The Slayer and the Squib

Chapter 2 ~ Magical Creature, Anyone?

Floo Powder, Buffy groused as she stumbled out of the fire crate, was an invention from the deepest pits of hell. It ranked on the Master List of Evil Things of Doom right up there with telemarketers, Microsoft products, and plaid.

Giles had birded - or whatever it was called - her the stuff from New York, where he was busy organising 'transatlantic transportation'. It had arrived attached to a bloody moody horned owl that had catapulted itself through the bathroom window and pecked Dawn viciously before Willow could run up to her room and get some weird souvenir coins from her trip to the wizard world to pay it with. It should have tipped them off instantly that the actual travelling wouldn't be up to civilised standards either.

Here she had dressed extra carefully and spent forty minutes on makeup and hair, only to get doused in soot fifteen minutes into the trip. Next to her, Willow was brushing ashes from her hair and ankle-length dark purple dress. Buffy blinked and rubbed her face. Surely slayer powers should make one immune against ash in the eye. Damn wizards!

Damn clumsy friends! was her next thought when Xander crashed into the fireplace from behind and knocked her forward to the floor.

"Ooof! Sorry Buff." He reached out to pull her up.

"There you are finally!" Giles darted into the small room which really only held the fireplace and a nonsensical clock with far too many hands. Buffy hung on to the handle of her duffel bag and stared. He wore what looked like the previous year's Halloween costume, a ridiculous long cloak embroidered with moons and stars. He flushed about the ears at her incredulous expression.

"Makes you nostalgic for the tweed, doesn't it?" she whispered to Willow and Xander, who snickered.

"Well, it could be worse," Xander murmured into her ear. "It could have been the poncho and sombrero combo..." More snickering.

Giles glared at them without too much force and looked at his watch with furrowed brows.

"Hurry up, you Philistines. Our Portkey goes in half an hour," he said, then frowned and paused. "Where's Dawn?"

Buffy sighed and decided just not to think about why someone would want to lock up a harbour. She'd practically spent all day yesterday badgering Dawn into coming with them, and had heard more variations of 'Over my dead and mutilated body on a snow day in the seventh circle of hell' (wherever that was) than she'd ever known existed. Andrew, on the other hand, they'd had to chain in the broom closet to stop him from tagging along.

"Dawn refused to come," she replied.

Looking at it rationally, Buffy couldn't blame her sister - she'd settled into her new school, had even found some kind of boyfriend, and made it very clear that spending a year among 'loons on brooms' was the last thing on her mind. From an emotional point of view, however, Buffy just felt rejected, and not a little worried. Who knew what kind of trouble Dawn could get into with Faith hanging around. Prison, coma, body switches, unrestrained sex - everything was possible. And that boyfriend looked... shady. Strangely enough, they all did. Not to mention that Dawn was really far too young for a relationship...

Giles looked crestfallen for a moment, and put a consoling hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said gently, before adding, "We have to go, though."

Grabbing their bags, they followed Giles into a building that resembled a huge Victorian library, only that it featured omnipresent fireplaces instead of bookshelves. It was quite crowded, and the fashion of the day seemed to run to robes of all forms and colours, with old-fashioned black or pointed hats for the men and pointed hats or equally old-fashioned bonnets for the women. Giles and even Willow did not look too much out of place, but Xander and especially Buffy, in her powder-blue top, pumps and miniskirt, did catch their share of awkward looks.

"Sorry there was no time to take you shopping beforehand," Giles threw over his shoulder as he steered his entourage through the crowd. "There is a Gladrags Branch in New York's Magic Alley just around the corner, but I was lucky to get four Fingers on one of today's Transatlantic Portkeys. But Madam Malkin's in Diagon is an extremely well-sorted robe shop, so you'll be able to get everything you need this afternoon."

Duh, Buffy thought. Someone go buy him a universal translator - he needs that even more than a new wardrobe.

"And there's a Gladrags in Hogsmeade, the hamlet next to Hogwarts," Willow threw in.

Alarm bells started to ring in Buffy's head. "Hamlet?" she wheezed.

Willow flinched. "Well, it's a tad... smallish. But it has a really cute tea shop, and two pubs... one seems to be the local Bronze during the school year, and the other is said to be... interesting, though the drinks might give you everything from sparkly orange warts to exploding stomach acid."

