The Watcher and the Wizards

Disclaimer: Most characters featured in this story are not of my creation. They belong to their respective creators, J.K. Rowling, Joss Whedon, and any and all parties related to Bloombury Publishing, Scholastic Inc., AOL/Time-Warner, Fox, and Mutant Enemy. Grrrr, arrgh.

Chapter 2

"Crunchy frog," said Giles.

The stone gargoyle moved to one side, revealing the entrance to Dumbledore's office.  Giles looked within, a little apprehensive about what he might find in there.  After taking a look around the hallways to make sure no one else was watching, he slipped through the entrance.

"Albus?" Giles called.

"Ah, Rupert, come in, come in," a voice from within answered, echoing through the chamber.

Giles entered Dumbledore's office, his gaze taken by the bird sitting on a perch beside the door.  "Good Lord, is that a phoenix?" he asked.

Dumbledore smiled.  "Yes, that is a phoenix.  You may pet him if you'd like.  His name is Fawkes."

"Fawkes?  Really?" Giles couldn't help but smirk at the meaning of the name.  He reached out and patted the bird gently on the head.  "In all my years, I've never seen a phoenix before.  They are beautiful creatures.  All the creatures I've seen are ugly...evil..."

"Come, sit.  We've much to discuss," Dumbledore indicated an empty chair set in front of his desk as he took his own seat behind it.

Giles sat down, feeling a bit like the young lad he was when he visited the headmaster's office so long ago.  That was after his teacher confiscated his copy of the Handbook, was't it?  Why did he remember that?  Why when he hadn't thought about it for years?  "What do you need to discuss with me?  Have my classes been...unsatisfactory?"

"No, it's nothing like that," Dumbledore said, chuckling gently.  "In fact, most of the students have nothing but good things to say about their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.  Some are surprised that a Muggle could know so much, firsthand.  I daresay that most of Hogwarts likes you."

"All except the Slytherins, of course," Giles added.

"It is difficult for them to understand someone like you," Dumbledore explained.  "As a Muggle, you are beneath them.  They believe that all wizards should be pure-blooded, not 'tainted' by the blood of Muggles.  A most troubling concept, if I may say so.  But there are Muggles such as you, Watchers and others like the Slayer, who freely use magic in their battle against the dark."

"All the magic I know comes from books.  Books written when the Muggle and wizarding worlds weren't as divided as they are today," Giles explained.  "It was a time when Muggles and wizards shared knowledge."

"Ah, it is that shared knowledge that I need to talk with you about, Rupert," Dumbledore said.  "How many of your books have you brought with you?"

"All of them, I suspect.  Many of them are sacred texts, tomes that I do not wish to fall into the wrong hands so I brought them with me.  Things that might end up catalogued in the Restricted Section of the library if I ever let Madam Pince look at them."

"Ah, excellent," Dumbledore said, looking very pleased. "As you know, Voldemort has gained considerable power within the past year.  It is a very dangerous time for wizards and Muggles alike, which is why I've brought you here.  Not only are you a Watcher, but you do have, in your possession, books containing spells that have been lost to us, lost to the wizarding world.  Old magic, ancient magic.  We may need those when the time comes..."

"Voldemort wouldn't be powerful enough to attack Hogwarts directly," Giles said.  "Would he?"

"It is difficult to say," Dumbledore sighed.  "The amount of power within his grasp now has never been reached by any other wizard, as far I know.  That is why we will need your books.  And we will need you, Rupert."

"That's why you've taken me on as a teacher here," Giles said quietly.

"Yes," Dumbledore said.  "Even as a Muggle, you can harness powerful magic, which can be used for good or evil.  Rupert, you are in a precarious position.  Watcher to the Slayer, relative to the Potters, and Muggle who knows magic.  What would Voldemort give to be in control of you."

"Is that why I'm at Hogwarts now?  To protect me from the Dark Lord?"

"One of the reasons, yes," Dumbledore said.  "Oh, how impolite of me!  Inviting you into my office without something proper to drink.  Would tea be sufficient?"

Giles grinned slightly.  "Yes, that would be fine."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, smiling widely.  He took out his wand from the folds of his robe and conjured up two cups of steaming tea.  "It's Earl Gray."

"Ah, thank you!"  Giles said gratefully as he reached for the teapcup closer to him.  He sipped.  "This is perfect."

"Not only do you need to be protected," Dumbledore said in-between sips.  "You need to keep an eye on Harry.  Sirius Black is unable to, since he's still a fugitive.  It would be nice for Harry to have some family here."

"I haven't spoken to him since I've arrived here," Giles said.  "I've been too busy with classes.  Perhaps I should invite him for a talk one of these days."

Despite this being his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry found that the school still help a few surprises.  The best surprise, Harry thought, was the discovery that he had a relation who was still living, and who had a strong interest in magic. One day, during the morning Owl Post, Harry received a short note from Rupert Giles, inviting him to his office for a chat.  The note said that he could invite friends as well, but Harry decided that he should go alone.  As much as he enjoyed the friendship of Ron and Hermione, there were some things he wanted to keep solely for himself.

After dinner that day, Harry hurried over to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, where Rupert Giles was waiting.

Giles was sitting on his desk as Harry made his way inside. "Hello, Harry.  Have a seat," Giles said, indicating the empty chair next to the desk.

Harry gratefully sat down.

