The Eighth Weasley

By Fyre

Chapter 1: The Eighth Weasley

Something strange was going on in the Weasley household. To any muggle (non-magic person), The Burrow, the house where Molly and Arthur Weasley lived with between one or all seven of their offspring, depending on the time of year, looked completely normal.

As did the residents.

But, the Weasley household was not a normal household, not by any stretch of the most overactive imagination.

For one, there was a ghoul in the attic and real gnomes in the garden.

For another, every one of the Weasley family was either a witch of a wizard.

On this day, even these extraordinary facts dimmed in the light of a visitor to The Burrow.

Molly Weasley and her husband Arthur had opened the door of their home to find the Head Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even though they had quickly counted all of their children and realised they had no more to send to the school. "Good afternoon Arthur, Molly." Dumbledore's mouth crooked in a smile. "May I...?"

"Of course!" Arthur steered passd his gobsmacked wife and pulled the door wide. "Come in, Professor Dumbledore, come in!"

As the robed wizard entered, Mrs Weasley shook herself. "Goodness!" She whispered, wiping her hands down on her flowery apron. "Professor Dumbledore! We're honoured! You should have let us know you were coming...I would have tidied up..."

"Don't worry, Molly." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I assure you that my office is probably considerably messier than your home." He followed the balding Mr Weasley into the living room, settling on one of the comfortable chairs. "I'm here on official Ministry business, special favour, so I suppose I ought to get started."

"Do you need anything, Professor? Anything at all?"

A strange look crossed the old wizard's face. "Actually, could you perhaps contact all of your children. This involves them as well." The Weasley parents exchanged anxious glances, but Dumbledore raised a hand. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I'll call them." Arthur hurried out of the room, leaving his wife nervously twisting her hands in her apron.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Professor?"

"Albus, please, Molly."

"Oh, yes, of course...would you like a cup of tea...Albus?"

The silver-haired Wizard chuckled. "Thank you, Molly. I would love one."

Leaving Dumbledore seated in the living room, Molly hurried to the kitchen, to see her husband casting handfuls of silvery-green dust into the fire. Filling the kettle, she touched it with her wand, her hand shaking.

"Arthur, you don't think...?"

Her husband looked over at her. "I don't know, Molly...I know that we hoped that one day it might happen, but I don't..." He trailed off as a face appeared in the flames. "Bill! Oh, good! Are you busy?"

"Me? Nah." Their eldest, long-haired son shook his head. "What's up? Another family reunion? Just as long as Aunt Tilly stays away from me..."

"Albus Dumbledore is here." Bill blinked. "He wants all of the family present. He-he says its ministry business..."

The face of their son split into a grin. "Dad, you haven't been tinkering with those muggle vehicles again, have you?" Seeing the tense look on his mother's face as she shakily poured boiling water into the teapot, he nodded. "I'll find Fred and George. Have you got in touch with Charlie? I think Ron's still with him."

"Charlie's my next call." Arthur replied. "Can you apparate here as soon as possible?"

"As soon as I've got the gruesome twosome. See you soon, dad." There was a pop and Bill's head disappeared from the fire. Arthur blew out a sigh of relief.

Grabbing another handful of dust, he hurled into the flames. "Charlie, son, you there?"

Spinning uncontrollably, Charlie's head came to a halt in the grate, blinking dizzily up at his parents. "Hallo, dad." Peering around his father, he winked over at his mother, who was currently firing biscuits from the cupboard onto a plate on the tray. "All right, mam?"

"Charlie, can you afford to take an hour or two off?"

Shaking sweat-matted strands of hair out of his eyes, Charlie looked towards someone that was nearby. "Oi, Jonny, mind if...dad, want me to bring Ron?" His father nodded. "Mind if me and Ron nip home for a bit? Family business." There was a pause as he waited for the response and he nodded. "All right. Dad, when do you want us back?"

"Right away, if possible."

"Ey, Ron? Think you're up to a bit of disapparating?" Charlie turned back to his father. "We'll be there as soon as Ron gets away from the Ridgeback. Ruddy thing decided his hair wasn't red enough..."

"You just make sure he doesn't get hurt, Charlie!" Mrs Weasley called over her husband's shoulder, lifting the tray.

Charlie grinned. "We're working will bleedin' dragons, mum." He replied, a shiny burn on his cheek more prominent when he grinned. "It's like telling Percy that he's not allowed to kiss his boss' arse!"

"Charlie!"

"See you in a bit, mum." Laughing, Charlie disappeared with a loud pop.

Molly blew out a huff of indignation. "Sometimes, I wonder if we shouldn't have been stricter with those boys."

Her husband laughed softly. "You always say that, love." He remarked. He took another handful of dust. "We only need to try and get Percy away from work and Ginny away from Harry long enough to talk to them both."

"If you ask me, a two month Honeymoon is a bit much." The tray floated from her hands and drifted in the direction of the door. "They've only been married three months, for goodness sake. You would think they would like to settle down."

Barely a month after their youngest child had finished her studies at Hogwarts, she and the famous Harry Potter had married in secret. No one could quite believe it, particularly Harry's best friend and their youngest son, Ron.

When anyone ever asked the grinning Ginny what she saw in her husband, she usually managed to mutter something about his 'wand action', before disappearing off with a wide and surprisingly dirty grin on her face.

After revealing their secret marriage, the couple had vanished away on a mystery honeymoon and hadn't been seen since around the middle of August. Postcards kept being delivered from various points of the world, including the Arctic circle, Stonehenge and - most strangely - the border of America and Mexico.

Even "The Daily Prophet", the wizarding newspaper hadn't been able to locate the now-World-famous couple. From what The Weasleys could gather from the postcards, that was exactly Harry and Ginny's point.

"Harry always did say he wanted to travel." Arthur reminded her, tossing some dust into the fire again. "Harry, Ginny? Are you two..."

"We're here, dad!" Their daughter's giggling face appeared in the flames. "Harry! Stoppit!"

Harry's head appeared too, but he was almost unrecognisable, his hair even longer than it been before, his glasses missing. "Afternoon Mr Weasley!" They both had colourful stripes painted on their cheeks. "You just scared half of the tribe we're staying with out of the wits."

"Are you two...er...busy?"

"We're on our honeymoon, dad." Ginny laughed. "Course we're not. Whats up?"

"Any chance you might be able to come home for a few hours?" The two heads disappeared with a pop. "Harry? Ginny?"

"Boo!" A pair of arms wrapped around Mr Weasley, making him jump with surprise. "Hello, dad! Whatcha needing us for?"

"Ginny! What on earth are you wearing!" Flustered, Mrs Weasley crossed the floor and embraced her daughter, then held her at arm's length.

"And here was me thinking you'd be glad to see us." Ginny returned the hug, then took a step back from her mother and made a twirl. "Do you like it?" She was wearing what looked like a single strip of crudely woven, colourful fabric with clay bracelets circling her wrists. Her waist-length hair had been braided and threaded through with ribbons and feathers. "We were half way down Africa when you called."

"Er..." Molly eyed the rough outfit, fingering her wand.

"Don't even think about it, mum!"

Harry's voice interrupted from the table. "I think she looks smashing." If the Weasleys Senior had stared at their daughter's outlandish clothing, that was nothing compared to the gape that Harry received.

The Wizard was sitting in one of the seats, a woven kilt-like skirt around his hips and what looked like a lion-skin cape flung over his shoulders. His torso, as well as his face, had been daubed with colourful paint.

"I think I might...er...go and see to Professor Dumbledore." Mrs Weasley said, directing the tray through the door.

"Old Dumble's here? Brilliant!" Standing, Harry caught his wife's hand and winked. "I think he's going to love our new look." They followed Molly through to the living room, leaving Arthur to contact his remaining son.

In the living room, Mrs Weasley poured a cup of tea for Dumbledore, who eyed the newly-weds with interest. "Thank you Molly...and you two, remarkably well done on keeping your location hidden."

"We can thank Hermione for that." Harry said with a grin, pushing his long fringe back from his eyes. "She made us enough Polyjuice potion to keep ourselves in disguise until all this fuss wears out. As far as anyone knows, Ron and Hermione have been travelling the world and looking very cosy together."

"But there was that one time we mixed up the potions...Ron wasn't too happy about being married to Ron, was he?" Ginny laughed. "I told Harry we should have got different colours of flasks, but no, the famous Mister Potter knew better..." She did a wicked impression of Snape, their former Potions teacher. "He is so deluded by his fame that he is bound to make simple, foolish mistakes."

"Oh shut up." Harry snatched the cushion from behind his back and aimed it at her head.

"Wow! This must be a special occasion if THE couple grace us with their presence." Neither of the couple on the couch had to look to see who was speaking. "Nice to see you, sis." Ginny was hugged from behind by someone who was still smoking slightly around the head. "Harry...you too."

Harry was on his feet in an instant. "Nice to see you too, Ron." Offering his hand to his friend, he gave Ron a fond hug. "How've you been? Still playing with fire, I see." He nodded to the singed patch of Ron's hair. "Let me guess...you and Hermione had a tiff..."

"Harry, we stopped going out with each other three years ago."

"So...you and Hermione had a tiff?"

Charlie, standing several paces behind his youngest brother, grinned. "Unless Hermione has learned to become an animagus that can turn into a dragon, I don't think so...but with Hermi, anything is possible."

