The Slayer and the Squib

Chapter 4 ~ Welcome to Hell, Pardon, Hogwarts!

"Wow!"

Giles smirked proudly when he observed Buffy's awed expression, and leaned back in the seat of the carriage. Of course, the first glimpse of Hogwarts castle was enough to stun anyone, wizard and Muggle alike. And discreet Muggle-Unrepelling Charms on the two purses Flitwick had given Buffy and Xander the day before ensured that these two particular Muggles were able to enjoy the view. And born Squib or not, Giles loved to see his usually cocky slayer impressed speechless by one of the landmarks of the wizarding world. It was a rare experience.

He had seen pictures of Hogwarts, of course, ever since his childhood addiction to the Tiny Thomas Magnus Goes to School picture books. But seeing the castle in person, even if it was from a bouncing carriage drawn by skeletal horses, was special.

The castle overlooked the surrounding landscape like a crown placed on a dark silk sheet; not a warlike fortress as one might expect from a structure so efficient at protecting its occupants, but a playful, multi-turreted masterpiece by an eccentric architect. Magical - there was no better word for it.

Xander, who had been very quiet ever since he'd returned to their compartment and had only once leaned forward to ask Giles over Buffy's dozing form, "What's Slytherin?", hung out of the other window and gawked just as much as the slayer.

Like a swarm of black beetles, the carriages were rumpling along the side of a lake that spread before the castle. A flotilla of flimsy boats was accompanying them on the water, obscured a little by the drizzle of rain outside.

"I'd just feel better if those skeleton horses came with a driver," Xander muttered, looking almost as green as he had when they had dragged his hung-over self out of the Leaky Cauldron this morning.

"It's magic, Xander," Buffy quipped.

"Yeah, well, it feels like going on a cruise with you behind the wheel," Xander quipped back, and Giles had to admit - secretly, of course - that it wasn't an invalid comparison.

Buffy huffed, as she had done oftentimes since trying one of the Huffing Cream Puffs Xander had brought back from his expedition on the Hogwarts Express. She kept her nose pressed to the glass of the carriage window, though.

As the carriages approached the castle walls until the grey stone boulders filled Giles' whole field of vision, a twinge of dread mixed with his anticipation. He'd grown up to the unvoiced but poignant disappointment of his family because the world symbolised by the castle whose main courtyard they were now entering was not his heritage. His lips thinned, set in grim determination. He would prove them wrong!

The terrible horses came to a stop on the cobblestones of the yard as soundlessly as they had galloped, and students spilled from the carriages. When Giles threw open the door, he observed how some of the children skirted precariously close to the deadly black hooves, but the animals - if they were animals - twisted their bony limbs out of the way to avoid collision.

As they started to drag out their trunks, a swarm of tiny students surged up from the mooring platform where the flimsy boats, now empty, were swaying. They were herded with shouts of "Firs' years, this way!" by a huge figure in a fur overcoat.

"Another security troll?" Buffy asked.

Giles recalled one of the articles he'd read on the train.

"It's probably the Care of Magical Creatures professor," he replied. "There was an article in the Daily Prophet two years ago claiming he had giant blood."

"Yeah, I can see why he'd be good at dealing with magical creatures," Xander threw in. "I bet he just wrestles them down." Xander slapped his trunk when it gave him another ardent look from under his arm.

"He's not gonna try and take care of me, right?" Buffy scowled. "Being a newly-appointed creature and all..."

Giles just snickered, feeling intense pity for the poor professor should he try.

They unloaded their possessions from the carriage in the constant drizzle, shouldered their trunks and made to follow the teeming, chattering mass of black-clad children into the castle. At the entrance, a tall, intimidating witch caught their eye over the crowd and walked over briskly.

"Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress," she introduced herself with a faintly Scottish accent.

Giles shook her hand, and decided that her firm grip fitted her no-nonsense attitude.

"Rupert Giles," he introduced himself.

"Minerva, please," she replied. "The staff doesn't believe in formalities."

"Gladly - Minerva," Giles said politely, and winced inwardly at the thought of being 'Rupert' for a year or more. He hated that name!

