chapter Seven: Faith, Hope & Magic Tricks part 2

**September 1, 1998 – Hogwarts Great Hall**

'How did Harry ever put up with this?' thought Hermione, taking in the "subtle" glances and obvious stares some of the students were sending her way. The first years acting this way, she could stomach, but so many of the others had spent at least a year with her in the castle. Hogwarts had always been a place of learning and camaraderie, but now it felt like a spotlight was permanently fixed on her.

Logically, Hermione knew being the only member of Hogwarts' "Golden Trio" returning to the school was going to make her stand out, but she was still shocked when the first student had approached her for an autograph. The bizarre new status quo did not end with her being the center of attention. Of the thirty first-years starting lessons at Hogwarts, only three had been sorted into Slytherin; and all three of them looked utterly crestfallen about that. The fact that no Slytherin students stood with the defenders during the Second Battle of Hogwarts was well known by everyone. Hermione could only hope the Slytherins' new infamy would lead to a reformation of that house, as opposed to making the situation worse. Professor Slughorn had quite the uphill battle ahead of himself.

The Great Hall itself had undergone subtle changes since the battle. The enchanted ceiling still reflected the weather outside, currently showing a clear, serene sky, but there were now commemorative banners and plaques honoring those who had fought and fallen. The tables were filled with students, but there was an underlying tension, a sense of things not quite returning to normal.

Hermione looked around the Great Hall, seeking familiar faces. Over at the Ravenclaw table, Luna was her typical self; staring dreamily off into space, but still paying attention to the conversations around her. The looks of admiration and respect Luna was receiving from her housemates let Hermione know Luna would not have to put up with her items going missing from the dorm ever again.

At the Head Table, Hagrid was in a lively conversation with a stern-looking, blonde-haired male professor that Hermione could only guess was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. A smirk appeared on her face as she wondered if Voldemort's demise would mean the one-year curse on the position would prove lifted.

At the opposite end of the table, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see Trelawny politely conversing with Firenze. Sybil had certainly turned herself around since the battle; learning she had been the one to make the prophecy regarding Voldemort and Harry had given her a confidence she had sorely lacked for years that allowed her to no longer view the Centaurs' methods as a threat.

Hermione's eyes finally settled on the seat across from her, and the simmering pot of indignation that was Ginny Weasley. Hermione assumed that Ginny was still thinking about Harry; otherwise, the chicken on her plate had somehow wronged the girl personally.

"Ginny? What's wrong?" Hermione knew it was a stupid question without the glare Ginny was now shooting her, but needed to get her talking.

"He's not coming back," Ginny said softly, barely audible over the din of the Great Hall.

"Of course he's coming back. He'll see us all on Halloween. You heard him."

Ginny unceremoniously let her fork drop to the table. "That's not what I mean." Ginny squirmed at her next thought. "He's going to leave…us."

"I don't see that happening."

"Since he's left, he's only gone to Muggle cities. He's only stayed at Muggle hotels. And except for shopkeepers and bartenders, all of the people he's interacted with have been Muggles. He's going to leave us." Ginny had delivered that last sentence in a whisper, noticing she was drawing attention.

Hermione was in a tough position. Ginny was partially right, especially considering what Harry had told her this morning, but the last thing she needed was for Ginny to get hysterical. 'Do I betray Harry's trust and tell her, or do I betray her trust and lie?' Hermione thought to herself.

"Ginny, it's possible you're misreading things," Hermione had decided to hedge her bets. "He said he wanted to travel incognito. All of those Muggle cities he's gone to have all had magical sections of town. He's stayed at Muggle hotels because he can make his money stretch further using Muggle currency. And as you know, even trying to avoid his fame, he's stumbled upon Muggles who are aware of who he is."

Ginny's expression had softened to some degree, but Hermione saw some of the Weasley temper still remained.

"He's sticking around for those 'Scoobies,'" Ginny pouted. "I thought after the war, the last thing he'd want to do is fight monsters."

