Chapter Four

Title: Xander Harris and the Magical Ascension
Author: Mr. Klortho
Rating: Teen (Some spotty language here and there, but it's tastefully done if I do say so myself.)
Summary: Xander finds out that he has something inside that puts him firmly out of the “normal” category, and decides to travel to a castle in Scotland to learn more about it.
Timeline: During Season 2 for BtVS, and Book 6 for HP.
Speical Thanks: To my beta's: StrawberryChild, dozygirl, curius, and AmoebaFlower. Your help, suggestions, and overall support has been invaluable through this whole process. I can't thank you enough.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BtVS, Harry Potter, or anything to do with either, blah blah blah.





“We are totally lost. Like, so lost the Griswolds would be embarrassed.”

Giles took a deep, steadying breath before answering. “For the last time, we are not lost Xander. We are in Los Angeles, we are heading, err, ” he checked the stick-on dashboard compass, “west, and according to the map, we should be arriving at our destination shortly.”

Banging his head on the headrest accomplished nothing, but at least gave Xander something to do. Like right this very second. “You said that thirty minutes ago, and I still don't see the Portkey Hub. I'm this close to invoking 'liar liar pants on fire'.”

Annoyed eyes met Xander's in the rear view mirror. “Well I apologize for failing to realize that we would only move half a mile in that time.”

Giles continued. “Honestly, how people can live with this much traffic is mind boggling. Human beings were not meant to waste life sitting in their car, listening to pedantic views of politics on an AM radio station, or what passes for 'Top 40' drudgery. Now please lean back, stop talking and – wait, that man in the orange pick-up truck,” he said like a curse, “was supposed to let me merge! He's not obeying proper traffic laws!”

Xander threw a glare at a giggling Willow sitting in the passenger seat while Giles honked at the offending vehicle. He shifted around, trying to find a sweet spot to ease his aching muscles. It didn't work. Trying to get comfortable in the back of the Gilesmobile was like trying to be comfortable talking with your parents about sex.

That meant he had to settle for watching the scenery pass by - or in this case, crawl by - while his legs cramped up.

God, Giles had a feather foot on the accelerator. Xander could shimmy faster than this.

Not that he was eager to actually get to their destination. Thinking about it made his stomach flip, which in turn made him glad he skipped his usual breakfast of a half box of 'Fruity Pebbles.'

In the two weeks since he decided to go to Hogwarts, the days had pretty much turned into a blur. Apparently uprooting your life and moving out of the country for a year was a lot harder than he originally thought. He'd signed and read so many documents, he was seeing legal speak in his sleep.

He was pretty sure he had induced early arthritis in his right hand by signing everything from insurance disclaimers, to a form saying he understood the principles behind Floo traveling, to a waiver from accidental death by hippogriff; whatever the hell that was.

Wizards may be able to Mary Poppins the crap out of everything, but they still had a hard-on for basic paperwork.

Willow turned around, only her eyes visible above the head rest. “Xander, you look a little pale. You're not going to throw up are you?”

Of course that got Giles' attention from the drivers seat. He looked like his head would literally explode.

That was almost enough temptation to actually do it.

“Nah, I'm a vomit free zone.”

Giles visibly relaxed; though he might have left permanent marks on the steering wheel.

“I'm just trying to soak it all in,” Xander said. “I think the longest I've been out of Sunnydale was when I was ten and my dad made his yearly 'father knows best' attempt at taking me camping.”

Willow gave him an encouraging smile. “Well at least this time he won't be punching out any park rangers for being 'uppity.'”

“Yay for small favors.”

She flopped back into her seat. “Seriously, we've been over this like a million times; you're going to do great, you're going to make a ton of friends, people will love you and the way you say 'elevator' instead of 'lift,' insert other various uplifting phrases here, blah, blah, blah.”

“Then why do I feel like I'm about to fly out of my skin?”

“It's perfectly normal to be nervous, Xander,” Giles said. Not talking about traffic made his tone much more patient. “You're making a big change by not only going to a new country, but embracing a whole new way of life. That said, I am confident that with some hard work on your part, you can be successful.”

“Yeah Xander, we both totally, absolutely, one-hundred percent believe in you.”

Xander smothered a laugh at Willow's thinly veiled look toward Giles. The librarian did a good job of pretending he didn't notice, but hooking his finger in his collar and giving it a loosening tug gave him away.

After the mega-awkward blow up at Giles' place, Xander had avoided him for the next few days. It wasn't until Willow - being very 'un-Willow' by ripping Giles a new one – forced the two of them to sit down and talk that he finally told Giles of his decision to go.

Giles agreed with him one-hundred percent, while at the same time apologizing profusely. It'd been nice to hear at first; it helped smooth over some of the resentment from that crack about 'finally contributing something to the group.' But after twenty minutes of Giles fawning, even he got tired of hearing how great he was. Plus it was weird to hear kind words about his education from an adult male.