"Did you just insult our teacher of Muggle Studies?" Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Don't we always, Professor?" Ron crossed the floor to shake Dumbledore's hand.

The old wizard nodded with a chuckle. "Good point, Ronald. Very good point." He glanced at the clock in the corner. "Ah, the twins and Bill are travelling together?" There was a 'ding' from the clock, three figures appearing in the centre of the living room.

"All right, mum?" The twins descended on their mother, both wearing white robes that resembled muggle lab coats. At least, they would have been white, if they hadn't been covered in potions and concoctions. They both risked a glance at Harry and Ginny.

Fred raised a brow. "Mum, did you know Tarzan and Jane are in the living room?"

"Funny. I didn't know that Jane was a red head."

Ginny shot a glare at them. "Shut up or I'll set Harry on you!"

"Oh!" Fred peered closely at Harry. "That's Harry! I thought you'd run off with a wild man."

"Mum! Tell them to stop it!"

George grinned. "Sorry, Gin. Its just too easy to wind you up." He looked at down at his mother. "We'll behave, mum."

"I hope you two haven't been getting into any trouble lately." They looked shocked at the accusation. Neither of them had gotten around to telling her that they were the new proprietors of Zonko's Joke Shop in Hogsmeade. Letting each of them kiss her cheek, Molly turned to her eldest son. "Oh, Bill...you still haven't done anything about that hair of yours!"

Sipping his tea, Dumbledore raised his eyes to the former Head boy and smiled beneath his moustache. "It could do with being a little longer, don't you think, Molly?"

"But Albus, it looks so silly being so long and...well..." Her eyes suddenly seemed to alight on Dumbledore's silver mane. "I suppose it can look respectable on the right person..."

"This had better be important." A snooty voice rang through the door of the kitchen.

All of the present Weasleys looked at one another and - as one - said. "Percy!" Hurriedly taking all the seats, they all looked to the door, exchanging grins as the door opened, letting Mr Weasley enter.

The only one of the Weasleys to work for the Ministry aside from their father, Percy strode into the living room behind his father with his usual air of self-importance.

"Deructus." Bill muttered under his breath with the tiniest flick of his wand in Percy's direction..

Percy's shoelaces quickly twisted together and he tripped, falling onto his face in the open floor. "Ow! Mother!" Molly hurriedly helped him up, as the whole room erupted in laughter. He scowled around, hopping to an empty spot of floor and sitting, every seat taken.

"Fred!" Fred gaped at his mother. "George!" He looked baffled. "Charlie!" The dragon-keeper shrugged helplessly. "Ron!" He shook his head. "Ginny!" The nineteen-year-old lapsed into giggles, shaking her head. "Harry?"

"Wasn't me, Mrs Weasley."

Bill, who was looking remarkably innocent, looked up at his mother. She crosed her arms over her chest. "What?"

"At your age, I would have thought that you would at least have learned to set a good example to your brothers and sister."

"Molly, it’s too late for him to change now." Dumbledore said jovially. "Now, I hope you are all comfortable? As I told your parents, I am here on business of the Ministry. I was asked especially to deliver the news to you."

Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at each other, Molly coming to sit on the arm of her husband's chair. "Is-is this about what we think its about, Albus?" Arthur asked hopefully, his arm wrapping around his plump wife's waist.

"Quite possibly." Dumbledore placed his cup on his knee and folded his hands in his lap. "We have sent a team of wizards from the Unmentionable department to check, but we believe we are correct. The location of Sarah Weasley has been uncovered. She is alive, safe and well."

Mrs Weasley buried her face in her hands with a loud sob, Mr Weasley sitting upright. "Are-are you certain?"

"Almost a hundred and fifty percent." Dumbledore nodded with a smile.

"Arthur...they've found her...they've found her..." Molly turned to her seated husband, wrapping her arms around him. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she was smiling. "Nineteen years...nineteen years..."

All of the Weasley children were exchanging bemused looks. "Mum..." Bill finally asked. "Who is Sarah Weasley anyway? Do we know her?"

Wiping her face on her apron, Molly sat up, smiling happily. "You don't know her...or at least, you probably don't remember her...Arthur, should we tell them...?" He nodded. "Sarah Weasley is your youngest sister, Ginny's twin."

"I-I have a twin?" Ginny stared at her parents. "You didn't tell me I had a twin!"

Arthur patted Molly's hand. "We thought she was dead up until now." He said, his voice shaking with emotion. "Just after you were born, Death Eaters snatched her and would have taken you. It was only days before..." Even since his defeat, saying his name was difficult for the majority of wizards. "Voldemort went after the Potters. We thought she had been killed but it seems she wasn't..."

"Where is she? Does she know about us?"

Dumbledore made a gesture for calm. "She isn't aware of the existence of our world, in its truest form. She was adopted and raised by a couple of muggles, so she has the same kind of upbringing as Harry did." He said. "However, she has been experimenting with her abilities, which is how she was found. It was her location that caused so many problems. From what the Ministry has told me, she has lived her life on a centrepoint of magical convergence, which made it difficult to pinpoint her for a time."

"How are we going to get in touch with her?" Mrs Weasley asked, her voice trembling. "After all, Harry's story has been leaked to the Muggles...maybe she's heard about it?"

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I just want to know how that Rawlings woman found out so much about me...about us. She knew about the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, Sirius' escape from Azkhaban...if she keeps on at this rate, she'll tell my whole School life to the Muggles."

"No doubt she will be aware of it, but she probably assumed that it was fictional." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "After all, its all seems so fantastic to Muggles, that none of them realise that it did happen."

"But we will be able to contact her?"

Dumbledore nodded. "The Ministry has asked me to be the first to contact her, to see if she does wish to rejoin her true family." He smiled around at them. "If she will see me and agrees to see you all, I will contact you and bring her to the Leaky Cauldron as soon as I can."

"Can you even tell us where she is?" Arthur asked hopefully.

The old Wizard shook his head, his expression turning serious. "Not until she is informed of the circumstances."

"But she is happy and well?"

"She is." Rising, handing his cup and saucer to Charlie, Dumbledore brushed his colourful robes down and bent to shake Arthur's hand. "I will let you know as soon as we know more, Arthur. Molly..." She grasped his long-fingered hand, shaking it gratefully. "Take care."

***

Tapping his lower lip with his fingertips, Dumbledore dipped his quill into the bottle of ink. He had been pondering how to word the letter ever since the Ministry had permitted him to be the one to contact the girl who had once been called Sarah Weasley.

Gazing at the sheet of parchment, the Hogwarts crest embossed at the top, he smiled slightly. Placing the tip of the quill on the paper, he starting to scratch the letter in place, the green lettering shining on the parchment.

Several minutes later, content with his efforts, he carefully folded the sheet and slipped it into an envelope. Turning the envelope over, he released a long sigh and carefully etched the address of the girl on the front.

Miss Willow Rosenberg,

214 Stevenson Hall

U.C. Sunnydale.

California

USA.

Chapter 2: Contact

Harry stirred drowsily, one hand stretching out across the bed that he and his wife shared. One eye opened when his finger skimmed over the cool sheet and he released a sigh, sitting up.

Once again, Ginny had woken, no doubt troubled by thoughts of the twin she never knew that she had.

Pushing the heavy patchwork blankets off his body, he swung out of the large bed and onto the wooden floor, one hand groping out across the bedside cabinet for his wand and his glasses.

Straightening up, he ran his fingers through his mussed hair, which always looked so much worse when he just got up, although quite a few people found that hard to believe, considering how wild it was on a day to day basis.

He could hear music, quiet music, from somewhere.

No doubt, the living-room.

Illuminating his wand with a mutter, he glanced around the room to make sure that Ginny definitely wasn’t there, his brow furrowing as he saw her thick, warm red dressing gown still draped over the end of the bed.

"For goodness’ sake, Ginny," he muttered to himself, picking up the warm robe. "You’ll catch your death of cold…"

Hauling his own dark green dressing down on, hers slung over his arm, he shuffled out into the cool hallway, spotting a glow from the living room a door down on the opposite side of the hall, the door of which was partially ajar.

He and his wife lived in a small bungalow, which had been a gift to them from the Ministry of Magic.

The official reason behind them having house was it was a ‘thank you’ present, but the real reason was that Ginny had been used as bait to trap several Death Eaters and had almost been killed.

Harry had been furious about it, but Ginny – when offered the nice little house they now shared – had said they might as well take it instead of griping.

One storey, with a fairly large kitchen, medium-sized, comfortable bedroom and study-cross-living room, they had settled in quickly, after their return from the Honeymoon and Harry was sure he had seen Ginny doodling plans for additional rooms, entitled ‘Harry Junior’s’ and Ginny Junior’s’.

Padding down the hall, the carpets soft against his feet, he opened the door to see a fire crackling quietly in the red brick hearth on the other side of the room. The large sofa hid much of the other side of the living room.

Fred and George had been the ones to produce it and it still occasionally swallowed their visitors whole, if Harry didn’t remember to cast the counter-charm on it before they sat down.

Quiet classical music was playing on the small stereo he insisted on having on the dresser that stood beside the fireplace, between photographs of their parents and beneath the picture they had taken at their wedding.