"Alexander Harris, ma'am," he heard Xander say, and couldn't suppress a slight lifting of eyebrow. He could count the numbers of occasions where Xander had volunteered his full first name on the fingers of one hand. The witch graced Xander with a smile that brought to life a number of small wrinkles around her eyes, and made Giles add another twenty years to his first age estimate.

Then McGonagall took Buffy's hand and a mutually probing look passed between the two women. "Elizabeth Anne Summers, I believe?"

"Um, yes," the Slayer stuttered. "Everybody calls me Buffy, though."

McGonagall frowned slightly. "Perhaps we should keep to the name on your application papers," she proposed in a voice that brooked no contradiction. Buffy scowled at Giles - who had faked said application papers in her name, of course - in outrage. "I'm afraid," the Deputy Headmistress added, "that one of Hogwarts' senior house-elves is called 'Puffy', and we wouldn't want to give the students ideas, would we?"

Her stern expression softened a little. "Miss Rosenberg told us quite a bit about you during her time here. How sad to hear she couldn't accompany you - a very talented witch, and so very studious. We had to fetch her out of the library for meals more than once. I hope you'll find Hogwarts' resources as helpful as she did."

"Uh, I'm sure," Buffy replied with a terrified expression.

"Anyhow, just leave your trunks - the house-elves will take them to your rooms directly." McGonagall paused and looked at Xander. "Your colleague, Argus Filch, is lodged on the ground level off the stairs down to the dungeons, but Albus and I thought that you'd probably prefer to live up in the South-West tower with your friends?"

One corner of Xander's mouth lifted in a smile that made Giles' neck prickle with foreboding.

"Off the dungeons will be perfect," he replied determinedly. "It'll save me a lot of running up and down the stairs, I guess. And I can always visit, right?"

"The Welcoming Feast is about to begin," McGonagall announced as they trudged behind her through the corridors, "and Headmaster Dumbledore would like to welcome you afterwards with an informal gathering in his study." She paused and rounded a corridor, pointing at a wide archway leading up to great double doors. "If you'll just follow this hallway you'll come directly into the Great Hall. The staff table is up on the dais - I'm afraid I'll have to dash and prepare the First Years for the Sorting." With an apologetic smile she turned and sped down an adjoining staircase.

"What's Sorting?" Buffy inquired. "You mean they only tell the kids now whether they have enough magic to stay?"

"Not quite - they're Sorted into school houses," Giles explained, racking his brain. "Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, and I've forgot the name of the fourth... it's not particularly popular."

"Didn't you say Slithering was the one nobody liked?" Xander wondered.

Giles' brow furrowed. "I guess nobody likes Slytherin, but still - better infamous than overlooked."

He stopped a few metres from the entrance to the Hall and pulled Buffy and Xander behind the statue of a big wizard with braided beard and an oily smile, even in marble. 'Siegfried the Smarmy', a tag introduced him.

"Look," he whispered to his two confused friends, "I'd wanted to give you this beforehand, but everything's happened so fast..." He pulled out two wands from the near-bottomless pits of his magician's cloak, and handed the longer, darker one to Buffy, the lighter to Xander.

"They belonged to my mother and my brother," he explained detachedly, surprised at how little the memory meant to him now. "Mahogany and unicorn hair," he pointed at Buffy's, realising that it was a combination spectacularly unsuited to her mercurial personality. "And birchwood and Erumpent hair," he told Xander. "My parents always suspected that my brother would have been a much better wizard with a less exotic wand, but he refused to even try another after seeing this one."

They eyed the wands with some suspicion. "Of course it's unlikely you would even get them to spark, being non-wizards," Giles pointed out, "but it'll help you to blend in much more easily". Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Perhaps it isn't wise to openly point out you can't do magic."

He noticed that Xander was looking at the floor shiftily and was shuffling his feet at that.

"Feel free to experiment with them, though," he amended. That prompted memories of the endless hours he'd spent in his bedroom as a boy, waving his wand, concentrating until his head hurt, and finally flinging the wand against he wall in tears when no sign of the magic that might still qualify him for Hogwarts appeared.

"Anyhow," he finished on a lighter note, "let's get a move on - I've heard that the Hogwarts Welcome Feast is quite spectacular."

