The Eighth Weasley

By Fyre

Chapter 6: A Letter From the Lost

Molly Weasley had just put the kettle on when she heard a ‘ping’ sound from the fire in the hearth and looked around to see the broadly-smiling face of Albus Dumbledore looking up at her.

"Professor!"

"Good afternoon, Molly."

"Oh! Do you want to come in for a cup of tea, Albus? I just put the kettle on."

He raised his eyes to the large copper kettle that was dangling over his head. "I had noticed, Molly." He said with a small smile.

The matronly women uttered a squeak of surprise, then hurriedly hoisted the kettle from the hook that was holding it over the crackling fire. "Sorry, Albus," She reached down to help him out of the flames. "I forgot that you wouldn’t walk through it."

"Not to worry, my dear." He dusted himself down with a smile, straightening his velvet hat. "It is actually quite an enjoyable sensation and I have heard rumours that it does wonders for the hair."

Mrs. Weasley stared blankly at him as if he had grown a second head, then laughed faintly. "So, I was making a cup of tea, Albus…would you like one?"

"It would be impolite of me to decline." He took one of the seats at the table, as Mrs. Weasley manhandled the kettle back into place on the hook. Moving to the cupboards, she hummed to herself, as she gathered two cups and saucers.

She returned to the table to see him placing a white envelope on the surface. One of the cups slipped from her hands and smashed on the floor, the colour flooding from her face.

"Are you all right, Molly?" He started to rise, but the plump witch motioned for him to sit, shakily sinking into the chair opposite him. Absently, she tugged out her wand and pointed it.

"Reparo." The teacup’s shattered pieces flew together and she made another gesture with the wand. "Accio." It flew to her hand She placed it carefully beside the one on the table, her eyes still on the letter.

There was no way that the letter was from anyone in the Wizarding World. No one in their World used plain white sheets or envelopes. It was always parchment of varying thickness and colour.

"Is that…?"

"From Willow."

Molly’s face creased in confusion. "Willow?"

Dumbledore nodded, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "That was the name that they gave her." He smiled faintly. "If I remember correctly, Pettigrew had a wand made of willow and very little imagination."

"It’s a very pretty name." Her hands were shaking, the tip of her wand drumming on the tabletop, her tear-filled eyes still fixed on the envelope. "Is she pretty? And well? Is she well?"

The older wizard nodded, reaching into the depths of his robes again. "I thought you would ask, so I had got some photographs from her and had some taken as well." He produced the sheaf of pictures and handed them to Willow’s mother.

Unable to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks, Molly looked down at the pictures, the muggle ones at the top of the pile.

"Is this her?" She asked, even though she didn’t really have to. She could see that Willow had inherited her father’s smooth, silky hair and distinct features. In the first pictures, the red head was alone, but as Molly started moving through the pile, more faces joined her.

"Those are her friends." Dumbledore said softly.

"She looks so happy…so very happy…and her friends…you met them as well?" The main faces that seemed to stand out again and again were those of a blonde-haired girl, a dark-haired boy and a slightly older boy whose wild hair seemed to be different colours in every picture.

"I did." He nodded. "They’re a good group and love your daughter as much as she loves each of them."

"And they know…about us, I mean? About our world?"

"There is little doubt that they knew of our world before I ever got there." The old Wizard said softly. "The girl in the pictures is Buffy Summers, Willow’s best friend and the Slayer." Molly’s eyes rose to him in surprise. Dumbledore chuckled, nodding to the other two. "The dark-haired young fellow is Xander, her lifelong friend and the other is Oz."

"Goodness! Surely this isn’t…" Her fingers touched the picture and she shook her head in disbelief. "She knows Rupert?"

"She does." Dumbledore watched the smile of reminiscence spreading across the plump little Witch’s face. "He was Buffy’s Watcher and a kind of substitute father figure for her. Her adoptive parents were…have become less than attentive to her, so she became solidly involved in that small group."

"They all know about the Slayer as well?" Molly raised her brows. "I thought she was meant to work in isolation, in case the Muggle world realised that there was some kind of magic involved in her."

"That’s the amusing thing." Dumbledore said, motioning to one of the pictures taken with a Wizard Camera, in which the little group was armed to the teeth with swords, axes and stakes, wearing broad grins and chatting to each other. "They help her to fight against the Dark Side."

The shrill whistle of the kettle drowned out whatever word Molly had said, but Dumbledore could lip-read and couldn’t help smiling. Such language, he knew, was a very rare thing for a woman like Molly.

For several minutes, she rattled around, making the tea and sending biscuits flying from the jars and onto a plate on the table. She seemed to have calmed herself in the process and, by the time she returned to the table with the teapot and milk, she was able to find a smile, albeit a slightly strained one.

"Milk?" She cleared her throat, after a rather embarrassing squeak escaped her and repeated more steadily. "Milk, Albus?"

"Please." He waited until she had poured both tea and milk, aware of the shaking of her hands. It was more than a little obvious, considering the fact that the lid of the teapot was rattling.

"Were you serious?" She burst out, slamming the teapot down forcefully on the table, lest it shivered its way out of her trembling hands.

"That your teenage daughter has been involved in defense against the dark arts since she was thirteen and has saved the World several times?" He asked mildly, sipping his tea. "Yes, I was completely serious."

"S-saved the World?"

"You sound surprised." He couldn’t prevent the smile from spreading across his face this time. "She and her friends have closed the Hellmouth and fought the demons that thrive upon it for the past four years." He chuckled at the memory of Anya. "One of her friends is even romantically linked with a former vengeance demon."

"Goodness…" The little Witch hastily gulped down a mouthful of scalding tea, looking at the pictures spread on the table, then at the envelope that sat – unopened – in front of her. "Albus, would you…I…"

"If you wish me to stay while you read the letter, I can, Molly."

She nodded, unable to form the words as she reached for the letter. Her hand was shaking so violently, she could barley pick it up, unsteadily tearing the envelope open and withdrawing the single sheet of paper.

Slowly unfolding the crisp sheet, she looked down at the page, a weak smile breaking on her lips. "She has beautiful hand-writing." She murmured quietly. "Gets that from me."

"I’m sure." Dumbledore nodded, as the red-haired witch started to read the letter written to her by her long-lost daughter.

***

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

I don’t know if I should call you mom and dad are what, but if that’s what you’d like me to do, I guess I can. I’m called Willow, but Professor Dumbledore told me that you named me Sarah. It’s a nice name.

Since I can’t come to meet you yet, because I have to finish my school year, Professor Dumbledore thought it would be a good idea for me to write to you and tell you a bit about me, so we can keep in contact by Owl.

I guess you know how old I am and everything like that, so I should probably tell you what I’m like. I’m a student at U.C. Sunnydale and I live with my friend Buffy (she says I can tell you she’s the Slayer, cos you’re my mom and Professor Dumbledore probably already told you).

I always thought and maybe kind of hoped that I was adopted. It explained why my parents, my adopted parents, always seemed distant from me when I was young. They were never close to me like everyone else’s parents were to their own children and when Professor Dumbledore told me that I was adopted, I was kinda shocked that it was actually true, but I also feel like I knew it anyway.

Xander (my best friend since Kindergarten) and I used to joke about it. Both of us wanted to have families like in the stories and movies. Neither of us every expected it to happen, but now, I have a proper family (Xander wants to know if there’s somewhere he can sign up for it too).

Anyway, I should tell you about my other friends too. Buffy has been my friend for four years and I’ve been helping her fight vampires and stuff, because it didn’t seem fair that she had to do it on her own. She’s nice, super-hero strong and way cooler than I am.

Xander is great. He’s been my best friend since forever, along with Jesse (Jesse died just after I met Buffy. He got turned into a vampire, but Buffy saved the rest of us) and he’s not at school with us, but he’s still one of our best friends.

Then there’s Oz. Oz is Daniel Osbourne, my boyfriend. He’s also a werewolf, but don’t be freaked! His baby nephew bit him and it turned out his nephew was a baby werewolf (a puppy…how cute!) and since then, I get a wolfie boyfriend to lock in a cage three nights a month. He’s a really nice, cute werewolf, when he’s in his cage and everything. He’s never hurt anyone.

Anya is a sort-of friend. She started dating Xander, after getting turned back into a human again, after screwing up at her job. She was a Vengeance Demon for more than a thousand years and I guess she’s kind of okay, once you get used to all the bluntness and rudeness.

Giles says I shouldn’t mention him, but since you’re in the photos, I guess I have an excuse, if he asks why you know he’s here. He’s the one who took care of all of us, really. He made sure we didn’t get in trouble and got all of us through School, in between helping save the World. He says he knew you both at school and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

Anyway, I have to finish this now. Professor Dumbledore will be leaving soon and he’s bringing this letter to you. I hope you are well and all of the rest of the family are as well (It still feels weird being told that I’m related to people that everyone I know thinks are fictional).