Crossing the room, he looked over the back of the couch, a sad smile coming to his face.

A small figure was sitting in front of the fire, her knees hugged up against her chest.

As always, she was sitting in front of the fire, gazing into the dancing flames.

"Ginny?"

She didn’t even look around. "I was thinking."

"So I could tell," he replied quietly, walking around the couch, which stretched from one side of the room to the other. Kneeling down, he wrapped her dressing gown around her shoulders. "You’re freezing."

"I’m okay," she muttered, staring at the flames.

"Something tells me that you’re not, love," Harry sighed, drawing her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. "You’ve been working yourself into a state all week. It’s not good for you."

"I just…its just that…" He wasn’t surprised when she uttered a quiet sob and curled against his chest. "Harry…I have a sister…I have a twin…how could I not know about her? How could I not feel her?"

Hugging her, rocking her soothingly, Harry pressed kisses to her temple and the top of her head. "You didn’t know, Ginny…your memory…you couldn’t know…"

"But I should have…there was always something missing…always…how could I not realise what it was?"

Lifting her face to his with one hand, Harry studied her, his thumb moving in circles on her cheek. She looked angry, confused and a little scared as well, blotches of red on her pale face. "Ginny, you can’t blame yourself. Your parents hid it from you, so you wouldn’t get hurt."

"What if she…she thinks we betrayed her? Because we didn’t remember her?"

"She won’t."

"How do…"

Gentle fingers quieted her words. "Ginny, believe me. She won’t."

"But how…"

Harry gave her the smile that always drew a smile from her, no matter how sad she was feeling. "Because," he said his forehead resting lightly against hers. "I’m the famous Mister Harry Potter. I know all. I see all."

"You’re an arse is more like it," she sniffed, burrowing against him.

"Well, that too, but even you have to admit I’m a damn good looking arse."

Ginny laughed weakly, her head coming to rest beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around her body. "You think she’ll want to meet us, Harry?" she asked, her voice still shaking a little.

"I’m sure she will, love."

"Really?"

"It’s going to be one of those nights where I have to repeat everything five times at least before you believe me, isn’t it?"

His wife hiccupped quietly and sniffed again. "I always believe you, Harry," she whispered. "But I’ve never had to face the fact that I have a sister, who was stolen and now, she might be coming back…"

"If it helps, I haven’t had to do that either," Harry nuzzled her hair. "Can you imagine the poor girl who would have to deal with having me as a brother? God help her! At least your sister has you…"

"You’re being all mushy again."

"And?"

Ginny looked up at him. "It’s weird."

"I know and that’s why I do it," he laughed, sliding his muscular arms under her body and, ignoring her squeal, scooping her up. "And now, Mrs Potter," he announced. "We are going back to bed."

"But Harry!"

"No ‘buts’, my dear Mrs Potter," he chastised, his eyes twinkling. "I have Quidditch practise at ten o’clock in the morning and I need you to be awake and ready to help me warm up before I leave."

Her arms around his neck, Ginny gave him a suspicious look. "Is that Quidditch player talk for we’re going to have wild and kinky sex?"

Green eyes crinkled with amusement. "Well, if you insist…"

***

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Willow stared blankly down at the cushion that was lying in her lap. Twisting the gold fringe around her fingertip, she watched the tip of the digit turn an odd shade of purple.

"Will, you okay?" Standing at her mirror, Buffy was brushing dried grass and dirt from her slay-tangled hair. Shaking her blonde mane out behind her, she looked over at the red head . "Will? Anyone in?"

The red head looked up miserably. "You know when a boyfriend doesn't want to...you know...is that bad?"

"Hello?" Crossing the floor, her hands pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Buffy sat down on her friend’s bed. "Will , you're talking to Miss I-sleep-with-my-hunny-and-he-becomes-evil-demon-killer. I don't think I'm the best person to ask."

Willow sighed. "I know...its just...that weird Verruca-I-dance-like-a-ho and Oz...they have so much more in common that Oz and me do..."

"Oz is your faithful puppy, Will," The blonde squeezed the red head’s knee fondly. "Just as long as you never tell me you made him to beg...not that I'm saying you're a domina...er...that's evil double vampire badness! Shutting up...and did you know there's an owl at your window?"

Willow smiled faintly. "You don't have to talk crazy to try and distract me."

"I'm serious, Will!" Buffy pointed beyond her friend’s shoulder and through the glass. "There’s an owl sitting on the window ledge...its got something in its beak."

"Huh?" The witch sat up and looked at the window. Large, round, yellow eyes stared back at her unblinkingly from the tendrils of ivy spread over the ledge. A yellowish envelope was clutched in a vivid orange beak, swirling green writing faintly visible on the front.

Willow opened the window and curtains, letting the tawny owl hopped over the ledge. It dropped the envelope on the vacant mattress. Fluttering over to the sink, its claws clicked on the edge as it landed and looked at the basin expectantly.

"I think it's thirsty," Buffy hurried over the basin, running a little water into it. The owl hooted gratefully and dipped his beak into the water.

Willow, though, had picked up the envelope, turning it over. "Buffy, you know those books everyone has been talking about?"

"Harry Potter?" The Slayer was watching the owl.

"What was the name of the school in the book?"

The blonde looked over, shrugged. Holding out a hand to the bird on the sink, she laughed as the owl hopped onto it. "Hog...Hog-something..."

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" The red head slowly sat down on the bed, staring at the crest emblazoned on the back of the envelope.

Buffy nodded, making for the fridge and raking through the aging student supplies until she found a piece of not-too-old meat. The bird accepted it and hooted again. "I think it likes me," she said cheerfully, "but what’s the deal with the Hog-thingie?"

"Can you...uh...get letters from fictional characters?"

"Is this a trick question?" The blonde looked over, rubbing the owl’s head. "It sounds like something Giles would ask before telling us Hansel and Gretel were really a freaky, lumpy, giant demon who made people paranoid about everything and tried to kill us all by burning us...oh, wait. That did happen..."

"I'm serious." Opening out the sheet of folded parchment, Willow stared at it. "Either I'm going crazy...er, or someone's doing a lot of work for a very good practical joke," She looked up at her friend hopefully. "I'm not going crazy, am I? Cos I don't want to go crazy, cos craziness usually means badness and badness isn't good and I don't not want to be good and I'm babbling again, aren't I which is good cos it means I'm not crazy cos I always babble...or does it mean I am crazy cos I’m babbling more than usual…?"

"Hey, hey...calm down," Buffy couldn't help smiling. Leaving the owl on the desk beside the refrigerator, feasting on a small dish of scraps, she came to Willow’s side, holding out her hand for the letter. "Let me have a look at it."

"But I'm not crazy?"

"Will, I would tell you if you were crazy."

Willow gave her a lop-sided grin. "Thanks."

"What are best friends for?" The blonde smoothed out the letter and started to read, "Dear Miss Rosenberg...sounds normal enough...I, Albus Dumbledore, have been selected to contact you, in regards to your magical...blah-blah-blah....dum-dum-dum...please contact us by return of owl, if you wish to know more. Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to write back?"

Willow gaped at her. "Are you serious? Its from a character from a fantasy book and if I write back I'm going to look very stupid...because if I'm even reading and believing it probably means I'm very stupid, doesn't it...?"

"Just write back for fun then," The Slayer grinned mischievously. "Ask 'Albus Dumbledore' to come and see you, about this matter of 'great personal import' and then you'll see if he's fictional or if he's just a really cute geek that I can date," The small owl fluttered across the room and landed on her shoulder. "What?" She gave the owl a shocked look. "I can’t date a geek?"

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Why not? What harm can it do?"

"Um...dated a demon computer because he sounded kinda neat..."

The Slayer nodded. "Uh…yeah...well, I bet this guy'll be different. I mean, he’s probably not even from around here, so what are the chances of him being all demony?" She made a hurrying gesture and nodded at the letter. "Write back. It'll take your mind off things, like Skanky-Ho."

"I guess..." Grabbing a pen off the bedside cabinet, she reached down and opened the drawer, withdrawing a sheet of paper. "Uh…what should I write?"

Buffy shrugged, raising her hand to bring the owl down to perch on her knee. It hooted softly, shifting from one clawed foot to the other. "You’re the one who always says all the smart stuff, Will. I just sit around and look cute and confused," She half-grinned. "Just ask Giles."

The red head laughed. "I guess so…" Leaning on the low desk, she started to write. "Okay, how does this sound…" She cleared her throat and read. "Dear Mister Dumbledore. I got your letter and I was wondering if you could tell me how you heard about me and what you want to meet me about." There was a pause, as she scribbled something else. "Please."

"That sounds okay," Bending to root around in the drawer of her own locker beside her bed, Buffy withdrew an unopened packet of white envelopes. "You want to make a good impression, right? Its not like I’m ever going to use these things." She pulled a face at the envelopes. "Ever."

Accepting one of the envelopes, Willow signed the letter, then slipped the piece of paper into the envelope and sealed it. "What address should I use? The School one? Or shall I just put his name on it or Sir or something?"

"His name and Hog-gie place’s address?"

Nodding, Willow scribbled the address on the front and awkwardly held out the letter to the owl on Buffy’s knee. "Uh…can you take this to Dumbledore for me? Please?"

