Willow Tree Burning

Willow shifted her pack and glanced down at the map in her hands, turning it the right way around. She frowned a bit, tracing the faint line of the trail from the lodge to the hidden lake and glanced to the trail marker on her left. 2.6 km to go. I wonder how long that will take. She glanced at her watch- it was only 2:30, plenty of time. She set off at a brisk walk, soaking in the afternoon sun.

You need a break, he'd said. You've been working so hard, and we're all so proud of you. She'd snorted then, but let him continue. The coven and I think it would be best for you to take a week or so and center yourself. There's a retreat they're fond of in the Scottish Highlands. Would you be interested?

Willow had nodded, Sure Giles, I'd be happy to go away until they turn Madeline back into herself again. I'm sure she's not enjoying her sojourn as a mop particularly much. Willow grimaced at the memory. Giles had protested, saying that wasn't the reason at all, but she knew. She saw their faces as she lost control at the end of the lesson, her eyes filling with ebony as her hand came up of its own volition, and wordlessly, Madeline had gone from a mildly annoying, ever present voice of caution to a slightly frazzled floor mop. Horrified, she'd ran almost the entire way back to Giles's bungalow before he caught up to her in the car, all soft words and encouragements. Ha, he probably thought I'd turn him into a dustbin. She wasn't sure which mortified her more, the mop incident or that she left before even considering how to turn Madeline back. She felt sure Giles was going to make good on the unstated threat toward her behavior. He denied wishing her harm, but she knew the Ripper part of him wanted to take her to task, to hell with reforming her. Never the less, here she was, walking a wooded trail in mid-afternoon, trying to find a hidden lake renowned for its beauty.

She knew she'd tried. But it was never enough; she'd never be quite the same again. Willow could feel the magic of the place swirling around her, dancing in the rare Scottish sunlight. It lifted the ends of her flame colored hair, swirling the tips and tickling her nose. It almost seemed to be comforting her, but she wanted none of it. She knew the blackness was still there, the anger, the hurt, the hate. And it terrified her.

She absently noted the scrubby trees and graying boulders along the path, worn smooth by many feet. Tara would have liked it here, the thought came unbidden. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and brushed the tears from the corner of her eye. Lifting her face to the sky, she closed her eyes. She walked as surely as if she could see the path, floating along the lines of magic tugging her to and fro. A change in the flow alerted her to the path's end, and opening her eyes, she gasped.

The lake was indeed beautiful. Crystal clear and glistening in the sunshine; the lake was a jewel of nature, hidden from men's eyes. I knew it; the moment I wanted to be miserable and get it over with, the stupid weather has to be nice. Why can't it rain like it always does, she harrumphed.

Despite the sunshine, the wind was brisk, and Willow was glad for the Anorak over her sweater. She scuffed her boots in the pile of pebbles lining the shore and turned to find somewhere to sit. At first the calm and silence was soothing. No one else was around, and she finally had some time to herself. No Giles, no coven, no wary concerned watchdogs guarding her thoughts. Without warning, the stillness in her mind was shattered and the world seemed to crumble in on itself. The last year's activities crashed into her, battering around with heightened emotions and nauseating memories. Her hands were clenched together; the nails dug into her palms leaving burning half moons that she didn't even feel. Tara. Unbidden, tears fell down her cheeks. A sob hitched in her chest and she screamed to the sky, a wordless explosion of grief. Broken, she collapsed on the ground.

A concerned Dumbledore turned to his deputy headmistress, the twinkle in his eyes extinguished. "It is beginning, isn't it Minerva."

Wordlessly, she nodded, swirling her tea. After he had risen two years ago, Voldemort had lain quiet, planning, they supposed. Gathering resources, his strength grew, and finally it began. Last night, the Death Eaters struck a family of Muggles in Kensington, the Dark Mark rising over their home, a sickly shade of green. And next week the children would come back to Hogwarts to begin another year. All their planning for naught- they knew of no sure way to beat him. Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard, everyone knew, but he was only human. And his all too human countenance was shrouded in pain.

"What do we do, Albus?" Minerva worried at the tea leaves littering her cup. He gazed out the window into the gathering evening, the sun on the horizon.

"I don't know. Perhaps pray?" He laughed. "Ask and ye shall receive? So whom do we ask? What magic is there to help us now, Minerva?" He shook his head, and offered up his hands in supplication.

Minerva McGonagall sat up straighter as the room became deathly quiet. The air seemed to be listening and waiting and Dumbledore's eyes widened in response. He raised his hands and said quietly, "We need help. Whatever that may be." He bowed his head and lowered his hands to the desktop. The air crackled in watchfulness and almost as if heaving a breath of decision, the noises from the outside intruded again.

They remained seated in silence, a few minutes more. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled just a little bit as he offered McGonagall a candy dish. "Lemon drop?"

He creased his brow, and murmured, "I really don't know, my dear. I guess we shall have to wait and see."

With that, they both turned to watch the sunset over the lake, rippling gently in the fading light.

Willow roused herself reluctantly. The light was fading, and she was exhausted. Emotionally shattered, she pulled the frayed edges of her thoughts together. She would need to move quickly to get back to the lodge before dark. Part of her wished to stay just where she was and dissapear into the gathering gloom. It was no more than she deserved. She shook her head, blinking back tears. Standing carefully, and stretching aching muscles, she shouldered her pack and started back towards the path around the lake.

Only it wasn't there. The dancing gold shimmer from the lake wasn't completely gone in the sunset, but she couldn't see the path. Or any path for that matter. Startled, she closed her eyes to feel her way back, only to have them spring open instantly. It feels wrong, she waved her hand in front of her, but the currents were off. Where am I! She turned to gaze across the lake and gasped.

That castle is not supposed to be there. Involuntarily, she started to shake. Picking her way across the boulders, she headed towards the castle, looming high over the lake, warm lights glowing in the window. I suppose you should never go to the dark and looming castle looking for help, but I'll just have to assume I'm not stuck in a ScoobyDoo mystery. The light faded with each step, and by the time she reached the opposite shore, it was nearly dark. Think, Rosenberg, what now. There was a small hut at the base of the slope leading up to the ramparts, and working on the hypothesis that henchmen were usually slightly less frightening than whatever lurked in castles, she changed her path, cutting across the grass.

Summoning her courage, she raised her hand to knock on the door. After only a moment's hesitation, wherein she wondered about the likelihood of vampires living in the cottage rather than in the castle to better eat unsuspecting travelers, she rapped lightly. She could hear someone moving around inside, and the whine of a canine of some sort. Stepping back, she readied her hand by her side, energy crackling at her fingertips, Better safe than sorry. I can always apologize later if I turn him into a coat rack or something. Rolling her eyes, she steadied herself.

The door opened to reveal a rather large man, and his rather large slobbering dog. A very large man in fact, currently fiddling with his beard with a befuddled expression on his face. "Who might you be then? I ain't seen you round here before?" The dog trotted out the door to sniff at Willow's shoes.

At least it isn't my crotch, she thought, weighing the options of open flight versus finding out what this… giant… could tell her.

"Um, no, I'm rather lost you see. I was looking for the path back from the lake and well… there's this castle that wasn't there before, you see. I would rather like it to go away actually, so I can go back home. Or not home, the lodge… or even Giles, because this is way weird. I mean, conjuring a castle out of thin air- pretty cool trick. I don't know how I got here or, where here is actually. Or why you are about 15 times bigger than me. Or why I don't just shut up now." With that, she snapped her mouth closed and eyed the giant cautiously. He didn't seem threatening, and the dog gave up on her shoes to drool on her backpack, presumably after her old sandwiches.

The giant broke into a huge grin. "Lost are you? Well, I can help. We'll just go up to the castle and sort this right out. Fang, come here and get outta the nice lady's bag."

Fang? That sounds familiar. Willow's pulse started to race a bit. Actually, a lot of things started to seem familiar. A giant, with a giant dog, called Fang at a castle, on the side of perfect lake, in the middle of nowhere Scotland.

"Willow. My name's Willow Rosenberg. And your name?" Her hands had relaxed, the magic flowing away, leaving nothing but a mild panic in it's wake.

"Oh, my name's Hagrid, and this here is Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. There's none finer! Ms. Rosenberg?" Hagrid bent over in concern as Willow slumped to the ground in a dead faint. Her last thought was, Well, at least I didn't magic myself into a bodice-ripping romance novel… Hagrid stooped and gently scooped the unconscious girl into his arms, whistling to Fang as he moved towards the castle.

Chapter 2

Willow was gently jostled awake from the most fascinating dream. Tara had knelt by her sleeping body, brushing her hair away from her face with feather light touches. It'll be alright Willow. You're needed. It will be alright. I promise you. Willow had grabbed at the phantom hands caressing her cheeks only come up empty handed. The gut wrenching loss snapped her awake, and she struggled slightly in the massive arms cradling her body.

"I'm awake now, you know. I'd appreciate you putting me down if you don't mind."

Hagrid stopped and slowly lowered Willow to her feet, eyeing her carefully. "Have a bit of a shock there did you? You sure you're alright to stand?"

Willow nodded carefully and managed not to sway too badly when he released her arms. "I just didn't expect to be here is all. I suppose you'll take me to see Dumbledore to straighten this all out, won't you? That seems to be what happens around here, someone's in distress and Dumbledore makes it all better." She paused, frowning slightly. "It is Dumbledore isn't it? I haven't got the name wrong?"

Hagrid continued to watch her cautiously. "Yer right, headmaster here is Dumbledore. Do you know him?"

Willow squeaked out a semblance of a laugh, "Uh, yeah. I guess I do, though he probably doesn't know me." This is awkward. I hope there aren't too many people around; I have no idea what to do. So what do I say- "Hi I seem to have lost my mind! I know you're all in my head, but would you mind pretending to be real so I don't snap and turn everyone into office furniture." Oh God… Hagrid mounted the entrance steps ahead, and she drew a deep breath and straightened her back. Her pack still hung limply from Hagrid's massive hand, Fang sniffing around for any wayward crumbs that decided to liberate themselves from the confines of the bag. He sighed woefully as the floor remained crumb free.

Lost in thought, Willow smacked soundly into Hagrid's back as he halted at the closed oaken doors. He turned before opening them to assess the likelihood of another fainting spell. Satisfied, he shoved the doors open with a bang.

"Dumb'dore! Sorry I'm late, found a friend of yours wandering the grounds! Got room at dinner?" he said with a wink, completely oblivious to the reactions at the head table. Willow, on the other hand, couldn't look away. There were 5 people at the head table. The tall, elderly gentleman in royal blue robes with a long flowing beard must be Dumbledore, a wiry, elegant woman with a pointed hat and emerald robes would probably be McGonagall, and a thin, pale, dark haired wizard with deep black robes and a disinterested sneer she guessed to be Snape. Rounding out the group were a graying, frazzled, well-built wizard and a plump, friendly looking witch with mud on her elbows.

Willow glanced first to Dumbledore. He was staring at her intently, but without overt hostility. He actually seemed to be able to see right through her tightly wrapped self control, and it made her shiver. McGonagall sent her one piercing stare and turned to Dumbledore, an open question on her face. The grizzled wizard measured her up like a wild thing with its prey; he reminded her of Oz. Oz…The round woman merely regarded her with mild interest. It was Snape that held her attention. His first reaction was one of mild distain. A pause less than a breath long then his body jerked slightly and his head whipped around with a glare. He searched her face intently, then roved his eyes down her body, frowning her at her Muggle clothing. Willow met his eyes defiantly, and felt scalded at their intensity. What does he see? I haven't done anything!

Her attention was diverted as she reached the steps leading up to the teacher's dais. Her footsteps had echoed louder than she would have liked in the empty hall, and she wondered what it would look like filled with children. She hoped she'd never find out.

"Erm, everyone, this is Miss Rosenberg. Miss Rosenberg, this is Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Lupin, and Sprout. All of the rest of the teachers are away until the start of term, next week." Two extra place settings appeared at end of the table in response to Dumbledore's wave of his wand.

"Well, my dear. It's wonderful to see you. Won't you please join us for a bite to eat? It's roast night, and I do love a good roast." Willow followed Hagrid's lead around the table, taking the seat next to Professor Sprout. She smiled a bit wanly as the woman chirped a greeting and hoped she said the appropriate pleasantries. This is some complicated delusion I've dreamed up. They look so real! And smell real, I think she was working in mint- and is that motherwort?

Conversation, however stilted, picked up again. Hagrid happily nattered on about something or other he found in the Forbidden Forest that would make a wonderful new addition to his classes and Professor Sprout responded amiably about its possible foodstuffs. Willow nodded at the appropriate intervals and tried not to look at the other end of the table. Snape was still trying to roast her with his eyes and Lupin, now that she knew the name she remembered he was in fact a werewolf like Oz, looked like he was trying to sniff her out over the smell of dinner. It was most disconcerting. Dumbledore seemed perfectly happy to continue on as if random, Muggle attired strangers were a usual occurence and McGonagall followed his lead.

Thankfully, dinner petered to a halt, with Hagrid excusing himself to feed his critters and Snape mumbling something about checking a potion. McGonagall and Lupin exchanged glances, wherein Lupin politely asked if Sprout would be interested in bringing a nightcap to Poppy with him. Fairly beaming, she took his arm away from the table and left the hall, leaving Willow to face the headmaster with only McGonagall for company.

He turned serious blue eyes her way and leaned forward. "And now my dear, I believe we need to have a little discussion. Perhaps you'd join Minerva and me in my chambers for a spot of tea?" The tone of command left no room for argument, and Willow trotted after the two teachers, bag in hand as they left the Great Hall.

The magic that swirled around her as she walked the corridors was unlike anything she'd felt before. It tugged on her senses and begged to be used. It was taking all of her worn self-control to smash it back where it belonged. I don't have time to deal with this now… Just let me get through this and I promise… I promise? Her mind flitted back to the brief dream from earlier, Tara promised me I'd be fine. She took a deep breath, centering herself and concentrated on the figures moving away in front of her. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see the paintings looking on with interest, whispering to each other, none willing to speak loudly. The longer they wound through the castle, the more confused and exhausted Willow became until they suddenly halted in front of a carved arch watched over by an ornate bronze griffon.

"Creeping Clusters," Dumbledore said loudly and the griffon revolved slowly revealing an upwardly spiraling staircase. At the top, he gestured for the two women to take their seats, and arranged himself behind his desk; summoning a teapot and three delicate cups from thin air. The entire journey had been completed in silence.

Willow was feeling more and more miserable by the second. She felt dizzy and tired, and hadn't managed more than three bites at dinner despite not eating anything all day. McGonagall was giving her a look to peel paint and Dumbledore closed his eyes, as if to ward off the day.

"Miss Rosenberg. Perhaps you had better tell us who you are and how you got here. You are a witch, are you not?"

