Chapter the Second: Terry Boot
Author: Leevee of Team Socket
Pairings: Noneish so far, Andrew/Dawn, and Zacharias/Susan if I feel like adding some later.
Disclaimer: Chances are, if you know it, I don’t own it.
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Fanfiction.Net, any place that wants it (just tell me where it’s going, I like to look and preen occasionally).
Summary: Your typical ‘Scoobies have family at Hogwarts, to which they go, and hijinks ensue’ story. With Zacharias Smith and Terry Boot as the main characters. And more blatant sarcasm than you can shake a stick at. In this chapter: Terry Boot and his family meet Rupert Giles and Buffy Summers.
Notes: At the end of the story, mostly. A quick shout-out to Andy (and no, not the fictional one), without whom Terry would make more sense!***
“Last call, now I’m out of time/And I ain’t got no valentine/Singled out now I stand alone/An underdog in a modern world…”
Terry Boot cursed as his head hit the metal bar above him. He dropped to the floor and rubbed at the growing bump, glaring at the ceiling. “Think you can keep it down up there?” he yelled upwards and was rewarded with the muting of the stereo. He sighed thankfully and went back to his – for lack of a better term, contraption. And then…
“GONNA START A RIOT, YOU DON’T WANNA FIGHT IT!”
“Dear God!” Terry fell out of his contraption onto the floor, clutching his head. ‘I didn’t know that the stereo could go that loud,’ he thought through the pain of having his eardrums broken. Well, that sealed it. He tossed his wrench in a corner, making sure that one of the cats wasn’t occupying it, wiped his hands off on a rag, and stalked up the stairs.
His sisters were dancing to the American music, laughing wildly and most definitely not cleaning the house up in preparation for company, as they had been instructed by Mrs. Boot (she hadn’t even bothered to ask Terry, some things just weren’t worth the effort). Leigh was on top of the table, which couldn’t be a comfort to the poor table, and Cari was bouncing on a mattress – where had she gotten a mattress? – the both of them singing so off key Terry was surprised there was still unbroken glass in the house.
Being the smart boy that he was, he went over and turned down the stereo before attempting to yell at them, thereby relieving most of the comedic opportunities at this juncture. “Leigh Anne! Carla! What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded of them.
“Oh don’t even. You’re not doing any cleaning, and you’re not in charge either, so that means…”
Terry growled. It was bad enough to deal with one of them, but both at once when Leigh wasn’t annoyed with Cari, that was just torture. He slowly began to smirk as an idea formed. “No authority, eh? …oh, KIRSTEN!” he yelled. Maybe he’d be lucky and his older sister would actually be awake today.
Indeed she was. Kirsten Boot, eighteen-year-old spectre of evil, stormed down the hall towards them. Leigh and Cari shared ‘oh shit’ looks and scrambled to hide the mattress – where had they gotten that from? – and turn off the stereo completely. Terry gave them a satisfied look before realizing that, as the waker of the Beast, he would be the one upon which terror fell.
Thankfully, before Kirsten made it over to him, their dear mother arrived with the groceries. Seizing this one sweet chance, Terry fled back to his basement, throwing a vague promise to come back up at five to meet their guests.***
Five o’clock arrived and Terry would’ve forgotten had it not been for the handy-dandy timer he had built into the Thing (he had decided to give an official name his contraption). Of course, he was a teenage boy, and therefore did not have the foresight to set it for a bit before five, so he was splattered with motor oil, grease, and other things when he pulled himself up to the main floor.
The guests were evidently part of the “directly punctual” school, as he heard his mother greeting them and offering to take their coats while he tried his best to sneak into the living room unseen. His best, unfortunately, wasn’t good enough, he learned, as the back of his shirt was snatched by his mother. And, like mothers everywhere, she began to scold him in front of the two strangers, an older man with glasses and a receding hairline and a small blonde woman who held herself like a Gryffindor – that is, like someone who expects to be attacked by everything in the room.
“Mum, it’s not like it’s poison, or mud, or something. It’s just grease,” he whined at her. “Leigh’s forever wearing that shirt of hers with grease and paint stains all down the front, and the cuffs are all shredded too!” The end came off a little weak, as Terry felt the onset of a ‘to boot’, and was hoping to avoid any unnecessary puns at this time of day (all right, so it was five in the afternoon, but during the summer that’s like… five in the morning for a kid!) but it was still a good argument, he felt.
So did his mother, who sighed and left off. He could feel her itching to magic his stains away, which really wouldn’t turn out well, aside from the Muggles in the hall behind her. She was great with potions and animals and plants, but hand her a charm and prepare for serious damage. She hadn’t gone to Hogwarts; her magic was only about half calibre, so the Hogwarts registers listed her as a Squib. Home trained witches can be worse than the imagination can conjure, depending on the parents. In this case… it was one of those ‘worse that the imagination’ deals.