The owl hooted and lifted the top of the envelope in its beak. Ruffling its feathers, it fluttered to the open window and paused on the sill. Spreading its wings, it launched itself out into the night air, Buffy and Willow watching it until it was out of sight.

"And now," The blonde turned to her friend, her eyes dancing. "I officially declare you crazy."

Willow groaned. "I knew I shouldn’t have sent the letter!"

"Too late now, Will," Buffy bounced towards her bed, snatching up her suede jacket and pulling it on. "Now, are you coming out with me to kill some slimy and disgusting creatures of the night? I need someone there to hear my smart one-liners before I kill ’em."

Willow looked down as Buffy hauled a long, gleaming sword out from under the bed and spun it in her hand with an expectant look at the red head. "Do I have any choice?"

***

Three nights had past since Willow had written back to Dumbledore. Seated in his office, in the top tower of Hogwarts, the old Wizard absently ran his fingers through his long beard as he read and re-read the lines.

His tawny owl was seated on its perch, watching him out of beady eyes. "Oh, don’t worry, old friend," he chuckled. "You can rest now. I don’t intend to send you off on anymore deliveries at this moment."

The owl gave a soft, grateful hoot, then tucked its head under its wing, assuming its favourite sleeping position.

For the present, Dumbledore had other concerns. Taking off his half-moon spectacles, he rubbed his eyes wearily, then re-read the letter from the girl who did not know that she was no more muggle than he was.

No doubt, she would think it a joke.

No doubt, it would sound crazy to announce that Harry Potter was, indeed, real and was her brother-in-law.

Placing the sheet of paper on the desk, he replaced his spectacles and steepled his fingers, deep in thought. He would have to proceed carefully, he knew. He didn’t want to scare the child and he did not want to isolate her from her own people, her friends and family, with the truth.

To write another letter was an option. However, corresponding with her, until she started to understand it was no joke would probably take months.

Another alternative was for the Weasleys to go and pay a visit, but with the increasing popularity of the books, a family of nine red heads travelling in the company of an old man with a long beard and wizard robes, and a young man with black hair and the infamous lightening scar would have screamed that something unusual was going on.

The final choice remained. It was the most favourable, and yet, he found himself longing to avoid it as well.

He could clearly recall the last time he had been forced to visit a site of such powerful mystical convergence, even after so many years. He had been so young, impetuous and daring when he had taken the challenge.

He had almost died because of his arrogance and, in that painful lesson, had learned never to underestimate the other side.

Even Voldemort had feared the places known as Hellmouths, for the reason that the dark powers that they held were ones that no mere Wizard or Witch could even dream of controlling, no matter how powerful they were.

Rising, Dumbledore paced across the richly carpet-lined floor of his study, his hands folded behind his back. His gaze drifted out of the rippled glass of the windows, the colours of a new dawn just creeping into the sky and adding the vividness of day to the castle.

Despite the beauty of the dawn, he couldn’t hold in a sigh, thinking of the place he would be travelling to soon.

It was a place where exiled dark wizards could hide, it was a place where creatures of the night ran wild, it was a place he had really wanted to avoid, ever since that run in with a creature who had arrogantly called himself ‘The Master’ on a trip through the town’s underground.

To deliberately go to El Boco Di Infierno was probably one of the worst things he could imagine himself doing, but if he was to find the missing Weasley and bring her back to her family.

For all he knew, she could be in danger of the deepest and most dark varieties. Darker even that Voldemort, darkness that could not be defeated as easily as the Dark Lord. What kind of Wizard would he be, if he simply left her there to suffer?

The old Wizard released another hearty sigh and returned to his desk, retrieving his old travelling carpet bag from beneath it. "Do you want to come along, Fawkes?" he addressed the drowsy Phoenix. It gave him a stare. "No? I didn’t think you would be as foolish as I am."

Packing several items, including his wands, Dumbledore made his way out of his office and down the spiral staircase, pausing only to leave a letter for Professor McGonogall on her desk. A carriage was waiting to carry him to Hogsmeade and from there...

Ah, the wonder of disapparation.


Chapter 3: Teacher O' Mine

"I'm still not sure I believe this is happening."

Buffy cast a sidelong look at her friend, smothering a grin. "We're walking through the campus with an invisible Wizard from a kid's story walking beside us." She remarked. "What's unbelievable about that, Will?"

"Does nothing surprise you?" The red head mumbled, directing her next words at the wizard on her other side. "I feel really stupid talking to you when you're invisible."

"You don't need to look in my direction, you know, Willow." Dumbledore's softly-spoken voice came out of the air on Willow's left. "I can hear you perfectly well if you pretend you're talking to Miss Summers."

The red head shot an agonised look in his direction, or at least what she assumed was his direction. "But I can't...it feels stupid." She repeated adamantly. "Why don't you take off the cloak? We could say you...uh...you're here for a convention or something."

"I'm afraid I have visited this Hellmouth once before..." The Wizard's voice was as calm and unruffled as it had been when he had told them that the Harry Potter books were, in fact, real. "I had a rather unfortunate run in with some demons and I think a few of them might still be about."

Willow's eyes widened. "Oh! You might have met the Mayor!" She motioned with her hands to the Slayer. "He was like...what? A hundred years old?" She looked in Dumbledore's supposed direction again. "He turned into a big demon-snake-thing at Graduation and we blew him up. And the School."

"So you help Miss Summers fighting demons?"

"Ever since she saved me from a vampire when we were fifteen." Willow shot an affectionate grin in her friend's direction. "There was The Master...he was oogy...the three...the bezoar... hyena demons...Spike, another vampire, but he can't bite anymore...Angelus...Richard Wilkens, that's the Mayor and lots more." She shrugged. "Buffy beat 'em all."

"With help from you guys." Buffy was trying not to look embarrassed.

Dumbledore remained silent.

"Uh...Mister Dumbledore? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I am." There was an odd tone in his voice. It almost sounded like pride. "I never imagined that you would have been involved so extensively in keeping the muggle-world safe from the dark side."

"Uh...I'm guessing not many witches do it, then?"

"Not many are willing to." He admitted. "Its a very dangerous field."

Willow regarded the blank spot where he was meant to be standing. "That's what its like living on a Hellmouth." She replied quietly. "Not many people would say that something weird was going on. They'd go around with their eyes closed. After I saw what Buffy was fighting on her own, I wanted to help."

"Highly commendable of you." Dumbledore said warmly. "You are remarkably brave to aid a Slayer of all people."

"I wasn't the only one." The red head added hastily. "We're...kinda a gang. The Scoobies. We all help...me, Xander, Oz...Cordelia used to be...but she left. Now, Anya is kind of...there."

"And Giles." Buffy added. "He's my Watcher."

"I heard that he'd been assigned that most unfortunate employment by his father..." The wizard sighed. "He was such a commendable young Wizard, until that Muggle father of his had him signed up for that Watcher Institution."

Willow tilted her head. "Giles' father wasn't a wizard?"

"Not all wizards are pure-bloods...you recall Hermione?" The red-haired Witch nodded. "Young Giles was in the same situation as she was. Unfortunately, his family had ties to the Watcher's service and he was signed up without being given a choice. He was forced to leave
Hogwarts in the middle of his final year, which is when he went through a very bad patch..."

"Demon worshipping and stuff?" Willow offered.
"So he mentioned that?"

Buffy shook her head. "He wouldn't have told us, if the demony guy hadn't come and tried to kill him. He was really...I dunno...ashamed that he'd done something like that."

Dumbledore exhaled a sigh. "He was terribly unhappy at being forced to leave his friends at our school and using magic was the easiest way to rebel against his father's wishes. He never wanted to be a Watcher."

The Slayer nodded. "He told me something about that, years ago. He wanted to be a jet fighter pilot or a green grocer...or something..."

"That sounds like the young Rupert I remember." There was a wistful tone in the Wizard's voice. "Had he been left to pursue his own choice of career, I'm sure he could have been high in the Ministry of Magic by now."

"What was he like?" The Slayer asked.

"Rupert? An amusing young man, there was no doubt of that." She could visualise the wizard's smile and twinkling eyes. "He was very adept at potions, while Ethan - his partner in crime, I suppose you could call him - had an expertise at transfiguration. It drove Minerva... Professor MacGonogall near insane when he transfigured his classmates into pieces of furniture before she arrived in the classroom." A reminiscent chuckle escaped him. "Such a trio of mischief makers..."
"Trio?"
"I mean duo, of course. Numbers...such fickle things, aren't they? Always change when you least expect it." The girls exchanged bemused glances and, beneath his cloak, Dumbledore smiled to himself.

***

Opening his front door, Giles blinked at the two girls in surprise. "What are you two doing here? I-I-I thought you had classes."

"Something important came up...can we come in?"

"O-of course!" Stepping back, the Englishman allowed both the red head and the blonde to pass him and started to close the door when it collided with something unseen but solid that released a grunt of surprise. "What on Earth...?"

"Oh! Yeah! Invisibility cloak!" Buffy winced sympathetically.

Giles spun to face her. "What did you say?" He asked warily. Behind him, the front door closed with a loud click and there was a swish of material.

"I believe she said that there was an invisibility cloak, young Giles." A merry voice spoke from behind him. The former Librarian's face rapidly went through a series of expressions and he slowly turned. "Good to see you again, young man."