"Well, um," Giles began to say, his tone awkward.  "It's been a while since we've last talked.  I wanted to meet you again, catch up on things, make sure you're doing alright..."

"Everything's fine, considering, You-Know-Who is still on the prowl."

Giles nodded.  "Doing well in your classes, are you?"

Harry suddenly had trouble meeting Giles' gaze with his own eyes.

Giles smiled slightly.  "Don't be worried, Harry.  I wasn't going to repremand you or anything.  I know how it is with schoolwork.  Well, not magical schoolwork obviously, but still, I've had to study very hard to become a Watcher."

Harry finally looked at Giles.  "What else can you tell me about my Mum?"

"Lily," Giles sighed.  "Your mother had the most vivacious personality I'd ever known.  She...she made me want to live during times I wish I'd never been born.  I've never told her that.  I wanted to see her grow up and marry, and have a family.  And she did all of those things.  In fact, when I first met the Slayer I thought...well, it's silly, really, but...she reminded me so much of Lily.  I knew I had to protect Buffy Summers, in the same way I wanted to protect your mother."

"You said you were there the night Voldemort killed my parents," Harry said.

"Yes, I was, but I was already too late.  I've never forgiven myself for not being there to protect Lily.  It was all I could do to get you out of there before the house imploded."

"So you saved me," Harry said slowly.

"You saved yourself from Voldemort's curse," Giles countered.  "All I did was get you into Hagrid's arms and off to the Dursleys.  And there were times during your early childhood that I thought we had made a huge mistake in leaving you there, with them.  Petunia...she was always a great pain.  Do you know, she hates my side of the family, the Watchers' side, about as much as she hates the wizarding side?"

"That's difficult to imagine," Harry said.  "At least your side is all-Muggle.  It's me and my Mum Aunt Petunia called 'freaks'. "

"My father was a Watcher, as was my grandmother.  The skills run in the family, and Dad knew I had what it takes to bcome a Watcher.  But, I've a bit of a temper, I'm afraid."

Harry raised his eyebrows.  It was as if someone had told him that the ocean was pink and tiger-striped.  That just wasn't possible.

"Oh, yes," Giles nodded, smirking at Harry's reaction.  "I was a bit wild during my younger days.  'Ripper' they used to call me.  I know it's difficult to imagine tweedy old Giles as a troublemaker, a bully."

"And my Mum, she...she got you out of all that?"

"Yes she did, Harry," Giles replied.  "I was in the depths of the darkest magicks imaginable when I had heard the news that Lily had been accepted at Hogwarts.  She saved me.  Gave me a reason to stop meddling in the Dark Arts, and I'll always be grateful."

Harry didn't seem to be paying too much attention.  In fact, to Giles, Harry appeared to be extremely ill.  Harry was rapidly massaging the scar upon his forehead.

"Harry?" Giles asked, concerned.  He got up from his seat and rushed towards the young man.  "Harry, are you alright?"

"My scar's...burning..." Harry managed to say.  "Only happens when Voldemort's nearby..."

Giles frowned.  Then he cried out in excruciating pain.  "Oh, good Lord!  What in heaven's name...?"  His left arm felt like it was on fire.  Removing his coat and rolling up his shirtsleeve, Giles saw that the Mark of Eyghon tattooed on his forearm was glowing, outlined with a brilliant reddish-orange.  Then Giles noticed Harry staring hard at the tattoo.  The young man's face was a mixture of fear and disgust.  And betrayal.  "I-It's not what you think, Harry!" Giles blurted out, but it was already too late.  Harry had bolted out of the office, fleeing from what he knew was a Death Eater, a servant of Voldemort.  "Dammit!" Giles spat as he rubbed the tattoo.  The pain wasn't going away, but he had new things to worry about.  How was he going to convince the student body of Hogwarts that he wasn't a Death Eater?

"Rupert," a low voice said behind him.  "What in the world did you say to make young Mr. Potter run like that?"

"Severus," Giles moaned.  "Get out.  I'm in no mood for this, for anything," he said, rolling down his shirtsleeve.  "That was between Harry and I, no one else, so we have nothing to talk about."

"Oh, I think we have much to discuss," Snape said, leaning in closer to Giles.  "For instance, what is a Muggle like you doing with a mark of demonic possession on his arm?"

"I was young, and very stupid," Giles countered.  "I believe you know the type."

Snape stayed silent for a long while.  "Which demon did you summon?" he said, finally.

"I've told you, it's none of your damned business, so leave me be!" Giles muttered, his hand still clutching at the pain in his arm.

Snape smirked.  "Ah, so Dumbledore's little Muggle pet has some teeth after all.  I know Dumbledore hired you for a reason.  He always has his reasons.  Myself?  I'm simply wondering why your mark would start burning now.  Marks like those simply don't.  They're not imbued with magic...usually.  In any case, Rupert.  If I were you, I'd watch my back."

"I could say the exact same thing to you, Severus, especially with you actually being a Death Eater at one time," Giles said.

Snape just gazed at Giles and then made his way out of the room.  Giles sighed heavily and rolled up his sleeve.  His tattoo was no longer glowing, and he was no longer in pain.  Why would his mark burn so, and at exactly the same time as Harry's scar?   And was it a coincidence that Snape was nearby?  Questions with no answers, and Giles had trouble sleeping that night as he pondered them.  What he wouldn't give for a Scoobie or two to help him with research.