Chapter 6
"Nothing."
"And by nothing you mean…"
"I mean exactly that. Not in any volume, text, o-or subtext – there is no mention of anyone – or more precisely, anything, returning from the Veil of Death. It simply hasn't been done."
"Or if it has, nobody thought to write it down."
"Or that."
Buffy broke off a piece of biscuit and placed it in her mouth. She sat facing the back of Giles's couch, legs tucked underneath her, arms resting atop the seat. He had called her earlier that afternoon so she could stop by his flat and reveal his lack of information. He had requested all the details of the event: the rope tying, the jumping, the vague description she gave of her chat with Sirius while on the other side, and of how she and Sirius returned. And even with all of that, Giles could not find an answer as to how the pair were able to come back from the Veil.
"So, the books Dumbledore sent over were a bust?"
Giles leaned against his desk, facing her. "Not necessarily. He said I could keep them for as long as needed. I-I'm planning to read them over again, just to be sure, a-and there's some information about magic and wizard history that's incredibly fascinating."
And Buffy couldn't help a slight smile at that.
"Got a lot of time on your hands, huh?" she teased.
Giles chuckled slightly. "Summer isn't as eventful for a librarian who has no library."
Speaking of…
"Willow and Xander tell me they're shipping the Seniors off to Grant to finish their last year," she relayed.
The Watcher crossed his arms and leaned against his desk a little more.
"Placing the students, and faculty, in different schools proved to be a bit of a challenge," he informed her, "but they did the best with what they could, I suppose."
"Are you going with them or are they sending you somewhere else?"
He let out a contemplative sigh. "I put in my request, but in the end, it's out of my hands. I am hoping for Grant, it being the closest school to the Hellmouth."
Buffy shook her head. "You can take the Watcher off the Hellmouth, but not the Hellmouth out of the Watcher."
"Well, that's the thing about a Calling, one can never truly escape it."
And Buffy scoffed. "Don't I know it."
There really wasn't any more information that needed to be revealed, at least nothing dire, and after discussing unimportant mundane things, they decided to call it a day. Giles would go back to his research and Buffy would pop on home, appreciating the one big bonus of being able to Apparate in Sunnydale – being able to avoid walking through a heatwave. Sweating through her clothes did not seem like a fun thing to do. Especially in her new halter dress. It took her days to find the cotton blue mini at the mall and she was not prepared to lose it to something as annoying as a bodily function.
Unfortunately, Buffy couldn't exactly Apparate herself into the middle of her air-conditioned home, since her current visitors didn't know she could, and Buffy was not exactly itching to share that secret just yet. So, onto the porch it was. She really needed to look into installing the floo network at Giles's, it would make things so much simpler in times like this.
With a mild pop, Buffy was soon on her doorstep, with nary a soul around. With a quick fix to her sandal, in which the back strap had slipped during her travel, she made her way over the threshold and through the door, and into a…not so empty living room.
"Harry," she said softly, surprised.
It was a very bright day. The living room illuminated by sun light streaming through the sheer fabric of the curtains and over the lone body standing in the middle of it all as he looked around to the many artifacts and knick-knacks that made up the Summers home. It was a surreal scene, as Harry Potter had never actually been in her home. At Sunnydale High fighting off vampires and nearly dying, sure, but she would have never pictured him here with his haphazard hair and inquisitive expression.
He was inconveniently dressed for summery California weather. Clothed in dark jeans with a dark t-shirt that lay beneath a jacket. Too much darkness and too many layers for a place that was over one-hundred-degrees Fahrenheit at five in the afternoon.
Harry had been preoccupied by a painting over the fireplace when he heard her, and when he looked up, he smiled in such a way that it made it Buffy smile even wider at seeing him.
"Hi," was all he said, a little dazzled at her presence. Of seeing her. She looked different…and it just wasn't the sun kissed skin and lighter hair, or the short blue dress that was very much not a school uniform…she looked relaxed. She looked happy.
Casually, they walked closer to each other, meeting somewhere in the friendly middle.
"I didn't know you would be here," she said as she dropped her purse onto the couch cushions.
"I didn't either. Dumbledore said we were going to the Burrow, but…he dropped me off here."
"Good call, considering nobody's actually at the Burrow."
They smiled again, and Buffy was just about to go in for a friendly hug when the herd came stomping in.
"Harry!"
"Harry!"
And any hug between Buffy and Harry would not come to pass, as everyone else was ready to hug him themselves. And many a hugs there were from the many members of his extended friends and family.
"Sirius just told us," Ron informed his best friend.
Buffy raised her eyebrow at Mr. Black. "Thanks for sharing."
"You weren't home," he shot back.
"So, not the point."
Sirius was quick to retort, when Joyce intervened before he could give a snappy comeback.
"We were in the dining room when Dumbledore arrived," she revealed.
Harry was just finishing the last of his greetings when he reiterated his version of events. "He told me he was taking me to the Burrow for summer vacation, but we ended up here."
"Probably kept it a secret just in case," his godfather deduced.
"In case of what?" asked Ron
"In case they were being watched," Buffy answered.
