Princess of Sin
Timeline: season 2 Buffy, (she is 17), book 7 Harry Potter (they are all 17 as well).
***Scenario:*** After Dru kills Kendra, not just the police thinks it was Buffy. The Scoobies and the Council do as well. She is carted off to Hogwarts.
DISCLAIMER:: I do not own anything within the Buffyverse, Or Potterverse. I own the plot, that is all. anything is else nothing to do with me, so PLEASE don't sue.
The day was fast becoming cold. Buffy Summers sat in the back of the truck, her knees uncomfortably cramped. She was leaning back against the wall, her neck sore from being held in the same position for so long. Her wrists were becoming raw from being chained to each other by the handcuffs. The harsh metal grated against her skin and she winced as she tried fruitlessly to move.
Not that moving would have done her any good. Weatherby and Smith, two Watchers from the retrieval squad, had given her a large dose of some tranquilliser; her strength was totally zapped. Rendered helpless, she watched numbly as the men had arrested her on behalf of the Council.
Buffy remembered how it happened, those few short days ago. She had run into the library of Sunnydale High, to see the books of occult that had helped her so many times. To see the long, wooden tables which she had sat at and talked with her friends for hours on end; joking and laughing, making fun of Giles and all his British-ness, sharing jelly doughnuts, talking to Willow about boys. About Xander. About Angel…Angelus.
Among all those fond memories, she had found the body. Kendra’s body. Her sister-slayer was lying motionless on the ground, her throat cut. Angelus had taunted her, and she had run as fast as she could. He had laughed, and she was too late. Drusilla had come and gone, leaving a corpse behind. Buffy raced to the Jamaican girl’s side, but she already knew it was far too late.
After that, everything was a blur. She faintly remembered the police coming. Somehow, she evaded them, and gone after Angelus. She killed him, after a long battle. She came back to the library before she left for LA – her mother, Joyce, had kicked her out. When she walked into the library, everything was different. There were Watchers there. Weatherby and Smith. They had taken her by force, and subdued her with a tranquiliser. She saw the faces on her friends, on Giles.
"On behalf of the Watcher’s Council, you are hereby placed under arrest." The harsh voice of Weatherby. He pulled out the needle and stuck it in the crook of her arm. She screamed, and tears stung her eyes. She kicked out at him, and he backhanded her in the face. She tried to punch him, but her hand wouldn’t move. It was held behind her. Smith handcuffed her hands together behind her back. She tried to respond, but the effect of the drug was instantaneous. Suddenly drained, she tried desperately to explain herself.
"No! It wasn’t me…Drus….I…Angel..us…killed…" She felt so tired, she couldn’t finish what she wanted to say. Everything was turning dark, but she could still see Giles’ face faintly.
"I…I’m s-s-sorry, Buffy. I wish there was more I could do. You’ll be taken to England, and rehabilitated."
He sounded genuine, but there was an edge to his voice that said he didn’t trust her. That he still thought that she was under Angel’s spell. Like when Jenny was murdered, he partly blamed her. If Buffy had killed Angel, Jenny would still be alive. Now, Buffy thought desperately, he must still think that it was Buffy who killed Kendra.
Her friends looked scared. She had been acting weirdly lately; Buffy knew that. But didn’t they believe her? She wasn’t a murderer!
‘No,’ a nasty little voice said in the back of her drugged brain, a personification of her friends’ thoughts. ‘You’re a slayer, and that’s what you did, wasn’t it? You slayed
"I didn’t," she whispered, a tear slowly making its way down her cheek. "Not her, not Kendra. No one believes me. No one trusts me."
She sniffed angrily, tasted the salty tear as it fell on her lips. A sharp poke in the shoulder reminded her that she was sitting across from Smith. He frowned, and brandished the crossbow that he had been pointing at her for the last…God knows how many hours. She had lost track of time after the drug had knocked her out.
"Quiet, murderer," he hissed. "You’re right, though. We don’t trust you at all."
She closed her eyes and willed the tears not to come. Three hours later, she was jerked awake as the truck she was sleeping in had screeched to a halt.
She opened her eyes, bleary from lack of sleep and tears, to see that Smith had stood. He roughly yanked her to her feet, and fumbled with the door. He opened the sliding door open and stepped out, pulling her with him. She gasped, and looked up. She was in front of a large castle!
Buffy was very familiar with fantasy and the occult – it was her calling in life. But never had she seen something like this before. The castle screamed magic, she could feel it from this distance. Her Spidey-sense was tingling, and she became afraid.
Weatherby pulled her up a small path and pushed her into a carriage. She looked forward, and saw that a strange looking black horse that had wings led the carriage.
She fell back numbly and watched as they approached the castle. A very, very old man with a long white beard and a pointy hat was waiting for her at the entrance. She clenched her jaw, and walked out of the carriage to meet him; the two watchers behind her still toting their weapons.
The old man nodded gravely and spoke.
"Thank you. I shall take her from here." Weatherby and Smith nodded, Smith with a predatory grin, and turned, walking back to the carriage. The old man held out a hand gesturing to the castle.
"Inside, please." He said this without any emotion in his voice. Buffy felt her insides turn icy. What were they going to do with her? This didn’t look like any Council facility.
She walked indoors and was instantly warmed by the fire in the corner. But this was physical warmth, and had nothing to do with the chilly feeling she felt inside. The old man was leading her somewhere, and she hastened to follow. He led her up and down staircases, through rooms, through halls, down winding passageways until Buffy was very lost. She was feeling more helpless by the second. Finally, he led her up to where a giant statue of a gargoyle was. She watched curiously as he said something to the statue, which sprang to life. Buffy gave a small shriek of surprise. A demon! She felt around for a stake in her back pocket, but realised too late that she was quite unarmed. The old man had swung around swiftly and was looking at her with piercing eyes, as if analysing her reaction. After a second though, he spoke again.
"Do not be afraid. Our world here is very different from what you’re used too, Miss Summers. Come in," he said, a bit more firmly, and indicated that she should enter the room. She walked in, and was immediately accosted by some very odd things in there; like moving portraits, weird science-y instruments that Willow would have loved – Buffy stopped at that thought. Willow.
Presently, the old man had sat down opposite a dark mahogany desk and indicated that she should sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk. She complied, not really caring what happened now. They all thought she killed Kendra. What else could happen?
The man cleared his throat and stared at her again with those startling pale blue eyes. He put the tips of his long fingers together on the deesk and leaned forward to survey her.
"Miss Summers. I suppose you need to be filled in. My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore. You are at my school – Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Buffy started. Witchcraft? She looked at him dully, waiting for the man – Dumbledore –
"I know why you are here. The Council found out about what happened, and were going to take you to a correctional facility or jail. Your Watcher, however, is an old friend of mine and he asked if you could be taken in here."
Buffy swallowed. "So, what am I going to do here? I can’t slay…" she said, trailing off.
"You will join here as a student. You will be placed as a senior in seventh year. Since you are a slayer, you have natural magic abilities, so you will be able to use a wand and function as any other witch. However, you will continue to be under the tranquilliser, Miss Summers. I cannot have you endangering any of my students."
She stiffened when she heard that she would be under that stupid tranquilliser. She hated it so much, it made her blood run cold.
"Now, Miss Summers; if you please, put this on." He handed her an old, battered hat. She took it with a bewildered look on her face, but donned the hat obediently.
She looked up at his hard face. Just then, she heard a high voice in her ear.
"Well now, a slayer! I haven’t seen one of you since…well, that pretty little brunette girl. But that was a hundred years ago or more…now, let’s see…"
Buffy stiffened, and listened more intently. "Plenty of courage, I can see that. A quirky sense of humour, dedication…all Gryffindor qualities. But wait, what’s this? Hmm…ooh, some healthy anger here. Decisiveness, determination, cunning, quick-wittedness…unbelievable tenacity. You really persevere, don’t you?" the hat laughed in her ear.
