The Chosen Few
A Harry Potter tale of many crossovers
By: solarphoenix
Disclaimer: I, solarphoenix, do not own any recognizable character,
trademark, or franchise. They belong to their owners, J.K Rowling, Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Stan Lee, etc. This disclaimer is subject to grow in upcoming chapters. I am making no profit with this story. Please enjoy.
Chapter One
The Recruits
God does not play dice with the universe: He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e. everybody], to being involved in an obscure and complex variant of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.
Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman, Good Omens If life is not a game, then how come there are so many players?
Anonymous
The hazy summer night was scorching hot and Charlie Weasley was starting to wish that he had opted for his torn Muggle jeans rather than the dragon- hide pants that were currently making certain . . .members uncomfortable with their accommodations. Of course, these said dragon-hide pants were earning him appreciative glances from the finer sex . . .and some others who wished they were part of that fine social standing.
It was for that actual reason that he had opted for the unconventional pants, as an uncharacteristically daring Remus Lupin had suggested that they would make a better impression on the feminine portion of the group he was to meet that evening. Charlie (and every other member of the Order) thought that this out of character behavior was probably due to the event of Sirius Black's death a few years prior. It was said that people did odd things when they grieved. So if Remus was going to act a bit daring in memory of his friend, who was always more of a brother than the term friend could ever allow, then so be it. He was still fighting the good fight. It had actually been on Remus' instructions that he had come to the American city known as Los Angeles, or to those who dare not show respect to names, L.A.
After the unfortunate events at the end of June a few years prior, as unfortunate events always happened in June, the Order of the Phoenix had doubled their efforts. Which had led to Charlie Weasley being sent everywhere across the world, both Muggle and Wizard, to search for specialists that could aid them in the Second War, or as it was more commonly known amongst the Order, 'The Good Fight.'
Charlie, being the modest Weasley that he was, had initially thought that he had been offered the lofty position because he was one of the few members of the Order who lived abroad and had taken Muggle Studies at school. However, it had soon become apparent that Charlie had also been chosen for his, 'salty goodness', as one of his recruits had told him. A smile fleeted his face, yes; he remembered that meeting quite well.
The woman had been named Faith, quite ironically, as she had none. Her lips had been painted the most scandalous shade of red and her hardened brown eyes covered in the darkest of eye make-up. She had been clad in tight hip hugger leather pants, and her blood red shirt had left little for the imagination. Her dark hair had fallen into her face in what less dignified wizards would have called a 'seductive' manner. She had by all means looked like a Muggle prostitute; not just by her clothing of course, Charlie was much too intelligent a wizard to base opinions solely on appearance, but by her fickle stance, her manner of speaking, and not to mention the way that she had thrusted herself upon him.
Of course, Charlie had not known that she had been trying to protect him from a vampire's attack. He had assumed, like any hot-blooded man would have, that she had wanted what could only be described as 'hot monkey love'. Charlie, being the polite British man that he could be when the time called for it, had sputtered indignantly and said that he was taken (a lie if he ever knew it; all of the Order were too occupied to be worried about romantic pursuits) and was not interested in her advances. That of course, was when she had rolled off him and moved in what could only be described as a dance.
It was the most primal of dances Charlie had thought. It was the dance of death.
And it looked as though she had been born to dance.
It had taken him a few moments to realize that he had better start dancing as well as the street was surrounded by the speed-bump-faced demon hybrids. He had whipped out his wand in record time and had shouted out a spell he had heard Hermione Granger use once before,
"LUMOS SOLEM!"
The street had been filled with fiery sunlight. It was not the artificial light that the First Year lumos spell created. On the contrary, lumos solem had the ability to create real sunlight, a handy tool to use against vampires Charlie had thought smugly as they efficiently turned into dust.
Of course, Charlie's smugness had quickly dissipated as Faith had had him in a chokehold in five seconds flat. Gone was her fickle demeanor, all that was left was what Charlie had been looking for that night. A Vampire Slayer.
Vampire Slayers were a rare breed of Muggle girl gifted with supernatural strength, agility, and healing capabilities. They were Chosen at random, found, and trained by stuffy, pompous, British men or women named Watchers. Charlie vaguely remembered the large tome that Remus had placed in front of him.
~*~
'In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.'
~*~
By then of course, the term 'The' had to be lost, as slayers had been long defying the term 'Chosen One'. But the story behind that particular loophole was a complex one and Charlie could not remember a thing of the intricately woven tapestry that was the tale of the Slayer.
Charlie had not been looking for a slayer however; he had been looking for this one. An exceptionally good one, one that had danced the dance of death on both sides: the rogue Slayer.
The similarity between past and present recruit was quite uncanny, as Remus Lupin had sent him to find this charge as well. The werewolf had seemed to have a never-ending bag of tricks as of late, confirming even the most ridiculous of Luna Lovegood's beliefs such as Vampire Slayers and Human Spiders. And everyone knew why: the man was making damn sure that Harry Potter would beat the monster who had made the lives of everyone close to him a living hell. But what fewer people knew: he wanted to show the world why The Marauders still struck fear into teacher's hearts. Live on The Marauders would.
Faith had not seemed surprised that Charlie had known her name, nor what she was. She had taken the information about the wizard world and the fight going on across the pond in good measure. He had readily answered her questions about the Wizarding World as he had answered them a million times before. Of course, all of these questions had been answered while he had still been in the chokehold. It had seemed that the only thing that truly surprised her was the fact that her former watcher, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, had suggested her for the Good Fight (the chokehold had then been hesitantly released). Charlie, using his Weasley charm, had lamely replied,
"It's a small world after all."
Her face had broken into a grin, and she had answered, "Care to make it even smaller, Mr. Salty Goodness?"
Charlie had still not been informed of how one of the most driven members of the Order (second only to perhaps Harry or Dumbledore) had come to know the former Watcher, only that they had worked together for a brief spell while Pryce had been between jobs.
Not that it really mattered of course. Charlie had been sent all over on less information . . .
Charlie had been recently sent to Japan to recruit a rumored schizophrenic twenty-year old man with multi-coloured gravity defying hair (who looked about as Japanese as Crookshanks' back-side) on the sole information of his address and that he could be trusted.
Charlie had been skeptical when he had first caught a glimpse of the boy. For that's what he looked like upon first glance, he couldn't have been over five feet. But Charlie's opinion quickly changed as the boy emanated a sense of power. Charlie could never decide whether the power came from the pyramid shaped pendant around his neck or from his mystical amethyst eyes. And as blunt as his brothers could be at times, Charlie had had to control his tongue not to ask such a foolish question.
The boy, no, man, had introduced himself as Yugi Moto. He had had a kind demeanor, and a child-like precision in the way he spoke. Charlie had found it harder to believe than ever that, according to Dumbledore, the childish man in front of him was an expert on prophecies and a skilled Legilimens, though he himself knew not the name for his talent.
When Yugi had grasped what the conversation was leading to, an ethereal glow had enveloped his body, and it had been at that moment that Charlie had become a believer.
The change had been dramatic to say the least. The round eyes became sleeker, darker, and nearly sinister in appearance. His body became angular and he had seemed to have grown several inches.
Then he had introduced himself as Yami in a deep baritone.
Charlie had known then and there that the Order of the Phoenix had a new ally.
Yami had not been the only Japanese citizen that Charlie had the pleasure of recruiting however. Quite the contrary, Charlie had had the 'pleasure' of recruiting three more citizens of the well-mannered country before he had set off to the Americas . . .
It was possibly the most violent recruit he had been sent to do, and had left Charlie positively disgruntled at Dumbledore's contact, one Eli Moon.
Said Eli Moon was a sorcerer. Sorcery was a completely different magic than Wizardry. Sorcerers (and Sorceresses) depended upon the power of elements, light, darkness, the sun, the moon, the stars, and the personal aptness of one's ability to channel these virtually uncontrollable forces. Wizards (and Witches) on the other hand, depended upon the power within them and used wands to channel the energy into a tangible force.