"You forget, Ginny, his plan is to enter the Auror academy when he comes back. There will be plenty of dangers he'll have to face in that job, too." Hermione saw Ginny pause at that comment and decided to put a more light-hearted finish to her argument. "Besides, he still has that 'saving people thing' of his." Hermione chuckled at the grin that managed to escape onto Ginny's face. "How could he pass up a whole town needing saving?"

Further laughter was prevented as the stern-faced Minerva McGonagall stepped to the podium in front of the Staff table, and called on the students' attention.

"Welcome, new students. And to returning students, welcome back…"

**September 1, 1998 – Sunnydale High – Library**

It had been just over seven years since Harry had last been in a Muggle school. He took in the lockers and the vending machines that had been absent from his primary school days, but couldn't help grinning about the things that were universal in any school. There were cliques of friends in the hall, ignoring anyone outside their circle. One or two couples were holding hands, or showing whatever public displays of affection they could get away with. But what was most endearing to him was the pair of friends chatting away as they approached the library.

"It's so cool you're a school-girl again," Willow said as she and Buffy led the way into the library.

"Yeah, Mom and I were able to get past Snyder. I just have a few make-up tests, and then all is back to normal."

Willow turned to Harry, continuing her disjointed tour. "This is the library. I don't know how it compares to the one at your magic school, but it's pretty nice. The stacks are back there, and Giles keeps more gruesome items locked up over there," she explained, pointing to the various locations.

The Sunnydale High library was a mix of the mundane and the mystical. The central area was filled with tables and chairs, perfect for studying or group meetings. The stacks were neatly organized, with a surprising number of books on the occult and supernatural. A locked cage at the side of the room housed the more dangerous artifacts and tomes.

Harry took in the locked cage on the side of the room. "Seems more secure than the Restricted Section. Madam Pince tried her best, but we'd always find ways past her." Harry grinned at remembering the number of times his cloak had come in handy with late-night research runs.

"Did she ever get so upset that she would start making these weird clucking sounds with her tongue? Giles does this all the time when he's trying to be real British and hold back his emotions. He did it all the time while Buffy was away." It was at this moment that Giles rose up from under the counter, with a bundle of sage and a pestle in his hands.

"Uh, Wills…" Buffy muttered. Willow nervously turned around.

"Oh, hey, Giles. Been there long?" Willow went nervously quiet at the barely suppressed expression of annoyance on Giles' face. Giles' expression softened when he turned his attention to Buffy.

"Buffy, I'm glad you're here." Giles set the items in his hands on the counter before pulling up various powders and implements. "I could use your help on something."

"Sure. What's up?"

"Looks like a ritual of some kind," Harry said, picking up one of the bowls of powder.

"Actually, yes; a binding ritual. Are you familiar with it?"

Harry frowned in consternation before looking back at Giles. "Not really. Most of what we were taught about rituals was identifying them and the basic theory. At least, the classes I took. I have no idea what all Hermione learned in Ancient Runes or Arithmancy."

Harry set down the bowl, only then noticing the blank look on Buffy's face and the excitement on Willow's.

"Suddenly, my English exam doesn't seem so bad," cracked Buffy.

"Your school sounds so awesome," exclaimed Willow.

Giles shook himself out of his reverie. "Yes, well, anyway… I was going to perform the binding on Acathla to be sure no one could open the portal again. There's a litany one has to perform in Aramaic, very long, very precise. To perform the ritual correctly, I need to get some specific details from you, Buffy."

"Fire away."

"Acathla's portal was opened around 6:15, local time? About thirty minutes after Xander rescued me?"

"Less. More like ten minutes after you left."

Giles made a note on a pad in his hand. "And Acathla was facing South?"

"Yep."

Giles made another note as he moved to look for something in a pile by some drawers.

"And when you killed Angel, the portal was already opened?"

Harry's eyebrow went up in curiosity at this. 'That seems an odd question to ask,' Harry thought to himself.

"Barely."

"And how exactly were you positioned?"

