1. A Different Sort

**Chapter One – A Different Sort**

Disclaimer: I don't own characters from Buffy or Harry Potter. Nor do I claim to. I'd be living rather modestly for as much money as I'd be making if I did. Franks & Beans and String Cheese are not the standard of a man as rich as I'd be. They're fun to play with, though. The characters, not the food. *dramatic pause* FOOD FIGHT!

Spoilers: Harry Potter through the end of Deathly Hallows, but the epilogue is officially ignored; Buffy spoilers are pretty much all across the entire series.

Feedback: Yes, please. Anything you can tell me will be appreciated, even if I'm too introverted to always respond.

Author's Note: Here's the beginning of Book Two of Xander Harris and the Wizarding World. It starts shortly after the events of Accidentally Magical, before jumping around a bit to showcase the highlights of Xander's education. Unlike Accidentally Magical, the majority of this has yet to be written. That means it will be a little bit longer between parts.

Author's Note 2: I'm considering looking for a beta for the story, to help polish it off as well as maybe toss me ideas that I might not have considered before. If someone is interested, feel free to message me. Man, I hope that's not a can of worms I'm opening.

–

Xander sat awkwardly on a stool, obviously designed for children almost ten years younger than himself, at the front of the Great Hall. Headmistress McGonagall stood by his side as he faced the head table. Assembled there were a handful of professors as well as Hermione, Harry, and Ginny. He felt very uncomfortable sitting before all these people, especially knowing he was the center of their attention.

Hermione gave him a reassuring smile, before leaning over to Ginny and whispering something in her ear. Ginny started laughing and had to be steadied in her chair by Harry. They all looked at him and showed him a thumbs up.

He scanned the head table and observed his soon-to-be professors. The four of them were each a head of house and were there to provide orientation to Xander after he was sorted. Professor Sprout still held the position of Head of Hufflepuff and looked at him kindly as he caught her eye. Being a Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad, he imagined. He like to believe himself loyal and hardworking, so it would be just fine in his opinion to join that house.

Professor Flitwick, perched upon a stack of books as always, was observing him shrewdly, as if trying to judge his magical aptitude from a distance. He was sure that Hermione would have kittens if he were sorted into Ravenclaw, in a good way, but he just didn't see being placed into a house full of brilliant thinkers. His high school transcript, or at least the charred remains, would attest to his lack of scholastic achievement.

The Head of Slytherin Professor Slughorn, who resembled a walrus, was browsing a copy of the Daily Prophet, probably looking for any famous names he recognized as students. Xander was hoping against hope that the Sorting Hat wouldn't see fit to place him in the same house that helped nurture an evil wizard like Voldemort. Hermione would have a completely different litter of creatures if that happened, and he was deathly afraid of what it would do to their relationship.

Finally, representing the house of Gryffindor, Professor Hestia Jones was sizing him up in an entirely dissimilar manner than Prof. Flitwick. If he wasn't mistaken, she looked like she was strategizing how best to take him down in a fight. Harry had told him about the woman, how she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and helped fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The house his new friends had shared stood for bravery and determination. Was he really all that brave? An argument could be made that he was not so much a fearless warrior but more an idiot who didn't know when he was in over his head.

Someone clearing their throat brought his attention back to the headmistress standing to his side. She held the Sorting Hat in one hand and her wand in the other. When she saw that Xander had returned his focus to the matter at hand, she tapped her wand to the hat and it jumped a little bit. A pair of worn flaps along it's side popped open to appear as eyes. They blinked a time or two, before another flap near the brim sprang wide open an a yawning gesture.

The hat looked around at the collected people and grumbled before commenting, "I don't typically get to see _this_ side of the hall..." This earned a few chuckles, "What's the occasion? I'm fairly sure we've already performed a sorting ceremony for the year."

The headmistress addressed the hat with an exasperated tone, "We've a transferring student who needs to be sorted before the term resumes."

The hat raised an eye flap and grumbled, "You aren't expecting another song _now_, are you? Because a little more notice would have been nice... takes a bloody long time to make it all rhyme." With this the hat twisted itself in her grip to look at the young man sitting on the stool rather uncomfortably, "Bit old to be transferring, isn't he?"

The headmistress glared, "There are special circumstances. Now please, we'd like to get on with this." Her glare was returned before the hat nodded in her grip. McGonagall lifted it up over Xander's head and released it.