As soon as the sorcerer Eli Moon's name had passed Charlie's lips, his finest robes, which he had worn for the occasion as to show respect to the temperamental Elemental sorcerer Li Showron, (a brooding young man with dark brown eyes, tousled brown hair, and a slightly Neanderthal-like logic: burn first, ask questions later) had been promptly set on fire. It had only been when his wife Sakura, (a soft-spoken woman who had immediately reminded Charlie of the late Lily Potter in appearance) the most powerful Starlight sorceress in the world, had joined the two men into the spacious dining room, that Charlie had finally managed to make his plea for their cooperation.
Two hours, twenty questions, and a pair of new robes later, Charlie Weasley had not only recruited the help of Sakura and Li Showron but also the expertise of a fast talking, fire breathing, chocolate eating stuffed toy. Also known as Keroberos, Guardian of the Seal. He only went by Kero however.
At first glance, Charlie had decided he would not have let the toy guard his breakfast, let alone a seal. He had voiced as much. The saying hind- sight is twenty-twenty had came into play in the scenario that followed mere seconds after the words left Charlie's lips, as the seemingly harmless stuffed toy had transformed into a fire breathing lion-like creature that would have made any Dragon loving Gryffindor proud. Had they not been on the receiving end of a fireball of course.
A thoroughly charred Charlie Weasley had disapparated from the Showron Manor to a field in the middle of nowhere, where Kingsley Shacklebolt awaited, with the green-eyed Sakura, tousled-haired Showron, and stuffed toy Kero following in his wake.
Charlie grimaced as he remembered that particularly painful recruit. However, he knew he had nothing to complain about. A loss of good robes was spilt pumpkin juice compared to what some people had lost. People had lost family. Good people.
Charlie's musings took an angsty turn as he remembered Harry's explosive speech to the Order only a few nights before.
'Yeah? Well, I don't like having to give a bunch of speeches about how we're all going to live, because we won't. This isn't some story where good triumphs because good triumphs. Good people are going to die! Good people have died!'
Very few things terrified Charlie Weasley. One was his mother when she was upset, another was He-Who-Must-.Voldemort, and the last was the look in Harry James Potter's eyes when he was angry.
Charlie stopped his journey down the Muggle Street in a rather anti- climatic manner as he noticed that his pondering had let him walk past the entrance of the foreboding building named Wolfram and Hart. Doubling back on his journey he took a moment to gaze up at the seemingly endless windowed building.
It was not the first time that Charlie had had to enter a Muggle law firm. Quite the contrary, the first time had been early in his career of recruiting for the Order.
The recruit had been Viktor Krum, former Seeker of the Bulgarian International Quidditch team. He had been a student at Durmstrang, a Wizarding school famous for its dealings with the Dark Arts, but according to Dumbledore, Krum was a valuable and trustworthy ally.
Charlie had been disappointed to say the least as he saw the round- shouldered, duck-footed legend up close. The Muggle suit had not suited him in the least, but according to the former legend's tale, was necessary. It had seemed that Vicky's parents had disowned their son when they learned that he was in pursuit of a more legitimate career than Quidditch and Dark Arts. After meeting Hermione (whose name he continued to pronounce 'Herm- own-ninny') Granger who had spoken highly of Muggle employment, and upon hearing of his interest of law, had suggested his becoming a lawyer.
The Weasley's disappointment had quickly disappeared, replaced by a presence of pride as Krum's tale had come to a close. This man had had the courage to turn away from his own flesh and blood to do what was right. A selfless move to protect innocence. The truest of Gryffindors. It was then that Charlie had made his proposition.
Krum had accepted with little convincing needed.
Charlie could only hope that this evening's recruit would go on similarly well.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie took one last glance at the three dimensional sign of big bold letters marking the building Wolfram and Hart. Charlie thought the sign mocking. Such a Muggle decoration for a place that possibly held more magic then even Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry itself.
And with a sense of foreboding, Charlie Weasley entered what most considered a direct route to hell.
~*~
'They always have to bring someone, don't they,' muttered Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, as he glanced at his parchment that said he was to expect three people not four, 'can't just bring themselves.'
Both of his eyes (a rare occurrence these days) were narrowed at the small mismatched group who had just entered the unplottable airplane hanger where they would be tested, with their escort Kingsley Shacklebolt.
The airplane hanger had been an ingenious idea of Potter's.
'Why compromise the location of the Order when we could simply enchant some old Muggle building to be unplottable and put anti-apparition wards around it? Something dispensable.'
And so they had. The hanger was spacious enough for the 'hired help' to practice their craft, as well as provide them with appropriate accommodations for the time being while the Research department, headed by Hermione Granger, found a suitable way to test them. As of that period of time, they had started to develop something that was a cross between the Dark Mark and the spell Granger used in her fifth year to locate the traitor within the DA, Marietta Edgecomb.
The Order of the Phoenix Headquarters had been quite a busy place as of late since Charlie Weasley's research of the past year had finally been completed enough to let him recruit a greater variety of help. Help that exceeded Wizards and Witches. Charlie, with the aid of Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood, had had to research countless tomes, volumes, Watcher diaries, newspaper archives (both Muggle and Magical), and not to forget every obscure acquaintance that the older Order members had met.
Mad-Eye certainly did not envy the second-eldest Weasley who was currently in the Muggle city of Los Angeles, known in the Wizarding world as having one of the highest concentrations of demons in the dimension. Give him a pack of Death Eaters any day Moody thought. A wish that seemed to be getting granted less and less everyday, the main reason for the Order's frantic scurry for help. They wished that the sightings of less Death Eaters was because of the Order's success, but they all knew that that was not the case. The Dark Lord was planning something, and it was sure to be big.
And rounding on those thoughts did Mad-Eye once again notice the mismatched group in front of him. Most of them looked like Muggles. One was a blue- eyed chap with a mysterious grin, of fair build and unspoken power. He had a camera hanging around his neck and a duffle bag falling from his shoulder. Another had the eyes of chocolate and tousled brown hair to rival Potter's. A scowl was etched on his face as his eyes bore into the back of Shacklebolt's bald head as he talked animatedly to a woman who bore a striking resemblance to the late Lily Potter. Mad-Eye caught a glimpse of the wedding band on the Lily Potter-look-alike's ring finger and found its companion on Chocolate Eyes. Mad-Eye immediately prayed to all and any Gods that they did not end up on the same road as the deceased Potters.
The last looked not to be a Muggle, or a Wizard. In fact, it did not look like anything the retired Auror had ever seen. It was flying in similar fashion as that of a golden Snitch. Erratic in its movements and even more so in its speech patterns.
'What in the bloody hell is that?' Mad-Eye asked gruffly.
The 'Snitch' flew up to his face and in a voice similar to a New York taxi driver introduced himself as,
'Keroberos, Guardian of the Seal of the Sakura Cards.'
'That s'pose to mean anything to me, Kero, is it?' Moody sneered.
However, he was never met with a response as the Lily Potter-look-alike laughed nervously (hiding the toy behind her back) and introduced herself in a soft-spoken voice (that would never have belonged to the late Lily Potter) as Sakura Showron, nee Kinomoto, of Tomoeda, Japan. Of course, similar to the 'schizophrenic' Yami, she, nor her husband (Li Showron), looked Asian in the slightest.
That left only the blue-eyed chap with the mischievous grin at the back to be introduced. He looked a slight too confident for Moody's taste. Slightly too much like a young Sirius Black, slightly too much as if he was going to get himself killed by his arrogance . . .
'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' roared Moody.
Nearly everyone in the hanger jumped. All except that cocky blue-eyed chap and the 'schizophrenic'.
