Harry Potter and the Chance for a New Life

Chapter One--The State of Things

Albus Dumbledore, the aged Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat in his office pensively sucking on a lemon drop, gazing into the hypnotizing flames of his often-used fireplace as he absently stroked the brilliant plumage of his phoenix, Fawkes. His melancholy thoughts were focused, as they had often been for the past sixteen years, on young Harry Potter, a wizard more powerful even than he and a boy he loved like the son he never had.

In the year and a half or so since his godfather's tragic death at the Department of Mysteries, Harry had achieved a great many things. Copiously using a time turner in secret, he had trained himself long and hard with one ultimate goal in mind: to defeat Voldemort. He had picked up a great many forbidden or incredibly difficult skills, and his constant training had pushed him to magical majority at an unusually young age, revealing him to have a veritable well of power waiting to be used. Even Dumbledore himself had little knowledge of how much Harry knew and was capable of doing. The defense group that he had formed in his fifth year, the DA, had continued in his sixth and now also seventh years, and the skills of every member in nearly all uses of magic had increased astonishingly. Neville Longbottom had proven himself to be quite an adept wizard, when given a proper wand and sufficient confidence, much to his teachers' shock and Harry's quiet pride.

Nevertheless, despite his growth as both a wizard and leader, Harry had done his best to distance himself from his friends for fear that they would be injured. Of course, Ron and Hermione had had none of that, and had only clung to him tighter the more he tried to pull away.

Ron and Hermione. The thought of those two names always brought mixed feelings to the old wizard. Of course, he was saddened by their deaths. They had been two of the finest students he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. However, he also felt an irrational anger towards the two whose deaths had nearly destroyed the one who was so close to his heart. Harry had not yet begun to recover from their loss, and Dumbledore feared that he never would.

And, of course, at the end of last school year, Harry had done what he had always been destined to do: he had defeated Voldemort, alone, in the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by jeering Death Eaters, after participating in and almost single-handedly winning an enormous battle on the grounds of Hogwarts, in which four students and nearly two hundred adults on the side of light had been killed. After his final duel with Voldemort, Harry most assuredly would have died, had Severus Snape not rushed him back to Hogwarts for immediate medical attention, not ready for his worst enemy's son to die just as he was beginning to see what an amazing person he was. Several weeks later, Harry had been back on his feet, his step sure with the confidence of youth, but his eyes haunted by all that he had experienced.

It was a true mark of how loved Harry was by all who knew him that they were more concerned by his obvious depression than gleeful at the final destruction of the most dangerous dark wizard in centuries.

He had not even bothered to protest when he was sent back to the Dursleys over the summer, and it was only Ginny Weasley's concern over his lack of correspondence that had caused Dumbledore to visit Harry at his summer residence and to discover just how completely he had failed Harry. The boy-who-lived, the twice-savior of the wizarding world, had been abused by his muggle relatives, apparently for as long as he had lived with them. It was a wonder that he had ever trusted any adults at all. It was a wonder that he no longer seemed to blame Albus for any of the many tragedies which had befallen him.

He had been rushed back to Hogwarts and treated for his various wounds and malnourishment, and then had been allowed to stay at the school for the remainder of the summer holidays, spending most of his days studying in the library or flying, an activity which had never ceased to inspire some joy in the otherwise miserable young man. His behavior had continued similarly into the new school year; although he was now more famous than ever, Harry avoided crowds at all costs. He attended his classes consistently but never volunteered to answer questions or demonstrate. His teachers couldn't really complain, since he passed all of his exams perfectly, having long since learned all the NEWT material. He left the teaching of the DA mostly to the other students, although whenever anyone needed help, he was always there to gently guide them.

Harry seemed to take no pleasure in life, and Dumbledore feared greatly for him.

Suddenly, the fireplace blazed green, surprising Dumbledore from his stupor. His cerulean eyes widened only slightly in surprise, a sign that the Headmaster was truly shocked, since he normally seemed imperturbable, at the sight of Rupert Giles' head in his fireplace.

