The Eighth Weasley

The Eighth Weasley - Chapter Five

Werewolves and Wizards and Demons - Oh my!

"Giles, there's a very old man in weird clothes on your couch."

"Anya, I'm aware of this," Giles' smile looked a little strained, as he motioned the former demon and her boyfriend into the living room. Willow and Buffy were already present. "I want you all to meet Professor Dumbledore, my former Headmaster."

Xander peered at the wizard. "You must be really old if you taught G-Man."

"Please don't call me that," Giles winced.

"Actually," Dumbledore put in with a chuckle, "I am rather old...I have past my one and a half Centennial," He smiled. "if you count that as old."

"Pfft!" Anya made a dismissive gesture. "That’s nothing!"

"Indeed?"

"I'm eleven hundred and twenty one."

"And you are looking very good for your age, my dear," the former demon's face split in a smile, her cheeks flushing. The old Wizard winked at her, turning to look at the young man who had joined the group.

"He said I look good for my age," Anya tugged on Xander's sleeve, grinning.

The dark-haired youth nodded. "So I heard," he replied, suspiciously eyeing the wizard. "So what are you doing here, buddy?"

Willow spoke up. "Xander, you remember all those times we used to pretend I was adopted, just because my parents were never there?" Her lifelong friend nodded. "It...uh...it turns out that we were right."

"Huh?"

"Pretty much what I said," the red head grinned weakly. "It gets crazier. You know those Harry Potter books?"

"I was reading those," Anya put in. "I want to know how a muggle got hold of so much information, unless a wizard was the one who told her everything." Xander shushed her with a gesture, looking down at his seated friend.

"What about those books, Will?"

"They're...uh...real."

"As in 'Hansel and Gretel are a big ugly demon who wants to kill us all' real?"

"That's what I said," Buffy held up a hand. "And apparently, they're not evil and demony, no matter what some critics are saying," She nodded to the wizard. "Professor Dumbledore is the headmaster in the books."

"Which brings us back to the whole 'what are you doing here?' question."

"I have been sent by the Ministry of Magic," the bearded old man replied with a smile, "to find out if Miss Rosenberg would be interested and willing to met her biological family at some point in the future."

Xander raised a brow. "So you're not joking about the whole being adopted thing?"

"And he wanted to meet you guys because you're muggles and you still help me," Buffy added.

"We're what-tles?"

"Muggles."

"Uh..."

"Non-magic people," Willow filled in. She looked up as the door opened, allowing a small, colourful-haired young man to enter. "Oz!"

"Hey Willow," Stoic-faced, the youth joined the group, casting his eye over Dumbledore with interest. "Huh."

"Professor, this is Oz...he's my boyfriend and a werewolf."

"The werewolf that Miss Summers tranquilised last night?" Buffy nodded and the wizard smiled, offering a hand to the guitarist, which Oz shook without even raising a brow. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

"So, Willow," Dumbledore turned back to her. "What do you intend to do?"

The red head looked at him. "I-I don't know. Do they want to meet me?"

"Your parents are hoping to meet you," the wizard replied. "Your siblings have just been told about your existence, but are very curious about you as well. Of course, there is no hurry for you to do so."

"How would I meet them? Would they come here?"

"I think that it would probably be easier for you to come and see some of the wizarding world in England, if we can arrange transport for you," he replied, eyes twinkling. "That is, if you're interested in seeing the magical parts of your homeland."

"You mean Willow is actually English?" Anya pulled a face. "I knew there was something weird about her."

"Anya," Xander cautioned gently. Then he turned to his friend. "Is she right? Are you English, like librarian guy?" He motioned to the indignant-looking Giles.

"Apparently," the red head shrugged helplessly. "I-I would like to see some of the magical places, but I can't now...I'm at college and I can't stop going or anything, so could I maybe come and visit in the vacation?"

"That would be perfectly all right," Dumbledore nodded, reaching over to squeeze the youngest Weasley's hand. "I'll send an owl for you to use, should you need to correspond with me between those times."

"An owl?"

"They are what we use to deliver our mail, Mr. Harris," Dumbledore explained patiently. "It usually guarantees it won't get lost."

"Seriously?" Xander grinned. "That sounds kinda neat."

"It is certainly a good deal simpler that trying to teleport them," Dumbledore shook his head with a sigh. "The number of important documents that I have had spontaneously combust on arrival has been quite ridiculous."

Giles raised a questioning hand. "Professor, if Willow is remaining here until vacation, what shall we do about bringing her over to the Leaky Cauldron? After all, it is frightfully hard to find if-if-if you don't know what you're looking for."

