Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Genres:
General Crossover
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 11/02/2002
Updated: 11/04/2007
Words: 363,688
Chapters: 65
Hits: 101,532

The Eighth Weasley

Fyre

Story Summary:
Set post-book seven. Voldemort is long gone and the dust is settling. So when the Weasleys are informed that a missing family member has been located, there is a great deal of excitement and nervousness as contact is made with said absentee from the family. However, when it transpires that the missing Weasley has connections with a certain Vampire Slayer, it goes without saying that Hogwarts will never be the same again!

Chapter 11

Chapter Summary:
Chapter Eleven of The Eighth Weasley - This has to be my favourite chapter in this series so far. It was all so spontaneous when I was writing it and those always seem to be the best ones. First, though, apologies for any character bashing that ensues later. Its not because I dislike any character, but it just...er...sort of fits in with the story. Also, we have some familiar faces popping up, just for all of my wonderful friendly Stoners (in the YGTS? context, of course!)
Posted:
11/05/2002
Hits:
1,712
Author's Note:
Again, I have to mention this story is addictive and that its all the fault of the Stones guys and gals! Love to you guys!

The Eighth Weasley - Chapter 11

Diagon Alley

Notes: This has to be my favourite chapter in this series so far. It was all so spontaneous when I was writing it and those always seem to be the best ones. First, though, apologies for any character bashing that ensues later. Its not because I dislike any character, but it just...er...sort of fits in with the story. Also, we have some familiar faces popping up, just for all of my wonderful friendly Stoners (in the YGTS? context, of course!)

_____________________________

"Stand back," Giles had produced his wand from a deep pocket and stepped up to the crumbling brick wall in front of them. His companions watched dubiously, as he tapped a brick three times with the tip of the wand.

"Whoa!" Xander exclaimed, impressed, as the bricks started moving, the sound of stone grating against stone barely audible as the pathway opened into Diagon Alley, a perfect arch forming in the wall.

Anya nodded admiringly at the arch. "Good stonework," she remarked.

"Have to get one of those put in my frat," Oz agreed. "Stylish."

Giles replaced his wand in the pocket again. "Welcome to Diagon Alley, shopping centre of the Wizarding World."

"Can we go look at stuff?" Buffy demanded eagerly.

The former Librarian sighed. "I should have expected that," he remarked, more to himself than anyone else. "I need to go to Gringotts, so I'll trust you to behave yourselves and we'll meet there," He pointed to a small cafe. "In two hours." He pointed a finger at Xander. "Don't touch anything."

"Two hours! What can I look at in two hours? Giles!"

He pointedly ignored her, walking off into the bustling crowds, in the direction of a large, impressive-looking white building in the distance. Anya immediately grabbed Xander's arms, hauling him away into the swarms of people.

"I think I'll just hang out here," Oz looked around and up at the sun shining down between the tiled rooftops and buildings. "See you?"

"Yeah..." Buffy murmured absently, staring around at the shops. Surely there would be a Victoria's Secret somewhere around here.

Leaving the werewolf to make himself comfortable on a bench in the warm sun, she started off through the numerous witches and wizards of all ages, quite a lot of them clad in robes and strange garb.

She got a few curious looks, but many younger witches seemed to be wearing clothing similar to her own, so she didn't feel so out of place.

"Have you seen the price of newt eyes?" an elderly woman with curly white hair and round glasses that reminded the Slayer of her grandmother demanded, looking horrified. "Fifteen knuts a gram!"

"Uh...I'm guessing that's bad?" Buffy offered, hoping she was saying the right thing.

"Bad? Bad?!?" The Witch threw her hands up in horror. "Dear, its proposterous! For that price, I could buy ten newts and pluck the eyes from them," A nauseous look crossed the Slayer's face. "Oh dear," The witch noticed the look and grinned slightly, showing crooked teeth. "That did sound quite bad, didn't it?" She reached out to pat the Slayer's hand with a gnarled one. "I would kill them first, of course. I'm not that inhumane."

"Oh. Good."

