The Eighth Weasley

By Fyre

Chapter 21: The Hogwarts Express

“MERLIN!” Running across the bedroom floor, pursuing her renegade owl, Willow ran onto the bed, grabbing at him, as he deliberately avoided her, clearly not wanting to return to his cage. “Stay still, you stupid bird!”

“You really have a way with animals, Will.” Ron chuckled. He had been the one to lug her trunk down the stairs a few moments earlier, leaving her to try and capture Merlin, who hooted from his spot by the lampshade.

“D’you want to do something useful, instead of just standing there and making smart remarks?” Her red hair wild around her rosy face, hands on her denim-clad hips, she looked down at him.

“I am doing something useful.” Her brother replied, grinning up at her. “I’m making your room look good by honouring it with my presence.” Still, he did walk into the room and shut the door behind him. “Right, you little sod...send the bird this way.”

“Ron!”

“Kidding, Will.” He laughed, but didn’t quite duck in time.

A pillow hit him squarely in the face.

“Right!” Catching the pillow, he gave his sister a wicked grin. “It’s war!”

“Ron! No!” Backing across the bed, she looked down frantically, stooping to grab another pillow, only for the one in her brother’s hands to crash down on her head, sending her tumbling on the rumpled blankets. “RON!”

Pausing mid-swing, he frowned. “What?”

“Nothing!” Her second pillow hit him in the face. At such close range, it exploded sending a cloud of feathers into the air, as she leapt for another pillow, her brother’s hand grabbing her ankle. “RON!”

“That’s me!” He laughed, whapping her soundly across the head with the pillow, before starting to tickle the bare strip of belly that had been revealed when her pale pink baby-T had ridden up.

“Noooooooo!” Shrieking, Willow tried to kick out at her brother, but he had pinned down her legs and tickled her mercilessly, leaving her giggling and breathless. “Stop it! Stop!”

“Willow, what’s going on in...” Molly Weasley trailed off, two of her three youngest children staring at her, both red in the face, laughing and covered from head to toe in white, fluffy feathers. “Oh, for goodness sake, you two...”

Squirming out from beneath Ron, giving him a shove that dropped him onto the floor, Willow smoothed her hair. “He started it, mom! I was trying to catch Merlin and he wouldn’t help!”

“Uh-huh!” Sitting up on the floor, he wagged a finger at her. “Who threw the pillow at my head, Little Miss Innocent?”

Willow scowled up at him. “But you were standing, making with the not-funnies and not helping and then I had a pillow and it went poof and feathers went everywhere and you started tickling me and then everything was a mess.” She gave her mother a helpless look. “Oops?”

“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now.” Molly sighed, almost smiling at Ron’s indignant expression. “Have you got your owl into his cage? Your father has finished packing the car and we‘re just waiting for you.”

“Actually, tiny problem.” She pointed upwards, where Merlin was perched on the lampshade, hooting happily.

Molly Weasley stepped into the room, avoiding feathers where she could. “You’ll have to train him up, dear.” She remarked, then called up to the owl. “Merlin, you get your feathery tail into that cage now, or Willow will never feed you again!”

In a blink, the owl had shot down from the ceiling and straight into his cage, gold eyes gleaming in Willow’s direction.

Approaching the cage, Willow shut the door firmly. “I might not feed you anyway, cos you were being annoying.” She tried to sound convincing. Merlin gave a plaintive hoot. Willow’s resolve crumbled. “But you’re so cute!”

Shaking her head, Mrs Weasley smiled. “You’re too soft, Willow, dear.” She said, gesturing for Willow and Ron to go to the door. “You’re really going to have to teach that bird some discipline.”

“Yes, mom.”

“And Ronald,”

“Yes, mum?”

“You’ll be clearing this up when we get back.”

“Aw, mum!”

***

“I don’t get it.” Standing on platform nine, looking across the barrier to platform ten, Willow shook her head. “There can’t be a hidden door there.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly a door, dear.”

Along with her parents and Ron - all her other siblings at work - Willow Weasley stood on the spot where Platform 9 and 3/4 was. Allegedly. Staring at the solid barrier between the platforms, she shook her head again.

It was the 31st of August, the date that had been in her formal letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, and now, she was still trying to convince herself that she could walk onto an invisible platform through a border of metal without being noticed.

Her mother had explained that they had been forced to change the departure date because of all the muggles who were determined they could cross the barrier on the morning of September 1st, as detailed in the Rawlings books.

Ron quietly had added that he had gone on the 1st, the previous year, just to watch numerous deluded muggles walking straight into the metal barrier and almost knock themselves out. He had found it hilarious.

“D’you want me to go through first?” Her brother asked. “It’s not hard.”

“Looks hard to me.” Willow mumbled.

“I mean crossing through it, not the actual barrier.” Stepping around her, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Just watch what I do, then follow me through, right?” She nodded dubiously, watching intently.

Casually, Ron strolled to the barrier and leaned against it, shooting a grin back at his sister. The red-haired witch uttered a squeak of surprise when he seemed to just fall through it.

“It worked!”

“Of course it worked, Willow.” Arthur said. “Like he said, it isn’t as hard as you’d imagine.” He held out a hand to her, which Willow grasped like a child on their first day of school would, directing a question at her mother. “Molly, can you bring the trolley through after us?”

“Just make sure you get through safely.” Molly nodded.

Leading their daughter to the barrier, Arthur Weasley looked down at her. “Are you ready, Willow?” She nodded nervously. “Don’t worry. You’ll get through fine.” Side-by-side, they leaned on the barrier, as if looking at the train on the other side.

“What do we doooooooo!” Willow couldn’t help crying out as the sturdy support she was leaning on seemed to give way and she pitched forward in a swirl of metal, brick and darkness.

Two pairs of hands caught her, when she was convinced she was about to tumble and land on her face. Looking up, she found her father holding her right arm and Ron hold her left.

“Uh...did it work?” She straightened up, embarrassed.

“What do you think, Will?” Ron nodded ahead of them and Willow’s mouth fell open in awe.

They were inside some kind of enormous cavernous railway station, high, dark walls towering on all sides, the platform cluttered with witches and wizards armed with trunks, owls, cats and toads.

Purplish smoke and steam billowed around them as Ron and Arthur led her out onto the bustling platform around several robe-clad witches who were trying to bundle their illusive offspring into carriages, her eyes trying to take in everything at once.

Everything was dusky and softly-lit by the flickering lampposts, but it didn’t look gloomy, foreboding or at all frightening. It had an air of magic and mystery, which hung over the whole concealed platform.

That was when she saw it, just a little way ahead of her. While she had read the books about their world voraciously, she had never imagined the Hogwarts Express to look so...wow!

Brilliant red in colour, it was surrounded by the swirling smoke and steam that didn’t make it look less impressive. If anything, it made it look more spectacular, the metalwork gleaming and glinting by the light of lamp posts on the platform.

“You got through all right, dear?” Molly bustled up behind them, steering the trolley which was laden down with Willow’s dark brown, brass-bound trunk. Willow could only nod, staring at the train. “Well, come on then! We better find you somewhere to sit before all the seats are taken.”

Mouth hanging open, Willow allowed herself to be steered along between knots of families, who were ushering their youngsters onto the train.

Ron was pointing out windows in the different carriages. “And that’s the place me and Harry first met, on the way to Hogwarts in first year...” He grinned. “And this one is where I got Pig...”

“And they have a witch with a buffet car, who should serve you at some point on the journey.” Her mother was talking on her other side, most of it passing straight through Willow’s head, her attention riveted on everything she was seeing.

Teeming everywhere, young witches and wizards - clad in robes and muggle-wear - aged between eleven and eighteen were hugging parents, siblings and loved ones, as they climbed into the compartments of the train, some gathering in groups of friends.

Never in her life had she imagined seeing so many trainee witches and wizards. It seemed such a surreal experience to be watching them laughing and talking together like normal children on their way to school.

“Ah! Here we go!”

“Huh?” Looking in the direction her father was pointing, Willow spotted a little sign sealed in the window. Her eyes bugged. It read. “Reserved for the personal use of Miss Willow Weasley.”

“Blimey, Will, you’ve got friends in high places!” Ron remarked, shaking his head, as their father opened the door of the carriage, the brass handle gleaming. The interior of the cabin was impeccable, the patterned blue, red and green fabric of the seats vibrant. “They even cleaned them for you! That’s a first!”

“They...they gave me a special compartment?” Willow was stunned. Her father was already heaving her trunk up, into the compartment. With a little help from Ron, they shunted it under one of the seats. “But...but I don’t deserve anything special.” She looked helplessly at her mother. “Why’d they give me something like this? I should sit with everyone else!”

“Well, you are a little older than most of the pupils, Willow.” Molly reminded her gently. “And you do deserve a little special treatment, after all your time away from the magic world.”

“But I’ll be on my own...”

“Not entirely on your own.” A quiet voice spoke from behind them. Willow turned, startled, a delighted smile illuminating her face. Professor Lupin returned the smile with one of his own small ones, so similar to Oz’s. His eyes twinkled. “That is, if you don’t mind me invading your private booth.”

“No! Of course not! I mean, no, I don’t mind! I didn’t want to be sitting on my own and now, here you are! On your own! And I’m on my own too and we can, you know, sit together and we can talk about stuff...well, I can talk, and you can sit and be all stoic and quiet and...”

“And she starts babbling before she even gets on the train.” Another voice added, amused. “Somehow, I shouldn’t have been surprised.” Willow’s eyes flicked over Lupin’s shoulder and she released a squeal of glee.

“Hermione!”

Accepting a brief hug from the youngest Weasley, Hermione grinned and wagged a finger at Willow. “That’s Professor Granger to you, Weasley.”