Buffy tapped three spots in a line. "Me, Angel, Acathla." With her opposite hand, she ran a finger through the last two spots. "Sword. Anything else?"

Giles shook his head as he set his pad down. "Not at the moment. But do let me know if you think of anything else."

Buffy silently nodded her head, until she spotted the clock. "Oh, man. I got to get going; I've got a make-up English test to take." She headed toward the exit, turning at the door. "They give you credit just for speaking it, right?"

Harry, Willow, and Giles shared quiet looks of concern, not sure if Buffy was serious.

"Didn't think so," Buffy sighed as she stepped out.

Willow picked the bundle of sage off of the counter. "Mmm, I love the smell of sage." Willow excitedly set down the sage, snatching a twisted looking root from a nearby jar. "And Marnock's Root? You know, a pinch of this, mixed with a virgin's saliva—"

Willow paused when she caught Giles' glower.

"—Does something I am absolutely unfamiliar with." Willow muttered as she returned the root.

'I don't remember learning anything like that in Potions,' thought Harry. 'I would have paid more attention learning stuff like that.'

"These forces are not something to be messed around with." Giles approached Willow. "What have you been conjuring?"

"Nothing," Willow nervously answered, "…much. There was the spell to cure Angel, which was pretty much a bust. And beyond that, just little stuff; floating feather, fire out of ice. Which, next time, I won't do on the bedspread."

Giles was about to say something, but Harry cut in. "All that without a wand? That's impressive."

Willow smiled at Harry before turning back to Giles. "Are you mad at me?"

Giles released a heavy sigh before speaking. "No, of course not. If I were, I'd be making a strange clucking sound with my tongue."

Willow attempted an innocent expression, before giving up the ghost and looking apologetic. "I better head off to lunch, now. You coming, Harry?"

"I'll catch up. I want to talk to Mr. Giles for a bit."

Willow nodded before walking out the door.

Harry stepped up to the counter across from Giles.

"Harry, you're not a student, and you've saved me, so I think you can call me Giles, like the others."

"For this conversation, I think it might be best if I keep it formal. Speaking to you more as a colleague than a friend."

Giles wiped his glasses before returning them to his face. "You want to know how much I know of the Wizarding world?"

Harry nodded silently.

"From personal experience, not much that I am aware of; though I assume the Council has a wizard or two on speed dial. Before I was sent to Sunnydale, all field agents in Britain were briefed about the approaching war. This summer, I was sent a memo that the war was over."

"That doesn't tell me how you knew so much about me."

Giles grinned slightly. "Then you're either very modest, or you don't realize how much of the briefing was spent on your exploits."

Harry tensed up at the meaning of those words. "How much does your organization know about me?"

Giles patted Harry on the shoulder. "The Watchers' Council was only interested in your world when non-magical civilians were being harmed. From what I gathered, we try not to intervene otherwise."

"So you're not going to pump me for information?"

"I doubt I could if I tried."

Harry smirked as he nodded. "Just wanted to know if you were going to try to wriggle details out of me like you did Buffy."

Giles' face fell as he stepped around the counter. "I'll admit my ruse is a tad thin, but if I try directly to get Buffy to talk about what happened, she will throw up a wall. If she does that, whatever trauma lies underneath will fester and eat further away at her. Simply being back isn't enough to heal her."

Harry could only nod at this. "That's a good reason. In my opinion, don't push any further than you already have. I think I can speak from experience when I say 'no one likes to be manipulated.'"

Harry reached out with his right hand. "Thanks, Giles."

Giles warmly shook Harry's hand. "You're welcome, Harry."

**Sunnydale Motel**

That evening, Harry sat at the small table inside his room, hunched over a sheet of parchment, finishing his letter to Ginny and Hermione. The motel was a far cry from the comforts of Hogwarts or the Burrow. The walls were thin, and the furnishings were basic and worn, but it provided the anonymity Harry needed. Once completed, he sealed the letter in an envelope and whistled merrily as he slipped his wand into his pocket on his way out the door…bumping right into Faith.

"Oh, sorry about that," Harry apologized.