It had actually encouraged him to take this a little more seriously than he had been. That meant he picked up some of the books Penelope left for him instead of using them for coasters, and read more in the last two weeks than he had in the last two years. The best part was that he didn't even need Willow to help explain any confusing or wordy bits; he got it all on his own. It seemed she'd been correct in suggesting that understanding magic would come to him easier than his other studies.

Not that she let him have all the fun. She geeked out so hard for this entire magic thing, he was afraid she would somehow stow herself away in his luggage.

Still though, there was only so much you could learn in a few weeks.

The magical world had a history and culture that was completely different than anything he was familiar with. Most of these people had no clue about items in his world, the basic Muggle world, such as phones, cars, or electricity; instead they had magic to handle those things for them.

Many times he thought about giving up, figuring the transition would be too hard.

But then he would learn about something immensely cool, like that that whole teleportation thing. He had to physically stop himself from screaming out loud in joy when he read about that. He would do whatever they told him if he could figure out how to pull that off.

“It's too bad Buffy was out of town this weekend,” Willow said. “I know she would have gotten a kick out of this.”

“And, I don't know, maybe say goodbye to me, too, possibly,” he teased.

“Oh, that too! You know she'll miss you!” she said, a panicked expression on her face. And that was why teasing Willow was no fun.

“Xander,” Giles began. He was peering back at him once more in the rear view mirror, this time with a far more hesitant look. “If I may inquire; were there any problems convincing your parents to let you go overseas?”

A snort escaped before he could stop himself. “It's amazing how happy they were when I said the words, 'school in Scotland for a year,' and 'won't cost you a dime.'”

“That's, err, good I suppose.”

“It's not surprising is what it is.”

“Anyway,” Willow broke in with an overly cheery manner. “Let's play something while we're getting traffic jam-y. How about twenty questions? I'll go first.”

Xander and Giles both remained silent.

“Well fine,” she huffed. “We'll just sit here, doing nothing except listening to people honk their horns and – oooh, look, it's Elvis!”

Willow smushed her face on the glass to stare at what had to be the worst Elvis imitator in Southern California, that is unless Elvis really was 6'8” and over four hundred pounds.

“What do you think he'd say if I asked for an autograph?” she asked.

“Thank ya, thank ya very much.” Xander even threw in his best Elvis voice for good measure.

The car got incredibly quiet.

“Sorry,” Xander said, “that was just awful.”

Twenty-two minutes later, they arrived at their destination at the corner of Figaro and Belmont.

“Yikes,” Willow muttered.

That pretty much mirrored Xander's sentiment. For being the alleged hub of magical transportation on the west coast, the entire area was woefully run down. There was graffiti on all the decaying buildings, and it was not the nice, clever stuff either. The storefronts were mainly pawnshops and check cashing places, with the occasional adult bookstore thrown in for good measure.

This street looked like the kind of place you would want to avoid at night, during the day, and twice on Sunday.

“There it is,” Giles said. Xander followed his line of sight right onto the bus station.

“It doesn't look very wizard-y.” Willow couldn't even hide her disappointment.

Giles tried to give her a reassuring smile as he parked the car. “It's important to remember that with the Wizarding world, apparently looks can be deceiving.”

“They better be, because no one told me I'd need a gun and a tetanus shot,” Xander said.

Giles turned off the ignition and got out of the car. Xander followed through Willow's side, finally unfolding his body from the cramped back seat of the Citroen.

He stretched out the kinks in his back, taking those few seconds to scan the neighborhood again. It wasn't much better the second time around, now that he discovered that smell of rotting everything.

He walked around to the back of the car as Giles opened up the trunk, grabbing his luggage.

“It truly is remarkable that Miss Clearwater was able to shrink all of your possessions into one suitcase,” Giles said.

Penelope had stopped by Xander's house yesterday. Her attitude had been her usual mix of businesslike and clipped as she did her mojo on his luggage, shrinking it so it would fit in one bag while also making it feather light. It was going to be a lifesaver over the next day of traveling.

In fact the only problem was that he wasn't exactly sure how to get everything back to normal. Hawaiian shirts are meant to be baggy, not Ken doll size.

When she finished with the packing, Penelope surprised him by offering to escort him through the entire Portkeying process. Xander figured that she would have been running for the hills after the disaster of their last meeting.

Obviously that promotion was really, really important.

Suddenly a faint noise caught his attention. At first he couldn't place it, it happened so quickly. A few seconds later he heard it again. It sounded like fading static.

He looked up and down the street, but he didn't see anything.

There it was again. It lasted long enough this time to pinpoint it as somewhere past the intersection.

“Did you guys hear that?”

“No, I didn't hear anything,” Willow answered. Giles shook his head.

Xander scratched his temple. “Huh, it sounded like people yelling or screaming, but only for a few seconds.”

“Really?” Giles said, voice raising in alarm. “Well, this doesn't seem to be the best neighborhood. Perhaps we should head into the bus station. Miss Clearwater did say she would meet you out front, didn't she?”

Xander barely acknowledged him. “Yeah, yeah she did.” He heard the noises one more time.

They were growing longer.

He started slowly walking toward the intersection.

“Xander, the bus station is right here,” Willow said.

