Can I Come In?

1 Part One

It was a nasty winter, and rain pelted against the windows. Dudley was away at boarding school (so was that Harry Potter boy, but the Dursley's could care less about him), which left Vernon and Petunia alone in the house. Both were thoroughly unpleasant people, but that didn't mean that they missed their only child any less. Dudley's room was the same as he had left it, a total tip, filled with toys that the spoilt brat had broken. Petunia had tried to clean it one day, but there seemed so much to do, and the absence of Dudley struck her hard, and she had sat crying for over an hour. She spent most of her days trying to be strong when it hurt so much inside, and she couldn't talk to Vernon about it, especially if he'd been drinking again (she always wore clothes with long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms).

The television was on, quietly humming as the news droned out into the otherwise silent room. Vernon was reading a newspaper, ostensibly doing the Daily Mail's crossword (after he had spent half an hour telling Petunia how 'the faggots are trying to corrupt the children of England'). Petunia was half-heartedly knitting a jumper, although she still wasn't sure who to give it to. Not Harry, everything had gone wrong since he had arrived at number four Privet Drive. But she needed something to do, so she knitted.

The news was reminding viewers that Sirius Black, free for over a year, had been sighted recently in a sleepy little village called Hogsmeade (that no viewer had ever heard of, for very good reasons, although if Vernon had listened, he would have been reminded of a form Harry had asked him to sign a couple of years ago). In unrelated news, apparently a petty criminal had been found in the very town the Dursleys lived in, with his neck snapped like plywood. Petunia shivered.

Suddenly there was a hard knocking at the door.

'Will you get that woman?' growled Vernon. Petunia quickly stood and walked to the door, trying to remember the last time Vernon had spoken to her with affection.

'Who is it?' she called out through the thick door, trying to peer through the eye-hole. She could vaguely see a dark eyed young man, who appeared to have bleached his hair blond. Kids.

'Police, dear.' He said, in a voice that sounded rather forceful for a visiting police officer. 'Son by the name of Dudley, miss? We've got some bad news for you.'

Petunia was wracked with sobs, dreading the worst. She just about managed to gasp 'You better come in then' as she slid back the locks and opened the door. As she looked up, trying to blink away her tears, she asked 'what's wrong?' before she started crying. Then she looked properly.

The young man, who looked about mid twenties, was certainly not a police man. There was a prominent scar on his left eyebrow, he was wearing a knee length leather jacket, and large boots. Standing slightly behind him was a slightly spaced out looking woman, pretty though she was, with her hair tied back in a slightly archaic fashion, although not as archaic as the Victorian cloak and dress she wore.

The young man with bleached hair smiled smugly, like he was enjoying a really private joke. 'What's wrong, love? Your Dudley is about to become a bloody orphan.' Then his face distorted into something horrible and demonic, with blazing yellow eyes.

The woman next to him spoke in a slightly detached tone, with a slight cockney accent, 'My Spike is ever so naughty. He's not the police at all. He's a big bad wolf, and he's going to huff and puff and blow your house down!'

The woman giggled slightly, but Petunia didn't notice because Spike bit her neck, and drank eagerly of her blood. Then he let her drop, and her body made a soft thudding sound.

'Thanks for inviting us in.' he grinned, as he stepped over the heap.

Vernon was engrossed in his crossword, so Spike crept quietly behind his chair.

'Ten across is "mercy"' said Spike loudly. His ears picked up the sound of Drusilla dripping blood into Petunia's mouth. Excellent…this one was free game.

'You what?' said Vernon, spluttering as he span (or attempted to spin) in his chair. 'Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?'

'I'm Spike', he replied, as Drusilla glided into the room like a lazy shark, 'and you're Dru's dinner.'

***

Sometimes I really wonder why I still do this job. That was the thought running through Professor Snape's head. Expect high standards of people who don't want to learn, and suddenly you're a bad person.

Neville, the incompetent, had melted his cauldron. Again.

Heaven save us from the weak-minded fools who say we can't cane the ones who don't pay attention. 'So, what do you think you did wrong today Mr Longbottom?' he asked the boy.

Neville stammered something incoherent, and desperately tried to clean up the mess. The Gryffindor students glared at Snape, as if fools should be tolerated, and the Slytherins jeered at Neville as if there was something deeply amusing about humiliation. He wasn't sure which reaction annoyed him the most.

If only something different would happen.

***

Spike and Drusilla had a new travelling companion. Petunia was settling in well, as if being a vampire was a hell of a lot better than being a mother and a wife. Spike privately thought that compared with marriage to that Vernon bloke, having your nads chewed off by a rabid dog would probably be preferable.

Spike looked at Petunia. 'So, King's Cross yeah? This is where the school train comes to? Which platform?'

Petunia stared back. 'I don't know which platform. We always left before Harry got onto the platform. Why didn't you let me eat Vernon? The bastard had it coming.'

'Now now dear, don't think with your stomach. Dunno why chalky man couldn't tell us where the sodding thing comes off, they can't have changed it since he went to the damn school. Well, all we gotta do is find the platform, after that we can follow the tracks.'

Drusilla had been quiet for the last five minutes, silently rocking to and fro on her heels, swaying gently. 'There's a wall here.' She started to wail quietly, 'A big nasty wall. But there's a door, and there's no wall really, and there's no door, and no big nasty wall, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!'

Drusilla's loud wail attracted the attention of a security guard, who came hurrying toward the three.

'Be a dear', Spike said to Petunia, 'and take care of that nasty looking blighter will you? Me and Dru are gonna take a peep at that big bad wall.' Having said that, Spike and Dru walked over to the wall between platforms 9 and 10, while Petunia busied herself with drinking the guard dry. When Petunia looked around, Spike and Dru were walking through the wall, so she ran after them once she had let the body drop. As she went through the wall, and felt the world briefly disappear, she heard a woman scream and drop something.

***

Timothy Freeley enjoyed his job. Studying at Hogwarts twenty years ago had been such a chore, and he had always preferred the world inside his head. Daydreamer. That's what they all called him. Well, what was wrong with dreams? They were much better than hard work, he certainly didn't want to be some mindless crony in the Ministry of Magic. So he drove the train from Kings Cross to Hogwarts. Tonight he was picking up another catering delivery for the kitchens at the school. He wondered privately if there would be fewer night deliveries if the house elves weren't so ready to give food to students outside of proper hours. Still, he liked the ride between destinations, so he never complained.

Someone rapped on the window of the carriage behind the drivers compartment.

Timothy got out of his chair, and walked into the passenger area, and looked through the clear glass of the door. A man was standing there, looking expectant. He didn't look like the usual guy, Bert. Bert certainly didn't wear a leather jacket, and he would never dye his hair that colour.

Timothy opened the door, and leaned out. 'Where's Bert-' the rest of the sentence was cut off as two things happened. Firstly, he saw Bert's legs partially hidden behind a pillar, and secondly, Spike bit his neck.

***

Spike waited a few minutes for the train driver to come back round. As Timothy stood up, his face was full of demonic hunger. Spike pointed at Bert's body that he'd hidden not long ago.

'Feed quickly.' He said, 'we've got a train to catch.'

Timothy smiled.

***

It was very late at night. Professor McGonagall was marking homework again. She looked at her enchanted hourglass. Two in the morning, she thought, the children complain at how much I set them, they should try marking it all, see how they like that.

She continued working for another ten minutes, and went to bed as soon as she felt her eyelids start to droop.

***

Filch was also up late. It was his job to patrol at nights, as well as clean during the day. It was amazing that he hadn't had a nervous breakdown yet, or collapsed from exhaustion. He suspected that the only thing keeping him going was the special wizard-made coffee that he drank in copious amounts each day. Theoretically it should allow him to cope with the twenty hour days he seemed to be expected to deal with, but he still felt like he was on the verge of something about to go wrong.

He was waiting by the door at the moment, waiting for the catering delivery.

A voice came through from the other side of the door.

'Filch? You there? It's Timothy, umm…we've got the food out here.'

Filch put down the Daily Prophet he had been reading, and got up from his creaky chair.

'Well,' he said, 'get on with it.'

There was some muffled, but urgent, whispering coming from behind the door, followed by what sounded like one person hitting the other around the back of the head.

'Ow,' came Timothy's voice again, 'err…I can't come in unless you invite me. Err…it's the new protocol. Umm…didn't Dumbledore…err…tell you?'

'No.' said Filch coldly. 'Will you stop pissing about and do your job?'

'Look, mate' came another voice from behind the door, 'it's pissing down out here, will you just bloody well invite us in?'

'Whatever you will,' muttered Filch. 'I think you've gone barmy from driving up and down the whole time. Come on in then you pratt.'

'Finally.' said the voice that had spoken just before, as Filch opened the door. Filch stared for a few seconds. One man and two women dressed as Muggles were there, as well as Timothy. Except all three looked extremely angry, this state largely being contributed to by their yellow eyes, bestial frowns, and sharp, sharp teeth.

Spike stepped in quickly and snapped Filch's neck. 'What a rude man.' He said absent-mindedly, as Drusilla bent down to feed from him. After a minute of feeding, Drusilla stood back up. She looked quite focused.

'Spike my love. We're here.'

'I know, Dru my pet. We're going to have a party.'

Spike and Drusilla grinned maliciously at each other.