Title: Black As Midnight
Author: eena_angel2001
Email: igrewal@sfu.ca or eena_angel@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Category: HP/BTVS/ATS
Pairing: Willow/Oliver Wood, Dawn/Draco, others undetermined.
Disclaimer: Rowlings owns HP. Whedon owns BTVS.
Spoilers: Up to Season Seven for BTVS, but before Willow comes back. GOF for HP.
Summary: A new evil rises, transcending the line between Muggle and Wizarding Worlds, and forcing our heroes to join if they wish to survive.
Notes: This is an AU Season Seven fic.
1) Willow did not kill Warren, though Tara did die and she did go to England with Giles. Warren is dead for this fic, but I'm still working out how.
2) Fred and Gunn never dated in this fic.
Part One
***London, England***
**Watcher's Council, Downtown**
"What do you mean you can't reach Allen?"
Rupert Giles gripped the edge of his desk tightly, closing his eyes and counting to ten in order to stop himself from tearing into the person on the phone.
"That's three Watchers you've been unable to locate," he finally managed to ground out through clenched teeth. "I mean, how hard is it to find our own people damnit!"
He took a deep breath, listening to the person on the phone.
"I do apologize," he mumbled after a bit. Giles took off his glasses, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he continued his conversation. He had no business yelling at the blameless young Watcher on the line, but he could not help himself. Giles felt like he was near his breaking point, but still, he had to keep it together.
"I know it is not your fault . . . yes I understand . . . I do apologize for my outburst . . . But you need to find them . . . send people to their homes . . . I don't care, but send a few . . . Make sure they are heavily armed . . . I don't know what's going on . . . I know . . . thank you . . . goodbye."
He hung up his phone, leaning against his desk with his head in his hands. He honestly didn't know when all this started, how such a crisis crept up on the Council without them knowing it. As it was, three Watchers unaccounted for and not a word to be heard of their
charges. And to make matters worse, Quentin Travers had not been heard from since early yesterday afternoon. He had been on vacation in Germany and they were now unable to reach the Head of the Council.
This was not good.
"Miss! You can't go in there! Miss!"
"Giles! I need to talk to you!"
His head snapped up, listening to the shouts coming from outside his closed office door. One of those voices sounded a lot like Willow, something he thought impossible. The redhead had not left his house since he brought her there at the beginning of summer.
He wrenched his door open, finding that the redhead was there, and involved in a little bit of a struggle with his secretary.
"Mary, it's quite all right," he was quick to order. The two ladies stilled, Willow sending him a relieved look. Giles was shocked at the sight of the redhead. She must have come here on her own. She hadn't even left her room without much prodding from him. And he swore he saw something in those eyes he hadn't seen in a while. A spark, just like the Old Willow used to have. A fiercely determined spark that was likely to explode all over Mary unless she released the redhead immediately.
"She just came barging in here-" Mary shrilled, releasing Willow with a glare. "Shouting up a storm! Tried to push her way in-"
"I have to talk to you Giles," Willow interrupted, stepping up close to the man. "Now. We're in deep shit now."
He understood her immediately, taking her by the elbow and steering her into his office.
"Mary, hold my calls," he ordered over his shoulder. "And if Trevor phones back with any information, call James and Dodds to my office immediately."
"Yessir," the woman agreed, shooting Willow another disapproving look before shuffling back to her desk. Giles followed Willow into his office, shutting the door behind them. He turned back to her, still marveling over the awareness he saw in her eyes.
"Willow," he shook his head. "What happened?"
The redhead shrugged, giving him a sad half smile that turned out like a painful grimace.
"I know I've been off for the past few months," she sighed. Giles nodded. She hadn't been 'off' so much as not there at all. But that wasn't the point right now.
"Giles, something is rising," she whispered suddenly, face drawn tight with tension. "I don't know what it is, but it's here and it's getting bigger as the days tick by."
"Willow, did you have some sort of vision?" he approached cautiously. She shook her head.
"I've been feeling it for awhile," she confessed to him. "I can almost see it in the air sometimes. It's like this smog thing, getting larger and trying to choke the life out of everything. It hasn't done much yet, but it's raring to Giles. It's planning something very big."
"How-"
"Tara told me," she answered simply, raising a resigned face to him. "Don't say it, I know that look. I'm not crazy Giles. I almost wish I was, but I'm not. She told me it's already here, and I believe her Giles. Whatever it is, it's already here. And it's coming."
"Coming for what Willow?" he demanded. She only shook her head.
"Not what Giles," she murmured, eyes getting a haunted look. "Not what. Who."
"Who?"
She nodded, eyes going to his phone.
"Phone Buffy," she ordered lightly. "Call her now. She has something to tell you."
He gave the redhead a strange look, shrugging his shoulders and picking up his phone. He tried to quell the rising fear in his stomach as he punched in the Buffy's number.
Willow merely watched him, eerily calm in spite of what she had just told him. Giles swallowd hard, sighing in relief when the phone was finally answered.
"Buffy? It's Giles . . ."
*****
**4 Privet Drive**
Harry Potter grabbed at his forehead, wincing in obvious pain. The source of his pain was the jagged scar on his forehead, one that looked remarkably like a lightning bolt. A mark left on him by his parents' murderer.
A murderer who was now on the loose.
Harry swallowed the bit of rage he felt at that thought. Lord Voldemort had risen once more, and the Ministry of Magic sat back and did nothing. Well, Minister Cornelius Fudge sat back and did nothing. The man was too afraid of the memory of Voldemort to deal with the prospect of his return. So, they all sat back and just waited for the first blow to come.
But it hadn't come. One whole summer, of relative peace. That the Wizarding world knew of anyhow. But Harry knew that Voldemort was up to something. The searing pain from his scar was proof enough for that.
The Boy-Who-Lived scowled, gathering all his supplies into his trunk. He was going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until September 1st, no longer able to stand the Dursely home. There had been some fallout with Dudley and Aunt Petunia and the continuing diet. Dudley
had been cheating and subsequently been caught. The ensuing battle had been murder on his eardrums. And he was getting out now.
He had called for a taxi on his own, expecting it to arrive any second. He lugged his trunk downstairs, muttering a barely audible goodbye over his shoulder. He heard some curses come from his uncle, but largely ignored them. He was out the door just in time to see
the taxi pull up. He threw his luggage inside, mindful to be careful of Hedwig, and called for the taxi to pull away.
His head still throbbed, but his heart was comforted knowing he was one step closer to being back at Hogwarts. Back at home.
*****
***Los Angeles, USA***
"Fred?"
The brunette stopped at the sound of her name, turning to see who had called her. The voice was faint, barely a whisper. She knew it woudln't be Gunn, whom she had sent to get breakfast earlier. The man had been happy to comply, seeing as she hadn't been eating all that much recently. So, she knew it wouldn't be him.
She was startled to find Angel was the one calling her. He shouldn't have been up at this hour. It was still early morning and the vampire had only been recovered last night.
"You should be resting," she scolded him. "Come on, upstairs."
He waved off her attempts to pull him back upstairs. Instead, he steered both of them to the couches in the lobby, taking a seat rather tiredly. He seemed winded, face paler than usual, but still determined as he faced his friend.
"I know something is bothering you," he finally managed. "Gunn has mentioned something about you being distracted all summer. And not distracted as in worried for me and Cordy, but a different distracted. What's up Fred?"
She shook her head, laughing listlessly.
"Nothing," she lied. "It's nothing."
"You're lying," he tossed back lightly. "Now, how about the truth?"
She managed a small smile for the vampire, one that faded fast from her features. Her eyes took on a scared look, a frown marred her brow, and her fingers went up to twist in her hair as she thought about what to tell him.
"I don't know what it is," she finally admitted. "But something very wrong is happening. Something very wrong is here, and I can feel it."
"Feel it?" Angel repeated, a frown coming to his own face.
"I sometimes stand on the grass," she explained. "And then out of nowhere, I see everything withering and dying. Just for a second, and then it's gone. But I remember it, can still feel it. It's like this blackness descending on the earth, but I don't know what it is.
I just feel that it's there."
"How often do you get these sights?" Angel asked, voice becoming more concerned as she continued. Fred shrugged.
"They started about the same time you disappeared," she admitted. "And they just happen out of nowhere. But the feeling, it never leaves Angel. It makes me think of morbid things, like death and blood. Just this morning, I was looking at the sunrise and for the life of me, I thought it was bleeding. Something very bad is coming and it won't stop."
There was a tense silence, Fred wringing her hands as her friend said nothing.
"Or I could be losing my mind," she quipped with a empty laugh, but feeling like it could be a possibility. Angel was quick to grab her hand, squeezing her hand.
"You're not crazy," he assured her. "When I was down there, I had a lot of time to reflect too. I think I understand what you're saying, but I don't feel it like you do."
"What are we going to do then?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
Angel gave her hand one more squeeze before rising and heading for the phone.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice nervous. He gave her a reassuring smile as he dialled.
"I'm calling some friends," he answered soothingly. "I think it's time we all compared notes."
*****
Author: eena_angel2001
Email: igrewal@sfu.ca or eena_angel@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Category: HP/BTVS/ATS
Pairing: Willow/Oliver Wood, Dawn/Draco, others undetermined.
Disclaimer: Rowlings owns HP. Whedon owns BTVS.
Spoilers: Up to Season Seven for BTVS, but before Willow comes back. GOF for HP.
Summary: A new evil rises, transcending the line between Muggle and Wizarding Worlds, and forcing our heroes to join if they wish to survive.
Notes: This is an AU Season Seven fic.
1) Willow did not kill Warren, though Tara did die and she did go to England with Giles. Warren is dead for this fic, but I'm still working out how.
2) Fred and Gunn never dated in this fic.
Part One
***London, England***
**Watcher's Council, Downtown**
"What do you mean you can't reach Allen?"
Rupert Giles gripped the edge of his desk tightly, closing his eyes and counting to ten in order to stop himself from tearing into the person on the phone.
"That's three Watchers you've been unable to locate," he finally managed to ground out through clenched teeth. "I mean, how hard is it to find our own people damnit!"
He took a deep breath, listening to the person on the phone.
"I do apologize," he mumbled after a bit. Giles took off his glasses, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he continued his conversation. He had no business yelling at the blameless young Watcher on the line, but he could not help himself. Giles felt like he was near his breaking point, but still, he had to keep it together.
"I know it is not your fault . . . yes I understand . . . I do apologize for my outburst . . . But you need to find them . . . send people to their homes . . . I don't care, but send a few . . . Make sure they are heavily armed . . . I don't know what's going on . . . I know . . . thank you . . . goodbye."
He hung up his phone, leaning against his desk with his head in his hands. He honestly didn't know when all this started, how such a crisis crept up on the Council without them knowing it. As it was, three Watchers unaccounted for and not a word to be heard of their
charges. And to make matters worse, Quentin Travers had not been heard from since early yesterday afternoon. He had been on vacation in Germany and they were now unable to reach the Head of the Council.
This was not good.
"Miss! You can't go in there! Miss!"
"Giles! I need to talk to you!"
His head snapped up, listening to the shouts coming from outside his closed office door. One of those voices sounded a lot like Willow, something he thought impossible. The redhead had not left his house since he brought her there at the beginning of summer.
He wrenched his door open, finding that the redhead was there, and involved in a little bit of a struggle with his secretary.
"Mary, it's quite all right," he was quick to order. The two ladies stilled, Willow sending him a relieved look. Giles was shocked at the sight of the redhead. She must have come here on her own. She hadn't even left her room without much prodding from him. And he swore he saw something in those eyes he hadn't seen in a while. A spark, just like the Old Willow used to have. A fiercely determined spark that was likely to explode all over Mary unless she released the redhead immediately.
"She just came barging in here-" Mary shrilled, releasing Willow with a glare. "Shouting up a storm! Tried to push her way in-"
"I have to talk to you Giles," Willow interrupted, stepping up close to the man. "Now. We're in deep shit now."
He understood her immediately, taking her by the elbow and steering her into his office.
"Mary, hold my calls," he ordered over his shoulder. "And if Trevor phones back with any information, call James and Dodds to my office immediately."
"Yessir," the woman agreed, shooting Willow another disapproving look before shuffling back to her desk. Giles followed Willow into his office, shutting the door behind them. He turned back to her, still marveling over the awareness he saw in her eyes.
"Willow," he shook his head. "What happened?"
The redhead shrugged, giving him a sad half smile that turned out like a painful grimace.
"I know I've been off for the past few months," she sighed. Giles nodded. She hadn't been 'off' so much as not there at all. But that wasn't the point right now.
"Giles, something is rising," she whispered suddenly, face drawn tight with tension. "I don't know what it is, but it's here and it's getting bigger as the days tick by."
"Willow, did you have some sort of vision?" he approached cautiously. She shook her head.
"I've been feeling it for awhile," she confessed to him. "I can almost see it in the air sometimes. It's like this smog thing, getting larger and trying to choke the life out of everything. It hasn't done much yet, but it's raring to Giles. It's planning something very big."
"How-"
"Tara told me," she answered simply, raising a resigned face to him. "Don't say it, I know that look. I'm not crazy Giles. I almost wish I was, but I'm not. She told me it's already here, and I believe her Giles. Whatever it is, it's already here. And it's coming."
"Coming for what Willow?" he demanded. She only shook her head.
"Not what Giles," she murmured, eyes getting a haunted look. "Not what. Who."
"Who?"
She nodded, eyes going to his phone.
"Phone Buffy," she ordered lightly. "Call her now. She has something to tell you."
He gave the redhead a strange look, shrugging his shoulders and picking up his phone. He tried to quell the rising fear in his stomach as he punched in the Buffy's number.
Willow merely watched him, eerily calm in spite of what she had just told him. Giles swallowd hard, sighing in relief when the phone was finally answered.
"Buffy? It's Giles . . ."
*****
**4 Privet Drive**
Harry Potter grabbed at his forehead, wincing in obvious pain. The source of his pain was the jagged scar on his forehead, one that looked remarkably like a lightning bolt. A mark left on him by his parents' murderer.
A murderer who was now on the loose.
Harry swallowed the bit of rage he felt at that thought. Lord Voldemort had risen once more, and the Ministry of Magic sat back and did nothing. Well, Minister Cornelius Fudge sat back and did nothing. The man was too afraid of the memory of Voldemort to deal with the prospect of his return. So, they all sat back and just waited for the first blow to come.
But it hadn't come. One whole summer, of relative peace. That the Wizarding world knew of anyhow. But Harry knew that Voldemort was up to something. The searing pain from his scar was proof enough for that.
The Boy-Who-Lived scowled, gathering all his supplies into his trunk. He was going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until September 1st, no longer able to stand the Dursely home. There had been some fallout with Dudley and Aunt Petunia and the continuing diet. Dudley
had been cheating and subsequently been caught. The ensuing battle had been murder on his eardrums. And he was getting out now.
He had called for a taxi on his own, expecting it to arrive any second. He lugged his trunk downstairs, muttering a barely audible goodbye over his shoulder. He heard some curses come from his uncle, but largely ignored them. He was out the door just in time to see
the taxi pull up. He threw his luggage inside, mindful to be careful of Hedwig, and called for the taxi to pull away.
His head still throbbed, but his heart was comforted knowing he was one step closer to being back at Hogwarts. Back at home.
*****
***Los Angeles, USA***
"Fred?"
The brunette stopped at the sound of her name, turning to see who had called her. The voice was faint, barely a whisper. She knew it woudln't be Gunn, whom she had sent to get breakfast earlier. The man had been happy to comply, seeing as she hadn't been eating all that much recently. So, she knew it wouldn't be him.
She was startled to find Angel was the one calling her. He shouldn't have been up at this hour. It was still early morning and the vampire had only been recovered last night.
"You should be resting," she scolded him. "Come on, upstairs."
He waved off her attempts to pull him back upstairs. Instead, he steered both of them to the couches in the lobby, taking a seat rather tiredly. He seemed winded, face paler than usual, but still determined as he faced his friend.
"I know something is bothering you," he finally managed. "Gunn has mentioned something about you being distracted all summer. And not distracted as in worried for me and Cordy, but a different distracted. What's up Fred?"
She shook her head, laughing listlessly.
"Nothing," she lied. "It's nothing."
"You're lying," he tossed back lightly. "Now, how about the truth?"
She managed a small smile for the vampire, one that faded fast from her features. Her eyes took on a scared look, a frown marred her brow, and her fingers went up to twist in her hair as she thought about what to tell him.
"I don't know what it is," she finally admitted. "But something very wrong is happening. Something very wrong is here, and I can feel it."
"Feel it?" Angel repeated, a frown coming to his own face.
"I sometimes stand on the grass," she explained. "And then out of nowhere, I see everything withering and dying. Just for a second, and then it's gone. But I remember it, can still feel it. It's like this blackness descending on the earth, but I don't know what it is.
I just feel that it's there."
"How often do you get these sights?" Angel asked, voice becoming more concerned as she continued. Fred shrugged.
"They started about the same time you disappeared," she admitted. "And they just happen out of nowhere. But the feeling, it never leaves Angel. It makes me think of morbid things, like death and blood. Just this morning, I was looking at the sunrise and for the life of me, I thought it was bleeding. Something very bad is coming and it won't stop."
There was a tense silence, Fred wringing her hands as her friend said nothing.
"Or I could be losing my mind," she quipped with a empty laugh, but feeling like it could be a possibility. Angel was quick to grab her hand, squeezing her hand.
"You're not crazy," he assured her. "When I was down there, I had a lot of time to reflect too. I think I understand what you're saying, but I don't feel it like you do."
"What are we going to do then?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
Angel gave her hand one more squeeze before rising and heading for the phone.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice nervous. He gave her a reassuring smile as he dialled.
"I'm calling some friends," he answered soothingly. "I think it's time we all compared notes."
*****