"Erm, well. My name is Willow Rosenberg, and I am a witch." Inwardly, she cringed- Am I? What have I become? Was that was Giles was attempting to do, turn me into a proper witch? "I was on a… retreat… in the Scottish highlands. I'd been training with a coven in Devon with my friend Giles, he's a Watcher. I had an… accident… and they suggested I take a few days off. I walked to this lake, and… fell asleep. When I woke up, my path was gone and your castle was on the other side of the lake…" She felt suddenly foolish. "Who'd have thought when I woke up this morning I'd be in a book. In a book and trying to explain how I got here! This is a new weird even for me. Way off the 'vampires are real and they ate one of my best friends' or 'the Mayor is a giant snake' or 'my boyfriend's a werewolf' weirdness scale. I don't see why I don't just wake up!" The last bit was directed at her hands. The others were staring at her like she'd grown another head.

"I'm sorry- did you say you were in a book?" McGonagall looked perplexed. Of all the things this young lady could have said to explain her existence, falling asleep and waking up in book was not one of them. "I assure you, we are quite real."

Willow's laugh sounded strained even to her own ears. "But you are in a book, and now I must be too. I read all about you, with Tara. We laughed about the wands and broomsticks and house elves. You're a fairytale! Aren't you…?" At that she seemed unsure.

Creasing his brow, Dumbledore reached across the desk and took Willow's trembling hand in his own. "Sometimes in this world, there are things we can't explain. I often wondered about the nature of creativity. You say, we were written about? Well, perhaps we could think of imagination and creativity as being outlets to see into other possibilities. You imagine that somewhere, somehow, there's a world with say… no mice. In that instance, you may have in fact somehow touched that world with no mice, seen it's existence with whatever piece of your unconscious that works the ether to come up with new images. Perhaps someone from your reality briefly saw into our world and wrote it down for everyone to read. How are you to know that you aren't being written about in some other reality?" Willow looked extremely uncomfortable. "That said- think of this as the world without mice. It's just a theory mind you, I have no idea whether this is provable or not."

Willow nodded slowly and whispered, "There's a world with no shrimp. She was allergic; I said we'd go one day…"

His eyebrow arched, "Yes well, perhaps there is. Do you mean, you've heard of other realities?"

Now her laugh was clear. "Oh, that is so a yes. More trouble than they're worth really, especially on a hellmouth. Some beasties want in, some beasties want out, and sometimes shit just happens."

"Ah well, not exactly me. I accidentally pulled my doppelganger from an alternate universe once." The silence in the room was deafening.

McGonagall choked on her tea, and Dumbledore leaned forward. "Well, what happened in that case?" Willow frowned.

"Uh… I was trying to help a friend of mine… well she wasn't then, but I guess she is… now," don't think about it, don't think about it, "find her power center that was smashed in the alternate dimension and I pulled the version of me back instead. It didn't go well, see… My double was kinda a vampire, and the other me was not happy about being here at all. In her world… what was it… they 'rode people like ponies' or something… vampires were the top of the food chain, and she wanted to go home. There was leather and lots of angst… I hated to kill her, even though that's what we do, so we sent her home. Anya never did get her power center back."

Dumbledore blinked. "What an interesting… story. But it doesn't explain why you're here. Did you cast anything today that would have sent you here?" He didn't miss the blanche that spread across Willow's flushed cheeks.

"No! I mean, no. I didn't cast… anything today." She narrowed her eyes. "Did you? Did anyone show up asking if there was anything you wished for? Cause if Anya did this I am so going to actually kill her this time. Someone should put D'Hoffryn out of business, that man is a menace. If some stupid wish sucked me into this world, there's going to be hell to pay and no resurrected slayer is going to stop me now." As her speech progressed, Willow's body language became more and more intense. Her posture straightened, her hands curled as if to hold something, and her eyes flashed.

Both McGonagall and Dumbledore sat back, raising their hands in peace. "My dear, I think you are a bit overwrought. I assure you no one here cast any wishes. I am not actually familiar with the D'Hoffryn you mention. Didn't you say that Anya was a friend of yours? Why would you wish to kill her? And what is a slayer? Your world seems rather different than ours."

Smiling a bit, he poured her more tea. McGonagall did not relax and cautiously watched Willow's hands. "Child, where is your wand?" Willow's attention snapped towards the other woman.

"I don't use a wand." She sighed. "If there is really no reason for me to be here, perhaps we should work on a way to get me home." Willow shook her head, her hair glinting like flame in the candlelight. "I'm sorry. I'm very tired. It has been… exhausting for me recently. I would be happy to answer any questions you have in the morning, once I can think more clearly. Would you mind terribly putting me up for the night? It doesn't appear that I have anywhere else to go."

Suddenly, the angry young women before them dissolved into a tired child, desperately in need of sleep. She hugged her knees to her chest, and dropped her head. Minerva reached out to touch her shoulder, starting as Willow flinched away from her touch. Her heart melted as Willow looked at her with such sad exhaustion, and she drew her up from the chair.

"Albus, I'll be right back. I'll install Miss Rosenberg in the guest quarters off this hall. This won't take but a moment." Fairly clucking, she led Willow away from the fireside, back down the stairwell and into the hallway.

One brief "Oriental Poppies" and they entered a plain but generous set of guest quarters. Barely awake, Willow noted a bathroom, small breakfast nook, and a lovely, deep four-poster bed. Shucking her shoes and anorak, she flopped onto the bed, barely hearing one last question.

Mumbling, Willow answered. "Sorcerer's Stone, Chamber of Secrets, Prisoner of Azkaban and the Goblet of Fire. That was the last one, years ago… Way too long, took forever to read… When is it now?" She was asleep before McGonagall could formulate a reply.

Albus was staring off into space by the time Minerva returned. She cleared her throat before sitting, and Albus turned to her with the faintest of glint in his eye.

"I've summoned Severus and Remus. They may have something to contribute to this conversation. Perhaps this is the answer to our little 'prayer' this afternoon, though I am fairly sure neither of us wished for anything. Seems awfully sensitive about wishing, our young friend. Perhaps wishing is different where she comes from as well." He picked up a sour worm from a bowl on his desk.

"I don't think that's your decision, Minerva. I'm sure you and Albus need all the help you can get." Snape sneered, lurking in the doorway next to Lupin. "Would you care to fill us in on the little dinnertime drama we just witnessed? Because, I for one, would love to know how she got here." Lupin nodded silently.

Dumbledore sighed and transfigured up two more chairs. "You may as well hear everything from the beginning, starting this afternoon…"

By the time he was finished speaking, the room had descended into utter silence. They sat quietly for a few minutes before Snape leaned forward in his seat. "You think she can help us with her brand of magic. That may be, but she's dangerous. And she's not telling you everything. Remus and I agree for once. She has quite a bit more power than she lets on."

"I know Severus… And I think she was sent here not just for us, but for her sake as well. Something has happened to her; she needs to heal. And perhaps we can help."

Snape snorted and Lupin waved his hand. "You said she read about us all? And the last book is related to the Goblet of Fire? That was two years ago, she has no idea what's going on now. What are we going to do with her? We can't very well say, 'Hey, there's a mad wizard on the loose and we'd love for you to tell us how to kill him!' I can't imagine that would go over well."

"No, Remus, it may not. But something tells me that sort of situation is something she's familiar with. Miss Rosenberg seems to have faced an array of situations with which we would not ordinarily come into contact, and it would behoove us to learn from her knowledge, whatever that may be." He steepled his hands. "I am not sure what to do with Miss Rosenberg. I believe her to be older than the students we generally house. Perhaps we can create a position of some sort here, something that would give her presence credibility- at least until we can send her home. Tomorrow, we'll ask her about herself; perhaps she'll be more communicative. In any case, I think this is no time to leave the child to her own devices. It is no longer a friendly world, and she is unfamiliar with our ways." He glanced around the room, surveying his friends and colleages. Minerva still looked shocked, Remus was cautious but hopeful, and Severus looked as if the poor girl was going to creep up behind him and whack him over the head with a bat.

Dumbledore smiled and summoned a crystal decanter. "Brandy anyone? I find I could do with a nightcap."

Faint morning light streamed in through the thick window casements setting the swirling dust motes alight. Willow rolled over, snuggled deep into the down comforter. It occurred to her, not for the first time in the last day, that life sometimes takes a turn for the bizarre. Yesterday morning, she was forcibly placed on a train and told to take herself to Scotland and 'center herself'. She apparently centered herself so well that she ended up in another dimension.

A dimension she previously believed to be fictional, but clearly wasn't. Things here weren't exactly like the books, she supposed. The books certainly didn't allow you to feel the cold seeping in from the ever pervasive stone, hear the creaks and rustles of settling buildings, smell the faint odor of mildew and old things, or see the way the daylight played along the hangings of her bed. But some things obviously were. Magic was used here. Witches and wizards saturated their lives with it, made every action easier with it, and couldn't survive without it.

Last night, she had been overwhelmingly concerned about returning back 'to where she belonged'. In the brightness of day, on the other hand, she wondered just how well she belonged there. She was cast out, however well intentioned, of the only place she knew by her friends. Friends too afraid to be near her. Entrusted into the care of the one person they believed would be able to control her. What they didn't know was that she hadn't been controlled. Giles could never have prevented her ascendancy- she had chosen to stop, for love- the same emotion that precipitated her unraveling to begin with.

Xander had thought that that his little crayon speech somehow wicked the 'badness' out of her, cured her. She smiled a twisted, self-deprecating smile at that thought. Oh no, it was still there, the dark and the light. It always would be. The idea that she was addicted to magic was utter crap; she only wished she'd seen it sooner. You can't be addicted to part of yourself, she thought, it's like being addicted to toenails, and about as productive. So she got on the plane with Giles, docile and helpful, and came to learn control, stuffing the burning shame as far inside as it would go, eager to get away from the looks of mis-directed empathy.

It was all very confusing, and she'd had no chance to deal with her emotions and actions before now. She supposed that Giles and the coven had kept her busy, distracted her, to prevent another breakdown when she finally grieved for Tara. Tara. Willow buried her head under the covers and balled her fists. What they didn't understand was she grieved every moment she was alive, and she was still here. And so was the magic. It didn't go away; it never went away. She could feel it always, swirling just below her skin. It held no sway over her now, the lessons with the coven had given her that, but it called to her always. It hummed in her very soul, singing to her, loving her, craving her. She felt stretched thin.

I wonder if they'll ever come for me. Perhaps I'll sleep all day long, well into the night, and they will have forgotten about me. Somehow, I don't think Dumbledore will ever forget about me.

Dumbledore. He wanted something, she was sure. She wished she'd paid more attention to the books when she and Tara had read them to each other. Unfortunately, they'd had other things on their mind, and now she was a little lost. Characters she remembered vaguely, and the general plot gists, but more than that, she drew a blank. Sighing, she poked her head out of the covers and surveyed her surroundings.

Nope, nothing familiar. I hope the books will come in handy with the teachers. I don't even know how long has passed since the last one. Or whether the characters- no, people- are still alive.

Swinging her feet out of the covers, she suddenly realized how hungry she was. And how interested in eating she was; she couldn't remember the last time she had been hungry. Thinking a bit more, she realized it wasn't just hunger, it was freedom she felt. No one knew her; no one knew what she had done, or what she was capable of. The shy, nerdy Willow was gone, but so was the desperate, clingy Willow, and the hell bent on destruction Willow. She had what she had always wanted: a blank slate. The loss of her lover still gaped like an open wound, but if she couldn't have Tara, at least she could start over where she was free. She could become whoever she wanted to be. Feeling infinitely better about her situation, she headed through the doorway across the room to search out the shower.

For a drafty, chilly castle, the bathrooms couldn't be beat. An enormous tub with several taps lay along one side of the bathroom. On the other, a multi headed shower and vanity with two sinks, and a discreetly hidden toilet. There were jars and bottles in every shade of the rainbow, sometimes several at once. A massive pile of incredibly fluffy towels were stacked three deep on a low table, with washcloths and loofas in a basket on the floor. Selecting a few bottles of the most delectable smells, and a handy loofa or two, she stepped into the shower, melting under the hot water.

Finally warm, and clean, she snagged a few towels and wrapped herself tightly, scrubbing her hair to dry it as much as possible. Exiting the luxurious bath, she gasped in surprise. Laid on the newly remade bed was a set of beautiful gray robes, elegantly trimmed in black piping accented by ivy leaves along the buttonholes. Underneath, her undergarments had been replicated, or cleaned- she didn't know which. Pinned to the top was a note: I thought these to be in your size. I hope you find them to your liking. M.McG.

Willow smiled and ran her hands over the deceptively smooth material, and slipped the robes on without a second thought. They were much warmer than her jeans and pullover, and she could hardly wear an anorak inside all day long. She'd have to remember to thank McGonagall for her wonderful choice of apparel- the robes fit like a glove. Willow had always worn clothes to suit her temperament, regardless of fashion or current tastes. She wondered now why she had never tried robes, other than the obvious Southern California weather constraints- she couldn't believe the way they enhanced her figure.

Humming to herself, she decided to go exploring for breakfast. Swinging the door open, she peered left then right down the halls, and realized she had no idea which way to go. She vaguely remembered the headmaster's rooms to the right, but she had no idea how to get back to the great hall. Frowning, she turned to a painting adorning the wall to her left.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you might tell me how to get to the great hall for breakfast. I seem to have lost my way." The lady in the portrait sniffed and waved her hand to the right, mumbling something under her breath about 'impertinent Americans'. Rolling her eyes, Willow swept off down the hallway, as regally as she could manage.

Time for the new me to start. And the new me is not going to be intimidated by some uppity long dead patriotic English floozy in a painting.

Willow wandered for a few minutes without seeing anything familiar. Huffing in frustration, she was about to ask another painting or suit of armor for help when a figure came barreling around the corner, black cloak flapping. Snape.

She stepped out of his path, and tried to blend into the gray shadows lining the halls. He nearly passed her without seeing her, but as he came abreast, he fairly jumped out of his skin. "Miss Rosenberg! Kindly tell me why you're lurking behind a distractingly ugly urn."

She stepped forward, smiling disarmingly. "Why, I was looking for breakfast, Professor Snape, and I thought that this lovely urn may conjure some up for me. What do you think?"

He humphed, and waved his hand dismissively. "I don't need your cheek this morning, young lady. As it so happens, I was sent to look for you. The headmaster requests our presence, so your attempt to wheedle breakfast out of hall décor will have to wait." Seeing her face fall, he relented. "And I believe he has breakfast waiting for you in his quarters. Will you please follow me?" After submitting her to an intense glare, as if he was trying to read her mind, and failed, he offered his arm in a gesture of gentility that surprised them both. He escorted her back to the large bronze griffon and up into the headmaster's office.