“Yeah, right, Hermione.” Willow returned the grin. “Do you wanna sit with me and Professor Lupin?”

“Remus.” Professor Lupin corrected gently.

“Right,” Willow smiled at him. “Remus...”

Looking at the compartment, Hermione nodded. “Well, considering that Remus and I were meant to apparate straight to the school, I suppose we can force ourselves to tolerate your company for a few hours instead.”

“You came to keep me company?”

“Actually, I came for the cauldron cakes.” Remus said, his eyes twinkling.

Willow couldn’t help smiling broadly at him. “And there I was, thinking that you liked me, but nope!” She pointed at him in mock-accusation. “Traitorous lover of cauldron cakes!”

“Poor, neglected baby, aren’t you, Will?” Ron wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on top of her head. “You’re just going to have to bug the knickers off these two Professors, to make them change their mind about not liking you.”

“I can do that.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, wonderful.” She groaned. “Just give her ideas, Ron.”

“That’s all part of the cunning plan, Hermione.” He winked at her, raising a smile out of his ex-girlfriend. “Right, Will, we better let you get on and settled. The train leaves in a tick.”

“You’ll write to me?” Turning to give him a hug, she looked up at him.

“Only if you do the same for me.” He glanced towards the van where the owls were loaded in their cages, his face twisting slightly. “And only if you can catch Merlin and I can catch Pig.”

“Deal.” She laughed. “Mom? Dad?”

“We’ll come and see you if you want us to, dear.” Molly hugged her tightly. “Please let us know that everything is all right.”

“I will. I love you, mom.” She reluctantly released her mother, immediately being grabbed in an embrace by her father, who said nothing, but just held her tightly for a long moment. “I love you too, dad.” She whispered.

Drawing back, his eyes misted with tears, he smiled. “Do us proud, Willow, like you were always meant to.” He paused, then added. “And make sure to play at least one prank a month...”

“Arthur! Don’t you listen to your father, Willow!”

“And you said you didn’t know why the other twins are the way they are!” Laughing, Willow hugged each of them once more, then clambered up the small steps and into the compartment, Professors Lupin and Granger following her.

Arthur slammed the door shut for them, Willow leaning out of the window to wave to them as the train started to move.

“Have fun, Will! Don’t cause too much trouble!” Ron yelled as the train started to pull away from the platform. “And if you get put into Slytherin, make sure you show ‘em not to pick on a Weasley!”

Leaning out a little further, she waved a proud fist in the air as she yelled back. “I’m a Gryffindor, baby!”

Ron shouted something back, but she was too far away to hear what it was. She could guess, though, by the fact that their mother immediately grabbed him and hosed out his mouth with her wand.

She continued to wave until the train rounded the corner, out of the station and onto the open rails, and her parents and brother vanished out of sight.

***

“I wish you could have met everybody, when they were here.” Willow was sitting between Remus and Hermione, her collection of muggle photographs being shown to the pair of Professors.

They had been travelling for several hours, when Lupin had raised a question about Oz, surprising both of them with the fact that he actually spoke, as well as starting a new thread in the conversation.

In response, Willow had hunted out her photograph album from her trunk, eagerly pointing out Oz in all of the pictures, then each of her group of friends, pangs of loneliness and reminiscence hitting her.

Hermione had been fascinated by Buffy, the Slayer. She had an immense list of questions, which she immediately whipped out, written in her neat script on several sheets of parchment.

They were about where a Slayer’s strength came from, why a certain person would be chosen as a Slayer, who decided what were true Slayer-related prophesies, why certain watchers were assigned certain slayers and many more questions that Willow had no clue about the answer to.

For her part, though, Willow was grateful for something that would allow her to talk about her friends. She was starting to miss them a lot, now. It had been weeks since she had seen them and she hoped she would be able to get at least Oz to visit soon.

“So she started fighting demons when she was fifteen?”

“I think so. Or just before she had her birthday.” Willow answered eagerly. “I met her when she moved to Sunnydale. I thought she was like all the other...uh...cool girls in the school, but she actually spoke to me about being study buddies.” She paused to drink from her bottle of pumpkin juice. “Oh! And then she saved my life! We kinda had to become friends after that.”

“Was this during the harvest in 1997?”

Willow choked on the Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Bean she was chewing. “How do you know about that?”

“I read about it.”

“You never fail to surprise me, Hermione. Even when I know what I should expect, you’ve surprised me.” Both witches stared at Lupin. He looked as calm and unruffled as ever. “Oh.” He added, noticing their stares. “This is my surprised face.”

Shaking her head, Hermione glanced at Willow, who had clapped her hand to her mouth to smother her giggles. Slowly, the Muggle Studies teacher started to smile, then laugh along with the red head.

Then, much to their surprise, Lupin joined in.

“Let me guess,” Willow laughed. “That’s your amused face?”

Twinkling eyes met hers. “How could you tell?”

“Call it a wild guess.” She rested her head on his shoulder, patting his arm. “I think it could have been the smile that gave you away...”

Lupin tutted, as if disappointed that he had given himself away. “I’ll have to work on that, won’t I? Can’t start showing facial expressions on a regular basis. It may scare people.” Resting his cheek against the top of her head, he winked down at her.

“And they call it puppy love...” Hermione started to sing under her breath, not even looking at them, but with a visible smirk on her lips.

“Hey!” Willow protested, laughing. “I have a puppy already!” Hermione turned to her, looking from Willow’s position to Lupin’s. Saying nothing, she simply raised an eyebrow and Willow pulled a face at her.

“She’s just jealous.” Lupin muttered, unheard by Hermione.

Willow, however, heard, and immediately burst out laughing again.

Giving Lupin a dirty look, Hermione inquired. “What did you say, Remus?”

“Me?” His face once more expressionless, he gazed at her. “What makes you think I said anything, Professor Granger?”

Hermione’s brow rose again. “You’re blank faced and when someone is in hysterics near you, it isn’t usually a good thing.” Both of Remus’ brows rose, making him look even more helpless and innocent than before. “Professor Lupin...”

“I simply commented that you might be wanting a puppy of your own, Professor Granger, nothing more.”

Smothering a chuckle, Hermione returned her attention to her notes. “I’m sure...”


Chapter 22: Hogwarts Bound

“We’re going to leave you with Hagrid, so you can go across the lake on the boats, if that’s all right with you, Willow.” Hermione was helping Willow straighten her robes, which she had just donned, the red-haired witch’s face white as she tried to do up the buttons with shaking fingers.

“Yeah...yeah, that’ll be good...I’ve heard the castle is neat with all the lights and towers and cliffy stuff and...” She whimpered. “Oh god...what if the boat sinks? What if I don’t even make it to the school? What if the sorting hat doesn’t like me? What if it tells me to go home? What if everyone laughs at me and...”

Lupin’s hands came down on her shoulders, as reassuring as Oz’s touch. “You’re going to be fine, Willow.” He soothed. “You’re a Weasley and no Weasley was ever rejected from Hogwarts.”

“Fred and George almost got themselves kicked out a few times.” Hermione volunteered, reaching up to smooth Willow’s slightly mussed hair. She smiled at the red-haired witch. “But I don’t think you’re quite like them.”

“You really think I can do this?” Willow asked hopefully, staring at Hermione.

The older witch nodded with a smile. “Willow, with you, I believe you could do anything you wanted.” Brushing a loose lock of the red hair back from Wllow’s face, she touched her cheek gently. “They’re going to love you.”

“Even Snape?” Her brows rose.

Lupin coughed. “That might be asking for a miracle.”

“Well, Mister, you’re looking at Willow Weasley! She who can do anything!” Her over-acted enthusiasm made them both smile. Willow looked down at herself, touching her robes. “Oh God...I’m actually doing it...well, not it it,” She corrected herself hastily. “But it! Going to Hogwarts!”

“That you are.” Lupin murmured, as the train shuddered to a halt. “But now, come on. We’ll take you to Hagrid. He’s been dying to meet you.”

“Uh-huh?”

Willow’s nervous squeak made Hermione laugh and she caught the younger witch’s fingers, squeezing them reassuringly. “Don’t worry about Hagrid. He looks terrifying, but he’s an angel.”

“Right...giant angel...got it...”

“Firs’ years!” They heard the booming voice before they had even exited their private compartment, Hermione keeping a grip on Willow’s hand in case the youngest Weasley froze, as she had when they suggested she should get her robes. “Firs’ years, this way!”

“C’mon, Willow!” Pulling her friend out of the carriage, the muggle-born witch led Willow out onto the bustling platform.

Above them, the sky was clear and dark as deep blue velvet, stars spotted here and there, a few wisps of cloud swirling around the moon, which shone like a new penny high above them. It was fairly cool, because it was so clear, but Willow’s robes were thick enough to keep her warm, although the breeze was chilly on her cheeks.

The station was fairly small and looked like it had been taken right out of an old-fashioned movie, fields and hills visible in the distance, beyond the tracks they had just travelled down.

Willow stared around in awe, almost knocked off her feet by pupils of various ages hurrying towards the horseless coaches that stood just outside the station, chatter and the sounds of feet tinted wit the flapping of robes.

“A’ righ’, Hermione?” The thunderous voice of the giant reached them , distracting her, as she was dragged along the platform towards the main light, which turned out to be a large lantern held aloft by an enormous, hairy man.

“Hello, Hagrid.” Locking her hands around Willow‘s arm, Hermione hauled her forward, Willow making a faint whimpering sound as she tilted her head back to stare UP at the giant man.

Brilliant black eyes twinkled behind the wiry mass of hair and fixed on Willow’s face, a huge hand reaching out towards her. “Is...surely this can’ be...” He bent a little closer and stared at her. “Good grief!”