Take care,

Willow Rosenberg (Sarah Weasley)

***

Molly laid the letter down, tears pouring uncontrollably down her face. The wizard across the table reached out to squeeze her hand gently, pulling a bar of chocolate out of one of his pockets.

"I know this probably won’t make much difference to how you’re feeling just now, Molly." He said softly. "But Willow thought you might need some." He laid a bar of Hershey’s on the table and gave her hand another squeeze. "It’s a gift."

"She’s a good girl, isn’t she, Albus?" The witch whispered softly.

"Yes, Molly." He nodded, with a gentle smile. "She is."


Chapter 7: Family Revelations

Rupert Giles was tidying his files and folders around his living room when a ‘ping’ from the fireplace made him look around, his mouth falling open in shock at the sight of a head sitting in green flames that he certainly didn’t recall lighting.

“A-Art?”

“Rupert.”

Dropping all the books he had in his arms on the coffee table in the middle of his living room, Giles crossed the floor and knelt by the fireplace immediately, staring at the face of his long-time friend, which looked a peculiar shade of green thanks to the flames licking around his ears. “Good God, Art, its been forever!”

“And then some, eh, Rupert?” Arthur Weasley smiled a little. “I hear you’ve been looking after one of ours...”

“Willow,” he smiled in return, still studying the face of Weasley. “I don’t know how I could have missed that she was one of your brood. She has your nose and mouth and that shocking hair of yours.”

“Now, that’s good to hear?”

“What?”

“That she’s as good-looking as her old man,” said Arthur, a twinkle in his eye.

“Poor kid that she is,” Giles smirked. It was replaced with a genuine smile. “Art...”

“Yes, it has been far too long since we talked.”

The Watcher chuckled, sitting down on the edge of the hearth and removing his spectacles to clean them. “You know me far too well, Art,” he remarked. “You still can answer my questions before I ask.”

“We were friends, Rupert.”

“Were?”

A strange expression crossed Arthur Weasley’s face. “You never actually told me if you forgave me, Rupe,” he said quietly. “I still see you as one of my best friends, but I don’t know if you...”

“Art Weasley, you bloody plonker...”

“Rupert, I am sorry you know.”

“I forgave you the minute I saw you together, when you didn’t think I was looking, Art,” Giles said, looking down at the floor between his slippered feet. There was a note of sadness in his voice. “I saw the way you looked at her and the way she looked at you...”

“It doesn’t stop me being sorry for not telling you sooner, Rupe,” Arthur said. “You deserved more than that. You were my best mate,” he paused, then added with a tired smile. “Our best mate.”

A silence fell for a moment.

“How is she?”

“Molly? Wonderful,” replied Arthur. “I mean, she’s had eight of my kids and she’s still as batty as she ever was.”

“If having eight of your rugrats didn’t make her crazier, nothing would, Art.”

“You make eight sound like a big number, Rupert,” Arthur laughed. “How many do you have?”

“Well, I do seem to have picked up a few with rather...absent parents. Willow is one of them, along with Buffy and Xander...and I suppose Anya would qualify as well...”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Rupert, I meant your children. Didn’t you ever get hitched and have a flock of mini-Ruperts?”

“Me? Have children? You must be bloody joking!”

“You never settled down?”

Giles shook his head, one hand rising to rub his chest. It was feeling strangely tight and this subject...it was one he hadn’t dared to broach for some time. “Never had the urge to, what with watcher training and all...”

“Rupert.”

“I’m serious, Art.”

“So am I, Rupert.”

Giles looked away from his friend’s face at the glasses that were dangling from his hand, his fingers absently swinging them back and forwards. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, his voice strained.

“I want to know that it wasn’t because of what happened between all of us,” Arthur said. “Rupert, if I took away your chance of being happy, when I took Molly, I want to know...”

“Art, don’t be a bloody arse! Yes, I loved Molly, but don’t think I haven’t had my share of women over the years...”

“I heard about you and Ethan getting involved with those...people.”

His arms resting on his upraised knees, folded over his chest in front of him, Giles rested his forehead on his crossed wrists. “Yes, I got involved with demons and my choices of additional friends weren’t exactly good.”

“Ethan always was a bad influence.”

“It was my idea,” Giles whispered wearily. “I needed to do something...something to piss my wonderful father off and to...to take my mind off the fact that you...that she and you were in love with each other, whereas, I was besotted and had no one...”

“Rupert...”

Turning back to the fire, Giles pointed a finger at Arthur. “You even think about starting to apologise again and I swear I’ll come over there just to beat your sorry arse into submission.”

“Nice to see you haven’t lost your edge, Rupert.”

“Sarcastic git,” Giles retorted. “And for your information, I have had several women involved in my life since I last saw you, although there was a rather... uncomfortable occasion involving cursed chocolate and a police car...” Giles paused, then grinned weakly. “Somehow, whenever I end up shagging someone in a strange place, it’s all down to Ethan...”

“In a pleaze-car?” Arthur laughed. “Good grief, Rupert...”

“Not in a police-car, Art. On. There's a big difference...comfortable seats for one thing,” Giles corrected, chuckling. “Do you have time for the full, messy story?”

“I have all the time you need, Rupert. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Giles nodded. “Just to warn you, it’s going to be one helluva bumpy ride, Art.”

“I suspected it might be, Rupert,” Weasley nodded. “So, tell me about this incident with the chocolate and pleaze-car.”

***

"A Slayer?"

Even Percy looked impressed. "Our baby sister is a friend of the Vampire Slayer?" he grinned broadly. "That'll certainly be something to tell the chaps at work."

The whole Weasley family had gathered again, after the arrival of the letter and photographs from America. Dumbledore had waited until Arthur returned from work before leaving The Burrow, to return to Hogwarts.

By the time all of the children had gathered, Molly had managed to calm herself down, although her smile seemed to be locked on her face.

Most of the family was able to take time off work again, to see what was going on with their long-lost sibling.

Even Harry had finally decided he should get back to Quidditch Training with the England Team, canceling the next two years of the Honeymoon for training for the next World Cup, which meant he and Ginny had been easier to track down.

"She lives in the same dormitory as her at college, actually," Molly passed around the bundle of photographs with a smile. Her husband had his arm around her shoulders and was smiling as broadly as his wife was. "Apparently, she has helped that Slayer – and two other Slayers as well – to save the World several times."

Charlie raised a brow curiously. "She helps the Slayer? She fights against the Dark Arts and everything?" he asked, surprised. "Does she do the fighting or spells and things? With no training or anything?"

"She does a little of both and she's very good at what she does, according to Professor Dumbledore," Molly nodded, her smile widening. "She doesn't even have a wand to use, but she can still do many of the spells and charms through sheer mind control."

"Blimey," Fred muttered, impressed.

"How could she help two other Slayers, as well?" Fleur, Bill's French wife asked. "I thought there was only one Slayer at a time and the next only became a Slayer when the one before... uh... died?"

Molly nodded. "Albus tried to explain it to me, but I'm not quite sure I full understand it," she frowned and then said. "Her friend, Buffy, was destined to die and she did, but their other friend, Xander, resuscitated her."

"Rough deal," Charlie winced.

Molly nodded, then continued, "However, because she actually died, even for those few seconds, the next Slayer was activated and ended up fighting by her side. That Slayer was killed and another one was called. I think they said something about her being in jail now."

"They seem to die off pretty quickly," Ron noted with a grimace. "How long has her friend been the Slayer now?"

"I think they said something about five years to Dumbledore, which is some kind of record."

"What kind of things has Sarah done to help them, then?"

This time, their parents exchanged closed looks. "Should we tell them everything, Molly?" Arthur murmured so softly that they had to strain to hear what he was saying. "We don't want them being afraid of her, do we?"

"And if that doesn't make us paranoid about her, nothing will," Ron noted dryly. "You have to learn to whisper more quietly, dad."

Molly laughed faintly, then nodded to Arthur reassuringly. "Albus did say something about her... er... successfully placing a very powerful curse on a vampire, giving him a soul, when she had just come out of a coma," Several mouths fell open.

"Isn't that...of the Ancient Magic?" Fleur asked faintly. "The kind of magic it takes many years to build up to doing?"

"That it is," Bill nodded. The colour seemed to have flooded from his face. "How old was she when she did this?"

Molly wound her hands together in her flowered apron. "Just after she turned seventeen," she replied quietly. The stunned looks around the living room grew even more so. "Apparently, many of her magical abilities have been developed in the last two or three years and she is almost entirely self-taught."

"Where did she get hold of any of the Ancient Magics, though?" Percy exclaimed, shaking his head in a combination of shock, disbelief and protest. "The spells were meant to have been lost some time in the last century!"

Arthur lowered his head briefly. "It was from a Gypsy, who managed to translate it using a computer. She was killed before she could do the spell herself and, even if she had tried, I don't believe she could have succeeded."

"Uh...how do you know that, dad?" Ron asked.