They rounded the Smarmy and walked through the entranceway to the Great Hall, only to stop and gasp in awe. The Hall was huge, lit by floating torches, and the ceiling showed the translucent dark-blue of a summer night, with the occasional early star blinking sleepily in the artificial sky. If Giles didn't know that they hadn't come up any staircases, the illusion would have misled him.

"Wow!" Xander whispered.

"They have better weather inside than out," Buffy finally managed.

Four long tables decked in green, blue, yellow and red took up almost the whole length of the hall, and most chairs were already occupied. Giles fought a blush as numerous pairs of eyes fell on the trio that was so obviously rooted to their spots and gawking. To say that they stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb would be the understatement of the century, Giles thought, and being the object of such intense curiosity was more than a tad intimidating. In his library, he'd dealt with smaller groups of teenagers only, and had at least been able to retreat behind the shelves. Even having whole layers full of vampires glowering at him had not unnerved him quite as much as being stared at by hundreds of students, God-knew-how-many of whom he was supposed to teach.

Buffy tilted her chin in the direction of the fifth, much smaller table situated diagonally on a narrow dais.

"Up and at 'em!" she grinned. Giles lifted an eyebrow in response and grinned back.

Flanking the petite slayer, Giles and Xander followed her up the five steps to the dais. Little Filius Flitwick waved cheerfully as they approached.

A tall, ancient wizard with long-flowing white hair and an incredible amount of beard occupied the middle seat of the staff table. Albus Dumbledore rose when they came up.

"Ah, our dear new colleagues!" he beamed and shook their hands over the table, miraculously without tangling his beard in the cutlery. "I was so glad when Filius told me you had arrived in good spirits." He slipped his pince-nez down his long nose to peer at them more closely. "My dear Miss Summers, I'm most enchanted to make the acquaintance of such a famous champion of the Light." He winked at Xander. "And Mr Harris, I hope you'll enjoy the wizarding world and our humble castle. Perhaps you'll be able to assist Mr Giles in introducing a cross-cultural aspect to the school's Muggle Studies programme?"

Xander returned the smile happily - another one to fall to Albus Dumbledore's famous charm, Giles thought wryly.

As if the Headmaster had been reading his thoughts - well, maybe he had - one of Dumbledore's eyebrows quirked, and he smiled gently. Again, the Watcher felt the strange compulsion that had made him leave behind the home he'd made for himself in California to follow the old man's call.

"My dear Rupert, it is good to see you back in the wizarding world, and that you've managed to convince your friends to join us as well. I trust there was not trouble with the Castle's Muggle-Repellant Charms?"

Giles shook his head, but before he could stammer a greeting, Dumbledore waved his wand. The staff table shuddered and lengthened, new chairs, plates and goblets miraculously appearing before them.

"Sit, sit," the old wizard urged. "The Sorting is about to start, and there will be food soon. We'll have a little reception for you after the feast - we can continue our conversation then."

Buffy took the chair Dumbledore pulled out next to him, while the Headmaster leaned over to introduce Xander to a vicious-looking man with grey hair, a patched leather cloak, and an expression to send vampires running. If that was to be Xander's colleague, the Watcher thought with dread, he would owe the boy a boatload of favours to make up for dragging him here.

Just then the doors to the hall opened wide, and Minerva McGonagall walked in, followed by the beginners like a duck mother with her brood. The giant Care of Magical Creatures professor brought up the rear and made his way to the staff table, where he sat and eclipsed Professor Flitwick so completely that Giles worried for a moment that he'd sat down on the little teacher and just squashed him. But no - they were talking.

The Deputy Headmistress carried a three-legged stool to the front of the room, and placed an extremely scruffy hat on it. When it appeared that all eyes were glued to it, the hat shuffled a couple of times and declared in a booming, gruff voice:

"Last year I warned of discord
With many an eloquent word.
This year, since no one seemed to listen,
I'll just go ahead and sort
The loyal into Hufflepuff,
Into Ravenclaw the bright,
The cunning into Slytherin,
And into Gryffindor the right.
If you think life is that easy,
The future sure looks grim.
But while I hope it makes you queasy,
I'll now kick back and shut my brim."

Everybody just gaped at the hat when it fell silent, and after a long moment Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles thoughtfully and began to clap. The hat received a half-hearted applause, which did not prompt it to an encore.

"Gruff little blighter," Xander murmured into Buffy's ear.