Seated in Dumbledore's office were McGonagall, Lupin and the headmaster himself. Upon seeing their entrance, he waved over two more chairs and removed the cover from a steaming tray of traditional English breakfast foods. Willow smiled gratefully as she filled her plate and sat back.

"I trust you slept well Miss Rosenberg. You've met Professors Lupin and Snape. They've been apprised of your situation and are most eager to talk with you. Once you've finished that bite, perhaps you'd like to tell us a little about yourself so we can find the best way to have you fit in at Hogwarts. You are older than the students we house, are you not?"

Willow swallowed and nodded. "First off, thank you for the lovely robes Professor McGonagall; they're wonderful! I don't know too much about how the British school system works, but I'll be a senior at University of California Sunnydale next year. I'm 20; I started school young. I'm from Sunnydale, a small town outside of Los Angeles and am studying Psychology pre-med in college."

Minerva leaned forward, a question in her eyes, "Do you mean to tell me you go to a Muggle University? Where did you do your training dear?"

Willow smiled. "We have no wizarding schools like you do here. I guess everyone's raised a Muggle, regardless of whether they practice magic or not. I actually stayed in Sunnydale as opposed to going to Oxford in order to be able to practice magic with my friends. I suppose it won't hurt to tell you that Sunnydale's real name is Boca del Inferno- it's a hellmouth." At their exchange of confused glances, she elaborated. "I think magic is used differently where I'm from. There's almost no formal training, unless you come from a family of witches, and even then, things can go poorly," she said, thinking of Tara's family's attitude toward the witches in their midst. "I only got into practicing magic because of the friends I made, and the need we had for it. Giles, the man who introduced me to the coven I'm studying with now, helped me along at first. Do you know much about Hellmouths?"

"No, my dear, I'm afraid we do not. It seems that our worlds are more different than we suspected. Here, you are either a magical person, or a Muggle. There is no in between. Magic is taught, schooled and regulated." Dumbledore surveyed the mood of the room. Minerva was listening patiently, her concern for the girl was palpable. Lupin was impassive, waiting till the end of the discussion to pass judgment. Snape was sneering, obviously not impressed with Hogwart's new visitor. "Could you explain a little more about why you needed magic, if you had no history with it?"

Willow frowned, unsure of how to begin. "As I said, I lived on a hellmouth. That's really just a place with heaps of mystical energy that allows beings, particularly demons, access between dimensions. Usually they're just trying to bring about an apocalypse, but sometimes they just want to go home… Anyway, the energy attracts all sorts of demons and magical folks, in particular vampires. We have bunch of them around, probably more than you do here. So where there are vampires, there's someone called a vampire Slayer. Do you know of Slayers?" At the universal no, she continued. "Giles would love this, a whole new audience. I'll see if I can do it justice. Into each generation one girl is born with the strength to fight the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the slayer. Or something like that."

Snape snorted, "So, you're this Slayer. You don't look like you could last two seconds in a fight."

Willow glared at him, the words rank, arrogant amateur echoing in her mind. She turned to face him fully, and the irritation of being underestimated bloomed. "I assure you, Professor Snape, I am quite good in a fight. You probably don't want to find out just how dangerous I can be." Her eyes flashed, and Snape shrank back from the glimmers of ebony that swirled thought the clear green depths. Her point made, she relaxed and faced the room once again.

Severus Snape had been feeling out of his depth. He didn't trust the girl, and he didn't appreciate her little intimidation act, or the fact that it worked. When Snape felt threatened, he resorted to sarcasm. Better to attack than be attacked. He knew it wasn't one of his most attractive traits, but he didn't particularly feel the need to psychoanalyze himself and fix it. So he was unpleasant. He had the right, he figured. And he was also going to watch this Willow Rosenberg very carefully.

"But he does have one point. I am not the Slayer. Her name is Buffy Summers, and she moved to Sunnydale my sophomore year in high school. I didn't really have any idea where I really lived until then, weird occurrences were sort of standard fare, and no one looked too carefully into random deaths. Anyway, Buffy showed up with Giles, her watcher. There's only one Slayer at a time, but they don't usually last very long. They're always young girls, trained to fight and kill, stronger than average humans, but still vulnerable. Eventually, the current Slayer dies, and a new one is called. Anyway, if you want to know more about the Slayers, ask me about it later.

"Being friends with Buffy had its risks, and most of us had some skill to compensate. There were a few of us that fought her battles with her over the years. Giles was her watcher, and he had had some magical experiences in his youth. Watchers are trained in all sorts of useful ways to help their Slayers, and Giles was a bit more unorthodox than most. Our little group of scoobies has changed over the years, but at one time or another, it's had a werewolf, a vampire or two, an 1100 year old ex-vengeance demon, a technopagan, a souped up uber-soldier, a cheerleader, Xander and myself."

Handing her a cup of warm chamomile tea, Dumbledore patted her hand. "And who is Tara?"

"Tara was my everything." The room sat in silence.

Clearing his throat, Lupin leaned forward. "The description of your world is fascinating. You say you battled demons and vampires and the like? It may be extremely helpful for our current situation if you could elaborate more on the subject. We are facing a very powerful Dark Wizard."

Willow nodded, "Voldemort. He was in the books I read. He'd just been restored after the Triwizard Tournament. There was no information after that, and I can only guess at the validity of the writer's accounts. So you want my help and information to try to defeat him? Well, I am research girl after all. Point me to the library, and I'll see what I can do."

"We would be most appreciative for any help you could yield, Miss Rosenberg," Dumbledore said. He looked at her contemplatively for a moment. "However, we are not sure that the techniques you used to defeat your enemies could be used to defeat ours. Incidentally, it has been two years and a summer since then, and Voldemort has been quiet, planning and plotting we think, until two nights ago."

Startled, Willow exclaimed, "Oh, so the kids are still here! Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest! That is so cool!"

At Snape's sour expression, Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, my dear, Harry and all the rest are in their final year. Most of them are 18 or so, the older children anyway. It is most fortunate that you're familiar with their situation. It will make the adjustment much easier next week."

Willow squeaked out, "Adjustment? You mean, I'm going to be here when they're here? Ummm, do you think that's safe? I have a tendency to be… unpredictable sometimes. I would rather not be around children if I could help it." She had never liked babysitting, and would rather not be around children at all, regardless of her current inner-magical battles. It was one thing to hang on to her control with these teachers around; she didn't have any interest in testing her patience with 11 year olds.

Sensing her discomfort, Dumbledore smiled calmly, "Miss Rosenberg, I think you will find that your stay here is of benefit to both of us. You are in possession of some potentially very useful information. And we, as in Hogwarts, will provide you a venue to see magic studied in a more formal setting. Minerva and I have discussed what role you will play while you are here, and we think it best that we use a cover story. As it is obvious you are from America, it would be fairly easy to convince people that you are here studying how European magical schools train their children as part of a course you are taking at your university. Magical learning techniques, perhaps. That would also explain your slightly different approach to the subject. We think it best for you to spend time with each of the teachers here, both listening to their teaching style and how the students react. We can set up a loose schedule and will work in time for you to study our situation, if you are amenable, as well as talking with both Professor Lupin and myself. Does that sound alright to you?"

Her thoughts whirled as the possibilities flashed by. She could receive training without overt teaching and no one would judge her- they would encourage her. For once, she was the most important part of the team, not Buffy. A small part of her that had long been thwarted blossomed. She smiled. "I'll do it."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together happily. "That's wonderful! Since it appears that you will be staying for a while, or at least until we find a way to send you home, I thought you and Minerva could take a daytrip to Hogsmeade to purchase anything you may want to make your quarters more comfortable. We have some funds set aside for unexpected circumstances, and I definitely think you qualify. She can fill you in on what's changed here in the past two years, as well. So, have a lovely afternoon shopping!"

Grinning, Willow stood up and followed McGonagall down the staircase once more. The men could hear her light laughter float back to the office. Fawkes ruffled his feathers in response and flew onto Dumbledore's desk. Absently petting the phoenix, the headmaster frowned.

"We have to be careful, Severus, Remus. You were right; she is very powerful. But she has a good heart, and I believe she can help. She obviously has no prejudice working with persons of questionable backgrounds, if demons, werewolves and vampires are her friends. And she must have some unorthodox methods of fighting the forces of darkness as she puts it. Miss Rosenberg will have some difficulty adjusting, and it would be best if we all, Severus, do what we can do to help make her adjustment to our world easier. She will also be able to help us in other ways. If she is presented as an assistant to the faculty, she will be able to help maintain order as well as aid you as much as you need. She wants to learn, I can feel it, and we have every obligation to provide her with whatever knowledge she has lacked."

Lupin nodded, and mentally ran down the list of magical creatures that could be classified as demons. He wondered how she dealt with them, and other aspects of dark magic. She would be fascinating to consult before classes began.

Snape had a bleak look on his face, but he was not wholly displeased. The girl was dangerous. Even he, who wasn't particularly adept at reading auras, felt the magic around her. It settled around her like a cloak. The only people he had ever known that felt remotely the same were sitting at opposite ends of the magical scale, Dumbledore and Voldemort. He had no idea where she fell, and it unnerved him. That said, she was willing to help, and they needed every bit that they could find.

Sighing, he murmured, "I have some potions to check, but I would be happy to help Miss Rosenberg with whatever she needs later. Just let me know." Besides this way, I can keep an eye on her.

The headmaster nodded and stroked his beard, deep in thought himself. "Very well, Severus. We'll see you at dinner then. Remus, care for a chess match, or do you have lessons to plan?"

The werewolfe smiled apologetically, "Sorry, Albus, lesson plans call. I'll take a rain check though." Inclining his head, he preceded the potions master out of the office. Dumbledore continued stroking Fawkes, his eyes staring off to a distance that only he could see

The sky was high and blue; a pair of kites whirled against the backdrop of a few wispy clouds. It was a typical brisk summer day in the Scottish highlands, and Willow was falling in love with her surroundings. It was the most intense place she had ever felt, and that didn't just take the magic into account. It was Old, capital O. The rocks and trees and dirt and air were old; she felt as if she could see back through the millennia. It was exhilarating.

Along the path to Hogsmeade, McGonagall kept up a steady stream of questions about the life Willow had left behind. How she had managed without magic, what classes she had taken, what the weather in LA was really like. Willow was grateful for the mindless chatter. As they approached the gate into the town proper, McGonagall dragged her back to the here and now by asking about her friends.

"You mentioned several friends you left behind. They sounded like they were good friends."

Nodding, Willow murmured, "Yes, they were good friends." Her companion merely raised an eyebrow at the past tense.

"As I said before, she was my everything. I don't know what people's attitudes towards same sex relationships are in this world, but I loved her with all my heart." She closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky.

Placing a comforting hand on Willow's arm, McGonagall continued, "What happened, child."

Head bowed, Willow whispered, "She died. And now I'm here. It's all I could do. Sometimes I can still feel her around me, and sometimes I even think I can talk to her in my dreams. She seems happy where she is, encouraging me to get on with my life. I don't know; I feel like if I do, I'd be betraying her memory. Then again, I could be just dreaming what my unconscious wants to dream, rather than what she actually feels. It's so complicated, and I had to leave before I could even think about dealing. And her awful family came back and took her away, and I don't even know where she went!" Stunned at the sobs bursting from her lips, Willow turned away, only to find herself wrapped in the teacher's wiry arms. Shaking, she curled her arms around the woman in front of her and briefly gave into the sobs. When they slowed she sniffled, and fished around in her bag, looking for tissues. Finding none, she laughed.

"You don't think you could conjure up a Kleenex could you? I seem to be fresh out." A faint smile of relief later, Willow had a ball of fluffy white tissues clutched in her fist.

Gently taking her arm, the older woman led her to a low stone bench at the side of the trail. "You know, Willow- may I call you Willow? You may feel free to call me Minerva, if we are to be working together. Life and death are inexorably linked. We can no more have one without the other. That said- death has the capacity to wreak havoc on all aspects of our lives. I have lost more than I could possibly comprehend. I lost my husband during the first uprising of Voldemort. I have lost more friends than I can count. But in the end, you must move on, begin living again. If you don't, the dark wins in the end. And if nothing else, the deaths of those you love give the fight meaning."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Willow reached for Minerva's hand, "Thank you. No one wanted to deal with me about this. They were probably afraid I would go all psycho or something… I sort of… overreacted… when she was… shot. Maybe my friends thought if they didn't mention it, I wouldn't fall apart. All I needed was someone to listen. So thank you." She bowed her head once again, gathering her thoughts. "Minerva, I don't know how I'm going to fit in here, but I am profoundly grateful for the chance to prove my worth. I'll help in anyway I can. You know that don't you?"

At the naked search for approval, the witch brushed Willow's hair from her blotched cheeks and smiled. "Of course, my dear. We have the utmost faith in you. Come now, we have shopping to do, and I promised to tell you all that's been happening since you've been away."

They stood and continued into Hogsmeade. Willow gasped in delight. It was just as she'd imagined, narrow cobbled lanes, bustling witches and wizards, fascinating shops and stores. She grinned. "This is so cool. I can't believe I'm really here!"

Minerva responded wryly, "Frankly, neither can I. Let's see about some new robes, fit for a young witch. I know just the store for you."

An hour and four shopping bags later, Willow was the proud owner of several pairs of everyday robes, new shoes, sundry underthings, a few pairs of pants, skirts and shirts, and a set of stunning dress robes the same green as her eyes. McGonagall steered her into the Three Broomsticks for a bite to eat.

Rosemerta bustled over to the table as soon as they sat. "Minerva! You didn't visit nearly enough this summer, but at least you finally showed up. And who's this you've brought with you?" The barmaid's eyes checked every last inch of Willow- it wasn't often a new source of gossip traipsed into her shop without warning.

"Rosemerta, this is Willow Rosenberg. She's visiting from America, studying the English wizarding education system. She'll be staying at Hogwarts until her study is finished. Willow, this is Rosemerta, our resident gossip. Everyone will know who you are by the end of teatime." The last statement was only partially in jest, but Rosemerta grinned from ear to ear.

"No doubt about it, Minerva. It's not everyday such a lovely young lady stops by with no warning. The boys will be lining up for a look at you!"

Willow arched her eyebrow, "I'm sure. It's nice to meet you, Rosemerta. I've been dying to try one of your famous butterbeers. Could I trouble you for a pint?"

As Rosemerta bustled off to fill their order of butterbeers and sandwiches, Minerva turned to her young charge. "That was nicely done. I thought we'd be stuck with her forever."

Smiling, Willow whispered sotto voce, "It's like Cordelia and the hair. You've got to distract with the one thing they value most of all."

By the time their orders had been filled, the bar had begun to fill up and the barmaid was pulled in other directions. Thankful for the gossip respite, the talk turned to Hogwarts.