"Bloody hell!" A wide smile broke on the former Watcher's face and he quickly crossed the floor, extending a hand to grasp Dumbledore's own, shaking it vigourously. "What on Earth are you doing here, Professor? Its been an age since I've seen you!"

"At least twenty years, isn't it?"

"If not more!" Running a hand through his unruly hair, he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. "Christ...do you want to sit down, Professor?" He motioned to his couch. "What are you doing over here?"

Dumbledore accepted the offer of a seat, settling on the green couch and smiled. "If I reveal all that I know, what could I possibly use to surprise you, dear boy?" He asked with a small suggestion of a smile. A look of understanding crossed the younger man's face. "You know, a cup of tea is a terrible thing to waste."

"I'm assuming that means you would like a cuppa?" Giles was already in the kitchen, reaching for the kettle. "One Ripper's Special Brew coming right up."

"So you really did go to Hogwarts, Giles?" Willow was looking from the Wizard on the couch to the apparent-one making tea in the kitchen.

Shooting a curious glance over at the silver-haired wizard, who simply smiled serenely back at him, his hands folded peacefully in his lap, Giles raised a brow. "I'm guessing that Professor Dumbledore told you about that?"

"And that you met Ethan there."

Giles came out of the kitchen, crossing to the living room area. "Yes," He wasn't looking at either of the girls as he spoke, gazing curiously down at Dumbledore. "It's all true. Hogwarts exists and I did study there for six and a half years."

"What I want to know," Willow walked over to the window, glancing out, then back at the two men. "Is why you contacted me, Professor Dumbledore. I mean, I know I've done witchy stuff, but if I'm right, I'm too old to go to Hogwarts or anything like that."

Dumbledore nodded, his fractional smile widening a little. "I wondered when you would start to ask questions, Willow." He said softly. "But now, I am parched and conversation is always so much better over a cup of Ripper's Brew."

"Do we want to know what's in that, Giles?" The Slayer asked, peering at a spice rack the Watcher had withdrawn from a shelf in the living room.

"Oh, just some eye of newt and toe of frog." Green eyes gleamed wickedly. "It does wonders for the digestive system."

"I so hope you're joking."

"And what would be the fun in that?"

"Giles, you give us anything with bits of newt or frog in it and I'll introduce you to Mister Pointy's point myself."

***

Admittedly, Ripper's Brew hadn't been as bad as the Watcher had made out. A carefully mixed blend of dried herbs and spices, it was a sweeter, better tasting and more potent version of coffee.

Reluctantly, both girls had to admit that it wasn't bad.

"So, Professor, are you going to tell us why you're here, yet?"

Two hours had passed since the old Wizard's arrival at Giles' house and he was looking through some of the texts that were lining the walls. Giles didn't seem impatient, but both Buffy and Willow were looking curious.

"Patience is a virtue often forgotten." The bearded wizard finally sighed, turning and laying down one of the books. He settled back on the couch, raising shoeless feet to rest on the coffee table, revealing vivid yellow socks. "So, what were you saying?"

Taking the arm of the couch, Willow and Buffy both rounding the couch to sit on his coffee table, Giles looked down at his former teacher and mentor. "What are you doing in Sunnydale? You always said you would never come back here."

"Business, of course..." Reaching inside his robes, he withdrew a sheaf of parchment bound with a scarlet ribbon. "You know how much trouble centres of mystical convergence are for the Ministry to keep tags on. Any wizard or witch here is practically invisible."

"Why?"
Dumbledore glanced at Willow. "You remember that you sometimes have trouble centering your power?" She nodded. "There is so much power, particularly dark power, centred here that it makes identifying a single thread near impossible."

"So when someone thinks they've found a Wizard or something on a Hellmouth, they might have picked up a demon?"

"Exactly. That is why you went undetected for so long. And, no doubt, your friend Amy or any other magic practitioners."

"Wait a moment...she went undetected?" Giles leaned forward on his knees. "You're telling me that Willow should have attended Hogwarts?"

"That is exactly what I'm telling you, Rupert." Dumbledore's blue eyes met Giles'. "You've seen how powerful this young lady can be and you doubted that she could have attended Hogwarts or any of the other magical institutions?"

"But I'm not that powerful." Willow protested faintly. "Neither of my parents are witches or wizards or anything...or at least I don't think they are." She shrugged. "I hardly saw them enough to know."

"You mean your adoptive parents, I assume."

"Wh-what?"
The younger of the two men started. "Wait a moment...surely you're not saying..."

"What do you mean adopted?" Willow demanded, looking from one to the other, panicked. "I-I don't think I'm adopted."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I really could have done this better...your parents believe you to be theirs, as you believe them to be your parents. They were under a mind spell when you were
delivered to them."

"Delivered?" The witch whispered. Buffy wrapped her arms around her friend, staring at Dumbledore in suspicion and anger.

"What's going on here?" The Slayer demanded, her eyes flashing. "Explain."

The wizard sat back with a nod. "Willow, you are the youngest daughter of a family of wizards and witches, who come from a long line of the same. Shortly after you were born, when you were barely months old, you were snatched by...well, he could only be called a Deatheater of the most cowardly variety."

"Deatheater?"
"The followers of Voldemort." Giles explained tersely.

"Only a few days after you were taken, Voldemort was defeated and this Deatheater - incapable of killing infants, his weakness that his Master despised - was aware that if he either kept or returned you, he could be tracked and convicted of his allegiance to the Dark Lord."

Buffy raised a hand. "Who was this Dark Lord guy and can I kick his ass?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Summers." Dumbledore managed to find a faint smile for her. "He was defeated less than a year ago and this time, we hope for good." He turned back to the shell-shocked witch. "As for you, Willow, he knew if he handed you on to his sister, who was in
hiding here, you would never be found until it was too late to capture him. They went to a lot of effort and, after a lot of dark magic was pulled off by the sister, you were claimed as the child of
Ira and Sheila Rosenberg, both of them believing you to be their, in spite of the fact that they were both infertile and that your 'mother' had never been pregnant."

Willow shook her head. "But my parents...they...I don't understand." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "If they're not my parents, who are?"

"Perhaps you have read about them." He said softly, reaching over to take her hands between his. "You're the youngest of eight children, all of whom have red hair...Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred,
George, Ron, Ginny and you." She stared at him in disbelief. "Your parents are called Arthur and Molly Weasley."

"Bloody hell!" Giles exploded, half-laughing, half-shouting, slapping a hand against his thigh. "I should have known! Arthur and Molly!" He saw the look of confusion and worry on the red head's face. "Wonderful people, Willow. Wonderful."

"Are...you're serious? I-I'm related to the Weasleys?"

"Absolutely serious, Willow." Dumbledore replied.

"And you couldn't wish for a better set of parents, Willow!" Giles exclaimed, a broad smile on his face. He got to his feet, hurrying over to a dusty pile of books and picking one up. He withdrew a picture from the cover and returned to the table, handing the picture to the red-haired girl.

Her hand shaking, Willow took the picture with the attitude of someone picking up a poisonous snake, looking at Buffy for comfort. Both of them looked down at the picture, in which three youths in their late-teens bobbed on broomsticks.

"Oh my God!" Buffy squeaked. "He waved! One of them waved!"

"And they wonder why I hate muggle cameras." Dumbledore murmured.

Willow was staring at the picture, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing. One of the laughing teens was clearly Giles, his hair curly and wind-tossed. The one to his right, she could see resembled Ethan.

The third one was the one that made her come up short.

Shoulder-length, silky red hair flew loose around his face. He had a broad grin on his face and his features looked strangely familiar to her. Her fingers rose to touch her own distinct nose and mouth, her brow wrinkling.

"Is...is this him?" She asked.

"Art?"
"Don't tell me you knew him too." Buffy groaned.

Giles half-smiled in reminiscence. "Knew him? That poncy little git stole Molly from me when we were in third year." He sat down on the edge of the coffee table next to Willow, squeezing her knee reassuringly. "If this is right, Willow, you've just been given possibly the best parents in the World."

"You would say that." Dumbledore chuckled.

"Well, I can't exactly besmirch the name of the Third Musketeer."

"Can I say huh?"

"Ethan, Art and I...we were the equivalent of the Scoobies in our year at School. We were called the three Musketeers by the staff who liked us and the Three Wise Monkeys by the ones who were at the receiving end of the tricks." Giles shook his head, taking the picture from Willow and looking at it with a sad smile. "Those were the happy days...before the whole mess with Voldemort...and before my dad stepped in..."

"You mean...I'm the daughter of a friend that you went to school with, who stole your girlfriend, who is my mom or something and that you have a moving picture of, flying on a broomstick with?" Willow managed to force the sentence out.

"HOI! When do I get some bloody blood!"

Giles nodded in response to Willow's question. "And its actually a decent picture of us. Those are rare things to have." He got to his feet. "And I also have a chained-up vampire in my bath, which is also a very rare thing to have. Very in, this season, or so I've heard."

"And I thought there were no more surprises in store for today." Dumbledore remarked with amusement. "Living on a Hellmouth with a Slayer and missing Witch and a vampire in the bath... that is certainly something to have posted on the bulletin board at the Ministry, as your current circumstances."