The blue-eyed man swaggered up to Moody, and offered his unscathed hand to Moody's knarled one.
'Peter Parker, alias Spider-Man. Abilities include spider-sense, bordering pre-cog. I'll be your . . . the word was Muggle right?' he said turning to Shacklebolt, who nodded in the affirmative. 'Your Muggle Scientist.'
The man was brave. Moody would give him that. Though he was unnervingly like the deceased Sirius Black. From the way his brown hair swept into his eyes, to the cocky, swaggering walk.
'Alastor Moody. Most call me Mad-Eye. Explanations unnecessary.'
'I am most certain they are Mr. Moody,' he replied, shaking Moody's hand.
At least he had more respect.
*
The introductions were done and the group was separated into their private and specialized sleeping arrangements. Moody was heading back to the entrance of the hanger, limping steadily on his wooden leg and using his cane in an expert-like fashion when it happened.
Mai Valentine, if Moody remembered the name correctly, a curvaceous blond (with a rack to write home about) who had tagged-along with an assortment of Muggles and the 'schizophrenic' Yami, ran up to him breathlessly.
Strange how one occurrence can change the course of time.
Her voice came out in separate syllables.
'Ya. Mi. Cards. Eyes. Blank. Proph. E. Cy.'
Moody ran as fast as he could to the circle of onlookers who were circling around the man as if he were some freak show.
'Well,' mused Moody, 'he sort of is, inny?'
However, by the time Moody had hobbled across the large hanger, the prophet had finished his prophecy. What looked to be Muggle playing cards were strewn across the makeshift bed.
'Did anyone write down what he said?' demanded Moody.
No one was in a rush to answer it seemed.
'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' Mad-Eye roared, unbelieving of the seemingly idiocy of the 'hired help'.
'Calm yourself Mad-Eye,' said the baritone voice of Yami calmly, as he fingered the strange necklace in his hand with the unusual eye-shaped pendant. 'I remember exactly what I prophesized, and have written it out for you.'
In a childish scrawl Yami had wrote,
'The Yanyangogo Prophecy
Three two faced champions of different names each
Have fallen temporarily from life's bittersweet reach
Mourned, they were dead in the blackest of depths
Until a meeting occurred, they were thrown to the steps
For of two's and of three's the champions are
From the impossible made possible, claimed lives as ours.
In the lightest of places, a true paradox,
Where lights claim the white are extinguished with nox.
The marked shall appear on hope's wildest flame
To the champions three with life's dual name.'
'Yanyangogo?' Moody asked, his scarred eyebrow arched, making his face appear more grotesque then ever.
'It is Japanese for "twos and threes", I thought it appropriate.'
'Any idea what this babbling means?'
'I would have thought it obvious,' replied Yami, a bemused expression sparkling in his amethyst eyes.
'I haven't time for games, Moto, tell it straight, or don't tell it at all. Last thing we need's another bloody Snape.'
And with a perfectly calm expression, Yami replied,
'Three people are coming back from the dead.'
~*~
Hermione Granger's research had always been thorough. Always. Her research for the Order was extraordinarily no different, Harry Potter decided as he ran a hand through his short, unruly, jet-black hair. Twenty file folders were spread across the table at number 12 Grimmauld Place, and Harry and Ron Weasley were having a ball reading through the compilation of information for the recruits that Charlie Weasley was busy . . . well for lack of better term, recruiting.
'Look, she even has his blood type!' laughed Ron as he handed Harry the folder marked Viktor Krum.
'You reckon she knows more of these people than they know themselves?' Harry asked, grinning as he read through the contents of the folder, pausing to read the offending comment, O positive.
'Proba- urgh!' Ron cried.
'What is it?' Harry asked scampering to where Ron was sitting, looking unnaturally pale.
'There's a bloke named Spider-Man!' Ron said shuddering.
Harry stifled a laugh as he peered over Ron's shoulder to get a closer look at the photograph.
Sure enough, there was a man in a blue and red spandex suit holding a red mask in his hand grinning cockily at the camera, giving a mock salute. Scrawled on the back of the photograph was:
Name: Peter Parker- alias Spider-Man Abilities: Climbing walls, webbing, agility, super-natural strength, high pain tolerance, photography, stealth, and 'spider-sense'. Extremely knowledgeable about Muggle Science.
'They're not enlisting Muggles to help us?' Ron asked disbelievingly.
'What good's a Muggle going to be against a bunch of Death Eaters?' Harry pondered.
'Well,' said a familiar, bossy voice startling the two men. 'You'd know if you read through the files in the order I gave them to you. Oh and constant vigilance boys.'
Hermione Granger in all her bushy haired glory stood behind them holding a new folder in her hand.
'Well, maybe I didn't like your order,' retorted Ron, his ears turning red with anger, 'maybe you're so clever, but maybe me and Harry here thought your order was too complicated.'
'My order's called the alphabet Ron.'
'Oh,' said Ron sheepishly, turning scarlet this time in embarrassment.
Harry stifled a laugh as he looked at the ridiculous expressions on his best friends' faces.
'Time passes very slowly in the Granger-Weasley relationship,' Harry thought to himself.
'Not that I mind you being here Hermione, but why exactly are you here?' Harry asked while Ron was muttering something that sounded like, 'Constant vigilance my bloody arse.'
Shooting Ron a look, Hermione replied, 'We've had another tag-along.'
'Not another Muggle I hope. It was bad enough when that Robin fellow followed that Slayer,' Harry said shaking his head, 'not to mention the assorted set of Muggles that followed that other bloke, can't remember for the life of me what his name was . . .'
'No, not another Muggle, a guardian beast of sorts, kind of a lion-angel hybrid, goes by two forms,' Hermione informed them, placing the new folder on the ever-growing pile, and as an afterthought added, 'And I'm rather surprised that you know anything about the situation going down at the hanger, seeing as nobody down there has seen a mere glimpse of you.'
'I don't need a lecture Hermione,' Harry sighed.
'No, but these people are risking their lives for you. They are combining their powers to help you destroy an invincible foe. Even the Muggles who have been brought along have something to contribute. You need to meet them, to talk to them, to-'
'Get to know them? Get to like them so when they get killed I can be crushed once more because I'll have cared for them? You don't know what your asking me Hermione,' Harry's voice was barely above a whisper.
'I'm asking you to show compassion,' Hermione said savagely.
'No Hermione, you're asking me to suffer.'
There was a pregnant pause. The tension so thick that the three friends could have sworn they would have had to use a reductor curse to blast through it.
'Potter, we have a situation,' said a gruff voice from the fire, startling the trio so much that Ron fell out of his chair.
Harry scampered to the fire.
'What is it? Death Eaters? Voldemort? A riot?' Harry demanded, each suggestion being shot down by the shaking of Moody's disembodied head.
'A prophecy.'
'What does it say?'
Beat.
'It says that Sirius Black is coming back to life.'
~*~
Immediately after Charlie had set foot into Wolfram and Hart he was ambushed.
The welcome party was a strong and burly bunch, and Charlie, much to his dismay didn't have the time to utter a single incantation before he was hit in the back of the head with a club.
'Bloody coward,' Charlie cursed before he fell into unconsciousness.
Upon his awakening, Charlie was greeted with a most unusual sight. Beautiful women gazing at his prone form surrounded him.
'Am I in heaven?' he asked goofily, his speech slurred heavily.
'Far from it,' one of them, a blonde with tilted green eyes, muttered.
At the same time another woman, this one with overly large blue eyes and long sandy hair squealed, 'He's awake!'
The shrill note in the blue-eyed girl's voice awoke Charlie completely as he sat upright on what looked to be a leather sofa.
The sound of feet rushing could be heard and soon heavily armed men in Muggle suits surrounded Charlie. He seemed to be at every point possible: gun point, crossbow point, sword point and knifepoint. With every new face, a new and more intriguing point appeared. One of the men, a scrawny man with blonde hair even had him at camera point.