"I thought Professor Lupin had been forced into retirement? How'd he get reinstated?"

"Hmm, well we've worked out a more permanent wolfsbane potion, so the transformation could be held off for longer with fewer doses of the potion. That, and there was severe dearth of eligible people to fill the position, after what happened to Moody. Remus was one of the few people Albus trusted, so he overrode the board and brought him back. Thank goodness for that, he's been a lifesaver."

Frowning, Willow responded, "You know, I used to date a werewolf. He left me to learn how to control his wolf, and when he came back, I was already with Tara. We got a chance to talk though, and he had found a way to suppress the wolf indefinitely, as well as retain his human consciousness during the transformation. Perhaps I could talk with Professor Lupin about it later. He may find some of the meditations helpful. Wish Oz was around to ask questions, but he left… and isn't in this dimension…" Her face twisted into a rough grin, "That will take some getting used to. I can't exactly phone home, not that my parents will notice I'm gone. Giles will probably think I turned myself into a rock or something and haul the whole lake home with him. That'd be a sight to see." Shaking herself, she started in with the questions once again.

"What about the students- Harry, Hermione and Ron? Harry was the focus of the books, pretty much everything was told from his perspective. Is he alright?"

Minerva snorted, "That boy, he'll be the death of me. He's fine- a typical Gryffindor. Always in trouble for something or another, thought we've not had problems with Voldemort in two years. The students' lives progressed pretty much like all do at that age; outside intrusions were rare. Harry's godfather was eventually exonerated, and he now lives with Sirius Black in a wizarding suburb and sees absolutely nothing of his awful Muggle relatives, thank Merlin. Ron finally asked Hermione out last spring and as far as I know they've been dating all summer. I don't know how she puts up with the Weasley charm, but I think she manages. She'll be head girl this year, with Draco Malfoy as head boy." At Willow's startled look, Minerva expounded, "He's very bright and has excellent grades. As questionable as his allegiances are, he has a way with the students, none dare step out of line around him- for fear of being turned into a gnat if nothing else. No one willingly crosses him." She sighed. "We don't know what to do with him exactly. His father's political leanings are still shrouded, and Minister Fudge refuses to hear anything negative about one of the most prominent wizarding families. When Draco's father, Lucius, demanded he be head boy, Fudge spent an hour in Albus's offices browbeating him into acquiescing. It was not pretty."

The noise in the pub somehow had become exponentially louder as the alcohol-for-afternoon-tea crowd swelled. Their sandwiches long consumed, the two witches surveyed the room. Tutting low in her throat, Minerva continued.

"It is close to open war, but no one is willing to make the first move until Harry has graduated. Voldemort most likely wishes to eliminate the Potter threat in a most public fashion before beginning his new public reign of terror. It is only a matter of time. The last attack on Muggles a few days ago was a warning- he is still out there and waiting until the time is right."

"Out of the frying pan into the fire. I think apocalypses follow me around. I think it's been seven in the last six years," Willow mumbled, leaving out the fact that the last apocalyptic event had been of her making- and the fact that she wasn't sure how guilty she felt about it. "I'm sort of an expert on the end of the world. Not so familiar with mad wizards trying to dominate it though. I wonder if the Mayor counts… he just wanted to become a giant demon snake as far as I know. He wasn't forthcoming in his motivations." She chortled, "Man, I can't believe I'm thinking fondly of the Mayor. Distance sure does make the heart grow fonder. That and he was so… predictable. Get the books, eat the spiders, create havoc, eat the graduating class. Those were the days."

Minerva was fairly astonished. Here was this delicate young woman who was calmly discussing the end of the world as if it happened every day. She couldn't believe their good fortune. She could very well be exactly what they needed.

"Well, Willow. If you've finished, we should be getting back before dark and have a bit more shopping to do. I know you said you didn't use a wand, so we could probably forgo that stop. You should probably keep the fact that you do wandless magic quiet. It is not a common ability in this world, and it could be misconstrued." At Willow's nod, she continued. "We'll stop to pick you up some parchment and quills, as well as some books for you to read to familiarize yourself with our ways… not that you haven't read about our world already… Just out of curiosity, how do we compare to the descriptions in the book?"

Grinning, Willow responded airily, "Oh, Dumbledore is about dead on, you are much more intimidating in person, and no one mentioned Professor Snape was hot." With a wink, she was out of her seat and into the street, a bemused McGonagall in her wake.

It seems one can never escape one's past, no matter how much one wishes. Willow sat in the front of the Transfiguration classroom, center seat of the center aisle. As Minerva asked her a question on some aspect of her magical abilities, Willow could see her shadow self in the seat next to her. The old Willow, the Willow before the world of vampires and demons, had her hand was thrust high into the air, the answer ready to burst from her tongue. This Willow, the Willow of here and now, was more cautious. She paused the think how best to phrase her response without alarming the woman she hoped would become her friend.

"I am not exactly sure how to explain this. I can do transformations, but I don't use words like you do. See this pencil?" She waved her hand over it slowly and it shimmered into a long thin snake. The snake curled around her fingers as she picked it gently up.

"Well, Willow, that was… impressive. How exactly did you do that?" The professor eyed the snake warily as Willow stroked its smooth head.

"I didn't used to be able to do this sort of magic. I could follow spell books, do what the papers said, but up until last spring, it was sort of stilted. I needed a form to follow, and sometimes I made mistakes- big mistakes. Last spring… something happened… and I unleashed some magic that is much more free form. I can see what an object is, and what I wish it to be. Then I follow the lines of the original object and… bend… the lines into the new object. Words would only separate me from what I'm doing, I suppose." She laid the snake back onto the desk and blew softly, smiling as the pencil reappeared.

Lost in thought, McGonagall absently picked up the pencil and inspected it closely. "Most interesting. You have just described the nature behind transfigurations, but almost every wizard I know needs the interface of words to accomplish it. Does this apply to you as well? Can you transform yourself into other shapes, or creatures?"

"Like a cat?" She grinned at the other woman's startled reaction. "I remember you're an animagus, but I've never tried before. My appearance I can change as easily as my clothing." Willow-in-robes was suddenly replaced by Willow-in-jeans-and-a-My-Little-Ponies-t-shirt. "But I was discouraged from this sort of thing. I've never tried to turn into an animal, probably because I saw what happened to Amy. She turned herself into a rat to escape from a bunch of parents that tried to burn us at the stake. She got away, but never could turn herself back again. I finally managed it a few years later, but I never had any interest spending quality time in a habitrail. Not my cup of tea." She touched her t-shirt and the robes returned.

"Another complication of life on the hellmouth. This Hansel and Gretel demon tried to stir up trouble and Buffy's mom was sort of possessed. She started M.O.O. and organized the torching of her daughter, me, and another witch named Amy. Luckily Buffy killed it before we died. It's sort of funny in retrospect, but at the time I was convinced I'd be a crispy critter. Would you mind showing me how you transform? I'm fairly sure I could learn from feeling what the magic does around you."

Nodding, Minerva McGonagall stepped away a few paces and suddenly a black and gray tabby was sitting on the teacher's desk. Willow frowned and held her hands near the cat. "Would you mind transforming back again? I'd like to see if I could do it." A mere second later, Minerva the woman was restored.

"No, but can you change me back if I get stuck? Here goes!" Willow closed her eyes and the very air around her frame lit up with sparkles. She let out a huge sigh, and vanished into the form of lynx. The Willow-lynx sniffed the air and gave one experimental leap to the top of the desk, from the desk to the display case, and from the display case to the floor at the transfiguration teacher's feet. Laughing, Willow reappeared.

"That was wonderful! You feel so different as an animal, don't you! Let me try something else." Before Minerva had a chance to say that wizards had only one animagus form, Willow became an elegant golden eagle. She flapped her wings and tried to launch from the desk. Unfortunately, becoming a bird didn't automatically teach her to fly, and she flopped to the floor. The eagle disappeared and Willow sat on the cold stone rubbing her wrists.

"Well, I won't try that again without some instruction. Flying's hard! Um, are you alright? Did I do something wrong?"

McGonagall was white as a sheet. She had never heard of a wizard or witch with more than one animal form, or of one that had obtained animagus status so easily, without the help of a potion or charm. The implications of this were astounding.

"I'm fine, child. I think we'll stop with the lessons for this morning. The students show up this evening, and you'll want to freshen up a bit, I suppose."

Willow nodded warily. Something had upset the teacher, and she didn't know what it was. I came back fine both times. Maybe she didn't like the eagle form… too American perhaps? "Sure, I'll just go check with the other teachers to see if they need anything from me tonight. I'm to come to the great hall with the staff this evening, correct?"

As much as she would love to explore what she had just seen, Minerva knew that it was best to continue as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. "I think you'll be free till the feast. You are to meet with the staff and head boy and girl and be seated before the Sorting. I always oversee that part of the ceremony, so I'll be along somewhat later. Just remember to relax, you'll do just fine."

Gathering her belongings, Willow headed away from the classroom towards her ever increasingly permanent guest quarters. A quickly whispered "Oriental Poppies", and she flopped on her bed, books and papers thrown to one side. She'd added a few decorations of her own, and changed the sheet colors to cream and steel blue. Her clothes were hung in an impressive armoire. All in all, it was more comfortable than any college dorm room, bath aside. The bath made it palatial. Deciding that a nice long soak was in order before the stress of 'opening night', she wandered into the bathroom and twisted a few taps, adding her favorite strawberry bubble bath. She twisted up her hair and sunk in up to her neck.

This is heaven. I could stay in here all day if I wasn't afraid of wrinkling myself into old age ahead of my time.

Gently batting at the bubbles swirling around in great pink tinged mountains, she reflected just how fast a week could pass. Willow had spent time with each of the teachers as they returned. All of them believed the cover story concocted by Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and Lupin. She'd spent one day in the greenhouses, learning her way around and more about snapdragons than she ever wanted to. The Muggle studies teacher, Rendall, had been most delighted to make her acquaintance, and wanted to know just how much American muggles differed from British ones. She and Trelawney had taken one look at each other and with only a modicum of self-restraint, informed the headmaster that perhaps their time could be better spent in other ways. That shuffled her off to the dungeons and Snape.

Snape. She'd meant what she told Minerva; he was handsome. Maybe not in a traditional way, and he could do with a hair wash or two, but he was compelling. All dark and looming, he reminded her of Angel- they were both masters of the brood. And both of them made her jumpy. Snape was always watching her; it was almost as if he knew. It gave her the creeps. Oh, he was always polite and only half as snarky as he could be, but she knew he didn't trust her.

Sighing, she re-twisted her hair back into its clip. She was surprised at how long it had gotten; it was well past her shoulders now. How did it get so long without me noticing? Was I that oblivious to the rest of the world, I didn't even pay attention to my hair? She shook her head. It was entirely possible.

Her day with Snape in the dungeons had gone well enough on the surface. He'd given her a few potions to concoct to watch 'her technique' as he put it. She'd performed each one perfectly; one thing she was good at was chemistry, and this was almost no different. He was almost annoyed that she didn't mess up, and snarled in frustration while waving her out of his laboratory. She didn't need to be told twice.

Willow had bi-weekly meetings set up with Professor Lupin anyway, so she hadn't met with him again aside from mealtimes. She'd also found the library. It was fascinating, and she'd be willing to bet Giles would give his eyeteeth to take a look at it. Most of the books were more practical than the ones in his library, but she had yet to see one describing the exact technique for taking off the head of a Brachnar demon, though she wasn't even sure there were Brachnar demons in this dimension.

She stepped out of the bath, wrapping herself in an enormous fluffy towel. She wandered over to her armoire and looked carefully at the robes inside. The everyday robes would do fine for the school year, and the dress robes were too dressy for tonight. The gray robes again, then. She carefully combed out her hair twisting it up in a half knot, and peered into the mirror. She knew some girls in this world used makeup charms or whatnot, but there was something soothing about the ritual of grooming by hand. Carefully lining her eyes in a soft green and layering on mascara, she tried to see herself as strangers would.

Thin, very pale, long red hair, greenish gold eyes, slightly haunted circles under my eyes. Ugh. I wonder if those will ever go away.

But they couldn't see her past, couldn't see her faults or fears. Satisfied, she smoothed down her nearly dry hair and put on the robes. A pair of neat black leather boots finished her outfit off.

I'm alright. I'm ok. They'll never know. I'm just Willow, and that's all they'll see.

One last breath and she was out of the door. The halls were already ringing with noise of hundreds of children bustling and hurrying into the Great Hall. Willow peered through the throng, heading to the entrance to the teachers' room off the Great Hall. Suddenly she caught sight of a familiar white blond head and grabbed the person, the words "Spike!" leaving her lips before the absurdity of that possible encounter crossed her mind. Already regretting the action, she pulled her hand back as the man in question turned to face her.

Tall, pale with long white hair pulled back into a ponytail, he towered over her by almost a foot, and his granite gray eyes gleamed. He does remind me of Spike somehow. He's so hungry looking, like he can't find what he's looking for.

Backing away, she murmured, "It's a nickname." Her thoughts turned back to Sunnydale, the man in front of her almost forgotten.

"What did your friend do, spike the punch?" Her eyes jerked upwards, not really seeing.

"He tortured his victims with railroad spikes; his real name is William the Bloody." With that she turned away and melted into the crowd. Faintly she found a seat near the wall, avoiding the crush of children. Spike, I haven't thought of him since I left Sunnydale. He wasn't there. Why wasn't he there? He was gone before Tara died, but no one mentioned him. He would have fought… and I would have missed him if he'd died. Surprised at that revelation, she nearly missed the final trickle of schoolchildren into the hall. Jumping up, she almost ran to the doors at the end of the hall, ignoring Snape's glower as he closed the door behind her.

Draco Malfoy had been startled by the touch on his arm. No one touched him; no one would dare, much less call him someone else's name. He'd turned; expecting to have to threaten some soon to be sniveling new first year, but instead had found himself face to face with someone he had never met before, someone who nearly knocked him off his feet. Her touch had burned through him like wildfire. He didn't entirely mind the feeling though, unfamiliar as it was. She was intoxicating, beautiful, intriguing, and it seemed she had some interesting friends.

Draco didn't do interpersonal relationships. They tended to thwart the image he carefully concocted around himself from the first day he arrived at Hogwarts. His father had held him back a year before starting school, ostensibly because his mother couldn't bear to have him apart from her. Thinking back on it, Draco reasoned that it was most likely because he had been small. Waiting a year would provide him with two willing flunkies and bodyguards in Crabbe and Goyle. Lucius wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. So Draco had waited, and entered Hogwarts the same year as that atrocious Harry Potter.