He knew Rupert from several encounters some time ago, in which he had been acting in his capacity in the Wizenmagot. Rupert had been up on the charges of having summoning a rather nasty demon, a very dangerous form of dark arts. Dumbledore, who firmly believed that everyone deserved a second chance, had voted in favor of Rupert, and had afterward helped him secure a sort of internship position in the Watcher's Council, whose job it was to oversee the Vampire Slayer. The last he had heard from Rupert, he had risen to the prestigious position as Watcher for the Slayer three years ago.

Dumbledore smiled slightly at his old friend. "Rupert! It is good to see you, dear boy," he effused.

Giles smiled slightly in return. "Hello, Albus," he replied. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has. Three years, I do believe. Oh, forgive me my manners! Would you like a lemon drop?" he proffered the tin which held his self-replenishing supply of candies.

"I think not, Albus," Giles said. "Thanks anyway."

Dumbledore frowned briefly, since he found that conversations in which his visitors refused his lemon drops were invariably more serious and worrisome than those in which the sweets were consumed.

"I presume this is not a social call?" Dumbledore asked, looking closely at the other man over his half-moon glasses.

"I'm afraid not," Giles sighed. "You see, I need your help. You see..."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly as Giles explained the situation, and, for the first time in a long time, the smallest of twinkles began to form in his eyes. "I think I have the perfect wizard for your problem," he said, stroking his long white beard as he cemented his plans in his mind. Yes, this could be the very thing to get Harry back into the world of the living.

*********************

Seventeen year old Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater-of-You-Know-Who, Head Boy, and Order of Merlin, First Class, sat on top of the Astronomy Tower, his legs dangling fearlessly over the precipice. His faithful owl Hedwig rested on his shoulder, a comforting warmth in the cool Autumn breeze, and coiled tightly around his wrist was a brightly colored coral snake. His piercing emerald eyes stared vaguely out into the darkness of the night, seeming to focus on the dim outline of the Forbidden Forest, illuminated by starlight.

His senses, hyper-alert after all of his training, easily picked up the sound of someone approaching long before they actually arrived. He could tell by the sound of the footsteps and the swish of the robes that it was Snape intruding on his solitude, as always.

Usually, he respected the man for having had more than Gryffindor bravery for the past few decades, being a spy in Voldemort's ranks, a risk that even a foolhardy Gryffindor wouldn't take. Other times, like now, he hated the man for having saved his life.

"Potter," Snape spat his name with less vitriol than he had before Harry's sixth year. "Still believe yourself to be above the rules, do you? It's past curfew."

Harry smiled vaguely at this reminder of the encounters he had used to have with this man, in which he had always been filled with righteous anger at the man's baseless accusations and ruthless insults. Now, he felt little more than a disconnected sort of amusement.

"I'm Head Boy this year," he reminded the professor, unnecessarily. "I'm allowed out past curfew."

Snape sneered. "And what are you doing? I doubt you'll find any late-night rule breakers heading to the Forbidden Forest."

Harry closed his eyes briefly, as if in prayer. "No, I probably won't," he agreed quietly. It was true. After what had happened in the Forbidden Forest, even the most mischievous had given it the wide berth its name had always suggested. He sighed. "Was there something you wanted, Professor?"

In the past, Snape would have bristled at such an impertinent question. Now, though, it was his world-weary tone, not his words, which caught his attention and held his tongue.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you."

Harry inclined his head slightly to show that he had heard and understood the request, but stayed staring into the night for several more minutes before reluctantly standing. "Go on, Hedwig," he said to his friend, giving her a slight boost to help her fly off.

As he turned to walk away, Snape fell in beside him. Much as he often did, Snape found himself marveling at the predatory grace in Harry's stride. It gave him a sense of poise and authority, and Snape couldn't remember exactly when the previously unsure and shy boy had picked up the trick. They were silent for the duration of the short journey, except for a murmured "Sacrifice," from Snape to the stone gargoyles guarding the entranceway to Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore's already-melancholy face seemed to fall into even greater sadness when he saw Harry, as it always did at the sight of his pale, gaunt face and the deep purple bruises under his eyes. He mustered a small welcoming smile and gestured for them to sit down.