Xander felt a tingle as the brim of the hat rested just above his brow. The room around him fell dead silent and his eyes widened. When the voice spoke, almost as if in his head, he fell back off the stool. The landing was hard, but he wasn't seriously hurt, and the hat remained firmly on his head. He quickly gestured to the others that he was okay, preventing them from continuing their rush to his side.

"Bit jumpy, aren't we?" The hat taunted. In response he jerked again but didn't move from his spot on the floor. The hat chuckled, "Never done a sorting from the floor before, rather unique distinction you're receiving here, boy." Xander wasn't sure if he was supposed to reply out loud or if he had to try and mentally talk back. "You can just speak out loud, bit of a silencing spell goes up whenever I'm on someone's head. Helps keep the little discussions I have with students private."

"Discussions? W-what kind of discussions?" He stuttered.

The hat rolled it's eye flaps, "Mostly students begging me not to be sorted into Slytherin. The house may have earned a bad reputation from a number of its members, but some of the most influential people in this world made their way through it. So, how about you? Any protestations about being sorted into Slytherin?"

Xander's eyes bulged, "I... is that what I'm bound for? Is that the house you're picking for me?" He sounded sad, "I never really thought myself that type of person."

The hat clucked it's non-existent tongue at him, "No? Then I suppose you don't remember _forcing_ a certain member of the undead community into participating on a particular_ rescue_ mission? Or omitting a particularly _important_ piece of information from a dear friend as she was going into battle with that same vampire? And let us not forget your little gamble in the basement of your high school that you neglected to mention to _anyone_. You see, boy, Slytherin isn't just about evil and darkness... it's about weighing risk and reward and using them to further your own ambitions."

Xander sat agape, not sure how to digest the hat's assessment of his actions. His mouth opened and closed several times, and beyond the fog he could see concern growing on Hermione's face.

He was broken from his reverie as the hat plowed on, "You're right, though. You really aren't that type of person. You're more than willing to bend any rule, sacrifice any luxury, all in pursuit of your goal. What sets you apart _is_ that goal. You do not seek personal gain, not fame nor fortune... no, your manipulations are based out of a desire for those around you to be well. That is far more noble a goal than the average Slytherin, and makes it a little difficult to place you there without reservations. Mind you, if you would like to pursue that avenue of your character, I will do it."

Xander didn't hesitate, "No thanks, I'm not keen on becoming anymore like that than I have to." He looked Hermione in the eyes and smiled to show her things were really okay. She hesitantly smiled back at him.

The hat nodded, "Very well, that leaves three other houses where I could place you." He thought on it, "I know you don't think yourself smart enough to be called a Ravenclaw, boy, but there's a cunning and ingenuity in that brain of yours that you gravely underestimate. I could cite several more instances where it has shown itself, against the creature known as The Judge as well as your coordination at your graduation ceremony. However, much like your Slytherin qualities, what would make you a good Ravenclaw is not one of your more dominant characteristics. I believe your talents would be better suited elsewhere." Xander processed this information and mutely agreed.

The hat mulled over his next response, "That would leave us with the houses of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. _This_ is where it gets tricky. You would do equally well in each house. You are undeniably loyal and when pressed you work hard at your task. You value friendship and honesty above almost everything else," The hat paused to draw in a breath it did not really need, "You are also an unabashedly brave and determined individual. And yes, it is most definitely bravery not stupidity that drives you. You never hesitate to leap into the fray in order to protect those you _love_. Merlin help anyone who tries to get between you and Miss Granger."

"I-I love her." Xander uttered in disbelief, the revelation crashing into him like brick wall. How had things come so far, so fast?

The hat laughed heartily, so much so that it escaped the silencing charm for the rest to hear. They were unnerved to say the least, and the hat continued, "So, then, young man... it comes down to a choice. Would you rather be a loyal and hardworking as a Hufflepuff, or a courageous and resolute as a Gryffindor?"

Xander thought on this a moment, taking in all of his friends, most especially Hermione. His decision was made the moment their eyes met, "I think I can be both, if it's all the same to you, but I'd like to be a Gryffindor."

The had nodded, and Xander briefly felt a sense of satisfaction floating over him, before being startled again as the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!" This sent his friends, save for Luna who just looked as eternally serene as she always did, jumping from their seats in celebration.

"YES!" Hermione shouted before she came barreling around the head table to tackle him just as he was getting back to his feet. She rained kisses down around his face and looked positively glowing knowing he was sorted into the same house she had been. Xander managed to get her to let up and leveraged himself against her to pull them both to their feet.

He made a show of removing the hat from his head and offered it back to the headmistress, who took it with the faintest gleam in her eye. Hermione would later tell him it was most likely pride at gaining another strong member to her former house. He wouldn't have been able to separate himself from Hermione for the rest of the day even if he'd wanted to. She'd grasped his hand firmly and refused to let go, which was just fine with him. It helped him hold off the shakes he was certain would overtake him following the interesting conversation he'd had with the hat.

All throughout Professor Jones' orientation Hermione kept squeezing his hand and beaming at him with pride. He got to take a look through the Gryffindor common room, even if he wouldn't be staying there it was nice to see what it looked like. After that they were shown to the private quarters that Xander would be staying in while attending the school.

Xander was awed by the accommodations, and Hermione was quite impressed as well. He had his own modest common room, with a fireplace and several shelves of books. Hermione browsed them quickly while Xander admired the worn but cozy looking sofa that sat before the fireplace.

He then took a look into what would be his bedroom and idly noted the bed would easily be a comfortable fit for two people. The devilish grin he gave Hermione left her blushing. Luckily Professor Jones had been looking the other way, speaking to a house elf that had appeared to alter the maintenance schedule for the room.

Xander took them all by surprise as he marched over to the elf and squatted down to get closer, "Hey there, uh, I'm Xander. What's your name?"

The elf looked alarmed as it stuttered, "B-Bippy, sir."

Xander then offered his hand to shake, "Bippy? Alright, nice to meet you." When the elf just stared at his hand in disbelief, he gently took the elf's hand and connected it with his own before shaking, "Don't be afraid, I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you I appreciate the work you do around here."

The elf looked somewhere between terrified and flattered, "Th-thank you, sir." The elf then popped out of the room with a squeak. Hermione grabbed his hand again and nearly broke it with the appreciative squeeze she gave it. She looked absolutely radiant and immediately produced another 'rain check' for a thorough snogging.

She did look a little sheepish as she added, "You might want to be careful about being _too_ nice to the house elves... they're going to know you're dating me, and some of them are still resentful of the... passion I exhibited while I was here at Hogwarts. I went a little overboard, and they might interpret your actions similarly." She looked at him seriously, "Be gentle."

He just smirked, "My little zealot ruffled a few feather dusters, huh? Alright, I'll make sure to be nice to them but I won't go throwing them birthday parties. At least, not until they know I'm not psycho." This earned him a slap on the arm but an equally amused smirk.


	2. Weeds

**Chapter Two – Weeds**

Disclaimer: I don't own characters from Buffy or Harry Potter. Nor do I claim to. I'd be living rather modestly for as much money as I'd be making if I did. Franks & Beans and String Cheese are not the standard of a man as rich as I'd be. They're fun to play with, though. The characters, not the food. *dramatic pause* FOOD FIGHT!

Spoilers: Harry Potter through the end of Deathly Hallows, but the epilogue is officially ignored; Buffy spoilers are pretty much all across the entire series.

Feedback: Yes, please. Anything you can tell me will be appreciated, even if I'm too introverted to always respond.

Beta Note: I'm considering looking for a beta for the story, to help polish it off as well as maybe toss me ideas that I might not have considered before. If someone is interested, feel free to message me. Man, I hope that's not a can of worms I'm opening.

Author's Note: Took a little longer to get this chapter posted due to a number of issues. Turns out a power supply is vitally important to the operation of a computer, and if it stops working... well, then I do, too. Add to that the near full-time schedule I'm running at my actual job. Anyway, here's the next chapter, introducing Xander to one of his new classes. Part of the delay in this chapter was my debate over what order he should attend them. Might still get moved around in the future, we'll see.

--

Plants shouldn't wiggle. That was definitely in the Xander Harris Rulebook Of Very Important Things The World Does And Doesn't Do. Under no circumstances should a plant be wiggling, especially not if said wiggling resembled an escape attempt.

Professor Sprout was looking down the table at him, noting his reaction to the potted plant with a degree of amusement that told him she'd seen this numerous times before and still found it funny. He eyed the garden trowel to his left, preparing to grab it up as a weapon should the need arise.