He didn't answer as he walked up the street. He felt the two of them fall in behind him. He could only imagine the looks they were giving each other.

“Xander, please, we don't have time for this. Neither Willow or I hear anything,” Giles said.

The noise increased every step he took toward it. About two blocks up the road, he finally saw what apparently only he could hear.

The front door opening and closing of a very loud, very full restaurant.

Talk about a diamond in a pile of compost; this building was way too nice for the neighborhood. It looked brand spanking new. The brick storefront and tempered glass windows were completely different from the cement and barred, broken windows everywhere else.

He walked up and peered through the glass. It looked like a typical bar and grill place, including the big marlin on the wall behind the bar. The people inside were watching something on TV and going crazy.

He noticed everyone wearing shirts of the same color red with the same design on the front, which made him guess they were watching for some sort of sports team he didn't recognize. The emblem was a big, beautiful red and orange bird, with the name “Santo Esmerejón Fighting Phoenix.”

He looked up at the restaurant's sign and was brought up short. The name of the place was “Gus's,” but that's not what got his attention; the sign that looked like it was painted on simple wood kept changing color and design. The name went from green, to blue, to red, all the while changing font and style.

He had just stumbled onto his first magical restaurant. It looked so, normal. Well, relatively.

“Huh, didn't see that coming,” Xander said.

“Umm, there are closed down wig shops in a lot of cities, Xander,” Willow said.

He looked back at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The store you keep looking at, 'House of Wigs.' It's completely decrepit and empty, which means, we should, ah, probably go,” Giles answered.

He thought they were joking at first, until he noticed neither one cracked a smile. In fact, they were both looking kind of antsy. “You really don't see a restaurant?”

“Xander, what are you talking about?” Giles bounced on his feet, his discomfort almost palpable.

Willow, however, started bubbling over. “Wait, wait, wait; we read about this! Wizards put spells around their buildings so Muggles can't see them!”

That sounded familiar to Xander, too. “So wait, you really can't see anything?”

“No, I can't,” Giles said. “Now can we please go back to the bus station?”

“What's with you?” Xander asked.

Willow piped in. “Oh, making them look old and broken is only part of it. They also make it so Muggles don't want to be around the buildings.”

“Then why isn't it doing anything to you?” Xander asked.

“Oh no, it is. I'm totally icked out, too!” She smiled ear to ear.

“Yes, unfortunately we can't stay long. We're already late in meeting Miss Clearwater.” Giles quickly made his way down the sidewalk.

Willow pouted. “Awww, but I want to try wizard chicken fingers, and wizard wings, oh, and maybe wizard chicken salad!”

“Do you think wizard chicken's kosher?” Xander asked.

Willow shrugged her shoulders.

They arrived back at the bus station to find Penelope Clearwater standing on the front steps. Xander didn't think he'd ever seen a person look more out of place. Business suits and tight hair buns were not the norm on the block.

“Yes, I see we're all here.” She looked down at her watch. “And only twenty minutes late.”

“Sorry, that was my bad,” Xander said, putting his bag down by his feet. “I heard some weird noises, turned out it was just a bunch of drunks at a bar. You'd think I'd be able to recognize that by now.”

“Ah yes,” Penelope said sagely, “I believe you're talking about 'Gus's.' I heard a few people at the British consulate talking about it. They mentioned to avoid going on Saturday afternoons; apparently the quodpot fans are a little out of control.”

“Quodpot?” Giles asked.

“Wizarding sport. From what I'm told it's very popular in the States. I wouldn't know; quidditch is the sport of choice in most other countries.”

“Now,” she continued, clapping her hands together, “we must really be going. I think it would be easier if you had your goodbye's out here. Mr. Giles and your friend are not cleared to proceed any further, remember?”

He did remember. How could he possibly forget? Still, her abruptness knocked the wind out of him. Knowing you were leaving home for a year was one thing; being confronted with the moment was something altogether different.

Willow's eyes grew glassy and her already chalk white skin paled. She was putting on a brave front. “You have the address of Giles' Watcher friend that's gonna relay our letters, right? Because Buffy and I both expect a running diary of every minute of every day.”

He patted his shirt pocket, where he kept said address.

Willow threw her arms around him, hugging him to the point of suffocation. For the first time in a long time, he hugged back just as hard.

“I'm going to miss you, Wills.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Right back at ya, mister.”

Then she leaned in, whispering into his ear. “Whatever happens, know that I believe in you, and I'm so proud of you. I would never be brave enough to do what you're doing. You go and find your place in the world. Don't worry about this year, Xander; we'll all be waiting here for you, because we'll never forget how much we miss you. How much I'll miss you.”

He rested his head on top of hers, content to let that moment stretch out forever. Obviously they wouldn't get that chance. He reluctantly pulled away to find Willow giving him a watery smile.

He shook Giles' offered hand. “Good luck, Xander. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks, Giles. Can you do me a favor?”

“Name it,” he said.

“Since I won't be around, you'll have to pick up the slack and make sure there's enough bad puns and inappropriate comments in the face of danger. It's a vital part of slaying.”