Buffy's own stomach plummeted, and she looked up when Willow squeezed her hand and smiled encouragingly.

"You'll like it, promise. And if not, don't forget - it's not even a full year."

"Hey, if this doesn't work out, you could always go to Disneyland," Xander offered.

The girls eyed him warily, and he visibly shrunk.

"You mean you don't want to ride Splash Mountain?"

Giles gave him a none-too-gentle shove along the corridor, while Buffy and Willow looked at each other and groaned in unison.

They crossed a huge hall, and Giles steered them towards an entrance that announced KEYPORT - NATIONAL AND TRANSNATIONAL. Leering stone gargoyles were scattered all over the archway which led into an even larger hall, where dozens of wizards and witches in azure robes, winged metal helmets and equally winged gold sandals handed out parchments in front of more gargoyled exits. Buffy flipped a bird at one gargoyle that bent forward to peer into her cleavage so far that tiny splinters dislocated from the archway it was chiselled from. It took the hint and backed off - a little.

"All right," Willow said when they had made their way to the end of a line. "I'll leave now." She threw her arms around Buffy. "Be happy!" she whispered into Buffy's ear.

They stayed like this for a moment, and then Willow enveloped Xander in a bone-crushing hug and whispered something to him as well, too quietly for Buffy to hear. She saw a small, rare smile flicker across his lips.

"You have enough Floo Powder to get back?" Giles asked Willow.

"Yes, no problem," she replied and kissed him on the cheek before drawing back. "Good luck, guys. Owl me occasionally."

There was a wet glint in her eyes that she hid by turning away and quickly striding across the hall back to the exit. Buffy watched her leave with a heavy heart. She already missed Dawn, and realised she was going to miss Willow almost as much. Not to mention the fact that the witch was the only one who actually knew the place they were headed for.

The line moved closer to the desk, and finally Giles told the young woman behind the counter, "Summers, Harris and Giles headed for the Diagon Alley Key at 14.15. We made reservations for a second Summers, but won't need it."

The witch gave him a sickly smile, the feathers on her helm fluttering eagerly.

"Oh, goody," she simpered and tapped what looked like a feather tip down a long parchment list until she found and ticked off their names. She ripped off four pieces of parchment from a big roll, scratched a few words on them with the feather, and stamped three of them with an ornate silver seal. The fourth she handed over to the nearest wall gargoyle, who passed it on to its neighbour, who handed it further down until it reached a desk with the heading 'Last Minute Fingers'. Buffy watched in amazement as the gargoyle behind it knocked the desk wizard on his pointed hat sharply and thrust the paper into his face. She turned away quickly when the transport wench - no, witch - chirped into her ear rather shrilly, "Have a good trip, sirs, madam. Thank-you for Keying with Hermes&Thor Portkeys."

Holding onto their parchments, they were just about to file out through the gargoyle-guarded exit behind the desk when an unpleasant voice stopped them.

"If it isn't Rupert Giles - again!"

Automatically, Buffy whirled around to face the poisonously-saccharine tone of voice, one hand curling around the stake in her pocket. On first sight, the slender figure facing them didn't look like much in the way of a supernatural threat. The huge greenish club-wielding monster behind him, however, did. Giles' hand clamped down on her arm just as she went into fighting stance.

"Security troll," he whispered.

A-ha! Buffy gave the thing a suspicious once-over, and found small orange eyes in a boulder-like head leering down at her. It patted its club suggestively, and Buffy shuddered. What was it with the weird ugly creatures and innuendo? And this one in particular made a Turok-Han supervampire look hot, really.

The little man wore a pinstriped gown with creases sharp enough to cut paper, and when he stared up at Giles, his mouth thinned until it looked like an ink-line above his chin.

"Wimple."

Buffy recognised Giles' 'and by the way, you're mud' voice, one she'd rarely experienced herself, but had heard her Watcher using with Spike quite frequently. She decided to hold on to the stake for good measure.

"And I had so hoped you would not grace our fine enterprise again with your presence, Mr. Giles," the striped creep sneered.

"You'll find my authorisation in perfect order," Giles replied coldly. "In fact, considering that it took me more than a day to book a few simple Fingers, I assume that you've already gone through those authorisation papers with a fine tooth comb."