"How are you, Harry?" he asked kindly.

Harry blinked. "I'm fine," he responded reflexively. Snape gave a sort of choked laugh.

"How are your classes going?"

"They're fine." Hmph.

"And the DA?"

"It's fine." Cough.

There was a pause.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what is it you want of me, Professor?" Harry asked, his brilliant green eyes intently probing Dumbledore's blue ones.

Dumbledore frowned. How best to explain to Harry what was to be done. "Well, Harry, I can't help but feel that Hogwarts has not been helping you to recover from everything that happened last year," he began carefully.

A muscle in Harry's jaw visibly clenched. "I'm fine," he insisted. Snape snorted.

"Professor Snape is correct, I'm sorry to say, Harry," Dumbledore gently argued. "It pains me to see you this unhappy, my dear boy."

Harry stared at him for a long moment in disbelief. Finally, he closed his eyes and tilted back his head. An animalistic choking noise escaped his throat, and it appeared for a moment that he was going to burst out laughing. He took several deep breaths, and when he opened his eyes again they were brimming with more emotions than Dumbledore had seen from them in a long time.

"What do you want from me?" Harry demanded. "I've done my duty, don't you see! I've fulfilled my purpose, I've killed Voldemort, I've been your weapon. I've given you everything that I had. Everything! I don't regret it, Professor. We all did what we had to do. I'm content enough. Don't you dare take that away from me with your false platitudes and your useless questions."

Dumbledore recoiled from Harry's tirade as if he had been struck. Was that truly what Harry thought? That he was only Dumbledore's tool, so easily discarded once he had been used?

"Harry," he said sadly, "you cannot truly believe that. There are so many people who care about you: just Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Defeater-of-Voldemort, or whatever else the rest of the world is calling you."

Harry glared at him coldly. "All of the people who have loved me have died for me," he hissed. "There is no one left."

Here, Snape could no longer restrain himself. "You could not possibly be so blind!" he exclaimed. "Of course there are people who care about you, you foolish brat. What about the Weasleys, who practically adopted you? What about Longbottom and the rest of your blasted DA? What about Lupin? Your teachers? Do you think yourself so much above them that they are nothing next to your pigheaded greatness?"

"Severus..." Albus murmured reprovingly. It was, after all, his fault that Harry had such low self-esteem.

Nevertheless, Harry's reaction to the verbal assault was telling. He breathed deeply several times as if trying to restrain himself from some kind of outburst. Through gritted teeth, he repeated, "I ask again, what do you want from me? I think I'm entitled to a life of misery, if that's what I choose."

"Perhaps you do, at that," Dumbledore acknowledged sadly. He could deny Harry nothing. "However, I would like to see if we could give you another chance at a better life, if you are willing." Harry did not respond affirmatively or negatively, simply looked at him with the blank gaze to which he had become so accustomed, so he plowed on. "I have a friend who lives in California, the current Watcher of the Slayer Buffy Summers. They are currently experiencing some apocalyptic activity, and have requested that I send a wizard of above-average power to help them. I think that spending some time in a different environment might be good for you."

Harry stared at his Headmaster incredulously. "You want to send me to fight another war? Your good little soldier-puppet who marches to whatever tune you play? God!" He pressed both hands firmly on either side of his head, as if trying to force out his errant thoughts. "You have me so very well-trained. It must have been a carefully planned formula, to instill me with just the right amount of obedience, a large dose of need to do the right thing, and a fair helping of brainless bravery." He laughed mockingly. "Well-done, Professor," he said. "Truly, a bloody capital job. Of course I'll go. Wherever I'm needed, there I'll be, right? Boy-Who-Lived to the rescue and all that?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice pained, "I'm not trying to use you as a toy or puppet as you seem to think. I imagine an auror could handle this job just fine. I would, however, prefer that you go, since I hope this experience might be beneficial for you."

"Whatever," Harry said, clearly not believing a word he said. "I already said I'd go. When do I leave?"