Finally, McGonagall read the first name from a roll of parchment in her hand, and handed the hat to "Avrill, Cygnus," who obediently put it on his head and received a snotty "Hufflepuff!" in return. The table on the far right exploded in yells and applause, and Giles slapped his forehead in exasperation - Hufflepuff! Rhymes with 'duffer', how could I've forgotten! The catcalls were repeated on the far left when "Baddock, Peregrine" became the first Slytherin, followed by "Fawcett, Lucas," who went to the Gryffindor table.

Giles' eyes wandered over the small, anxious faces of the waiting first years, and he consoled himself with the thought that Muggle Studies was reserved for third years and older, so his woeful unfamiliarity with (and not to mention loathing for) sub-teenage children would be a moot point.

One of his eyebrows rose as "Jugson, Elinor" was sorted into Ravenclaw. Xander clapped more vigorously than ever before at that and gave the tiny pig-tailed girl a thumbs-up across the hall. She blushed and scooted over to the blue-and-bronze decked table, where she almost vanished behind the tablecloth.

After "Zenda, Morgan" had become the last Slytherin, Professor McGonagall set the stool and grouchy hat in a corner and took her seat at the staff table. Then the Headmaster got up, the end of his beard dangling in his still-empty golden soup bowl.

"Now that everybody has found a home, let me quickly introduce a few additions to the staff before we get to the food." A few scattered groans could be heard, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"First, we are happy to have with us Mr Alexander Harris, who will assist our own Argus Filch in the upkeep of Hogwarts Castle." Giles noted an amused twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes as he gestured for Xander to rise. "He has not yet provided his own list of proscribed items, but may of course do so at any time."

The remark produced gales of laughter, and was quite obviously something like a running gag. Filch threw Dumbledore a murderous look, and the green-and-silver table to the left kept a sullen quiet, several of its occupants shooting furious glares at Xander. Giles couldn't help but wonder just what his friend had got himself into in the half-hour he'd been out of sight on the train.

"Since Professor Craven has decided to leave us at the end of the previous school year to battle his own demons," Dumbledore continued, "let me introduce to you our new Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Giles."

Giles rose, feeling uncomfortably clumsy and far too hot in his skin, and accepted his polite, but by no means enthusiastic applause, again exempting the Slytherin table. Unpleasant bunch! he frowned inwardly, not expecting to find many of them among his pupils-to-be.

"And finally," the Headmaster concluded happily, "we have Professor Elizabeth Summers, who will bring you up-to-date to the practical aspects of Defence Against the Dark Arts, which have so been neglected over the last year."

With nervous Bambi-esque eyes, Buffy got up to face the hall. The applause that greeted her was by far the most spirited yet, and approval was especially hearty from adolescent male students. When she'd slumped back into her chair, Dumbledore announced:

"And now, without further ado, tuck in!"

As if on command, the gleaming gold plates and goblets filled with food and drink. The familiarity of the dishes made both Giles' eyes and his mouth water. He reached for the nearest plate. Mint humbugs! Life couldn't get much better.

He piled several on his plate and started to eat while all over the hall the students fell to with all the ravenous enthusiasm of a werewolf snacking on a kindergarten. Busy for a long time with savouring the various delicacies, Giles noted that Xander, too, seemed wholly entranced by the contents of his plate. Buffy, on the other hand, was busy cutting a lone chipolata into thin slices next to an inordinate amount of green salad. Her expression was haunted.

"If we eat like this every day, I'll be looking as if I was about to 'bear young' in no time," she grumbled.

A throaty chuckle from across the table made them look up. A tall woman with a grey crew-cut and stunning golden eyes grinned at them.

"We'll have to take you out on a broom, then, dear," she chuckled. "There's no better way to stay in shape. We've got an amateur Quidditch side organised in Hogsmeade, and you're most welcome to join." The hawk-like eyes wandered over Buffy's figure. "You've got the build of a Seeker, Chaser maybe." The woman offered her hand across the table. "Wanda Hooch, flying instructor. May I call you Elizabeth?"

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, and closed it again, obviously recalling Puffy the House-Elf.

"Sure," she replied brightly, only to whisper into Giles' ear when Hooch's attention turned back to her food, "Over my dead body am I flying on a phallic symbol and playing with balls and cauldrons!"