She ushered Terry and the two strangers into the living room where Leigh and Cari were waiting (the Beast had not been asked for and had felt no need to deprive herself from her typical teenage broodiness).
“So, Mister… Giles, was it? You had some information regarding little Leigh Anne and Carla here?” Mrs. Boot smiled down at her two younger children in a sickening way, causing both of them to blanch. Or possibly from the use of their full names. Terry wasn’t about to ask in the middle of all this.
“Um, yes. Have you noticed, recently, a sudden increase in their strength, speed, and reflexes?” Off of her slightly confused nod, he continued. “This may come as a shock, but they are Vampire Slayers. Vampire Slayers are –“
He was cut off by Terry. “One girl in every generation, chosen to stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.” He paused, trying to remember. “That’s about it, right?” Noticing the assorted shocked looks, Terry shrugged. “We were learning about them in class, right before the Badger Betrayal occurred and there was the whole siege thing with the demons and all swarming the school.”
His mother and sisters nodded, remembering the letters and articles in the Daily Prophet (which had dubbed the affair ‘the Badger Betrayal’, those at Hogwarts being of a mind to call it ‘the Puffy Fiasco’), but Mr. Giles and his friend still seemed a bit shocked.
“Well, yes, that’s the basic gist of it,” Mr. Giles said, cleaning his glasses. Probably a nervous habit, Anthony used to do the same before Zacharias Smith had cracked in the middle of Ancient Runes and crushed them, advising the forlorn Prefect to ‘get a pair of contacts, already!’ “Of course, now there are more Slayers. A spell was done, and all the girls in the world who had the possibility to become Slayers, are.”
Terry blinked. “Ooh. That would certainly up the life expectancy, now wouldn’t it? Also would explain Susan Bones and Ginny – you remember Mum, she went out with Michael for a while – during the battle. I mean, I knew they were Chasers and all, but you still shouldn’t be able to rip something’s head off like that.” A thought occurred to him. “But wait, all the ones with the possibility to become Slayers are Slayers? Does that like, include transvestites and old people?” he asked curiously.
For his troubles, he got hit in the back of his head by his mother, and got a laugh out of the blonde. “Didn’t think of that, did we Giles?” she asked the older man with an obviously American accent. Leigh and Cari perked up at that. They had a rampant obsession with America and all its trappings, to Terry’s disgust.
But Giles was distracted by something else. “You said ‘Chasers’,” he stated, peering at Terry suspiciously.
‘Oh crap.’ “Uh… No I didn’t!” ‘Great, now I’m gonna go to jail for breaking that ‘letting Muggles know about us’ thing!’
“Yes, you did. Does the name ‘Hogwarts’ ring a bell?” Mr. Giles gave him a slightly creepy gaze, but Terry was too relieved to notice.
“Oh, good, you know of it?”
“My nephew goes there.”
“Really?” Terry perked up. “Maybe I know him. What’s his name?”
Terry literally fell out of his chair. “You’re joking. Come on now, you are joking, right?” Noting Giles’ confused look, he sighed. “Well, I suppose that explains his low tolerance for glasses-cleaning.”
The blonde American laughed at that. “See, Giles, told you it wasn’t just us!”
Mrs. Boot, recovering from the vague daze she had been in, shook her head. “So, wait, you want to take Leigh Anne and Carla somewhere to train?” she asked, getting the conversation back on topic (ah, mothers, the sensible ones).
“Hogwarts, actually,” Giles said. “Headmaster Dumbledore felt that forming a sort of ‘Slayer’s Academy’ on the grounds would be a good idea, especially for those witches who also have Slayer powers.”
Leigh and Cari grinned, and Terry bit back a groan. Oh great. Now they would be able to bother him at school too. He thought he had managed to escape that when Cari had turned eleven last year without a letter, but no such luck. Oh well, might as well get as much freedom here as he could. He stood up and stretched. “You all can work out the details or whatever, I’m gonna go work on the Thing,” the seventeen year old told them, strolling out of the room.
As he went, he faintly heard the blonde say bemusedly, “The ‘Thing’?” and his mother sighing. Terry grinned to himself, grabbing the family owl on his way downstairs. These Slayer occurrences were something that Michael and Anthony would want to be informed about, Padma too. Might as well make it one huge Ravenclaw newsletter, send it to Lisa, Kevin, Cho, Roger, Luna, Orla, and the rest of the house that he knew.
From them it would spread to the rest of Ravenclaw, then from Padma to her sister to all of Gryffindor, from Anthony and the Creeveys to all of Hufflepuff, and… Well, the Slytherins probably already knew, they had a sneaky little habit of that.
Terry paused in his maintenance of the Thing to consider the beauty of it all, that within a day of sending a letter to three people, the entire school would know. The rumour network, better than DSL Internet, he thought with a smirk as he disappeared into It.***