"Oh, excuse me, dear." Squeezing past the Slayer, the old woman bustled off, leaving the stunned Buffy staring after her.

"O...K..." she managed to say, turning to continue down the street, finally coming within window-shopping range of the first shop. The sign above the door had a picture of a cauldron and there were stacks of the things along the front of the shop and in the window.

Moving onwards, she almost tripped over a group of children playing with marbles. Pausing to watch, she yelled in fright and surprise when one of the marbles that was struck by another burst into a puff of flame, then vanished.

"Was that meant to happen?" she asked, when all their faces rose to look up at her, apparently amused by her response.

"Uh-huh." A dark girl with braided hair nodded. "They're Phoenix marbles."

"Don't worry," one of the boys said, grinning at her. He was sandy haired, green eyed and both his front teeth were missing. "They come back, when the games finished. They're the newest game from Zonko's."

"Zonko's?" Buffy echoed faintly, squatting down to talk to them.

"Yeah!" another boy enthused, pointing up at the shop they were squatted outside. A bright, gaudy sign proclaimed it to be called 'Zonko's Joke Shop'. "They just opened this one, since not everyone can get all the way to Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?"

The gap-toothed boy stared at her. "You're a muggle, aren't you?"

"Uh...sort of."

"How can you be sort of a muggle?" the dark girl demanded shrilly.

"Well, I do have some magic stuff I can do...sort of..."

The brown-haired boy frowned. "Like what?"

"Well, I...uh...can fight vampires."

"Do you use a wand?" The sandy-haired boy asked.

Buffy grinned faintly, reaching behind her back and withdrawing Mister Pointy. The stake remained with her at all times and she had taped it to her back, in case any vampires should happen to lurk in sunlight-filled Diagon Alley. "I have this."

"That's not a wand!" the dark-haired boy pointed out. "That's just a boring stick."

"This boring stick," Buffy spun it in her hand, like a gun-slinger would a gun, making all three of the children stare, three mouths forming 'o's of surprise. "Has killed more vampires than you can imagine."

The toothless boy hesitantly touched it. "Really?"

"Yep!" The blonde girl grinned, but then it faded slightly as she added. "A friend gave it to me, a little while before she died," She turned the stake over in her hand, touching the carved handle reverently. "Its been my best stake for two years."

"How do we know you're not just making that up?" the dark girl said. "I've never seen a vampire, so how do we know they're real?"

Replacing Mister Pointy at the base of her back, she raised a hand and pulled her loose hair back from her neck. "You see this mark?" she said, pointing to the scar on her throat. All three knelt up to stare and nodded. "I was bitten there by a vampire."

"You were bitten?" the dark-haired boy whispered. "Wow..."

"Did it hurt?" the girl inquired.

Buffy looked at her, then smiled slightly. "Duh! A great big demon stuck his teeth into my neck! Of course it hurt."

"Did you stick your stick into his chest?" the sandy-haired boy asked eagerly.

Letting her hair fall back over her neck, Buffy shook her head. "He was too strong for a boring stick," she said with a shudder. "So I pushed him through a roof and he fell onto a huge stake and poof! He was gone."

"Cool!" All three were staring at her in awe.

"What are you up to, Josh?" A shadow lengthened above them and Buffy squinted up to see a striking man in his early twenties standing over them. The sandy haired boy snatched up his marbles and scrambled to his feet.

"Uncle Oliver!" he squealed excitedly, as Buffy straightened up awkwardly, a sheepish look on her face. "This lady kills vampires with a weird stick! She killed one with a great big stick after she pushed him through a roof!"

His Uncle, Oliver apparently, looked from the boy to Buffy. "Right, Josh. No more horror stories at bed time, for you," he said dryly, then gave Buffy a smile. His accent was faintly Scottish, with a far-too-yummy sound to it and he was...Buffy nearly whimpered aloud. He was cute and sounded sexy too. She was never going to get a word out! "Sorry if they were bothering you."