'Is this a private party or can anyone join?' Charlie asked, trying to whip out his non-existent wand from the compartment in his pants and looking rather foolish in the process.
'Looking for this?' asked the blonde with the tilted green eyes in a sugared tone, dangling the wand in front of him like a treat for a dog.
'As a matter of fact I am,' Charlie replied, crossing his arms, 'care to give it back?'
'Hey, he's from Giles-land!' exclaimed a black-haired, one-eyed man bringing up the rear of the armed group with a crossbow.
'Xander, do keep your mouth closed,' scolded a bespectacled older British man with sandy hair and tired blue-grey eyes.
The one-eyed man named Xander promptly shut his mouth, giving a mock salute.
The entire group sighed in annoyance at the exchange between the two men.
Charlie took this moment of distraction to try to pluck the wand from the blonde's hand, but this action proved futile as the petite blonde put him into a chokehold.
'What's so special about the stick?' she hissed in his ear as she threw the wand to the woman with the overly large blue eyes.
'It's not a stick,' Charlie snapped.
A red-haired woman suggested, 'You know it kind of looks like a,' she shot a glance at the blue-eyed girl, ' like something dirty.'
The group took the full implication of her words. The blue-eyed girl sighing in annoyance at her friend's change of phrase.
'Gay aren't we all,' Xander concluded.
'I am not a homosexual!' Charlie sputtered indignantly.
'Well, in those pants, you aren't fooling anyone, you know. What are they, alligator skin?' chirped the blonde, tightening her grip.
'Dragon-hide!' snapped Charlie.
Which was obviously the wrong thing to say as the group now thought him gay and insane.
'He related to Angelus?' a tall bald black man asked, 'I mean, does anyone who's not evil wear leather pants around here?'
'Plus he's a hunk of hero sandwich,' added a green skinned demon in an outrageously coloured suit.
'Who in the bloody hell's.' but the curse fell short as he realized who these people were. The people whom he was suppose to recruit.
'Damn it,' he whispered.
'Once more for the people in the back,' said Xander, 'not all of us have super-hearing ya know. Show some consideration for the norm-'
'My name is Charlie Weasley, and I have been sent by Albus Dumbledore to recruit members for the Order of the Phoenix,' Charlie stated in a loud clear voice.
His voice resonated throughout the room, as the group looked at each other confused. One pregnant pause and a few bemused expressions later, and the silence was broken by:
'Let him go Buffy,' said a slightly fading British accent, 'and give him back his wand.'
'Wand?'
'The stick,' was his reply.
The blonde named Buffy followed the orders, albeit very reluctantly just as Faith had done not so long ago.
As soon as the wand was placed back in Charlie's hand, he put it safely in the compartment on his thigh. He then proceeded to walk towards the slightly fading British voice, and was met with the site of a clean-cut looking man with hardened blue eyes and a neat hairstyle.
'Mr. Wyndham-Pryce I presume?' Charlie asked tersely.
'Mr. Weasley,' Pryce replied, offering his hand in greeting.
'Sorry for the misunderstanding, but my team was unable to locate pictures of the recruits. My negotiations aren't usually as . . . hostile,' Charlie explained, eyeing Buffy whom he now knew was a Vampire Slayer.
'You two know each other?' asked a tall brooding man.
'No, for you see, if we had known each other, I highly doubt that I would have been attacked by a bunch of cowardly wankers and then held at point,' answered Charlie matter-of-factly.
'Well, you set off all of the alarms, we thought you were, well, you know,' she paused for dramatic effect, ' dangerous,' explained a wisp of a woman with a Texan accent.
'Alarms?'
'Magic alarms, with what's going on across the pond . . .'
'So you know of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?' asked Charlie surprised.
'If you mean Voldemort,' said the other British man, whom Charlie suspected was named Rupert Giles, 'then yes, we've heard the rumors.'
Charlie let out a bark of laughter, 'Rumors, indeed.'
'Okay, what the hell's happening here, some new big bad?' Buffy asked.
Charlie shook his head, 'Not new. Quite old actually.'
'Yeah, well I've put back the oldest. Let me at him.'
'I intend to.'
The conversation might have gone on longer had it not been for one Harry Potter arriving via Floo Powder and demolishing an entire wall. Of course, it might also have gone on longer had the room had not disappeared into a void of white.
~*~
Lord Voldemort had seen many strange, unusual and sickly things in his lifetime. As a matter of fact, he had caused most of them, but never would he have expected this. For the man who fancied himself as Lord, was having tea with none other than Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Of course, he was not drinking the tea as he had no corporeal form, but it was his green eyes staring back at Voldemort's lidless red ones, and his voice coming out of his chapped lips, and his scarred head resting on his steepled fingers in a bored manner as Voldemort passed his hand through 'Potter's' chest.
'Quite an interesting parlor trick you have, Potter,' Voldemort observed.
At this comment 'Potter' had stood up from the intricately carved chair.
'Yes, it's quite a hit at all the underworld parties that I've been invited to lately,' he proclaimed, brushing off non-existent dust from his immaculate robes, 'Though, it is said that my impressions are quite good as well, care to see?'
And in a moment, Potter's features melted into those of a much taller and handsomer boy. A face Voldemort recognized to well, after all he had gazed into those sapphire eyes for a good eighteen years before they became rubies.
'Though, as much as a good banter between friends warms my non-corporeal heart, I came here to make a proposition.'
'What is this magic?' Voldemort hissed drawing his wand from the folds of his black robes.
And it shape-shifted again, this time in the form of a lovely woman with dark red hair and hardened green eyes. Lily Potter
'Something you underestimated.'
'Riddikulus!' cried Voldemort standing up.
James Potter.
'Your boggart's my wife? Quite interesting that is.'
Rita Skeeter.
'That'll be in all of the newspapers. "LORD VOLDEMORT FEARS MUGGLE-BORN".'
Lucius Malfoy.
'I do not believe I ever had the pleasure of seeing you so frightened milord.'
And back to Potter.
'Quite good aren't they? I've been practicing for a while now. Since the beginning actually. Not the bang, not the word, no, the true beginning. I really liked that speech, you know,' he said conversationally as he transformed into a wrinkled Vampire with a permanent red ring of blood around his lips, 'It showed so much promise.'
'What are you?' Voldemort questioned, his grip on his wand tightening.
'The First,' he replied simply, turning into a tall broad-shouldered man in leather pants, a smirk playing at his lips, 'Though I was thinking about you calling me Master.'
'I pledge allegiance only to the greatest of Hogwarts Four. Salazar -'
'Slytherin?' interrupted the First turning into the man himself. His pale hair and skin was contrasting greatly with the black attire of the previous body, 'I thought you would say that my little descendant.'
'How? Wh-'
'You ask quite a lot of questions for an Evil Overlord my sweet.'
Bellatrix Lestrange.
'Playing the hero are you? I thought that was my job?'
Potter once more, a mock-hurt expression on his face.
'I shall ask this once more. Who are you and why do you bother Lord Voldemort?'
'Voldemort doesn't want to play? Fine, I was always told to never play with my food,' the First replied, turning into a curvaceous young woman with ruby red lips and curly hair.
'I am the First. Not a name that strikes fear into the heart's of men, but I decided I needed a name to remind me of my humble beginnings. And as I said before, I am here to make a proposition.'
Potter once more.
'And why should I believe you?'
Beat.
'Dead men tell no lies.'
End Chapter One - The Recruits
Author's Notes: This chapter is named after the brilliant movie 'The Recruit' starring Colin Farrell and Al Pacino, where nothing is as it seems, as it is all a game. Which is quite relevant to this chapter as Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are far from dead. Confused? Do not worry, all shall be explained in good time. Such things include why Spider-Man is in a story about magic and wizards.