"I went to school with the Gypsy's boyfriend," Arthur replied softly. "Apparently, he's been watching over Sarah for almost four years, without even realising it. I got in touch with him this afternoon and he told me all about the situation," He looked around at them. "Never let it be said that this Slayer has not suffered."

"What do you mean, dad?" Charlie inquired.

"She fell in love with a vampire who was cursed with a soul," Arthur felt Molly squeeze his hand comfortingly. "He lost the soul, because of their love and he killed my friend's lover, the Gypsy woman," A pained look crossed the man's face. "The Slayer was forced to kill him, to save the World, but not before Sarah had managed to recurse him. None of them believed it would work, because Sarah was so weak, but it did work and Buffy had to send the one she loved to Hell."

"Poor child," Molly murmured sadly. "Sarah must have nearly killed herself doing that kind of spell,"she shook her head and sighed. "That's not all our little one has done, though," she continued. "She closed the Hellmouth on more than one occasion, which even Dumbledore would never have tried doing."

"Why not?" Ginny asked weakly, her head still spinning from the revelations about her twin sister's abilities.

"The mystical energy around a Hellmouth is very unstable, Ginny," Percy replied, a look of stunned awe on his face. "A lot of Wizards and Witches can't control their power enough to perform even basic spells there."

"And our baby sister can close the Hellmouth, without any training at all..." George added, with an awed whistle. "Something tells me that we've got someone who could even rival Bill and Perce's record for O.W.L.S."

"If the Professor was right, she's actually very similar to Hermione in personality," their father said with an indulgent smile. "She's incredibly clever, very quick on her feet, faces danger in spite of fear and is very powerful." A smile of pride crossed his lips. "She faced demons and vampires to save her friends."

"Better make sure those two don't meet up, then, eh?" Ron forced a grin. "I mean, I thought one Hermione was bad, but two...and this one related to me..." He shook his head. "I thought I'd finally got away from that kind of thing."

"I was actually quite looking forward to introducing them," Molly gave her youngest son a pointed look. "She doesn't know anything about our world and who better to teach her about it than Hermione? She also had a Muggle background, remember, and is probably the cleverest witch that we know."

"Good idea, mum," Bill nodded in approval. "Its going to be well weird for her to come into this world, even though she's used to magic," He gave his mother a lop-sided grin. "Mind you, if she can control her power on a Hellmouth, anywhere else is going to be easy, isn't it?"

Ginny had received the handful of photographs and was flicking through them. "She doesn't look much like me, does she?"

"She's taken my stunning good looks," Arthur said with a smile. "You look like your mother, but Sarah...Willow...she looks more like me. She even has the straight hair that I used to have," He fingered his bald scalp and the remaining strands of silky red hair around his crown. "You've got your mum's curls."

"Question. What do we call her?" Harry inquired. "Sarah or Willow?"

Arthur and Molly exchanged glances. "Well, she's used to being called Willow, so I think it would be easier calling her that, unless she wants to be called Sarah," Molly replied. "And Willow is such a pretty name as well."

"Will she becoming to see us soon?" Ginny looked up from the photographs hopefully. "I'd like to meet her."

"She's studying just now, so Professor Dumbledore says she will try to come over this summer. He also said he may let her bring some of her friends over. Her Slayer friend was very interested in Diagon Alley and wants to see what Wizards...er...Malls, I think she called them, looked like."

Fleur received the pictures from the young Mrs. Potter. "Your daughter is a very pretty girl, is she not?" she said, examining the faces in the photographs and directing her words at Molly. She looked at the dark-haired boy and blonde who were hugging the red head in one of the pictures. "Is this her boyfriend?"

Molly peered over at the picture. "Oh, no. That's Xander, one of her best friends. They were best friends since they were toddlers. She’s not dating him," she paused for dramatic effect, then added with a wicked smile. "And she says that she’s dating a werewolf."

"A werewolf?" Percy spluttered.

"No, an Iranian Mongoose, Perce," Bill put in, shooting an irritated look at the bespectacled brother, who was sitting on the couch next to his parents. "What's wrong with werewolves? Old Lupin is a werewolf."

"Yes, but..." Percy looked around weakly. "You don't DATE them."

Molly chuckled, reaching over to squeeze her third son's knee. "Well, one of her best friends is dating an ex-Vengeance demon, another one was involved with a vampire, so apparently, they're more open about cross-species relationships there."

"Ex-Vengeance Demon? Vampire?" Fred blinked. "Okay, I knew they were brave and all, living on the Hellmouth and everything, but dating vampires, werewolves and demons...isn't that going a bit far too prove a point?"

"You have to remember that werewolves are only like that three nights of a month, Fred," Harry said. "Most of the time, they're really nice people, who can't help what happens to them on the full moon. Just look at Lupin," he shrugged. "Maybe ex-demons are like that too."

"I'm sure her boyfriend is a very nice young man," Molly added. "Albus said he was very quiet, but seemed like a nice fellow," she smiled slightly. "And we Weasley women tend to have good taste in men."

"Seconded," Ginny laughed.

"You have to admit, though," Bill said, eyeing his own wife. "That you can’t do better than a Weasley man."

Molly and Fleur exchanged knowing glances, then smiled. "Won’t disagree with that," His mother said, reaching up to embrace her husband.

***

“Whatcha thinking, Willow?”

Lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, Willow’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m not an only child.”

“I’ll say!” Buffy laughed. She was sitting on her own bed, which stood parallel to Willow’s, kicking her boots off, having just returned from an hour of slaying with her latest beau. “When you get brothers and sisters, you do it big time!”

“Yeah, but...but I’m the first one of the Scoobies to have any...” Rolling onto her side to look across at her friend, the red-haired witch looked upset for some reason. “I mean, that’s kinda part of the reason we were together...I didn’t have a family, so I hung out with you and then you kinda became my family...”

“Will, you having an army of brothers and a sister doesn’t make you less of a Scooby!”

“But...”

“Will!” Willow’s lower lip trembled at the vehemence in the Slayer’s voice. “Hey, don’t you get all twitchy on me!” Buffy said patiently, crossing the room and sitting down on her roommate’s bed. “You’re a Scooby. You’re one of the first Scoobies and you always will be.”

Sniffing a little, as Buffy fondly brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face, the red head nodded. “I’m being weird again, huh?”

“Always, Will. That’s why we love you.”

Sitting up, Willow scrubbed her eyes with her fists. “Do you think they’ll...y’know... like me, Buffy?”

“How could they not?”

The witch had obviously been considering that carefully.

“Well, there’s a whole lot of reasons,” she began. “I mean, messed up spell with evil skanky vampire and then the whole thing with Faith-the-psycho that might put them in danger, then the whole uber-powerful witchy thing with the Hellmouth and the souly thing and I don’t wanna start on the accidental...”

“Will,” Buffy couldn’t help laughing. “They’re going to love you,” she smiled, and said. “And if Riley and me don’t work out, I could always take one of your brothers and we could be sisters-in-law.”

The red head rolled her eyes. “Now that’s crazy talk,” she said.

“Feeling better, now?”

Willow nodded, managing a weak smile. “Yeah,” she replied. “Yeah. I’m good. Part of a super-large King-size family with magic fries on the side, but yeah. I’m good.”

Buffy smiled. “You’ll be fine, Will,” she said. “I know it.”


Chapter 8: The Next Step

Giles looked around at the bustling terminal of Heathrow and nodded with a broad smile. "Yes, Xander, this would be England."

"I thought it would be bigger," The dark-haired youth shot a mischievous smirk in Giles' direction, awaiting the inevitable glare that would follow.

The small group of six from Sunnydale were standing at the conveyer belt, awaiting their luggage, after the long flight from California, via Tennessee and a changeover at New York's John F. Kennedy Airport.

The mode of transport seemed fairly mundane, considering the place they were going to, but Giles had insisted he would feel better about them using public transport, as opposed to risking losing one or all of them with Floo-Powder.

A portkey had also been discarded as a possible mode of transport for the group, but solely for the fact that the powers of the Hellmouth often made them behave strangely and meant they frequently deposited their users in the middle of nowhere.

Giles had decided it wouldn’t be the best of ideas to have the youngest Weasley ending up in Moldavia, or somewhere just as bizarre, while he tried to explain to her family that she had accidentally gotten misplaced.

Again.

Especially since it was the first time they were going to be meeting her on a face-to-face basis.

It had been nearly six months since the revelations of Willow's parentage and now, it was the middle of June and the red-haired witch was coming to meet the family she had been in contact with since the day Dumbledore had visited her.

From that day, to the one that had brought them to the airport in England, Willow had been receiving and sending owl-mails to her family, learning about who they were and what they were like.

She had already confessed to Buffy that she had a sort-of-favourite, in the form of Ron, the youngest of her elder brothers, who had written to her on an almost daily basis, with all the updates of what was and wasn’t happening in their family.