"I'm sure I can arrange access for a small number of muggles into Diagon Alley," He looked around at them. "although something tells me that this particular group of muggles would be quite able to pass into the magical world without too much difficulty."

"Indeed..." Giles looked around at them with a smile. "They have all been involved in magic in some shape or form."

"And I was a witch," Anya put in helpfully. "That's how I ended up as a vengeance demon. I was doing a curse or two and D'Hoffryn caught up with me," She frowned. "It must have been before Hogwarts was started, because I remember hearing about it getting built. I still have my old wand."

"As do I," Giles added with a small smile. "Oak, fourteen inches, unicorn hair."

Anya blinked at him. "That's weird! Mine was oak, twelve inches with unicorn hair as well."

"And with only a thousand years in between," Dumbledore commented with a trace of amusement. "I can't imagine of all the millions of wizards in a thousand years, many would have that combination. Not at all."

"You guys really use wands?" Xander inquired. "Why doesn't Willow have a wand or something? And why they have unicorn hairs in them?"

Dumbledore chuckled, looking at Giles. "I see what you mean about them being rather perceptive, Rupert," he said, then returned his attention to Xander. "Willow doesn't have a wand, because she has never been measured for one. Most wands have a core made up of a part of a mystical creature. Some have phoenix feathers, others griffen fur. Rupert and your friend both have ones with a hair taken from the tail of a unicorn."

"Hold on a second...you're telling me unicorns are real?" Buffy looked from Anya and Giles to Dumbledore. "Nobody told me that unicorns are real."

"Most people wouldn't believe that werewolves are real either," Oz put in quietly, with a look at the Slayer.

"I guess," She nodded, then repeated questioningly. "But unicorns are real? What else? Dragons? Giants? Fairies? Elves? Trolls?" these were said with a laugh that faded as Dumbledore nodded. "You're serious?"

"I can introduce you to a rather charming half-giant in my employ, as well as some houselves, should you need proof," the Wizard smiled. "We also have some centaurs in the forest, a cave troll or two still locked in the dungeons somewhere..."

"What about hobbits?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm afraid that's from a different set of books, Mr. Harris. As far as we are aware, hobbits do not exist. They may, but not that we know of, and we all know that they are, after all, very private creatures," the wizard smiled slightly. "Although I have heard from Gandalf that they make exceptional cups of tea."

"Okay, you're confusing me."

"That's what he does best," Giles said. He, too, was smiling slightly. "and you must admit, Xander, that confusing you isn't the most challenging of tasks."

"Hey!"

The small group laughed at Xander's irritation and he was quick to join in, but something said earlier had made Willow realise something.

"Professor, will I have to get a wand?"

"It is likely."

Willow frowned thoughtfully. "If I give you a substance from a powerful mystical creature," she asked. "Can you have it put into a wand for me and would it work?"

Dumbledore spread his hands in a shrug. "It all depends on what the substance is, which kind of mystical creature it came from and how powerful that creature is." He raised a brow. "What did you have in mind?"

Reaching behind Buffy, the red head tugged one of her friend's hairs loose. "Ow! Will!"

"Sorry, Buffy, but I needed it," She grinned weakly, then held out the blonde hair to the old Wizard. "Would this work?"

"I'm certain it would," Dumbledore carefully took the hair, winding it around his fingertip into a small skein and tucking it into some recess in his robes. "I'll see that Ollivander gets it and see what he makes of it."

"So I'm a mystical creature?" Suddenly, the loss of a single hair didn't seem to upset the Slayer very much. "That's kinda neat..." Then, her face fell. "As long as the wand doesn't go and blow up or something like that. If it does, it’s not my fault!"

"Don't worry, Miss Summers," Dumbledore said. "The wand only acts as it's owner wishes it to. If Willow blows something up, then its because she chose to or because the wand is not suited to her. It isn't the fault of the core power."

The Slayer blew a sigh of relief. "Okay. I can deal with that."

The wizard looked around at the small group, then at Willow. "Is there anything you wish to know about your family, Willow?" he asked. "Do you wish to get in contact them before you meet them?"

"Uh...can you tell me the regular stuff about them?" the red head asked, holding her boyfriend's hand. "How old are they all? What are they like?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm assuming you know a little about them from the books. You are the youngest and William, or Bill, is the eldest. He's eleven years older than you, a respected treasure hunter for Gringotts and is married to a young lady named Fleur."

"Charles is next in line and is seven years older than you. He and Ron work in Romania with the wild dragons," Dumbledore steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Then we have Percy, five years your elder, and employee of the Ministry. Very responsible and oddly hard-working."