"That...its...uh...no problem." Ah! Those were the words she needed to use. Now, repeat and add, so you sound vaguely normal. "It was no problem." As always, muteness in the face of cuteness had struck again.

He held out a strong hand, which Buffy shook, still staring mutely at him. "I'm Oliver Wood and this little tyke here," He nodded down to the sandy-haired boy, who was grinning brightly. "Is my nephew, Josh."

"I...I...erm...Buffy." Your own name! Bravo! Such wit and talent with words you've got going there. "I'm Buffy. Buffy Summers."

There was a brief flicker of recognition in the man's face. "I'm sure I've heard that name somewhere." He gave her another smile. "No matter, I'm sure it'll come to me." He caught Josh's hand in his. "Nice meeting you, but I have to be off."

"Nice...you too...I mean, meeting you was nice too." Mentally kicking herself, she watched as the tall, darkish and handsome man with the rather sexy accent walked into the crowd, leading Josh with him.

"Bye!" Josh called back, waving.

Buffy reluctantly waved after him, before continuing on her way down the streets.

***

"I'd like to make a withdrawl from account number seven-two-nine."

"Name."

"Rupert Giles."

"Do you have your key?"

The former Watcher was raking through his pockets for the key, when he heard the familiar tones of Anya's voice ringing across the hall. The marble walls and floor tended to make sound carry, so most people would keep their voices respectfully low, but not Anya.

Placing his copper key on the tabletop, beside a pile of diamonds next to silver scales, he turned to see what the former demon was up to.

She was standing on the other side of the hall, at one of the desks. A Goblin with an open ledger was looking down at her as grimly as any other Goblin would, leaning forward on his forearms. A quill was gripped in the long fingers of his right hand.

"I have an account in the name of Anya Eimersohn," she was saying, proferring a small, gold key. Xander was standing beside her, looking distinctly nervous. "I never closed it, so with all the interest rates and everything, there should be lots of money in it for me."

"Anya Eimersohn," The Goblin in front of her was looking through the books and, for the first time in living memory, a Gringotts' Goblin uttered an exclamation of surprise, every eye in the bank swiveling to him.

"It better still be open," Anya muttered to Xander.

"Honey, what is that?"

Anya looked from her boyfriend to the Goblin. "Him? He's a Goblin," She gave the Goblin a bright smile, as he rechecked the dates, his mouth hanging open, revealing sharp rows of teeth. "Don't stare," she added, to Xander. "Its rude."

"There...there seems to be some kind of mistake," the Goblin muttered in as low a voice as he could.

"Mistake?" Anya's voice, as always, seemed to penetrate every ear. Even the Goblin serving Giles was watching the unfolding drama with a combination of curiousity and disguised puzzlement. "What kind of mistake? My life savings were in that account."

"But it says this account was opened in the year 901. AD." Beads of sweat were dotting the Goblin's brow.

"And?"

He blinked at her. "A-and?"

"I'm eleven hundred and twenty years old. Give me my money already."

"Excuse me a moment," Giles' Goblin murmured, sliding off his stool and hurrying to the younger Goblin's aid. "Perhaps I can be of assistance," he offered. "What seems to be the trouble here?"

"I have an account with money in it," Anya explained, scowling at the Goblin. "I want the money and he won't let me have it."

"You are Anya Eimersohn?" She nodded impatiently. "And you opened this account eleven hundred years ago?"

"No."

"Oh?"

"I opened it a thousand and ninety-nine years ago, in 901.AD, like your friend said." She gave him a dark glare. "I thought you were meant to be able to count and now, you won't even let me have my money back!"

The younger Goblin pointed to some figures on the page. "Ah, Miss Eimersohn..."

"I'm called Emerson now. It seemed to fit better with the twentieth century."

"Miss Emerson," The Goblin politely nodded, voice low. "It seems that your account had to be transferred to..." He scanned down the figures. "Vaults twenty one, seventy nine, four hundred and thirty and six hundred and fifty two." He looked up at her. "It grew too extensive to be contained in one vault."