"Professor," Giles called from the kitchen. "You're in the presence of Buffy Summers and no doubt, the rest of the group affectionately known as the Scoobies soon enough...you'll find that there aren't enough hours in the day for all the surprises you'll receive."


Chapter 4: Of Slayers & Invisibility Cloaks

The halls of the student dormitories were silent, not a figure stirring, save one petite blonde girl who had just slipped out of her room, armed with a gleaming battle-ax and several long slivers of wood.

Panels of moonlights spread onto the floor of the hall through the large windows as she tiptoed along, trying not to disturb any students who might still be awake.

She was halfway down the stairs, on the way to the main door, when a tingle of unease shot down her spine. Something soft brushed passed her ankle and she whipped around, searching for whatever had caused it.

The hall was deserted.

"There better not be anyone here." Buffy muttered, half to herself, half to anyone who might be sneaking around - invisible - hefting her ax in her hand. "I've fought invisible things before and killed them all."

No one answered and the feeling passed.

The Slayer shrugged, continuing on her way down the staircase and out, into the grounds of the university, for her third nightly slaying session. As always, she knew there would be plenty of uglies for her to deal with.

In the hallway that she had just vacated, something very strange was happening, though.

With a rustle of soft material, a head appeared from nowhere, floating in the air. Long silver hair and the top of a silver beard surrounded the face of an old Wizard, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

"A Slayer..." He remarked to himself with a chuckle.

Somehow, it didn't really surprise Dumbledore to know that the Weasley's youngest daughter had managed to end up connected with one of the most powerful variety of muggles. Even if it was just a matter of going to the same college and living in the same dorms.

Nevertheless, he wasn't here to watch a Slayer going about her duty.

Continuing down the hallway, pulling the hood of his invisibility cloak back over his head, he came to the door of the room that should - if he remembered the address correctly - be that of the girl who was known as Willow Rosenberg.

One hand dipped into one of the capricious pockets of the cloak, withdrawing another hand-written letter sealed into a parchment envelope. This one was marked with his own seal, as opposed to that of Hogwarts.

Bending, he gently pushed the envelope under the door, unwilling to risk using too much magic while he was newly arrived on the Hellmouth. He would have to let himself adjust to the mystical imbalance he felt.

With the kinds of creatures he knew inhabited such a place, the chances of them being drawn to his power was high and he really didn't want to find himself fighting for his life again, when he was only meant to be insuring the safety of the eighth Weasley.

Returning down the moonlit hall, he exited into the main darkened grounds of the silent campus, where he could hear the sounds of fighting and the voice of the girl who had passed him on the stairs.

Making his way across the grass, he followed the sounds, rounding some bushes, where he came upon the ongoing fight.

While he had heard the rumours of Slayers and their innate physical strength and prowess, he had never seen one at work in all his many years. Now, he could understand why their reputation was so reknown in the upper circles of the Magical World.

Two large male vampires were fighting with the little muggle, but she was still beating them with a practised ease that spoke of years of doing the same. Roundhouse kicks, punches and tosses left the two vampires fallen and her stake was plunged rapidly into each heart in turn.

Straightening up and brushing the dust from her clothes, she froze, looking around. "All right, this isn't funny." She rotated full circle, looking around. "I know someone is here. Will you just come out so I can kill you already?"

Dumbledore slowly started to move backwards, away from her, fascinated by the acuteness of her senses. For a muggle to pick up specific mystical vibrations in a place filled with such a tangle of powers, it was little less than a miracle.

Hazel eyes suddenly locked onto his position and she took a step towards him. "All right, buddy. You've got til I count to five to show yourself. If you don't..." She shrugged. "I'll find you and beat you senseless any..."

A crash in the undergrowth distracted her and she whipped around as a large furry creature exploded out of the brush, lunging straight at her.

"Oz! How many times do we have to tell you to lock the cage properly?" The blonde yelled, tossing the creature that Dumbledore had recognised as a werewolf. One of her hands went behind her back and she withdrew a pistol from her belt.

The wolf, though, seemed distracted. Lips peeled back from fangs, he sniffed the air, his shaggy head swinging in the direction of the concealed Wizard. He broke towards the hidden Dumbledore, but before he got five paces, the gun was fired.

The Slayer sighed, pushing the pistol back into her belt and walking towards the tranquilised wolf. "Let's get you back to your cage." She said, bending and heaving the drugged beast over her shoulder.

She didn't kill it.

That surprised the old Wizard, as he turned and walked away in the other direction. Most normal Wizards and Muggles would simply kill a werewolf, if it had lunged out of the bushes at them when they were armed with a gun, but this demon slayer didn't.

He would have to find about that, after.

But first, he would wait until he had sorted through the situation with the young Weasley.

***

Pushing the door of the dorm open, her hair mussed and grass stains all over her clothes, Buffy hurriedly closed the door behind her, hoping that she wouldn't wake her sleeping room mate and friend.

"You're late."

Grinning apologetically at the red head, the Slayer shrugged, flicking the lights on. "Blame your hunny." She replied. "He decided that he wanted to play tag with me, so I had to put him back in his cage."

"He escaped again?" Willow groaned. "If he keeps doing this, I'm going to start considering chaining him up again." Buffy raised a brow and Willow immediately raised a hand. "Don't even think that!"

The blonde chuckled, tossing a handful of stakes and her small tranquiliser gun onto her desk, her ax propped against the wall. "Weird..." She bent down to pick up something lying on the floor at her feet. "Will, did you hear anyone outside?"

"No. Why?"

Straightening up, Buffy waved a parchment envelope. "Looks like our mysterious letter-writer dropped something for you."

"H-he was here?" Willow blanched, throwing back her blankets and swinging out of her bed, her feet landing neatly in her slippers. Crossing the floor, she snatched the envelope from Buffy and turned it over, staring at the seal. "Double 'D'." She said, eyes narrowing in confusion.

"So this guy is well endowed in the chest?" Dropping her dirt-smeared jacket on her chair, Buffy kicked her shoes off and under her bed. The red head gave her a look and the blonde grinned again. "My bad." She waited for a moment. "Are you going to open it?"

"I guess..." Breaking the seal, one eye pressed shut, as if she expected something bad to erupt from it, the young witch opened the envelope. Nothing happened, so she opened her eyes, carefully pulling the fresh parchment out. She walked back towards her bed as she read, sitting down on the mattress.

Downing half a glass of water, Buffy tilted her head as her friend's brow wrinkled. "Well?"

"Huh?"

"What does it say, Will?"

The red head looked nervously up at her friend. "He...uh...he says that he wants to meet me tomorrow." Her expression was one of worry and concern. "He's in Sunnydale and he'll drop by about noon, if that's okay with me."

"What?"

"He hasn't even left me an address so I can write to him and tell him no." The young witch re-read the letter again, her face a mask of panic.

"You don't wanna met this guy?"

"I don't know, Buffy." She smoothed the letter on her knees, raising her eyes to Buffy as she did so. "What if he's like Moloch again? What if he's a demon?"

"I could hang around when he shows up and if he turns out to be a demon jerk, I could kick his ass for you." The blonde offered, donning her nightshirt as she talked. "You can't contact him, so you might as well see him." She pulled the blanket back from her mattress, revealing a small stack of blades. "I'll wait in the hall for him and if he looks demony..." She gathered the knives from her bed with wicked grin. "That sound okay?"

Willow sighed. "I guess."

***

The room looked impeccable.

The rugs were so straight that it looked like they had been laid to measure.

The covers on the beds were flat and smooth, the pillows fluffed to perfection.

The red-haired witch was pacing frantically from one side of the room to the other, trying to feel safe in the knowledge her friend, the superhero, was prowling the hall outside. Somehow, even that didn't hold much comfort.

It was nearly noon and she kept glancing at her watch ever few seconds.

"Okay...okay...calm and cool...distraction. Need a distraction..."

She scanned the room, finding the books she had started reading after the first letter. She was halfway through the second one already. Snatching it up, she sat down on her bed, opening it to the page she had marked.

"All right..." Running her finger down to the paragraph she had reached, she pushed strands of red hair back from her eyes. "Ron and Harry have taken polyjuice potion and are on the way to the Slytherin common room..."

"Good to see you taking such an interest in our world." An amused voice said.

Willow looked up at the opposite bed and shrieked in fright, jerking back across her bed and falling straight onto the floor. "BUFFY!"

The door swung inwards, the Slayer standing there, armed and ready. "What is it?" Then she noticed what had shocked her friend.

A disembodied head was floating about three feet above her bed. It turned towards the petite blonde and smiled. "Ah, Buffy Summers." He said, blue eyes twinkling. "Would you mind shutting the door. Some people aren't so..liberal about seeing Wizards in invisibility cloaks."

"Mind telling us who you are?" The Slayer demanded coolly. "And how you got in here? And what do you mean an invisibility cloak?"

Willow had picked herself up and warily rounded the bed. "Are you...Dumbledore?"

"That I am, my dear." The head rose another couple of feet and there was a swish of material, then the most outlandishly clad body that either of the girls had ever seen came into view.

A vivid combination of crimson, emerald and sapphire, the gold-threaded velveteen robes looked expensive and wouldn't have been far out of place in an expensive television adaptation of Merlin.

"Going to give me a reason I can't kill you? Or at least beat you very hard?"