"Balls, bats and hoops - it's Quidditch, not Quodpot," Giles sniggered.

"Oh, yeah, that makes it so different, then!" she growled.

Dinner proper was followed by dessert, and Giles watched Buffy's agonised mental struggles for a good ten minutes, before she finally succumbed to a treacle tart with a guilty expression that transformed into sheer bliss after the first bite.

"I figure it's magical food," she mused aloud. "Maybe they've found a way to make it less fattening."

One look at a chubby dark-haired boy over at the Gryffindor table made Giles doubt that, but was he going to be the one to break it to her? Not on a snow day in hell!

...

After the plates were finally cleared away and everyone - even the Headmaster - had acquired the dazed expression of sacrificial animals having been hit on the head with a hammer, the hall began to empty. It was Professor Flitwick, who had chatted animatedly with Xander during dinner, who led them to the Headmaster's study. Giles was so full he felt like having to take up Quidditch himself, airsickness or not.

Dumbledore's retreat was located at the very top of one of the highest towers, accessible through a wizarding escalator, and guarded by another one of those stone gargoyles the American Ministry of Magic was so fond of. It had better manners, though, and passed up the opportunity to leer down Buffy's cleavage as they walked by.

The office itself was crammed with books and a variety of magical artefacts that Giles couldn't identify. In one corner a tousled, red-golden bird swayed on its perch. Just as Giles observed it, another feather fell from its mangy tail and drifted gently onto the pile below. Despite the close quarters, a small table had been cleared and filled with an assortment of goblets and tea utensils. The walls were covered with life-sized paintings of witches and wizards, and McGonagall stood next to one showing a middle-aged, vaguely sinister-looking wizard, with whom she was conversing in low tones. Giles, who had been surrounded by painted ancestors throughout his childhood, did not start at the sight, but his two companions froze in their tracks.

"Amazing!" Xander whispered.

"Awful!" Buffy exclaimed. When two pairs of eyes landed on her in confusion, she elaborated, "Tartan plaid!" They followed her glance and found it glued in terror on McGonagall's off-duty robes. "That woman's a supernatural anti-fashion terrorist."

Giles sighed and Xander manfully suppressed his snicker as the woman in question threw them a suspicious glance. The Headmaster himself stood behind his desk, and smiled at them while speaking with a slender man in shabby robes, who looked slightly exhausted, and worried.

"... Poppy wanted him in the hospital wing at least for tonight, but you know how he is," he said as Giles wound his way over. "When he Flooed into Headquarters and landed at my feet I thought he was dead..."

Dumbledore put a hand on the man's arm to let him know they had company, and he fell silent.

"Ah, I'm glad you could make it," he said. "Let me introduce you to Remus Lupin, who will take over the theoretical aspects of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus, meet Elizabeth Anne Summers, your colleague."

Lupin smiled at her, and his drawn, nondescript face lightened up into something that was almost handsome as he did so.

"Great to meet you!" Buffy exclaimed. "Please call me Buffy." She said it with a smug smile and a 'So there!' look at the Deputy Headmistress, who stared back with a frown.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement as he reached out and took a piece of cloth from McGonagall. To Giles' surprise, it was the Sorting Hat.

"Now, since it's always possible that a member of the staff will have to fill in as an emergency head of house," the Headmaster said, "we usually hold a private Sorting for those staff members who haven't attended Hogwarts as students." He held the hat out to Xander. "Would you like to go first, Alexander?"

Xander took the filthy hat gingerly and sunk down on one of the antique chairs before putting it on. For a moment, he flinched and his eyes went wide, and then he listened with an expression of pure concentration.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat cried after a few long moments. Xander grinned apologetically at Giles, shrugged and handed the hat over to Buffy.

She eyed the dirty piece of felt with disgust and then put it on her head, only to snatch it off again after a few seconds, glaring at it furiously.

"I do not have a mind like a bitch!"

"Witch!" the hat squeaked.

"Oh." Buffy blushed. "Ok then." With one last suspicious look at the hat, she banged it back onto her head.

It deliberated a bit, before muttering, "Gryffindor."

No, it didn't surprise Giles at all.