The lantern was thrust into Hermione’s hands, almost dragging her to the ground with it’s weight, as Willow was lifted off the ground in a giant’s embrace. The red-haired girl managed to utter a squeak, her face buried in thick, bristly beard.

“By ‘eck Sarah...Willow...I ‘aven‘t seen yer since yer were a baby...yer mum brought yer ter visit...” He placed her back on her feet carefully, his massive hands still on her shoulders. “They told me yer would be comin’ ter Hogwarts but they didn’ tell me how much ye’d grown...or how pretty ye were...”

Willow blushed to the tips of her ears. “Um...yeah...that’s me...all-grown-up Willow. no more weeny baby Willow anymore. All big and grown and everything...not so much with the pretty, but hey...”

Hagrid chuckled a deep, booming laugh, as he clapped her shoulder, making her legs buckle. “Yer just like yer sister was.” He said, the expression in his dark eyes warm and friendly. Willow found herself liking him already.

“We’ll be off now.” Hermione said, giving Willow a quick hug. “We’ll see you at the castle, all right?” The youngest Weasley nodded, swallowing hard, as Lupin and Granger both melted into the crowd of pupils and vanished.

“Any more firs’ years?” Hagrid bellowed, keeping Willow close beside him, his hand light, but a comfortable weight on her shoulder. Several more children hurried along, looking terrified. “Firs’ years, this way! Follow me!”

They started out of the gates and Willow felt Hagrid squeeze her shoulder. Raising a hand, she grabbed his, barely able to even wrap her small hand round one of his large fingers. He beamed down at her.

“Mind yer step.” He called back to the group following behind them. “Stay close ter me, Willow. I’ll make sure ye get there all right.” She nodded, as he lead them on into the darkness and suddenly the path seemed to plunge out from beneath her.

Hagrid’s arm stabilised her and she heard him yelling cautions back to the other first years, as they descended a rough, rocky path. She was sure she could feel roughly-hewn steps beneath her feet, but didn’t want to risk looking down in case there was no side to the path and she plunged over the edge.

Gravel rattled beneath her stumbling feet and her hands were starting to go numb with the cold, as she pressed against Hagrid’s side, when she felt him squeeze the hand that was still held in his.

“Look ahead.” He murmured as quietly as he could, his beard tickling her ear. “Yer just about ter see Hogwarts.”

Reluctantly raising her head, she opened her eyes fully and looked up as they came around a shadowy crag and her mouth fell open in wonder as Hogwarts came into view for the first time.

It had been described amazingly in the books, but nothing, not a word of what Rowlings had written, had prepared her for how incredibly the building looked, even from a distance.

Across a black lake, upon which the reflection of the round moon rippled, the castle - spiked with turrets and towers of all shapes and sizes - perched on top of a high mountain, pinpricks of light shining where windows were, the black silhouette strikingly clear against the deep blue of the sky.

“Wow...” She managed to whisper, as they continued down the path, ripples of awe and exciting reaching her from the huddle of excited eleven-year-olds who were crowding behind them.

“S’pretty impressive, eh?” Hagrid murmured appreciatively. “I’ve seen it every year for years, but ye have to admit its somethin’ special seein’ it just like’ that.” He cast a twinkling looked down at her. “Yer lucky it isn’ rainin’ this year.”

“I’ll say.” Willow answered, shivering a little, her teeth clattering together.

They made their way down towards a small fleet of boats that were bobbing gently at the shoreline, each with a small lamp at the prow, the giant calling out that only four people were allowed to a boat and he reluctantly informed Willow that she would have to sit with someone else because their combined weight would be too much for the small boat.

“No biggie!” She cast a feather-light charm on herself with a quick gesture. “See! I weigh the same as a feather now.” Hagrid gave her a dubious look, but when she held out a hand, he tugged lightly and hoisted her off her feet.

“Blimey, Willow, where’d ye learn a trick like tha’? I doub’ half the Professors at Hogwarts’ll know tha’ spell, specially without an incantation or summat.” He said, as he let her clamber into the boat and onto the seat in front of him, her body sandwiched between his immense knees.

The boat started to move with a gesture from the giant and she tilted her head back to look at him.

“Oh, it’s an easy one. I found it in a book in a store in Sunnydale.” She grinned up at him. “Kinda useful for when I was sneaking out of the house to help Buffy. I was so light no one could hear me creeping out.”

The giant looked down at her disapprovingly. “Ye could have got hur’, Willow.” He said, the genuine concern in his voice making her feel guiltier than knowing she had disobeyed her parents.

“But I didn’t.” She leaned back against his chest, a little surprised when he wrapped his arms around her. With his heavy, furry coat, her felt warmth returning to her cold arms and legs, as they neared the cliffs at the base of the mountain.

“Heads down everyone!” Hagrid called out, ducking down over Willow as they swept through a trailing curtain of ivy into an opening in the dark cliff-face, bobbing into a dark tunnel.

The narrow, gloomy tunnel didn’t seem too long, opening out into a small, enclosed harbour built into the rock, which Willow guessed was somewhere deep beneath the castle’s foundations.

Ahead of them, a flight of stone steps opened up into the castle’s grounds, the grass washed a silvery blue in the moonlight, as Hagrid lead the way towards the enormous oak front door.

Raising an immense fist, he knocked twice.

Immediately, the doors swung inwards, revealing the person who Willow had been expecting, Professor McGonagall. As Hagrid introduced the group as ‘the firs’ years’ and departed, Willow could feel the Professor’s intense green eyes on her face.

Those eyes remained on her face, making the red head feel slightly uncomfortable as she and the rest of the first years were informed that they would be taken into the Great Hall and sorted into their houses, leading them into the waiting hall.

Having memorised the speech from the Harry Potter books, Willow looked around in wonder, at the walls and windows of the building above them. Everything looked like it was magical, even the shapes of the arched windows and domed ceilings.

Faces moved around in the pictures on the walls and she almost reached out to pet a small cat that was pawing at the frame of the picture it was in. A wizened witch was staring at her, so she stuck her tongue out, moving on to the next picture.

The witch darted through the frame and stared at her from there as well.

Turning her attention away from the witch, Willow glanced at a landscape painting where a short Knight in rusty and grass-stained armour was chasing after a fat pony and she giggled, remembering he was Sir Cadogan, notorious because of his role in the whole entry-of-Sirius-Black-with-a-knife-to-Gryffindor-Tower, years before.

Her eyes were trying to take in everything: the black and white checked floor, the marble staircases and banisters, the colours, the smells. She didn’t know how she could tell, but the place even smelled of magic.

The aura of the place...

Closing her eyes, she inhaled a breath.

Not only was there power - fresher and cleaner than she had felt on the Hellmouth, almost like fresh laundry that had been dried outside on a Spring day - but there was such a sense of wondrous peace.

She just wanted to immerse herself in it, as it tingled through her skin, an expression of bliss on her face.

By the time McGonagall returned into the Hall, to assess whether they were ready or not, many of the first years were staring at Willow, wonderingly, as if longing to ask why all of the teachers they had seen so far were acting so oddly around the solitary, red-haired adult in the midst.

“Are you retarded?” Several of the children gasped as someone spoke up, the question directed at Willow.

Shaking herself out of her meditation on the place, Willow looked around to find a small boy studying her. He wasn’t staring at her as if she was a freak, but more as if she were a genuine curiousity. “Wh-what?”

“Are you retarded? Were you kept back? Is that why you’re starting late?”

Willow shook her head. “N-no, actually. I was meant to start nine years ago.” A nervous smile crossed her face. “They didn’t know where I was...I-I was living on a Hellmouth so they couldn‘t find me.”

“I know who you are!” A tawny-skinned boy with glasses said, eagerly pushing his way forward. The red head was immediately reminded of Hermione’s attitude in the first Harry Potter books. “I’ve read all about you! You’re the missing Weasley!”

Gasps went up among the other pupils and Willow suddenly understood how Harry felt, when people reacted to his name. She could feel the burning blush rising in her cheeks as she nodded in assent.

“I-I-I prefer to be called Willow cos, hey! Not missing any more.”

“You...you really lived on a Hellmouth?” A girl demanded.

“Was it scary?”

“Did you see demons?”

“Have you been bitten by a vampire?”

“Are you really dating a werewolf?”

Willow raised her hands, trying to fend off all the questions at once. “Whoa, whoa whoa! Hold on!” She pleaded, looking around at them. “Just plain, old, ordinary speak-one-line-at-a-time Willow here...I can answer questions, but one at a time.”

They immediately all started to ask at once, again.

“Okay, yes, I lived on a Hellmouth and it was pretty scary, but not as scary as I heard Snape-guy here can be.” A few giggles sounded from her audience, who apparently had heard all about the various teachers. “Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of demons...fought a few as well. Yes, I was bitten once and yes, my boyfriend is a werewolf. He saved me from the vampire who bit me.”

“Wicked.” A small, dark-skinned boy whispered in awe.

“Actually, good. I’m not wicked...accidentally saw wicked, skanky vampire me once and...” She pulled a face. “Its not of the good and homely variety.”

“Ahem.” All faces turned back to the doorway, where McGonagall stood once again, an odd twinkle in her eyes. She smiled specifically at Willow, which was as scary as her stare. “We’re ready for you now.”


Chapter 23: Sorted

The wave of voices from the Great Hall hit the first years as the huge door swung open, allowing Willow Weasley, and the rest of the first years, to have her first view of the massive chamber, her eyes immediately flicking upwards to see if the ceiling was really as amazing as it sounded.

It was.

Ho boy, it was!

High above them, the moon shone down on the proceedings, stars dotted across the dark sky. Only if you looked very, very closely at it and ignored the puffs of silvery cloud could you see the high gables of the arched roof.

Candles hung in this air, long, thin and white, flickering with warm light. Hundreds of welcoming faces smiled at them from the four rows of tables lining the long hall, between which, they had to walk down the full length of the Hall.

Her eyes moving from the carved stone walls, to the elaborate windows and back to the ceiling and those magic candles that were bobbing in the air, Willow had to be poked in the back by one of the children behind her, before she started to move forwards, at the head of the group, the rest of them split into pairs.

She was still staring wonderingly around her, as she walked down, trying to take in everything at once, barely even noticing the voices whispering to each other as she passed the long tables.

"You don't think..."

"Nah...couldn't be..."

"Weasley...lost one..."

They came to a halt at the front of the hall, where a ragged, pointed hat sat on a three-legged stool. If you squinted at it, with your eyes half-closed, it really did look like it had a face.

The folds and creases moved, as the hall fell into silence and a tear along one side opened up. Lifting her eyes from the hat on the stool, Willow looked up towards the teacher's table, looking for familiar face, as the Sorting Hat began it's song.

Hagrid immediately waved down at her. Next to him, Lupin gave her a nod and a laconic raise of an eyebrow, making her grin, her eyes moving onto the witch next to him, who looked like she had jumping beans in her skirt.

Hermione's face was alight and she was smiling broadly down at Willow, her hands clasped in front of her chest. She appeared to be willing to leap over the teacher's table to run down and hug Willow.

"We've got a surprise for you!" She mouthed to the red-haired witch.

A prickle of nervousness ran down her neck. They weren't going to sabotage the Sorting Hat or anything, were they? Noticing her friend's look of apprehension, Hermione winked at her, still smiling as widely as ever.

Forcing herself to stop staring Hermione as if she suspected her to be mad and dangerous, she moved along the table, easily identifying Professor Flitwick, who was staring at her, wide-eyed, Professor Sprout and guessing on Professor Sinistra.

Another familiar face appeared in her line of sight and she doubled over, laughing out loud.

Clad in robes of baby blue and rose pink velvet, a pink carnation pinned to his blue cap, as she had challenged him to wear at the Weasley's family dinner party weeks before, Professor Dumbledore gave her a nod of acknowledgement, the twinkle in his blue eyes more pronounced than ever.

Moving onwards, she stopped short at a face she had never seen before, but knew none-the-less.

Professor Snape.

He looked just the same as he had in the description in the first of the books, his hair lank and greasy around his sallow face, his nose hooked and very Roman-like, but it wasn't as big as she expected, that was for sure.

For some reason, she had the image of him with a nose that took up almost all of his face, but no, there it was. All Roman and aquiline and currently flaring in the nostril region, which was very hard to miss, because they were very large nostrils.

She snickered, but it faded when she realised that - despite the fact that his eyes were half-closed - he was watching her.

Like the other teachers, he was studying her, but there was no emotion that she could see in his pale features, his black eyes locked onto her face. It was almost like he was taking her apart with those creepy, dark eyes.

Swallowing hard, she stared back at him.

He kept right on staring.

Willow pursed her lips, feeling annoyed, not even listening to the song that the hat was singing, applauding along with the rest, although she was still staring rudely back at Professor Snape.

As McGonagall started to read out the list of names, Willow put her hands on her hips, glaring at Snape. His upper lip curled up and one of his bushy, black eyebrows rose a little, as if challenging her to do something about the staring.

Now, that annoyed her!

No one challenged a Weasley and lived...well, yeah, they lived, but still...

Although she knew it was immature, Willow stuck out her tongue at him.

There was a snort of laughter from the other end of the table, which the Weasley girl knew was Hermione. She could also hear a low rumble, which suggested that Hagrid was watching as well.

Much to her surprise, the sneer on Snape's face vanished, an almost...amused look sliding onto his face. Amused? Snape?

She heard a ripple of laughter from further up the Great Hall, blushing. Apparently, because she was taller than most of her fellow first-year pupils, her antics hadn't gone unnoticed by the Senior pupils.

Clearing her throat, she turned back to the Sorting, to find Professor McGonagall regarding her, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Um..." She gave the teacher what she hoped was a helpless look, pointing at Snape. "He started it."

Unfortunately for Willow, the acoustics of the Hall carried her voice to every ear, even those who belonged to pupils who hadn't seen what was going on, and the whole Hall exploded with laughter.

Willow felt heat rising up her neck, her cheeks tingling and hot, and knew her face was probably as red as her hair. Grinning awkwardly, she waved around, before ducking her head and letting her hair cover her face.

"While I am sure that is a valid argument, Miss Weasley," Again a rush of whispers swept around the Hall at her name, but Professor McGonagall ignored them. "Please allow me to continue with the sorting, then you can pull faces at out staff to your heart's content."

Despite the severe tone in the serious witch's voice, there was a gleam of a smile in her green eyes, which made the youngest Weasley feel a little better, although no less embarrassed.

"Mzimba, Leon." The tawny-faced boy with round, black-framed glasses similar to her brother-in-law's, who had recognised her outside, darted forward and bounced down onto the stool with so much enthusiasm that Willow was astounded that it didn't shatter.

The hat was placed on his head and immediately called out Gryffindor.

McGonagall continued through the list of names, the hat sometimes calling out a house immediately, sometimes deliberating for a while, until it finally reached the names beginning with 'W'.

After 'Wallace, Percival', 'Wat, Alan' and 'Wazzock, Annie' - a tragic name for any child to bear - everyone in the hall sat upright as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and read out clearly. "Weasley, Willow."

"Ho boy..."

Nervously walking up to the tiny stool, Willow sat down carefully, in case the frail-looking little thing broke and she fell on her butt in front of everyone, which would just be embarrassing, especially since everyone was staring at her expectantly.

It didn't break, fortunately, although it did creak and shift a little.

Her stomach felt like it was skipping around inside her to a 70s disco beat, her palms sweating, her hands shaking by her sides as she started to lift her face.

Willow looked up in time to see a flash of McGonagall's face, a moment before the Sorting Hat was placed on her head, flopping down to cover her eyes and ears, all sound around her suddenly muffled.

"Well, well." A little voice murmured. "Another Weasley."

"Uh...yeah..."

The hat made a chuckling sound. "I thought we had seen the last of your family, but now, the final one to arrive is the bravest and proudest of them all." Willow made a meeping sound, blushing. "Don't be embarrassed. It's all here, in your head."

"It...it is?"

Again, there was the laughing sound ringing in both her ears. "You have it all, Weasley. Bravery, intelligence, wit with just enough stubbornness, pride, resourceful, strength, rebelliousness, a determination to prove yourself...a good deal like your sister...and..."

"Harry?"

"Ah yes, Mister Potter." There was a pause. "Like him, you have the will to break rules, if you think it necessary." Willow's ears were burning. "That isn't a bad trait, Weasley, if you remember that some rules must never be broken."

"Yeah, like interdimensional crossing spells which lead to evil, scary, skanky, horny kinda-gay vampire Willows who flirt with anything that moves and..." She heard the hat chuckling again and clapped her mouth shut.

"Interesting...very interesting..."

"You're not gonna put me in Slytherin, are you? Cos of the vampire Willow thing?"

"You could do well there, you know."

Willow scowled at the inside of the hat. "Don't you make me come after you with scissors, Mister!"

"Where would you prefer to go?"

"You said it was all there, inside my head. You tell me."

She thought she could feel amusement radiating from the hat into her mind, and possibly a touch of appreciation. "Very well. If you're another Weasley, I suppose you'll just have to be in..." She heard the voice shout out. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor tables erupted in shouts, cheers and a riot of foot-stamping and applauding as the famed eighth Weasley felt the hat get pulled off her head and got to her feet to go to her table.

"Welcome to the House, Weasley." Professor McGonagall muttered to her, barely audibly. Willow grinned, then bound down the steps to the table, where Leon Mzimba gave her a grin.

"I knew you would be in Gryffindor." He confided as Willow slid into the final seat at the table, beside him.

"Read about the family, huh?"

Leon grinned at her. "How did you know?"

"You look the type." She replied, winking, then looked up to the table at the head of the Hall, where the teachers had all assumed their seats, Professor McGonagall next to Professor Dumbledore.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, a silence falling over the hall again. "Once again, I would like to welcome you to a new year at Hogwarts and, before we begin the feast, I have a line or two to say to you."

Willow felt the laugh bubbling up inside her already, hoping that he would say it, just for the sake of amusement.

If he had done the clothing thing, how could he not say...

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts. Here they are a-standing in a row." He spread his hands with a smile, laughter rapidly spreading across the Great Hall, while a few pureblood wizards simply looked confused. "And now, the feast..."

Food appeared on the table, people immediately tucking in.

Except Willow, who was practically on the floor, hysterically giggling, tears of mirth rolling down her face. A few of the other Gryffindors who were close enough to see were staring her as if she were quite mad.

Fortunately, she glanced towards the teacher's table, and saw two people who were having as much trouble keeping their faces straight: Lupin had a hand over his mouth and Hermione was hiding her face in Hagrid's jacket, her shoulders shaking.

Apparently neither of them believed he would do or say it either, but he had! He had said it! He had actually said it! She had dared the Head Master and he and done and said everything he said he would!

Willow risked a quick glance up at him, clutching her sides that were aching with laughter, and found him smiling down at her, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief as the eighth Weasley finally gave into the forces of gravity and fell off the bench she was sitting on, still laughing.

That was the moment that the Gryffindors knew for a fact that she was as mad as her infamous family and they suddenly looked very happy.

It was going to be an interesting year.

