Witches and Wands
Title: Witches and Wands
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Joss. Harry belongs to JKR. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Faith hits Diagon Alley with her entourage.
Word Count: 2070
Faith privately enjoyed the sound of the gravel crunching under her feet as they walked up the lane to her house. Her manor, actually. It was a weird thought. Of course, it was even bloody weirder to be back here. Having B and the Scooby Gang with her really put it over the top. She hoped her mother had been cremated, because otherwise she might damn well rise up out of her grave at the idea of her home being occupied by a Muggle, a Watcher, a Slayer, a Wiccan, and a Muggleborn.
And wasn’t that just hilarious- turned out both B and D were magic enough to work with wands. Whatever magical senses the creepy proprietor of Ollivander’s had must have gone off the charts when their party had walked into his shop. His face had practically lit up.
“Miss LeStrange! How unexpected. And your companions- are they New World witches?”
He was regarding both Buffy and her sister with frank appraisal. Buffy stepped protectively in front of her sister.
“The only witch here I know of besides me is Wiccan, so I don’t think she’s in the market for a wand,” Faith said flatly. “And it’s Lehane, actually. I haven’t gone by Lestrange since I was a kid.”
“As you prefer, Miss Lehane,” Ollivander had said, as if it didn’t matter to him- and by the time they’d left his shop, Faith was pretty sure it genuinely didn’t. The man lived and breathed wands.
“But your companions,” he continued, “are quite clearly witches. This one in particular has an impressive amount of raw power, though if she hasn’t been taught control by now, it’s unlikely we may expect much beyond average spellwork.”
He had been looking at Buffy as he spoke, and the last part was delivered as if it were a disappointment to him that he couldn’t expect greater.
“Me?” Buffy squeaked, as Faith choked back laughter at the sight of the usually laid back Slayer completely discombobulated. Evidently wand sellers were scarier than demons and vampires. “Faith’s the one wand shopping, the rest of us are just nosy!”
Ollivander made a slight harumph of disbelief, but turned back to Faith all the same, bringing out a tape measure.
“Very well, Miss Lehane, you first, and then the sisters. For those who do not understand this process, you would be well advised to stand back, as the reactions of wands to potential owners can be quite unpredictable.”
The Scoobies had exchanged slightly concerned looks but backed up as far as they could while still in the shop. Buffy frowned when Dawn didn’t back up enough, and tried to shoo her further back, but Dawn had hissed furiously that he said she was a witch, and she wanted to see how this worked!
“Hold out your wand arm, if you please, Miss Lehane,” Ollivander instructed.
She obligingly held out her right arm, and the tape measure went to work. Faith let it do its thing as Ollivander bustled about pulling boxes from shelves. By the time he recalled it, he had a small stack waiting.
“While I recall your parents wands quite well, your time away may have altered your approach to magic, so it is prudent to have a wider range to try than I would ordinarily start with,” he said.
“You remember her parents’ wands?” Dawn asked curiously.
“Bellatrix Black, 12¾ inches, walnut with dragon heartstring core, quite unyielding,” Ollivander said breezily. “Rodolphus Lestrange, 14 inches, blackthorn and dragon heartstring, firm but not overly so.”
“Whoa,” Dawn said, impressed. “He’s got like an eidetic memory for wands!”
Ollivander’s smile seemed a little dusty, as if it didn’t get out much.
“Indeed, Miss Summers, I recall every wand I’ve ever sold, and most of those I have handled whether they are of my own make or not.”
“Wow,” was all Dawn could manage, eyes wide as she glanced from proprietor to the well-stocked shelves of his shop. “That’s got to be thousands of wands plus the people to go with them…”
“Dawn, not now please,” Buffy said quietly.
“Let us begin, Miss Lehane,” Ollivander said, still looking faintly pleased that he was getting such a reaction from a customer. “12¼ inches, walnut, dragon heartstring. Give it a wave, if you would.”
Nothing happened, but Ollivander didn’t seem at all bothered.
“Not to worry, it isn't every witch who finds her match on the first try. 11½ inches, pine, dragon heartstring.”
“Why dragon heartstring?” Willow asked curiously.
“As both her parents’ wands contained cores of dragon heartstring, it is most likely that a wand containing the same core will choose Miss Lehane,” Ollivander explained. “It is far from an ironclad rule, however.”