He reminded her a lot of Xander, with a strange sense of humour and a knack of making her smile with a few choice words, even if they were written down, instead of said to her face.

His weeny owl, Pigwidgeon, had often spent a day sleeping on her bed, after delivering a weeks worth of letters, which Willow would reply to all of and send back in one large batch.

Both of them had been pleasantly surprised that the little bird hadn’t had a heart attack somewhere over the Atlantic.

The bird, despite it’s size, was resilient and apparently loved doing the deliveries, which made it all the cuter when it started hooting excitedly, when Willow tied a letter to it’s little leg.

Now, less than two hours away from the place she would meet her family, Willow was starting to look a little pale.

"So, Will, how does it feel being back in your homeland?"

"I-I'm not sure I can do this."

"And you didn't think to tell us this, before we travelled half way around the world?"

Buffy punched Xander's arm, making the boy yelp. "Shut up, Xander," She reached over to squeeze Willow's hand comfortingly. "Of course you can do this, Will. This is nothing. You're just meeting your family for the first time. No big."

"Can't I just go back and close the Hellmouth again?" the red head asked hopefully, a worried look on her face. "I mean, what if they don't like me and think I'm weird and they don't want to be related to me or they laugh at me and think I'm crazy..."

"They're going to love you, Willow," Oz said quietly to her, with his familiar, quiet smile. His hands came to rest at her waist, his touch soothing her. "Who wouldn't?"

"You really think so?"

His fingertips drifted up her side and down one arm, to skim her fingers lightly and he nodded with certainty. "I know so."

"And even if they do hate you, you got a free vacation from the nice Wizard with the big beard," Anya put in brightly, smiling. The former demon really seemed very taken with Dumbledore. "I think they will like you though. Most people do," she paused, then added. "Except I don't really."

Willow smiled faintly, then turned her attention to the Englishman further down the conveyor belt. "Where did you say we were going to meet them, Giles?" she asked. "Will it just be them or will there be a lot of people?"

"You've heard of The Leaky Cauldron from your reading?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's where we're going to," Giles paused to snatch a small duffle bag off the belt and drop it at his feet. "Dumbledore will have arranged something, so you can have some privacy. The rest of us will be dropping into Diagon Alley."

"That's the place with the stores, right?"

"Yes, Buffy," the Watcher said with a long-suffering sigh. "That's where all the shops are," A small, slightly devious smile edged onto his lips. "I'm sure you're going to find it a fascinating place to visit."

"You know, when you say somewhere is a ‘fascinating place’, I think I should be worrying," The Slayer pulled a face at him.

Giles chuckled. "You understand my secret code words so well, Buffy, I think I should begin to worry about you," He nodded to a large, hefty-looking case on the conveyor belt, smiling as the petite blonde swung it off easily and dropped it at her feet with a weight ‘thump’. "And my own mental health..."

"G-Man, we always worry about your mental health," Xander remarked, snatching his khaki-coloured, patched rucksack as it passed him.

"Alexander LaVelle Harris," the former Librarian replied seriously, hiding a smirk as the younger man flinched. "While we are here, on my terms and territory, I would be obliged if you didn't call me G-Man ever."

"Why?"

"Because I am a Wizard and I happen to think you would make a very fetching frog," Giles gave him a slight smile edged with just enough of Ripper-style glee to make the teenager shudder. "Have we reached an understanding?"

Xander nodded hastily. "Completely."

"You can't turn my boyfriend into a frog!" Anya exclaimed in annoyance. "We wouldn't be able to have sex if he was a frog!" Her brow wrinkled. "Well, we could, but I don't think it would be very satisfying for either of us."

All of this was said in a loud and very audible voice, receiving startled and amused looks from other travellers gathered near the busy conveyor belt.

"Anya, not so loud, honey," Xander muttered, pulling her against his chest. "Some things aren’t for public outbursts."

Anya pouted, toying with the round plastic buttons on the front of his shirt. "But I don't want him to turn you into a frog, Xander," she said, sounding a little hurt. "You would probably be a very attractive frog, but you wouldn't be a very good orgasm friend...or boyfriend."

"You heard her, Giles," Buffy put in dryly, rolling her eyes. "You wouldn't want Anya to miss her orgasm quota for the day."

"See!" the former demon exclaimed, with a broad smile in Buffy's direction. "Even Buffy understands that I have needs."

Giles rolled his eyes with a low groan. "God help the Wizarding world..."

***

"Bill, at least brush your hair."

"It's fine, mum."

Molly wrung her hands, trying to get the rest of the family organised. Even though they were all adults, she still didn't trust a single one of them to dress themselves properly. "I just want to make a good impression."

"We know, mum," Fred sighed, looking down at his carefully-ironed jeans and shirt that he had been forced to wear. It had taken begging, pleading and on-his-knees howling to convince his mother to even let him wear something as casual as that.

However, he - along with each of his brothers - had managed to persuade Molly that wearing a tuxedo and black bow-tie was a little bit too much.

Tugging at the end of his shirt, sighing, Fred shook his head. He was already missing the messy lab coat that was a constant part of his wardrobe.

"I'll leave you all to meet her first," Harry volunteered, drawing some dark looks from his brothers-in-law. He was the only member of the family who had not been told to flatten his hair about ten times already. Or to change out of the comfortable clothes he was wearing. Or breathe in a more ‘normal’ way. "I'm meant to be meeting Viktor about some new Quidditch techniques."

Arthur nodded vaguely, looking through the drawers in the kitchen. "Very good, Harry... Molly, where did you put my blue and green checked tie?"

"Its hanging up in the wardrobe in the bedroom, where it always is, dear," Molly replied, taking a shot with her wand at an uncontrollable tuft of George's hair that refused to lie flat. "Stay still, George! This doesn't hurt!"

"Leave my hair alone, mum!" George protested frantically, swatting her wand hand away as she tried to aim closer. He hopped to the side as his father ran past. "She's not about to run away from the family screaming if one of us has messy hair."

“Now, George! I just want you to look your best!” Molly grabbed him by the ear, holding him still, ignoring his yells. “Now, hold still and stop being a baby!”

"If anything, having a loony mother chasing her around the room and jabbing a wand at her head'll make her run screaming," Ron agreed with his brother, his voice glum.

He had already been at the receiving end of the wand, his hair looking like a solid block of plastic hair. He wasn't amused.

Ginny, though, was staying strangely silent, standing next to Harry out of the way of the madness going on in the middle of the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back in a braid and her face looked strained and nervous.

"How are you feeling there, baby sister?" Charlie gave her a gentle nudge. He was the only one who had been able to avoid their mother’s wrath, by means his brothers didn’t comprehend. He was as messy as ever, a couple of shiny burns on his face and his hair a singed mass of blackened frizz above his face.

"Do we have to go?" In a brief silence as Molly muted George, Ginny's shaking words reached every member of her family. "I mean, what if she doesn't like us? What if she thinks we're all weird and doesn't want to even know us after everything?"

"Impossible," Harry stated firmly. "She's going to love you."

Fleur nodded. "Not many Wizarding families are disliking this family," she agreed emphatically with a fond look at her flame-haired husband. He winked at her with a devilish grin. "She will be nervous, as you are."

"Do-do you think so?" Ginny asked, a little colour returning to her pale face.

"Of course," Harry hugged her with a broad smile. "And even if she's terrified of all the brothers, there's no way she couldn't like you." He nudged his nose playfully against hers. "If I married you, there has to be something likeable, eh?"

"Cocky git," this was said with a smile and she claimed a quick kiss from her husband. Ron made vomiting noises in the background and immediately received a rude gesture from his sister.

Harry, though, gave her a mock-shocked look. "Me? Cocky?" A broad grin spread across his face, green eyes dancing. "I have no idea where you get that idea... unless you've been comparing notes with Old Snape."

"Oh, of course, you're just so modest, Mister I'm-The-Youngest-Player-The-England-Quidditch-Team-Have-Ever-Had," Ron snickered, dodging another blast from his mother's wand, when she realised he had managed to uncurse the fluffy tufts of hair that seemed to have a mind of their own.

Ginny looked hopelessly at the chuckling Fleur. "And they wonder why I'm worried about Willow meeting us," she said, shaking her head.

***

Dumbledore was comfortably settled in the tower-top room that he had as an office, behind the wide desk, reading through the grades of the students, when he heard a repetitive tap-tap-tap on the window.

With a gesture of his wand, the window opened and a large tawny owl soared in, landing neatly on the desk and dropping an envelope on the surface for him.

One of Dumbledore’s long-fingered hands came out and picked up the letter, turning it over. A fairly fresh seal was pressed into the wax on the back: an image of one of those muggle aeroplanes.

Despite the smile that spread on his lips, already more than aware of who the letter was from and what it was about, the wizard tore open the envelope and pulled out the crisp sheet of parchment.

It was very useful, he mused as he spread the sheet on the desk in front of him, to have friends and associates who worked in various sectors of the muggle-world to keep a look out for him.