"Fred and George I'm sure you have heard of. They are three years older than you and are quite notorious pranksters," He smiled faintly. "And – unbeknownst to your mother – they have taken over one of the most infamous Joke Shops in the wizarding world."

"Second to last, there is Ron, a year older than you and your sister. He and Charlie are very alike. Then, we have your twin sister," Dumbledore's face broke into a broad, genuine smile. "A lovely young lady and she just married Harry Potter several months ago."

"Wait a second...Harry Potter is my brother-in-law?"

"You mean he survives the rest of the books?" Anya demanded. "Now, I can't read the rest of them, since I know what happens!"

"Yes, Willow. Your twin is married to Harry Potter, making him your brother-in-law," the old wizard smiled. "So you can see that you have a rather large, extended family." Willow nodded mutely. "And as I was asking earlier, do you wish to get in contact with them?"

She chewed her lip nervously for a moment. "Would it be by owl post?"

"If you so wish."

She lowered her eyes for a moment, studying her hands. "I think it would be nice to know them a bit, before I meet them," she said briefly. "But what shall I tell my parents here? I mean, they don't even know I'm studying here, but...I need to tell them something."

"It’s entirely up to you, Willow, although it is possible that they have become so distant because the spell has worn off since they got you," the Wizard spoke quietly, pensively. "Either something happened to the spell caster or they thought it no longer necessary to hold the spell in place."

The red head frowned. "Who was it that cast the spell...I mean, who was it that stole me and who was the one that gave me to my parents?"

"The one who took you was a wretch by the name of Peter Pettigrew," Dumbledore replied quietly. "His sister, Sheila, had relocated here because she believed she had the strength to use the powers of the Hellmouth. Fortunately, she overestimated her abilities." He smiled slightly. "She was no stronger than the average Witch, so nothing serious occurred. The biggest test of her powers came when her brother delivered you to her and they both had to combine their minimal talents to adjust your parents' memories."

Willow frowned. "I don't know anyone called Sheila Pettigrew." She remarked, her brow wrinkling in thought.

"It is possible that she changed her name." Dumbledore admitted. "However, whatever happened to her, it doesn't matter anymore. The Ministry has found you and nothing she could do would be able to hide you. She simply doesn't have enough power."

The red head nodded. "So, no matter what happens when you go back, the Ministry of Magic will know where I am?"

"Exactly."

"Can I write a letter for you to take back with you, then? I mean, it might take me a while, but I want to send something..."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm sure that will be fine," He folded his hands in his lap. "Professor McGonagall is, no doubt, keeping everything under control at Hogwarts, while I am here, so there is no hurry."

"Old MacGonagall is still there?" Giles shook his head with a laugh. "I thought she would have retired after she got rid of Ethan, Art and I."

"She's had two pairs that were almost as bad as you, since then, Rupert," Dumbledore reminded him jovially. "You just prepared her for the worst that any student could possibly throw at her."

Giles sniffed in mock-disdain. "I wasn't the one that turned her into a broomstick and flew her out for the Quidditch game."

"No, you were the genius behind it, though," Dumbledore was laughing, a deep chuckle. "You would suggest something that sounded mildly amusing and both of those young rogues would leap at the chance to play it out."

"And McGonagall only let us off because she was the broom that won the game."

"Oh yes..." Dumbledore released a soft boom of laughter. "I've never seen a Seeker's Broom actually spot the Snitch for him and take him to it. Poor Arthur. I'm not certain he was even sure what was going on."

"Wait a minute...is this the same Professor McGonagall in the books?"

"Indeed it is, Willow."

"And you," She turned to Giles. "Turned her into a broomstick?"

"It wasn't me!" Giles protested with a laugh. "Ethan was the expert at transfiguration. He caught her off-guard and the next thing you know, we have a broomstick in front of us. I never imagined he would be able to pull it off so quickly."

"Whatever happened to the old boy?"

Giles' smile faded. "You really don't want to know," Dumbledore nodded, the twinkle fading briefly from his eyes.

"Well," he struggled to his feet, steering his robes around the various limbs that were sticking out here, there and everywhere. "I ought to get back to the Motel and pay my bills. I have an owl or two to send before I return to Hogwarts. I'll come by here again this evening, if you have the letter ready, Willow."

"Sir," the red head stood up, holding out a hand to the wizard, which Dumbledore shook with a warm smile. "Can I ask one thing more?"

"Of course, child."

"What's my name?"

Dumbledore glanced down briefly, then met her eyes. "They called you Sarah, child. If you choose to keep this name or the name you have now, it is up to you."

"Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome."