Outside the courtroom they emerged into a long corridor, and she was escorted to a room three doors down on right. Upon entering, she found a small sitting room with an impressive log fireplace surrounded by comfortable looking leather armchairs. Wooden panelling on the walls added a decidedly Victorian feel to the room, as did the many candles which were the only source of light.

“If you just wait here, I’ll fetch someone to escort you.” The less kind of the two guards remained as the other quietly closed the door behind him. Openly leering at Buffy, he dared her to call him on it. Choosing to ignore him completely, she curled herself up in one of the chairs and stared into the flames.

After a short wait, the door was opened again by a young man who looked like he’d just got out of school. “I’ll take it form here, Greenwood”

“Are you sure Edgeware? She’s a slippery little thing” Greenwood sneered at the man, trying to intimidate him.

“I’m sure I can handle it” he replied stiffly. There was obviously no love lost between the pair, both stiffly avoiding any contact or familiarity with one another.

When Greenwood’s footsteps had finally become inaudible, the man sighed with relief and threw himself into one of the armchairs, looking even more boyish in the process. “Hi, I’m Neil. Neil Edgeware” he grinned expectantly at Buffy.

“Buffy” she murmured a reply. He looked at her for a moment, expecting more, but then jumped to his feet with a childish enthusiasm “Well, I’m supposed to be showing you around, so why don’t we go?” Buffy silently rose, the effects of the past few days added to the events of the previous months overwhelming her too much.

They made their way down the corridor and then down a flight of stairs, twisting and turning down through the building until they finally came out onto a massive landing with two stairways twisting down to the floor of an enormous hall. It was made of solid rock, a cave that had been refined to form a gigantic room. Pillars stood dotted randomly around where there had been natural formations of stalagmites and stalactites; the join between stonework and nature was impeccable where they had been extended to form complete columns. The floor was intricately inlaid with black and white marble in a pattern that drew the eye to the centre of the room, where there stood a sculpture of a stag. It was unbelievable that his impressive antlers could be supported by the elegantly shaped neck, especially considering the entire monument was made of ice. As they descended the stairs, Buffy realised that the stag stood at least ten foot tall.

“Beautiful isn’t he? This is the main entrance hall to the FBM headquarters.” His voice suddenly changed it’s tone to that of a historical guide as he talked about the room “The Bureau moved here, along with the Salem Witches' Institute when it became clear that the townsfolk wouldn’t accept us, The stag was carved in 1700 to commemorate the completion of the new home of American Wizardry and was charmed to stay frozen.” He smiled smugly at his rendition of the history.

“There’s a school here?”

He looked at her surprised, then gasped. “You haven’t been outside yet?” His eyes lit up at the idea of being the first to show her this world as she shook her head “You’re in for a treat.” He led her out of the imposing doors of the Bureau, to see the most amazing sight of her life.

If she had thought the cavernous entrance of the Bureau was large, her whole sense of scale was redefined by the sight before her eyes. They were standing on what was obviously a giant ledge in the mountains, big enough for a large city to nestle on with room to spare. They had come out of the heart of the mountain, and behind them sheer cliffs towered, pocketed occasionally with windows and balconies of the rooms hidden inside. In front of them, where there should have been view out, there was a wall of ice, completely concealing this world in its own personal eco-bubble. The midday sunlight filtered through the ice to light the magical world around her. As well as the rooms in the mountainside, there were streets of houses and shops along just in front of the Bureau, and far to the left, behind a dark forest which stretched the breadth of the shelf, separating it from the rest of the buildings, was a structure both carved into and built out of the rock of the mountain. It looked like a cross between castle Dracula and sleeping beauty’s palace, somehow keeping its beauty and elegance regardless of the black rock that had been used to create it.

Neil followed her gaze “That’s Salem. You’ll be going there in September?” Buffy nodded, still speechless at the beauty of the view before her. He watched her for a moment, enjoying the effect that his home had on first time visitors, then in a start remembered that he had a job to do and started dragging her off down the steep hill that lead down from the Bureau towards the shops. “Well first things first; you’ll need money.” He lead her off down the street past more people wearing the odd robes that seemed to be the norm in this society, and shops selling caldrons and spell books, talking along the way about the wizarding world.

“You have American Dollars right?” Buffy nodded again, glad that Neil hadn’t tried to force her into a more two sided conversation. “We’ll have to go to Gringotts. The American Banks are all run by old wizarding families and don’t exchange muggle currency.” Buffy shrugged, not bothering to try and understand the relevance what the man was telling her. She was too overwhelmed from just being in this enchanting place.

They made their way up to a small, but impressive doorway guarded by a small figure dressed in a red and gold uniform. Buffy stared at the strange creature; it looked back haughtily muttering “mudblood” under it’s breath in a tone that was obviously insulting. Her guide didn’t notice this however and murmured an explanation to her as they passed through the brass doorway.

“Goblins… they run the bank.”

A second set of doors, this time guarded by a pair of identically clad goblins opened onto a long room which seemed to be made entirely of marble. Along one side was a counter, stretching the entire length of the room, behind which sat half a dozen goblins, all engrossed in the continuous running of the bank. The other wall had three intricately carved fireplaces, each containing a blazing fire. The central Fireplace was larger than the others, standing as high as any doorway and at least twice as wide, with a word in golden lettering along the mantle. As Buffy attempted to make out what was written, the fire suddenly roared to life, its flames changing to a brilliant green, and a shadow of a figure appeared, gradually solidifying until a man stepped out of the flames with a soft woosh.

“International Floo Network” He explained as he followed her gaze, then his eyes widened in recognition and he rushed to greet the man that had just arrived.

“What services will you require?” Buffy’s attention was drawn away from the fires by the politely enquiring face of a Gringotts goblin.

“Oh…” Buffy glanced across the hall to the pair of men now animatedly discussing… some kind of sport. It seemed likely; them being male and all. “He said I needed to exchange some money…” The goblin continued to look up at her with an impassive expression. She dug into her pockets and pulled out the remainders of her cash.

“Ah, you wish to exchange muggle currency. You wouldn’t prefer to get money on credit from your vault?”

“Vault?” she heard the voice of her escort echo the word with her.

The goblin looked at them both in confusion “On the chain around your neck, is that not the key to your vault?” Neil looked incredulously at the goblin, then examined the key. Buffy lifted the chain over her head in a daze and handed it to the goblin. “Ahh, yes. This is definitely one of ours. And you’re name?”

“Buffy Summers.” The goblin frowned and looked at the key more intently.

“Hmmm…” he muttered thoughtfully to himself, then turned to Buffy “I’ll have to check our records. Would you come over to the counter?”

The goblin lifted a partition to go to the other side of the desk and busied himself, taking out a quill and starting to make notes on a complicated looking form. Without looking up he started barking questions at Buffy who, stunned, replied to his questioning.

“Parents Names?”

“Joyce and Hank Summers”

“Date of Birth?”

“January 19th 1978”

“Place of Birth?”

“Err… London”

“Which State?”

“No… London, England”