Giles looked around at the bustling terminal of Heathrow and nodded with a broad smile. "Yes, Xander, this would be England."
"I thought it would be bigger," The dark-haired youth shot a mischievous smirk in Giles' direction, awaiting the inevitable glare that would follow.
The small group of six from Sunnydale were standing at the conveyer belt, awaiting their luggage, after the long flight from California, via Tennessee and a changeover at New York's John F. Kennedy Airport.
The mode of transport seemed fairly mundane, considering the place they were going to, but Giles had insisted he would feel better about them using public transport, as opposed to risking losing one or all of them with Floo-Powder.
A portkey had also been discarded as a possible mode of transport for the group, but solely for the fact that the powers of the Hellmouth often made them behave strangely and meant they frequently deposited their users in the middle of nowhere.
Giles had decided it wouldn’t be the best of ideas to have the youngest Weasley ending up in Moldavia, or somewhere just as bizarre, while he tried to explain to her family that she had accidentally gotten misplaced.
Again.
Especially since it was the first time they were going to be meeting her on a face-to-face basis.
It had been nearly six months since the revelations of Willow's parentage and now, it was the middle of June and the red-haired witch was coming to meet the family she had been in contact with since the day Dumbledore had visited her.
From that day, to the one that had brought them to the airport in England, Willow had been receiving and sending owl-mails to her family, learning about who they were and what they were like.
She had already confessed to Buffy that she had a sort-of-favourite, in the form of Ron, the youngest of her elder brothers, who had written to her on an almost daily basis, with all the updates of what was and wasn’t happening in their family.
He reminded her a lot of Xander, with a strange sense of humour and a knack of making her smile with a few choice words, even if they were written down, instead of said to her face.
His weeny owl, Pigwidgeon, had often spent a day sleeping on her bed, after delivering a weeks worth of letters, which Willow would reply to all of and send back in one large batch.
Both of them had been pleasantly surprised that the little bird hadn’t had a heart attack somewhere over the Atlantic.
The bird, despite it’s size, was resilient and apparently loved doing the deliveries, which made it all the cuter when it started hooting excitedly, when Willow tied a letter to it’s little leg.
Now, less than two hours away from the place she would meet her family, Willow was starting to look a little pale.
"So, Will, how does it feel being back in your homeland?"
"I-I'm not sure I can do this."
"And you didn't think to tell us this, before we travelled half way around the world?"
Buffy punched Xander's arm, making the boy yelp. "Shut up, Xander," She reached over to squeeze Willow's hand comfortingly. "Of course you can do this, Will. This is nothing. You're just meeting your family for the first time. No big."
"Can't I just go back and close the Hellmouth again?" the red head asked hopefully, a worried look on her face. "I mean, what if they don't like me and think I'm weird and they don't want to be related to me or they laugh at me and think I'm crazy..."
"They're going to love you, Willow," Oz said quietly to her, with his familiar, quiet smile. His hands came to rest at her waist, his touch soothing her. "Who wouldn't?"
"You really think so?"
His fingertips drifted up her side and down one arm, to skim her fingers lightly and he nodded with certainty. "I know so."
"And even if they do hate you, you got a free vacation from the nice Wizard with the big beard," Anya put in brightly, smiling. The former demon really seemed very taken with Dumbledore. "I think they will like you though. Most people do," she paused, then added. "Except I don't really."
Willow smiled faintly, then turned her attention to the Englishman further down the conveyor belt. "Where did you say we were going to meet them, Giles?" she asked. "Will it just be them or will there be a lot of people?"
"You've heard of The Leaky Cauldron from your reading?"
"Uh-huh."
"That's where we're going to," Giles paused to snatch a small duffle bag off the belt and drop it at his feet. "Dumbledore will have arranged something, so you can have some privacy. The rest of us will be dropping into Diagon Alley."
"That's the place with the stores, right?"
"Yes, Buffy," the Watcher said with a long-suffering sigh. "That's where all the shops are," A small, slightly devious smile edged onto his lips. "I'm sure you're going to find it a fascinating place to visit."
"You know, when you say somewhere is a ‘fascinating place’, I think I should be worrying," The Slayer pulled a face at him.
Giles chuckled. "You understand my secret code words so well, Buffy, I think I should begin to worry about you," He nodded to a large, hefty-looking case on the conveyor belt, smiling as the petite blonde swung it off easily and dropped it at her feet with a weight ‘thump’. "And my own mental health..."
"G-Man, we always worry about your mental health," Xander remarked, snatching his khaki-coloured, patched rucksack as it passed him.
"Alexander LaVelle Harris," the former Librarian replied seriously, hiding a smirk as the younger man flinched. "While we are here, on my terms and territory, I would be obliged if you didn't call me G-Man ever."
"Why?"
"Because I am a Wizard and I happen to think you would make a very fetching frog," Giles gave him a slight smile edged with just enough of Ripper-style glee to make the teenager shudder. "Have we reached an understanding?"
