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 20

Chapter Summary:
Chapters 20 - SUPPLIES - I think the title of this chapter speaks for itself, no?
Posted:
11/13/2002
Hits:
1,562
Author's Note:
Yet another filler chapter. What can I say? I do these regularly to build up to the massive storyline that is coming very quickly :)

The Eighth Weasley - Chapter Twenty

SUPPLIES

Notes: Okay, I'm back on track again - sorted out the chapters into a nice, organised spreadsheet. This is where things start getting fun...or, at least begin the lead-in to the fun, where Willow isn't the only Buffy-esque subject of crossover anymore. Anyway - back to Diagon Alley...

_________________

"Good afternoon, Mrs Weasley. Miss Weasley."

Choking on green ash, Willow blinked hard, her lashes crusted with the stuff. "Uh, hi, whoever you are," A wand tapped her on the head and her vision cleared, allowing her to look around.

She and her mother had used to Floo Powder to travel down to London to collect Willow's wizarding supplies.

Apparently, they had arrived in a special store just inside Diagon Alley that had a fireplace for anyone using Floo Powder, or apparating directly in without having to pass through The Leaky Cauldron.

Willow looked around, fascinated.

Several fireplaces lined one of the cream and green walls: an old-fashioned, wide, smoke-blackened, red-brick hearth with a sign above it that said 'Family Transport' in curly golden letters; a small, blackened stove-like hob apparently for 'Witches & Warlocks of the Elder Persuasion', as well as several smaller ones that were polished, gleaming impeccably for 'Individual Transportation'.

The wizard who had greeted them was a short, plump man, his grey robes coated in what was probably a permanent dusting of emerald powder. He had a round, friendly, red face, wispy, receding black hair and wore a broad smile and half-moon glasses halfway down his nose.

"Good afternoon, Basil. It's nice to see you again," Mrs Weasley smiled, taking the pudgy hand that was offered and shaking it.

Impish brown eyes that looked too young to belong to an adult twinkled. "When I heard that you and the famous missing Weasley might be coming in to pick up her supplies, I simply had to arrange my shifts to see you again."

"Mom?"

"Willow, dear," Bringing her daughter forward, she smiled. "This is Basil Dimley-Butterworth, an old friend," Willow politely shook his hand. "He's one of the Wizards who helped to try and find you, before he retired from the Ministry."

"Oh! Hi! Its great to meet you!" Shaking his hand a little more vigorously, Willow gave him a broad smile. "I'm Willow."

"It's a wonder they took as long to find you, as they did, Miss Weasley," Basil said, studying her. "Anyone with half an eye would be more than able to see you take after the ravishing beauty that is your mother."

"Basil!" Mrs Weasley laughed, swatting him. "You are terrible!"

"And always frightfully honest, Molly, you know that," He smiled from one woman to the other. "I suppose I will have to allow you to depart now," Stepping out of their path, he directed their attention to the door. "Diagon Alley."

"You're right, Basil," Pecking the giddy Wizard on the cheek, Mrs Weasley took her daughter's arm. "We should be off."

As she was steered out of the shop and into Diagon Alley by her mother, Willow waved back at the receding figure of Basil. "By Mr...er...Bye Basil! It was nice meeting you!"

"And you, Miss Weasley!" he called after her. "And you!"

***

The streets were milling with people, witches and wizards of various ages bustling about, many young ones preparing for the return to school. The numerous colours of robes blended together into a kaleidoscope.

Her arm looped through her mother's, Willow looked around in awe.

She had been in Diagon Alley before, when they had been staying at The Leaky Cauldron, but it was still an incredible sight, so many different shops that seemed to normal, yet so bizarre in the same instant.

They had just been to Gringotts and Willow had been shown her own vault, which had been almost filled with contributions from the Ministry, as compensation for taking so long to find her.

So, with wizarding money jingling heavily in the purse hanging against her hip, she was looking forward to the shopping spree ahead.

"And I suppose we ought to get you some decent robes," She was only half-listening to Mrs Weasley's words. "Mind you, knowing dear Professor Dumbledore, you would probably be allowed to wear muggle-wear..."