This letter was from one of those very associates, who worked at the place known as Heathrow Airport, a muggle transport facility, just on the outskirts of London.

The writer of the letter, a young muggle-born by the name of Hector Rogers, had been placed on alert to watch for the impending arrival of Rupert Giles and his merry, madcap little band from the United States of America.

Apparently, Giles had been sighted at the airport.

And he certainly wasn’t alone, judging by Hector’s eager scrawl.

Professor Dumbledore couldn’t quell a small smile, as he read through the more than slightly excited description of the ‘three pretty young ladies’ whom Mr. Giles had brought with him.

Hector had reacted exactly as any other twenty-year-old would at the sight of Summers, Emerson and Weasley.

While he - Dumbledore - really didn’t pay attention such things as pretty young women, he chuckled at that thought, even a blind man would notice the three striking young women, each of them so very different.

Hector, despite not being blessed with a great abundance of power, had a wonderful sense of intuition about people and he had done more than simply ogle the triad of females accompanying Giles.

His assessments of each of them were spot on.

Miss Summers was the natural leader of the little group: strong-willed, determined, impetuous and incredibly brave. Dumbledore was rather looking forward to having her meet Harry on a one-to-one basis.

They were so very similar after all.

Miss Weasley seemed to puzzle Hector. He could tell she had some power, but he also seemed to have the odd feeling that she was a muggle, which made perfect sense considering her upbringing.

However, once she had a chance to learn about...

“Ah, Albus,” he murmured. “You’re getting ahead of yourself again.”

His attention went to the study of Miss Emerson, a smile lifting his lips.

Yes, this was a fascinating young, yet ancient woman.

Ever since he had met her in Sunnydale, the Head master of Hogwarts had been hoping to see the former Vengeance demon again. While Hector simply stated that there was something ‘off’ about her, Dumbledore knew that she was a perfect example of at least two utterly different worlds colliding.

She had an innocence to her that was charming, spoke her mind about anything and everything with a bluntness that was seldom found in anyone but a child, although her comments were less than child-like.

She truly was an incredibly interesting young woman.

And now, she and her two female companions, along with a muggle, a watcher and a werewolf were safely ensconced on British soil, he would give them time to settle, before making his presence known.

***

"These cabs are so cute!" Sitting on one of the fold-down seats in the cab, Buffy had been exclaiming about everything they had seen around them, from buildings, to streets, to the policemen their cabby had almost mown down.

"They're nothing special, Buffy," Giles said patiently, although he appeared mildly amused by the delight on the Slayer’s face, as she took in everything that she was seeing around them.

Her small hands and the tip of her nose were pressed to the window, staring out on the streets, as they sped along the London streets, but she looked over her shoulder at her watcher with a grin.

“But with the seats...and the foldy seats...” She motioned eagerly to the seat she was perched down, which was one of the two that folded down from the partition behind the cab driver. “You don’t get things like this in America!”

“Like I said, Buffy, they are standard,” Giles smiled, looking out of the window, as the taxi-cab came to a halt. "Ah... here we are." He nodded out at a non-descript building, sitting between two large, bright buildings. If he hadn't pointed it out none of them would have noticed it. "That’s where we're going."

Anya wrinkled her nose. "It looks like a dump. It probably smells bad too," She reluctantly let Xander steer her out of the cab, looking up at the sign that hanging over the door.

It was grubby, very old with peeling paint and the picture of a cauldron with a leak in the base was barely visible through the grime, swinging back and forth in the light breeze, squeaking softly.

"Its much better inside," Giles reassured her, pushing a handful of money into the cabby's waiting hand, as they piled out, carrying bags and cases and one very carefully concealed cage containing a transfigured-witch-cum-rat. "Now, is everyone sure they have everything?"

"Looks like it," Oz noted, taking Willow's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"All right, then," Carrying two bags, he led the little group towards the dirty-looking door. "Ladies and Gentleman...and Xander," He received an indignant look from the dark-haired teen as he pushed the door open. "Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron."


Chapter 9: The Leaky Cauldron

With the squeak of the door hinges, every single face in The Leaky Cauldron towards the bright rectangle of light of the doorway Eyes squinted and narrowed to focus on the group of figures standing there, only one familiar to anyone.

"Good grief!" One of the Hogwarts teachers who had been seated at a table with several colleagues, celebrating the end of a school year, stood up, staring at the lead figure with a combination of shock and surprise. "Rupert Giles...is that you?"

The former Watcher stared down at the tiny, white-haired Wizard. "Bloody hell!" He exclaimed with a laugh. "Professor Flitwick!" He wove his way around tables and chairs and staring customers, to bend and shake the little Wizard's hand. "Always one for recognising ex-pupil, eh, Professor?"

"How could I forget you, Mr. Giles?" The Charms Teacher smiled broadly, eyes glinting. "If you recall, I was unfortunate enough to be one of your teachers."

"And anything that happened to you that was in any way...er...bad, while I was at school, wasn't my fault."

"I'll believe that the day Minerva starts dancing around the school in a Tutu." Flitwick retorted with clear amusement. "You might have kept your hands clean, young Giles, but you were the Ring Leader of the Three Wise Monkeys and we all knew it."

Giles chuckled. "You know we preferred the Three Musketeers."

"Ah, yes," The white-haired Wizard sighed, shaking his head. "Fortunately, we teachers used the more accurate version." He looked past his former pupil to the group still standing awkwardly at the door. "Business?"

"You could say that." Motioning the group forward, Giles brought Buffy to the fore, letting Willow shielded herself with her boyfriend and best friend, hoping to keep her identity safe until she had met her family. "This is Buffy Summers."

Flitwick's eyes went wide. "Good heavens!" He leaned back to stare up at her. "The Slayer!"

Startled whispers rippled around the strangely quiet bar, making the blonde look around uncomfortably. "Uh... Giles? What's the deal?" She demanded. "How did the short guy know that I'm the Slayer?"

"You always knew you were famous in the Supernatural world, Buffy." Her Watcher said with a small smile. "The Wizarding World knows more about the Slayer and her existence than any muggles would."

"Uh...huh..." Suspiciously looking down at the small Wizard, she reluctantly had to smile as he took her hand and rose on his toes to bow over it to gallantly kiss her knuckles. "He knows I can kick him across the room, doesn't he?"

Flitwick looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Why else would I be trying to stay on your good side, Miss Summers?"

"Hello! Buffy Summers!" A shrill, nasal voice called from further up the bar. "Hello!" Both Slayer and Watcher looked around and recoiled in mutual horror at the sight of a Witch with badly-dyed blonde hair, fake-diamond- studded stilettos and gaudy acid green robes. "A word!"

"Run!" Flitwick hissed under his breath, quickly turning back to his drink, as the Witch swept towards them, a broad smile on her bespectacled face.

"Hello there!" The Witch trilled over-brightly. Her voice was like nails on a blackboard. "I'm Rita Skeeter." Tacky-looking jeweled glasses perched on her long, pointed nose. "Could I perhaps have a word?"

Buffy looked down at the notepad in the Witch's hand and the poison green feather quill that was zipping across the page, writing already. She looked back up at the Witch, staring closely at her. "Are you related to Dame Edna?" She asked. "You dress like him...her...it..."

A snort of laughter escaped Giles, who hastily covered his smirk with a hand, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back the laughter.

"Dame Who?" Rita Skeeter knew she had probably been insulted, but was determined that she would be the first Witch reporter to interview a Slayer.

"She's an ugly man who dresses up in drag and looks even uglier as a woman." Buffy replied blandly, ignoring the sniggering she could hear from Giles. Her gaze drifted over Skeeter's hideous robes. "It looks like you have the same stylist."

"Hahaha!"

Buffy raised a brow. "What was funny?" She asked, her hands balled into tight fists on her hips. Rita immediately stopped laughing, a look of uncertainty crossing her face. "I don't like being laughed at."

As emphasis, she picked up one of the thick metal spoons from the nearest table and easily bent it in half with her forefinger and thumb. Several jaws dropped. Wisely on her part, Skeeter took a startled step backwards, stepping on the hem of her robes and almost tripping, as the Slayer squeezed the crushed spoon into a round glob of metal.

"And," The petite blonde added. "You know what else really annoys me?" Rita Skeeter shook her head, looking ready to make notes. "Reporters..." She heaved a huge sigh. "Ever since they accused me of murdering someone, I kind of...haven't liked them much." She fixed Rita with a pointed stare. "I would really like the chance to show one how I feel." The solid lump of metal that had once been a spoon was implicitly placed on the table beside her. "So, Rita, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Rita's eyes were on the deformed spoon. "Wh-what?" Her quill had frozen, ink dripping silently onto the page of the notebook.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Buffy's voice dripped with sickening sweetness.

As if by magic - which it probably was - Skeeter's notebook and bright green quill vanished. "Oh, nothing important!" Her voice was a great deal shriller than it had been seconds before. "It was nice to meet you, but I'm afraid I must be going."