***

"And the pink carnation!" Arm-in-arm with Hermione, having been caught by the Professor of Muggle-Studies straight after the feast, Willow and the brown-haired witch were both still giggling over Dumbledore's costume.

They were on their way towards the Gryffindor common room and Hermione was still refusing to tell Willow what the surprise was that she had mentioned just prior to the Sorting.

Passing by some of the Hufflepuffs on a stairway, Willow was briefly distracted by the incredible architecture as they ascended the flight of white marble stairs, the high roof rising into the spires and towers high above them in arches and alcoves.

Once again, she spotted the wizened witch, who had been staring at her from one of the paintings in the entrance Hall. Apparently, the witch was chasing them up the building, to keep track of her.

"Hermione," Patting Hermione's left arm with her left hand, she nodded towards the witch. "Can you tell her to stop stalking me?"

"Violet." Hermione tutted. "What are you doing?"

Peering around the edge of a gilded frame, the owners of the picture - a Knight and his lady - looking indignant that she was interrupting. Clearly embarrassed at being caught, Violet - the witch - studied Willow. "Is this her, then?" She asked, her voice shrill and a little breathless.

"If you mean the eighth Weasley, yes, Violet, this is her. Willow Weasley, this is our gossip-monger, Violet." The witch looked pleased at the commendation. "She makes sure that all the comings and goings in the castle are known by all the pictures."

"O...kay..." Willow nodded politely. "Can you kinda...stop following me now?"

"Of course! Just had to check if the rumours were true." Violet smiled broadly at her. "Must keep everyone up to date with what's happening you know. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Weasley!"

"Uh...you too..."

Hermione laughed at the expression on Willow's face. "Oh, she's not that bad, once you get used to her being here, there and everywhere." She said. "And she's a good friend of the Fat Lady."

"I'll take your word for it."

They continued down the hallways, talking animatedly, until they reached the painting of the Fat Lady, two large torches burning on either side of the picture, in which the plump lady in a pink silk dress smiled out at them.

"Ah, Miss Weasley."

"Lemme guess - Violet was here?"

The Fat lady chuckled. "Indeed she was. Now, perhaps I can have a password from both of you."

"Flibbertigibbet." Hermione said immediately.

"What-itty-what-it?" Willow stared at her. "You expect me to remember that? I can't even remember how to pronounce half the names of things for my classes and I have to remember a word like that? And are you sure it's even a word and..."

She was hauled back by the laughing Hermione, as the painting swung open to reveal a circular hole in the wall, the Fat Lady chuckling on the other side. "I can see we're going to have an interesting time with you." The Fat Lady called around to her.

Willow whimpered. "I dunno if I can do this." She said, looking up at the hole "I mean, I'm all older than they are and everything!"

"Oh come on!" Hermione braced her hands on the edge of circle, hoisting herself up and sliding into the tunnel, scrambling through to the other side easily. "I want to show you everything!"

Reluctantly, Willow followed her lead, dropping in an unladylike heap on the floor, when the end of the tunnel ended abruptly. Fortunately, though, the common room was empty, so no one saw her sprawled on her butt on the floor.

Grabbing Willow's hands, Hermione pulled her to her feet. "Come on, Willow!" She sounded strangely excited, even more so than Willow was.

The red head was dragged to a gold and scarlet drape that hung on the wall, in front of a column of white marble, where Hermione - after checking that none of the other Gryffindors were about - pulled back the fabric.

"This way." She said, her eyes sparkling.

"Uh...Hermione...it's a pillar."

Hermione flashed her impish smile at Willow again. "Not quite." She said. "Say your name."

"Why?"

"Just say it!"

Hesitantly, feeling a little stupid, Willow leaned forwards and mumbled. "Willow Weasley."

A round brass knob emerged out of the stone, a line of a door appearing on the solid column. Hermione grasped it and pulled the door open, revealing a long staircase, spiralling upwards. "Well?"

"Huh?"

"Honestly! Willow, it's not difficult! There are stairs. We go up them! Come on!"

Her hand catching Willow's again, Hermione started to run up the stairs, Willow following as quickly as she could, feeling too full and too sleepy to be taken on a bizarre trek around the castle.

The stairs went up several levels at least, ending on a landing with a single, dark, reddish-brown door with a brass handle. Hermione, her eyes shining eagerly, pushed Willow forwards. "Go on!" She urged. "It's your room."

"Mine...?" Cautiously, Willow turned the large handle and pushed the door open, to reveal a beautiful, surprisingly large round room, windows with cushioned window-seats all the way around the wood-panelled walls, draped with light curtains.

On either side of the room, a large double bed, four-poster bed stood, with red hangings, deep red blankets and white sheets and pillows, with the Hogwarts crest visible on them, even from where Willow was standing.

The carpet on the floor was thick and red and looked like you could sink up to your ankles in it and Willow was possessed by the strange urge to rip her shoes and socks off and do just that.

Her eyes continued around the room, to the matching desks on opposite sides of the room, near the beds. It was like there was one room and the other side was it's mirror image, which made her wonder...

"Why are there two beds?" She asked, turning to Hermione, who was bouncing on her toes, looking like she was about to explode with excitement, her eyes shining.

"I'm your room mate!"

"Omigod!" Squealing, they hugged each other, both bouncing up and down. The red head, one arm still around Hermione's waist, looked into the room, then at Hermione again. "How did this happen?"

"Professor Dumbledore thought you might not want to stay with children, but that you wouldn't want to be on your own." Hermione explained. "So, he asked me if I would want to share the tower room with you."

"And you said yes!"

"Actually, no, but then he promised me a raise, so..."

Willow turned to look at her and saw the wicked gleam in Hermione's eyes, before they both starting laughing, then hugged each and squealed again. "Omigod! I have a roomie at Hogwarts! This is so cool!"

"C'mon! You have to see the view from the windows! Its fabulous!" They stopped at the threshhold of the room, exchanging looks. As one, they kicked their shoes off and stepped into the room.

Just as Willow had expected, her feet sank into the thick, rich carpet, the warmth spreading through her from her toes, which she wiggled deeper into the soft mass, before hurrying across to the window.

"Wow..." She gasped, kneeling up in the window-seat and staring out across the moonlight-drenched grounds, her hands and face pressed against the cool glass, as she stared around.

"I know." Hermione whispered, sitting next to her. "It's amazing, isn't it?"

Willow nodded, speechless, as Hermione patted her on the knee. Even if she had been able to form words at that point, there were none that truly could expand on the sheer feeling of "holy moley!" she was experiencing.

She could see everything: the Quidditch pitch with the tall goalposts that looked like the bubble-sticks she used to play with Xander, the whomping Willow - the name made her giggle a little - the dark forest in the distance, Hagrid's hut, a warm light flickering in the window.

"Oh!" After several minutes of silence, Hermione scrambled to her feet and ran across to the left side of the room - which Willow thought was neat, because she had hoped she would get the opposite side - and dug into the chest of drawers there.

"What is it?"

Withdrawing two items out of the drawer, Hermione returned to the window seat, as Willow turned fully to face her, leaving misty imprints of her hands, nose and forehead on the glass.

Sitting opposite the younger witch, Hermione looked a little dubious, but sighed. "I told Harry that I would pass these things on to you, although I can't imagine why you would want them."

A sheet of shimmering, silvery fabric was placed in the window box between them, then a scrap of old, rather tattered and dog-eared parchment was placed on top of it with a little less enthusiasm.

"This isn't..." Willow picked up the scrap, eagerly withdrawing her wand from the pocket of her robes and touched it to the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Immediately, lines started to appear, with the introduction that Willow recognised well from the third book in the series about her brother-in-law, a smile crossing her face at the names: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

"The Marauders Map." She whispered.

"Yes." Hermione sniffed. "I don't see why you would need such a thing."

"In case I need to find a hidden passage?"

Hermione's sniffy manner disappeared and she almost looked naughty. "Willow, we have one of the Marauders as a friend here. Why do you think we would need that filthy piece of scrap with him around?"

"I see your point." Willow returned the naughty grin, but she still tucked the map into her pocket after 'switching it off'. "I think I'll keep it anyway, since Harry sent it for me..."

Her companion laughed. "I thought you might. And I suppose you'll be keeping the invisibility cloak as well?"

"I think I could force myself." Willow heaved a sigh. "With a bit of effort."

"Again, I thought as much." Hermione yawned, then covered her mouth looking a little embarrassed. "Um...sorry. I think I must be a little sleepy."

"Me too." Smothering a yawn herself, Willow reluctantly made herself get to her feet, the soft cushions on the window seat far too comfortable. She looked across the room at the right side. "That's my side, right?"

Hermione suddenly looked chagrined. "You don't mind, do you? It's just that I..."

"It's fine." Willow grinned. "I was hoping it would be my side." Wading through the thick carpet to the bed, she threw herself back on the mattress, bouncing where she fell. "They really like making things comfortable, don't they?"

"Of course! It's Hogwarts."

"So where's the bathroom? Is it comfortable?"

Hermione, digging her nightshirt out of her drawers looked up. "Well, we don't have a bathroom up here, but I'll show you it tomorrow. We have a toilet, though, with a wash basin and a shower."

"And you don't class that as a bathroom?"

The twinkle had returned to Hermione's eyes. "When you see the bath room, you'll understand why I don't class the little rooms up here as bathrooms." She replied, stripping off her robes, down to her plain white underwear. "Oh and don't mind me. I have no shame."

Willow didn't know what was worse: the fact that Hermione was standing there in her skimpy underwear, showing off her figure that she kept hidden under her robes or the fact that she - Willow - was liking the fact that Hermione was standing there in her skimpy underwear, showing off her figure.

