Title: Magic of a Different Nature
Crossover: Harry Potter/ Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: R for now, possibly can go up to NC-17 in the future
Summary: After Chosen, Spike is found, close to death, near Hogwarts. Was it some freak
accident, or is he there for a reason?
Disclaimer: I own neither the Potterverse or the Buffyverse. I do, however, own a cute little stuffed
penguin named Sigmund.
To Katearah,
I loved your challenge, so decided to take you up on it.
I hope you enjoy so far... I know I've enjoyed writing it.
He'd never felt pain like this. Getting clobbered by the Slayer seemed like Christmas compared to this. The challenges he'd faced getting his soul back seemed like lollypops and chocolate cake compared to the pounding in his veins. 'I'm going to die,' he thought, the idea not too unappealing.
But, he had gone out with a bang, so to say. He felt relieved, in a way... he had spent most of his life surrounded by evil, and enjoying it. Then, because of one woman, he joined the good side. He had proven himself to her... death now seemed unimportant. He couldn't possibly redeem himself, or his soul.. he knew that. He wasn't fooling himself like the Poof. He knew, if he did die, he would end up in Hell. And he knew that he deserved each and every torture inflicted upon him. Despite his suffering, he would finally be at peace.
Suddenly, all pain ceased, and the shock left him stunned, unable to comprehend what had happened. "Buffy..." the name left his lips as he lost consciousness.
"I think it unwise to be off of school grounds this late in the evening..."
"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes, "we're just going to visit Hagrid."
Hermione stuck her lip out, pouting, "I know that. But we do have class with him tomorrow."
"Hagrid's seemed awful depressed lately," Harry commented, shifting under the invisibility cloak, "I just want to make sure he's OK."
Hermione sighed, also shifting underneath Harry's cloak, "This thing is becoming quite the challenge to fit under," she said, "we won't all be able to fit soon."
"That's true. We're going to have to come up with some other way to get around after dark," Harry said. He smiled, "or, Ron could just cut back on the pumpkin pie."
"Hey!" Ron protested, "I'm a growing boy! I need my strength!"
Hermione giggled.
"Here we are," Harry whispered, carefully stepping up to Hagrid's door, then knocking softly.
The door swung open immediately, Hagrid's face awash with excitement. "Professor..." he paused when he saw no one, then looked down. His face fell, "Oh, it's you. Well, come on in then."
The three companions threw the cloak off and hurried inside Hagrid's home.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked, embarrassed, "not happy to see us, are you? We were just coming by to see how you were!"
"Ron," Hermione hissed.
"No," he answered, "I want to know why Hagrid is so very disappointed to see us."
"Ron," Harry said, louder.
Ron was stamping about the room, ranting, "That was completely unacceptable, Hagrid. You owe us an apology!"
"RON!" Harry's and Hermione's voices together seemed to pull the teen from his rant, and he looked over to them.
"What?"
"Look at this..." Ron came to where his friends were standing, and his eyes opened in shock.
"Hagrid," Harry began, "where did you find him?"
"Near the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid answered, thoughtful, "was in even worse shape then than he is now. He heals bloody fast."
Hermione was looking down at the young man with interest. He was wearing tight black pants, and his red wife beater couldn't hide his well-developed muscles... especially considering the many rips in it. He had grimy, bleached blonde hair and a scar above his eyebrow. He was covered in ugly yellow bruises, and there were a few charred bits of skin hanging from his flesh. "What possibly could have happened to him?" she wondered.
"Haven't a clue," Hagrid answered her question, "but I sent a message over to Professor Dumbledore, and that's why I was disappointed. Not because it was you three, but because it wasn't him."
"We understand," Harry said, "what are you going to do with him?"
"Don't rightly know," Hagrid answered, "for now, he's restin' comfortably."
"Are you sure he's alive?" Hermione asked.
Her companions turned to her in confusion.
"He doesn't appear to be breathing," Hermione shrugged, "though his lips and fingernails are a healthy color. Mind if I check for a pulse?" she asked.
Hagrid shook his head.
Hermione slowly reached her hand forward, and just as she was about to come in contact with his neck, a hand shot up and caught her wrist. "Eep!" she squealed, frightened.
"Buffy?" the man's voice was weak, his eyes barely open. "Buffy, is that you, Love?"
Hermione looked to her friends for help, but they all shrugged.
"At least we know he's alive," Ron whispered.
"Buffy? Where are we?" the man's voice was calm, but Hermione could sense an underlying hostility.
"Shhh," Hermione soothed, extricating herself from his grip and gently placing her hand upon his forehead, "sleep now. We'll talk more in the morning."
He seemed to calm at her words, and his eyes closed completely. "When'd you.." he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep, "when'd you get an accent, Love? It suits you."
Hermione blushed as she stepped away from the man.
"Someone has a boyfriend!" Ron taunted.
"Shut your dirty mouth, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione hissed, irritated, "he mistook me for some girl named Buffy. Quite an unusual name, isn't it?"
Her companions nodded in agreement.
"Maybe we should try to find this Buffy... Hermione, is there a spell for locating people based on their names?" Harry asked, excited.
Hermione nodded, "There is. However, we have far too little information to be able to use it."
"How so?" Ron asked.
"Well, for one thing, we don't even have a last name. Secondly, Buffy could be a nickname, or a pet-name, or even short for some other name entirely," Hermione was tapping her lip, thinking.
"Also, he commented on how she didn't have an accent... which most likely means that she's not from around here. She could live in Nicaragua, or Jordan, or even America for all we know," she added.