He also tried to keep an eye on the fuzzy earmuffs as well. For all he knew they'd start hopping around soon, too.

"Mr. Harris, could you please tell me what plant we are dealing with today?" Prof. Sprout asked.

Xander couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off the plant as he answered, "If my sources are correct, and she always is, this here is a Mandrake. I'm gonna go on record and say I don't like them."

Sprout chuckled, "If I were you, Mr. Harris, I might reserve judgment. That particular creature is responsible for rescuing Ms. Granger from a very dangerous case of paralysis." This sobered Xander up, remembering just what Hermione had told him about that particular event.

"Alright, I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt," He responded. At the Professor's expectant look, he got back on subject, "They're known for their piercing cry... which can paralyze or kill a person, depending on whether they're all grown up or not. And they provide a really important ingredient in a remedy to the very thing they can be the cause of."

Sprout smiled, "Very good, five points to Gryffindor. All right, on to the next portion of the lesson. If you'll put on the earmuffs I've provided, we'll begin the process of moving your mandrake from that pot to a roomier one." She put on her own ear protection.

Xander picked up the earmuffs, "Sure thing, but these better not bite."

Professor Sprout rolled her eyes, "I can assure you, nothing of the..." The remainder of her sentence was cut off as he slipped the fuzzy headgear on. The professor's lips continued to move, but no sound reached his ears.

She began demonstrating the proper technique for repotting a baby mandrake, explaining it at she went along. She stopped what she was doing and addressed him, apparently expecting a response.

He gestured towards his ears and reached up to pull the earmuffs off. He felt a sting on one of his hands that stopped his progress instantly. Sprout was looking at him in displeasure as she marched over and tapped her wand to his headgear, "...swear, one moment you're listening intently, the next you're doing your best impression of a piece of driftwood."

He just looked up at her, rubbing at his stung hand, "Uh, sorry?"

The professor continued to look at down at him, "If you'd succeeded in removing your earmuffs, do you realize what would have happened?"

Xander processed what had just happened and blinked, "I'd probably have fallen over when I passed out, right? Wouldn't be the first time."

Sprout wasn't amused by his joke, "Mr. Harris, you show potential as a wizard, but you must learn that there is a time for humor, and a time for seriousness. The classroom is a place to be serious. The plants you will be handling at Hogwarts can cause grievous harm. You would do well to remember that."

Xander made an effort to bite back his retort about knowing all about the time to be serious. He also didn't comment on such dangerous creatures and plants residing at a school. He simply nodded and replied, "Yes, Professor."

Sprout nodded and returned to her position at the end of the table, "Very well, I will begin my instruction again."

Xander chided himself for his behavior. He had to remember the teachers at this school weren't like the ones he was accustomed to back in Sunnydale. They weren't all trolls like Snyder, and actually cared about the well-being of their students. Snide remarks weren't par for the course here, they were a disruption. He turned his attention back to the lesson, which the professor had kindly restarted for him, and began following along.

Things were going well until he yanked the Mandrake out of its planter. He made the mistake of taking a moment to observe the wailing creature before he was supposed to thrust it into it's new home. The plant made a face at him, before chucking a clod of dirt right at his eyes.

He recoiled on reflex, and the Mandrake dropped unceremoniously onto the table. It wasted no time in making a break for it. It hopped down off the table and started running away from both Xander and the Professor. Xander didn't hesitate in pursuing the little monster, diving after it and missing by mere inches.

Professor Sprout began to gesture with her wand but Xander ran into her line of fire shouting, "I've got it!" He chased the dirt-covered little plant around the table, ducking back and forth around the stools.

It almost made it out of the greenhouse when Xander managed to snag it by its 'hair,' causing the little creature to cry out even louder. Xander marched back to his seat, not even sparing the Mandrake another look. He plopped down on his stool, dragged over the replacement pot, and shoved the baby plant inside.

He heaped on the soil, burying the little ankle biter and silencing it. He patted down the dirt to make sure the monster couldn't get back out, punctuating the process with a series of frustrated hits. He looked up to see Professor Sprout just staring at him, "Uh, I think I'm done."

The professor inspected his work and nodded, "It is... acceptable."

As she walked back to her teaching position, Xander leaned into the pot and muttered, "You're lucky I didn't slay you."