Dumbledore smiled broadly at her, as he placed a scarlet velvet cap on his head. "You could if you liked, but it really wouldn't accomplish very much, considering that I am as human as your Witch-friend here."

"But you...invisible...I mean, your head was floating and...what's that?" She pointed to the silvery sheet of fabric that he was holding.

"This is an invisibility cloak, my dear." He replied. "Many wizards in our World have them."

"You mean they're real? I mean, like in Harry Potter?" The witch cautiously approached. "May I?" He nodded, holding out the cloak. The girl carefully placed it on her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head. Moving to look in the mirror, she stared at it, but could see no trace of herself. "Wow..."

"So you were the guy watching me last night?" Buffy eyed the Wizard, recalling the odd sensations she had felt during patrol.

He folded his hands, nodding. "I'm afraid that was me. I had just been to deliver a letter to our friend, here."

"Wait a second..." Willow tugged the cloak off, staring at Dumbledore. "If you're real and this invisibility cloak is real..." She stared down at the book on her bed, sitting down heavily. "Oh God...I'm having one of those dreams again, aren't I?"

"This is no dream, Willow." Dumbledore reassured her, smiling. "Everything in those Harry Potter books is as close to reality as a muggle spy could get." A flicker of mischief shone in his eyes. "Of course, some things are purely fictional...for example, that scene with the earwax flavoured bean...I would never be foolish enough to pick a yellow bean."

"I think I need to sit down."

"Will, you are sitting down."

"Oh...good for me..."

Dumbledore, though, was eyeing the large cage that stood in the corner. "Your familiar?" He inquired, then frowned. "What happened to her to leave her a rat?" He looked across at the red head. "Was she attempting to become an animagi or did a transfiguration go wrong?"

"Uh..."

"We were going to be burned at the stake." Buffy supplied, still holding her blade. "She turned herself into a rat to escape. She turned me into a rat before."

"A bad attempt at transfiguration, then." He bent to look in at the rat. The rat stared back at him. "Do you recall the spell she used?" Willow shook her head. "Perhaps Professor McGonogall and I might be able to help her…alas, so many inaccurately performed transfigurations can never be corrected."

The Slayer looked from her friend to the old man in the strange robes. "Uh..excuse me...I still wanna know how you got in here."

"I disapparated from my Motel." The wizard cast a sidelong look at her. "It takes a lot of effort on the Hellmouth. Its very difficult to centre your power."

"You find that too?" The red head piped up, turning to look at him.

Dumbledore felt relieved that she had not been stunned into utter silence. "I am assuming that you have practised a few spells, then?" He asked, sitting down on the bed opposite her, eyeing her with interest.

It would be intersting to see how far she had got with the amateur, muggle ideas of magic and spells. Some were incredibly accurate, but only people of a magical persuasion and with enough magic in their blood could perform them.

"Uh, I've done a few charms and made a few potions." She nodded at the cage. "Amy and I were part of a small coven, but it kinda...stopped when she became a rat. It made doing spells kinda difficult, when all she could do was squeak."

Dumbledore laughed softly. "Yes, I can see how that would be a minor difficulty." He gazed at he from behind his half-moon spectacles. "Do you happen to have a wand?"

"Uh...no." Dumbledore was impressed. "Should I have?"

The old wizard nodded. "Most spells are impossible without a wand, unless you have very acute mental control and power. Tell me, can you levitate objects?" In response, Willow looked at the desk and a pen floated off it. He was surprised that she didn't even have to use an incantation. "Ah. Remarkable, most remarkable."

"That's about all I've done." The red head ducked her head, her cheeks flushing.

"Apart from resouling Angel and closing the Hellmouth a few times." Buffy added helpfully.

Dumbledore's eyes flicked from one girl to the other. "Pardon me, but could you repeat that?"

"She...resouled a vampire and closed the Hellmouth. A few times." Dumbledore's eyes had widened with astonishment, turning back to stare at the now-crimson Witch. "I guess that is a pretty big thing to do, huh?" Buffy murmured, watching his expression.

Nodding, the Wizard drew a breath and exhaled it. "Tell me, Willow, have you had any training in magic? Apart from your friends, have you met any adults witches and wizards?"

"Amy - the rat - was a witch and her mom, I guess." The red head shrugged. "There was a guy Giles knows, Ethan."

"One moment," Dumbledore held up a hand. "Giles...Ethan...Would these two be Rupert Giles and Ethan Rayne, perhaps?"

"You know Giles?" Buffy demanded, finally lowering her weapon.

A broad, bright smile had spread across the old Wizard's face. "You could say that, Miss Summers." He replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Never met a pair of scallywags who could quite match them, although James and Sirius came very close."

"So you arrested them, then?" The thought seemed to amuse the Slayer and she grinned. "I always knew that playing with weird magic stuff would get them in trouble with...uh...important magic people."

"You misunderstand me, Miss Summers." The Wizard laughed. "I didn't arrest them. Quite the opposite in fact." He smiled at the memory. "I was their House Master, teacher and Head teacher when they were at our School."

"Our school?" Willow echoed.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, his eyes dancing. "Rupert Giles and Ethan Rayne first met while attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Chapter 5: Werewolves and Demons and Wizards - Oh My!

"Giles, there's a very old man in weird clothes on your couch."

"Anya, I'm aware of this." Giles' smile looked a little strained, as he motioned the former demon and her boyfriend into the living room. Willow and Buffy were already present. "I want you all to meet Professor Dumbledore, my former Headmaster."

Xander peered at the wizard. "You must be really old if you taught G-Man."

"Please don't call me that." Giles winced.

"Actually," Dumbledore put in with a chuckle. "I am rather old...I have past my one and a half Centennial." He smiled. "if you count that as old."

"Pfft." Anya made a dismissive gesture. "That’s nothing!"

"Indeed?"

"I'm eleven hundred and twenty one."

"And you are looking very good for your age, my dear." The former demon's face split in a smile, her cheeks flushing. The old Wizard winked at her, turning to look at the young man who had joined the group.

"He said I look good for my age." Anya tugged on Xander's sleeve, grinning.

The dark-haired youth nodded. "So I heard." He replied, suspiciously eyeing the wizard. "So what are you doing here, buddy?"

Willow spoke up. "Xander, you remember all those times we used to pretend I was adopted, just cos my parents were never there?" Her lifelong friend nodded. "It...uh...it turns out that we were right."

"Huh?"

"Pretty much what I said." The red head grinned weakly. "It gets crazier. You know those Harry Potter books?"

"I was reading those." Anya put in. "I want to know how a muggle got hold of so much information, unless a wizard was the one who told her everything." Xander shushed her with a gesture, looking down at his seated friend.

"What about those books, Will?"

"They're...uh...real."

"As in 'Hansel and Gretel are a big ugly demon who wants to kill us all' real?"

"That's what I said." Buffy held up a hand. "And apparently, they're not evil and demony, no matter what some critics are saying." She nodded to the wizard. "Professor Dumbledore is the headmaster in the books."

"Which brings us back to the whole 'what are you doing here?' question."

"I have been sent by the Ministry of Magic," The bearded old man replied with a smile. "To find out if Miss Rosenberg would be interested and willing to met her biological family at some point in the future."

Xander raised a brow. "So you're not joking about the whole being adopted thing?"

"And he wanted to meet you guys cos you're muggles and you still help me." Buffy added.

"We're what-tles?"

"Muggles."

"Uh..."

"Non-magic people." Willow filled in. She looked up as the door opened, allowing a small, colourful-haired young man to enter. "Oz!"

"Hey Willow." Stoic-faced, the youth joined the group, casting his eye over Dumbledore with interest. "Huh."

"Professor, this is Oz...he's my boyfriend and a werewolf."

"The werewolf that Miss Summers tranquilised last night?" Buffy nodded and the wizard smiled, offering a hand to the guitarist, which Oz shook without even raising a brow. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

"So, Willow," Dumbledore turned back to her. "What do you intend to do?"

The red head looked at him. "I-I don't know. Do they want to meet me?"

"Your parents are hoping to meet you." The wizard replied. "Your siblings have just been told about your existence, but are very curious about you as well. Of course, there is no hurry for you to do so."

"How would I meet them? Would they come here?"

"I think that it would probably be easier for you to come and see some of the wizarding world in England, if we can arrange transport for you." He replied, eyes twinkling. "That is, if you're interested in seeing the magical parts of your homeland."

"You mean Willow is actually English?" Anya pulled a face. "I knew there was something weird about her."

"Anya," Xander cautioned gently. Then he turned to his friend. "Is she right? Are you English, like librarian guy?" He motioned to the indignant-looking Giles.

"Apparently." The red head shrugged helplessly. "I-I would like to see some of the magical places, but I can't now...I'm at college and I can't stop going or anything, so could I maybe come and visit in the vacation?"

"That would be perfectly all right." Dumbledore nodded, reaching over to squeeze the youngest Weasley's hand. "I'll send an owl for you to use, should you need to correspond with me between those times."

"An owl?"

"They are what we use to deliver our mail, Mr. Harris." Dumbledore explained patiently. "It usually guarantees it won't get lost."

"Seriously?" Xander grinned. "That sounds kinda neat."

"It is certainly a good deal simpler that trying to teleport them." Dumbledore shook his head with a sigh. "The number of important documents that I have had spontaneously combust on arrival has been quite ridiculous."

