The wandmaker smiled, then went to the shelves on the opposite side of the shop. "I do, Miss Sutters, you'll see," he said as he brandished his wand and caused a massive wind to blow until everything in the room was dry again. When the wind ended, all three women were glaring something fierce. Their clothing was dry, but their hair looked dreadful.

Buffy glowered. Was her name truly so unforgettable?! Or were the people in this time just stupid?! She'd opened her mouth to verbalize her frustration, but felt a hand slip into hers. It was Tom's, of course, grounding her.

"Now, let me see..." Ollivander started. "How about this one. Willow and dragon heartstring. Eight inches. Nice and swishy."

Buffy blinked. "Willow? My best friend at home... her name is Willow," she said with a smile.

Ollivander's eyes widened. "Oh. That's something. Maybe you'll have an affinity."

Buffy shrugged, then reached out and took the wand and, feeling silly, waved it a bit—but Mr Ollivander quickly snatched it out of her hand and put it away.

"Nope! Much too small. How about this!" the man said. "Also willow, but with a phoenix feather. Nine inches. Swishy as well, but somewhat whippy."

Buffy tried—but she hardly raised the wand when it too was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no," the proprietor said as he dropped the wand in its box, closed it, and pulled out another. "Willow and unicorn hair. Ten and a half inches. Swishy. Willow is always swishy. Go on now, try it out," he said when Buffy didn't immediately take the proffered wand.

After a moment, Buffy tried the wand—and the next and the next and the next, but none of the wands would do anything for her. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was looking for as he searched his shop—almost in a frenzy now—but the stack of tried wands in their boxes was piling up and Buffy was beginning to think she'd have to leave without getting a wand—and that worried her because maybe she wasn't a witch after all.

And then they were joined by two others. One was a man that the wandmaker resembled so much so that Buffy knew they had to be related. His father, if she were to guess. And the other, a much much older man, Buffy decided had to be his grandfather.

"What have we here?" the oldest man exclaimed as he took in the state of the room—and the windswept hair of everyone present. "Was there some sort of storm down here?"

Garrick Ollivander huffed. "Yes, there was. Quite the storm," he said.

Hobbling completely into the room, the old man looked over their patrons, then smiled, his silvery eyes twinkling. "I hope my grandson is meeting your needs," he said.

"I'm not though," Garrick grumbled. "Professor Dumbledore, you remember my grandfather and father, I'm sure?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, yes of course," he said with a nod at the Ollivanders.

Garrick turned then and looked at the girl who needed to find a wand. "And this is Miss Summers," he said, presenting the girl to his family—surprising Buffy that he'd finally gotten her name correct. "She is here today to find a wand, but we are struggling."

"Yeah, none of them like me," Buffy added.

Garrick sighed. "It's not that. You're undeniably a tricky one, but...eventually we will find one that will choose you," he argued. "Miss Summers, this is my grandfather Gerbold Ollivander and my father Gervaise Ollivander. They are both retired now, but...perhaps we could use their expertise."

Buffy smiled at the men and shrugged. "Yeah. Whatever it takes."

Gerbold examined the girl, then looked at his grandson. "Garrick, your system will not always work for every customer."

"But Grandfather," he said frantically. "I've perfected it. Changed how it's done. My wands are the best."

Gerbold nodded. "This is true. Nearly everyone agrees. However, there will be exceptions in the process."

Gervaise Ollivander lay a hand on his son's arm. "Son, sometimes you must fall back on the old ways. Some customers require...more."

Garrick sighed. "Perhaps."

Gervaise then turned toward Buffy and smiled. "Tell me, young lady, what do you like?"

Buffy shrugged. "Oh. Lots of things and...nothing at all, I suppose," she said, giving a little laugh. "I like my friends back home. I miss them and all the things we used to do together. Mostly we'd just go to school together and hang out at the Bronze, but Willow and Xander are...the best. We've gone through a lot together in the last nine-ish months. And of course there was the library with Giles. Giles is...the librarian there and he has a lot of books."

Gerbold smiled. "You like books then?"

Buffy shrugged. "Hmm. No more than the average teenager, I guess. But Giles' books are...special," she said. "Especially useful for my...school work." She frowned—then cleared her throat. "Oh! And mom. I miss her sooo much!" Buffy bit her lip and looked at Vin and Sophie, wondering how much she could or should tell these three men.

"Buffy has lost a lot in less than a fortnight," Vin said.

"She's left her friends and family and country," Sophie added.

Gervaise Ollivander leaned in. "So you are new to London?"

Buffy nodded. "And new to magic."

Gervaise looked at his father, then back at the Buffy. "Interesting. You know...or perhaps you don't, since this is all new to you, but getting one's wand was different in our day," he said, gesturing between himself and his father. "Witches and wizards would often bring us a magical substance to which they were attached or had inherited. It might be something that had particular meaning to them or an item by which their family swore."

Gerbold Ollivander nodded. "And we would take the item and fashion a wand for them, encasing their treasured magical substance within their favorite wood. It was the way it was done for centuries. The only way until..." he trailed off.

"Then my Garrick created a better way and revolutionized the process of wandmaking," Gervaise Ollivander said proudly. "Many now believe that he is the finest maker of wands in the world. People travel to London to purchase one of his wands in preference to those on offer in their native lands."

Nodding his agreement, Gerbold smiled at the girl—then looked at his grandson. "But there will sometimes be cases where the new and improved does not work. In these cases we are be forced to adjust. Either try something new or revert to the old."

Sighing, Garrick nodded. "As much as I prefer my own methods, I cannot deny that they are not working for Miss Summers," he said.

Moving to sit on a stool, Gerbold studied the girl. "Tell us about your work," he said.

Buffy's eyes widened. "My work?"

The old man nodded. "Yes. You hesitated when you said school work and I suspect there's more to that."

Buffy sighed. "There is," she admitted, her eyes scanning the group.

"You can tell them, Buffy," Dumbledore said. "It might actually help."

Reaching up, Buffy took her silver cross in hand and held it. To those not in the know, it would appear that she might be praying, but she wasn't. After a moment she sighed and nodded. "Have you ever heard of the Slayer?" she asked the three strangers.

Two of the Ollivanders shook their heads—the third nodded. "I have heard a myth about slayers," Gerbold said.

Shaking her head, Buffy said, "I am she…Buffy, the Vampire Slayer."