She darted away into the gatherings of witches and wizards in a flurry of hideous green robes and clacking, diamonte-studded shoes and apparently fled out of the bar.

Immediately, there was a deafening roar of laughter and applause that made the surprised Slayer blush slightly.

"Well done! Well done!" Flitwick squeaked enthusiastically. "No one has ever made Miss Skeeter depart faster than that!"

"But she may well put something in The Daily Prophet about you...she's not a good person to annoy." A plump witch with flyaway hair and dirt- stained hands and clothes nodded in the direction of the Slayer. "She always manages to publish something nasty."

Buffy looked around the faces at the closest table, then grinned wickedly. "Not if she wants to keep that badly-dressed, badly-dyed," She pulled a face as if it was the most heinous crime in the world. "Body intact."

"Buffy," Giles started to chastise her. "She is a human..."

The Slayer shrugged. "Doesn't mean I can't beat her senseless for crimes against fashion, does it?"

"She does have a point there." Anya offered from behind Xander. "Anyone who wears that colour should be taken out and shot like a dog in the street." She frowned slightly. "I don't understand why someone would shoot a dog in the street, but its a phrase I read in a book somewhere and I like it and I think that the Skeeter-woman should be."

"Giles," Buffy looked to her Watcher. "Just promise me that - no matter how evil you went when you were younger - you never ever wore that colour voluntarily. If you did, I would have to kill you now."

"Fortunately, while my common sense left me, I did retain some sense of taste and decency."

"Taste?" Xander raised his brows. Giles raised his finger. "Whoa! G-Man! You got yourself a nice bird there."

"Anya, be a dear and warn your frog to keep his mouth shut." Giles remarked, then turned back to Professor Flitwick. Xander clapped his mouth shut quickly. "Professor, have you seen Dumbledore hereabouts, lately? We were meant to meet him here."

Tom, the Innkeeper, who was standing behind the bar, cleared his throat. "He said he would be here in a bit, Mr. Giles." He called over. "He's booked rooms for you, if you want to take your luggage up to them now..."

"That would be marvelous." Giles nodded. "After so much time in planes, it would be nice to have somewhere to take a quick nap."

"But I wanted to go to see the stores!" Anya exclaimed, only to be silenced with a cautioning look from Xander. "Well, I guess I could sleep for a while, even if the neat stores are right behind the pub." She grumbled.

"We have plenty of time, Anya." Giles reminded her, motioning for the group to follow him towards the old barkeep, who had hauled a large ring of keys out from beneath the bar and was trying to pull three off it.

"Follow me." Tom said, as the group neared, giving up on liberating the keys for the time being and hauling the whole ring with him.

They were led through strangely wide hallways that looked simply too big to fit into the tiny pub, numerous dark, wooden doors lining the walls, each with brass numbers screwed onto them and gleaming in the faint light cast by the oil-burning lamps on the walls.

"How big is this place?" Buffy asked with amazement, as they passed the twentieth door in the corridor and started up a long flight of stairs.

Tom looked back at her with a timid, toothless grin. "Well, we have five hundred rooms available, if we need them, Miss Summers." He replied, opening a large door that led into another insanely wide corridor. "Usually, we only have the usual two hundred."

"Must be useful." Oz murmured. "Kind of like a tardis."

"That seems to be an analogy that muggles use a lot." Tom agreed, grinning a gummy smile in the direction of the werewolf. He paused in front of the door numbered 314 in bold, brass numbers, raising a bushy brow when the Slayer and her friends started laughing. "Is there something amusing?"

Shaking his head, Giles quelled a chuckle. "You really don't want to know, Tom, believe me." He said, with a faint grin. "Its a long story and no doubt it'll find its way into The Daily Prophet some time during our stay."

"Giles, I gotta have this room!" Buffy said determinedly. "Me and Will'll take it!"

"Very well," Tom nodded, resorting to using his wand to remove the key from the ring and handing it to her. "Your friends will be in rooms 315 and 316." He looked at Giles. "Is that all right by you?"

"That'll be fine." Giles replied with a nod.

***

"Neat! Check out the invisible city!" Buffy was leaning out of the window. She could hear the sounds of the city, but there had to be some kind of spell on the view that meant that the room owner saw only beautiful scenery that could have come from any idyllic novel.

It was very strange to hear such contrary sounds and sights outside of the window.

The view before her looked like it was from some kind of fantasy film, with a stunning waterfall pouring down a sheer cliff and blue skies high above them. Forests spread around both sides of them and she found herself wondering what view the other rooms had.

It was nearly four hours since they had all arrived at The Leaky Cauldron and all of the group had been catching up on sleep, caught in the throes of jetlag. Trays of food had been provided twenty minutes before and the Slayer was now taking the chance to have a look around.

"I can't believe I'm here." Willow was sitting on her bed, the one nearest the door and on the right side of the fireplace, where a small, cool fire was crackling to provide a cosy atmosphere without the stuffy heat.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Buffy returned from the window, dropping down on her own bed. "Such a huge place in such a tiny building."

Willow nodded absently, withdrawing a handful of letters from her rucksack and spreading them on her bed. "I can't believe I'm going to meet my parents soon..." She fingered the envelopes, then yelped in sudden panic. "And I must look a mess after travelling all this way!"

She was already on her way to the large, round, gold-leaf framed mirror on the beige wall, brush in hand, when Buffy started to disagree with her. "I think you look fine, Will." The red head didn't listen, tugging her brush hastily through her silky hair.

"Do you have anything that would make my hair behave itself?" She called over her shoulder to the Slayer.

"I think you're past help, dearie." The mirror murmured sleepily.

Willow squeaked in surprise. "You spoke to me!"

"I don't see anyone else reflected in me." The mirror replied, apparently waking up and not too happy about it. It paused when Buffy hurried over to peer at it as well. "All right, come and stare at me. That's all anyone does."

"Well, I was going to talk to you." Willow looked offended. "How come you can talk?"

"You really want to know?" The voice brightened considerably. "Ooh! Normally no one ever does anything but stare into me or ignore me." There was a pause. "I think I've got a charm on me or something."

"So you're alive?"

There was a dusty chuckle at the Slayer's words. "I'm a mirror, dear. Of course I'm not alive."

"Have you been here long?"

"Long enough." The mirror said absently. The dust around the edge of the frame suggested it had been a long time. "What about you? Its obvious that you've never been in the Leaky Cauldron before."

"I've been living on a Hellmouth in America." Willow replied, still trying to figure out why she was actually talking to the elaborately-framed mirror. "I didn't know about The Leaky Cauldron until I found out I was a proper witch a few months ago."

The mirror seemed to regard her for a moment. "You're a late starter, aren't you?" It remarked. "Mind you, I have heard people talking about Hellmouths before...nasty places they are. Had a cousin who was broken to be made into a stake there."

"Uh...that might have been my fault." Buffy said awkwardly. "Sorry, but I needed to kill a couple of vampires and I didn't have anything else..."

There was another hoarse chuckle. "Don't worry dear," The mirror said reassuringly. "That's considered a promotion in my family." There was a pause. "That would make you a Slayer, wouldn't it?"

"Even mirrors know who I am?" The Slayer looked like she didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed.

"You'll find you are very famous, Miss Summers." Dumbledore's voice spoke from behind them and both girls spun to see Dumbledore calmly pulling himself out of the fireplace and dusting his robes down. "Good afternoon, Willow."

"Did...did you just come through the fire?" The red head asked uncertainly.

"That I did." The Professor's pale blue eyes twinkled merrily. "I had to resort to floo powder, so I wouldn't attract too much attention downstairs." He looked around. "I'm assuming that your companions are in the neighbouring rooms."

"Yeah." Buffy returned to her bed, sitting down and quickly pulling her black boots off to replace them with another pair. "Giles and Oz are next door and Xander and Anya are next door to them."

"Fine." The mirror sighed melodramatically. "Forget all about me..."

"I had to put my shoes on." Buffy called over apologetically. Fastening the boots, she returned and smiled at the mirror. "Better?" She hastily brushed her hair, pulling it back and pinning the loose curls back with clasps. "Will I do?"

"For a Slayer, you could do with putting a little weight, dear." The mirror replied, tutting in a strangely maternal fashion. "It won't do, being so skinny."

"You'd get on well with my mom." Buffy pulled a face, glancing at the chuckling reflection of Dumbledore who was standing behind her. Willow was pulling her shoes on, sitting on the end of her bed. "Professor, d'you think they'd let me take this mirror home with me?"

"I beg your pardon?" The mirror squawked.

Buffy turned her full attention back to it. "Well, you seem kinda neat and it seems kinda boring here." She bent closer to it. "If you promise to compliment me at least once every morning, I could take you home with me, if you like."