"Uh...nice set..." She managed to say faintly.

Hermione cast an impish look at her. "Are you talking about my breasts or my underwear?" The red head went scarlet and Hermione started laughing. "If there was one things those books didn't mention, it was that I adore teasing people."

"I'm starting to notice this." Willow started pulling the drapes shut around her bed, blushing furiously. Hermione just chuckled as she continued to change.

"Good night, Willow." She called with mock-sweetness.

"Yeah." Willow yawned again. "Night!"


Chapter 24: Meanwhile

The Key.

Her sister.

Huh?

Buffy was turning things over and over in her head, trying to make sense of what she had been told by the weird Monk-guy before he died. And the super-powerful Gucci-bitch who had kicked her ass.

It was turning into a seriously weird month.

Sitting on her wide bed, she stretched with a wince, her body still healing the bruises and cuts that had been inflicted on her by firstly, psycho-blonde-super-bitch and second, by the building almost crushing her a few days before.

Carefully lying down on the bed, she grimaced as she stretched out on her back, the South Californian afternoon sunlight rippling in through the half-open curtains.

The Slayer sighed.

As if finding out that her sister wasn't really her sister but a ball of energy that was really a key to dangerous interdimensional portals and was being hunted down by a well-dressed, entirely insane psychopathic blonde wonder-woman wasn't difficult enough to come to terms with, there was the fact that her mom could have been seriously ill.

Joyce Summers had been having a lot of headaches of late. She had collapsed a few days earlier at work at the gallery, after remarking on her head hurting and had been rushed to hospital.

Scans and checks had been done right away. It had turned out to be a small tumour just inside her skull, but the doctors had operated immediately and removed the lump, which - after testing - had proved benign.

They had kept her in for a day or two, then ordered her home to rest and recover, which she was doing presently, downstairs, lying on the couch with Dawn keeping her company and providing her with a running commentary on the soap operas they were watching on TV.

Which brought the subject back to Dawn, now that mom was going to be all right.

Her sister wasn't her sister.

Not really.

But she was!

Buffy could clearly remember the day that they had brought the newborn baby Dawn home from the hospital, she could remember watching her sister grow and become the annoying brat who currently made her life Hell.

She could remember the vacations they had taken as a family. She could remember hiding in her closet with Dawn, hugging her crying sister, when their parents were screaming at one another.

She could remember everything!

Was it all created? Was everything she remembered about their family a lie? Had it all been made up for them by those monk-guys? If none of that had really happened to them, what had happened?

It wasn't just her and mom, though.

Giles, Xander and Anya could all remember her and in detail. They could remember her almost getting snatched by Angelus when she hadn't known he was no longer Angel. They could remember her getting Buffy in trouble. They remembered her.

Willow could too. It was written right there in her last letter - 'give Dawn a noogie for me' - and she hadn't even been in Sunnydale, or even America, when the spell was cast by those weird monk-y guys.

How could it all be made up?

Yeah, that spell she had done had shown her Dawn wasn't real, but she felt real. She looked real and acted real and smelt real and really annoyed real well. There was no way she was just a figment of their manipulated minds.

Buffy closed her eyes. The Monk-guy had explained it, that Dawn was her sister, that the memories were shared by everyone involved, that - in spite of the fact that she was made of that supernatural energy - she was now human and now connected to the Slayer by the connection of blood.

They were sisters.

There could be no question of it.

No matter where Dawn had come from, no matter what she had been and why she had come to be, Buffy knew that - no matter how she tried - she wouldn't be able to see Dawn as anything other than a sister.

Her sister.

And she knew that she would give her life to protect Dawnie, even if she was the most annoying brat in the world at times.

A clatter from the window-sill made her jerk upright, grabbing for a stake, before she remembered it was daylight and released a sigh, turning to look at the window, where a barn owl perched on the window-ledge.

"Merlin!"

Willow's barn owl had a letter securely tied to his leg - Willow had explained in an earlier letter that the bird had decided that it was meant to fly over toilets and drop anything it was carrying down them, so she had resorted to tying all mail to the bird's legs - which Buffy snatched and opened.

An indignant hoot from the bird made her look around. "Oh! Right! Food!"

Letting the owl hop onto her hand, she got to her feet stiffly and walked down the stairs, glancing in on her mother, who was apparently asleep on the couch, and her...

Huh?

Where was Dawn?

A clatter from the kitchen alerted her.

Holding onto both Merlin and the letter, the Slayer hurried through, to find Dawn scrambling down from a stool, onto the kitchen floor.

"What were you doing?" Buffy demanded, a little more sharply than she intended.

Dawn held up a jar of peanut butter. "Needed to get some peanut butter. I'm making mom a sandwich. " She explained, moving to the island in the middle of the kitchen and to a sticky-looking... mess on the counter.

"A sandwich?" The blonde stared at the heap of bread, pickles, jelly, salami and blobs of ketchup and mustard as Dawn used a spoon to scoop peanut butter on top of it. "Dawn, I don't think mom would want that."

Licking her fingers, the slim brunette girl grinned. "Mom always eats everything I make her." She said proudly, squashing another slice of bread down on top of the gooey heap. "This is the Dawn-Day special." She stopped short at the sight of the bird on Buffy's arm. "Uh, Buffy, why do you have an owl?"

"Uh..." Sticking the owl-occupied arm behind her back hastily, Buffy tried to feign ignorance and ignore Merlin's indignant squawks and pecks that were being landed on her bare arm. "What owl?"

Only their close-knit group knew about Willow attending Hogwarts and they had thought it safer not to tell Dawn, especially since she had fallen in love with the Harry Potter books.

It would definitely be a thing of the not good variety for a hyperactive teenage brat to learn that her favourite books were real.

The accuracy of that assessment was only emphasised when her sister put two and two together. Owl = bird for delivering mail = stupidly unrealistic = therefore, could only possibly come from Harry Potter.

It was so easy to follow the thought processes that Dawn went through.

Buffy started to count, to see just how long it would take. She reached five...

"Omigod..." Her blue eyes grew enormous. "Omigod! It's like in Harry Potter!"

"No it's not!" Giving Merlin a firm shake behind her back, Buffy hissed in pain as he pecked on her finger. Hard.

"It SO is! Let me see it!"

She tried to peer around Buffy, who was trying to back away towards the door and keep a grip of Merlin, without squashing him on purpose, although - if he pecked her again - she might 'accidentally' squeeze him a bit too hard.

"Dawn!"

Fending her sister off, Buffy yelled as she tripped over one of the stools and fell to the floor hard, Merlin breaking free of her grip and swooping out of the kitchen with an indignant screech, while Dawn squealed with excitement.

"I knew it was an owl! I knew it!"

Sprawled on the floor, her bruised back feeling much worse than it had moments before, Buffy glared at her sister as she struggled back onto her feet. "Yes, Dawn, it was an owl." She said. "It flew in my window to bring me a letter from Hogheads."

Dawn assumed the standard sulk-pose that all teenagers seemed to have in-built in their brains, crossing her arms over her chest, chin down, mouth in a severe pout.

"I don't care if you think Harry Potter is dumb." She scowled, grabbing the plate with the sandwich she had made for their mother. "I like it." She stormed past her sister, turning back to snippily say. "And anyway, its Hogwarts."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Buffy couldn't help grinning a little.

Dawn so rarely believed anything Buffy said to her that she - on matter of stubborn teenage principal - didn't believe it when Buffy did actually give her an honest answer about what she was doing.

Limping a little, her bruises aching again, Buffy opened the fridge, searching for something to give to Merlin, liberating the last of the salami that Dawn had left.

She returned up the stairs, letter in hand, to her room, and stopped short, her mouth falling open at the sight of Merlin - sitting on the desk to the right of the door - pecking viciously as Mr. Gordo!

"Get off him!" She shrieked wildly, hurling the chunk of salami at the bird. No one, especially not Willow's maniac pet bird, was allowed to harm a thread on Mr. Gordo's stuffed-piggy body.

Merlin dodged the missile, then - picking it up - fluttered over to the bed and started pecking at it instead.

"Dumb bird." Buffy muttered, crossing the floor to sit down at the desk. She looked Mr. Gordo over, but there didn't seem to be any permanent damage, so she tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter from Willow.

***

Hi Buffy!

I just thought I would write to you before I leave for school, because I don't think I'm going to have much time when I get there. I leave for Hogwarts tomorrow and I'm really nervous now, especially since I've been to the stores to get all the stuff I need for my classes.

I hope everyone is all right and that there hasn't been too much slayage. I mean that you've been slaying a lot, but there hadn't been too much of it for you to do and that made so much more sense inside my head...

How is everyone? Ron told me to say hi to you (He still goes red whenever I mention your name. I think he like likes you!). Mom and dad are great and I've been meeting a whole lot of other people that are friends.

Oh my God! I have to tell you about friends of Harry's! I met Sirius Black, you know that guy Professor Dumbledore told us about? He is HOT! I mean whoa! I mean, not my kind of guy, but still...and he actually reminded me of Angel, because he was in a place called Azkaban and it's kinda like Hell. They have these demon-things that suck out happiness and make most of the people there go nuts, kinda like Angel was.

Hey! I just thought of something! Maybe Angel wasn't in Hell at all! Maybe he was in Azkaban! I mean, it would explain the crazies when he came back and the whole magic appearing-out-of-nowhere thing.

Ack! Babbling on paper now!

Anyway, there's another guy I met called Remus Lupin and he's really sweet. He reminds me of Oz. Maybe it's cos he's quiet or cos he has the whole werewolf thing going for him. I don't know, but he's so nice. I think he's my teacher in Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

OH! I met Hermione Granger!