The little wizard inclined his head. "Knowing your past history of abusing wizarding transport for your own private little designs, Mr. Giles," he scoffed, "you surely won't be surprised to receive our particular attention?"

What the heck is going on with those two? Buffy wondered silently.

"I'm sure you'll find that a teaching contract at Hogwarts is about as reputable as it's going to get." Buffy noticed the smug note in Giles' voice, and watched Wimple crunch up his nose in disgust.

"So you believe that Hogwarts will be more lenient towards your blatant disregard for rules? Yes, I can see why Albus Dumbledore's reputation has suffered in the eyes of the international magical community, when he has been reduced to hire the likes of you. He must indeed grow peculiar in his old age." The man's contemptuous gaze swept over Buffy and Xander.

"I'll be sure to convey your concerns, Wimple," Giles shot back, which produced a visible flinch in the obnoxious wizard. "And now if you would excuse us - we have a Key to catch." Giles shoved by the nuisance and the troll, and Buffy caught Wimple ogling at her outfit with no small amount of disgust.

Ew! Had none of these people ever seen Californian summerwear before? Then she took a long hard look at the milling crowds in floor-length robes and thought, Oh. Right. They haven't.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Xander chuckled. "Your blatant disregard for rules, Giles? Who is he? An old acquaintance from the Seventies?"

Giles slowed his pace a little, a harsh line visible on his forehead.

"I used the Portkey system to collect the prospective slayers this spring," he said grimly. "Oh, it was borderline illegal, and the Department for Disinformation made a horrible fuss about having to hand out a round of Memory Charms." He pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with almost-breaking force. "Wimple got on my case like a Niffler after nuggets-"

"Woah, hold the phone a minute," Buffy interrupted. " A sniffler after nuggets? That's about as clear as instructions in Taiwanese."

Giles sighed. "Nifflers are magical mamals that dig for shiny things," he explained.

"D'you think I can bring one home with me and take it to the Bargain Bin?" Buffy quipped.

Giles raised his eyes to the ceiling with a long-suffering sigh. "No! It would violate Clause 73 of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy. Not to mention that it would take the place apart. As for Wimple," he added bitterly, "it was a matter of life and death, but since the only thing at stake were the lives of Muggle girls, he couldn't care less."

"Is that a common opinion?" Xander asked quietly.

"Too common for my taste," Giles replied and quickened his pace again, obviously unwilling to further get into the topic.

After a few more staircases, they reached a door that sported the same number that was scrawled on their parchments. It led into a tiny room that couldn't possibly accomodate more than half a dozen people; on the bow-legged table in the centre lay what looked like an empty - and slightly crunched up - cigarette pack.

Buffy dumped her duffel to the floor and hrumped.

"Really, Giles," she complained. "I'd have expected broomsticks instead of cancer sticks."

Her Watcher opened his mouth for what looked like a scathing reply when the door banged wide open again and a smallish, round wizard in high-heeled, embroidered cowboy boots with spurs and a considerable pointed hat with gold tassles stormed in, an enormous leather sack slung over his shoulder.

"Ah, so glad there was a last minute spare Finger around," the wizard boomed in a voice vaguely resembling a roaring buffalo. "Bound for Diagon Alley, are you?"

"Er... yes," Giles replied when Buffy just shrugged and pointed at him with a cheerful "Here's the brains of the expedition."

"Great! Loman Humperdinck, saleswizard travelling in Quadpot equipment," the wizard introduced himself, grabbed Buffy's hand and placed a stubbly kiss on her knuckles, leering down at her legs all the while. "Pleasure to meet such a stunning example of witchkind." Buffy seriously considered reconnecting her knuckles with his mouth, slayer-style, when he finally stepped back, grinning so broadly she expected his face to split every moment. "Gents," he greeted, nodding at the men.

Humperdinck dropped his sack to the floor with an audible clank and pulled open the drawstrings to reveal hundreds of miniature cups and balls, painted with all kinds of adventurous designs.

"The finest Quods and Pots that Galleons can buy," he announced proudly. "And great miniaturising spellwork, ain't it?" He turned to round on Xander. "You've played the noble sport at school, I bet, a strapping young man like you!"