Grimacing, he took a seat in the teachers' waiting room and snarled softly to himself. Draco, despite all his hype and rhetoric, wasn't brainwashed. He was much more intelligent than most people gave him credit for, and he used his not insignificant intelligence to get what he wanted- power. It seemed to him, up until this summer, that Lord Voldemort would be a likely source for that. But then something interesting had happened. After his initial rise two years ago, Draco had asked his father to be included in the meetings, or at least some part of them. Lucius had refused, saying his son was too young. Then he refused saying that Draco was still too close to Dumbledore, and most recently, he'd refused saying that Draco was almost out of school, and his grades shouldn't be compromised. It was then that Draco saw what the game really was.

Lucius was threatened by his son. Draco, if allowed to join the Death Eaters, could outshine his father, and that would never do. Lucius was a selfish man, and did not share power well. Seeing comprehension dawn in Draco's eyes, Lucius had come up with this ridiculous plan for him to be Head Boy- a consolation prize, no more. And Draco had taken it, nodded his head like a good son, and went off to practice this summer's project.

His parent's didn't really care what he did during the summer as long as he didn't harm himself or the manor in any fashion. Dark magic was fine by them, just as long as he wasn't caught. The summer after Lord Voldemort's rise, he'd learned to apparate. This summer, it was taking an animagus form. It had taken him weeks to prepare the potion successfully, but once it was done, he was beyond pleased. His form had turned out better than he'd hoped, and it would be a great aid for any extra curricular activities come the school year.

And now here he was back again. The school never changed. Neither did the people. That Granger girl sat across from him, trying her hardest to pretend he wasn't there. The acrimony had gotten stale over the years, and other than a few token threats and hexes each week, the golden three and the Slytherins pretty much ignored each other. The teachers flitted about, like they always did. He watched Snape stalk in the door to the hall before turning to snarl into the hallway.

A slight figure in gray skirted under his arm, paying his glare no mind. It was her, the girl from the hallway. What's she doing in here? She looks young enough to be a pupil, maybe. He watched under hooded eyes as she turned to face the rest of the room, her eyes widening in surprise as they passed over him. Draco arched an eyebrow in response, and he watched her repress a giggle. No one ever giggled at Draco. Her red hair caught highlights from the fireplace and swirled around her face like flame. She nodded at Lupin and Snape before winking at him. She winked at me! Who does she think she is! He stood as they moved to walk to the teacher's table. The girl walked out after Lupin, and Draco was startled to notice the way Snape's eyes followed her.

He looks at her as if he's not sure whether she'll turn him into a toad. Interesting.

Draco followed Hermione out the door, and took his seat at the end of the table. He couldn't see the girl from where he was sitting, but he could hear her light laughter as Lupin made some sort of witty comment. She certainly seemed familiar with the faculty. He turned to face the rest of the room as McGonagall led the first years up for their Sorting, thinking that this year was definitely looking up.

Willow never thought of herself as an actress. After the deplorable events of the sophomore year talent show, she'd avoided all forms of acting
like the plague. She wasn't even a very good liar. I always come off acting like I drank too much coffee or something. Somehow, she was convinced that if she ever lied, the world would see right through her, and everyone would know she was hiding something. So she was mildly surprised to
find herself seated at the head table at Hogwarts, laughing at Professor Lupin's light banter next to her, feeling as if the world wasn't seeing through
heract. She was a mildly flirty, confident young woman. Her hands didn't shake, she was pretty sure she wasn't glowing like a red tomato, and
whatever she prattled back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had him laughing behind his hand. It was as if she was moving on autopilot, playing a part. She went through the motions in this complicated play and didn't miss a cue. Thank goodness there doesn't seem to be a musical number coming up, she joked silently. That was a nightmare she didn't think she'd ever get over. Stupid opera in stupid Japanese robes.

Seeing Draco, for that's who the young man in the hallway must have been, in the teacher's lounge before seating the previous evening had given
her a turn. She hadn't remembered how silver white his hair was supposed to be, and he definitely didn't act like the spoiled brat from the books.
Then again, that had been a few years ago, and she was beginning to realize the way Rowling portrayed everyone wasn't always accurate. Draco
looked intensely self-controlled. No petulant child was in evidence here; he moved with grace and polish, every inch a gentleman. Sure he'd been sarcastic and snarly, but she had startled him. She hoped he wouldn't pay too much attention to the remarks about Spike; she didn't need to explain about where she came from any more than she had to.

The look on his face when she ducked into the room was priceless; he had as surprised to see her there as she was to see him. The surprise had been carefully masked, but she couldn't resist teasing him, just to see his reaction. Now he was sitting at the other end of the table, trying his hardest to
get a good look at her, but to no avail.

Last night's dinner had gone well enough. McGonagall had clapped her hands and silence fell over the Great Hall. A nervous crowd of first years,
so small and young looking, huddled at the base of the stairs before the teacher's table: the next generation of witches and wizards. One by one,
they came to sit under the hat and were sorted; Willow only offhandedly noticed which houses they were sorted in.

What she was really doing was scanning the hall for faces to put to the names in the books. The Ron and Ginny Weasley were easy. They were the
only two people in the room with hair as red as Willow's, though theirs ran towards orange. She picked Harry as the dark haired boy sitting next to Ron, mouthing something up at the head table at whom she assumed was Hermione. Willow hadn't gotten a good look at Hermione before eating dinner; her back had been to the doorway. Willow had glimpsed her today between classes, a diminutive girl with a large mane of hair dashing
along with an arm full of books.

Dumbledore's opening remarks had been a bit of surprise. "Welcome everyone. I have a few announcements before we eat. Just a reminder to all returning students as well as first years, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason. Please stay out and keep all of your limbs intact. I'd also
like to introduce a new face at Hogwarts this year. I would all like you to welcome Willow Rosenberg. Miss Rosenberg, if you will please stand."

"Miss Rosenberg is joining us for a short time from America where she is studying wizarding educational systems at her university. I would ask
you all to treat her with the same courtesy you show the faculty and answer any questions she may have. Show her just how well we do things on
this side of the pond, eh?" With a grin, he motioned Willow back into her seat. "Now, I think it's time for the feast!"

The noise in the hall had exploded as students reached for their favorite dishes, meeting new arrivals and generally welcoming each other back.
Tonight wasn't much different, and Willow supposed that dinner would always be a noisy affair. I guess I hoped I'd be able to hide for a few more
days. Now I know they're all wondering about me, I wish they'd stop staring when they thought I wasn't looking. No students had approached
her either last night or earlier today. Most gave her a cursory glance and moved on, a few smiled, and the smallest number, mostly Slytherins,
had completely ignored her. Willow had been dying to hear Snape's first year Potions Class opener about putting a stopper in death, given her
personal experience in the matter, but Dumbledore had pulled her aside after breakfast and asked if she would mind looking up any Arithmancy information on transdimensional travel. So, the day had been spent with musty tomes and more than her fair share of homesickness for jelly
donuts and the Sunnydale High School library tables. Carrels were fine for studying, but big books needed big tables, and she didn't want any
curious eyes reading over her shoulder.

Eyeing a steaming plate of some sort of tubular nervously, Willow grabbed a few potatoes before passing the bowl to Lupin, accidentally catching
Snape's eye. After a brief exchange of glares that indicated something along the lines of I'm watching you and I know they turned back to their
respective dinners. You'd think he was trying to recook his sausage with that scowl. Then again, since I have no idea what's in them, more cooking
might not be a bad idea. Willow pushed the sausage plate a little closer to Lupin and quietly wished for a good old-fashioned hamburger.

Draco, on the other hand, was busy glaring at the new Slytherin first years. Best to get them in line early. I don't feel like dealing with them;
hopefully the other students will fill them in. He risked one more glance down the table to his left, only to witness the tail end of Snape and
Willow's staring contest. Curiouser and curiouser. He'd been able to see her more clearly when she'd stood the night before, and once outside the library that morning. Her name meant nothing to him, though, and he knew he'd have heard of her if she came from a prominent wizarding
family, American or no. No one in Slytherin had heard of her, and he was waiting for the owl back from his mother. There was nothing Narcissa couldn't find out if she was part of any highborn wizarding society.

Still, there was something about her. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, for she was, but she fairly glowed. Her aura was so intense; he knew she
was more than she seemed. That would explain Snape's attitude. Draco very much doubted she was here to study education, but he did believe
she was of university age- which meant she couldn't be more than a few years older than he was.

As far as Draco was concerned, there wasn't a woman or girl at Hogwarts that held his fancy. Too ordinary, too dumb, too plebian. He'd avoided
them all together after the ridiculous dance with Pansy Parkinson two years ago. The girl had followed him around for weeks nattering on about
thisor that, until Draco finally lost his temper and threatened to turn her into the Pekinese she so resembled. She left him alone after that. If Draco didn't know better, he'd think he was falling for this Willow girl after just a few sentences of bizarre conversation. Which was ridiculous, since
Malfoys didn't fall for anyone. Whatever it was, he had decided one thing: she was going to be his. And whatever a Malfoy wanted, a Malfoy got.
Smiling a wicked smile, he took his first bite of dinner.

The enchanted ceiling shone with faint starlight. A few wispy clouds drifted by, and the floating candles waved in the imaginary breeze. Dinner
was finished and people were trickling out of the hall. Willow sat watching the display, thinking how much Tara would have liked it. Just the mere thought of Tara still brought a hitch to her breathing, but Willow no longer felt like she was drowning. Perhaps it was just the distance this place provided,but she felt better about herself than she had in a long time. Sighing, she tilted her head back to get a better view, only to see an
increasingly familiar white blond head.

"Miss Rosenberg, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Draco Malfoy. You caught me by surprise yesterday evening, something that doesn't happen often." He held out his hand as Willow turned to face him. She took it and smiled in delight as he brought it to his lips.

"Please, call me Willow. I should have known better than to expect one of my friends to appear here without warning, especially Spike. Though,
he is rather unpredictable," she added softly to herself. Had she been paying attention to the rest of the nearly empty room around them, she would have seen Hermione choke on the last of her pumpkin juice and frantically motion at Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table. The boys were staring
with open mouths as Draco turned on all the Malfoy charm.

"California, just outside of LA," she answered, hoping he'd find something else to talk about. Deciding to take matters into her own hands she
continued on. "I see you're head boy this year. Perhaps you'd like to tell me what this entails since we don't have quite the same thing where I
come from. I'd like to talk to you as well, Hermione." She'd finally noticed Hermione idling closer and closer to the conversation, and figured she'd
save the girl the trouble of putting her arms in the carrot bowl if she leaned any further.

"Well, maybe you would have welcomed her, but I was enjoying having you all to myself." Willow flushed, and inwardly Draco cheered. With a
sharp nod of his head, he left the table and a bewildered Willow in his wake. She stood slowly, made her way out of the hall and completely missed Professor Snape lurking in the corner of the hallway.

Severus Snape was not impressed with the turn of events this year seemed to be taking. With a snarl at Willow's retreating back, he stalked back towards the dungeons. Lord Voldemort had finally woken up from whatever evil slumber he'd been having and Snape was sure they wouldn't like
the results. He sneered as the children parted before him like an overly hormonal sea of pimples and glitter makeup. Why they don't ban that is beyond me. They look like a bunch of pixies sneezed all over them and the damn stuff is a bitch to clean up. One poor hapless first year, obviously unaware of his impending doom, laughed loudly and launched a paper airplane at a group of girls. He squeaked in a most unmanly fashion as Snape latched a hold of his arm and marched him firmly down the hallway.

"Mister Lawson. How kind of you to volunteer for cleaning the display cases on the third floor. We have such a hard time keeping them shiny
during the summer. Filch will be most delighted to make your acquaintance since I'm sure you'll be spending a lot of quality time together this
year." Poor Mister Lawson began to tremble, and Snape was gratified to spy a few unshed tears lurking near the surface. "Mister Lawson, control yourself; you wouldn't want to make a scene now would you? Think how childish that would appear. Then again, if the shoe fits. Isn't that right?" Lawson began to snivel in earnest now, and Snape happily dumped him off at Filch's office.

Feeling much better, Snape continued his trek to apprehend oblivious students. It wasn't that he was a cruel man by nature, just a firm believer
in culling the weak. If the students couldn't learn to control themselves and learn discipline, they would never survive, not with the state of the
wizarding world as it was. There were too many risks and temptations, and it was only getting riskier.

He sighed. And now those risks are coming closer to home. That Willow Rosenberg will be trouble. I know an act when I see one, and she is most definitely acting. And what was that little exchange with Malfoy at the end of dinner? He's never made a move that didn't benefit him in some
form or fashion- he's definitely Daddy's boy that way. It wasn't that Snape didn't like Draco. He didn't even think he was as evil as his father, not
truly, but he was power hungry. And people seeking power as fervently as the Malfoys did were not easily persuaded to give it up. He rubbed his forearm lightly and flushed a pair of Hufflepuffs from behind a clock.

"A little early for snogging in corners, isn't it Miss Borchard? I suggest you turn your attention to your academics; your potions homework
certainly could use the work. And Mister Icharius, I suggest the same. It would be a shame to have to see you in my class again next year." The children rushed off, thanking their lucky stars they didn't have to join Lawson with the display cases. Snape rubbed his arm again, but didn't pull
the sleeve back to look. He already knew what he'd see.

Rounding his thoughts back to the problem of the school's unintentional visitor he frowned. Dumbledore certainly seems to trust her, and
Minerva practically adopted her. I suppose as long as she keeps out of my way, we'll manage, but the sooner she goes home the happier I'll be.
I wonder if there's a potion to facilitate hopping between dimensions. Hmmmm, looks like I've got my extracurricular reading for the semester…

The hallways became chillier the closer to the dungeons he moved. Pulling his cloak tighter around his slender frame, he hoped the house elves lit
the fires in his classroom. One day, and already the children have messed things up. It'll take hours to sort out the newt's eyes from the
salamander's. Not to mention picking up all the spilled dried dung beetles. Rotten Weasley, he'll be in detention for a week for that one.

Willow smiled and surveyed the classroom. Glass tanks full of grindylows lined one wall, and a trunk or two sat at the front by the desk. "It's just like home, really, except here the baddies aren't trying to kill me or eat me. Nice, actually."

He turned to face her more fully, watching her carefully. It was almost impossible to believe that she was the same girl that wandered into dinner not so long ago. She seemed so self possessed, so happy to be there. He wasn't sure how happy he'd be to find himself in another dimension. "How have
the people treated you?"

She frowned at that. "Well, the only person that has introduced himself besides the faculty is Draco Malfoy, which was weird. I don't remember the books portraying him as that friendly. But they were Harry Potter books, as in Harry the Hero."

"Well, Draco can be charming when he wishes, though he is a Malfoy. And Malfoys should always be treated with caution, at least until you find out what they want. I don't wish to be alarming. Most people can be interesting if you get to know them. No one else has introduced themselves?"