She's kinda like the High-school-me of Hogwarts. At least that's what Ron thought, cos apparently she's really smart and she does lots of research all the time. She lived in the library at Hogwarts, like we did at High school.

I don't think they kept a werewolf in their library though.

Mom just called! I better go now cos I have to finish packing for tomorrow. Give Xander and Dawnie a big hug each from me and give my love to Giles and tell Anya that Merlin is behaving well now.

Love, Willow.

P.S. You guys have to come and see me some time! I bet Professor Dumbledore could arrange it! Love you all!

***

Laying down the letter, Buffy sat back in her seat, staring blankly at the wall in front of her for a few minutes, her thoughts drifting back to the super-strong Gucci-ho who had almost beaten her.

If she was after the Key, Dawn, then Buffy knew she would be in trouble, if she didn't have magical back-up to help her fight and now that Willow was gone, she definitely didn't have nearly enough of that.

She looked down at the letter and the invitation, almost smiling at the thought of seeing her best friend again. It was times like this that she realised how much she missed Willow, when she was gone.

And by now, Willow would be at a boarding school for witches and wizards, with a whole lot of powerful witchy and wizardy teachers to protect her and it, which was always a good thing.

A thought crossed the Slayer's mind, making her brow wrinkle a little.

Then, she smiled.

That was it.

If the worst came to the worst with wonder-woman, she could always ask Willow if Dumbledore would be able to provide a helping hand and, if not, Dawn could always visit Hogwarts, to get her out of the way.

A blissful look crossed Buffy's face at the thought of even a day without her sister.

However, the moment was broken by a yell from downstairs.

"Buffy! Mom says you have to stop teasing me about Harry Potter!"

"Yes, Dawn." The Slayer muttered darkly, then snickered, wondering what her little sister would say if she knew that Buffy had met the infamous Harry Potter only a few weeks earlier.

Well, if she ever had to resort to telling Dawn about Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Willow being one of the Weasleys and the books being real, she knew that she would make the most of it as only a big sister knew how.

In the way that would annoy her little sister as much as possible.

The analogy of rubbing salt in an open wound came to mind for some reason.

A wicked grin crossed her face.

She really didn't know why.

Really.


Chapter 25: Best Days?

Willow stared at herself in the mirror that stood against the wall near her bed.

Yes she looked...like she was about to be sick with terror.

Swallowing hard, she brushed down her robes with shaking hands, hoping she didn't look as white and terrified as she thought she did. She glanced towards the door of the small bathroom she and Hermione shared. "Hermione?"

"Mmm-hmm?" The older witch stuck her head out of the door, her toothbrush stuck in her mouth, her other hand in the middle of brushing her uncontrollable mass of brown hair.

"So I, y'know, look all right?" Willow asked, her expression saying for the record that she thought she looked stupid, weird and lost, all rolled into one, much as she had felt for much of her life in the early High School years.

Waving with a brush that she would be through in a moment, Hermione ducked back into the bathroom to finish cleaning her teeth.

When she hurried out, her long hair had been magiced back into a braid and she was wearing a scoop-necked cream blouse, with a light brown waistcoat and knee-length skirt, over which she would no doubt wear robes.

Making her way through the deep carpet to Willow, she gave the younger girl an affectionate look. "You look perfect." She said, gesturing for Willow to turn for her, so she could check every angle.

"I-I do?"

She was wearing the standard Hogwarts uniform: a heavy, grey skirt that reached her knees, knee-high white socks, a white shirt, the Gryffindor tie - which had been a regulation Hogwarts tie until she had been sorted - and grey sweater and the usual black robes, that hung to her ankles.

Hermione reached up and straightened her tie for her. "You look fine, Willow. I promise." She said gently, stroking loose strands of red hair back from Willow's pale face with her thumb "Don't be so scared. No one wants you to do badly here."

"Except Snape."

The Professor of Muggle Studies snorted. "Well, he's an arrogant prat anyway."

"What?" Willow gaped at her. Hermione gave her a prim look. "Hermione! You called Snape a prat!"

The older witch's eyes danced. "And you know that I'm always honest in my opinions of people." She said, tucking the loose strands of hair behind Willow's ears with a smile. "Snape just happens to be a pompous twit with a knack for scaring anyone under the age of eighteen. And you."

"You make him sound harmless." Willow turned back to stare at her white-faced reflection in the mirror.

"He is harmless, Will." The Professor of Muggle Studies propped her chin on Willow's shoulder, studying the red head's reflection. "Someone once told me 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' and Snape is definitely one of those things. He can't physically harm you, but he can make you tough enough to defend yourself if someone does try to."

"I'll bear that in mind when he starts picking on me." Willow mumbled, bunching a fist against her stomach to try to squish the butterflies currently doing a jazzed-up version of the rumba there.

Hermione just chuckled. "C'mon." She said, stepping back and going to get her shoes from under her bed. "We're going to be late for breakfast and if you miss that, you'll be off-track for the rest of the day."

"Big comfort." Willow moaned, grabbing her hefty canvas bag and swinging it onto her shoulder. "I'm just glad I don't have to fly until this afternoon. At least then, I won't barf my breakfast all over everyone."

"You have such a...graphic way with words." Hermione chuckled, fastening her shoes and straightening up. Snatching her own bag and robes, she joined Willow at the door that led down to the Gryffindor common room. "Shall we?"

"Do we have to?"

"Yes!"

***

"Good morning, everyone."

Professor Lupin greeted them, as the first years filed into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, his pale eyes catching Willow's and he gave her a tiny yet hugely comforting smile.

He looked a little tired and Willow realised that only a couple of nights before they had come to Hogwarts, he must have been going through a stage of wolfiness. After all, the previous night was when the full moon was waning.

Part of her wanted to hug him, like she did Oz, when he came out of the wolfy state, looking so tired, but she knew that probably wasn't the best way to start her Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.

Making her way to the back, she sat unobtrusively in the last row, making sure to stay out of the way of all the scary, small and powerful younger pupils, who were starting to intimidate her a whole lot.

"As you all know," Perching on front edge of the desk, Lupin looked around at the fascinated faces staring up at him. "This class is where you will learn to defend yourself against the dark arts and creatures that are associated with them. Now, this class is very lucky to have someone who has actually lived through an experience in a Dark Arts-centred area."

Huh?

Willow looked around the room.

There was someone here who had been somewhere dark and oogy like she had...oh God! He was talking about her and looking at her with a very naughty look in his pale eyes and oh God!

"Miss Willow Weasley, the red-haired lady at the back of the class," Oh, she was SO gonna kill him! She was gonna kill him good! "Lived on a Hellmouth for eighteen years. Now, do any of you know what a Hellmouth is?"

A small brown hand shot up.

Leon Mzimba.

"Leon?"

"Yes, Professor." The boy answered eagerly. "A Hellmouth is a centre of mystical convergence, where all the powers are centralised over a certain point, which is often regarded to be an opening onto Hell."

"A very well-worded definition, Leon. Five points to Gryffindor." Lupin's eyes drifted around the class. "As Leon clearly said, the Hellmouth is viewed as a virtual doorway onto Hell. Can anyone tell us what the main populace of a Hellmouth is?"

Again, Leon's hand shot up, followed by a couple of others.

"D-demons, Sir?" Annie Wazzock said carefully.

"Very good, Annie. Yes. While most muggles believe that they are alone on earth, Hellmouths are hot-spots for demon activity and there are often more demons than muggles in habitation there." He raised his twinkling eyes to Willow, who was scarlet and glaring at him. "Now, perhaps Miss Weasley might come down to the front and tell us of a few of dark creatures she has faced."

"No she might not." She muttered under her breath, but still pushed her chair out with unnecessary force and stomped all the way to the front of the classroom, where Lupin gave her a raise of an eyebrow. "Prat." She hissed at him.

"Witch." He returned in a low voice, actually making her giggle. "So, Miss Weasley, you inhabited a Hellmouth. Can you tell us a little about what that was like and a little of your experiences there?"

She wanted to say 'No!' and run to the back of the class and hide behind her huge bag. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him and sulk. She wanted to do anything but sit and talk about demony things.

But then, she found she was talking.

Ho boy, was she talking!

A lot.

And lots of quills were scratching on parchment, making notes.

She started, without even noticing, about how her powers had been harder to control there, as if there was some kind of opposing force trying to prevent her from doing spells and things, so every spell was a struggle.

Then, she moved onto the various oogy creatures of the night that she had had the misfortune of coming across: vampires, werewolves, Mayor-snake-demon-thing which had made Graduation so much more memorable, Kung-fu ninja-psycho demon-chicks who wanted to end the world, horny-demon-guys who wanted to end the world, other strange demons that wanted to end the world - she was really starting to see a running theme there - Hyena demons, the Bezoar, zombies, the Inca mummy girl.

'Oooooh's and 'Aaaaaah's punctuated her words, along with the scribbling scratch of quills on parchment, wide-eyed faces staring up at her when she went into greater depths about certain creatures, especially the vampires.

Everyone always seemed to want to know about the vampires.

"You got bit?" A nervous little blonde girl from Ravenclaw squeaked.

"Not too badly." Willow admitted, her hand rising to her neck at the memory of Harmony aiming to bite and almost missing. Looking back on it, it was kinda funny to think about. "Although, there was this time that Spike, he was a really mean vampire, came to my dorm..."

She detailed how he had told her he was going to kill her, then had tackled her, pinning her down on the bed: How she had felt his fangs on her throat, how she had seen her life flashing in front of her eyes, how it felt like her heart was about to explode through her chest.

"Ooooooooh!" The class were staring at her wonderingly.

"How did you get away from him?" Professor Lupin was the one who actually asked the question. He was still leaning against the desk and he looked absolutely fascinated by her storytelling.