Giles chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “I shall do my best.”

Xander picked up his bag and took a deep breath. “This is one small step for man, and one scary hop skip and a jump for, err, Xander-kind.”

Willow giggled and Giles rolled his eyes.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, that sounded much cooler in my head.”

“We really should get going. We're getting precariously close to running out of time,” Penelope said.

Xander nodded, and followed Penelope toward the front entrance. He held the door open for her as she went through first. Before following, he turned to look at two of the most important people in his life. He tried to remember them as they looked now, because it would be twelve months before he laid eyes on their faces again.

He gave them one final grin and a wave before he took the plunge.

The first thing he noticed about magical Los Angeles was the smell.

That wasn't entirely fair; they weren't actually in Santo Esmerejón, which is what the natives called the magical part of the city. Still though, the lovely odor of vomit and overwhelming sadness wasn't exactly the best of first impressions.

Penelope was already briskly walking down the front hall. “This way,” she said.

He hurried to catch up, doing his best to avoid touching anything. This bus station desperately needed a good cleaning and paint job – about twenty-five years ago. The people milling about didn't look like the friendliest bunch either; he was pretty sure the guy sitting against the vending machine in the tattered 'Members Only' jacket had just hissed at him.

They walked past the waiting area, which was full of fake plants and those orange plastic bucket seats that were required in all buildings in the 1970's. They continued on, past the ticket taker in the barred-in booth, who was leaning his head on his hand, fast asleep.

They made a right at the restrooms, of which the male side had police tape over the door. Down a ways there was a lady, who he guessed was homeless since she was wearing every bit of clothing she owned, laying in the middle of the aisle. Penelope didn't even bat an eye as she stepped right over her prone body. He felt the need to at least mutter a “sorry” as he stepped over, to which she snorted and rolled onto her side.

They made a few more turns, finally stopping in front of a door in a dark, dingy dead end hallway. By the looks of the dust buildup, they were the first people back here in a very, very long time.

“So, not that this hasn't been educational, but where to next?”

Penelope looked around the hallway with utter disdain. “Now we use the visitors entrance to get into Santo Esmerejón.” She reached her hand out, pushing a button on the wall. Very slowly the door in front of them creaked open, sounding like a demon chewing on a tin can.

In actuality, what he thought was a door was an old-time elevator.

“So what, we take the Wonkinator up, up and away, out of the building? Does it even have enough speed to break through the glass?” he asked as he entered behind her.

She gave him a long, sideways glance.

“Wow, I keep forgetting I'm gonna have to contend with not only uptight British, but uptight British who have no idea about pop culture.”

“However will you manage?” she said under her breath. “And for your information, we do not travel up to reach Santo Esmerejón. Did you not study any of the books I provided?”

“Of course I did. I just paid a lot more attention to the chapters about the stuff across the pond. Hey, what ya doing?”

Penelope's face lined in deep concentration, staring at the buttons in the elevator. He couldn't figure out what was so confusing, since there were only four possible choices: the first floor and the basement buttons, the switch to stop the elevator, and a phone to call if you got stuck. He noticed the phone cord was actually cut. Joy.

“I'm trying to remember the correct combination.” She closed her eyes, and bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood. After a few seconds she opened her eyes and started pushing buttons: twice on the first floor, once on the basement, then three more times on the first floor. She then flicked the on-off switch three times. Penelope took a step back, and held her breath.

As soon as the lights started to flicker, she visibly relaxed.

“Who is the current 'U.S. Governor of Western Magical Affairs'?” asked a woman's voice with just a hint of a southern accent. He could have sworn the voice came over a loudspeaker, except Xander didn't see one anywhere in the elevator car.

Penelope chewed the side of her lip, her eyes raised up.

“Blast, who is it? Prunella Daughton or Jasper Strange?” It amused him that she was critical even in her self muttering.

“It's certainly one of those two, dearie,” said the voice.

“Jasper Strange?” Penelope half answered, half asked.

“There ya go! I had a feeling about you; you look like a smart little lady,” said the voice. “You have yourself a wonderful day, and welcome to lovely Santo Esmerejón. Oh, and don't forget to try our fine dining; especially you sugar; you're a handsome devil, but you're looking a little thin in your bones.”

In answer to his questioning expression, Penelope said, “In case you're wondering, since this entrance is located in the Muggle world, you have to answer a question about magic in order for the elevator to work.”

Xander scoffed. “Yeah, because that was that the only question I had.”

Before Penelope responded, the door of the elevator began to shimmer. He tightened from being startled, but saw that Penelope hadn't even flinched.

Suddenly a button sprung up out of the door, like a worm burrowing to the surface. It even came complete with an actual popping sound. It was followed by another button, and another, until there were so many buttons appearing that it sounded like popcorn popping. It didn't stop until there were at least a hundred buttons in front of them.

Witches and wizards may not have known about Willy Wonka, but they definitely liked to rip off his work.

“I don't know why they have to give you so many options. I mean honestly, who would ever need to go to 'Mr. Ali Baba's House of Magic Lamp Repair,” said Penelope. She gazed intently from button to button, an aggrieved expression on her face.

He felt his eyes glaze over as he stared at row after row of choices. From the ceiling to the floor, he saw stops for regular sounding places like, “Santo Esmerejón Municipal Building,” “The Lord Darcy Agency,” and “Greater Bell Water and Sewage.”

But there were also not so regular buttons, like “Sunburst Stadium,” “The Pegasus House: Home of Exotic Magical Creatures,” “Caliburn and Kusanagi's Weaponry and Transportation,” and the “ Santo Esmerejón Weather and Structural Maintenance Building.”

Suddenly Penelope exclaimed, “Ah, here we are; Santo Esmerejón International Portkey Hub.” Her well manicured finger pushed the button marked, “SMX.”

A split second later, he clutched the walls of the elevator for dear life as the car rocketed straight down. As his stomach could attest to, Knott's Berry Farm has nothing on this ride.

Penelope stood there, perfectly calm in the diving car. “For your own future clarification, Santo Esmerejón, along with being one of the top ten largest magical cities, is the only totally subterranean magical city in the world. Because of this, there is very little crossover with Los Angeles, along with a freedom to perform magic unlike anywhere else.”

“Fascinating,” he grunted. The elevator came to a blissful stop. He sighed in relief, just before it shot straight ahead, smashing his body against the back wall.

“Don't worry, you'll get the hang of magical travel soon enough.” She had the nerve to smirk at him. He would have cursed her out, if he wasn't afraid he might throw up.

Mercifully, the elevator stopped just as abruptly as it began. He was proud he hadn't tumbled to the floor in a heap.

The elevator doors swooshed open. “This way,” Penelope said, not looking back as she briskly walked out.

He followed, surprised to see what looked like the check-in area of an airport. For being his first taste of a magical city, it was actually pretty underwhelming.

He dropped his bag into the check-in line alongside Penelope. Since he wasn't really in the mood to make small talk with Miss Icy Professional, he let his eyes wander instead.

All the arrival and departure signs were moving and changing in a way that didn't involve electronics, but he had already seen that at 'Gus's'. The people at the security line still seemed as bored and indifferent as the ones in Muggle airports, so that wasn't a big shock. There was a twelve foot tall guy with pointy ears and horns walking out of the womens bathroom.

Okay, that was really weird.

Plus this was his first experience with people wearing robes. According to his books, it was much bigger in England than the U.S., but you still saw it around. Finally witnessing it live, it wasn't as odd as he thought. He'd seen people dressed much weirder on the street corner in Sunnydale. Heck, the robe wearers still hugged their loved ones good-bye just like everyone else.

But jeez, they had to be hot in those things.

He glanced to his left, which was the front of the Portkey hub. The entire wall was made of glass panes, which let him just see the tops of some large buildings stretching into the sunny, bright blue sky.

Then it hit him.

“Wait, if we're below ground, shouldn't there be darkness, and rocks, and possibly mole people?”

“You'll find magic to be a wonderful thing,” she said simply.

He tried pondering the enormity of that statement while Penelope pulled out a black compact from her purse.

“Do you mind if I make a call while we're waiting? I really do need to check in with the office.” Her tone was telling, rather than asking.

When she flipped it open, all he saw was a tiny mirror. “Yeah sure, knock yourself out. Just remember: If you ask it who the fairest of them all is, be prepared to not like the answer.”

Her frosty gaze could have frozen metal. “Ms. Lumpet, are you there? Ms. Lumpet, it's me Penelope Clearwater,” she said into the mirror. It only half surprised him when the face of an older, angry librarian type appeared.

“Ah, Miss Clearwater, excellent. You've called right on time. How is everything going?”

“As well as could be expected,” she sniffed. Xander barely dignified her words with an eye roll. “We are waiting to check-in now.”

“Excellent. Help the Muggleborn check in, and then head back to the embassy; you're needed there.”

“You want me to stay in the U.S.?” she asked with surprise.

“Yes.” Ms. Lumpet barely paid attention to the conversation, looking over paperwork instead of the mirror. “We need someone to help clarify some cauldron specifications with the Americans. They are trying to import three centimeter thick cauldrons when everyone knows you can't work with anything less than five. Not surprising, really.”

Ms. Lumpet peered over Penelope's shoulder, giving Xander the stink eye.

“But what about -” Penelope stumbled.

“The quarterly meeting?” Ms. Lumpet finished. “Since you're not expected to present anything to management, it shouldn't be a big loss. Besides, this cauldron issue could escalate without proper supervision.”

Even to Xander's untrained ears, Ms. Lumpet's words sounded callous and devastating. He tried to look everywhere except Penelope. At least that way he could give her some illusion of privacy.

“Of course. I'll leave immediately,” she said, her words sounding hollow.

“Very well. Call back tomorrow at 7am, your time.”

Ms. Lumpet abruptly disappeared.

No words were said as Penelope slid the mirror back into her purse. If she wanted to pretend nothing just happened, that was fine with him.