The young witch's eyes fell on a gleaming broomstick in the dimpled windows of the shop they had just past, her mouth dropping open. She didn't need her Quidditch-mad brothers to inform her that she was looking at a high-quality broomstick.

"And books...they're always awfully expensive...ah! Here we are!"

"Wha?"

Molly smiled. "Ollivanders, dear," She nodded up at the peeling and cracked sign above the grimy window.

It read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382BC. From the looks of the shop, it hadn't been given a new sign since then. Willow's brows beetled. She glanced into the window and saw a single wand lying on a dusty pillow.

"Is...is it still a real store?" she asked uncertainly. "It looks a bit...uh...not-open."

"It has always looked like this, dear," Mrs Weasley assured her. "Come on."

Opening the door, which squeaked loudly as they did so, the bell jingled above them as they entered the gloomy building. It was as dusty inside as the outside suggested it might be, no one visible behind the counter.

Willow stared around, moving towards the counter in the middle of the store to take in everything. Mrs Weasley sat down on one of the spindly wooden chairs near the window, holding her handbag in her lap.

Everywhere in the tiny shop, boxes upon thin, narrow boxes were piled into every nook and cranny, some towering in dust-coated columns that looked like they would only be staying upright with help from magic.

Even the small lamp on the desk, which was giving out a buttery-yellow light that seemed to illuminate the whole shop, stood in a rather precarious position on top of a column of thin boxes.

It was almost as if someone had completely frozen time in the store, the heavy silence hanging as softly as the dust-spotted cobwebs that glistened in the corners of the uppermost shelves.

As they waited, the silence getting deeper, Willow shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest. "Mom...?" She started to ask, yelling in fright when a voice calmly spoke from right beside her.

"I did wonder if we would ever be seeing you in here," Spinning to face the speaker, Willow backed up slightly, startled. His frighteningly pale eyes gleamed at her in the dim light. "The youngest Weasley."

"Uh...hi and..." Hoping it wouldn't sound to rude and blunt, Willow tried to smile at him. "Who're you?"

"Ollivander," the old wizard said with an enigmatic smile. "I was informed of your recovery by Professor Dumbledore, when he brought me that rather interesting choice of your wand core. They provide great power to the bearer, some of the power of the mythical creature itself."

"Oh! Right! Hair of a Slayer."

Ollivander gave her an expressionless look. "If one might ask, how did you come by such a rare item?"

"I pulled it off her head."

"Indeed? Interesting...very interesting...raise your wand arm, please..." The wizard withdrew a long, silver-marked measuring tape from one of his many pockets and started to measure her. "And how did you find her?"

"Uh..." Watching the tape measure flit out of Ollivander's hands and start measuring the length of her nose and width of her ears, the witch tried to remember what she had been asked. "Oh! I've been her friend for four years. I lived with her at college."

"You are on familiar terms with a Slayer, Miss Weasley?" Ollivander looked slightly surprised. "How very intriguing..." He walked into the stacks of boxes, still talking, as the measuring tape worked. "However, I will have to test your responses with other wand cores, lest there is something more suited to you." Returning with an armful of boxes, he gave her a small smile. "Although I have made a wand for you, to Professor Dumbledore's specifications."

"Okay," Willow squinted around the measuring tape. "What's this measuring me for, anyway?"

"To assess which wand would be best for you."

Willow looked a little bemused. "So I might not get one with Buffy stuff in it?"

"As I said, Miss Weasley, we will test you for the most compatible wand," He held out a thin stick with a distinct, decorated handle. "Humour me, if you will." Willow nodded, taking the wand. "Give it a wave."

Doing so, Willow squeaked in shock and almost dropped the wand when a miniature tidal wave spewed out of the back wall, behind Ollivander, sloshing down around her ankles as it trailed away to a trickle.

"Oh God! I'm sorry I didn't know it would happen!"

Much to her surprise, Ollivander was chuckling. "Well, I suppose I did ask you to give it a wave and you certainly did that," He took the wand back. "That would be a no on this wand."