Ollivander proved to be right, as the fifth wand he presented- red oak with dragon heartstring- finally did something positive, lighting up the room with some lovely green sparkles. Seeing that, Faith mentally groaned. Sparks were normal for a wand that had chosen its owner, but the superstition in Britain was that the colors reflected your Hogwarts house. She hoped Ollivander would keep her color to himself.
She paid for her wand and let Ollivander direct his attention to the Summers sisters.
“Um, Mr. Ollivander? As nice as it sounds to have a wand, I don’t know how I’m going to pay for it,” Buffy said apologetically. “I doubt you take credit cards.”
Ollivander looked faintly puzzled at the mention of Muggle methods of payment, but Giles intervened.
“I retrieved some wizarding currency from Gringotts while Faith was getting her money out,” he said. “The Council maintains an account. I see no reason why Council funds should not be used- it can be considered a weapon, after all.”
Buffy’s face lit up.
“I like weapons,” she said cheerfully. "I like them even better when someone else buys."
Ollivander glanced thoughtfully from one Summers to the other.
“So,” he mused. “Not just one but two Slayers. And a Slayer’s sister. This requires some thought. I do not believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of helping a Slayer choose a wand, let alone two in one day.”
Buffy and Faith both goggled at him.
“The existence of the Slayer is not a secret in the wizarding world,” Giles clarified from his seat by the door. “As such, someone as versed in the intricacies of magic as a wandmaker must be would certainly recognize a Slayer.”
Ollivander nodded.
“This is a rare treat,” he said, setting his tape measure to work on B as he flitted around choosing another set of boxes. “Especially with a Muggleborn Slayer.”
“Why especially a Muggleborn Slayer?” Dawn asked. “Is it because you have to see how well you can guess, since you can’t base it on our parents’ wands?”
Ollivander nodded, beaming.
“Have you considered studying wandlore, young lady? You are remarkably quick to pick up on these subtleties. I often find myself explaining them even to the wizardborn.”
Dawn chewed her lip thoughtfully.
“It sounds really interesting, but if I’m magic enough for a wand, I think I’d like to find out what options there are for me in the wizarding world before I commit to anything.”
Faith smirked. Privately she suspected Giles already had an eye on D for the Council, and if he sponsored her, it was probable she’d end up running it someday.
“If you decide the study of wandlore is for you, I might not be averse to taking an apprentice,” Ollivander said, setting a dozen boxes on the counter.
He ended up having to present twice that number to Buffy before she finally found her wand- redwood with phoenix feather, reminiscent of an unusually long, slender stake, and clearly prettier than B had been expecting. She pouted when she was told in no uncertain terms by Giles that she needed to put it away in its box until they finished their shopping trip.
Then it was Dawn’s turn. She peppered Ollivander with questions as he brought wand after wand for her to try- he needed more for her than Faith or Buffy, but to be fair, he’d also had less to go on with her. (Faith thought he might have also been drawing out the process, as it was doubtful many of his customers took such an interest in the process and the properties of the various wands.) She ended up with a maple and unicorn hair wand Ollivander described as ‘pleasantly springy’, and several book recommendations besides.
After Mr. Ollivander bowed them out of the shop in considerably better spirits than he’d been when they arrived, the group split up. Xander, Buffy, and Faith had already discovered their interests diverged from Giles, Willow, and Dawn, who could have happily spent the rest of the afternoon in the bookshop. What Xander dubbed the ‘fun crowd’ bounced gleefully from Magical Menagerie to Quality Quidditch to Florian Fortescue's via Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes before finally prying the bookworms loose for the trip back to the Grange.
“So,” Xander asked as they ambled up the lane toward the manor, “is it a rule that dark wizards’ houses have to look all creepy, or was it just your parents that decided to go for the dark and foreboding look?”
Faith frowned.
“Not sure,” she replied. “I’m less concerned about looks than effects- knowing Mummy dearest, we should probably request Ministry help checking the place for heavy-duty hexes and lethal booby traps.”
They’d spent the previous night camped out on the floor in the closest thing the Grange had to a living room, an enormous space that had fit them all comfortably with room to spare. Faith had insisted, well aware that there might be more unpleasant things than the portrait lurking in the house. Fortunately, the house elves hadn’t batted an eye when asked to serve dinner and breakfast there, though the oldest one had looked slightly disappointed.