As he walked back to his quarters, he wondered just how big of a mess that class had been. He tried to concentrate on the positive. He hadn't lost his house any points. He'd been told that the House Cup as a very competitive and divisive subject, and could win you friends or enemies with very little effort.

He was already an outsider here at the school, he didn't need anyone actively against him. Although that really wouldn't be any different than going to school in Sunnydale.

A rather snotty voice interrupted his pondering, "What's wrong, mudblood? It's not enough to have dirty blood, you've got to wear it on the outside, as well?"

Xander looked up to see Archimedes Albright of the Ravenclaw house and his flock of like-minded Slytherins, who found the comment hilarious. Xander looked down to see he was covered in dirt and mud from his little escapade with the maniacal mandrake. He just rolled his eyes, "Come on, Archie, is that really the best you can do?"

Archimedes blanched at the undesirable nickname Xander insisted on calling him by, "I've told you, Harris, you'll address me by my full name or you'll regret it."

Xander tried not to laugh, instead schooling his features into boredom, "You're not nearly as threatening as you think you are, Arch. I come from Sunnydale High School. I've been enduring Cordelia Chase caliber barbs and insults from pretty much the moment I could walk. Your bigotry doesn't even mark a .01 on the Chase Burn-O-Meter."

"How _dare_ you compare me to some lowly muggle wench!" Archimedes bellowed. He stepped up into Xander's face and jabbed him in the shoulder with a pointed finger, "I deserve more respect than you'll ever understand!"

He never really saw what hit him when Xander grabbed the offending appendage and used it to flip the student over his shoulder and to the stone floor with a thud. Xander knelt down and growled, "You can insult me all you like, Archimedes, but you don't lay into my friends. You also need to know that respect isn't given, it's earned." He then stomped off towards his quarters to get washed up.

Archimedes remained there on the floor, aching from the fall, his hair not quite long enough to cover the indignant flush that covered his face. He swore he was going to find a way to get even with the muggleborn, if it was the last thing he did.

Xander groaned as he laid out on his bed after his shower. He had come to realize his little outburst would probably be the talk of the school by the time dinner rolled around. Archie would undoubtedly have gone to his head of house, Professor Flitwick, as soon as he'd picked himself up off the floor and demanded punishment be handed out.

He'd probably lost Gryffindor house points because he'd reacted to the idiot's barbs. That was going to make sitting at the house table for dinner a potentially hostile experience. The only thing the students at the school valued more than Quidditch was the House Cup, so his actions would not win him any favors with a large number of them. Of course, a few would admire his gall at assaulting one of the school's noisiest bigots, but that was of little consolation.

The 'doorbell' to his quarters sounded, prompting him to climb up out of his mope in order to answer it. The bricks spun around to form the entryway and revealed his caller to be Neville. Xander quietly stepped backwards, his years on the Hellmouth teaching him better than to utter an invitation to any visitor.

"Hey, Neville," Xander said as his guest walked by him towards a dinner table that now sat in his common room, "Thanks for coming up here, I'm not sure the Great Hall is the best place for me to eat after what happened today."

Neville smiled, "No problem, Xander... I'm well aware of how bad it can get down there when House points are lost." He looked over the spread laying on the table, noting it had a small sampling of the usual Hogwarts meals, as well as a few American-style dishes, "It looks like you've had the ear of the elves in determining the menu."

Xander smirked at him, "I'm an American boy... Going without a hamburger and fries would be like going without air. I can do it, but eventually it's going to kill me." He punctuated his statement by scooping up a few of the items and scarfing them down.

Neville sat down and dished up his own meal, content to eat in silence until either of them felt it necessary to comment. After a few minutes, Neville's curiosity got the better of him, "Xander... What made you react to Archimedes like you did?"

Xander stopped in mid-chew and looked at Neville out of the corner of his eye. He tried to think about his answer as he swallowed, "Well, the simple answer is that he insulted one of my friends... that's not something I'll ever just sit back and take."

Neville could understand the sentiment, "The complicated answer?"

Xander sighed, "Cordelia and I have had a really... not-so-pretty history. Pretty much from day one she looked down on me and Willow because of the simple fact that we didn't have as much money as she did. In a lot of ways, she was like the bigoted purebloods that seem to be everywhere around here. Once we all got pulled into the whole slaying gig, though... well, we changed."