"You'll leave tomorrow morning, at 10 o'clock. However, there is also the matter of a chaperone." Harry stared at him as if not believing what he was hearing. "Now, I know that you can take care of yourself, Harry, but school rules insist that an adult accompany you on any trips you take off Hogwarts grounds. I've chosen Professor Snape to be your guardian. I'm sure you'll get on smashingly."

Harry just looked at him for another long moment, while Snape looked surprised and a bit upset. Eventually, Harry nodded resignedly. "Fine," he said. "Are we apparating?"

Both the older wizards looked surprised by this question. "Apparating across an ocean, Potter?" Snape sneered. "Impossible!"

He blinked. "I've done it before."

The professors were speechless for a moment absorbing this information before Dumbledore decided to end the decidedly awkward silence. After all, it was hardly the most exceptional thing Harry had ever done. "Fawkes will transport you and Professor Snape. You should pack for an extended stay."

"Of course," Harry said coldly, rising to his feet. He gave them a perfunctory nod before spinning on his heels and leaving the office.

After he had left, Snape turned to face his employer, confusion evident on his face. "Why on earth are you sending me along as Potter's chaperone? No one would ever complain if you broke this school rule for him, and it's hardly as though I could protect him from anything. And what about my classes?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Endorsing the breaking of a rule for a student, Severus? Tsk tsk," he said teasingly. Seeing the serious expression on his Potion Master's face, his brief moment of levity fled. "To answer the second question first, I will cover your classes for you while you're gone. You may have forgotten, but I was quite skilled at Potions, once." Snape snorted again at that understatement. After all, Dumbledore was well-known for having discovered the twelve uses for dragon's blood. "As to your role as a chaperone, I don't expect you to do much to protect him in a combat situation, Severus," he confessed. "We both know that Harry's proven himself time and again. I'm sending you along for one reason only."

"And what's that?"

Dumbledore sighed for what he was sure was the hundredth time that day, and looked away from his friend's obsidian gaze. "Bring him home, Severus," he confessed quietly. "For I fear that, if given the choice, Harry will decide to leave this place or this earth altogether."

********************

Harry finished packing his trunk within minutes of having started. He looked at the faithful trunk which he had had ever since his first year at Hogwarts; inside it were the few possessions which he had gathered over the years: his trusty Firebolt, no longer the fastest broom on the market, his album with photographs of his parents and Sirius, and his invisibility cloak. Around his neck he wore, as always, a beautiful gold locket, which when opened held a miniature picture of Ron on one side and Hermione on the other. They had worn similar lockets with pictures of him. Oh, how he missed them.

He placed the Sword of Gryffindor in its sheath across his back, then secured one of Slytherin's Daggers at his belt, putting the other in his shoe. His trusty wand-holster, impervious to most hexes and charms, was tightly attached to his right wrist. He knew that he gave off a rather martial appearance, but he had long since given up any care for propriety in exchange for practicality.

He hoisted the trunk easily, not bothering to use magic to make it lighter. He looked one last time around the large, nicely furnished Head Boy room he had been given, with its now-bare walls and a simple bed he had transfigured from an overly-luxurious one. This place had never been home for him.

He had given Hedwig two letters to deliver for him in his absence. One was a letter to Neville instructing him to take over the DA as its leader. The other was a letter to Ginny and by extension to the entire Weasley clan, once again blaming himself for the death of their youngest son and apologizing profusely while admitting that he could never be forgiven. No such letter had been sent to Hermione's family, since her only living relatives, her parents, had died only hours after she, tortured to death by Voldemort in a gruesome episode which Harry had been forced to watch in its entirety via his scar.

He shook his head forcefully in a fruitless attempt to rid his mind of these thoughts. Perhaps Dumbledore was right; perhaps leaving Hogwarts and going someplace different for a time would help him.

He took a detour on his way to the Headmaster's office, stopping at Professor McGonagall's office. He knocked politely and listened for her muffled greeting before entering.

"Mr. Potter," she said, sounding unsurprised.

"Good morning, Professor," he said. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has informed you that I'll be leaving on a trip of uncertain duration today. I was wondering how I should plan on keeping up with my studies while I'm gone."