As he put that wand away and chose another, Willow noticed - to her astonishment - that her aquatic accident hadn't even disturbed the dust on the lower shelves, all of the boxes in exactly in the same place as they had been.

"Here. Try this one," Several more different wands followed in rapid succession, each bringing a mini-natural disaster with it, or so it felt to Willow, a small pile of wands mounting up on the counter beside Ollivander.

"What's meant to happen if it's the right one?" she asked sheepishly, smoothing down her wind-swept hair.

"Ah, you will know, Miss Weasley," Still smiling, Ollivander offered her a slim wand that looked somehow better than all the other ones. Willow couldn't say what it was about the wand exactly, but she held her hand over it for a heartbeat.

"This is the one," she said aloud, more to herself than anyone, before picking it up.

The wood was warm, smooth and the ridges of the handle seemed to fit perfectly against her fingers. She could feel the power radiating through it and swung it in a swishing motion, a dazzling rainbow painting across the musty air from the tip.

"Oh! That's beautiful, Willow!" She heard her mother exclaim.

"Indeed, Miss Weasley," Ollivander's eyes glimmered. "and, oddly, this is the very wand that was made for you." He took it from her and studied it. "You desired it, but it was the wand that selected you."

"This is the wand with the Slayer-hair in it?"

"It is. Twelve inches, willow with a slayer hair as the core," Placing it in the wooden box, he gazed steadily at Willow. "Be mindful, Miss Weasley. A Vampire Slayer is a very powerful individual. It goes without saying that this wand will be so, as well."

"I'll be careful, Mister Ollivander," she promised. "I've done spells that went bad so I know about being real careful, because I don't wanna be seeing a skanky vamp me again, because that was just creepy and..." She trailed off, embarrassed.

A small smile reached his lips. "With the power already manifest in you, I only hope that I will stay on your good side," He handed her the box. "For such a unique witch, who gave me such a wonderful challenge in making this wand, I would like to make a gift of your first wand."

Blushing, Willow grinned. "Thanks, Mister Ollivander. You don't need to..."

"I will hear of no excuses!" Ollivander held up his hands. "It is a gift."

As the box was placed into her hands, Willow felt her smile broadening. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I love it."

***

"Is there anything else I need, mom?"

Almost every shop in Diagon Alley had been paid a visit by the pair of Weasley women, the supplies for Willow's first year at Hogwarts rapidly mounting up as they afternoon wore on.

A set of formal black robes and deep, forest-green dress robes had been fitted for her by Madam Malkin, who commented on how skinny Willow was compared to most of the normal-sized pupils she dealt with, tutting and telling Molly to feed her up.

The clerk in the book shop had fawned all over Willow, eagerly telling her that he had been following her dramatic story in the Daily Prophet and - he asked somewhat nervously - could he bother her for an autograph.

Blushing scarlet, her mother chuckling behind her, Willow had hastily scribbled her name on a piece of parchment, before dropping a handful of coins on the counter and fleeing the shop with her books.

The only time she could recall being more embarrassed was when she had been forced to wear Vampire-Willow-wear, which had revealed more of her chest than she had ever shown before.

Her mother had found it very amusing and hadn't stopped chuckling for half an hour after they left the shop, another burst of giggles escaping her every time that Willow started to ask her something.

She had finally calmed down after a brief stop at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream parlour, where Willow had found out that she could actually get snozzberry flavoured ice-cream, much to her surprise.

They had just departed the parlour, for one last sweep of the shops, to pick up anything they might have forgotten.

Looking down in the enchanted, Mary-Poppins-style basket she was carrying, which worked on the principal that it could never be filled, Mrs Weasley smiled. "I think we have everything you need...except..." She withdrew a piece of parchment with a list on it. "Aha! A pewter cauldron."

Willow shook her head. "I can't believe that we actually use cauldrons and wands. I always thought that that was what muggles decided magic was done with. I didn't think we'd really have them."

"I doubt the muggles would expect us to use them either. If you claim to be a witch, while wearing robes and stirring a cauldron, with a black cat at your feet, they won't believe a word you say."