Giles raised a questioning hand. "Professor, if Willow is remaining here until vacation, what shall we do about bringing her over to the Leaky Cauldron? After all, it is frightfully hard to find if-if-if you don't know what you're looking for."

"I'm sure I can arrange access for a small number of muggles into Diagon Alley," He looked around at them. "Although something tells me that this particular group of muggles would be quite able to pass into the magical world without too much difficulty."

"Indeed..." Giles looked around at them with a smile. "They have all been involved in magic in some shape or form."

"And I was a witch." Anya put in helpfully. "That's how I ended up as a vengeance demon. I was doing a curse or two and D'Hoffryn caught up with me." She frowned. "It must have been before Hogwarts was started, because I remember hearing about it getting built. I still have my old wand."

"As do I." Giles added with a small smile. "Oak, fourteen inches, unicorn hair."

Anya blinked at him. "That's weird! Mine was oak, twelve inches with unicorn hair as well."

"And with only a thousand years in between." Dumbledore commented with a trace of amusement. "I can't imagine of all the millions of wizards in a thousand years, many would have that combination. Not at all."

"You guys really use wands?" Xander inquired. "Why doesn't Willow have a wand or something? And why they have unicorn hairs in them?"

Dumbledore chuckled, looking at Giles. "I see what you mean about them being rather perceptive, Rupert." He said, then returned his attention to Xander. "Willow doesn't have a wand, because she has never been measured for one. Most wands have a core made up of a part of a mystical creature. Some have phoenix feathers, others griffen fur. Rupert and your friend both have ones with a hair taken from the tail of a unicorn."

"Hold on a second...you're telling me unicorns are real?" Buffy looked from Anya and Giles to Dumbledore. "Nobody told me that unicorns are real."

"Most people wouldn't believe that werewolves are real either." Oz put in quietly, with a look at the Slayer.

"I guess." She nodded, then repeated questioningly. "But unicorns are real? What else? Dragons? Giants? Fairies? Elves? Trolls?" These were said with a laugh that faded as Dumbledore nodded. "You're serious?"

"I can introduce you to a rather charming half-giant in my employ, as well as some houselves, should you need proof." The Wizard smiled. "We also have some centaurs in the forest, a cave troll or two still locked in the dungeons somewhere..."

"What about hobbits?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm afraid that's from a different set of books, Mr. Harris. As far as e are aware, hobbits do not exist. They may, but not that we know of and we all know that they are, after all, very private creatures." The wizard smiled slightly. "Although I have heard from Gandalf that they make exceptional cups of tea."

"Okay, you're confusing me."

"That's what he does best." Giles said. He, too, was smiling slightly. "And you must admit, Xander, that confusing you isn't the most challenging of tasks."

"Hey!"

The small group laughed at Xander's irritation and he was quick to join in, but something said earlier had made Willow realise something.

"Professor, will I have to get a wand?"

"It is likely."

Willow frowned thoughtfully. "If I give you a substance from a powerful mystical creature," She asked. "Can you have it put into a wand for me and would it work?"

Dumbledore spread his hands in a shrug. "It all depends on what the substance is, which kind of mystical creature it came from and how powerful that creature is." He raised a brow. "What did you have in mind?"

Reaching behind Buffy, the red head tugged one of her friend's hairs loose. "Ow! Will!"

"Sorry, Buffy, but I needed it." She grinned weakly, then held out the blonde hair to the old Wizard. "Would this work?"

"I'm certain it would," Dumbledore carefully took the hair, winding it around his fingertip into a small skein and tucking it into some recess in his robes. "I'll see that Ollivander gets it and see what he makes of it."

"So I'm a mystical creature?" Suddenly, the loss of a single hair didn't seem to upset the Slayer very much. "That's kinda neat..." Then, her face fell. "As long as the wand doesn't go and blow up or something like that. If it does, it’s not my fault!"

"Don't worry, Miss Summers." Dumbledore said. "The wand only acts as it's owner wishes it to. If Willow blows something up, then its because she chose to or because the wand is not suited to her. It isn't the fault of the core power."

The Slayer blew a sigh of relief. "Okay. I can deal with that."

The wizard looked around at the small group, then at Willow. "Is there anything you wish to know about your family, Willow?" He asked. "Do you wish to get in contact them before you meet them?"

"Uh...can you tell me the regular stuff about them?" The red head asked, holding her boyfriend's hand. "How old are they all? What are they like?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm assuming you know a little about them from the books. You are the youngest and William, or Bill, is the eldest. He's eleven years older than you, a respected treasure hunter for Gringotts and is married to a young lady named Fleur."

"Charles is next in line and is seven years older than you. He and Ron work in Romania with the wild dragons." Dumbledore steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Then we have Percy, five years your elder, and employee of the Ministry. Very responsible and oddly hard-working."

"Fred and George I'm sure you have heard of. They are 3 years older than you and are quite notorious pranksters." He smiled faintly. "And – unbeknownst to your mother – they have taken over one of the most infamous Joke Shops in the wizarding world."

"Second to last, there is Ron, a year older than you and your sister. He and Charlie are very alike. Then, we have your twin sister." Dumbledore's face broke into a broad, genuine smile. "A lovely young lady and she just married Harry Potter several months ago."

"Wait a second...Harry Potter is my brother-in-law?"

"You mean he survives the rest of the books?" Anya demanded. "Now, I can't read the rest of them, since I know what happens!"

"Yes, Willow. Your twin is married to Harry Potter, making him your brother-in-law." The old wizard smiled. "So you can see that you have a rather large, extended family." Willow nodded mutely. "And as I was asking earlier, do you wish to get in contact with them?"

She chewed her lip nervously for a moment. "Would it be by owl post?"

"If you so wish."

She lowered her eyes for a moment, studying her hands. "I think it would be nice to know them a bit, before I meet them." She said briefly. "But what shall I tell my parents here? I mean, they don't even know I'm studying here, but...I need to tell them something."

"It’s entirely up to you, Willow, although it is possible that they have become so distant because the spell has worn off since they got you." The Wizard spoke quietly, pensively. "Either something happened to the spell caster or they thought it no longer necessary to hold the spell in place."

The red head frowned. "Who was it that cast the spell...I mean, who was it that stole me and who was the one that gave me to my parents?"

"The one who took you was a wretch by the name of Peter Pettigrew." Dumbledore replied quietly. "His sister, Sheila, had relocated here because she believed she had the strength to use the powers of the Hellmouth. Fortunately, she overestimated her abilities." He smiled slightly. "She was no stronger than the average Witch, so nothing serious occurred. The biggest test of her powers came when her brother delivered you to her and they both had to combine their minimal talents to adjust your parents' memories."

Willow frowned. "I don't know anyone called Sheila Pettigrew." She remarked, her brow wrinkling in thought.

"It is possible that she changed her name." Dumbledore admitted. "However, whatever happened to her, it doesn't matter anymore. The Ministry has found you and nothing she could do would be able to hide you. She simply doesn't have enough power."

The red head nodded. "So, no matter what happens when you go back, the Ministry of Magic will know where I am?"

"Exactly."

"Can I write a letter for you to take back with you, then? I mean, it might take me a while, but I want to send something..."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm sure that will be fine." He folded his hands in his lap. "Professor McGonagall is, no doubt, keeping everything under control at Hogwarts, while I am here, so there is no hurry."

"Old MacGonagall is still there?" Giles shook his head with a laugh. "I thought she would have retired after she got rid of Ethan, Art and I."

"She's had two pairs that were almost as bad as you, since then, Rupert." Dumbledore reminded him jovially. "You just prepared her for the worst that any student could possibly throw at her."

Giles sniffed in mock-disdain. "I wasn't the one that turned her into a broomstick and flew her out for the Quidditch game."

"No, you were the genius behind it, though." Dumbledore was laughing, a deep chuckle. "You would suggest something that sounded mildly amusing and both of those young rogues would leap at the chance to play it out."

"And McGonagall only let us off because she was the broom that won the game."

"Oh yes..." Dumbledore released a soft boom of laughter. "I've never seen a Seeker's Broom actually spot the Snitch for him and take him to it. Poor Arthur. I'm not certain he was even sure what was going on."

"Wait a minute...is this the same Professor McGonagall in the books?"

"Indeed it is, Willow."

"And you," She turned to Giles. "Turned her into a broomstick?"

"It wasn't me!" Giles protested with a laugh. "Ethan was the expert at transfiguration. He caught her off-guard and the next thing you know, we have a broomstick in front of us. I never imagined he would be able to pull it off so quickly."

"Whatever happened to the old boy?"

Giles' smile faded. "You really don't want to know." Dumbledore nodded, the twinkle fading briefly from his eyes.

"Well," He struggled to his feet, steering his robes around the various limbs that were sticking out here, there and everywhere. "I ought to get back to the Motel and pay my bills. I have an owl or two to send before I return to Hogwarts. I'll come by here again this evening, if you have the letter ready, Willow."

"Sir," The red head stood up, holding out a hand to the wizard, which Dumbledore shook with a warm smile. "Can I ask one thing more?"

"Of course, child."

"What's my name?"

Dumbledore glanced down briefly, then met her eyes. "They called you Sarah, child. If you choose to keep this name or the name you have now, it is up to you."

"Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome."

 

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