Around ten minutes later, they finally made it to the front of the line. They walked to the counter and stood in front of the short, portly handling agent, who was in the middle of stretching every button on his vest like a taught slingshot.

“Destination,” chubby agent guy drawled.

Penelope pointed at Xander. “He's going to London, by way of the British Ministry of Magic.”

“There is currently a warning for all travelers with a destination to London, or any of the British Isles.”

“We're aware,” she quickly responded.

Penelope went through her purse, pulling out a wad of paperwork she handed to the agent. His grubby fingers ripped it from her hands and quickly scanned the documents. He made little muttering sounds as he kept glancing at Xander.

“Any bags?”

“Just this carry on.”

After giving Xander a final once over, the agent took out his wand, made some movements, then held out the paperwork to him.

“Thank you for choosing Santo Esmerejón International Portkey Hub for your magical transportation needs. Remember: hold on tight to the Portkey ring to avoid broken bones and internal bleeding. Have a magical day.”

Xander slowly reached out to take the offered paperwork, seeing if there was a follow-up to that terrifying warning. The ticket agent stayed silent.

Just once, it'd be nice if someone went into a little more detail when it came to possible death and dismemberment.

“What warning for travelers to England?” he asked Penelope as they stopped in front of the security entrance.

“There have been some,” she paused, rubbing her hands together, “unsavory characters causing some incidents around the country.”

At the sight of his wide eyes, she continued. “Not that you have anything to worry about; they're isolated incidents, and you will be more than protected at Hogwarts.”

He bit his tongue from commenting further, figuring the British magical government wouldn't go through the trouble of bringing him over, just to lead him to slaughter.

“Anyway, here we are. Obviously I will not be proceeding any further, but it's not too complicated; just follow the instructions and you should have no problem.”

Xander fidgeted, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Good-byes weren't his strong suit, and he'd had his fill of them today. Plus, he didn't know what to say to Penelope. His original plan was for snarky, but after the dressing down she just received, even he wasn't that cruel.

“Well, this has been a lot of fun. We should really do it again sometime. Maybe have a spot of tea on the Thames.”

He got the wry smile he was shooting for. “First, the river is pronounced 'Tems', and second, while Scotland is close to England in regards to the Earth, it's not exactly close enough for a lunch time meet-up.”

“Gotcha. Wait, is geography a required subject at Hogwarts?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well thank god for that.”

Penelope nodded her head to him. “Well, good luck.” She turned on her heel.

“Hey!”

Xander pressed on when she turned back. “Thanks for all your help. I know I haven't exactly been 'Mr. Model Student,' but I can't imagine making it this far without you.”

“I'm sure you would have been fine,” she said.

“I doubt it; you're the one that had all my identification papers.” She actually laughed out loud, which made her finally look her age, instead of six months from retirement.

“Listen,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck, “I could tell your bosses that if you want.”

Penelope's cheeks and neck colored a pleasant rosy red. “You're welcome, and while I appreciate the offer, I don't think it's necessary.”

“Okay, figured I'd put it out there. Well, I should get going.” He hitched up his bag, beginning the trek to the security line.

He got about twenty feet before he heard her calling his name.

He stopped and turned around. Penelope stood there, more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. “I just want to say, good luck.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “Any last second advice, you know, as a former student?”

“Oh yes, of course.” Her voice shifted back to lecture mode. “Make sure to allot your self plenty of time for homework and studying. The teachers will work you hard.”

He rolled his eyes. “Any advice that doesn't come from a motivational poster?”

“Avoid Peeves, don't eat anything with the word 'Weasley' in it, and for goodness sakes, do try to limit yourself to one British joke a day.”

He laughed, then continued onto security. Maybe Penelope Clearwater wasn't so bad after all.

Xander made it out of security relatively unscathed in about half an hour, though a burly wizard with a lazy eye was a little poke-y with the wand. He did meet a nice elderly couple in line who were on their way to the worlds largest snitch in Cleveland. He just smiled and pretended he had a clue what they were talking about.

The one negative was the slow moving line, which meant there was only twenty minutes before his scheduled departure.

He rubbed his left arm where a nice red welt was forming. What a lazy eyed jerk.

At first glance the terminal reminded him of the check-in counter; exactly like a regular old airport. There were gates as far as the eye could see, shops and restaurants all along the sides, and people hustling and bustling everywhere.

But the longer he looked, the more peculiarities started to rise to the surface. It turned out those hustling and bustling people had their luggage floating behind them. And those shops along the walls were places Xander had never heard of, like, “Rivey's Wizarding Sweets,” “The Dragon's Heart Pub,” and “Professor Pietro's Potion Palace.”

Oh, and the fact that he just passed a group of goblins, who, coincidentally, seemed to be a really cranky bunch. Good thing he spotted them in a Wizarding creatures book a few days ago, otherwise he might have tried to take care of them himself; mainly by calling Buffy and crying, “Demon! Demon!”

“You look like you could use a vacation.”

He spun around, but couldn't find the owner of the very sultry female voice. It was like it came out of thin air...once again.

Man, he was getting tired of dealing with invisible women.

