by Lisette: Lisette_an@hotmail.com

Legalese: The television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters and material belong to Joss Whedon and UPN.  All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.  I claim ownership solely of the story idea - no profit will be made by this.

Author's Note: Thank you once more for your reviews!  A huge thank to Harry, Angel, Midnight, X-Lander (great suggestion!  Talk about comic relief!), solarphoenix, Empress, Harpy, and Saturn Maiden for taking the time out to drop me a line or two!  And sorry, but not hints Saturn Maiden!  However, this chapter should help you figure out who it isn't.  Ah yes... and here come some of the HP originals!  And please don't forget to drop me a line - it does make me post all the quicker! ;p

"A journey begins not with the first step, but with the desire to go where you have never gone."
-Anonymous-

    Absently, a slender hand lifted and brushed back an errant black strand of hair before tangling long fingers in the tousled mess, trying to flatten it even as it rebelled against the touch and continued to streak in every direction.  It was a hopeless battle, one that had been long-fought for the past seventeen years.  A battle that one Harry Potter was finally, and reluctantly, beginning to understand would never be won.  Just another quirk that went along with being The Boy Who Lived, a mere child who Lord Voldemort himself wanted nothing more than to Avada Kedavra right into the cold ground.

    Sighing, Harry pulled away from his dismal thoughts and allowed his bright green eyes to drift over to his two most faithful friends, keeping pace before him down the long and drafty halls of Hogwarts.  In the past few years Ron had continued his growth spurt, finally stopping a few months ago at a height that topped Percy by a few inches.  And even though Harry had finally found his own spurt a few years back, he still managed to fall a few inches below Ron's height - something that Ron never let him live down, especially when Hermione hit her own stride and soon matched his height.  Yet those few inches difference managed to add even more humor to the sight before him.  For, in a move that defined their relationship, both Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were currently sniping at each other, back and forth over some nonsensical argument that erupted earlier in the day during Professor Lupin's Potions lesson.  Harry, wisely, was staying as far away from the argument that he could.  After all, what did he care if it truly was Paligan root or Archid weed that went into the difficult potion?  In the end, he doubted that either Hermione nor Ron cared as well - it was more the fact that if they weren't fighting, then they were doing something else that just couldn't be properly done in public.

    Smiling at the thought, Harry hurried forward, catching up to his friends and sliding in between them.  "So who's up for a game of wizard's chess after dinner tonight?" he asked, waiting for the explosion that he knew his words would bring.

    "Oh no you don't," Hermione quickly uttered, a frown creasing her forehead as her hazel eyes nearly burned him with her gaze.  With a frustrated sigh she ran a hand through her long auburn tresses.  "You heard Professor McGonagall.  We need to be keeping up with our studies, no matter what is going on in the outside world.  We cannot let them slide just because-"

    "Aw, Hermione, give it a rest!" Ron quickly interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically at Harry.  "There are other things to the world than work, work, work," he grumbled good-naturedly as he gently reached out and ruffled her hair.  As she pulled away and glared up at him indignantly, Ron suppressed a small laugh, knowing it would only add fuel to the fire.  "'Sides, Bill said he'd take on the winner - no Gringotts tonight, he promised."

    Shaking his head, Harry slowly allowed himself to drop back from between his friends as a new argument blazed between them.  This one, at least, was a little more entertaining to watch.  The past few years had been surprisingly kind to them, when compared to what was happening in the rest of the wizarding world.  Oh, there were tragedies of course... one in particular, Harry realized, his thoughts turning dark before he forced them away.  But all in all, they were together, for the most part, at Hogwarts and taking each day as it came.  Sirius had been reluctantly cleared by the Ministry a few years back when Wormtail had been captured and put into Azkaban, thus proving what Harry had been saying for the last few years.  After that, it was only a matter of time before Fudge had been booted from the Ministry... an action that came too little, too late.  Speaking of which...

    "Hey Harry, ain't that Sirius?" Ron asked, interrupting his argument as he pointed to the tall figure that was slowly leaving the Infirmary a few yards ahead of them.

    Confused for a moment, Harry merely stared at his godfather's familiar figure before jogging forward, a wave of relief sweeping through his lean frame.  "Sirius!  Hey, Sirius!" he called out, unable to stop the large smile that lifted his lips as his godfather turned in time to nearly be bowled over by the teen.  "You're back!" he cried out, quickly straightening his thin, wire-rimmed glasses as his eyes swept over his godfather's lean frame.