McGonagall looked closely at him for a long moment, obviously taking in the sad sight of his bedraggled state. Although she had never been particularly close to Harry--she endeavored to keep a professional distance from all her students--she took her duties as Head of House very seriously. For that reason, she was incredibly proud of the young man in front of her for all that he had achieved. For that reason also, it had pained her to see how poorly Harry was coping with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat. While she wasn't sure that she agreed with Albus that sending him to another country to fight vampires would help Harry, she knew that something had to be done, and she was willing to agree to drastic measures, if necessary.

"Tell me, Potter," she said, her strict features softened by the slightest of smiles, "Just how far along in the NEWT studies are you?"

He shrugged. "Fairly well along, I suppose," he answered noncommittally.

She pointed at her desk. "Could you conjure a desk like mine?" she asked. At his nod, she ordered, "Then do so."

He lifted his wand gracefully, and with a murmured incantation and a flick of his wrist, a second, identical desk appeared, complete with the documents which were strewn on the original and the topaz tabby figurine which she had picked up whilst traveling years ago.

She nodded thoughtfully, not appearing at all impressed by the extraordinary feat. "Now vanish it." He did so. "Mr. Potter, have you ever brewed the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus Lupin?"

He nodded warily. "Once, last year, when Professor Snape was in the Hospital Wing."

She picked up a crystal ball from one of her shelves, and held it out towards him. "Look into the crystal ball and tell me the future, Potter."

He took it from her, a perplexed expression on his face, and looked into the ball for only the briefest of moments before saying, "This is complete bollocks, Professor. Unless you want me to predict my death like I always do in Trelawney's class, I don't know what to say."

She smiled faintly. "While I would prefer that you use language suitable in a school, I agree completely. Well, Mr. Potter, I think that we both know that you could take your NEWTs right now and pass all of them with flying colors, save perhaps Divination." He inclined his head in silent agreement. "Well, then," she said briskly, "I hardly think we need to burden you with unnecessary work while you are gone. Just try to keep in practice, won't you, and we can cover anything you might have missed when you return."

"Thank you, Professor," he said. He turned to leave, and was almost out the door when he heard her voice calling his name. He turned back.

"Do try to have some fun," she told him. He looked at her for another long moment before he strode away, letting the door close behind him with a gentle click.

**************

Harry and Snape arrived at the gargoyles at exactly the same moment, precisely on time. Harry noticed that Snape didn't appear to be carrying a trunk, and guessed that he must have shrunk it and put it in one of the pockets in his voluminous robes.

"Sacrifice," Harry whispered, his voice breaking on the word. They ascended the moving stairs to the office.

"Severus! Harry!" Dumbledore said jovially in greeting. "Just on time, as always, I see. Now, remember, Fawkes will take you where you need to go; you're looking for a Mr. Rupert Giles. I wish you luck, dear boys."

Fawkes flew over and landed on Harry's shoulder, sending a peaceful feeling of warmth throughout his body. He reached up to pet the lovely fire-bird once, and Fawkes trilled in response, a beautiful sound that he could never tire of hearing.

Then the two men, bird, and trunk disappeared in a flash of bright light. It was only after the light had completely dissipated that Dumbledore allowed his fake smile to fall from his face, the familiar look of sadness overcoming his aged features. "Come back to me soon, my son," he murmured, but there was no one to hear his words.

***************

Chapter Two: Welcome to Sunnyhell

Unlike travel by portkey, travel by phoenix fire caused no nausea or disorientation. Instead, one moment you were one place, the next you were somewhere else. So it was that in a blink of an eye, Harry and Snape found themselves transported from the cheery interior of Albus Dumbledore's office to a dark hallway in what appeared to be a somewhat bedraggled public high school. Fawkes gave them a single chirp of reassurance before disappearing back to England.

They stood for a moment in silence before Harry ventured the question, "Did you know we were going to be dumped in a school?"

Snape just sneered.

Harry sighed. "Let's just find our host, shall we? Fawkes wouldn't have left us too far from where we're supposed to be." He stopped to shrink his trunk and leave it in his pocket, not wanting to bother with dragging it around. He stood still for a long moment, head cocked to one side and six senses (including magical sense) straining for some indication of where to go. Finally, he turned to go down one hallway. "There're voices coming from this direction," he informed his so-far-useless companion before he strode in the direction he had indicated.

After several twists and turns--Harry found American high schools almost more impossible to navigate than Hogwarts with all her changing staircases and fake doors--they found themselves directly outside of what appeared to be a library, from which several voices were being raised in contention.

"I don't see why we need another stuffy Brit to come do our work for us," complained a young female voice.

"Yeah! The Scooby Gang has been doing just fine on its own in the past few years," a male voice agreed.

"I don't know...I'm rather excited about meeting someone who can actually do magic whenever he wants," a more timid female inserted.

"Meeting some kind of mumbo-jumbo user is one thing, Will," the first voice argued. "But that doesn't mean that we have to work with him. Let's just tell him to go home...if he ever actually gets here, that is. What do you think, Oz?"

A monotone voice responded, "I have to agree with the redhead. I'd be interested to see what a wizard could do."

An aggrieved, thankfully British, male voice stated tiredly, "We are not just going to send him back to England after coming all this way to help us, Buffy. Loathe as you may be to admit it, we may need help against this demon. An old friend of mine is sending this wizard to help us, and I trust Albus Dumbledore's judgment implicitly. Maybe you'll even like whoever they send."

There was a hmphing noise, before the leader of the teenagers said sullenly, "Fine. But I'm not promising to be nice to another tweed-clad old guy who has an obsession with tweed."

At that, Harry found himself doing something he hadn't done since Ron and Hermione's death--struggling to hold back genuine laughter. A strangled noise escaped his throat, and as Snape turned to glare at him they both heard the ominous sound of complete silence from the other side of the door.

"Looks like we've been found out," Harry drawled with an amused smile. He gestured toward the swinging doors. "Why don't you impress them with your dramatic entrance?" he suggested.

Snape scowled, but complied, and if he hadn't know better, Harry would have thought that he saw a glimmer of mischief in his teacher's eyes. The professor strode forth, flinging the doors open with an impressive bang! and he strode through the now-open doors with the bat-like swirling of his robes for which he was infamous.

And promptly threw up a shielding spell as a crossbow bolt and two knives came flying at him, deflecting them to either side of him.

Harry wished he could see the faces of the kids on the other side of the door, since he judged by the silence on the other side that they were rather shocked by both Snape's sudden appearance and the apparent ease with which he had rendered their weapons useless.

Finally, the main girl's voice broke the silence. "Uh, guys? My spidey sense isn't tingling. I don't think that's a vampire."

Giles' voice came floating out with an embarrassed, "Oh, dear..."

Harry could hear the sneer in Snape's voice as he coldly informed them, "I am Professor Severus Snape, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You did request a wizard, did you not?"

****************

Buffy was feeling a bit embarrassed. Just a bit. But, really, why should she? What kind of idiot just barges through a door in a school in the middle of the night, anyways? One who's looking to be impaled, that's what kind of person. Besides, he was certainly doing a very good vampire impression, and those robes? So never in fashion. It was entirely his fault that she had assaulted him.

Of course, it was even more embarrassing that he had so easily deflected her crossbow. Magic was creepy, if you asked her. Give her a stake and a vampire and some good ol' fashioned martial arts any day.

This--this--creep was supposed them avert Apocalypse number 3?! This was way worse than a tweed-clad tea addict! She could tell by the disgusted looks on her friends' faces that they felt the same.

She noticed that even Giles was having difficulty concealing his shock. Maybe we'll even like him indeed, she thought spitefully. Ha!

"Er...well...uh, welcome, Professor Snape. We're glad to have your help against the demon--"

"I care nothing for your ridiculous demon," Mr. Ugly said. "Please have the decency not to bore me with your tales of woe." Buffy found a rather forbidding frown forming on her face. No one interrupted Giles but her! And, "their ridiculous demon"? Did he know how many times she had saved his sorry British arse from a fate worse than death?

Giles blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Why exactly are you here, then?"