A Harry Potter tale of many crossovers
By: solarphoenix
Disclaimer: I, solarphoenix, do not own any recognizable character,
trademark, or franchise. They belong to their owners, J.K Rowling, Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Stan Lee, etc. This disclaimer is subject to grow in upcoming chapters. I am making no profit with this story. Please enjoy.
Chapter One
The Recruits
God does not play dice with the universe: He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e. everybody], to being involved in an obscure and complex variant of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.
Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman, Good Omens If life is not a game, then how come there are so many players?
Anonymous
The hazy summer night was scorching hot and Charlie Weasley was starting to wish that he had opted for his torn Muggle jeans rather than the dragon- hide pants that were currently making certain . . .members uncomfortable with their accommodations. Of course, these said dragon-hide pants were earning him appreciative glances from the finer sex . . .and some others who wished they were part of that fine social standing.
It was for that actual reason that he had opted for the unconventional pants, as an uncharacteristically daring Remus Lupin had suggested that they would make a better impression on the feminine portion of the group he was to meet that evening. Charlie (and every other member of the Order) thought that this out of character behavior was probably due to the event of Sirius Black's death a few years prior. It was said that people did odd things when they grieved. So if Remus was going to act a bit daring in memory of his friend, who was always more of a brother than the term friend could ever allow, then so be it. He was still fighting the good fight. It had actually been on Remus' instructions that he had come to the American city known as Los Angeles, or to those who dare not show respect to names, L.A.
After the unfortunate events at the end of June a few years prior, as unfortunate events always happened in June, the Order of the Phoenix had doubled their efforts. Which had led to Charlie Weasley being sent everywhere across the world, both Muggle and Wizard, to search for specialists that could aid them in the Second War, or as it was more commonly known amongst the Order, 'The Good Fight.'
Charlie, being the modest Weasley that he was, had initially thought that he had been offered the lofty position because he was one of the few members of the Order who lived abroad and had taken Muggle Studies at school. However, it had soon become apparent that Charlie had also been chosen for his, 'salty goodness', as one of his recruits had told him. A smile fleeted his face, yes; he remembered that meeting quite well.
The woman had been named Faith, quite ironically, as she had none. Her lips had been painted the most scandalous shade of red and her hardened brown eyes covered in the darkest of eye make-up. She had been clad in tight hip hugger leather pants, and her blood red shirt had left little for the imagination. Her dark hair had fallen into her face in what less dignified wizards would have called a 'seductive' manner. She had by all means looked like a Muggle prostitute; not just by her clothing of course, Charlie was much too intelligent a wizard to base opinions solely on appearance, but by her fickle stance, her manner of speaking, and not to mention the way that she had thrusted herself upon him.
Of course, Charlie had not known that she had been trying to protect him from a vampire's attack. He had assumed, like any hot-blooded man would have, that she had wanted what could only be described as 'hot monkey love'. Charlie, being the polite British man that he could be when the time called for it, had sputtered indignantly and said that he was taken (a lie if he ever knew it; all of the Order were too occupied to be worried about romantic pursuits) and was not interested in her advances. That of course, was when she had rolled off him and moved in what could only be described as a dance.
It was the most primal of dances Charlie had thought. It was the dance of death.
And it looked as though she had been born to dance.
It had taken him a few moments to realize that he had better start dancing as well as the street was surrounded by the speed-bump-faced demon hybrids. He had whipped out his wand in record time and had shouted out a spell he had heard Hermione Granger use once before,
"LUMOS SOLEM!"
The street had been filled with fiery sunlight. It was not the artificial light that the First Year lumos spell created. On the contrary, lumos solem had the ability to create real sunlight, a handy tool to use against vampires Charlie had thought smugly as they efficiently turned into dust.
Of course, Charlie's smugness had quickly dissipated as Faith had had him in a chokehold in five seconds flat. Gone was her fickle demeanor, all that was left was what Charlie had been looking for that night. A Vampire Slayer.
Vampire Slayers were a rare breed of Muggle girl gifted with supernatural strength, agility, and healing capabilities. They were Chosen at random, found, and trained by stuffy, pompous, British men or women named Watchers. Charlie vaguely remembered the large tome that Remus had placed in front of him.
~*~
'In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.'
~*~
By then of course, the term 'The' had to be lost, as slayers had been long defying the term 'Chosen One'. But the story behind that particular loophole was a complex one and Charlie could not remember a thing of the intricately woven tapestry that was the tale of the Slayer.
Charlie had not been looking for a slayer however; he had been looking for this one. An exceptionally good one, one that had danced the dance of death on both sides: the rogue Slayer.
The similarity between past and present recruit was quite uncanny, as Remus Lupin had sent him to find this charge as well. The werewolf had seemed to have a never-ending bag of tricks as of late, confirming even the most ridiculous of Luna Lovegood's beliefs such as Vampire Slayers and Human Spiders. And everyone knew why: the man was making damn sure that Harry Potter would beat the monster who had made the lives of everyone close to him a living hell. But what fewer people knew: he wanted to show the world why The Marauders still struck fear into teacher's hearts. Live on The Marauders would.
Faith had not seemed surprised that Charlie had known her name, nor what she was. She had taken the information about the wizard world and the fight going on across the pond in good measure. He had readily answered her questions about the Wizarding World as he had answered them a million times before. Of course, all of these questions had been answered while he had still been in the chokehold. It had seemed that the only thing that truly surprised her was the fact that her former watcher, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, had suggested her for the Good Fight (the chokehold had then been hesitantly released). Charlie, using his Weasley charm, had lamely replied,
"It's a small world after all."
Her face had broken into a grin, and she had answered, "Care to make it even smaller, Mr. Salty Goodness?"
Charlie had still not been informed of how one of the most driven members of the Order (second only to perhaps Harry or Dumbledore) had come to know the former Watcher, only that they had worked together for a brief spell while Pryce had been between jobs.
Not that it really mattered of course. Charlie had been sent all over on less information . . .
Charlie had been recently sent to Japan to recruit a rumored schizophrenic twenty-year old man with multi-coloured gravity defying hair (who looked about as Japanese as Crookshanks' back-side) on the sole information of his address and that he could be trusted.
Charlie had been skeptical when he had first caught a glimpse of the boy. For that's what he looked like upon first glance, he couldn't have been over five feet. But Charlie's opinion quickly changed as the boy emanated a sense of power. Charlie could never decide whether the power came from the pyramid shaped pendant around his neck or from his mystical amethyst eyes. And as blunt as his brothers could be at times, Charlie had had to control his tongue not to ask such a foolish question.
The boy, no, man, had introduced himself as Yugi Moto. He had had a kind demeanor, and a child-like precision in the way he spoke. Charlie had found it harder to believe than ever that, according to Dumbledore, the childish man in front of him was an expert on prophecies and a skilled Legilimens, though he himself knew not the name for his talent.
When Yugi had grasped what the conversation was leading to, an ethereal glow had enveloped his body, and it had been at that moment that Charlie had become a believer.
The change had been dramatic to say the least. The round eyes became sleeker, darker, and nearly sinister in appearance. His body became angular and he had seemed to have grown several inches.
Then he had introduced himself as Yami in a deep baritone.
Charlie had known then and there that the Order of the Phoenix had a new ally.
Yami had not been the only Japanese citizen that Charlie had the pleasure of recruiting however. Quite the contrary, Charlie had had the 'pleasure' of recruiting three more citizens of the well-mannered country before he had set off to the Americas . . .
It was possibly the most violent recruit he had been sent to do, and had left Charlie positively disgruntled at Dumbledore's contact, one Eli Moon.
Said Eli Moon was a sorcerer. Sorcery was a completely different magic than Wizardry. Sorcerers (and Sorceresses) depended upon the power of elements, light, darkness, the sun, the moon, the stars, and the personal aptness of one's ability to channel these virtually uncontrollable forces. Wizards (and Witches) on the other hand, depended upon the power within them and used wands to channel the energy into a tangible force.