"Well, well," the Headmaster uttered happily, and took the hat from a still somewhat embarrassed Buffy. "Your turn, Rupert."

It was a bit too small for Giles' head, but made itself comfortable on his hair after a little shuffle.

'My, what an interesting mind,' it nattered. Giles had been told by his brother how the Sorting Hat worked - "...can tell you, you'll never go there in your life, Rupes!" - but hearing its voice whispering right into his head still felt strange. 'Extremely loyal, and far less paranoid than others I could name,' the hat groused. 'Brave, too, and yet cunning enough not to rush blindly into danger... You are a challenge, Mr Giles. Any preferences on your part?'

Well, Giles mused, somewhat mollified, maybe I'm a Squib, but at least I have a brain.

Most of my family were Ravenclaws, he thought back. And... he blushed slightly, and I'd rather not be Hufflepuff, if it can be avoided.

The hat chuckled. 'For that, you'd almost deserve Slytherin. But I think you'd be suited better for - "Ravenclaw!"

"Congratulations!" Filius Flitwick grinned as Giles handed the hat back to Dumbledore, who hung it on a nail on the wall.

"Excellent!" the Headmaster exclaimed and passed around teacups and goblets of butterbeer. "Now that the formalities are all settled, let me again welcome all of you to Hogwarts." He paused and smiled, a bit slyly, Giles thought. "Of course I did not ask you to join us completely without an ulterior motive," he admitted. "With the renewed threat of Voldemort hanging over our heads, we are grateful for any assistance. According to an old prophecy, the boy with the power to defeat Voldemort is among our students right now, and the Dark Lord will stop at nothing to destroy him."

"A teenage boy slayer with a prophecy on his head?" Buffy mused. "Poor kid! That sounds very unpleasantly familiar."

Dumbledore nodded sadly, a sentiment Giles could very much sympathise with. He could only hope that this prophecy did not call for the death of the young slayer as a price for victory...

"So it was my hope that you would be able to provide young Harry Potter with an additional layer of protection," the Headmaster explained.

"Potter?" Xander threw in unexpectedly. "Sullen, angry kid with black hair and glasses?"

"You've met?" the Headmaster inquired.

"Ran into him on the train," Xander replied with a careless shrug and a carefully bland expression that sent all of Giles' alarm bells off.

"Moreover," Dumbledore said, "we may have to draw on your special field of expertise. According to our... sources... from inside Voldemort's ranks, we've learned that one stronghold of Death Eater recruitment are the mountain regions of the Balkans - Albania, Romania, Bulgaria. Among the giants predominantly, but those areas are also the heartland of the old vampire clans, and Voldemort had won many of them over to his side during his first reign already. We have to assume the worst, and it seems as if there has been at least one recent incident in Hogsmeade already. The presence of the Slayer, and her Watcher," Dumbledore added, glancing at Giles, "will be invaluable if there are truly vampire-related activities around Hogwarts."

Buffy's face lightened up at that. "You know," she smiled, "after all that magic, an ordinary vampire infestation sounds pretty reassuring."

"Well, it's not quite that simple," Giles started to object when the door opened, and his heart just - stopped.

He stared at the figure in the doorway, and his hand slipped into his pocket for the switchblade that hadn't been there for more than a decade. Familiar lanky black hair, billowing dark robes to put a bird of prey to shame, a crooked beaky nose to match, sallow skin, cruel eyes... Giles experienced a surge of hate so severe it threatened to alternately choke and shake him.

Trembling, he turned to Dumbledore - halfway, since he'd never turn his back to the monster - and said, in a voice far more shaky than he would have liked,

"Sir, this man is a Death Eater!"

"Eww, he's a ghoul?" Buffy exclaimed, disgust written all over her face. Neither Giles nor the newcomer paid her the slightest bit of attention, too busy staring at each other. The tense silence was broken by a short, barking laugh from the man in the doorway.

"What, this is the acquisition you were so smug about, Albus? Ripper Giles and his Girl Who Lived?" The voice was practically dripping with contempt, and Giles shook with rage.

"I'm happy that you've made it back, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. He looked at Buffy and Xander. "This is Professor Severus Snape, our Potions master and head of Slytherin house."