The mirror laughed a little more loudly this time. "Blimey!" It said, still laughing softly. "I must have made a good impression, then! And old Tom always says that I'm too talkative." There was a wistful sigh. "It would be marvellous to get out of this room for once, as well."

"I'm sure Tom wouldn't object, Buffy." Dumbledore added with a small smile. "After all, you merely need to remind him that you could tear his pub down with one hand and that would be enough to convince him."

The Slayer grinned broadly, looking towards the door as it opened. "Hey, Xander! Look at this cool mirror! It can talk!"

"Ours can talk as well." Anya grumbled bitterly. Her boyfriend's face coloured a deep shade of magenta. "It was very off-putting when we were having sex. It was cheering and telling us we should have provided popcorn."

"A mirror handing out sex tips...there's something you don't hear every day." Willow stood up, smoothing her crimson blouse down over her black trousers.

"I covered it in a sheet and it called me a prude." Xander shook his head. "Some of the things I've seen here are just too wiggy."

"Wiggy?" The mirror inquired from the wall.

"It mean weird." Buffy explained, reaching up to pat the frame. "Don't worry. He's a muggle, so he uses weird words."

"Buffy, you're having a conversation with furniture." Giles remarked dryly, entering the room with Oz. "Should we start worrying about you?" He nodded a greeting to Dumbledore. "Nice to see you Professor."

"Giles, I'm adopting the mirror. He...she...er...what are you?"

The mirror paused, silent for several seconds and if it could have, it would have frowned in thought. "Call me Bob." It said.

"So you're male?"

"Nope. I just like the name." She could visualise a grin.

"Okay." She grinned back at it. "I name you Bob the Mirror." Her friends rolled their eyes but she ignored them, patting the frame again. "I'll see you later, okay, Bob? We're going to go to the stores."

"Have fun, dear."

***

"This is where we part company." Dumbledore paused at the end of another corridor. "Willow, you will be coming with me...unless you want to bring someone with you, everyone else will be going to Diagon Alley."

"I think it would be better to meet them on my own." The red head replied after a moment's thought, accepting a quick hug from the Slayer and brief kiss from her boyfriend. "I'll see you guys later, I guess."

"And we'll want to know everything!" Buffy called over her shoulder as she was steered away by Giles.

Willow looked nervously up at Dumbledore. "Are they already here?" She asked.

"They are." Dumbledore gave her a warming smile. She felt some of her nerves dissolve, but her hands were shaking frantically. "Don't be so afraid, my dear." He said, patting her on the shoulder as they walked further down the corridor. "They're as nervous as you."

"Yeah, but there's more of them to be nervous together." She muttered, rubbing her sweating palms together.

"I'm sure you will all get on just fine, Willow."

"Doesn't stop me feeling like I'm going to throw up, though." The red head gave him a faint, watery grin. "Sorry." She added. "I've never met people who I've been writing to before...unless you count the time he turned out to be a homicidal demon in a computer."

Dumbledore crooked a bushy brow in her direction. "I would say that is a perfectly legitimate excuse to be slightly nervous." He remarked with a chuckle, pausing as they approached a door without a number on it. "Ah, here we are. Are you ready?"

She rubbed her palms on her trousers and nodded. "As I'll ever be."


Chapter 10: The Weasleys

Two wide, worn, red velvet couches lined opposite walls of the private parlour, broad windows with off-white lace curtains and a solid oak table decorated with a gold candelabra and twin vases of rather dusty-looking dried roses lining the third wall.

The fourth wall only contained the door that lead into the hall and clean rectangles on the musty yellow wallpaper, where portraits of Wizards had been hastily removed, to allow the family some additional privacy.

Molly and Arthur were sitting side-by-side, holding one another's hands. Both of them were pale, exchanging nervous glances from time to time. Percy and Bill were sitting on the same couch, each of them glancing at their watches every few seconds.

On the opposite couch, the other five Weasley children sat together in silence, which was a small miracle, but their parents were too nervous themselves to notice. Ginny especially looked pale and fraught, toying with the end of her braid.

The doorknob squeaked and every pair of eyes snapped to the round, gold knob.

It seemed to turn with agonising slowness until the snib clicked and the door started to open inwards, squeaking even more loudly than the knob. Molly got to her feet quickly, her heart thundering against her ribs, her husband swift to join her.

Professor Dumbledore entered first, wearing his usual colourful array of expensive and beautifully-stitched robes, smiling broadly around at them, then stepped aside to let his young companion enter.

Head down, the youngest Weasley stepped into the room, timidly looking around from beneath swathes of loose deep red hair that obscured her eyes. "Uh...hi..." She raised her face shyly, a nervous smile on her lips. "I-I guess you're my family, then."

"Oh my...Willow..." Molly started forward, holding out both of her hands.

Before Willow could protest, warm soft arms had caught her in a hug, something she had rarely received from her adoptive mother and she felt tears springing to her eyes as she returned the embrace. Pulling back, Molly lifted Willow's face in her hands, then hugged her again.

"Our little one...its so good to see you again..."

"Its good to finally meet you...mom," Willow's smile was still shaky, but brighter than it had been before.

Arthur hurried forward to join his wife, catching one of Willow's hands and shaking it heartily, unable to speak. A choked laugh escaped him and he drew her into a hug as well, embracing her tightly.

"You poor child...cursed with my good looks..." he managed to mumble with a smile against her silky red hair. Willow laughed softly, tears streaming down her face as both of her parents hugged her as if she was their most precious possession.

The rest of the Weasleys had all got to their feet awkwardly, uncertain what to do as their parents embraced the missing one of their number. Bill was the one who finally took the initiative and moved forward.

"Hi, Willow?" Her face still resting against their father's chest, she looked at the striking, long-haired man who was clad in leather - or was it dragon-hide? "I'm Bill," He held out a hand, shaking hers. "I'm your biggest brother."

"Hey Bill," Her parents release her to meet her siblings, embracing one another and exchanging smiles. "I guess you all kinda know who I am, seeing as you called me by my name and everything and, oh boy, real nervous...nervous...leads to babbling..."

"You babble when you're nervous, too?" Ginny suddenly brightened at that. She stepped forward, then both she and Willow froze, staring at one another and - more particularly, at what they were wearing.

"Oh my God..." Willow managed to utter in astonishment.

The youngest Weasley twins had accidentally picked practically identical clothes for their first meeting with each other – red blouses with low-cut collars and figure-hugging black trousers, as well as black boots.

At around the same height and build, the only differences in the pair were visible in their hair and faces. Willow had her father's strong features, while Ginny looked more like Molly, Ginny's hair a wild mass of curls, while Willow's was silky and straight.

"Well, you are twins," Professor Dumbledore noted with a small smile.

"We are...aren't we?" Willow turned her attention to Ginny's face, examining her as closely as Ginny was examining Willow. "We don't look alike."

Ginny grinned. "You look like dad and I look like mum, that's why," She looked down at her hand, wondering if she should offer it to her twin, but - instead - took two more steps across the room and hugged her. "Its great to have you back, Willow."

"Great to be back," Willow murmured tearfully. With one arm looped around one another, the twins turned to their brothers and Willow took in each face, trying to place it from what she had read in the books.

A tall, gangly youth with a wild mop of red hair and a mass of freckles approached them. "All right, Willow?" He offered a hand, which she shook. “Nice to finally get to see who I was writing to.”

"You're Ron, aren't you?"

"S'right," He grinned broadly. Stepping forward, he enveloped Willow in one of the most comfortable hugs she had ever had. He smelled warm and familiar, so very like Xander. “Bet its kinda weird to put a face to the hand-writing, eh?” Willow nodded, her arms around his waist. “And yep, Ron, the second most famous Weasley after Ginny...mind you, if I'd gone and married Harry, I would have been most famous."

"I don't think Harry would have liked that as much as you would, Ron," Ginny laughed. Ron pulled a face at her and mussed her hair. "Hey! Gerroff!"

"Out the way, Ronniekins!" Two identical men in their early twenties hauled Ron back, each offering a hand simultaneously to Willow. "Nice to have another complete set of twins in the family, Will. You don't mind if we call you Will? Good!"

"Uh..."

"I'm Fred," One shook her hand, then handed it to his brother. "That's George."

"George, shove off. I'm Fred," the one shaking her hand said.

"For goodness sake," Percy sighed, shaking his head. "The one on the left is George and the one on the right is Fred."

"Bzzt! Wrong!" both men chimed in unison, drawing a grin from Willow. Something about the pair reminded her a lot of Xander, but in different way compared to Ron.

Ron seemed to provide the comfortable familiarity. He was friendly, he had the goofy grin perfect, he had eyes that said he was a nice guy. It felt like she had known him for ever and beyond, but with Fred and George, she was getting the strange urge that if she was ever down, they would be the ones to cheer her up.

The twins were grinning at her and she could already see a difference between them.

One had a slightly wonky tip of his nose, like it had been broken and fixed very well, but just a little squint.