"No, though Hermione butted in on a conversation. It's strange. I see her with Ron and Harry, and I see the way I was with my friends Xander and Buffy. The three of us, out to save the world. Living in the world, but not being of it, I suppose. It's hard to watch. But I would like to meet the other two, if just to see how they compare."

A sheepish Harry and Ron crept around the doorstop. "Harry and Ron are working on their outside project with me. In their last year, the students
at Hogwarts complete an extra curricular project of their choice to graduate with honors. Ron is studying the Merpeople and Harry is looking at the practical aspects of designing a better Sneak-o-Scope. Fascinating projects, really, if I could just get them to study."

"So, you're from California then. Is it as sunny as the TV shows say? Cause, lots of rain here. You'll have to get used to the crappy winter weather, if
you stay that long." Harry's hair fell over his eyes, and he pushed it up with a small smile.

"Yes, it's nice. Sunny almost all the time. I'm from a town called Sunnydale, actually. And I hope it's an easy winter. I don't know how long I'll be staying, but I hate snow." Willow glanced at the wall clock. "Oh, I had no idea it was so late. I should be heading back up to the library to pick up
some books before dinner. I wonder what it'll be tonight…" she trailed off.

Willow didn't go to the library. She left the front hall and headed down the front lawn to the lake. A small breeze blew in from over the lake and ruffled the grass into waves. She walked along the edge of the lake, picking her way over the boulders and piles of loose stone. The way was uneven, and she made sure to keep her toes out of the water. There's no knowing what's in there. Best to keep my digits to my self. She slowed, knelt down and picked up a handful of stones, and sighed to herself.

This is it I think, where I came through. I know it's not real, Tara, but maybe I can talk to you here. She placed the stones in a neat pile on top of the boulder that resembled the one she had rested on after her walk from the lodge. Dusk was falling and the birds sang their welcome to the evening. It's hard, but I'm trying to do what you and Giles taught me- to be good and in control. I like it here, and I'd be happy if I could stay. That doesn't mean
I don't miss Sunnydale, cause I do in a don't want to be eaten sort of way. But you're not there, and… I would rather not be there without you. She bowed her head, letting the tears that threatened to fall drip down her nose. A stick cracked off to her right in the woods, but all she saw was a flash of silver beneath a bush. She peered into the underbrush for a second before leaning back and closing her eyes.

The people here, they seem nice. But to watch how they live, it's killing me. A swish and flick and poof! It's all done. I try to do things the long way around, but I'm afraid that someone will notice. How come they get to use magic and I don't! What would be so awful if I did? She pitched a thick twig into the lake in frustration. I should get going back to the castle. I know dinner is soon, and I'd rather not march in late in front of everyone. I feel like they watch me enough. And how come Draco was the only friendly one! Do I look funny or something? High school sucks. I thought I'd never have to go back, but here I am- the new girl in school. Not a teacher, not a student. Willow stood and brushed off her robes. I'm glad we could talk. Maybe I'll come back soon, if I can get away. I miss you.

The light was turning purple, and Willow hurried over the stones, careful her shoes didn't slip on the slick lakeside scum. The evening air was brisk,
and she was glad of the extra protection the robes afforded. The giant squid thrust one great tentacle out of the water and waved in her general direction. Figuring it was best to keep giant squids happy, she tentatively waved back. Across the great lawn and behind the greenhouses, Willow
could see students hurrying in from the quiddich field and figured she wouldn't be too late for dinner. Now that's a game I'd like to see!

"I beg your pardon, did you say you can't fly?" His face a study in consternation, Draco stopped in the middle of the stairway. The other students flowed smoothly around them, leaving a respectful bubble around Draco and Willow. She figured it had much more to do with Draco than herself.

Draco grinned. "Well, perhaps I'll have to teach you then. I do enjoy flying, particularly on a nice broomstick. They've just come out with a new Firebolt Millenium edition; it corners like a dream." He frowned slightly and added, "But it's a bitch to maintain. All that trimming of twigs gets irritating."

Draco's step hesitated briefly, but he continued walking. "Yes I do. Team captain this year too. Though, Father didn't buy me that." His voice turned harsh, and Willow was a surprised at the sneer curling his lip. "I have played since my second year, but it took the rest of the school almost four years to recognize I'm as good a flyer as that Harry Potter prat." Willow kept her expression neutral, but her thoughts were whirling. "So, would you like to learn how to fly then someday?"

"I'm sure you'll do fine. Just let me know when you're free one afternoon, and I'll set aside some time after quiddich practice. The field is usually empty then, and I'll bring one of my extra brooms. Excuse me, I have to catch the Slytherin prefect before dinner." Draco darted off after a hulking fellow in silver trimmed robes.

Supper passed without much active thought on Willow's behalf. She explained why she didn't eat pork and got a lecture about the intelligence of pigs from Madame Sprout. Remus Lupin chatted about his first year classes, and how one student had to be taken to the infirmary with shock- it seemed
she was petrified of pond weed, almost literally. Figuring it was like her frog fear, Willow let that one pass without comment. Hagrid was rambling on about one of his new creatures, but like the rest of the table, she had no interest in actually meeting the thing. After the dishes had magically vanished, Willow stood, intending to head to the library before bed. She started down the corridors when she heard her name. Turning, she saw Hermione
running after her.

"Well, I was a prefect last year, so this isn't much different. I deal with more than my own house now, but the duties are pretty much the same. I talk with anyone who needs it, make sure that the houses are behaving themselves, and offer academic counseling to students in trouble. I like teaching,
so I think it's a good fit. Do you like teaching? It's what you're studying isn't it?"

"Um… yeah. I like teaching. I did some in high school, that's what we call it. One of the teachers… passed away, so I took over her computer classes.
I enjoyed it, but I'd rather teach something else I think. Computers are my hobby, but I'd rather not make them my life."

Hermione fairly gushed in enthusiasm, "Computers- that is so cool. We don't get to use them here. They don't work in the castle, but I have one at home. My parents are Muggles, so they used computers most of my life." She paused and watched Willow to gauge her reaction. Willow smiled encouragingly. "I don't mean to be paranoid, but some people here don't take kindly to Muggle-borns."

Willow laid her hand on Hermione's arm. "Don't worry about Draco. I wonder what he'll think when he finds out my parents are Muggles. Actually,
the only time my mother acknowledged I practiced any sort of witchcraft was when she was tying me to the stake to be burned. I understand."

Hermione sighed in relief. "So, you don't care. And apparently your mother isn't too thrilled about having a witch in the family. Harry's mom's sister was like that, but I'm pretty sure she didn't go all midevil. Did your mother really try to burn you at the stake?"

Beaming, Hermione nodded. "I'd love that! See you!" As Willow watcher her walk away, she was struck with an odd sense of homecoming. She's
almost like I could have been, before Jenny and Angelus. Shaking her head, she wandered over to the arithmancy section, still in search of Dumbledore's books.

Saturday morning dawned high and clear. Willow forwent breakfast to secure her increasingly favorite carrel in the library. It overlooked the lake
and edge of the Forbidden forest, and felt as if she could almost see her way home if she wanted. Her pile of books was undisturbed, a perk of making friends with the librarian. She opened the one Minerva had recommended on animagus transformations and settled down for a read.

Almost an hour later, she gasped. Oh. So this is why she seemed so unnerved the other day. Seems I can't be both a lynx and an eagle. Or at least
I'm not supposed to be able to. Hmmm, it appears that you can take the appearance of other animals with a glamour, but actually becoming one
is impossible. And the witch or wizard's animagus form is predetermined by their personality. She started out the window for a moment, vaguely watching a few clusters of students walking around the edge of the castle towards the playing fields.

So, either this means I'm suffering from multiple personality disorder, or there is something seriously wrong with my magic. I know I was both
of them. And I'm pretty sure I could have been other animals as well. I don't know why I chose a lynx, but the eagle was just fooling around. She sighed, so deep in thought that she didn't hear Hermione coming up behind her.

Willow smiled and stood up, closing the book and pushing it behind the others. "Sure Hermione. I'd love to. I'd forgotten that was today, this week passed way too quickly." The two girls made their way out of the library and through the labyrinth of corridors to the outside. "So who's supposed
to win this match anyway?"

"Well, we won last year, but three of our chasers graduated, so it's an almost new team. Both Ginny and Ron are beaters," here she flushed a little with pride, "and Harry of course is the seeker. Luckily, the Slytherins have some new blood as well, and this is the first year that Draco's captain. I guess
it's anyone's game, but I want to see the look on Snape's face when we beat him. Again." She grinned with glee. "I can't wait!"

Willow followed her up into the stands on the Gryffindor side of the stadium to find Minerva McGonagall saving two seats. "There you are children,
the game's about to start. See the players are coming out onto the field now. What do you think of the new uniforms, Hermione? We had them redesigned over the summer."

The Gryffindor team was resplendent in glowing gold and red. Willow found herself almost preferring the muted silver and forest green of the Slytherin team. Draco's white blond head was easy to identify, particularly since it was at least 3 to 4 inches taller than everyone else. Almost as if he knew she was watching, he turned to face her, his eyes seeking hers. In one breathless second, she felt as if she was drowning in their glacial depths before she looked away. Now that's weird. And now he's nodding to me! What an odd boy. Almost against her own wishes, she found herself noting that despite his reputation, Draco really was a handsome boy. No, man. Maybe that's the difference, he carries himself like a man, surrounded by children. I wonder what he's seen that makes him that way. Harry has just as much reason, but he's still a kid, all floppy hair and youthful exuberation. But
not Draco. Lost in thought, she missed Madame Hooch throw the game into motion.

It was as if the entire field was electrified. Swooping, diving, shoving, and spinning, the two teams clashed in the center of the field. Willow almost couldn't follow the action, and decided she'd better just watch the overall game. The players dipped and swerved in a complicated midair ballet,
almost like hockey, with out the fights. Hmmm, spoke too soon. Looks like that Slytherin beater just whacked the Gryffindor keeper instead of the bludger. And now he's out of the game… what- a penalty? And what are those chasers doing? I have no idea. This is so confusing.

The Slytherin bleachers were roaring complaints and generally harassing the other team. Pennants waved and someone had handed out horns or something noisy. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a pair of figures diving towards the Hufflepuff stands- Harry and Draco. They had both seen the snitch at the same time and were now engaged in trying to pitch each other off their respective brooms. Neither succeeded, but in the scuffle, the snitch was lost. Snarling, Draco pulled up and Harry swung down skimming the grass.

Willow checked the score: Slytherin 40, Gryffindor 30. Well, at least it'll be a close game until the snitch is caught. She squeaked in surprise with the rest of the stands as the snitch materialized only inches away from her face. She scrambled backwards as McGonagall and Hermione stood to move out of the way. The snitch moved upwards only a few feet, still well within the stands. The other spectators pushed and shoved their way out of its immediate vicinity, but Willow sat there dumbfounded. With a whistle that sounded like an oncoming Slayer-thrown stake, the two seekers shot towards her. Hermione leaned forward and snagged Willow's elbow, dragging her out of the flyer's oncoming paths. Willow got a very good look at Draco's version of game face as he flew past with a wink, executing a neat midair spin as he snatched the snitch right out of Harry's open grasp.

Harry roared in frustration as the closing bell sounded a Slytherin victory. A glance over to the Slytherin stands revealed a very smug looking Snape who waved coyly at McGonagall thundering out of the stands, an obviously sore loser. Hermione sighed.

"Great. Now Ron'll be all pissy for the rest of the day. I might as well go back to the library with you, Willow, he'll be no fun until tomorrow, or until he eats half the table full of food. Come on." Hermione stood and followed the other dejected Gryffindor students down out of the stands. Willow remained for a few minutes, watching the cheering Slytherins hoist Draco onto their shoulders and carry him off the field. Still lost in thought, she trailed slowly after Hermione.

The morning owl post swept through the long open windows at the end of the Great Room. The fluttering of silent wings was barely audible over the breakfast rabble, but the student body turned as one to search for news from home, letters from loved ones, even a package or two. Willow paid them no mind; there would be no letter for her.

At the end of the head table on the other hand, Draco Malfoy watched intently for his family owl, Hebrides the great horned owl. He was expecting a post from his mother and his eyes gleamed in appreciation as Hebrides swooped through the window carrying a small package and letter. The owl settled onto the table, neatly snitching the crispy bacon from Draco's plate as he untied the package. Draco smoothed the soft feathers and smiled as Hebrides nipped his finger before launching himself from the table and winging impressively out the windows to return to Malfoy Manor. Draco slid the letter from the small box and neatly opened it.

I have not been able do discover the parentage of Willow Rosenberg. There are no wizarding Rosenbergs listed in southern California. As a matter of fact, I had Uncle Elias check the muggle databases for births of Willow Rosenberg, and there are none listed. Unless your lady goes by another name, she doesn't exist. As for your other request, it is enclosed. I enchanted a book on Latin grammar to take its place. If your father picks it up, he'll get a refresher course. He needs one anyway. I wish you the best of luck, whatever you choose to do with it. If you need any supplies, contact Alfonse Gliberman in Hogsmeade. I have an account with him, and he never asks too many questions.

Draco frowned in puzzlement, before shooting a look to the other end of the table where Willow was sugaring her grapefruit. He hefted the book in his palm, before slipping it into his robe pocket. He wasn't sure what the teachers would do if they found him with it, but it was safe to say they wouldn't be happy. He was actually fairly pleased that it could even be brought inside the grounds without being detected. Humming happily to himself, he gathered up his books to head to Herbology. He caught up with Crabbe and Goyle at the doors and swept down the stairs to the courtyard.

Draco favored Crabbe with a sneer. "No, Crabbe, I did not get any chocolates. I got something much, much better. What are we doing this morning anyway? I forgot to look up last week's notes." Goyle and Crabbe exchanged blank looks. "Never mind. I'm sure Granger will tell everyone without being asked. That'll be good enough. Come on."

The three stalked into Herbology class and stood with the rest of the Slytherins on the far side of the table. No matter how old they got, Draco was pretty sure that Gryffindors and Slytherins would never mix voluntarily, at least not en masse. He could see Ron's red head turned down to whisper something in his girlfriend's ear and Hermione giggle in response. She elbowed Harry in the ribs and Harry whipped around to look at the Slytherin corner where Draco was standing.

He rolled his eyes; it was going to be one of those classes. Gryffindors never took loosing well, and this weekend's Quidditch game was no exception.
He was so busy glaring back he missed Willow slip in the doorway and stand back from the rest of the class.

Willow didn't actually know which class she was observing, other than it was Herbology again, and she liked Herbology. The other day she watched the Ravenclaw first years wrestle with the snapdragons Madame Sprout had shown her when she first arrived. Feisty little plants, hope I never have to prune them, she muttered to herself. She noted idly that it was the seventh year combined Gryffindor/Slytherin class but thought nothing more of it as Madame Sprout began her lessons on bullwhip kelp.

"See here, class. Reach down into the tanks and grasp a whip. Reaching under the bulbous area, run your knife around to isolate the float bladder. This is used in buoyancy potions, or anything else where you wish to be lighter than the medium you're floating in. For very advanced potions they may even be used to levitate the drinker. Besides, seaweed is very good for you. Now, gently peel back…"

Willow's thoughts wandered as she watched the class wrestling with the enormous leaves and slippery stalks. The smell of the ocean permeated the greenhouse, and she wondered whether the kelp was grown here, or brought in for the lesson. Anything was possible she supposed as ran light fingers over the stiff leaves of a particularly beautiful orchid. The orchid turned its luminous silver face towards her and glowed slightly. Willow smiled wistfully and blew gently across the petals, blinking as the flower lit up in a pattern of quicksilver lights. She sighed and swiveled her head as a splash caught her attention.

Draco stood near the tank, soaked from head to toe with smelly, salty seawater. Harry, Hermione and Ron were beside themselves with laughter and even Crabbe, Goyle and the rest of the Slytherins were discreetly snickering. Draco's pale face turned even paler and he maneuvered his arm such that his wand slipped neatly into his hand. As he surreptitiously held his hand above the level of the tank, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Echoing around in his head, he was sure he could hear Willow.

'Don't Draco. Don't give him the satisfaction. It's not worth it.' He looked wildly around for a moment, and spied Willow lurking quietly behind the bench of Mercury Orchids. She had a quiet, sly smile playing at the corner of her lips.

'I'm sorry, did I startle you? Perhaps, you would win this by just laughing it off. Much more dignified than spraying hexes all over the greenhouse, don't you think?' Draco coughed and slid the wand back up his sleeve. He snorted something that could have been a laugh and swept his sodden, white hair back into a ponytail.

"Well, Potter, that was refreshing. I recommend it, really. I'm sure it's good for your skin." The Golden three just gaped at him. He turned to Madame Sprout who was eyeing him as if he'd been replaced by a pod person. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go put on some dry clothes." When she didn't say anything, he turned and swept regally out of the greenhouse. By this point, everyone had stopped laughing, and the lesson had ground to a halt.

"Erm, well. Potter, Weasley clean up this mess before you leave. And please try not to drown my plants again; salt water is bad for them. Now for the rest of you, bring your extracted air bladders to me and I'll prepare them for your Potions class." She bustled around gathering bladders and answering questions.

Willow melted into the background, giggling to herself. That was too funny. I don't care if they're supposed to be the good guys; that was just mean. Serves them right to have to clean up the mess. Hmmm, I wonder if Draco will ask for an explanation of some sort… I guess this wasn't fair to spring on him. Her giggles tapering off, she worried at her fingernails. Actually, that was probably pretty stupid. What if Dumbledore finds out? Or Snape! Oh God, he'd hate that…

A very sober Willow answered Madame Sprout's hail from the corner of the greenhouse. "There you are, dear. Would you mind taking this to the potion's classroom on your way out? I know Professor Snape is expecting these today and I have to oversee Harry and Ron."

With a quick squeak, Hermione bounced off to class, and Willow continued her navigation towards the dungeon, perversely hoping both to avoid Draco and to see how he was handling himself. It wasn't every day that someone lectured you from inside your own head, and given how much Spike and Xander had liked it, she wasn't sure he wouldn't be mad about it. She sighed and slowed down, watching the paintings ripple and move, the figures wandering back and forth. Getting a grip on herself, she entered the potions classroom.

Professor Snape was well into his lecture. He wandered around the aisles, hissing corrections where needed, subtracting points with gleeful abandon when any of the Gryffindor sixth years made a mistake. Colin Creevy added his powdered narwhal horn too early and a foul smelling mushroom cloud erupted from his cauldron. He winced in anticipation as the professor rounded on him, a thunderous cloud of black. Willow watched dispassionately as Snape narrated all of Colin's faults for the world to hear, then deducted 10 points for stupidity. Holding her box, Willow continued watching the drama of Potions class unfold. When most of the potions were finished, and the lucky few who escaped unscathed departed, she walked to the front of the room, box of air bladders extended.

"Professor Snape, Madame Sprout asked me to bring these to you." He snarled a thank you and rubbed his forearm pensively. She placed the box on the desk and turned to leave. Pausing, she looked back over her shoulder. "You know, Professor Snape. You remind me of a psychology professor I once had."

"She was a good teacher until she was skewered alive by her frankensteinian creation and reanimated as a zombie to try to create a war between humanity and demons." She shrugged and walked out of the classroom. Professor Snape stared blankly after her, rubbing his forearm. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, a picture of remorse bowed by the weight of years.

Time flew by in the fall, as it always does. The leaves around the grounds began to change, and the students added an extra layer of sweaters to their usual garb. Hot cider was provided at teatime and the house elves made sure all the fires were lit. Willow was immersed in the world of Hogwarts, only occasionally wallowing in homesickness. She settled into a routine of sorts. Classes in the mornings, library in the afternoon, a walk at teatime, dinner and an evening in her rooms. Sometimes, she'd play games with Minerva, or have chats with Remus in the evenings.

Mostly though, she kept to herself. Hermione was busy prepping for her N.E.W.Ts, and though they ran into each other in the library often, the stress levels coming off Hermione were enough to give Willow an ulcer by association. She hadn't really gotten to know any of the other students well, except Draco. Draco was acting decidedly odd, actually. He'd been nothing but friendly after the incident in the greenhouse, but she occasionally caught him watching her. It made her stomach flutter in ways she wasn't sure she liked, but he did nothing overt: an occasional comment here or there at meals, or when passing in the halls. She was believed he'd said something to the Slytherins since the whole lot of them, from the Crabbes and Goyles down to the newest first years were scrupulously polite. Unfortunately this made the Gryffindors suspicious, so she was pretty sure the only reason they were still friendly was because she and Hermione were.

High school is so complicated. Whoever said it was Hell was right. She sighed and continued along her usual late afternoon walk. She held a large bag of raw meat in one hand as she carefully picked her way across the rocks by the side of the lake. The center of the lake swirled as the giant squid followed her progress.

"Hey Squidward. I brought you a snack." She opened the bag and threw a haunch of beef into the water as far as it would go. "I noticed Hagrid was back to bringing you sturgeons and the like, and I remembered you seemed to prefer beef, so I talked some of the house elves out of the haunch. I'd get you a whale to eat, but somehow I don't see Dumbledore being too happy about that. I hope you like it." He waved gently as one enormous tentacle snagged the meat and pulled it under the water. She watched for a moment before continuing.

She'd noticed one afternoon, sitting at her carrel in the library, that Hagrid fed the giant squid around lunchtime everyday. Other than that though, no one had much contact with the giant mollusk. Feeling perversely sorry for the creature, she made it a point to talk with it whenever she went to visit Tara's rock. There were dozens of small rock piles on or near the stone and Willow dutifully added the latest one.

Here you go, Tara. Another one for the pile. I gave Squidward a snack. Has he been good company? She looked out at the lake, and noticed the ripples that indicated Squidward was on his way. It's hard to believe I've been here this long! This weekend is the big Halloween Ball. What do you think, Tara, should I go? I haven't been to a dance since Prom at Sunnydale High. Though, this one is less likely to have murderous hell-beasties trying to eat the participants. The rock remained silent. Well, I should go to Hogsmeade tomorrow anyway, even if I don't get some last minute stuff for the dance. I need a few more quills and some more quick drying ink. It is such a pain in the ass to write everything out long hand, but when I suggested computerizing the campus, Minerva spit out her coffee. Apparently that isn't such a good idea; the ghosts would be most upset or something. Sounded like bunk, but it's their place not mine. Oh! She scrambled up in surprise as Squidward lumped a huge boulder up from the bottom the lake. Three more followed as he created a larger version of the memorial stone piles that she'd brought for Tara. Touched, Willow began to tear up.

"Thanks, Squidward. I know you may not understand the custom, but I appreciate the sentiment. I'm glad you're taking care of Tara for me." He waved his tentacle gently and reached out to softly sucker her hand with his four-inch sucker pad before propelling himself away.

Well, that was odd. But sweet. Go figure, a giant squid named after a cartoon character from Sponge Bob Square Pants is sweet. She sighed and scanned the woods by the side of the lake. She was having the sensation of being watched. Sometimes, when she sat out at the lake before dinner she was sure that something else was out there with her, though it never showed itself. Not eager to visit with any of the creatures in the Forbidden Forest, she usually ignored it. Today was no exception as she gathered her robes about her and laid her hand on the boulder.

I'll see you soon Tara. Hopefully I can come on Sunday and tell you all about how I didn't make a fool of myself at the ball. She nodded her head once as a goodbye to the rock and to the giant squid and strolled into the Great Hall just before dinner. Passing the near end of the table on the way to her seat, she heard Hermione mention her name.

"Willow, there you are. I was just asking Professor McGonagall if she'd like to meet my parents tomorrow. I'd like you to meet them as well." Willow's face lit up in a smile. "They're allowed to visit Hogsmeade tomorrow with other Muggle parents of students. It's something new they've instated this year. Isn't it exciting!" Willow nodded.

The day of the Halloween dance dawned overcast and cloudy. Rolling dark gray clouds whirled overhead and while not cold, the weather was raw
and oppressive. Severus Snape turned away from the window in the Headmaster's study and leaned against the heavy stone sill.

"I heard you the first five times, Severus. The students are worried about their families, particularly the children of Muggle parentage. This weekend allows them to meet with their families in the relative safety of Hogsmeade and reassure themselves. It's good for morale; surely you must see that."

The Headmaster rooted through a drawer at the side of the desk before surfacing with a plain paper sack. "Ah, here they are. Mmmm, would you like one? No? Alright then, since you are so concerned, why don't you take the afternoon off and go to town yourself. You've been working yourself too hard anyway."

The black clad Potions professor snorted. "Fine Albus, I'll go play watchdog. I know Minerva is planning on going as well. Seems Miss Granger
wishes to show off her parents to her favorite teachers… it's a wonder I wasn't invited." He rolled his eyes with a smirk. "But I'll be there, don't
worry." He turned back to the window casing and traced the paths of the students across the lawn with intense eyes.

Draco ran over the list again in his head, as well as the directions to the less frequented magic shop run by Alfonse Gliberman. He shouldered his rucksack and squinted his eyes at the sky before starting up the path to Hogsmeade. He'd seen Willow and Professor McGonagall walk out earlier
with the Granger girl, ostensibly to meet her parents for lunch. Not wanting to be saddled with henchmen to stupid too realize what was going on;
he fobbed Crabbe and Goyle off on Pansy and Millicent, saying he had some errands to run for his mother. The others were suitably intimidated by Narcissa Malfoy to leave him alone.

His mother was a remarkable woman. She was the dragon lady of the social scene, running things her way and only her way for years. She organized the parties, banquets and fundraisers. She manipulated the backstage politics like a master. She was ruthless and socially ambitions. And she loved
her son dearly. An endless supply of treats had made their way into the Slytherin common room courtesy of Narcissa, and she always seemed to
know just what to get him for his birthday.

She always seemed to know a lot of things, as it turned out. She'd come to his room right before school started and sat down to have a little chat.
Draco hadn't realized that she'd noticed any change in behavior over the last few months; Merlin knew his father noticed nothing. On the surface,
their relationship was as it had always been. Lucius was mildly disappointed in his son's every action, and Draco was barely tolerant of his heavy-handed parenting. They stayed out of each other's way, mostly, except for mealtimes, wherein their conversation had mostly consisted of current events and Quidditch. It was rather boring.

Despite being the wife of a preeminent Death Eater, Narcissa had no interest in the politics of war. Her battles were fought over napkin arrangements and salad plates. She had no interest in Voldemort and his plans, as long as they didn't interrupt her brunch schedule. So when she sat on Draco's
bed that sticky summer night and told him to be careful, his father would figure it out in time, he hadn't really been all that surprised. She'd hugged
him close, and reminded him that she was always her son, no matter what happened, and that would always come first. Draco merely nodded his
head and hugged her back, wrapped in the familiar sensation of home.

The path to Hogsmeade ended eventually and he turned his thoughts to the now rather than the then. Turning down a narrow lane three stores
down from Honeydukes, he saw a shallow doorway marked only by a golden cauldron on the door. He opened it cautiously and stood in front of
a dark wood counter to ring the bell. From behind the desk wandered the thinnest man Draco had ever seen. Skeletal in the extreme, Gliberman
was almost six and a half feet tall, with long thin fingers and wild white hair.

Gliberman plucked the list from Draco's outstretched hand. Skimming over it briefly, he arched one white eyebrow before responding. "Hmm,
these items are not usually seen together any longer. It will take a few minutes, Master Malfoy. Unless I am mistaken, you may wish to make a trip
to Nimela's Glitters across the way. She would probably stock something suitable. I will have the items ready for you when you are finished."

Nodding his thanks, and understanding, Draco left the small shop and turned further down the alley. Nimela's turned out to be an artfully decorated store specializing in ornamental metalwork, especially jewelry. Draco grinned, grateful for Gliberman's advice; the shop would indeed be perfect. Nimela herself was behind the counter when he arrived. Before he had a chance to ask, she was already speaking.

Taken aback, Draco nodded and described the details. Nimela returned with a tray of items to choose from, and Draco's eyes lit up. "These two will
be perfect. Please wrap them in the same box, if you will." She nodded and wrapped them in shiny opalescent paper. Slipping the box into his bag,
he returned to Gliberman's.

"Here you are, Master Malfoy. Please give your mother my warmest regards. And if you would be so kind, let her know that the Chameleon Eggs she
so favors are back in stock." Draco thanked the elderly shopkeeper and turned only to stop short at the reflection in the window.

With a gasp, he backed up slightly, wondering if there was an enchantment on the glass. Draco was certain he could see himself, 20 years in the
future, before he came to his senses and realized he was staring at his father. Lucius was staring right back with a scowl on his features. Sighing,
Draco left the shop.

The Three Broomsticks was bustling with weekend visitors. Hermione's parents were gracefully hosting a herd of witches and wizards for lunch.
Harry and Ron were there of course, as well as Fred and George, taking the afternoon off from their joke shop, Minerva McGonagall and Remus
Lupin held down the teacher contingent, and Willow sat at the far end with Hermione. The table with Willow and her companions was just as noisy
as the rest of the pub and she found herself wishing for a little more peace and quiet. It seemed that the Grangers felt the same way, and with a volley
of good wishes, they stood to leave. Politely excusing herself, Willow stood as well.