"Must be kinda useful, huh?" Molly looked at her questioningly. "You look so much like a stereotype that they think you're just pretending and they don't even realise that you are a witch, because you look too similar to how they imagine one to look," A lop-sided grin crossed Willow's face. "Well, it made sense in my head..."

Mrs Weasley laughed. "I'm sure it did, dear," She took her daughter's arm again, both of them making their way towards the Cauldron shop, cauldrons of all shapes, sizes and metals standing in piles around the store-front and windows.

"They're so dinky!" Willow exclaimed, as they approached the pewter cauldrons.

"Well, you don't need to get a full size one yet, Willow," her mother reminded her, smiling. "These ones work well enough."

"They're so cute! It's like a weeny baby cauldron!" She picked one up, cradling it carefully in her hands, studying it from all sides. The polished metal gleamed, her distorted reflection staring back at her.

"Can I help you, ladies?" Willow and her mother turned to find a tall, lanky wizard in grimy grey robes with the sleeves pinned up above his knobbly elbows, wearing a tan, leather apron over his clothes, a polished cauldron gripped in one hand.

"I need to get one of the wee...er...small pewter cauldrons," Willow held up the one she had in her hands. "How much are they?"

The wizard studied her for a moment, then replied, "The small pewter ones are three galleons and seven sickles plain, or four galleons and three sickles with decoration. If you want it engraved, for a personal touch, it costs five knuts a letter."

"Mom?"

"You want one with your name on it, don't you?" Mrs Weasley smiled indulgently.

Willow grinned weakly. "Uh...well, it would be kinda neat..." She looked at the one she was holding. "Can I get this one?" The wizard nodded. "And-and on it...can I get something engraved on it?"

"Of course," Placing the cauldron in his hands on the counter beside him, he took the small cauldron from her. "What do you want engraved on it?"

"Willow Weasley," she said immediately, smiling at her mother.

"That will be two sickles and seven knuts," He withdrew his wand, from a pockets in his robes, tracing the outline of letters on the smooth side of the cauldron. They immediately started to glow and brightened until Willow had to look away. When her vision cleared, there was her name, in perfect, looping letters. "Now, would you like with or without decorations?"

"What kind of decorations can I get?"

"There are several basic ones..." He showed them, by tapping the wand against the cauldron's side, the shape shifting a few times, growing feet and adding extra handles, before it returned to its original form. "Or you could develop one of your own."

Biting on her lower lip thoughtfully, Willow studied the cauldron for a long time, then a smile crossed her face. "Okay," she said. "This is what I want my cauldron to look like..."

***

"You can't do anything like a normal person, can you?" Ron remarked dryly.

He was examining Willow's new cauldron, as his youngest sister tried to arrange her large pile of supplies that were spread across her bed and the bedroom floor around her, to get them into her new, leather, brass-bound trunk.

"You could...ugh..." Willow was stuck halfway under the bed, trying to extricate herself and the trunk, unsuccessfully. "Help..."

"Yeah, yeah..." Ron continued to study the cauldron, ignoring her.

It had four little feet that looked like a werewolf's paws, complete with claws, no doubt to remind her of her boyfriend. The handles looked like they were made of three stakes of wood for the Slayer connection. Lastly, and oddly, there was a cartoon-styled dog, which he assumed was because of Xander and something Willow had mentioned about the 'Snoopy dance'.

However, one thing did puzzle him. "Will, what's the leaf-thing about?"

Squirming out, covered in dust, the youngest of the Weasleys looked up at her brother. "When I said I needed help, I did kinda mean now, Ron," She crossed her arms petulantly over her chest.

"I know, but what's the leaf thing about?" He flashed a wide grin at her, and despite her annoyance, she couldn't help smiling back. he motioned to the wreath of leaves that circled the top of the cauldron.

"They're willow leaves."

Ron groaned.

"What?"

"You...Willow leaves...oh God...that's just awful, Will."

Sticking her tongue out at him, Willow snatched her cauldron from him. "Well, since you don't like that," she said, sniffing. "You can be useful and get my trunk out from under the bed."

"And you say you and Ginny are nothing alike..." Ron muttered, getting off the bed and kneeling down to look for the trunk.