Without taking his eyes of Snape, Giles repeated: "I am positive, Headmaster. Seventeen years ago, before I left Britain, Severus Snape tried to recruit us to the Dark side. He was the Dark Lord's prodigy, and Lucius Malfoy's lapdog. A Death Eater, and a murderer." He injected the last with a similar dose of venom Snape had used.

"Something we have in common, then, don't we?" Snape snarled.

"You twisted bastard!" Giles shouted. "You gave us that book, with the compliments of your 'Master'. Without you, Eyghon would never have happened, and Randall would still be alive!"

"I gave your lot the book, I did not force you to use it," Snape spat.

...

"C'me on, Ripper," Ethan Rayne's voice singsonged behind his back, while his fingers kneaded the tense muscles in Giles' neck. "There are some really good spells in that book. And it's just a gift - no strings attached."

"With the Dark Lord there are always strings attached!" Ripper insisted.

"But it'll be so much fun," Ethan's voice whispered against his ear. Giles shivered, delight mingling with apprehension, and acquiesced.

...

Giles could hear Snape's voice continuing, as distantly as if it came from underneath a foot of water.

"It was you who decided to summon demons for kicks, and who killed Randall Goyle when things got out of hand." Snape's mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. "Don't blame me just because you were too obsessed with shagging that smarmy Summoner Rayne to think with something above your waistline."

Giles flinched as if someone had run a rapier through his chest cavity. The blood drained out of his face, his lips turning cold with it. He heard Buffy's sharp intake of breath, and Xander's suppressed but audible whistle. In fact, using said rapier to throw himself on and escape the sheer humiliation suddenly didn't sound all that bad. He'd always dreaded one of Ethan's visitations to Sunnydale might result in this kind of revelation, but until now had always managed to beat him down before he could drop hints in front of the Scoobies. Hearing his past indiscretions mentioned with such callousness imbued Giles with a desire to kill as strong as when he'd still borne his unholy nickname in earnest.

"Summoner?" Xander finally asked, in a blatantly obvious attempt to steer the topic away from the danger zone.

"What we call a Muggle sorcerer," Dumbledore explained, unperturbed by the emotions roiling through the small room. "Wizards are born with magic, while Muggles have to resort to calling up outside powers - ghosts, demons, elemental spirits and the like - to bargain for power."

"And Rayne's little circle was well adept at those tricks before I ever met them," Snape threw in silkily. "Using their spells for Muggle-torture and harassment, and not to forget to satisfy their... urges. Otherwise the Dark Lord would never have noticed them, or targeted them for recruitment."

Giles' fingers curved into claws that desired nothing more than to choke off the air supply behind that voice.

...

"Why are you so dead-set against it?" Ethan sprawled on the threadbare cushions of their lair's sole functional couch, a slight frown etched on his forehead. "It's not as if those wizards you're so defensive of ever bothered to treat you like a human being."

"You-Know-Who doesn't want us - he wants a few more expendable goons to do his dirty work," Ripper slurred, grasping for rational thought in the drug-dazed high of their afternoon summoning. "And he'd kill you - you're a Muggle."

Ethan swatted him. "We have Eyghon," he agreed and threaded his fingers through Ripper's hair playfully. "And I have you. Who needs Moldivort?"

...

"Whatever we did, we never sunk so low as to serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" Giles shot back at Snape, rattled by the memory.

"You never worked against him either," Snape replied with a contemptuous sneer. "Instead, you tucked tail and ran after you killed young Goyle and freed that demon, and knew the Dark Lord would come after you - and if not him personally, then at least Goyle's brother and Malfoy."

"Now, Severus, Rupert," Dumbledore intervened at last. "We are on the same side now, and squabbling amongst us will do us no good at all. Rupert, I am aware of Severus' past - as I am of yours - and yet his help has been invaluable, and I trust him unconditionally. I am sure you will be just as invaluable, Rupert. I do not require the professors here to get along or even like each other -"

Lupin hiccoughed at that. Snape shot him an evil glare.

"However," Dumbledore emphasised, "I do expect you to behave in a professional manner in my presence, and to respect each other as colleagues."

Giles lowered his gaze, trying - and failing - to quell his rage. Snape just stared ahead with a hateful sneer etched on his lips.