“Yoo-hoo, to your left.”

He did what she asked, and still didn't see anyone. The only things around were a garbage can, a couple of people walking by, a big poster advertisement for some tropical island -

He squinted. If he stared hard enough, he could swear that the woman in the poster was waving at him.

He slowly pointed his finger to his chest. He looked around to make sure no one saw how ridiculous he was being.

Until the woman smiled and shook her head yes.

Okay, one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen was currently smiling and flirting with him.

So she was a poster and thus didn't really exist? Whatever.

He took a few steps closer. The poster had “The Seven Wandering Waterfalls of Wobegon” written in big lettering at the top. The scene itself showed a group of magnificent waterfalls seemingly falling out of the sky into one crystal blue lake.

The beautiful blond woman in question was sunning herself amongst the rocks and trees around the pooling water.

Boy that red bathing suit sure was missing a lot of fabric.

“You look tense,” she purred.

“Well, ah -” he stumbled. Jeez, he couldn't even look her in the eye.

Sensing his embarrassment, she said, “You know, feel free to look; that's why I'm here.”

He cackled like a madman at the absurdity of the whole thing, but did as she asked. “So, how's life as an inanimate object?”

She shrugged languidly. “I spend all my life without a care in the world, sunning on the banks of the luxurious waterfalls of Wobegon. Can you say that?”

He stopped laughing, and his eyebrows knit together. “Well, no, but -”

“I don't know how people could NOT live like this,” she said, flicking water droplets from her fingers. “The sunlight kissing your skin with the lips of a god; the temperature so perfect it feels like you just walked into a dream; people so happy, so free, that you can't help but get swept up in the overflowing emotions of perfection.”

Her words hypnotized and lulled him into utter relaxation. He stared deeper at the poster. Why shouldn't everyone go to such a wonderful place?

“Plus it's a great family destination, with plenty of things for the kids to do; like “Mermaid Dan's Water Cove,” full of the rip-roariningist water slides this side of Atlantis!” she said, sounding very much like a radio DJ.

He snapped out of his daydream. Wow, and he thought subliminal advertising was bad on television.

“Well, that whole mermaid thing sounds nice - even though the thought of a male mermaid ruins a few of my fantasies – but I really need to get going. I have a Portkey to catch.”

“Awww,” she pouted, “and where do you have to go that's so much better than being with me?”

He giggled like an enchanted schoolgirl at prom. God he was such a dork.

“I'm off to England. Well, England first, then Scotland.”

“England,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “But that's no fun! You don't even need sunscreen over there!”

“I'm not going for fun; I'm going to study. Believe me, no fun will be had.”

“Oh well,” she said, lowering her sunglasses and giving him a wink, “that's too bad. It would have knocked your socks off.”

He gave her a smile. “At least we'll always have this walkway.”

Her laugh sounded like tinkling bells. “When do you have to leave; you're much more interesting than most of the cretins that stare at me.”

She continued, speaking like she was thinking out loud. “I mean I know I'm unbelievably attractive, but could you at least pretend not to completely ogle me. If I had feelings, I'd be insulted.”

He grabbed the paperwork, and pulled out his ticket. “Ummm, I depart in,” he looked at his watch, “fifteen minutes from gate C3.”

“C3?” she said in amusement.

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh nothing, only that it's at the complete opposite end of the Portkey hub.”

“Which means?” he asked in alarm.

“That if you run, you might make it there in time.”

His eyes almost popped out of his head.

“You're serious?” he squeaked.

She laughed and nodded her head.

“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap,” he mumbled as he smashed the paperwork into his pocket. He turned on his heel and took off.

“Good luck!” she yelled after him. “If you get the chance, stop by and see the 'Seven Wandering Waterfalls of Wobegon, MN'! I know you'll love it!”

He stopped in his tracks and turned back. “Really? Minnesota?”

She smiled, put her glasses back on, and blew him a kiss.

“Huh. Go figure,” he said in bemusement. Then he took off running again.

Fourteen minutes and fifty-five seconds later, he sprinted up to the gate just as they were shutting the door.

“Wait!” he yelled. “Stop that Portkey!”

The worker at the door huffed, but opened the door back up.

“Are you on the Portkey to Boston?” she asked.

“Oh, ah, no,” he said in confusion. “I'm supposed to go to England, but I swear the ticket said this gate.”

“Boston is the only American hub you can use to Portkey to England. Ticket please,” she said in a bored tone.

He pulled out the paperwork from his pocket, which had now wadded up into some indescribable form. He picked through it hopelessly for a moment, then just handed the entire thing over to the not so nice worker with the beehive hairdo.

“I hope you know you're making everyone else late, sir,” she said as she found the ticket in question. “We run on a tight schedule.”

Xander looked at his watch, and saw that he was now literally fifteen seconds late. By the look on the workers face though, he decided not to protest his innocence.

She ran her wand over the ticket, and handed it back to him. “Thank you for visiting SMX. Please make sure to touch the Portkey at all times; SMX is not responsible for any lost or misplaced items you may lose on route, or any lost limbs.”