The Grangers nodded before gathering up their things. "We're headed over to the rail station. Wish the floo network worked for our home, but not during the school year. Ah well." As Mr. Granger bent down to pick up a shopping bag, Willow noticed a faint shimmering in the air behind them.

Out of nowhere, several black robed figures popped into the middle of the street. Deep hoods obscured their faces and the fabric of their robes was
so dark it seemed to absorb the light. The middle figure of the three pointed his wand at the Grangers and muttered something unintelligible.
Suddenly the pair of Muggles screamed as they were yanked 20 feet into the air. Patrons rushed out of the Three Broomsticks and Hermione flung herself down the stairs at the attackers. Before she got very far, however, one shouted out "Petrificus" and she fell to the ground, petrified. As the Granger's screams became those of pain, panic threatened to boil over.

Soundlessly, she raised her arm and curled her fingers. The Grangers were suddenly no longer floating; they were on the ground near a newly unpetrified Hermione. Sobbing, she embraced her parents. Their prey abducted, the Death Eaters rounded on Willow.

With one flick of her wrist, the wizard's wands burst into flame. "See, that's much more dramatic. Wood is just so fragile and easy to burn." The three Death Eaters dropped their flaming wands with small shrieks of pain. Snarling, the self-styled leader leapt at Willow. With one whispered word, "Thicken," he stuck and hung midair.

Inwardly, Willow was having a battle of her own. The magic, so long contained was rushing through her system. She could feel the power, swirling through her, and it called to her. It told her how to defeat the enemy, so powerless and puny. It called for their destruction; it was only just. She
shook her head as her eyes began to glow with night.

Fighting for control, Willow screamed, "No!" as she gathered the three to her with invisible strands and pushed. Then there was silence. The street
was empty of black clad figures and Willow stood alone, her hands limply by her side, her head bowed, eyes closed. She trembled and stood as still
as she could, binding the magic back inside.

Down the streets, three sets of eyes watched with great interest. Severus Snape had just stepped out of the bookstore. He saw the Death Eaters
appear at the end of the street, but was too far away to do anything. With growing dread, he watched Willow dispatch them quickly. He didn't see a noble hero, he saw someone desperately fighting herself, and nearly loosing. A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Assured that Minerva
and Remus would keep everything together, he strode rapidly down the path back to Hogwarts.

Draco stood for a few minutes watching the scene in down the street. The bystanders began to move again, and McGonagall had reached Willow's
side. He couldn't hear what she said, but Willow shook her head. He hefted the weight of his pack in his hands and his face broke out into a very
wolfish grin. A long time ago, when Draco was very small, his father and mother had taken him to the races. Sitting on Lucius's knee, Draco was
asked to pick the winner. He pointed to a particularly beautiful silver stallion, the same color as Draco's eyes.

Standing now in the shade of a garishly colored candy store, he thought back on that early lesson. Now, now Father, the rules have changed. And
you may be surprised at the outcome. He watched Willow being led back into the tavern and had to admit for the first time that he was just a little
bit in love. Shaking his head, he hummed as he started back to school.

Willow accepted the mug of butter beer with slightly shaking hands. The tavern was quietly rumbling with fevered talk and the group from lunch
was crowded close around her. Pushing past the boys, Hermione threw herself at Willow in a massive hug.

Sensing her distress, Minerva shooed the others away saying, "You'll all have an opportunity to talk to Willow later. I think it would be best to give
her a little space now, don't you think?" Reluctantly the crowd dispersed to other tables, but Willow could still feel their eyes.

"You did a very brave thing, child. I don't know what's bothering you so much, but rest assured, you did more than anyone could have asked, especially so rapidly." She patted the back of Willow's hand. "I am proud of you, dear. There's to be no doubt about that. You look tired. I'm sure
you'll want some rest before the big dance tonight. And rest assured that everyone will know about this afternoon by then. You probably won't
get a minute to yourself."

Willow had to smile at that. She was fairly sure she hadn't done anything illegal; she'd used no unforgivables and hadn't harmed the attackers.
Well, it's nice to have some recognition for once. I'll take a nice long bath when I get back. That should do the trick. Taking a deep breath she stood.

"That's the spirit. Come, I'll walk back with you. Leave Remus here to deal with the children and the questions." She pulled the werewolf aside as they headed out of the door. "Remus, Willow and I are going to walk back to the school. If anyone starts asking questions, try to head them off. As for the wand, encourage them to think they just over looked it in the excitement."

The Great Hall was decked out in its usual Halloween splendor. Giant pumpkins, large enough to stand in, were hollowed out and lined with candles. The floating candles that normally adorned the ceiling were black and trailing streamers of orange, gold and black. The house elves charmed several shadows to prowl around like black cats and Hagrid had brought in a collection of fruit bats and set them loose.

At the far end of the hall was a stage full of instruments both convention and… slightly unusual. The band members were loitering by the punch bowl, liberally spiking their punch before ascending the stage. No students had arrived yet, but the teachers all gathered by the head table.

"Everyone all ready for this?" Minerva asked. The teachers responded with various levels of excitement. Remus Lupin was fairly bouncing, though part of that was due to the arrival of Sirius Black. The old friends were delighted to have some time to chat once Sirius had ascertained that Harry hadn't been any sort of target that morning. The other teachers fell down the scale of anticipation ending with Severus Snape. Poor Severus looked miserable, but Minerva suspected that it had something to do with the events in Hogsmeade rather than the dance. He'd never liked chaperoning them, but he'd never been this jumpy. He stared at the doorway like it was going to bite him and paced back and forth.

"Poppy, I believe we covered this already. Miss Rosenberg stated that once she destroyed their wands she apparated them somewhere it would be very difficult to come back from on their own. They would have to be located by whoever sent them and manually collected." She did not add that she didn't really understand Willow's rather cryptic statement of "Mall of the Americas" though she gathered it was someplace unpleasant. The gossip quieted down as the first of the younger children filtered in as herds of non-mingling boys and girls.

Gradually, the older students began to arrive. Entering from different doors, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus and their dates headed for the dance floor opposite Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Millicent. Their dresses and robes were much more complicated and intricate than the younger set. Some were beautiful, though some, like Millicent's swirling neon pink puffball, were in questionable taste. The music was loud, but varied, and everyone found something they wished to dance to. A black clad Draco lurked near the wall. His robes were of a much more severe cut than the other students and were trimmed with a platinum border. He surveyed the crowd with distain and helped himself to punch, sighing as he spiked his cup from an elegant silver hip flask, glaring at Madame Sprout as she made a motion in his direction. She decided he wasn't hurting anything and left him alone.
Remus walked over to his friend and handed him a glass. "Here you go, Sirius. How're you holding up?"

"Well, you'll see for yourself in a moment. She is… unique and potentially very valuable to our cause if we work with her right. She gives Severus the wiggins though. Never could figure out why. Pretty girl," he added as an afterthought. His friend snorted. "Fine, disagree if you will, but you should look for yourself." He waved a hand to the doorway where Willow stood framed in backlight from the hallway.

Her hair hung loose and smooth, cascading to just around her shoulders. The deep forest green of her robes appeared almost black in the low light. She fidgeted with her fingers before moving more fully into the hall. The robes were two layered, the under layer a lighter green than the top and made of a slightly shiny material. The upper layer was of smooth napped velvet and clung close to her curves. It was fitted through the sleeves and had a low sweetheart neckline and high collar. She scanned the room for familiar figures and broke out into a smile when she saw Remus leaning against the table. She walked swiftly over and accepted a glass of punch.

"Well, Willow, It's nice to meet you as well. I can honestly say how glad I am you were visiting Hogsmeade today. In case you didn't know, I'm Harry's godfather, and anything to do with Death Eaters makes me nervous." He smiled a winning smile as he took her hand. "And as such, will you do me the honor a dance?" Willow blushed but nodded and he led her out to the dance floor.

Harry grinned and waved as he pointed out the dancing couple to his friends. The music was upbeat and brisk and in no time, Willow was giggling breathlessly. She was almost sorry when the dance came to an end, but she was whirled off into Harry's arms before she could object. While not as adept as his godfather, Harry's enthusiasm was contagious. He managed not to step on her feet as he twirled her around. Gasping for air, she begged off of the next dance and returned to the head table.

"Well, this isn't too exact. I just have to keep my feet out of the way." She looked out at the tumultuous crowd and a dark shape by the doorway caught her attention. Snape was regarding her much like a cobra looks at a mongoose and she shivered slightly. "Is this the sort of music you usually play at these dances? I always thought it would be sort of… weirder. Or at least that's what the books said. This is so… modern, for lack of a better word."

"Well, we do have a traditional Halloween dance that is quite complicated but that comes at midnight. I suppose that gives people enough time to relax enough to want to try their hand, or feet, at it. Not many know how to do it these days, but some of the teachers, and definitely the ghosts, want to participate. I used to love to dance…" she trailed off. Willow smiled sympathetically, reminded that others had lost people close to them as well. Until that moment, she was shocked to realize that she hadn't thought of Tara all night.

"That would be a huge no. Not at all. To be honest, I'm only out here cause Hermione threatened to break my broom." He gave a woeful look in his girlfriend's direction. Seeing no sympathy there, he sighed. "No chance you'd want to lead then?"

Willow smiled sadly, "No Ron, I don't mind at all. I'm used to leading." She careful coached his hands into a more comfortable position and gently rocked them around in the typical young person's 'circle' dance that mostly consisted of trying not to tread on each other's toes while checking out the other people on the dance floor. To her surprise, she didn't see Draco's familiar white hair. "Uh, Ron, not that you'd know, but where's Draco?"

Willow craned her head in an attempt to casually look around. Guiding Ron so his back was to the wall, her eyes met Draco's and to her surprise he winked back at her before moving further down the wall into a darker corner. Well. Maybe he is planning something then. The musical number ended and she and Ron walked back to a waiting Hermione.

"Well, I see you managed not to step on her toes Ron." He blushed. "You look lovely tonight, Willow. Mom and Dad wanted to make sure that you knew that you were welcome to visit them at any time. Or, if the need arose, come to them for dentist stuff. They have this teeth thing, you understand."

Hermione nodded knowingly, but Ron looked back at her blankly. She added, "You probably don't have them in the wizarding world, or they aren't very common. Just trust me; I'm very glad my parents were dentists instead." He nodded, but still looked confused. Ron looked towards the clock at the head of the room.

Waving his hand to indicate the crowd, Ron said, "You know- the traditional Halloween screw-up? Where a bunch of people who have no idea how to dance try to replicate the Preatur Arabesque. It's hysterical. Though, it can be beautiful if you do it right. My mum says when she was at school here McGonagall and her husband used to put on a show. Some of the ghosts can do it right, but none of us kids ever learned." He grimaced. "Actually, I think Mum tried to teach us when we were little, but since she couldn't do it right and Dad has even less rhythm than I do; it was a colossal failure."

Remus wandered up. "I see you're checking the clock. Perhaps I could get that dance you promised me, Willow, before the witching hour. You can already see all the ghosts lining up at the walls. They get so excited." He extended his hand and led Willow to an empty space at the center of the floor. "I'm glad we got a chance to dance. You looked like you were having fun with Sirius and Harry earlier, though Ron could probably have used some help."

The leader of the band tapped on his microphone. "Ladies, gentlemen and gentleghosts. We are going to take a short break before getting on with the hit of the evening. So take a breather yourselves and grab some punch." He nodded at his band mates and they set their instruments down.

"That's a shame, it's quite nice." At the collected stares, he amended, "So I hear. I've never managed it myself. No patience." They relaxed back into their chairs and watched the band reassemble. When they were almost set, Willow jumped at touch at her elbow.

He placed one hand around her waist and the other grasped her hand firmly. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. I am a Malfoy; I learned how
to do this dance with my Mother when I was very young. And as for you- dancing is like magic. Just feel it flowing through your limbs. Relax and let it take you away." His voice had gotten softer and softer as he spoke until his lips nearly touched Willow's ear. She found herself melting into the words and embrace and only belatedly realized they were moving. Startled, she stiffened. "Shh," he whispered. "Just be here in the now. Let me guide you through the steps; don't think."

With a sense of detachment, she surrendered to the dance. She kept her eyes on Draco, noticing his robes, the smooth line of his hair as it fell down his shoulders, the angular set of his jaw, the icy chill of his eyes as he looked down into her face. Suddenly, the quiet part of her brain began to scream, too soon! Too soon! She gasped slightly and Draco arched one smooth eyebrow in response before spinning her out into a series of complicated turns.
When he recaptured her, he bent his head to hers again.

"Hmm, that must have been quite interesting. But I can think of something considerably more interesting, your little show this afternoon, for instance. I must say, that does answer some questions about your behavior in the greenhouse the other day."

Bending near, his voice was silky and deadly all at once. "Ah, ah. Little Firestarter, you are mine for at least this dance, perhaps longer if I have my say. I don't mean to startle you. In fact, I'd like to say how impressed I was. I don't think I've seen my father that upset in a long time. Congratulations."

Willow looked up and was surprised to discover his eyes were no longer hard and glacial. They were open and almost vulnerable and she found herself leaning closer to the warm length of his side.

Without warning, he separated them and guided Willow through a set of complicated steps. She found if she continued to look at his face, she paid no attention to where her feet were leading her. She could vaguely sense the crowd had receded to leave a space around them, but it was of no consequence. Her heart was thumping, and the tips of her fingers were tingling where she touched Draco. The pair seemed to float along the steps of the dance in their own world.

He led them back together for the final turns of the dance. "See how well you dance, Firestarter? I knew you'd be perfect since the moment I saw you." He drew her near again. He sighed. "I never wanted to alarm you. You do believe me?"

Draco grinned outwardly at that remark. "Perhaps not. And perhaps it is deserved, but that doesn't change how I… never mind." He directed his attention to making sure the ending to the dance was perfect. The last few steps were executed in silence until he and Willow stood side by side as the music died.

When Willow came to her senses, she saw that she and Draco were alone in the middle of a vacant dance floor. The entire rest of the Hogwarts population lined the floor and were clapping. Her eyes widened in surprise. Draco smiled a bit lopsidedly and he indicated they should bow. "It's nice to show them how it's supposed to be done, isn't it?" With that parting comment, he raised Willow's hand to his lips. Meeting his eyes over her hand, Willow inhaled sharply at the intensity she saw lurking behind the silver irises. Then he was gone. She found herself surrounded by thoroughly impressed friends.

She worked her way out of the crowd of well wishers, trying to find the object of her search. She couldn't see him anywhere so she headed out the main doors. She turned to head outside but was arrested by a light touch on her arm and softly hissed words.

"Going somewhere Miss Rosenberg? And after such an amusing display…" She wheeled around to face Severus Snape, his eyes glowing darkly as he pulled her down the hallway towards the less frequented area of the castle.

Next Chapters