Snape gave a slow, rather evil smile, and Buffy suddenly had the feeling that the joke was on them. "I'm here to take care of him," he replied, jerking his thumb back to point behind him at a young, thin boy who had probably been there all along but who they had failed to notice in their preoccupation with the older (way uglier) wizard.

She used her Slayer skills to give the boy an ultra-fast once-over.

Well. This one certainly had potential.

He looked about the same age as her, though he was only slightly taller than her admittedly petite height. He was too thin, and his physique looked a bit fragile, but his face was handsomely shaped, brilliant, serious emerald green eyes making up for the gauntness of his face. His black hair was utterly wild, a style that seemed lame on many boys who tried to do it to look cool, but which looked perfectly natural framing this one's features. Cordelia would be drooling if she were to see him. Despite his apparent fragility, he comfortably wore a sword across his back and a dagger at his hip with an ease that suggested many hours of practice. Definitely a hottie.

She shook herself. It was all well and good for him to be cute, but did this little kid actually think he could help her save the world? Willow and Xander already provided all the sidekick support she needed, without adding another basically skill-less one to the mix.

Giles was frowning in thought, and Buffy thought that he was probably trying to decide which of the two wizards were worse.

Xander summed up her thoughts when he asked, "Kinda short, isn't he?" He reflexively cringed back a bit when the boy's haunted gaze made contact with his own.

"Fortunately for the fate of the world, your opinion of me based on my size matters not a whit," he said coolly. He approached Giles, moving with predatory grace, and extended his hand. "Harry Potter," he said curtly.

Buffy watched with interest as Giles and Willow reacted to this bit of news. Giles' eyes widened in shock as he stared at the extended hand for a long time, apparently unable to move, before his gaze moved up to the boy's forehead and the tousled black hair which covered it. Harry gave a small, unhappy sigh before using his other hand to brush the errant hair off his forehead, revealing a scar peculiarly shaped like a lightning bolt.

When the scar was revealed, Willow said, "Oh my God," and began taking deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

Giles still hadn't taken the boy's hand, and Buffy's Slayer instincts came to the fore, deciding that he must be an enemy who had frightened Giles and Willow into a stupor.

She quickly drew a stake before pouncing at him, intending to have him fully at her mercy before he even knew what was happening. To her horror, before she could even move to attack him she felt her limbs become completely stiff as if held by an invisible force, leaving her completely unable to move.

Giles blinked and seemed to come out of his disorientation when he saw that his slayer had been hit by a petrificus totalus. "What...?" he asked, looking at the boy--dear god, Harry Potter in the flesh!--in confusion.

"Your slayer was about to attack me," Potter said wryly. "I apologize, but I rather like having my heart in one piece, and not skewered on a piece of wood by a girl whom I came here to help."

"Oh! Er...well, will you release her now, please?" Giles was a bit worried, as Xander seemed quite incensed by what had just happened, and looked as though he were about to try a frontal attack to defend her.

"Perhaps after you explain to her that I'm not an enemy, and why exactly you reacted to my name the way you did," Harry demurred.

"Capital idea," Giles agreed before turning to his very angry, still frozen slayer. "I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression, Buffy," he said. "I was just so shocked to find myself suddenly in the presence of Harry Potter..." He got a rather goofy grin on his face. "I mean, Harry Potter, it's simply amazing..." Although she wasn't able to move any of her facial muscles, Buffy's glare somehow became much angrier as Giles rambled. "Oh, right, sorry. Willow! You know what I'm talking about, why don't you explain!"

Willow blinked at being put on the spot, paling a little under the sudden scrutiny of everyone in the room, including the famous Harry Potter.

"Uh...uh...Well, Mr. Potter--"

"Just Harry, please," Harry sighed. "Look, I'll tell her, alright? It's no big deal really; a while back I defeated this powerful dark wizard who'd been terrorizing me and the people I cared about for years, and now everyone's temporarily in awe. I'm just a normal wizard, though, really. Finite Incantem."

Snape made a disgruntled sound at that claim, along with what sounded like a muttered, "And I thought he was arrogant!"

Buffy experimentally moved her arms and legs before settling the full force of the Buffy glare at the boy. "I don't care if you're the Prime Minister of England!" she snarled. "Never do that to me again!"