Xander nodded hastily. "Completely."
"You can't turn my boyfriend into a frog!" Anya exclaimed in annoyance. "We wouldn't be able to have sex if he was a frog!" Her brow wrinkled. "Well, we could, but I don't think it would be very satisfying for either of us."
All of this was said in a loud and very audible voice, receiving startled and amused looks from other travellers gathered near the busy conveyor belt.
"Anya, not so loud, honey," Xander muttered, pulling her against his chest. "Some things aren’t for public outbursts."
Anya pouted, toying with the round plastic buttons on the front of his shirt. "But I don't want him to turn you into a frog, Xander," she said, sounding a little hurt. "You would probably be a very attractive frog, but you wouldn't be a very good orgasm friend...or boyfriend."
"You heard her, Giles," Buffy put in dryly, rolling her eyes. "You wouldn't want Anya to miss her orgasm quota for the day."
"See!" the former demon exclaimed, with a broad smile in Buffy's direction. "Even Buffy understands that I have needs."
Giles rolled his eyes with a low groan. "God help the Wizarding world..."
***
"Bill, at least brush your hair."
"It's fine, mum."
Molly wrung her hands, trying to get the rest of the family organised. Even though they were all adults, she still didn't trust a single one of them to dress themselves properly. "I just want to make a good impression."
"We know, mum," Fred sighed, looking down at his carefully-ironed jeans and shirt that he had been forced to wear. It had taken begging, pleading and on-his-knees howling to convince his mother to even let him wear something as casual as that.
However, he - along with each of his brothers - had managed to persuade Molly that wearing a tuxedo and black bow-tie was a little bit too much.
Tugging at the end of his shirt, sighing, Fred shook his head. He was already missing the messy lab coat that was a constant part of his wardrobe.
"I'll leave you all to meet her first," Harry volunteered, drawing some dark looks from his brothers-in-law. He was the only member of the family who had not been told to flatten his hair about ten times already. Or to change out of the comfortable clothes he was wearing. Or breathe in a more ‘normal’ way. "I'm meant to be meeting Viktor about some new Quidditch techniques."
Arthur nodded vaguely, looking through the drawers in the kitchen. "Very good, Harry... Molly, where did you put my blue and green checked tie?"
"Its hanging up in the wardrobe in the bedroom, where it always is, dear," Molly replied, taking a shot with her wand at an uncontrollable tuft of George's hair that refused to lie flat. "Stay still, George! This doesn't hurt!"
"Leave my hair alone, mum!" George protested frantically, swatting her wand hand away as she tried to aim closer. He hopped to the side as his father ran past. "She's not about to run away from the family screaming if one of us has messy hair."
“Now, George! I just want you to look your best!” Molly grabbed him by the ear, holding him still, ignoring his yells. “Now, hold still and stop being a baby!”
"If anything, having a loony mother chasing her around the room and jabbing a wand at her head'll make her run screaming," Ron agreed with his brother, his voice glum.
He had already been at the receiving end of the wand, his hair looking like a solid block of plastic hair. He wasn't amused.
Ginny, though, was staying strangely silent, standing next to Harry out of the way of the madness going on in the middle of the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back in a braid and her face looked strained and nervous.
"How are you feeling there, baby sister?" Charlie gave her a gentle nudge. He was the only one who had been able to avoid their mother’s wrath, by means his brothers didn’t comprehend. He was as messy as ever, a couple of shiny burns on his face and his hair a singed mass of blackened frizz above his face.
"Do we have to go?" In a brief silence as Molly muted George, Ginny's shaking words reached every member of her family. "I mean, what if she doesn't like us? What if she thinks we're all weird and doesn't want to even know us after everything?"
"Impossible," Harry stated firmly. "She's going to love you."
Fleur nodded. "Not many Wizarding families are disliking this family," she agreed emphatically with a fond look at her flame-haired husband. He winked at her with a devilish grin. "She will be nervous, as you are."
"Do-do you think so?" Ginny asked, a little colour returning to her pale face.
"Of course," Harry hugged her with a broad smile. "And even if she's terrified of all the brothers, there's no way she couldn't like you." He nudged his nose playfully against hers. "If I married you, there has to be something likeable, eh?"
"Cocky git," this was said with a smile and she claimed a quick kiss from her husband. Ron made vomiting noises in the background and immediately received a rude gesture from his sister.
Harry, though, gave her a mock-shocked look. "Me? Cocky?" A broad grin spread across his face, green eyes dancing. "I have no idea where you get that idea... unless you've been comparing notes with Old Snape."
"Oh, of course, you're just so modest, Mister I'm-The-Youngest-Player-The-England-Quidditch-Team-Have-Ever-Had," Ron snickered, dodging another blast from his mother's wand, when she realised he had managed to uncurse the fluffy tufts of hair that seemed to have a mind of their own.