“But you have wands now,” Willow protested. “Between us and Giles, shouldn’t we be able to check your house out without outside help?”
Faith shook her head.
“Not saying you’re not competent, Red,” she said gently, “but my parents were no slouches with magic and they hung around witches and wizards with some seriously nasty skills. I only know a handful of basic spells, and B and her midget-“
“Hey!” Dawn yelped indignantly.
“-hadn’t even seen wands before yesterday. I don’t want to trust that we’re picking up the spells correctly from the books you guys hauled back and risk someone getting damaged.”
“Do you think the Ministry would assist?” Giles asked cautiously. “I’m not averse to the idea of someone properly trained helping us do the requisite health and safety check, but they didn’t seem terribly thrilled about the idea of you returning to claim your inheritance.”
Faith shrugged.
“I think it was more about having to give up the gold that would have transferred to Ministry accounts if I hadn’t shown up within the requisite seven years. I’ll live. Their dislike won’t kill me, but some of the Dark artifacts I’m sure are stashed around here might. Or you, or the Xan-Man, or...”
“Yes, quite,” Giles agreed. “Will you contact the Ministry, or would you prefer I do it?”
Faith sighed. Tempting as it was to let Giles handle matters, she knew she really ought to.
“I will. B and I are supposed to be working on the grownup thing now that we’re over trying to kill each other, right? Besides, it’s been a couple years since the Lestranges were killed. Should be enough time for tempers to cool down. Hell, B got stabby with me more recently than my mother hexed anyone.”
“I suppose those are all valid points,” Giles said, cleaning his glasses. “I should point out, however, that once you request their help, you will have to take whatever is given.”
“Meaning I can’t just send the Aurors away again when I feel like it?” Faith asked wryly. “I seriously doubt I’m going to discover a sentimental attachment to whatever evil junk they find.”
“I was thinking more in terms of artifacts that might be of interest to the Council,” Giles replied.
“Oh. Hadn’t thought about that.”
Faith paused, then shook her head.
“Still think the Aurors are our best shot,” she decided. “Cause worst case scenario is little Dawnie here stumbling on something seriously deadly. Not only would I feel awful, Mrs. S would never forgive me.”
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Joss. Harry belongs to JKR. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Faith hits Diagon Alley with her entourage.
Word Count: 2070
Faith privately enjoyed the sound of the gravel crunching under her feet as they walked up the lane to her house. Her manor, actually. It was a weird thought. Of course, it was even bloody weirder to be back here. Having B and the Scooby Gang with her really put it over the top. She hoped her mother had been cremated, because otherwise she might damn well rise up out of her grave at the idea of her home being occupied by a Muggle, a Watcher, a Slayer, a Wiccan, and a Muggleborn.
And wasn’t that just hilarious- turned out both B and D were magic enough to work with wands. Whatever magical senses the creepy proprietor of Ollivander’s had must have gone off the charts when their party had walked into his shop. His face had practically lit up.
“Miss LeStrange! How unexpected. And your companions- are they New World witches?”
He was regarding both Buffy and her sister with frank appraisal. Buffy stepped protectively in front of her sister.
“The only witch here I know of besides me is Wiccan, so I don’t think she’s in the market for a wand,” Faith said flatly. “And it’s Lehane, actually. I haven’t gone by Lestrange since I was a kid.”
“As you prefer, Miss Lehane,” Ollivander had said, as if it didn’t matter to him- and by the time they’d left his shop, Faith was pretty sure it genuinely didn’t. The man lived and breathed wands.
“But your companions,” he continued, “are quite clearly witches. This one in particular has an impressive amount of raw power, though if she hasn’t been taught control by now, it’s unlikely we may expect much beyond average spellwork.”
He had been looking at Buffy as he spoke, and the last part was delivered as if it were a disappointment to him that he couldn’t expect greater.
“Me?” Buffy squeaked, as Faith choked back laughter at the sight of the usually laid back Slayer completely discombobulated. Evidently wand sellers were scarier than demons and vampires. “Faith’s the one wand shopping, the rest of us are just nosy!”
Ollivander made a slight harumph of disbelief, but turned back to Faith all the same, bringing out a tape measure.
“Very well, Miss Lehane, you first, and then the sisters. For those who do not understand this process, you would be well advised to stand back, as the reactions of wands to potential owners can be quite unpredictable.”