"Ooh!" The former-demon's eyes lit up. "That means I'm rich, doesn't it?" She grinned happily at Xander. "I can buy a new apartment now," she enthused. "One that doesn't smell of mildew and dirty laundry." She paused. "Oh...that was yours."

"Shall I take Miss Emerson down to her vaults?" The younger Goblin asked weakly.

"That would be wise," The Senior one nodded, then returned to his desk, where Giles was still waiting. "I apologise for that," he said, reseating himself and turning the pages of his huge ledger to make a note, before returning his attention to Giles. "You have your key?"

Tapping it, Giles nodded, watching distractedly as the smiling Anya and terrified-looking Xander were led through the immense copper doors that led to the carts that would carry them down to the vaults.

"One moment." The Goblin called for one of his colleagues.

"Follow me, please," The little Goblin said, clad in identical red and gold livery to the rest of the Goblins in the Bank. Giles nodded, still chuckling slightly at what had just happened. To see a Gringotts' Goblin speechless...it had to be savoured.

***

"Nice place," Buffy murmured to herself, looking around the darker alleyways. Despite the blue skies above the buildings, none of the sunlight seemed to penetrate the dingy passages she had strayed into.

The stores had become grimmer as well, hideous things lying in the windows, making her shudder. She was starting to see why Giles had described it as 'fascinating', as opposed to 'a real shopping experience for the fashion-lover'.

She was also thinking up slow and painful ways of killing him for daring to class any of the small shops as 'stores'. None of them even sold shoes or clothes she would wear, unless she wanted to look like a black tent.

A sigh of frustration escaped her and she turned to return to the sunnier parts of Diagon Alley, but she could see no sign of it.

"Brilliant," she grumbled to herself, looking around before starting down a random alley. "Get lost in the icky dark place."

She had taken half a dozen turns before realising that she was just getting herself even more lost, a groan of frustration escaping her. Looking up, she found herself outside a shop called Borgin & Burkes and she looked around as the door beside her opened.

Three men emerged from the shop, all looking around the same age as the Slayer. The two large, muscular, gormless looking ones were flanking the tall, slender young man in the middle. If he hadn't looked so blatantly arrogant, he might have been good-looking.

"Uh...excuse me?"

"Yes?" the middle man said, looking down at her coldly. He was wearing expensive robes, his pale, pointed face twisted in an expression of disgust.

"I seem to have got a bit lost," She looked around hopelessly. "Could you point me in the direction of the main streets?"

His cool grey eyes skimmed over her and he raised a brow. "Indeed."

"Would that be a yes or a no?"

"You could use your wand to find your way back," he sneered.

"Well, if I had one, I would." Hands on her hips, she glared at him.

The other blond brow rose. "If you had one," A cold laugh escaped his thin lips. "How very amusing," Both his beefy cohorts took that as a cue to chuckle in what was meant to be a menacing way.

"Amusing? Amusing how?"

"An American muggle lost in Knockturn Alley."

She stared at him rudely. "Still not seeing the funnies."

"Of course you're not," he murmured. A slender hand rose and a chilly thumb brushed across Buffy's cheek. She recoiled from his touch, a look of contempt on her face. "Its such a wonderful irony that none of your muggle friends would even know what happened to you and no one down here would honestly care."

"You might have to try that explanation thing one more time," she knocked his hand aside and added dangerously. "Touch me again and I break every one of your fingers."

A smirk lifted thin lips up, the shadows around them making the thin man look even more sinister. "Knockturn Alley is for lovers of the Dark Arts and usually those who would happily kill muggles on sight," His eyes drifted suggestively down her body. "Or at least, entertain themselves using a muggle."

"Uh...huh..."

"You might be lucky," he murmured, his voice like chilling silk. "A pretty thing like you..."

"What part of 'Touch me again and I break every one of your fingers' did you not understand?"

The pale-faced man chuckled icily. "I think, Muggle, that you might...no, you will be begging for us all to touch you in a short time..." a wand appeared in his slender hand and he casually remarked. "Imperio."