    "Harry," Sirius greeted, quickly enveloping the boy in a tight hug before slowly pushing him back, his eyes assuring him, as he did each time he returned from one of Dumbledore's missions, that nothing had gone wrong while he was away.  Then, turning, he quickly nodded at the two other teens that had joined their little circle.  "Hello Ron, Hermione," he said, smiling softly before turning back to his beloved godson, ruffling his black hair gently.  "Where are you three off to?"

    "Dinner," Ron responded for the three, watching his best friend as he beamed from beside him.  Harry never really talked about it, but Ron knew that it frightened him above all else whenever Sirius would go away and leave the security of the castle behind.  Poor Harry himself hadn't been outside of Hogwarts' walls in the last three years.  Shortly after the Tri-Wizard tournament and You-Know-Who's resurrection, his friend had been returned to the horrid muggles that Harry was unfortunate enough to call relatives.  However, even though You-Know-Who couldn't reach Harry in the house, that didn't save the Dursleys from getting attacked and killed by Death Eaters while away from the unknown protection of their own home.  After that, it had quickly been decided that there would be no safe place for Harry Potter, no place safer, than within the walls of Hogwarts.  And so Harry had returned to Hogwarts, and had not left again.  It just wasn't safe for him, not with You-Know-Who back to full strength and craving Harry's blood.  "Mum's been really big on the family dinner thing," Ron added, rolling his eyes once again at his mother's antics.

    "Well, you'll have to send her my apologies, then," Sirius responded with a smile, his blue eyes twinkling.  "I'm off to see Remus myself - keep him company and make sure he stays out of trouble," he added with an apologetic frown at his godson.

    Sighing, Harry nodded quickly and forced a bright smile for the older man.  "Then we'll just have to catch up later," he said, his voice firm and betraying none of his disappointment.  "You're not.. you're not leaving again, not soon, are you?" he asked hesitantly, his green eyes troubled despite his best efforts.

    "I don't know, Harry," Sirius replied solemnly.  "I'm going to talk to Dumbledore tomorrow, and then we'll see.  Hagrid's not back yet, is he?"

    "No, we haven't seen him," Hermione responded, sending a sympathetic glance to her friend.  "But to be honest, we don't even know where he's gone to," she added, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gazed accusingly at the man.  "No one has told us anything," she continued, crossing her arms defiantly over her black robes.  "Like, for example, where you keep running off to."

    Smiling at the girl, Sirius ignored her pointed question and pulled Harry forward once more in a gruff embrace.  "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised before pulling away and starting off back towards the Gryffindor tower, they place they all now resided.  "And Hermione, you're too young to worry about stuff like this!" he called out over his shoulder, his eyes dancing as the girl stomped her foot angrily on the stone floor behind him.  "You should just worry about all that homework that I'm sure Remus has been piling on you guys!"  With that, the tall man quickly disappeared down the dark hall.

    Nearly growling in frustration, Hermione quickly spun away and nearly stormed down the halls, her robes flaring out around her slim figure as the boys rushed to keep up with her.  "If I hear someone tell me that I'll find out when I'm older one more time!" she stormed, eyes blazing.  Sighing, she finally slowed and then turned to glare at her friends.  "We're eighteen years old!" she cried, faltering as she sent Harry an apologetic look.  "Well, most of us are," she amended before quickly hurrying on.  "How much older do we need to get?  We're supposed to be graduating from Hogwarts in just a few months!"

    "'Mione, you know he's just saying that to get you all excited," Ron cut in gently as he tentatively reached a hand up and casually slung it over one of her shoulders.  "'Sides, you know Sirius can't keep a secret for too long.  We'll find out what's going on eventually."

    Sighing, Hermione slowly nodded her head as she sagged lightly against the taller boy.  "I know, you're right," she agreed before straightening and glaring at Harry.  "But your godfather has to be the most infuriating man I've ever met!"

    "Hasn't everyone been telling us that for years?" Harry countered with a small smile as the trio set off once again.  They were late and none of them wanted to be on the receiving end of Molly Weasley's wrath.

   Stepping through the open doorway and into the Great Hall beyond, Giles' felt his breath taken away by a scene that was so achingly familiar and different at the same time.  The Hall looked as it did during his wizarding days, with bright torches adorning the walls and four long tables spaced alongside each other in the large room.  Yet at the same time, it was so very different.  The room was still filled with people and the sounds of silverware ringing off of the china still fought to be heard over the din of conversation, yet the tone was all off.  This wasn't a Hall filled with close to three hundred young witches and wizards, all sorted into the four different houses of Hogwarts.  Instead, the room was filled with an odd assortment of witches and wizards of various ages, from the very young to the very, very old.  Families, he quickly realized, the weight of Samuel's words sitting heavier upon his shoulders.

    "So these are the people on Moldy-Wart's hit list?" Buffy asked, as though reading her watcher's mind as her eyes skipped over the room from her position beside him.  With a frown that mirrored his, she allowed her eyes to settle on a crooked old man and the small toddler that sat beside him at a nearby table.  According to Giles' friend, these families had to abandon their homes and come to Hogwarts in hopes of finding refuge and safety.  They had to give up all of their possessions, their houses, to find safety.  She could relate to losing everything.  To losing so much more.  At least they still had each other.  Somehow, together, they could make it through this.  It was when you lost everything, including those that sheltered and anchored you that the true problems began.  Things could be replaced.  People could not.

    Nodding slightly, Giles found that he couldn't speak over the lump that had formed in his throat.  It tore at him to see the state that his beloved world had fallen into.  And all because of one man.  Of one wizard.  Because of the dark arts that he himself had pursued in an act of rebellion against his father.  An act that resulted in the immediate death of one friend and the later deaths of the others in their group, leaving only he and Ethan untouched.  In the end, it was a foolish act that followed him and reached out, harming those he loved most.  Then, hearing a soft gasp beside him, Giles followed Buffy's eyes to the room's ceiling, enchanted to display the starry night outside the castle with the bright, full moon illuminating the large room.

    "Wicked," she murmured in appreciation, a small smile lifting her lips.

    "Mr. Giles!  Miss Summers!"

    Scanning the crowd, Giles felt his gaze settle on the far table, one that in days past had been home to those students sorted into the Gryffindor house.  To his amusement, he found one end of the table filled with a smattering of witches and wizards that bore the same startling red hair - two of which were immediately familiar - the older of the two waving them over.  Raising a hand in acknowledgement, Giles gently nudged his slayer forward, the two making their way around the edge of the room, all too aware of the curious looks they were attracting.

    "What's with all the clown dresses?" Buffy asked quietly as her eyes played over the long robes that everyone wore, noticing that she and Giles were the only ones without some kind of long, heavy robe - some in the most hideous and garish colors.  Even the men, especially the older ones, wore the lengths of cloth in addition to unstylish long locks.

    "Robes, Buffy, robes," Giles corrected automatically as he continued herding her towards the large table.  "People in the wizarding world follow a different fashion code, if you will, than our world," he explained, ignoring the odd looks that he and his Slayer were earning.  They really must look a sight, he in a comfortable pair of dark cords and a heavy sweater, and Buffy in a long-sleeve white cotton shirt and a pair of oversized blue jean pants that were secured by two straps over her shoulders, light blond hair trailing loosely over her small shoulders.  "They haven't, thankfully, been afflicted by your generation's need for outlandish garments-"

    "And you're calling my outfits outlandish?" Buffy interrupted as they passed a woman dressed in a particularly garish shade of orange with a strange, tall hat perched on top of her graying hair.  "Thanks, but no thanks," she muttered with a small frown, eying the strange garments critically.  "Pretty sure that those things wouldn't do a thing for my figure."

    Sighing, Giles merely shook his head as they neared the large table.  "It would have been expecting far too much of you to even entertain the idea of fitting in, wouldn't it?" he asked, realizing that despite his words, he wouldn't have it any other way.

    "Giles, I'm the only American in a world full of stuffy, tweed-wearing - or rather, robe-wearing - Brits.  How exactly did you expect me to fit in?" she asked, arching a slim eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the stares.  "And then there's that whole not a wizard, but not quite a muggle thing I got going on," she added, almost as an after thought as Giles finally stopped beside the table.  "I mean, can I have a pretty shiny something for being a magical creature?  Although not liking the whole creature bit," she added, trailing off as she took in the inhabitants of the table for the first time, blushing slightly as she realized the wizards eyed them curiously.

    "Mr. Giles, Miss Summers," Arthur Weasley greeted warmly as he stood from his seat beside Percy.  "We were beginning to worry that Professor Dumbledore would keep you all night," he added.

    "Oh, it's just Buffy," the small blond offered as her nose wrinkled at his formality.  "Anything else and I automatically think I'm in trouble," she added, green eyes twinkling as she elbowed her watcher beside her.  "And you can just call him Giles."

    At this, Giles merely sighed good naturedly and nodded his assent.  "I have gotten rather accustomed to it over the past few years," he admitted as his eyes skipped over the other people that occupied the table.