"How so?" Neville asked.

"It was different for each of us. Willow started getting more confident in herself, I started doing my best impersonation of a punching bag so Buffy might have an extra second to slay the bad things... Cordelia, though, started being more... normal.

"Sure, she still made fun of us, but she started stepping up and helping despite the fact that all of her groupies thought we were some sort of blight upon the earth," He sighed, "It was one of the things that attracted me to her. She was hot, no doubt, but the slaying seemed to start bringing out a side of her that no one really got to see... not in public.

He munched another fry, "Even after things ended horribly between us, I could still see that she hadn't just reverted to the way she was before. She'd seen the dark things in the night and she didn't just flip the blinders back on. I don't know what she's up to right now exactly, but she's going to have her eyes open and she might just decide to help someone who needs it."

Neville nodded, "So when Archimedes insulted her..."

Xander nodded right back, "Cordy deserves better than that... everybody does. I might have a sharp tongue sometimes, but I like to think I'm using it for the side of good. Not just for the sake of making someone else feel worse about themselves. So, me and Archie? Probably never going to be the best of friends. Think you could help me brush up on my shield charm? I have a feeling I'll be needing to dodge hexes a lot while I'm here... from Archie's cronies and my own housemates."

Neville chuckled and dug back into his food, silence reigning again.


	3. School Hared

Chapter Three – School Hared

Disclaimer: I don't own characters from Buffy or Harry Potter. Nor do I claim to. I'd be living rather modestly for as much money as I'd be making if I did. Franks & Beans and String Cheese are not the standard of a man as rich as I'd be. They're fun to play with, though. The characters, not the food. *dramatic pause* FOOD FIGHT!

Spoilers: Harry Potter through the end of Deathly Hallows, but the epilogue is officially ignored; Buffy spoilers are pretty much all across the entire series.

Feedback: Yes, please. Anything you can tell me will be appreciated, even if I'm too introverted to always respond.

Author's Note 1: This part didn't take as long to post, probably because most of it was written up beforehand. Thanks go out to TAO on tthfanfic, who helped inspire a lot of this chapter during a conversation we had that was mostly just throwing crazy stuff at a wall. This is what stuck, for me at least. It also features a bit of a nod to fanfiction authors everywhere, who should be quite familiar with a featured aspect of this chapter. By the way, it rhymes with lemmings. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be butchering an accent here, so I beg forgiveness.

Author's Note 2: This note is actually about the previous chapter. A review I received on , from a certain Queen, jogged my memory about how the latter part of Season 3 actually took place. So it puts Xander's explanation at the end of the last chapter kind of out of canon. I'm debating rewriting it, but for now I'm going to leave it alone, cause I like it. I just wanted to let the Queen know that I did read the review and will certainly take the points under advisement.

–

Xander leaned against one of the giant rain barrels outside the shack which housed the gentle giant Hagrid. He was waiting, only semi-patiently because of the cold, for the large man to exit the hut and begin his Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

He wasn't sure what he would be dealing with, though a warning from Hermione told him he needed to be aware of his surroundings at all times and to pay attention to the instructions the professor gave. It very well could save his life.

The door to the hut swung open and Hagrid ambled out, in as jovial a mood as ever. He had a grin on his face that unsettled Xander deep down, "Mornin', Mr. Harris." Xander chuckled at the silent H the giant of a man's accent produced.

He addressed the man with the respect Hermione encouraged him to, "Morning, Professor."

Hagrid continued smiling, taking in a lungful of air before continuing, "Grand morning, innit?"

Xander was shivering. He had on several layers of clothing just to keep himself near an acceptable temperature. How did these people live in conditions like this? Sure, he was raised in sunny California, but the frigid climate of Scotland in winter was just ridiculous. He managed to reply, "For polar bears, yeah."

A bark of laughter from his instructor wasn't quite as pleasing of a reward as a nice cup of hot chocolate, but it was probably all he was going to get. Hagrid addressed him, "I'm supposin' yur a bit curious as ter what I'll be havin' you do today, eh?"

Xander looked at the man dubiously, "Let me guess... dragon wrangling?"

Hagrid didn't even bat an eye at the suggestion, "Nah, that's a wee bit advanced for yeh..." Xander paled at the realization that facing a dragon might _actually_ be in his future, "No, seein' as yer a beginner and all, I figured I'd start you off with something a little less... finicky."