As soon as the sorcerer Eli Moon's name had passed Charlie's lips, his finest robes, which he had worn for the occasion as to show respect to the temperamental Elemental sorcerer Li Showron, (a brooding young man with dark brown eyes, tousled brown hair, and a slightly Neanderthal-like logic: burn first, ask questions later) had been promptly set on fire. It had only been when his wife Sakura, (a soft-spoken woman who had immediately reminded Charlie of the late Lily Potter in appearance) the most powerful Starlight sorceress in the world, had joined the two men into the spacious dining room, that Charlie had finally managed to make his plea for their cooperation.
Two hours, twenty questions, and a pair of new robes later, Charlie Weasley had not only recruited the help of Sakura and Li Showron but also the expertise of a fast talking, fire breathing, chocolate eating stuffed toy. Also known as Keroberos, Guardian of the Seal. He only went by Kero however.
At first glance, Charlie had decided he would not have let the toy guard his breakfast, let alone a seal. He had voiced as much. The saying hind- sight is twenty-twenty had came into play in the scenario that followed mere seconds after the words left Charlie's lips, as the seemingly harmless stuffed toy had transformed into a fire breathing lion-like creature that would have made any Dragon loving Gryffindor proud. Had they not been on the receiving end of a fireball of course.
A thoroughly charred Charlie Weasley had disapparated from the Showron Manor to a field in the middle of nowhere, where Kingsley Shacklebolt awaited, with the green-eyed Sakura, tousled-haired Showron, and stuffed toy Kero following in his wake.
Charlie grimaced as he remembered that particularly painful recruit. However, he knew he had nothing to complain about. A loss of good robes was spilt pumpkin juice compared to what some people had lost. People had lost family. Good people.
Charlie's musings took an angsty turn as he remembered Harry's explosive speech to the Order only a few nights before.
'Yeah? Well, I don't like having to give a bunch of speeches about how we're all going to live, because we won't. This isn't some story where good triumphs because good triumphs. Good people are going to die! Good people have died!'
Very few things terrified Charlie Weasley. One was his mother when she was upset, another was He-Who-Must-.Voldemort, and the last was the look in Harry James Potter's eyes when he was angry.
Charlie stopped his journey down the Muggle Street in a rather anti- climatic manner as he noticed that his pondering had let him walk past the entrance of the foreboding building named Wolfram and Hart. Doubling back on his journey he took a moment to gaze up at the seemingly endless windowed building.
It was not the first time that Charlie had had to enter a Muggle law firm. Quite the contrary, the first time had been early in his career of recruiting for the Order.
The recruit had been Viktor Krum, former Seeker of the Bulgarian International Quidditch team. He had been a student at Durmstrang, a Wizarding school famous for its dealings with the Dark Arts, but according to Dumbledore, Krum was a valuable and trustworthy ally.
Charlie had been disappointed to say the least as he saw the round- shouldered, duck-footed legend up close. The Muggle suit had not suited him in the least, but according to the former legend's tale, was necessary. It had seemed that Vicky's parents had disowned their son when they learned that he was in pursuit of a more legitimate career than Quidditch and Dark Arts. After meeting Hermione (whose name he continued to pronounce 'Herm- own-ninny') Granger who had spoken highly of Muggle employment, and upon hearing of his interest of law, had suggested his becoming a lawyer.
The Weasley's disappointment had quickly disappeared, replaced by a presence of pride as Krum's tale had come to a close. This man had had the courage to turn away from his own flesh and blood to do what was right. A selfless move to protect innocence. The truest of Gryffindors. It was then that Charlie had made his proposition.
Krum had accepted with little convincing needed.
Charlie could only hope that this evening's recruit would go on similarly well.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie took one last glance at the three dimensional sign of big bold letters marking the building Wolfram and Hart. Charlie thought the sign mocking. Such a Muggle decoration for a place that possibly held more magic then even Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry itself.
And with a sense of foreboding, Charlie Weasley entered what most considered a direct route to hell.
~*~
'They always have to bring someone, don't they,' muttered Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, as he glanced at his parchment that said he was to expect three people not four, 'can't just bring themselves.'
Both of his eyes (a rare occurrence these days) were narrowed at the small mismatched group who had just entered the unplottable airplane hanger where they would be tested, with their escort Kingsley Shacklebolt.
The airplane hanger had been an ingenious idea of Potter's.
'Why compromise the location of the Order when we could simply enchant some old Muggle building to be unplottable and put anti-apparition wards around it? Something dispensable.'
And so they had. The hanger was spacious enough for the 'hired help' to practice their craft, as well as provide them with appropriate accommodations for the time being while the Research department, headed by Hermione Granger, found a suitable way to test them. As of that period of time, they had started to develop something that was a cross between the Dark Mark and the spell Granger used in her fifth year to locate the traitor within the DA, Marietta Edgecomb.
The Order of the Phoenix Headquarters had been quite a busy place as of late since Charlie Weasley's research of the past year had finally been completed enough to let him recruit a greater variety of help. Help that exceeded Wizards and Witches. Charlie, with the aid of Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood, had had to research countless tomes, volumes, Watcher diaries, newspaper archives (both Muggle and Magical), and not to forget every obscure acquaintance that the older Order members had met.
Mad-Eye certainly did not envy the second-eldest Weasley who was currently in the Muggle city of Los Angeles, known in the Wizarding world as having one of the highest concentrations of demons in the dimension. Give him a pack of Death Eaters any day Moody thought. A wish that seemed to be getting granted less and less everyday, the main reason for the Order's frantic scurry for help. They wished that the sightings of less Death Eaters was because of the Order's success, but they all knew that that was not the case. The Dark Lord was planning something, and it was sure to be big.
And rounding on those thoughts did Mad-Eye once again notice the mismatched group in front of him. Most of them looked like Muggles. One was a blue- eyed chap with a mysterious grin, of fair build and unspoken power. He had a camera hanging around his neck and a duffle bag falling from his shoulder. Another had the eyes of chocolate and tousled brown hair to rival Potter's. A scowl was etched on his face as his eyes bore into the back of Shacklebolt's bald head as he talked animatedly to a woman who bore a striking resemblance to the late Lily Potter. Mad-Eye caught a glimpse of the wedding band on the Lily Potter-look-alike's ring finger and found its companion on Chocolate Eyes. Mad-Eye immediately prayed to all and any Gods that they did not end up on the same road as the deceased Potters.
The last looked not to be a Muggle, or a Wizard. In fact, it did not look like anything the retired Auror had ever seen. It was flying in similar fashion as that of a golden Snitch. Erratic in its movements and even more so in its speech patterns.
'What in the bloody hell is that?' Mad-Eye asked gruffly.
The 'Snitch' flew up to his face and in a voice similar to a New York taxi driver introduced himself as,
'Keroberos, Guardian of the Seal of the Sakura Cards.'
'That s'pose to mean anything to me, Kero, is it?' Moody sneered.
However, he was never met with a response as the Lily Potter-look-alike laughed nervously (hiding the toy behind her back) and introduced herself in a soft-spoken voice (that would never have belonged to the late Lily Potter) as Sakura Showron, nee Kinomoto, of Tomoeda, Japan. Of course, similar to the 'schizophrenic' Yami, she, nor her husband (Li Showron), looked Asian in the slightest.
That left only the blue-eyed chap with the mischievous grin at the back to be introduced. He looked a slight too confident for Moody's taste. Slightly too much like a young Sirius Black, slightly too much as if he was going to get himself killed by his arrogance . . .
'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' roared Moody.
Nearly everyone in the hanger jumped. All except that cocky blue-eyed chap and the 'schizophrenic'.