"SLYTHERIN!" it yelled out. Buffy jumped, and took the hat off her head before looking at Dumbledore questioningly. He looked perplexed, and regarded her carefully.
"Very well. The last Slayer was a Slytherin, too."
Buffy swallowed nervously. "Um…sir? What’s sly..slither…huh?"
He almost smiled, but seemed to catch himself just in time. "We have a house system here. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Your housemates are like your family here at school. Now, I think it’s time to take you to your house."
With that, he called out loudly, "You can come in now, Mr Malfoy."
Buffy turned around. A tall figure stood in the doorway. Buffy felt her breath catch in her chest.
The man had silver-white hair, and pale eyes. He stood very tall, much taller than Buffy. His lips turned up disdainfully, and he had a contemptuous smirk on his face that Buffy recognised.
"Spike…" she whispered to herself, but then looked in his eyes more closely. She blinked. What happened to those heartless, twin blue pools? This man wasn’t Spike, he had silver eyes instead of blue. Buffy alsdo had a feeling that Dumbledore wouldn’t let a killer into the school. But then, he did invite me, didn’t he?
She thought bitterly, but willed herself to stop thinking that way when she felt tears beginning to come once again.
Dumbledore spoke. "Mr Malfoy here is Head Boy at our school. Please escort Miss Summers back to the Slytherin common room. Her bedroom is behind the picture of the witch in black. Oh, and Miss Summers - " he paused, and Buffy stopped and turned around to face him.
"I am keeping my eye on you. Remember this. The rest is to your own discretion. I will speak with you later."
With that, he dismissed them. Buffy felt her heart sink. She knew what that meant: he didn’t trust her. That was obvious. But then, who did
trust her now?
The man she was with, the Spike look-a-like, turned. He looked at her, as if sizing her up.
"So, you’re in Slytherin, are you? well, that’s something. I hope you’re not a mudblood or anything."
His voice was deep and intoxicating, smooth as anything. His upperclass English accent rolled off his tongue, and Buffy was forcibly reminded of Spike. Although the men had slightly different accents, Malfoy’s being more classy, they had exactly the same voice.
She frowned then. "What’s a mudblood?" she said in a small voice. Her energy was still drained, and she was feeling faint.
The blonde man made a derisive noise. "Well if you don’t know then you must be. A mudblood is someone who’s not purely a witch or wizard. Who’s got muggle blood, see?" he said scornfully.
She scowled. So they were calling her names now? "For your information, I come from a long line of magical women," she said curtly.
Malfoy looked…not more impressed, but less unimpressed. "Oh. Really," he drawled. Blonde American feminist,
he thought derisively. They’re letting the worst types in nowadays.
Buffy was about to give a smart remark when she suddenly felt dizzy, and fell to her knees. The blonde man gave a jerk and grabbed her before she hit the floor. She smiled apologetically.
"Sorry, I’m just not feeling too well," she said weakly. He offered his arm silently and helped her back to the Slytherin Common room.
Once they got there, he took her across the room and stood her in front of a portrait. Buffy looked at him quizzically, and he gestured to the painting.
"You need to come up with a password," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Buffy thought quickly.
"Morningstar," she said off-handedly. The man gave a small smirk.
"Like the Swiss Morningstar mace?" he asked. "Never would have thought a little thing like you would know about weaponry."
Buffy looked down. "You have no idea," she said quietly.
He sensed there was something wrong with the tiny blonde girl. He started helping her into her bedroom. "So, how old are you anyway? Fifteen?" he said.
Buffy frowned indignantly. "I’m seventeen. I’m supposed to be a seventh year or something."
The man gave another small smirk, which Buffy now recognised as a smile. She had spent way too much time around Spike. "Right. You’ll be in all my classes, then." he said. Turning to the door, he stopped.
"My name’s Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy."
With that, he left.
My first Buffy fic. Please review, I feel loved. If you have read my other fic; this is totally different. Feel free to make suggestions. Question: who is in the picture? Who was the other slayer???
You WILL find out. Read, review, reap the benefits of making my muse happy and I will update. …please???