"Alright, so we can't locate this Buffy person... yet. We just have to wait for him to wake up, then he can give us some more information," Harry looked at the young man again, "what do you suppose his name is, anyway?"
Hermione shook her head, then suddenly a light came into her eyes, "Harry, you have the Marauder's Map on you, don't you?"
Harry took out his father's heirloom, tapped his wand onto the paper and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Writing flooded the once pristine white paper, and he handed the map over to his friend.
Hermione looked at the map for only a moment before letting out a triumphant, "Yes!"
"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked, curious.
Hermione set the map down onto Hagrid's table, and pointed excitedly to the spot that was labeled, "Hagrid's cabin."
"See there? We're all here: Hagrid, Hermione, Ron, Harry, and... William," she looked back over to the man sleeping restlessly and let out a small sigh. "But really, where does that get us? As far as the map goes, he doesn't seem to have a last name... peculiar..."
"Well, at least we don't have to keep calling him 'that guy' right?" Ron tried to lighten the mood, but his smile disappeared at Hermione's disapproving glance.
"Really, Ron. The poor man is obviously hurt and lost, and all you can do is make fun of him!" Hermione glared.
"I- I didn't mean anything by it!" Ron insisted.
Hagrid, silent up until now, snickered, "Don't want to be upsetting your lady now, Ron. Much easier to deal with when they're happy."
Ron turned a pale shade of green as Hermione turned her glare onto the giant. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Hagrid?"
"Nothin', nothin', " Hagrid backed up, his hands in a defensive gesture.
Hermione made a small "hmph" sound and handed the map back to Harry, who promptly stated, "Mischief managed," and shoved the paper into his pocket.
"You ought to get back to your rooms, now," Hagrid said, "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore'll be here soon."
"Hagrid's right," Hermione said, her tone still angry from his earlier comment, "we should leave, and we can come to visit William tomorrow," she glared at the half-giant, "right, Hagrid?"
"O' course, o' course!" he answered hastily, "now be on yer way."
The three friends left the cabin, shifting uncomfortably underneath the invisibility cloak.
The group neared the Griffyndor common room, and Hermione muttered, "Sweet snickerdoodle," effectively waking the fat lady from her slumber.
"Yes, yes," she murmured, swinging aside.
Harry threw the cloak off himself and his friends as they walked into the room. "I suppose sleep is in order now," he said, yawning.
"Right," Ron agreed, and the two headed up to boy's dormitory.
"Night, Hermione," the two called out in unison.
Hermione smiled on her way up to her own room and shook her head, "My boys," she muttered beneath her breath.
Harry awoke the next morning to the sensation of a big, sloppy dog-kiss.
"Fang!" he muttered, still half-asleep, "please, not now. Breakfast isn't for another two hours..."
He was rewarded with another lick, then a few splatters of drool hitting him on his left cheek.
"Alright, alright, I'm up!" Harry groaned, sitting up and reaching for his glasses, "what is it?"
Fang stretched his neck out, revealing a large piece of parchment tied to his collar.
"Lumos," Harry whispered, trying not to wake his roommates, and grabbing hold of the parchment. He let out a little "Eek," when he touched the paper, slick with Fang's drool.
"Dear Harry," he immediately recognized Hagrid's handwriting, "sorry about needing to send Fang, but you see, I'm a little preoccupied with you know who. I have an agreement with the painting outside your door, so don't you worry about him getting in and out. The reason I'm writing is because I'll be canceling class tomorrow, but I need you and Hermione and Ron to stop by the cabin anyway. It's real important. Thanks, Hagrid."
Harry considered the letter. 'Well... if Hagrid says it's important, than I suppose it is,' Harry thought, and sent Fang on his way. He lay back down to sleep, but found himself wondering what Hagrid needed to talk to them about. He didn't fall asleep for another hour, and by then, he was certain that he would learn something new about William.
"I miss him, Willow," she picked up a pair of navy blue pumps and let out a small sigh. "I know that he saved the world, and I'm glad... but sometimes I can't help but be angry at him. He left me, Wills..." a soft sob tore from her throat, and she set the shoes back down again. She shook her head, "I don't need any more shoes..."
"Buffy, are you OK?" Willow was concerned. It never mattered if she needed more shoes... she got them anyway.
The oldest living Slayer shook her head. "I won't be OK until I know that Spike's OK. Isn't there any way to find out where he is? Heaven, hell... somewhere in between?"
"I can look into it," Willow agreed, "and I'll call you as soon as I find anything."
Buffy smiled, "Thanks, Wills. You're the greatest."
Willow shrugged, "No problem. But, since you don't need those..." she grabbed the pair of shoes that Buffy had just set back down and headed toward the cash register, "I think I'll pick them up for my date with Kennedy this weekend.."
"No! Willow, I was just kidding! Come on... I'm grief-stricken here!" Buffy complained, looking longingly at the blue pumps.
Willow laughed, "I figured," she tossed the shoes, "here you go."
"You are the greatest," she beamed at her friend, staring lovingly at the pair of shoes. When she looked up, however, her eyes alighted upon a pair of golden strappy sandals. "Ooh... shiny..."
Author's Notes:
I'm not too great with Hagrid's accent, so for the most part he's just going to speak like everyone else.
This story is set in the student's 7th year; however, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince never happened. I began
writing this before I read the book.
I hope you all enjoyed what I have so far. This is my first attempt at a continuation, so bear with me on updates.
Thanks!
Shooby
P.S. If anyone is interested in being a beta, I could really use it. I barely have enough time to write, let alone
proofread everything. E-mail me at if you're interested.