The blue-eyed man swaggered up to Moody, and offered his unscathed hand to Moody's knarled one.
'Peter Parker, alias Spider-Man. Abilities include spider-sense, bordering pre-cog. I'll be your . . . the word was Muggle right?' he said turning to Shacklebolt, who nodded in the affirmative. 'Your Muggle Scientist.'
The man was brave. Moody would give him that. Though he was unnervingly like the deceased Sirius Black. From the way his brown hair swept into his eyes, to the cocky, swaggering walk.
'Alastor Moody. Most call me Mad-Eye. Explanations unnecessary.'
'I am most certain they are Mr. Moody,' he replied, shaking Moody's hand.
At least he had more respect.
*
The introductions were done and the group was separated into their private and specialized sleeping arrangements. Moody was heading back to the entrance of the hanger, limping steadily on his wooden leg and using his cane in an expert-like fashion when it happened.
Mai Valentine, if Moody remembered the name correctly, a curvaceous blond (with a rack to write home about) who had tagged-along with an assortment of Muggles and the 'schizophrenic' Yami, ran up to him breathlessly.
Strange how one occurrence can change the course of time.
Her voice came out in separate syllables.
'Ya. Mi. Cards. Eyes. Blank. Proph. E. Cy.'
Moody ran as fast as he could to the circle of onlookers who were circling around the man as if he were some freak show.
'Well,' mused Moody, 'he sort of is, inny?'
However, by the time Moody had hobbled across the large hanger, the prophet had finished his prophecy. What looked to be Muggle playing cards were strewn across the makeshift bed.
'Did anyone write down what he said?' demanded Moody.
No one was in a rush to answer it seemed.
'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' Mad-Eye roared, unbelieving of the seemingly idiocy of the 'hired help'.
'Calm yourself Mad-Eye,' said the baritone voice of Yami calmly, as he fingered the strange necklace in his hand with the unusual eye-shaped pendant. 'I remember exactly what I prophesized, and have written it out for you.'
In a childish scrawl Yami had wrote,
'The Yanyangogo Prophecy
Three two faced champions of different names each
Have fallen temporarily from life's bittersweet reach
Mourned, they were dead in the blackest of depths
Until a meeting occurred, they were thrown to the steps
For of two's and of three's the champions are
From the impossible made possible, claimed lives as ours.
In the lightest of places, a true paradox,
Where lights claim the white are extinguished with nox.
The marked shall appear on hope's wildest flame
To the champions three with life's dual name.'
'Yanyangogo?' Moody asked, his scarred eyebrow arched, making his face appear more grotesque then ever.
'It is Japanese for "twos and threes", I thought it appropriate.'
'Any idea what this babbling means?'
'I would have thought it obvious,' replied Yami, a bemused expression sparkling in his amethyst eyes.
'I haven't time for games, Moto, tell it straight, or don't tell it at all. Last thing we need's another bloody Snape.'
And with a perfectly calm expression, Yami replied,
'Three people are coming back from the dead.'
~*~
Hermione Granger's research had always been thorough. Always. Her research for the Order was extraordinarily no different, Harry Potter decided as he ran a hand through his short, unruly, jet-black hair. Twenty file folders were spread across the table at number 12 Grimmauld Place, and Harry and Ron Weasley were having a ball reading through the compilation of information for the recruits that Charlie Weasley was busy . . . well for lack of better term, recruiting.
'Look, she even has his blood type!' laughed Ron as he handed Harry the folder marked Viktor Krum.
'You reckon she knows more of these people than they know themselves?' Harry asked, grinning as he read through the contents of the folder, pausing to read the offending comment, O positive.
'Proba- urgh!' Ron cried.
'What is it?' Harry asked scampering to where Ron was sitting, looking unnaturally pale.
'There's a bloke named Spider-Man!' Ron said shuddering.
Harry stifled a laugh as he peered over Ron's shoulder to get a closer look at the photograph.
Sure enough, there was a man in a blue and red spandex suit holding a red mask in his hand grinning cockily at the camera, giving a mock salute. Scrawled on the back of the photograph was:
Name: Peter Parker- alias Spider-Man Abilities: Climbing walls, webbing, agility, super-natural strength, high pain tolerance, photography, stealth, and 'spider-sense'. Extremely knowledgeable about Muggle Science.
'They're not enlisting Muggles to help us?' Ron asked disbelievingly.
'What good's a Muggle going to be against a bunch of Death Eaters?' Harry pondered.
'Well,' said a familiar, bossy voice startling the two men. 'You'd know if you read through the files in the order I gave them to you. Oh and constant vigilance boys.'
Hermione Granger in all her bushy haired glory stood behind them holding a new folder in her hand.
'Well, maybe I didn't like your order,' retorted Ron, his ears turning red with anger, 'maybe you're so clever, but maybe me and Harry here thought your order was too complicated.'
'My order's called the alphabet Ron.'
'Oh,' said Ron sheepishly, turning scarlet this time in embarrassment.
Harry stifled a laugh as he looked at the ridiculous expressions on his best friends' faces.
'Time passes very slowly in the Granger-Weasley relationship,' Harry thought to himself.
'Not that I mind you being here Hermione, but why exactly are you here?' Harry asked while Ron was muttering something that sounded like, 'Constant vigilance my bloody arse.'
Shooting Ron a look, Hermione replied, 'We've had another tag-along.'
'Not another Muggle I hope. It was bad enough when that Robin fellow followed that Slayer,' Harry said shaking his head, 'not to mention the assorted set of Muggles that followed that other bloke, can't remember for the life of me what his name was . . .'
'No, not another Muggle, a guardian beast of sorts, kind of a lion-angel hybrid, goes by two forms,' Hermione informed them, placing the new folder on the ever-growing pile, and as an afterthought added, 'And I'm rather surprised that you know anything about the situation going down at the hanger, seeing as nobody down there has seen a mere glimpse of you.'
'I don't need a lecture Hermione,' Harry sighed.
'No, but these people are risking their lives for you. They are combining their powers to help you destroy an invincible foe. Even the Muggles who have been brought along have something to contribute. You need to meet them, to talk to them, to-'
'Get to know them? Get to like them so when they get killed I can be crushed once more because I'll have cared for them? You don't know what your asking me Hermione,' Harry's voice was barely above a whisper.
'I'm asking you to show compassion,' Hermione said savagely.
'No Hermione, you're asking me to suffer.'
There was a pregnant pause. The tension so thick that the three friends could have sworn they would have had to use a reductor curse to blast through it.
'Potter, we have a situation,' said a gruff voice from the fire, startling the trio so much that Ron fell out of his chair.
Harry scampered to the fire.
'What is it? Death Eaters? Voldemort? A riot?' Harry demanded, each suggestion being shot down by the shaking of Moody's disembodied head.
'A prophecy.'
'What does it say?'
Beat.
'It says that Sirius Black is coming back to life.'
~*~
Immediately after Charlie had set foot into Wolfram and Hart he was ambushed.
The welcome party was a strong and burly bunch, and Charlie, much to his dismay didn't have the time to utter a single incantation before he was hit in the back of the head with a club.
'Bloody coward,' Charlie cursed before he fell into unconsciousness.
Upon his awakening, Charlie was greeted with a most unusual sight. Beautiful women gazing at his prone form surrounded him.
'Am I in heaven?' he asked goofily, his speech slurred heavily.
'Far from it,' one of them, a blonde with tilted green eyes, muttered.
At the same time another woman, this one with overly large blue eyes and long sandy hair squealed, 'He's awake!'
The shrill note in the blue-eyed girl's voice awoke Charlie completely as he sat upright on what looked to be a leather sofa.
The sound of feet rushing could be heard and soon heavily armed men in Muggle suits surrounded Charlie. He seemed to be at every point possible: gun point, crossbow point, sword point and knifepoint. With every new face, a new and more intriguing point appeared. One of the men, a scrawny man with blonde hair even had him at camera point.