"No worries, Scar," Faith replied.

"'Scar'?"

"Don't worry, I give everyone I meet nicknames. It's my thing," Faith said with a grin.

"Uh-huh. Did you ever find the ice machine?"

"Would you believe it's out of order?"

Harry looked up and down the rundown hotel's floor. "Yes. Yes, I would."

It was then Harry noticed Faith's outfit. She was dressed in a top that was sleeveless, in that the sleeves did not connect to the torso, leaving her shoulders bare. There was also an opening in the top, revealing her chest and the slightest hint of cleavage, with only some bangles providing cover. Her usual skin-tight pants and boots combo completed the outfit. Harry was doing his best not to stare, but he recognized an attention-seeking outfit when he saw one.

"Going out?" Harry asked conversationally.

"Yeah, well, a girl's gotta have a nightlife." Faith looked Harry up-and-down, seeing the envelope in his hands. "Isn't it a little late to be mailing a letter?"

Harry had been somewhat prepared for a question like this; you don't use public owls without coming up with a cover story for curious Muggles.

"I use a special courier service. They're open late."

"Cool. When you're done, swing by the Bronze. It's the only decent club in town; not really hard to find."

Harry hesitated in responding to the very alluring, and outgoing brunette. "I just might do that."

Faith lightly ran a hand along Harry's arm. "Don't keep a girl waiting too long, Scar." With a parting wink and a smile, Faith continued on her way toward the stairs. Harry watched her walk away; certain she was putting extra sway in her hips.

It was a few moments before Harry shook himself out of his daze and smacked the back of his head. "Bad Harry!"

Harry looked around, making sure no one was watching as he spun on the spot and apparated away with a soft crack sound. A sound that a dark-haired slayer thought was gum popping.

**Silver Dragon**

Harry stepped into the welcoming environment of the Silver Dragon. Many of the regulars looked up from their drinks, or whatever they were currently doing, to give a small nod in Harry's direction. The pub was a mix of the mundane and the magical, with wooden beams and cozy corners that reminded Harry of the Leaky Cauldron, but with a distinctly Californian twist.

'I guess I should try to learn some of their names,' Harry thought as he waved to the room in general.

Gil stood with his arms crossed on his chest as Harry approached. He held out a hand, palm up, when Harry was in reach. "You know, I may have to get an extra owl, just to keep up with all these letters you're sending."

Harry handed over the envelope. "Well, you can talk to my loved ones then, and ask them to demand fewer updates."

Gil snorted aloud. "After the bits of them on the warpath we all overheard? No thank you. Gilbert Nathaniel Sullivan is no fool."

Harry paused momentarily, thinking about Gil's full name. "Your parents named you 'Gilbert N. Sullivan'?"

Gil frowned and released an exasperated sigh. "My parents thought they were being funny."

"Could be worse; they could have named you Sue." Harry chuckled.

"That's my second-cousin on my mother's side. He's not exactly the happiest member of the Suetio family."

Harry was uncertain how serious Gil was at the moment. "Now you're just having me on."

Gil grimly shook his head. "My aunt Theresa is a huge Phil Collins fan."

Harry rolled his eyes, opting not to take the bait. "I'll just have a butterbeer."

The pub had a wide selection of drinks, both magical and non-magical, but Harry always found comfort in the familiar taste of butterbeer. As Gil poured his drink, Harry took a moment to observe the other patrons. There was a mix of witches, wizards, and Muggles who were in the know, creating a unique atmosphere of camaraderie and secrecy.

**The Bronze**

Buffy lowered herself into an overstuffed chair across from a kissing Willow and Oz. Her smile was big enough that when the couple acknowledged her presence, Willow immediately started in on her.

"Are you… Is she glowing?" Willow turned to Oz as Buffy gave a non-committal shrug.

"There's definitely some 'glowy-ness' about her," Oz agreed

. "What's the good news, Buffy?"

"I passed my English make-up exam," she said, her smile growing wider. "Back in school, at the Bronze, with my friends. 'Hello, my life; how I've missed you.'"