Willow shrugged. "It's not very exciting. He had a chip-thing in his head...a kind of muggly machine thing and it stopped him from hurting people, so when he tried to bite me, all he got was brain-fried. I hit him on the head with a lamp and ran away."

"Wow..."

Willow could feel a surge of embarrassment rising up her face in a red wave. "Um... yeah," She mumbled, shooting a dark look at Lupin for dragging her up in the first place. "So that's the boring life of Willow Weasley, lamp-breaker extraordinaire."

She had never been more relieved in her life than when the deep reverberating 'bong' of the bell signified that it was the end of the class, giving the chuckling Lupin one more dark look, as she fled from the class.

***

"So how did it go?"

Sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table, nearest the teacher's table, Willow looked up to find Hermione standing over her, smirking. "You knew he was gonna embarrass me, didn't you?" She pointed a ketchup-stained knife at the other witch.

"What on earth gives you that idea?" Hermione's eyes went round and innocent.

"Huh." Turning back to her chicken and vegetables, Willow glowered a little more.

Hermione just smiled and turned to walk towards the staff table, pausing as she mounted the first step. "Oh, I was wondering if you'd want to walk me to Muggle-studies after lunch. I have your class."

Jabbing a squashy lump of potato with her fork, Willow shot a glare of mock-annoyance at Hermione. "Sure. I guess I can do that," Her fork came up and pointed at the Professor. "But if you tell me we have to hold hands and walk in pairs...I'm not falling for that again!"

"Drat! You foiled my evil plot!" Laughing, Hermione continued up to the table, where she slid into a seat beside Lupin, who was watching them banter, a small smile on his face.

***

If the youngest Weasley thought she had been embarrassed in Lupin's class, it was nothing compared to what happened in Hermione's class, where only the impish smile of the Professor prevented her from stomping out.

It had started out well enough, with the Professor asking how many of them were muggle-borns and how many were first and second generation wizarding families, then she had - pointedly staring at Willow - asked if there was anyone who had been in a different position.

It had just gone downhill from there.

As she had done with Lupin, she had ended up talking about everyday life on the Hellmouth and the interesting uses that totally normal items could be put to, which became ridiculous.

Once more, she was glad when she could flee the class, her classmates still wanting to ask more of this strange yet totally fascinating wizarding-born, muggle-raised, wandless-wonder-witch.

However, it was only when she realised that she had a flying lesson that she slowed her pace, suddenly wishing she could run back to the dormitory to hide under her four poster bed.

It wasn't that she was afraid of flying.

It was more that she was terrified of not flying.

Of crashing.

After all, she still didn't have control of her wand, so how in the heck was she meant to make a broomstick do what she wanted?

"You all right?" A young voice asked beside her and she looked down to find the Leon Mzimba looking up at her as she walked towards the grassy lawn. He looked as nauseous as she felt, his face ghostly.

"Mmm." She whimpered at the sight of two rows of broomsticks lying on the grass and heard Leon do the same. "You?"

"I-I-I-I'm sc-scared of h-heights." He mumbled, staring fitfully at the broomsticks.

"Don't worry." Giving him a comforting smile - or at least what she hoped was a comforting smile - Willow nodded to two brooms that were side by side. "We probably won't go high, since it's our first time."

"Y-y-you think so?"

"Mmm." She hummed non-commitedly.

They took the last two brooms, looking down the line of other Gryffindors with clear unease at their flying instructor, Madam Hooch. The woman was smiling around at them, her grey hair standing up all over the place, her yellow eyes reminding Willow of Merlin's.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson." She said, her eerie eyes lingering on Willow briefly, before she launched into the speech about taking up positions and motioned for them all to summon their brooms to their hands.

Much to Willow's shock, her leapt straight to her hand, almost carrying her straight up into the air with the force of it. Around her, a few other people had their brooms in their hand, but Leon's was lying at his feet, shuddering.

"I don't think it likes me." He mumbled, punching his glasses up his nose.

Minutes later, when everyone finally had their broomsticks in their hands, Madam Hooch excitedly showed them how to mount and grip the broom, to prevent any of them slipping off in flight.

"Good...good..." She checked each of them. "Now, I want you to kick off a little way from the ground, hover for a few moments, then tip the broom forward slightly and come back to land. On my whistle..."

Nervous looks were exchanged, then the whistle blew.

Leon shot off like a bullet out of a gun and Willow found herself horribly reminded of what had happened to Neville Longbottom so many years ago, her voice rising with the rest of the classes, to call out.

The broom angled itself upwards, sweeping up the side of one of the towers, the skinny little boy wrapping arms and legs around it, his face going grey as he was carried higher and higher.

"He's going to fall!" A girl shrieked, pointing.

It certainly looked like it!

Leon's dark face was the colour of dishwater, and he was visibly shaking. Although they weren't close enough to see for sure, Willow was convinced that his eyes were rolling. If his phobia of heights was anything like hers of frogs...

Suddenly, he just seemed to lose his grip.

The broom kept moving, but he slipped off, falling at horrendous speed toward the spiked, gargoyle-like decorations that edged the roof of the tower.

The girls in the class were screaming in panic, Madam Hooch kicking off from the ground on a broom, her expression fraught and desperate, but Willow could see that even at the speed she was flying at, she wouldn't reach the boy in time.

Running forward, the red-haired witch stretched her arms upwards, focussing her mind on the boy, forcing her thoughts to become two immense hands that could move the air and catch him.

"DECELERANDO!" She screamed out.

Her eyes were pressed tightly shut, but she could feel him, through the air.

She heard gasps and cries of astonishment around her, carefully opening her eyes to see Leon bobbing in the air, barely inches from the spikes on the tower, his head lolling limply, his glasses hanging off one ear.

Panting with the effort of holding his dead-weight up, she mentally steered him away from the tower, towards the air over the middle of the lawn and slowly brought the boy's body towards the ground.

Running forward, she caught him around the middle and released her spell, dropping to her knees, the boy's body heavier than she expected, flopping like a limp noodle in her arms.

Madam Hooch landed lightly beside her, staring at the young witch. Her face was white and she looked like she had seen some kind of ghost. "How...?"

"Huh?"

"You levitated the boy without a wand."

"Oh...right...that. It's no big deal." Willow gently shook Leon, who was still a funny shade of grey. "Leon? Leon, can you hear me?" Shuddering violently, the boy's dark chocolate coloured eyes opened, strangely glassy. "Thank God! You're alive!"

"High..." He whispered, shivering in her arms. "So...high...couldn't hold on..."

A loud snap made them both jump, looking up. Madam Hooch bent and shoved a large chunk of chocolate into the boy's mouth, as well as chewing on a bit herself, her face white.

"Eat." She ordered in a shaking voice.

Leon didn't seem to have the energy to do anything but lie limply in Willow's arms and let the chocolate melt in his mouth, shivers still running through him, as the red-haired witch held him and carefully put his glasses back on straight.

The rest of the class were standing in silence, staring at the three in the middle of the lawn, but - most particularly - at Willow.

That was definitely not what they had been expecting from their first flying lessons.

Yes, they had expected someone to do the accident-prone thing and fly off out of control, but they never imagined that one of their number would almost get himself killed, only to be saved by some kind of freaky superwitch who could do charms without a wand.

"Should we take him to Madam Pomfrey?" Willow asked, when she was still sitting there, several minutes later.

Madam Hooch, still very pale in the face nodded. "Yes...yes...that might be a good idea...I'll do that right away..." She pulled out a wand giving Willow another cautious look, as if she suspected her to be dangerous.

"You're gonna be okay, Leon." The red head whispered reassuringly to the boy, as madam Hooch conjured up a stretcher and she and Willow both helped the shaking boy onto it.

"Musta looked...stupid..." He croaked, not releasing her hand.

Willow stroked his cheek. "Not at all," She said, smiling. "You were the only kid in the class who flew without a broomstick."

"I did?" He smiled shyly back at her. "Nifty..."

"Come on, young man," Madam Hooch sent the stretcher in the direction of the medical wing with a wave of her wand. "The rest of you, class is dismissed." She said loudly. "Be sure to pack away the brooms in the right racks. Weasley," Willow looked at her nervously. "Thank you."

***

"Good day?"

Willow, lying on her bed, reading up on some spells she would be doing in charms the next morning, looked up at Hermione, who had just entered their room, heaped down with armfuls of scrolls.

"I think weird describes it better." She answered, laying the book down.

"Hmm?"

The red head shrugged. "Well, you and Remus decided to embarrass me, which I can deal with kind of," Hermione snickered. "Then Leon, that cute little first year guy, almost gets himself killed an suddenly, everyone in my years is staring at me like I'm some kind of superhero for stopping him from falling on a tower."

"Um...could you give that to me once more?" The Professor of Muggle Studies turned to face her fully. "What's this about Leon and falling on a tower?"

"So it's not around the school yet? Oh good!" Willow hastily explained about the runaway broom, the falling boy, the spell, saving him, then the looks on the faces of her classmates. "And Madam Hooch looked like she was going to have a heart attack right there and then!"

"It's the wandless magic thing that surprises people." Hermione said. "Most people simply don't have enough power inside them to do spells that way. That's why we use wands - they're like a magical battery for us. You have your own built-in battery as well as a wand."

"So when I use my wand...?"

A pensive look crossed Hermione's face. "Either you'll be able to do the spells much more easily than everyone else..."

"Or...?"

Hermione gave her a helpless look. "Or you could blow the whole school to pieces with your power combining with the power of your wand." Willow blanched. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore'll understand."

Willow could just manage to make a sound that sounded remotely like 'eep!'.

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