“So how does this thing work anyway?” He hitched his bag back up on his shoulder. “No one's told me how to -”

“Your Key Attendant will describe everything to you,” she interrupted. “Please sir, you must hurry.”

She shoved him not so gently through the door, slamming it behind him. He was faced with a thirty foot walkway with a door at the end. He started walking, ignoring the growing lump in his stomach. If there was a chance to screw this up, he was confident he'd find it.

When he got around five feet from the door, it opened on it's own; a harried, rumpled string bean of a man waiting on the other side.

“Please hurry sir, we're running late.”

He didn't feel surprise as he stepped into the room, just befuddlement. The room itself was about the size of a banquet hall, with around one hundred or so people surrounding what looked like a floating brass hula-hoop that fit most of the room. Whether they were inside or outside the ring, everyone had a hand on it.

He turned to the Key Attendant. “I'm not exactly sure what I'm -”

The man rolled his eyes. “Of course he has to be a first timer,” he muttered. He marched over to an open space between two young boys playing swords with their wands, and a man in a dapper robe, reading a book on the history of American Hit Wizards.

“See this? All you have to do is touch it at all times. Oh, and make sure you're holding your bag, too. We have enough people leaving luggage behind.”

“And bodyparts?” Xander asked with a nervous laugh.

The man smiled condescendingly, and stepped away.

Xander slowly wrapped his left hand around the ring as the attendant made his way to a little platform by the door. Once he was up in the air, he took his wand, and stuck it under his chin.

“Sorry for the delay folks.” His voice boomed throughout the room like he spoke into a megaphone. He was also staring very hard at Xander. “You will be departing in forty-five seconds. Please make sure to touch the Portkey at all times, while maintaining a grip on any luggage you may have.”

One of the little sword fighters bumped into Xander, which made the mother light into her son. It was nice for Xander to have a reminder of his home life in this odd situation.

The attendant continued. “If you feel your item is too large to successfully maintain contact with, then please see the attendant nearest you, and they will put it with the rest of the outbound luggage.”

His tone became much more friendly. “Our main office informs me that the Portkey today to Boston should be relatively turbulence free, so you should have a smooth, bump free ride.” That got a collective sigh from most of the people.

The attendant looked at the countdown clock at the front of the room. It was at seventeen seconds. “Anyway, thank you for choosing SMX, and we look forward to providing your Portkey needs in the future.”

The clock struck ten, and the attendant started counting down with it.

“10, 9, 8,” he boomed.

Xander gripped the bar tighter. No one around him seemed to be nervous, but he still squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't like flying the one time he did it, either.

“1”

The next second, he felt his body jerk forward like one of those terrible vaudeville acts who gets the hook. If he thought the elevator was rough, this Portkey put it to shame. He was failing and soaring at the same time, with no idea which direction was which. He tried to scream out, but his lungs felt deflated.

He held onto the bar with a death grip as seconds felt like hours. Suddenly, with a great whooshing noise, he reappeared in the room and promptly slammed into the ground.

He groaned, sitting up. He looked around to see if anyone else was injured. He hung his head when he realized that not only was no one else injured, everyone landed on their feet.

“Welcome to Boston,” blared a female voice. “Please exit in an orderly fashion to the front left.”

He noticed the room was different than the one he was just in. He had traveled over three thousand miles in a few seconds. He could barely wrap his mind around the idea. The way his stomach felt though, he wasn't sure he liked the trade off.

“Hey Billy, that guy landed on his ass! What is he, a Muggle?” cackled the little punk. He and his sword fighting partner sure were enjoying his misery.

The kids mother laid into him once more, dragging the little wand punk out of the room and screaming about his language. The kid looked back at Xander before walking through the door. Xander gave him a mocking wave, which the kid returned with a middle finger behind his mother's back.

Xander stood up, and dusted himself off with as much dignity as he could muster. He walked with rubbery legs toward the exit.

A quick thought struck him. “Excuse me, ma'am?” he asked the attendant.

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me where to go next?” He handed her his ticket.

“Absolutely,” she said with a customer service smile. She looked over his ticket. “Oooh, going to England, huh? That should be fun!”

He agreed with a queasy nod.

“Anyway,” she continued, “your next Portkey leaves in twenty minutes for Pangnirtung.”

“Where?” he blurted.

“Aren't you sweet?” she said with hands on hips. “The International Confederation of Wizards ruled that you couldn't just go from the U.S. straight across the Atlantic; too much chance of being caught in the Bermuda Triangle. So that means you're off to Pangnirtung, Nunavit, Canada. It's the next stop on the line to England!”

The obnoxious smile never left her face. “Then, you're off to Reykjavik, Iceland, followed by good old London, England. All in all, you should be there in less than an hour!”

She handed him back his ticket, and gave him a friendly slug on the shoulder. “How great is that?”

“So I have to Portkey two more times?” he whined.

“Uh-huh!”

He slung his bag over his shoulder. “That's a lot of things lady, but great ain't one of them.”

He walked out the door, leaving a very put out attendant behind him.