"Is Harry coming by tonight?"

"I told him we'd all be here. It seemed likely he would." Buffy scanned the crowd, in case Harry had already arrived.

The Bronze was the local hotspot in Sunnydale, a place where teens and young adults gathered to unwind, dance, and forget about the supernatural dangers lurking in their town. The interior was dimly lit, with a stage for live bands and a dance floor that was currently packed with energetic patrons.

Willow grinned as she saw Buffy searching the room. "He's pretty cute, isn't he?"

Buffy's eyes returned to Willow's cheery face. "Yeah, he is. But he's got a girlfriend back home."

"Are you sure that's not just something he made up to impress you? Not a lot of effort to change 'I've got a girlfriend who lives in Canada' to 'lives in England,'" Oz joked.

"I don't think Harry's the kind of guy to play those kinds of games," Buffy responded.

Willow's smile widened a little bit. "Buffy's right. Harry's far too much of a gentleman to do that sort of thing."

Before Buffy could respond to Willow's not-so-subtle hint, Cordelia joined the group with Xander in tow.

"Take a look at Super-Tramp out there, dancing it up with Disco Dave."

Buffy craned her neck to see to whom Cordelia was referring. On the dance floor, she spotted a wavy-haired brunette in skin-tight pants and a dark top with disconnected sleeves and a cleavage-revealing neckline dancing all over a guy who seemed to be a transplant from Saturday Night Fever.

"I don't think his fashion sense has seen the light of day in a long time," Cordelia critiqued aloud.

"I don't think he's seen any sunlight at all in a long time," Buffy said, sensing a bad vibe from the scenario.

Her bad vibe was kicked up a notch when the guy leaned close, whispering something in the brunette's ear. The brunette nodded eagerly and allowed 'Disco Dave' to lead her toward the exit.

"Oh, crap," Buffy muttered, getting to her feet.

**Silver Dragon**

Harry set down the empty butterbeer bottle and a few sickles.

"Well, I have some friends to meet over at the Bronze. Thanks again for everything, Gil. Though, I'm only going to believe maybe half of the things you say from now on," Harry said jovially.

"That tends to happen, the more people get to know me," the barman replied. "Have a good night, Harry."

"You too. Goodnight, everyone," Harry called out across the bar. A few muttered 'good nights' were offered his way. Before he could reach for the handle, two lights, one red, one blue, lit up next to the door.

"Hold up, Harry," Gil called out. "You might want to wait a moment."

Harry examined the lights before turning back to Gil. "What do the lights mean?"

"Red light is connected to a vampire detecting ward. Picks up when one of them's out in the alleyway. The blue light is the Slayer detecting ward. Should just be a second until…" Gil was halted when the blue light started to blink.

"What's that mean," Harry asked.

"Well, the light goes out when the subject is out of range or dead, but I've never seen the Slayer light blink like—"

Harry didn't hear anymore as he was already rushing out the door, wand in hand.

**Alley Between Bronze and Silver Dragon**

Harry ran out into the alleyway in time to see Faith throw a vampire against a fence before staking him in the heart. She made her way back toward the waiting Scoobies, brushing dust off her hands.

"Thanks, B, couldn't have done it without you."

"Faith?!" Harry finally spat out.

Faith spun around, dropping into a ready stance before recognition washed over her face. "Hey, Scar."

"Scar?" Buffy asked Harry.

"Oh, hey, Buffy," Harry said bashfully.

Faith looked at the wand in his hand. "I appreciate the offer of backup, Scar, but I don't think that stake could do much damage."

"That's not a stake," Willow said in explanation. "It's a wand. He's a wizard."

"Wizard, huh?" Faith took another appreciative look at Harry. "Wicked."

Harry made a connection with what he was seeing and what the indicator light was doing. "You're a Slayer, aren't you? The wards were detecting two, that's why it was blinking."

Cordelia looked around the alleyway. "Where did you come from, anyway?"

'Oh, shit,' thought Harry.