'Is this a private party or can anyone join?' Charlie asked, trying to whip out his non-existent wand from the compartment in his pants and looking rather foolish in the process.
'Looking for this?' asked the blonde with the tilted green eyes in a sugared tone, dangling the wand in front of him like a treat for a dog.
'As a matter of fact I am,' Charlie replied, crossing his arms, 'care to give it back?'
'Hey, he's from Giles-land!' exclaimed a black-haired, one-eyed man bringing up the rear of the armed group with a crossbow.
'Xander, do keep your mouth closed,' scolded a bespectacled older British man with sandy hair and tired blue-grey eyes.
The one-eyed man named Xander promptly shut his mouth, giving a mock salute.
The entire group sighed in annoyance at the exchange between the two men.
Charlie took this moment of distraction to try to pluck the wand from the blonde's hand, but this action proved futile as the petite blonde put him into a chokehold.
'What's so special about the stick?' she hissed in his ear as she threw the wand to the woman with the overly large blue eyes.
'It's not a stick,' Charlie snapped.
A red-haired woman suggested, 'You know it kind of looks like a,' she shot a glance at the blue-eyed girl, ' like something dirty.'
The group took the full implication of her words. The blue-eyed girl sighing in annoyance at her friend's change of phrase.
'Gay aren't we all,' Xander concluded.
'I am not a homosexual!' Charlie sputtered indignantly.
'Well, in those pants, you aren't fooling anyone, you know. What are they, alligator skin?' chirped the blonde, tightening her grip.
'Dragon-hide!' snapped Charlie.
Which was obviously the wrong thing to say as the group now thought him gay and insane.
'He related to Angelus?' a tall bald black man asked, 'I mean, does anyone who's not evil wear leather pants around here?'
'Plus he's a hunk of hero sandwich,' added a green skinned demon in an outrageously coloured suit.
'Who in the bloody hell's.' but the curse fell short as he realized who these people were. The people whom he was suppose to recruit.
'Damn it,' he whispered.
'Once more for the people in the back,' said Xander, 'not all of us have super-hearing ya know. Show some consideration for the norm-'
'My name is Charlie Weasley, and I have been sent by Albus Dumbledore to recruit members for the Order of the Phoenix,' Charlie stated in a loud clear voice.
His voice resonated throughout the room, as the group looked at each other confused. One pregnant pause and a few bemused expressions later, and the silence was broken by:
'Let him go Buffy,' said a slightly fading British accent, 'and give him back his wand.'
'Wand?'
'The stick,' was his reply.
The blonde named Buffy followed the orders, albeit very reluctantly just as Faith had done not so long ago.
As soon as the wand was placed back in Charlie's hand, he put it safely in the compartment on his thigh. He then proceeded to walk towards the slightly fading British voice, and was met with the site of a clean-cut looking man with hardened blue eyes and a neat hairstyle.
'Mr. Wyndham-Pryce I presume?' Charlie asked tersely.
'Mr. Weasley,' Pryce replied, offering his hand in greeting.
'Sorry for the misunderstanding, but my team was unable to locate pictures of the recruits. My negotiations aren't usually as . . . hostile,' Charlie explained, eyeing Buffy whom he now knew was a Vampire Slayer.
'You two know each other?' asked a tall brooding man.
'No, for you see, if we had known each other, I highly doubt that I would have been attacked by a bunch of cowardly wankers and then held at point,' answered Charlie matter-of-factly.
'Well, you set off all of the alarms, we thought you were, well, you know,' she paused for dramatic effect, ' dangerous,' explained a wisp of a woman with a Texan accent.
'Alarms?'
'Magic alarms, with what's going on across the pond . . .'
'So you know of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?' asked Charlie surprised.
'If you mean Voldemort,' said the other British man, whom Charlie suspected was named Rupert Giles, 'then yes, we've heard the rumors.'
Charlie let out a bark of laughter, 'Rumors, indeed.'
'Okay, what the hell's happening here, some new big bad?' Buffy asked.
Charlie shook his head, 'Not new. Quite old actually.'
'Yeah, well I've put back the oldest. Let me at him.'
'I intend to.'
The conversation might have gone on longer had it not been for one Harry Potter arriving via Floo Powder and demolishing an entire wall. Of course, it might also have gone on longer had the room had not disappeared into a void of white.
~*~
Lord Voldemort had seen many strange, unusual and sickly things in his lifetime. As a matter of fact, he had caused most of them, but never would he have expected this. For the man who fancied himself as Lord, was having tea with none other than Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Of course, he was not drinking the tea as he had no corporeal form, but it was his green eyes staring back at Voldemort's lidless red ones, and his voice coming out of his chapped lips, and his scarred head resting on his steepled fingers in a bored manner as Voldemort passed his hand through 'Potter's' chest.
'Quite an interesting parlor trick you have, Potter,' Voldemort observed.
At this comment 'Potter' had stood up from the intricately carved chair.
'Yes, it's quite a hit at all the underworld parties that I've been invited to lately,' he proclaimed, brushing off non-existent dust from his immaculate robes, 'Though, it is said that my impressions are quite good as well, care to see?'
And in a moment, Potter's features melted into those of a much taller and handsomer boy. A face Voldemort recognized to well, after all he had gazed into those sapphire eyes for a good eighteen years before they became rubies.
'Though, as much as a good banter between friends warms my non-corporeal heart, I came here to make a proposition.'
'What is this magic?' Voldemort hissed drawing his wand from the folds of his black robes.
And it shape-shifted again, this time in the form of a lovely woman with dark red hair and hardened green eyes. Lily Potter
'Something you underestimated.'
'Riddikulus!' cried Voldemort standing up.
James Potter.
'Your boggart's my wife? Quite interesting that is.'
Rita Skeeter.
'That'll be in all of the newspapers. "LORD VOLDEMORT FEARS MUGGLE-BORN".'
Lucius Malfoy.
'I do not believe I ever had the pleasure of seeing you so frightened milord.'
And back to Potter.
'Quite good aren't they? I've been practicing for a while now. Since the beginning actually. Not the bang, not the word, no, the true beginning. I really liked that speech, you know,' he said conversationally as he transformed into a wrinkled Vampire with a permanent red ring of blood around his lips, 'It showed so much promise.'
'What are you?' Voldemort questioned, his grip on his wand tightening.
'The First,' he replied simply, turning into a tall broad-shouldered man in leather pants, a smirk playing at his lips, 'Though I was thinking about you calling me Master.'
'I pledge allegiance only to the greatest of Hogwarts Four. Salazar -'
'Slytherin?' interrupted the First turning into the man himself. His pale hair and skin was contrasting greatly with the black attire of the previous body, 'I thought you would say that my little descendant.'
'How? Wh-'
'You ask quite a lot of questions for an Evil Overlord my sweet.'
Bellatrix Lestrange.
'Playing the hero are you? I thought that was my job?'
Potter once more, a mock-hurt expression on his face.
'I shall ask this once more. Who are you and why do you bother Lord Voldemort?'
'Voldemort doesn't want to play? Fine, I was always told to never play with my food,' the First replied, turning into a curvaceous young woman with ruby red lips and curly hair.
'I am the First. Not a name that strikes fear into the heart's of men, but I decided I needed a name to remind me of my humble beginnings. And as I said before, I am here to make a proposition.'
Potter once more.
'And why should I believe you?'
Beat.
'Dead men tell no lies.'
End Chapter One - The Recruits
Author's Notes: This chapter is named after the brilliant movie 'The Recruit' starring Colin Farrell and Al Pacino, where nothing is as it seems, as it is all a game. Which is quite relevant to this chapter as Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are far from dead. Confused? Do not worry, all shall be explained in good time. Such things include why Spider-Man is in a story about magic and wizards.