"Actually, Buffy," Giles tentatively interjected. "It's more like having someone of substantially more importance than the President come to visit. I'd almost think you could consider it an honor that he hexed you."

Harry growled, "It most certainly is not an honor! And I'm really not that important!" Giles and Willow looked unconvinced. He sighed. "Look, if we're going to be working together, we need to make a few things clear. First, I absolutely despise hero-worship. I want to be treated just like everyone else. Second, I don't take well to attacks--I've trained myself to respond lethally to them. If you do attempt to injure me, I don't know if I can stop myself from seriously harming you."

"Whatever." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Giles, I'm going to go patrolling. You can deal with Nancy-boy here."

"Actually," Harry interjected, "I'll accompany you. I will need to see how you work and what kind of enemies you face here in Sunnydale."

Her eyes widened in outrage. "There's no way I'm letting you come with! I can't be bothered to take care of you."

Snape cut in, "Mr. Potter is quite capable of taking care of himself against any manner of dark creatures, Ms. Summers. I rather think it would be you slowing him down."

"Yeah?" she asked disbelievingly. "How many vamps has he slain?" She smirked in anticipation at being able to show the kid that he wasn't nearly as cool as he thought.

Snape shot a glance at Harry, and, seeing that his jaw was clenched and he was clearly not intending to answer, answered for him: "I believe that last year he wiped out ninety percent of the vampires in the U.K. with a single, one-use spell which he designed," he said in his silky voice.

Buffy gaped.

"Professor," Harry said in a warning tone.

"Of course, that was only after he led an army of children against a werewolf attack, and emerged victorious with only two children dead and one infected."

Willow flinched, and her eyes darted to her boyfriend, Oz, who was a werewolf and was always afraid that he would injure someone while in his animalistic state.

"Snape," Harry said angrily.

"And then after he killed those vampires, he faced the most powerful dark wizard ever to live in a duel and won."

"That's enough, Severus," Harry snarled, the menace in his voice not hidden, and the antipathy in his eyes blatant. "You have never been one to sing my praises before, and I'll not allow you to use them now as an attack against someone whose ignorance is justified. Ms. Summers, I apologize for my chaperone. Now, I will accompany you on your patrol tonight, and perhaps we can take each other's measure in actual combat situations, rather than relying upon rumors and hearsay, hmmm?"

"Fine," she said, a bit dazed as she tried to absorb this new information.

She shot a pleading glance at her friends, and they immediately volunteered, "We'll go, too!"

"Professor Snape, Mr. Giles, I trust that you can work out the living arrangements?"

"Of course," Giles said.

"Then I shall bid you good night. Perhaps we can discuss this situation in which we find ourselves when we have all had time to absorb the circumstances."

With a swish of robes that did Snape proud, he spun and left the library, leaving Buffy and co. to stare after him for a moment before grunting in annoyance and following after him.

After the group had left, Giles sank heavily onto a chair, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt in a nervous gesture. "Well. Harry Potter."

Snape frowned severely. "Mr. Giles, I think it is my duty as Mr. Potter's chaperone to inform you that the behavior of both yourself and your charges today was reprehensible. We are here as a favor to you, and Mr. Potter is not a spectacle to be goggled at because of your puerile amazement. If an episode like the one that just happens occurs again, we will return to England, and Albus Dumbledore will not hold it against us."

"Professor Dumbledore promised to help us," Giles protested weakly. "He is fond of me."

Snape smiled, and it was a frightening sight. "Professor Dumbledore is fond of me, as well," he said. "However, he is more than fond of Harry Potter, and if you harm that boy in any way--physical or emotional--you will bring his wrath down on your head."

"I apologize," Giles said heavily. "And not because of your threat. I know that my actions were incredibly rude. The lad must have had a terrible life thus far, and it was cruel of me to add to his burdens. It won't happen again."

Snape stiffened a bit at Giles' words, uncomfortably reminded of his own previous behavior towards James Potter's son. "Yes, well, I suppose everyone deserves a second chance. Just mind that neither you nor your Slayer need a third, for you'll not get it."