Xander blinked at him. "What, crackpot?" he asked innocently, and received a very dirty look. "'Fraid not."

Buffy smothered a giggle behind her hand.

Just then the disembodied head of a witch with an artificial smile under a winged helmet appeared in a corner.

"Honoured witches, gentlewizards, please hang on to your luggage and take hold of your Portkey. It will activate in two minutes sharp. Hermes&Thor wishes you an enjoyable trip."

"Look, loudspeakers with pictures," Xander whispered to Buffy and checked the straps of his backpack.

Buffy grabbed her duffel and looked at the keyhole in the door expectantly. It was - and remained - empty. To her surprise, Giles picked up the cigarette pack from the table and held it out. The saleswizard grabbed his sack, heaved it on his back again with a grunt, and also put a finger on the pack. They looked, Buffy thought, like a demented promotion shot out of E.T.

"Just put a finger on the Portkey," Giles admonished.

"I thought you were going to say pull my finger," Xander quipped.

Giles just shot him a withering glare. Buffy and Xander exchanged a helpless look and put their hands on the cigarette pack as well.

Just when Buffy was ready to pull back and complain about the sheer silliness of the whole thing, a wrenching lurch went through her stomach, as if an invisible hook were rearranging her entrails. She shut her eyes quickly.

"Giles, I think I'm..." Another, equally forceful lurch made her eyes fly open again. "...going to be sick," she finished faintly.

The little room had vanished, and been replaced by a vast, bustling hall, cordoned off with multi-coloured ropes along the walls. She noticed that they were surrounded by a pale orange one, whose ends now rolled themselves up to allow moving out. Watching the rope sway like a snake at a fair did nothing for the disturbed tranquility of Buffy's stomach contents. Xander, she noticed, looked green around the gills as well, while the only effect on Giles seemed that his glasses were a bit askew.

"You guys never do things the easy way around here, do you?" Xander asked when his stomach contents finally settled.

"You call a Connector flight easy?" Giles yelped.

Humperdinck stared from one to the other without comprehension before turning to Buffy and pulling a card from his pocket with a flourish.

"Distinct pleasure travelling with you, m'am," he barked. "If you are interested in some quality Quodpot equipment, or just want to go for a buttermalt, here's my fireplace location."

He stomped off with one last glare at Xander, and Buffy stared down at the card between her fingers. The wizard's tiny photograph grinned up at her chest and smacked its lips in a very disconcerting fashion. Buffy screeched and dropped it. The fall did stop the smacking, but not the leer. She prodded the paper suspiciously with the toe of her pumps and glared accusingly at Giles.

"Wizarding photographs capture not only the image, but also part of the personality," he explained and picked up the card.

"Yeah, I can see that!" Buffy exclaimed. She grabbed the card from his hand, scowled down at it and finally shoved it into the pocket of her bag.

"OK, what-"

"Ah, Professors Summers and Giles, and Mr Harris, I presume?" a voice piped up from somewhere behind Xander's back. They turned to see a tiny wizard with a jauntily perched hat beaming up at them. "I'm Filius Flitwick - Professor Dumbledore sent me to settle you in with the Ministry of Magic as quickly as possible." He shook first Buffy's hand, then Giles'. "It's always a pleasure to meet new colleagues."

Finally, he smiled cheerfully at Xander. "And I'm sure it'll do the students a wealth of good to have a staff member closer to them in age, Mr Harris. So," he added with a sweeping gesture, "let's take you up to the Ministry. Albus has everything arranged already - is that your whole party?"

Just as she nodded, Buffy again felt a sting at the thought of being separated from Dawn for almost a year. She hated leaving people behind. Sometimes it meant never seeing them again. Alive that was. And then you never got to tell them how much you... She shoved the thought away with some effort. No use in going there, she berated herself inwardly. New world, remember?

"Then if you'll follow me..." Flitwick bounced off towards the end of the hall, where a number of ornate elevators beckoned.

"So you're teaching at that school as well - Hoggards?" Buffy inquired as she hurried to catch up with the little wizard. He smiled over his shoulder.