"Okay, we'll behave," the one on the right said. He was the one with the normal, wonk-free nose. "I'm George."

The one on the left, with the wonky nose, nodded. "Which means that I'm Fred, normally."

"Contradiction in terms there," the final member of the group said, peering around both of his younger brothers. "All right there, Willow?" He grinned at her, his red hair a mass of singed frizz. Stretching out a hand, he shook hers. "I'm Charlie."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie," She eyed his head. His skin had several shiny marks on the cheeks and on his forearms too, but still, it was the black-tipped red hair that drew her attention. "Uh...what happened to your hair?"

"The Swedish Short Snout had hiccups."

"Huh?"

Ginny replied for her brother. "Charlie works with dragons. He's been looking after a baby Swedish Short Snout lately and apparently it ate too quickly."

"A baby dragon? How cute!" Willow exclaimed. "I'd love a dragon."

Ron sniggered. "You're gonna get on well with Hagrid."

"Is it true you're dating a werewolf?" Percy butted in quickly. "By the way, I'm Percy, your elder brother." Wearing an impeccable suit that reminded her painfully of Niles in 'Frasier' and horn-rimmed glasses, he had a pompous look on his face.

Willow eyed him, remembering the Harry Potter books. "I never would have guessed you were Percy," she said in a deadpan voice. The rest of the brothers muted sniggers. "And yes, I do date a werewolf."

"Seriously?"

"I'd say," She nodded. "We've been together for nearly three years."

"That's not quite what I meant..." Bill said with a lop-sided grin. "What's it like? I've never seen a werewolf. I mean, I've seen a werewolf, but I haven't seen one as a wolfy werewolf...how did you find out he was one?" They had somehow managed to sit down while they were talking, Willow sandwiched between Ginny and Ron, Bill and Percy flanking them.

"Find out?" The youngest Weasley frowned, trying to remember. "I went to see him one night, just after we started dating. It was just after there had been an attack and he was trying to chain himself up. He turned into the wolf, chased me and probably would have killed me and eaten me, if I hadn't shot him."

"You shot him and you're still actually together?" Ron looked impressed. "That's commitment."

"It was only a tranquilliser gun," She shrugged. "It knocked him out long enough to get him into the cage in the library that Giles had," A frown crossed her brow. "I never did work out why Giles had a cage in the library."

"Old Rupert always was a kinky sod," Arthur said with a small smile. "Did he bring you over?"

"I think he said he was taking my friends into Diagon Alley," Willow nodded.

George cocked his head. "They're all muggles, aren't they?"

"One was a witch, about a thousand years ago," That drew some puzzled looks from her family. "But yeah, I guess you could sorta call them muggles. I mean, Oz is a werewolf, Buffy's a slayer and Anya's an ex-demon but Xander's...well, he's Xander. All muggly and stuff."

"What's the Slayer like?" Percy demanded eagerly.

"Well, she doesn't like being called the Slayer," Willow smiled faintly. "You call her Slayer and she'll probably to throw you across the room," Percy flinched, sinking back on his seat. "Call her by her name and she'll be fine. She's great, though. My best friend."

"Is she built like a rugby player? I mean, if she's fighting demons and everything without magic, she'll have to be pretty big..." Ron put in, one of his long arms looped around Willow’s shoulders. Normally no one would have been so tactile with her, but the youngest Weasley couldn’t help feeling utterly at ease in her elder brother’s embrace and looked up at him.

It took a moment for what he had said to sink in and Willow blinked, then doubled over laughing at the thought of a King-Size, Rugby-player version of Buffy wearing the familiar, girly normal-size Buffy wardrobe. "Oh God... gone to a scary visual place here..."

"What?" Ron looked bemused.

"I can't explain now, Ron," Giggling uncontrollably, Willow shook her head, one hand patting his knee. "Oh God..." Even Professor Dumbledore was having trouble keeping a grin from his face. "Buffy... rugby-playing...I'll have to tell her that..."

"But she is big?"

"You'll just have to wait until you meet her...you are staying for a while, right?" Willow looked around anxiously, her laughter fading as quickly as it had come. "Everyone wants to meet you guys, cos they've heard all about you from the letters and everything."

Molly nodded with a broad smile. "Of course! We'd be delighted to stay as long as you are."

"Actually..." Professor Dumbledore murmured, moving from his position at the door for the first time since he had entered the room. "That was a subject I was wondering if I could bring up with you all."

"Oh?" Willow managed to make the feeble squeak.

"Molly, you recall what we discussed several weeks ago?"

Apparently she did, looking from the Professor to her youngest daughter and biting on her lower lip nervously. "Do you think...that is to say..."

"Why don't you ask her, Molly?" Dumbledore suggested gently.

The plump witch nodded nervously. "Um...Willow, we were...that is...is there any chance that you might like to come and spend the rest of the summer with us, at The Burrow?" Willow gaped at her. "I mean, I know you probably have other things to do and everyone will probably be coming and going a lot, but..."

"I would love to!"

"Really?" Willow nodded eagerly and Molly beamed. "That's wonderful! And we can help you with your magic and everything, if you're going to..." She looked up at Dumbledore, who smiled slightly and moved a little closer to the group.

"Willow, there has been some dicussion among the staff body at Hogwarts," he said. "and we were wondering if you would like to attend the school, in some capacity to learn to use your abilities properly. After all, you have a lot of power and we would like to give you a little help in finding out how to use it."

The youngest Weasley stared at him in confusion. "I-I don't understand. I thought I was too old to attend the school."

"You're very advanced already, you know, so I'm sure we could arrange private tuition in specialist areas," He smiled reassuringly. "You could attend classes you were interested in and it would be one of the best ways for you to learn about our world, even if you only attend for a single school year."

"Me? Go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" A dazzling grin crossed the young witch's face. "That would be amazing!"

"I hoped you would say that," Dumbledore smiled. "If you stay with Molly and Arthur for the summer, at least we will know where to contact you."

A wrinkle marred Willow's brow momentarily. "But what about my friends, Professor? I mean, if I come to the school, would Oz be able to come with me, if he wants to? Is there a cage that I could put him in at the school? I don't want to leave him behind."

"I'm sure we could arrange something, Miss Weasley."

"Only someone from our family would ask for a cage for their love- interest," Charlie remarked with a wry grin.

Willow smiled again at the use of her name, grinning at Charlie's comment then paused, a curious look crossing her face. "Will I have to be sorted?" she asked, a note of excitement in her voice.

"If you intend to attend regular classes, it would probably be necessary, so yes," Blue eyes twinkled brightly. "Or if you just wanted to be sorted for the sake of it, I am sure we could fit you into the register."

Ginny grinned. "You just want to see what the hat says to you, don't you?"

"I am kinda curious," Willow returned the grin weakly. "Do you think I'd be a Gryffindor like the rest of you? I mean, has there ever been anyone who was in this family, who wasn’t in Gryffindor?"

Fred and George immediately started to speak. "We thought we'd have some peace from the family when we got there, but no," George sighed dramatically and his brother took up the speech. "We got stuck with Perfect Percy."

"I resent that!"

"That was the point, Perce," Fred grinned.

"But what if I end up in Slytherin? I mean, I’ve done some spells that have gone a teeny bit...wrong...and ended up with things not of the good..."

Ginny gave her twin a reassuring hug. "Then you'll show them exactly what a muggle-raised Weasley can do," she lowered her voice and added in a wicked whisper. "And if they really annoy you, you could always let your boyfriend loose in the common room on a full-moon."

Willow couldn't help smiling at that thought. "Its very tempting, you know," she said, her eyes dancing with mischief, then looked across the room at her parents questioningly. "If I come and stay with you, when will it be?"

Arthur gave her a broad smile. "As soon as you would like to, Willow. It might be a bit of a squeeze, but I'm sure we'll be able to fit you in...after all, none of this lot are meant to live with us anymore, seeing as they‘re all grown up and everything."

"Yeah, but we've never had a new baby sister to annoy," George grinned in a way that made Willow very uneasy. "We have nineteen years of annoying to catch up on, haven't we?"

"You don't want to annoy me too much," Willow cautioned, her eyes dancing.

"Why?"

She smirked. "I have something you don't have."

"Well, we all knew about THAT," Fred put in with a dirty grin, receiving a magic clip around the ear from his mother's wand. "Mum!"

"Don't be crude, Fred," Molly scolded.

"Well, he is right about that, mom," Willow grinned. "But I still having something better than what he's got..."

"Hey!" He looked offended, then frowned. "Um...so what do you have that George and me don't, then?"

"A Slayer who would happily beat you up, if I asked her to," Willow gave her big brother a thoroughly innocent smile. Ginny gave a shout of laughter and Fred and George shut up very quickly. "You'll just have to make sure I don't get upset, won't you and George?"

He and his twin nodded emphatically.

"You know," Ginny remarked conspiratorially. "I think you and I are going to get on very well."

 

 

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