The Scoobies had exchanged slightly concerned looks but backed up as far as they could while still in the shop. Buffy frowned when Dawn didn’t back up enough, and tried to shoo her further back, but Dawn had hissed furiously that he said she was a witch, and she wanted to see how this worked!
“Hold out your wand arm, if you please, Miss Lehane,” Ollivander instructed.
She obligingly held out her right arm, and the tape measure went to work. Faith let it do its thing as Ollivander bustled about pulling boxes from shelves. By the time he recalled it, he had a small stack waiting.
“While I recall your parents wands quite well, your time away may have altered your approach to magic, so it is prudent to have a wider range to try than I would ordinarily start with,” he said.
“You remember her parents’ wands?” Dawn asked curiously.
“Bellatrix Black, 12¾ inches, walnut with dragon heartstring core, quite unyielding,” Ollivander said breezily. “Rodolphus Lestrange, 14 inches, blackthorn and dragon heartstring, firm but not overly so.”
“Whoa,” Dawn said, impressed. “He’s got like an eidetic memory for wands!”
Ollivander’s smile seemed a little dusty, as if it didn’t get out much.
“Indeed, Miss Summers, I recall every wand I’ve ever sold, and most of those I have handled whether they are of my own make or not.”
“Wow,” was all Dawn could manage, eyes wide as she glanced from proprietor to the well-stocked shelves of his shop. “That’s got to be thousands of wands plus the people to go with them…”
“Dawn, not now please,” Buffy said quietly.
“Let us begin, Miss Lehane,” Ollivander said, still looking faintly pleased that he was getting such a reaction from a customer. “12¼ inches, walnut, dragon heartstring. Give it a wave, if you would.”
Nothing happened, but Ollivander didn’t seem at all bothered.
“Not to worry, it isn't every witch who finds her match on the first try. 11½ inches, pine, dragon heartstring.”
“Why dragon heartstring?” Willow asked curiously.
“As both her parents’ wands contained cores of dragon heartstring, it is most likely that a wand containing the same core will choose Miss Lehane,” Ollivander explained. “It is far from an ironclad rule, however.”
Ollivander proved to be right, as the fifth wand he presented- red oak with dragon heartstring- finally did something positive, lighting up the room with some lovely green sparkles. Seeing that, Faith mentally groaned. Sparks were normal for a wand that had chosen its owner, but the superstition in Britain was that the colors reflected your Hogwarts house. She hoped Ollivander would keep her color to himself.
She paid for her wand and let Ollivander direct his attention to the Summers sisters.
“Um, Mr. Ollivander? As nice as it sounds to have a wand, I don’t know how I’m going to pay for it,” Buffy said apologetically. “I doubt you take credit cards.”
Ollivander looked faintly puzzled at the mention of Muggle methods of payment, but Giles intervened.
“I retrieved some wizarding currency from Gringotts while Faith was getting her money out,” he said. “The Council maintains an account. I see no reason why Council funds should not be used- it can be considered a weapon, after all.”
Buffy’s face lit up.
“I like weapons,” she said cheerfully. "I like them even better when someone else buys."
Ollivander glanced thoughtfully from one Summers to the other.
“So,” he mused. “Not just one but two Slayers. And a Slayer’s sister. This requires some thought. I do not believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of helping a Slayer choose a wand, let alone two in one day.”
Buffy and Faith both goggled at him.
“The existence of the Slayer is not a secret in the wizarding world,” Giles clarified from his seat by the door. “As such, someone as versed in the intricacies of magic as a wandmaker must be would certainly recognize a Slayer.”
Ollivander nodded.
“This is a rare treat,” he said, setting his tape measure to work on B as he flitted around choosing another set of boxes. “Especially with a Muggleborn Slayer.”
“Why especially a Muggleborn Slayer?” Dawn asked. “Is it because you have to see how well you can guess, since you can’t base it on our parents’ wands?”
Ollivander nodded, beaming.
“Have you considered studying wandlore, young lady? You are remarkably quick to pick up on these subtleties. I often find myself explaining them even to the wizardborn.”
Dawn chewed her lip thoughtfully.
“It sounds really interesting, but if I’m magic enough for a wand, I think I’d like to find out what options there are for me in the wizarding world before I commit to anything.”