"You consider a dragon _finicky_?" Xander asked in disbelief.

Hagrid seemed to be taking his response entirely out of context, "Well, only when yer doin' somethin' to get on their nerves... which, admittedly, is a pretty hefty list, but if you can avoid doin' any of 'em, they're right pleasant."

Xander found himself beginning to long for the days when he'd been dealing with vampires and the occasional world-ending demon. Why had he hopped onto this whole magical bandwagon again? Oh yeah, it was kind of an accident. Oh well, at least he got the girl, "Okay, Professor... what am I dealing with today, then?"

Hagrid smiled again, "Yer definitely in fer a treat today." He motioned for Xander to follow him behind the house. Xander hesitantly followed, subconsciously reaching inside his robes to grab onto a stake he kept on him, just in case.

As they rounded the shack, he saw an enclosure set up in the snow. Playing around in the snow were a bunch of little creatures that resembled rabbits. In the far corner of the pen, what looked like a congregation of the creatures were huddled together, and Xander could swear he heard them mumbling to each other.

Upon the approach of the two outsiders, the group scattered in every direction. Xander raised an eyebrow and looked to his teacher for an explanation.

Hagrid began his lesson, "These here are commonly known as Schemmings. Fer the most part they're completely harmless. By themselves they could hardly hurt a fly." He eyed the creatures with slight contempt, though, "Canna go leavin them ter themselves fer too long, though... they're always up ter somethin. Probably why, in less polite circles, they're also referred to as Plot Bunnies."

Xander fought not to laugh, "Plot bunnies?"

Hagrid could see the boy's amusement and sought to curtail it, "Go ahead an' laugh, boy. They might be harmless on their own, but when they get together... Merlin knows what they can get up ter." He began relating a story about their antics, "They got loose one time and tried to storm the Three Broomsticks... I don't quite think we'll ever get the sound of their singing outta our 'eads. Kept going on and on about 'oops, they'd done it again.'

"If I never hear that phrase again, it'll be too soon. No firewhiskey fer them if'n I can 'elp it, bless the fact that batch 'as been shipped off to the States anyway." He looked at the pen again to see a group of schemmings had crowded together again and were obviously discussing something. Hagrid reached down quickly and tossed a pebble at the meeting which quickly dispersed, "Yeh better quit that right this instant! I'll be 'aving none of your shenanigans today!"

Xander just watched the exchange, "This is insane."

"Alright, Mr. Harris, your task today is to study the habits of the schemmings... what they like to eat, what they avoid, what they do with their free time... I expect a report on them by the start of your next lesson." He leaned down and added, "And if'n you can get a whiff of what they're planning besides escape, I'll give you extra credit. Buggers have figured out I'm not a person who should hear their schemes."

Xander reached into his bag and pulled out a roll of parchment and quill, hoping his ink hadn't frozen in the cold, "Right. Commune with the conspiracy coneys.. there's no part of that statement that wouldn't make me sound like a loon in regular society."

"Plot bunnies, Mr. Harris." Hagrid corrected.

Xander smirked, "I thought that was only in impolite conversation, Professor."

Hagrid looked at him with some sort of combination of a smirk and a glare, "Yeh best be getting ter your classwork, the schemmings are probably already scheming an escape plan from the pen. Wouldn' want them succeeding now, would we?"

Xander just nodded mutely. He turned to the pen and saw Hagrid was right. A large number of schemmings were huddling together, and he swore he saw one of them gesturing towards the door to the corral. Great, now how was he going to get in the good graces of the plot bunnies to figure out just what the hell they were up to? Xander muttered, "Where's some firewhiskey when you needed it?"

Later on, Xander was looking in the mirror at the places where Madam Pomfrey had healed the scars on his face. He'd been stupidly close to getting the plot bunnies to open up to him about their overall scheme, the one beyond simply escaping the pen Hagrid had made to hold them.

All he'd ended up getting from them was repeated use of the word 'survivor,' something about 'television,' and the phrase 'filthy, stinking rich.'

Then things had gone horribly, horribly wrong. In a flash, he'd had a pack of angry schemmings all over him, clawing and scratching like a high school slap fight. He'd managed to stun one of the little monsters before Hagrid swept in and drove them back long enough for him to escape the pen. He swore the professor to secrecy on the event, as he would never live it down otherwise.