    Seeing his curious glance, the matronly witch across from Arthur quickly stood and smiled warmly at them.  "Please excuse my husband," she said, sending her husband a fierce glare.  "I'm afraid that his head isn't quite straight these days," she explained, her eyes sweeping over the two strangers.  The man was familiar, but his companion - well, she was definitely a beauty, probably about the same age as her Ron with bright green eyes, a tanned complexion, and pale blonde hair that trailed over her shoulders - although her clothes were strange, to say the least.  Not to mention how skinny she was.  Clucking her tongue at the thought, she quickly shook her head.  "My name is Molly Weasley," she continued, "and as the others have mentioned, you've already met Percy," she said, a small frown creasing her features as she gestured to the son that sat at the end of the table beside her husband.  He and Arthur had been terribly secretive about the strangers, saying only that they would have to hear it for themselves to believe what brought them to Hogwarts - and even then they may not believe it.  Whatever that meant. 

    Forcing a large smile, she quickly pushed past her questions, for it was terribly impolite to ask, and instead gestured to the tall, red-haired man that sat to her right, his long hair pulled back in a pony tail, a small silver earring dangling from one ear.  "This is my eldest son, Bill, Gryffindor class of '92," she introduced before gesturing to the slender redhead sitting on her other side and across from Percy, "and this is my daughter, Ginny, a sixth year here at Hogwarts," she added, the small redhead nodding politely.

    "A pleasure," Giles returned evenly, smiling softly from his position at the head of the table, Buffy shifting uncomfortably beside him.

    "Won't you join us?" Bill Weasley asked, smiling politely as he nodded to the open spaces across from his position.

    "Of course," Giles returned as he moved down the table, stepping over the bench and settling beside Arthur Weasley, Buffy settling on her watcher's other side.  And per Hogwarts' tradition, within seconds of taking his seat a shining plate appeared before him with the rest of his cutlery, a gleaming goblet filled with pumpkin juice and a steaming glass of tea alongside.

    "Who did that?" Buffy whispered, suspiciously eying the plate filled with a generous portion of roasted chicken and garlic potatoes.

    "The House Elves," Giles returned quietly, aware of the man's eyes upon them from opposite their position.  From his curious gaze, and the gazes of the others, he quickly realized that the others hadn't yet revealed their identities nor their purposes for being at Hogwarts.  Nodding at the young man, he watched as his slayer tentatively lifted her heavy goblet and sniffed at the liquid before quickly placing it back on the table, nose crinkled in disgust.  It would be amusing to see how long it took for the group to overcome the rigid British manners and ask the question that was obviously on everyone's mind.

    "So what do you do?" Molly finally asked, her warm hazel eyes betraying a sharp wisdom beneath her matronly exterior.  Even though Rupert Giles had graduated two years ahead of her at Hogwarts, there was no mistaking the man in her mind.  After all, with a little under three hundred students attending the school each year, close to 70 students per house, it was common to at least know each student by name by year end.  When added to the fact that Rupert Giles had been in the top of his class, and definitely top of Ravenclaw, it was assured that everyone had at least known the young man's name... which made it all the more shocking to the school and its students when shortly after his graduation, rumors of his dark dealings reached Hogwarts, followed by the Daily Prophet article that detailed his trial and subsequent banishment from the wizarding world.  Sharp eyes taking in the older man beside her husband, his green eyes still so intelligent while his appearance belied a long, labored life, Molly couldn't help but wonder what brought the man and his young companion to Hogwarts.

    "After graduation I worked as a curator in a muggle museum here in England before moving to the States four years ago," Giles returned innocently, feeling no need to go into details quite yet.  After all, he was so used to keeping his real profession a secret that it was more out of habit than anything else.

    "So you've lived with muggles then, all this time?" Arthur asked eagerly from beside Giles, his eyes practically shining.

    "Yes, yes I have," Giles agreed, sending Molly a puzzled glance.

    With a sigh, Molly slowly shook her head, a disapproving frown pulling at her lips.  "Arthur works for the Ministry of Magic in the office of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts."

    "Muggles have always been a sort of hobby for him," Bill added with a knowing wink at his family.

    Ignoring both his wife and son, Arthur focused on the man beside him, a grin stretching from ear to ear.  "I hope you don't mind my asking, but this has been something that has been plaguing me for months.  Tell me, what is the difference between a two-prong plug and a three?"

    For a moment, Giles merely stared at the man blankly before a slow smile lifted his lips.  It had been far too long since Giles had been given the opportunity to interact with adults his own age, despite the odd nature of the conversation.  But just as he was to answer, he noticed with a sigh that his slayer didn't seem to be sharing in his luck.  The only person who looked even remotely close to her age, the young Weasley girl, was currently seated on the other side of the table at its far end, leaving his slayer quite adrift.  Sighing, Giles felt a pang of pity for her, so obviously out of place in the hall, before he himself was swept up into conversation with the man beside him.

To be continued...