Faith smirked. Privately she suspected Giles already had an eye on D for the Council, and if he sponsored her, it was probable she’d end up running it someday.
“If you decide the study of wandlore is for you, I might not be averse to taking an apprentice,” Ollivander said, setting a dozen boxes on the counter.
He ended up having to present twice that number to Buffy before she finally found her wand- redwood with phoenix feather, reminiscent of an unusually long, slender stake, and clearly prettier than B had been expecting. She pouted when she was told in no uncertain terms by Giles that she needed to put it away in its box until they finished their shopping trip.
Then it was Dawn’s turn. She peppered Ollivander with questions as he brought wand after wand for her to try- he needed more for her than Faith or Buffy, but to be fair, he’d also had less to go on with her. (Faith thought he might have also been drawing out the process, as it was doubtful many of his customers took such an interest in the process and the properties of the various wands.) She ended up with a maple and unicorn hair wand Ollivander described as ‘pleasantly springy’, and several book recommendations besides.
After Mr. Ollivander bowed them out of the shop in considerably better spirits than he’d been when they arrived, the group split up. Xander, Buffy, and Faith had already discovered their interests diverged from Giles, Willow, and Dawn, who could have happily spent the rest of the afternoon in the bookshop. What Xander dubbed the ‘fun crowd’ bounced gleefully from Magical Menagerie to Quality Quidditch to Florian Fortescue's via Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes before finally prying the bookworms loose for the trip back to the Grange.
“So,” Xander asked as they ambled up the lane toward the manor, “is it a rule that dark wizards’ houses have to look all creepy, or was it just your parents that decided to go for the dark and foreboding look?”
Faith frowned.
“Not sure,” she replied. “I’m less concerned about looks than effects- knowing Mummy dearest, we should probably request Ministry help checking the place for heavy-duty hexes and lethal booby traps.”
They’d spent the previous night camped out on the floor in the closest thing the Grange had to a living room, an enormous space that had fit them all comfortably with room to spare. Faith had insisted, well aware that there might be more unpleasant things than the portrait lurking in the house. Fortunately, the house elves hadn’t batted an eye when asked to serve dinner and breakfast there, though the oldest one had looked slightly disappointed.
“But you have wands now,” Willow protested. “Between us and Giles, shouldn’t we be able to check your house out without outside help?”
Faith shook her head.
“Not saying you’re not competent, Red,” she said gently, “but my parents were no slouches with magic and they hung around witches and wizards with some seriously nasty skills. I only know a handful of basic spells, and B and her midget-“
“Hey!” Dawn yelped indignantly.
“-hadn’t even seen wands before yesterday. I don’t want to trust that we’re picking up the spells correctly from the books you guys hauled back and risk someone getting damaged.”
“Do you think the Ministry would assist?” Giles asked cautiously. “I’m not averse to the idea of someone properly trained helping us do the requisite health and safety check, but they didn’t seem terribly thrilled about the idea of you returning to claim your inheritance.”
Faith shrugged.
“I think it was more about having to give up the gold that would have transferred to Ministry accounts if I hadn’t shown up within the requisite seven years. I’ll live. Their dislike won’t kill me, but some of the Dark artifacts I’m sure are stashed around here might. Or you, or the Xan-Man, or...”
“Yes, quite,” Giles agreed. “Will you contact the Ministry, or would you prefer I do it?”
Faith sighed. Tempting as it was to let Giles handle matters, she knew she really ought to.
“I will. B and I are supposed to be working on the grownup thing now that we’re over trying to kill each other, right? Besides, it’s been a couple years since the Lestranges were killed. Should be enough time for tempers to cool down. Hell, B got stabby with me more recently than my mother hexed anyone.”
“I suppose those are all valid points,” Giles said, cleaning his glasses. “I should point out, however, that once you request their help, you will have to take whatever is given.”
“Meaning I can’t just send the Aurors away again when I feel like it?” Faith asked wryly. “I seriously doubt I’m going to discover a sentimental attachment to whatever evil junk they find.”
“I was thinking more in terms of artifacts that might be of interest to the Council,” Giles replied.
“Oh. Hadn’t thought about that.”
Faith paused, then shook her head.
“Still think the Aurors are our best shot,” she decided. “Cause worst case scenario is little Dawnie here stumbling on something seriously deadly. Not only would I feel awful, Mrs. S would never forgive me.”