Right, evil wizard and crazy followers on the loose. Can't forget that.
Harry had a question on the tip of his tongue when a massive yawn suddenly pushed itself through.
"You must be exhausted," Mrs. Weasley realized. "What with the time difference, it hadn't even occurred to me."
"What time is it here?" Harry asked, his brain starting to ache for sleep.
"After five in the afternoon," Hermione replied. "Which makes it past one in the morning in England."
It seemed that Harry's body sagged even more at the revelation, and he couldn't help but let out another yawn. And Mrs. Weasley took that as a direct order.
"Alright, come on, let's get you settled," she said, ushering him forward. "Mind sharing with Ron?" And with depleting energy, Harry shook his head. "Good, let's get you setup there."
"I think you'll really like the basement," Ron told him. "It's got the best views."
And the rest of the group followed behind Mrs. Weasley, the majority even following her downstairs as she guided Harry Potter to his new vacation spot.
While four of them, headed towards the kitchen, to discuss Buffy's meeting earlier that day.
"So, what did Mr. Giles say?" asked Joyce of her daughter.
By then, Buffy had already reached the refrigerator, in search of a cold snack for a very hot day.
"Nothing much," she answered, head hidden from view. "He still hasn't found any answers of why Sirius and I came back."
"Dumbledore's books were of no help, then?" asked Sirius.
"Not really, but Giles is gonna hold onto them, hoping he might find a speck of something."
"Well, if he needs any help, I'm more than happy to offer my assistance," Mr. Weasley volunteered.
With a bowl of fresh of cut pineapple in her hands, she turned back. "I think that's a great idea, but when it comes to Giles and books, most of the time it's best to leave him be. But I'll definitely let him know."
Mr. Weasley smiled and gave a nod in understanding, while Ms. Summers eyed her daughter as she placed the bowl on the kitchen island.
"Pineapple," she stated with implication, "sure you wouldn't like some, oh, let's say cookies for instance? Chocolate chip? Nutter Butters?"
With wide eyes, and a mouth full of fruit, Buffy looked at her mother's knowing expression and then at Sirius's immediate guilty one. Busted. How did she –
"It was Buffy's idea," Sirius couldn't help but throw her under the bus.
Buffy's jaw dropped at his lack of spine then quickly swallowed the remaining food in her mouth. "I…you…he ate most of them!"
"I did not!"
"You did, too!"
"I didn't get a crumb – not a crumb! – of shortbread, you –"
"Because you were full of Nutter Butters, Mr. Peanut!"
And then Sirius's jaw dropped, insulted. "I beg your pardon, Miss Chips Ahoy!"
"Bring it on, Pillsbury Doughboy," she countered.
And Joyce and Arthur stood and watched and listened as they argued and slung some imaginative insults at each other.
"Maybe I should've kept it to myself," said Joyce.
"And where would the fun have been in that?" Arthur disagreed.
And Joyce smiled, because where would the fun be indeed? They had eaten most of her curated secret stash, after all.
The argumentative voices of Buffy and Sirius bounced off the walls and traveled all the way down to the basement, where Molly had just finished setting up a very cozy looking cot near Ron's.
"What's going on up there?" Ron asked, looking at the opened doorway as if it would give him answers.
"Dunno, Sirius probably ticked Buffy off somehow," said Harry, knowing it was very likely true.
"There we go," Mrs. Weasley said, pleased at her work. "Now, Harry, dear, I see your trunk but where's Hedwig?"
"Dumbledore told me he sent her off to Hogwarts until we got back to the Burrow," he replied, taking a seat on his newly made bed.
"Smart man. Wouldn't do well to have an owl flying around here," she said, and despite knowing Sunnydale, and its residents being somewhat aware of its fair share of demons, vampires, and supernatural entities, Molly felt better keeping their Wizarding things under wraps as much as possible.
"Not like anyone would notice," Ginny pointed out.
Molly gave her that reproachful eye she was so good at, and Ginny gifted her with the biggest cheekiest grin she could muster. And Molly brushed off the whole thing.
"All right, well, you're all set. Get yourself some sleep, and I'll come check on you later for supper."
She gave him a smile, a warm pat on the cheek, and went up the stairs. Leaving four teenagers to their devices – with the door open of course.
"When did you lot get here?" Harry asked of the group.
"Yesterday," answered Ron. "Dad's got a week's leave from the Ministry."
"So, we decided to have a fun Sunnydale adventure," Ginny tacked on.
Harry smiled. "I don't think fun and Sunnydale go…." And slowly that sentenced turned into another heavy yawn.
"You really need to sleep," Hermione advised him and then turned to Ron and Ginny. "We should go."
"Yeah, we'll talk after your brain's working again," Ron said, following Hermione's lead towards the stairs.
"And he should know," Ginny added cryptically going to the stairs as well.
It wasn't long before Harry heard the door close and he was now left alone in the cold basement, which was nice considering how hot the day was. He took of his shoes and jacket and settled himself underneath the cooling white sheets. He removed his glasses and placed them right next to his pillow, where his head soon rested, and as he searched for sleep, his mind wandered to earlier that day…or night, depending on the continent…which started with meeting a peculiar man Harry and Dumbledore had visited before arriving in Sunnydale…
Horace Slughorn was a very odd man who looked very much like a walrus. He was short, bald with an immense belly and an enormous, silver, walrus-like moustache.