Ginny looked hopelessly at the chuckling Fleur. "And they wonder why I'm worried about Willow meeting us," she said, shaking her head.
***
Dumbledore was comfortably settled in the tower-top room that he had as an office, behind the wide desk, reading through the grades of the students, when he heard a repetitive tap-tap-tap on the window.
With a gesture of his wand, the window opened and a large tawny owl soared in, landing neatly on the desk and dropping an envelope on the surface for him.
One of Dumbledore’s long-fingered hands came out and picked up the letter, turning it over. A fairly fresh seal was pressed into the wax on the back: an image of one of those muggle aeroplanes.
Despite the smile that spread on his lips, already more than aware of who the letter was from and what it was about, the wizard tore open the envelope and pulled out the crisp sheet of parchment.
It was very useful, he mused as he spread the sheet on the desk in front of him, to have friends and associates who worked in various sectors of the muggle-world to keep a look out for him.
This letter was from one of those very associates, who worked at the place known as Heathrow Airport, a muggle transport facility, just on the outskirts of London.
The writer of the letter, a young muggle-born by the name of Hector Rogers, had been placed on alert to watch for the impending arrival of Rupert Giles and his merry, madcap little band from the United States of America.
Apparently, Giles had been sighted at the airport.
And he certainly wasn’t alone, judging by Hector’s eager scrawl.
Professor Dumbledore couldn’t quell a small smile, as he read through the more than slightly excited description of the ‘three pretty young ladies’ whom Mr. Giles had brought with him.
Hector had reacted exactly as any other twenty-year-old would at the sight of Summers, Emerson and Weasley.
While he - Dumbledore - really didn’t pay attention such things as pretty young women, he chuckled at that thought, even a blind man would notice the three striking young women, each of them so very different.
Hector, despite not being blessed with a great abundance of power, had a wonderful sense of intuition about people and he had done more than simply ogle the triad of females accompanying Giles.
His assessments of each of them were spot on.
Miss Summers was the natural leader of the little group: strong-willed, determined, impetuous and incredibly brave. Dumbledore was rather looking forward to having her meet Harry on a one-to-one basis.
They were so very similar after all.
Miss Weasley seemed to puzzle Hector. He could tell she had some power, but he also seemed to have the odd feeling that she was a muggle, which made perfect sense considering her upbringing.
However, once she had a chance to learn about...
“Ah, Albus,” he murmured. “You’re getting ahead of yourself again.”
His attention went to the study of Miss Emerson, a smile lifting his lips.
Yes, this was a fascinating young, yet ancient woman.
Ever since he had met her in Sunnydale, the Head master of Hogwarts had been hoping to see the former Vengeance demon again. While Hector simply stated that there was something ‘off’ about her, Dumbledore knew that she was a perfect example of at least two utterly different worlds colliding.
She had an innocence to her that was charming, spoke her mind about anything and everything with a bluntness that was seldom found in anyone but a child, although her comments were less than child-like.
She truly was an incredibly interesting young woman.
And now, she and her two female companions, along with a muggle, a watcher and a werewolf were safely ensconced on British soil, he would give them time to settle, before making his presence known.
***
"These cabs are so cute!" Sitting on one of the fold-down seats in the cab, Buffy had been exclaiming about everything they had seen around them, from buildings, to streets, to the policemen their cabby had almost mown down.
"They're nothing special, Buffy," Giles said patiently, although he appeared mildly amused by the delight on the Slayer’s face, as she took in everything that she was seeing around them.
Her small hands and the tip of her nose were pressed to the window, staring out on the streets, as they sped along the London streets, but she looked over her shoulder at her watcher with a grin.
“But with the seats...and the foldy seats...” She motioned eagerly to the seat she was perched down, which was one of the two that folded down from the partition behind the cab driver. “You don’t get things like this in America!”
“Like I said, Buffy, they are standard,” Giles smiled, looking out of the window, as the taxi-cab came to a halt. "Ah... here we are." He nodded out at a non-descript building, sitting between two large, bright buildings. If he hadn't pointed it out none of them would have noticed it. "That’s where we're going."
Anya wrinkled her nose. "It looks like a dump. It probably smells bad too," She reluctantly let Xander steer her out of the cab, looking up at the sign that hanging over the door.
It was grubby, very old with peeling paint and the picture of a cauldron with a leak in the base was barely visible through the grime, swinging back and forth in the light breeze, squeaking softly.
"Its much better inside," Giles reassured her, pushing a handful of money into the cabby's waiting hand, as they piled out, carrying bags and cases and one very carefully concealed cage containing a transfigured-witch-cum-rat. "Now, is everyone sure they have everything?"
"Looks like it," Oz noted, taking Willow's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"All right, then," Carrying two bags, he led the little group towards the dirty-looking door. "Ladies and Gentleman...and Xander," He received an indignant look from the dark-haired teen as he pushed the door open. "Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron."