Title: Spikey Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
Author: Flick
E-Mail: FinalFantasyFlick@yahoo.com
Summary: Harry Potter with Buffy characters.
Dedication: Hilary for inflicting her love of Spike on me and encouraging me to write...stuff, Sarah who encouraged me to actually pick up a book and read it from start to finish and to everyone who gave me positive feedback for 'A Fluffy Interlude'.
Chapter Three
The Letters from Someone
For days, Spike was left to his own devices in the basement organising the Trio's comic collections. Whenever he was interrupted, it was only because Warren needed Spike to do something else such as taking the garbage out (which he refused to do in broad daylight), fetching and sorting the mail and putting up a Spiderman poster in Andrew's corner of the basement while he watched and insisted that it be level with his Star Wars poster.
It was only when Spike was left alone that he felt truly happy. He'd think of the times he spent with Dru and Darla. He'd daydream about them turning up in the basement and ripping Warren's throat out and eating it before rescuing him from this afterlife of slavery. He sat alone and thought about this one morning whilst playing with his only given toy - a stormtrooper with a missing head. The familiar sounding clunk of the letterbox told Spike that it was time to fetch the mail. Warren ordered him to do this daily whether or not he needed reminding of his duties within the basement. Tossing his stormtrooper to one side, Spike pushed himself up off his chair and headed towards the front door.
He came back a few moments later with a pile of envelopes in his hand.
"Let's see..." he started, shuffling through the mail.
"Junk mail for Jonathan.." he tossed a few letters and leaflets over to where Jonathan was sat.
"Wanker's Weekly for Warren..." he chucked over what looked like a science fiction related magazine to Warren who treated Spike to one of his more deadly stares.
"Nothing for Andrew because nobody likes him..." Andrew shrugged as if in agreement and went back to the computer he was sat at.
Spike was left with one envelope in his hand. What made him pause at that point was the fact that he was holding a letter in his hand that was for him. Nobody ever wrote to him because nobody outside of the basement knew him. Who could be writing to him? He could have discarded it as a typing error but there it was, clear as what he remembered day to look like.
Mr Spikey Potter,
The Cupboard Under The Stairs,
Warren's House,
Sunnydale
Jonathan was the first person to notice the unusual silence surrounding Spike. Then he saw the letter. Before Spike could even bite the envelope open, Jonathan had seized it from him. "Guys! Guys! Spike's got a letter!" he cried, causing the others to huddle around him and examine the letter as if he'd just unearthed a bomb.
"Oi! You bloody sod, that's MINE!" Spike tried to push the three of them off his letter but they kept passing it around in a circle to get a look at it. "It's mine. I don't think it was addressed to the three little gits in Warren's basement."
"Who'd be writing to YOU?" Warren asked, still keeping his deadly stare fixed on Spike. It was then that he looked on the back of the envelope to try and determine who had sent it and from where. Spike didn't see what was written on the back but he knew it must have been something bad because Warren had frozen to the spot where he stood. Jonathan and Andrew hurried over and each exchanged worried glances before all three of them stared at Spike.
"What?" he asked, his face displaying nothing but puzzlement.
Pushing Spike out of the way, Warren ran up the stairs of the basement and to his front door. Throwing it open, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever it was who'd delivered the letter, all he saw was a bat flying off into the distance. Normally he would have thought nothing of this...but it was nine o'clock in the morning.
For days this continued. Mysterious letters would arrive addressed to Spikey but before he could catch and read any of them, Warren would always seize them and rip them up into pieces. Spikey would often sit alone in his cupboard under the stairs and just wish to himself that he could have just one of those letters to read to himself. It was during one of those thinking sessions that he heard the sound of an electric drill. Hopping off his bed and opening the cupboard door just a fraction, he saw Warren drilling something to the front door. Andrew was stood next to him, asking what he was doing.
"This, my friend, is a letter-proof letterbox. We won't be getting any more letters from that place now that we have one of these."
"But...if it's a letter-proof letterbox...shouldn't it just be called a box?" Andrew asked, studying the metal plate, which Warren had drilled over their letterbox.
Ignoring the remark but eager to show off his work, Warren opened the door to show how not even the heaviest of parcels could penetrate his letterbox. Before this however, the most unusual sight greeted him. Hanging from every roof of every house in the street as well as on the television aerials was the biggest flock of bats both he or Andrew had ever seen. They were all just hanging there, watching the two of them as if in anticipation for something. It is doubtful though, that they were anticipating Warren ducking back inside and slamming the door shut behind him.
Back inside Warren's house, Spikey slowly closed the cupboard door again. He'd seen the bats, but knew that as a vampire he couldn't go outside and see them. Although he was surprised that they were out there in broad daylight.
Sunday arrived. The one day of the week where there was no post. This made Spikey feel even more miserable than he already did. As he passed around everyone's supper, he couldn't help but notice the smug look on Warren's face. "Spiteful git" Spikey muttered under his breath as he deliberately slopped a bit of butter down Warren's X-Men t-shirt.
"Great day, Sunday..." Warren started. Spikey rolled his eyes. It wasn't enough that he'd taken all his post away, now he was going to brag about it. "Why is that?" he asked. Jonathan shrugged. Andrew said nothing as he was too engulfed in the Star Trek triple bill shown on Sunday evenings.
'Because everyone's in church so there's only me left around to tell you what a bunch of stupid pricks you all are?' Spikey thought to himself but said something completely different. "Because there's no post on Sunday."
Before Warren could rise to the bait of agreeing with him and rubbing the fact in further, Spikey frowned and started to look around him. At first he thought he'd imagined it but the growing looks of shock on the others' faces told him that what was happening was very real. The house was shaking. Slowly at first then faster and faster until Jonathan hid behind the sofa and Andrew grabbed hold of Warren for support.
Then it happened.
Millions of letters poured out through the chimney like a fountain of envelopes. Spikey's eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet, grabbing every letter that he could possibly get his hands on. Soon after this, Warren also leaped to his feet and ripped every single envelope from Spikey's hands. "We're moving!" he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the rumblings of letters still flying in the air.
"We'll move far away from here where they'll never find us!"