He'd been relieved to be sent to the infirmary to get his injuries healed, prepared to tell anyone who asked along the way that he'd wrestled a thestral. When that excuse fell through, he'd just say he'd cut himself shaving and leave it at that.

He was startled when the mirror in front of him sarcastically commented, "You do realize you're speaking out loud, don't you?"

He stared at the mirror for a moment, "You do realize you're a talking mirror, don't you?"

A brief silence preceded, "Touché."

The compact mirror in his pocket began vibrating, so he retrieved it's new shiny black casing and flipped it open, "Xander's House of Wax Figurines, how can I help you? We've just gotten an exquisite Marilyn Monroe that will bring goosebumps to your skin."

Hermione looked at him through the mirror with mild amusement, "Must you insist on answering your mirror with random nonsense every time I call, Xander?"

"Yep, it's a very strict rule written into the contract of ownership. You should really read those things before you sign them. The fine print can kill you." He smiled at her, "So, my lovely companion, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hermione blushed at his compliment, "I was just curious how your Care of Magical Creatures lesson with Hagrid went... I was hoping you might have escaped without injuring yourself too badly..."

He laughed, "Nothing life-threatening, you'll be relieved to hear. He had me observing some devious plot bunnies. Those things are nothing but trouble, I tell you!"

Hermione sounded intrigued, "Schemmings? You actually got to observe them? Did you find out what they were planning?"

He stared at her for a moment, "Unfortunately, they mutinied on me before the grand plan could be revealed. I'm not really a big fan of the little rodents, not after they scratched me up like I was in the way of their carrot supply."

Hermione corrected him, "Schemmings aren't actually rodents, Xander. They're from the order Lagomorpha, the family Leporidae, and the genus Schemalagus."

Xander smiled, "It's adorable that you know that. A little scary, but mostly adorable. Whatever the case, their master plan eluded me due to an improperly placed pronoun. How was I supposed to know the leader was a girl? I wasn't about to ask them to roll over and show my their bits. That's just impolite."

Hermione couldn't help laughing, "Well, I'm just glad Hagrid didn't have you handling anything more... dangerous." She turned a little more serious, "I have to admit that there is a bit more to why I called you..."

Xander raised an eyebrow, "An ulterior motive? I am both fearful and intrigued."

She rolled her eyes, "My parents want to have dinner with us again."

The color actually drained from Xander's face, "They do?" He couldn't help the squeak it came out sounding as.

"Xander..."

"Are you sure it's a good idea? Your mom seems to like me... but I'm pretty sure your dad wants to kill me. It's a first, usually it's the girl herself who wants me dead."

She glared at him mildly, "My father does not want to kill you." At his dubious look, she continued pointedly, "He'd just like to rough you up a bit for blurting out that we've been sleeping in the same bed since Christmas."

Xander became jokingly defensive, "Hey, how would I know he thought that meant we were having sex? What rational guy hears 'it's been rough at school because I can't share a bed with your daughter every night' and thinks 'I'm shagging your daughter rotten'?" He paused and listened to what he'd just said, "Oh. Okay, now I _know_ your dad wants to kill me."

"It will be okay, Xander. Mom even said it was dad who suggested with go out again," Hermione stated calmly.

"Did he even suggest the place? A nice, quiet, out of the way location... plenty of densely wooded land nearby? Did he ask you to pack any rope, shovels... perhaps even tell you to rent a backhoe?" He saw Hermione was starting to become honestly annoyed by his persistence, "Alright, Hermione, I'll go. I'll even try to keep my foot out of my mouth. I don't want your dad on my case anymore than you do."

She smiled, "Thank you. Daddy really isn't _that_ upset with you. If he really had it in for you, he'd have set up a dental appointment for you by now." The evilness of such an action sent a chill up his spine, but he didn't freak out, "They'll love you, Xander. Nearly as much as I do, hopefully."

He grinned in response, "Love you, too." He then moved on, "So, when is this dinner thing supposed to happen? I'd like an idea of where my last meal might be..."

He quietly appreciated the fact that Hermione was unable to swat him from his current location, until he felt a feathered fwap across the back of his head as Perdita flew by. She hooted at him disapprovingly once she landed landing back on her perch.

Like mother, like daughter, sometimes.


End file.