"Hogwarts," he corrected. "I'm teaching Charms. In fact, I had wondered if between us and some other committed professors we could revive the Duelling Club - it's an ancient Hogwarts tradition, though fallen into disregard after a couple of..." he hesitated, obviously weighing diplomacy against honesty, "... not quite so effective Defence instructors. But in troubled times like these, the students would certainly benefit from it."

"Um... sure," Buffy stuttered and poked Giles none-too-gently in the ribs with her elbow. He replied with a small shake of head and an expressive shrug.

"Oh my - I really shouldn't press that on you before you've even had a chance to settle in," the small wizard apologised and stopped in front of the elevators. "Here we are - none of you has a wand to register, I believe, so we can go right up."

Together with a small crowd of witches and wizards they piled into one of the huge elevators. British wizard fashion, Buffy noted, seemed to run to black or pinstriped robes and pointed hats. She failed to see even one bonnet on a witch.

A violet paper airplane landed on Xander's head with a 'woosh', and took off again after disentangling itself from his hair. He followed its course open-mouthed, but none of the wizards paid it any heed. A female voice announced the different levels, but was nearly drowned out in the din of chattering voices.

"...yet another lawsuit against the ban on flying carpets..."

"...four Welsh Green eggs crammed into her bloody baby buggy, I'm not having you on..."

"...fire-breathing street lamp right outside the Savoy, I thought poor Arthur would die of heart failure..."

"...always done up with glamour charms bordering on Dark Arts level, the floozy..."

Why the hell did I let Giles talk me into this? Buffy wailed mentally, not for the first time that day.

When the lift announced something that sounded like "Apartment for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures", Flitwick tugged on Buffy's sleeve. "That's us!"

They forced their way outside, and Giles stared around him in confusion. "Magical Creatures?"

Flitwick looked down at the floor with a shifty expression. "Well, there was a spot of bother with the Hogwarts governors about Professor Summers' appointment," he confessed after a moment's hesitation. "You come from an old wizarding family, Mr Giles, and your... condition won't have an impact on the eligibility of your teaching. As member of the assistant staff, Mr Harris' employment was of course at the headmaster's discretion." His cheeks flushed slightly as he looked at Buffy.

"But there was no way the school governors would have sanctioned the appointment of a Muggle to the Defence against the Dark Arts position," he continued. "So we had to establish, well, that Miss Summers is not a Muggle." He smiled at Buffy with a faintly smug expression. "In fact, as the 'Vampire Slayer' with certified powers, you certainly qualify as a magical creature, and as such you are qualified to teach at Hogwarts. There have been numerous precedents, and the governors won't be able to veto your appointment once you've been properly registered."

He gestured at a large door where a sign read: DEPARTMENT FOR THE REGULATION AND CONTROL OF MAGICAL CREATURES - BEING DIVISION.

Buffy frowned at him severely. "I really don't take to well to being regulated and controlled. Or being a being."

"Oh, it's no more than a formality, I assure you, Professor."

It certainly would take some time to get used to her sudden promotion from lowly Mina Harker to Professor Van Helsing of vampire slaying, Buffy decided.

She rubbed her aching forehead. "Please, call me Buffy," she replied. "Or make that 'she who'll be after you with a big pointy stake' if it isn't a formality," she added under her breath, but loud enough for the small wizard to hear.

Giles gave her a scandalised look, but Flitwick's mouth quirked in amusement. Buffy glared at them both with narrowed eyes before hesitantly stepping through the door.

Behind it was a large office, where a woman was seated at a desk on the back wall. A veritable flotilla of paper planes swirled around at the ceiling, and from time to time the witch waved her wand and one of them shot down to stick to the wooden tip like a butterfly pinned on a needle. In the middle of the room stood a wizard in a battered leather overcoat with innumerable pockets. His face was grizzled, and a thin scar ran from his temple down to his mouth, where it disappeared in a short grey beard.

Flitwick closed the door behind them and beamed at the man.

"Mr Scamander," he squeaked, "it's a pleasure to see you again." They shook hands enthusiastically, with the smaller wizard almost dancing on his toes. "I've read the reviews for your recent essay with Hogwarts' own Aloysius Kettleburn - the Monster Society Annual was positively ecstatic about From Chizpurfle to Chimaera: New Approaches to Magizoology." He turned to Buffy, who pulled a face.

What does a cheese puff have to do with zoology?

"Let me introduce Newton Scamander, world-renowned expert on magical creatures. His Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them has been the standard text for Care of Magical Creatures in all English-speaking schools of wizardry since 1928."

Scamander gave Buffy a broad smile.

"I'd been honoured when my old friend Albus offered me the chance to add a new species of magical being to my list of discoveries," he boomed, "but I certainly did not expect one that could put a Veela to shame."

Buffy returned the smile shakily. "Thanks - I think." He shook her hand vigorously while Flitwick finished the introductions. She would have to ask Giles later whether 'Veela' qualified as a compliment or insult.

"Newt - meet Mr Giles and Mr Harris, who will also work at Hogwarts this year."

"Giles?" Scamander asked. "The Watcher chap? I got your report about the Slayer species from Albus. Excellent piece of research - concise, precise and vivid, not like the long-winded, bone-dry stuff the Ministry churns out."

To her delight, Buffy watched her Watcher blush and stammer his thanks, and shared a conspirative grin with Xander. The "Hrump!" that sounded from behind the office desk was perceptible only with Slayer hearing. Buffy glanced at the witch behind the desk curiously.

"But let's get you registered, Professor Summers," Scamander said, following her gaze, and led her over to the desk. Behind them, Flitwick conjured three plush stools for himself, Giles and Xander.

The witch behind the registration desk was pale, with bulging eyes and a lacy pink bow in her hair that clashed horribly with her features. Her mouth was wide, with a distinct downward curve. In combination with the protruding eyes, she very much resembled a toad. A very, very morose toad. She alternately shot disgusted looks at Buffy and even more venomous ones at Flitwick.

Scamander pulled out a chair for Buffy to sit and folded his long limbs onto the seat next to her. A large piece of parchment, an ink pot and an elegant peacock feather sat on the desktop. "Ready?"

Buffy nodded hesitantly.

"Registration of the Slayer subspecies," Scamander dictated.

Great, I don't even qualify as a full species, Buffy thought with knitted brows, and then flinched when the feather rose from the table top with an eager wriggle of its plume, dipped into the ink well, and began to scratch Scamander's words onto the parchment in florid letters. Noting her reaction, the old wizard patted her hand indulgently, while the woman shot her another contemptuous look.

"As witnesses have assembled: Newton Scamander, creatures expert..."

"Dolores Jane Umbridge, assigned Registrar to the Beings Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures..." the toady woman said in a surprisingly girlish voice, lips pursed in an even more severe downcurl than before. Both turned to look at Buffy expectantly.

"Uh... Buffy Summers?" she stuttered.

"... certified Slayer," Scamander finished proudly.

"You are required to answer - truthfully - the questions posed to you by the Acting Registrar, slayer. Actions to the contrary will make you liable to legal prosecution under the Code for the Comprehensive Identification of Non-Wizard Part-Humans," toad woman haughtily informed the space above Buffy's shoulder. "Do you comprehend those regulations, or will you need Mr Scamander to interpret for you?"

"I'm suddenly glad I took psychology instead of law classes at college," Buffy replied dryly. "But yeah, I got the gist."

"Be sure you do," Umbridge emphasised ominously and poked at the quill. "Let's start with your subspecies' general attributes... Your preferred habitat?"

"The mall?" Buffy's lips quirked at Xander's chuckle and Giles' suppressed groan.

Toad woman's glare was dripping with venom when Scamander coughed and pointed out, "None specified."

"Diet?"

"Most of the time," Buffy confessed. "But anything but Burgers if not."

The quill shivered anxiously before writing out her reply.

"Natural enemies?"

"Vampires," Buffy replied reflexively, before adding, "and just about everything that tries to destroy life as we know it."

"Breeding?"

"I beg your pardon?" Buffy snarled. Too much was too much. "My parents taught me manners, just so you know."

Toad woman gave her a nasty smirk. "I meant, do you bear life young or reproduce magically?" Her hand closed tightly around her wand as she spoke.

Buffy rose from her chair and leaned across the table until she was only inches away from the protruding eyes. "How about you apologise for your 'lack of breeding' before I take that stick and feed it to you?" she inquired sweetly.

"Ladies!" Scamander interjected. "I believe it's the Beasts instead of Beings Questionnaire you've got in front of you, Madam Umbridge. I'm sure -" he paused to emphasise the last word with a warning growl, "-you did not mean to give offence."

"Certainly not," Umbridge simpered with supreme insincerity, and Buffy longingly pictured punching her until that ugly bow fell off.

"New slayers are predestined magically, and become 'active' at the death of the current one, if I read Mr Giles' report correctly," Scamander dictated in a final voice and caught the quill's feathery end before it could launch into the if-clause. "I believe that would be all," he added forcefully enough to shut the witch up.

He turned the quill and signed the paper quickly, followed by toad woman, who gave them both a cold look. After Buffy had clumsily signed with the squirming quill, Umbridge rolled up the parchment and made for the door. There, she stopped to glower at Flitwick.

"Hogwarts is really going to the Crups with Firebolt-speed," she snarled.

"How nice, then, that you won't have to watch it. I'm glad to see that the Ministry found you an appropriate interim position before your transfer to the Centaur Liaison Office," the tiny wizard replied sweetly. Umbridge went bone-white from one second to the next and stormed out without another word.

Faced with four quizzical expressions, Flitwick shrugged. "She was Pr... Buffy's... predecessor at Hogwarts, and anything but a success story."

"A thoroughly unpleasant person," Scamander tutted and turned to Buffy again. "I hope this encounter has not disenchanted you with the wizarding world. Perhaps we can speak more about your past adventures as the slayer at another time, Professor? Porpentina and I would love to entertain you over at our place in Devon if your schedule allows it."

He fetched a large gold pocket watch from his coat which started to squeak in an agitated voice as soon as they looked at it. "Oops, late again - I'm to meet a prospective client who's prepared to put up a considerable sum of galleons for an expedition to capture a Crumple-Horned Snorkack." He shook Buffy's hand once more. "I will owl you about our little chat, if I may?"

Buffy nodded and watched him stride out of the room.

"Galleons - that reminds me..." Flitwick interrupted cheerfully, rummaged in his pocket and took out three heavy round purses of black satin embroidered with an elaborate silver crest of stylised animals. "Albus insisted on you having an advance on your fist salary. He's also opened accounts for Mr Harris and Prof... Buffy... with Gringotts Wizarding Bank." He looked at Giles hesitantly.

"We assumed that your family account is still active, even though the legal issue over your inheritance is still... pending?"

Giles frowned darkly. "Yes. My cousin Jonathan Parkinson has called me unfit of being heir to the Giles family on grounds that I have turned my back on the magical community, but it's really only a veiled reference to the Bill for the exclusion of squibs from the inheritance of a wizarding family that the Wizengamot has been debating for years."

"It would be a black day for wizardkind if that would ever become law!" Flitwick's outrage was palpable. "We've turned a blind eye to such discriminatory policies for far too long."

"So far I had rather thought 'good riddance' to all of it," Giles confessed. "But while I have not been on the best of terms with my father, I would hate to see Aunt Beatrice and the Parkinsons walk off with the Giles family fortune."

"Oh, I'm sure Albus would be delighted to lend a hand in the matter," Flitwick assured. "Still, the advance should allow you to cover the essentials and pick out some robes for our Muggle-world friends." He beamed at Xander and Buffy again. "I have made reservations for you in the Leaky Cauldron for the night - it was too short notice to get a Portkey for Hogwarts for you, and of course having staff members on the Hogwarts Express will provide an additional degree of security. Not that we expect any dodgy business, but with You-Know-Who on the rise..."

He drew his wand from his belt and raised it dramatically. "I'll see you tomorrow evening at Hogwarts, then." The wand swung down, and he disappeared into thin air with a soft 'pop'.

Buffy stared at the spot open-mouthed, and decided that she would never, ever, get used to this vanishing business. Then she looked down at the heavy pouch in her hand and peeked inside, only to be rewarded with the enticing glint of gold. She linked arms with Giles and Xander and smiled.

"I think we deserve some entertainment after this," she announced, ignoring the horror dawning on their faces. "Let's go robe shopping!"

This wizard subculture, she mused as she dragged her reluctant victims out towards the elevators, was rougher than expected, and she would have to take Giles aside and really pull some worms out of his nose soonish. But still... it would be nice not to have to save the world for once!

~~~ tbc. ~~~