"As I was in the process of telling our new colleagues, Severus," the Headmaster continued, "we are perhaps dealing with a vampire. A local Hogsmeade girl - a recent Hufflepuff graduate - was found dead under suspicious circumstances, and her body vanished soon after." He looked up, somewhat apologetically. "I'm not asking you to patrol there, certainly, especially not before you've had time to settle in, but I'll feel better having experts to consult on the matter, particularly if there should be another incident."

Snape leaned in and asked, in a clearly audible voice, "So you've made a career out of watching the girl fight evil, Ripper? I wonder how that's suiting your ego... you had such a reputation for being fast with a blade, or did you get that nickname for your sexual preferences?"

Giles saw red and made to get up, ready to punch the bastard's lights out, but - superhuman reflexes and all - his slayer beat him to it.

"Listen, Mister!" she snapped. "I don't give a damn about what Giles did in his past. He's one of the bravest people I know, and all of us owe him our lives a dozen times over. And just because he's too mature to get worked up over your childish insults-" a sharp but clandestine kick to Giles' shin warned him not to spoil that impression - "it doesn't mean I won't kick your ass from here to Timbuktu if you don't lay off him."

"And if she's busy dusting vampires, I will," Xander added, colder than Giles had seen him since the immediate aftermath of Anya's death.

Giles was torn between the impulse to pull both of them into a crushing hug and scream that he was able to fight his own battles. He decided on saying nothing, which looked like a good course of action when Dumbledore finally blew up.

"Severus, I know it has been a very trying day for you, but I won't have you taking it out on a colleague like that. I know I can't make you friends, but again, I expect a small degree of professional courtesy from you - from all of you." He rose and rubbed the back of his nose in defeat. "Perhaps it's time to call it a night - you must all be tired from your travels, and I have to admit that I am, too." He leaned back in his chair and gazed mournfully into his teacup.

McGonagall briskly turned to Buffy and nudged her over into Lupin's direction. "Perhaps you'll accompany us up to the towers, Elizabeth? I assume that you and Remus will be wanting to go over your plans for your class."

"And you might want to hurry," Snape threw in, eyes glittering with malice. "There'll be a full moon soon, and our dear Lupin will be... indisposed then, being the werewolf he is. Or has the Headmaster failed to tell you that?"

Giles watched Lupin sigh softly, and saw the tension that crept into his posture.

"Oh, like Oz?" Xander looked up. "Cool!"

"No problem," Buffy assured and grinned at Lupin. "We know how to handle that - my friend Willow's boyfriend was a werewolf. The locking up during full moon nights business is annoying, I know, but if you're worried we can always order for a tranquiliser gun."

Reflexively, Giles rubbed his buttock and determined to intercept the owl with that order before it could even trundle out of the window.

"Severus, would you mind showing Mr Harris to his quarters? You have the same way."

Professor McGonagall's voice was pointed enough to brook no contradiction, and so Giles watched Xander trailing off after Snape and throwing death glares at the greasy hair on the back of the creep's head.

Giles himself walked up towards the towers next to the Deputy Headmistress, while Buffy and Lupin followed after, whispering. He and McGonagall kept a tense silence - she made to say something a couple of times, but caught herself every time. Giles wondered whether she was shocked about hearing his unglamorous past revealed, or was just generally angry about the fight in the Headmaster's office.

She dropped him off in front of an ornate oaken door, and showed Buffy into the room next to it. Giles could see that his slayer was itching to interrogate him - her twitching fingers gave her away - so he very quickly excused himself, feigning exhaustion.

...

He breathed a bit easier after the door had fallen securely shut behind him. The room was quite beautiful, with dark wooden furniture, enough bookshelves to hold half his Sunnydale collection, and a huge four-poster under a blue canopy with bronze linings. Ravenclaw's colours - either the Divination teacher was a real genius, or the house-elves had an amazing spy network and had jumped to the task immediately after his makeshift Sorting. His trunk and book bags were already waiting next to the bed.

It would have been tempting to explore his new haunts, but he could feel the feigned tiredness beginning to overtake him, and decided that the four-poster looked very tempting after all.

He locked the door, dug out a pair of pyjamas, and crawled into bed.

Perhaps tomorrow things would look brighter. Perhaps tomorrow today would be revealed as a nightmare.

Yeah, right!

~~~ tbc. ~~~