And he was a man Harry did not take an immediate liking to.
Convincing Slughorn to return to Hogwarts was the 'assistance in a matter' that Dumbledore had requested in his letter. Which had become a difficult task for the Headmaster, but he saw some hope with Harry. Because as it happened, Slughorn had a very strange hobby of 'collecting' students; it was a peculiar penchant of self-serving favoritism hiding as mentoring promising pupils. And Dumbledore knew that, "He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry. You would be the jewel of his collection; 'the Boy Who Lived'…or, as they call you these days, 'the Chosen One.'"
But Harry didn't want to be collected by anyone, much less a professor who only saw teaching his students as IOUs paid upon their success. Harry had enough people after him; he didn't need any extras tacking on.
Thankfully, their meeting was not a very long one. Harry had grown tired, and annoyed, hearing about Slughorn's 'accomplishments', even more so when he had included Harry's mother on the list. Slughorn was impressed by her talent, despite the fact that she was Muggle-born, and that right there did not sit well with Lily Potter's, née Evan's, son. And he knew he wanted to be involved with the man only as much as necessary.
Soon after Slughorn had agreed to return, somewhat begrudgingly, to teach at Hogwarts, Dumbledore and Harry finished their stop in the charming village of Budleigh Babberton, and the pair finally Apparated to…not the Burrow.
"Sir?" Harry questioned, confused.
It was bright and hot, and very much not like the atmosphere they had experienced seconds ago, and not the one Harry would've imagined arriving in.
"I'm afraid I should've warned you ahead of time before arriving in Sunnydale, but we are living in strange and dire times."
Harry smiled immediately, realizing they were in the very city Sirius was currently living in, and most likely at the very door of Buffy's house, and what all that implied. "We're in Sunnydale?"
Dumbledore nodded in confirmation.
"Now, if you don't mind, Harry," said Dumbledore before he could ask any more questions, and led them to sit on the wicker seats on the porch "I'd like a few words with you before we step inside…now, I gather that you have been reading the Daily Prophet over the last two weeks?"
"Yes," said Harry, and his heart beat a little faster.
"Then you will have seen that there have been not so much leaks as floods concerning your adventure in the Hall of Prophecy?"
"Yes," said Harry again. "And now everyone knows that I'm the one —"
"No, they do not," interrupted Dumbledore. "It is true that many have guessed, correctly, that Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to steal a prophecy, and that the prophecy concerned you. With that in mind, have you told anybody else that you know what the prophecy said?"
"Just Buffy and Sirius," admitted Harry.
"A wise decision, on the whole," said Dumbledore. "Although I think you ought to relax it in favor of your friends, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger, as well. Yes," he continued, when Harry looked startled, "I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them."
"I didn't want —"
"— to worry or frighten them?" said Dumbledore, surveying Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends, Harry." Harry said nothing, but Dumbledore did not seem to require an answer. He continued, "On a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year."
"Private — with you?" said Harry, surprised out of his preoccupied silence.
"Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education."
"What will you be teaching me, sir?"
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Dumbledore airily.
Harry waited hopefully, but Dumbledore did not elaborate, so he asked something else that had been bothering him slightly.
"If I'm having lessons with you, I won't have to do Occlumency lessons with Snape, will I?"
"Professor Snape, Harry — and no, you will not."
"Good," said Harry in relief, "because they were a —"
He stopped, careful not to say what he really thought.
"I think the word 'fiasco' would be a good one here," said Dumbledore, nodding and Harry laughed.
"Well, that means I won't see much of Professor Snape from now on," he said, "because he won't let me carry on Potions unless I get 'Outstanding' in my OWL., which I know I haven't."
"Don't count your owls before they are delivered," said Dumbledore gravely. "Which, now I think of it, ought to be sometime tomorrow given the time difference. Now, two more things, Harry, before we part. Firstly, I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onward. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand me?"
Harry nodded. "And lastly, while I hope you enjoy your time here, I want you to remember now, that when staying at the Burrow in about a week's time, the place has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Arthur and Molly — all their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck while staying with them."
"I understand," said Harry quickly and couldn't help but ask, "Does the Ministry know I'll be staying here?"
"No, I think it's best to keep that a secret. I don't think Buffy would appreciate Aurors roaming around, and I most heartily agree with her there," he said.
"Right," Harry replied, smiling a little, knowing Buffy would raise hell at any Ministry intervention in Sunnydale.
"Very well, then," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat. "Let's invite ourselves inside where I have some much needed explaining to do."
a/n: For future reading, please keep in mind, due to the fact the Sunnydale will make appearances in this story, I've made it so the characters are able to Apparate between very large distances, which I know goes against the Potterverse rules, but some things are necessary.
a/n: Also time zones are crazy things that I sometimes forget to figure into the story, so if there are errors or misalignments just pretend not to notice them :)