Buffy felt an odd sensation, as if all her cares had been swept away, as if she didn't have a thing to worry about in the World. That made her mentally raise her brows. Despite the niceness of the feeling, it felt wrong, considering her duty.

"Come with us, Muggle," the pale-faced man whispered softly, moving alongside her. His hand spread on her back, steering her forward.

It would be so easy to obey, to go with them, to do what they wanted.

The pleasant feelings washed over her again as she took a step forward.

"Good girl," His fingers caressed her spine through her short-sleeved shirt. "You'll enjoy this."

Just go with them. Do what they want. Enjoy the peace.

Ew...sleazy guy touching...break all fingers...

Enjoy the peace. Its nice, for a change. It doesn't matter.

What? Are you crazy? You heard the guy! He'll probably screw you and kill you!

And? Its too nice now.

AND??


There was a sickening crack.

"Bloody hell!"

Buffy shook her head, blinking and clearing away the remnants of the spell from her mind. "Okay, I said fingers...so I missed," she said coldly, staring down at the one who had cast the spell.

The pale man was on the pavement on his knees, his hand pressed to his nose. Blood was spurting from his nostrils. "You bitch!"

"Hey, I didn't put a spell on you to make you do what I wanted," she retorted, hands on her hips, voice icy.

"Crabbe, Goyle..." He motioned both of his cronies forward, struggling to get to his feet, dabbing his nose with the corner of his robes.

The two enormous youths cracked their knuckles and flexed their bulging muscles, leering down at the petite blonde. She spread her hands with a chilling grin of anticipation, barely reaching the chest of either of the men.

"Big manly men, all attacking lil ole me?" She batted her eyes. "Oh, heyulp!"

Crabbe was the first to attack.

Before ten seconds had passed, his nose was broken, as was his jaw, one wrist snapped and one shoulder dislocated. Several ribs had been cracked, his head thrust through a shop window and he was sent flying halfway down the street with one savage kick to the gut.

Smashing into a wall, he slumped down on the ground, unconscious.

The pale-faced man seemed to have gone even paler, backing away and trying to make an escape down an alley as Goyle charged in with a bellow of fury for the condition his partner in crime had been left in.

Several swift blows, two roundhouse kicks and a powerful uppercut directly under the immense jaw of the huge man laid him out and he seemed to fall back in slow motion, his face puffy with bruises.

Crashing to the pavement, he lay, limp and unconscious.

The third of the number was about to run down the nearest alley, when a lithe figure used a nearby lamp post to flip over him and landed on her feet in front of him, dusting herself down with a small smile.

"Leaving so soon?"

He raised his wand, but she noticed his hand was shaking. "Avada..."

"I don't think so," A swift motion disarmed him and Buffy casually looped an arm around his waist, squeezing him tightly enough for the ribs to start cracking under the pressure, the skin bruising. He released a whimper. "You know," She smiled brightly up at him. "I think you and me are going to have a nice little talk, don't you?"

A panic-stricken look crossed his face. "You can't lay a finger on me, Muggle," he hissed.

"I don't intend to lay a finger on you," she replied. Relief spread across his features and the Slayer smirked. "A fist maybe, or even a boot, but never a finger..." The relief faded as her arm tightened and several ribs clicked. "I think we're going to be best friends, after this..."

"You'll never get away with..." he trailed off with a cry of pain as she squeeze a tiny bit harder and made his ribs move agonisingly beneath his skin.

Steering the mumbling young man down a deserted alleyway, Buffy chuckled coolly. "You wouldn't believe how many people have said that to me," she murmured. "And you wouldn't believe how many times I have got away with it."

"I'll pay you..."

"They tried that too," she sighed. "That's the funny thing about me...I seem to be the most unbribable girl in the world."

"Just don't hurt me."

This time, Buffy did look at him coldly and said, her voice venomous. "After what you just tried to do?" The smile on her lips was the one that made vampires and demons run in terror. "I won't hurt you." A solid uppercut to the gut doubled him over. She looked down at him with cold disgust. "Much."