A BtVs / Angel / Harry Potter / Sopranos / Highlander crossover. Minor spoilers up to season 7 of Buffy. Set after Season 7 BtVS, after Season 4 Angel, after Harry Potter graduates, and nowhere in particular in Sopranos / Highlander continuity.

All characters belong to their respective creators / film companies / etc. and are used without permission. This story may only be distributed on a non-profit-making basis.

Work in Progress. If you like this story, check out my other stories on the Fanfiction Net, Twisting the Hellmouth, and Fonts of Wisdom websites.

I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it.

This chapter contains major spoilers for the final episodes of Buffy season 7 (about which I can only say WOW!) and Angel season 4.


Bring Me The Head Of Harry Potter

by Marcus L. Rowland

IV

"I know I said a couple of hours," Angel said half an hour later, "but I remembered that Wolfram and Hart always send a stretch limo if I make an appointment. Might as well take advantage, it'll be here about nine. Gunn and I can drop the rest of you off at UCLA, it's not far out of the way."

"That's the good news," said Gunn, "what's the bad."

"When I tried to speak to Lilah they put me through to Wesley. He's back in LA, looks like we'll have to go through him to get anything done."

"Damn.."

"Wesley?" asked Harry.

"Wesley Wyndham-Price. He used to work with us," said Angel, "he was with us when we took ownership of Wolfram and Hart. But he was in love with Lilah and decided that he wanted to break her contract, let her soul rest in peace. That counted as interference under the terms of the contract we'd signed, and he forfeited."

"What did he forfeit?"

"His share of the company, and his soul."

"So he's... what? A zombie?"

"No, he's still alive, just a totally ruthless administrator. He always did have talents in that direction, without a soul to slow him down he's risen fast in their organisation. I might have known he'd have a hand in this."

"Is there anything you can do about it?"

"Short of getting his soul back, and god knows we've tried, the only leverage we have is that they hurt Dawn when they attacked you. That isn't really as useful as it should be because they know she's an immortal, but part of the original deal was that we and our friends would not be harmed by any of their actions. Dawn counts as a friend, I already knew her when we signed the agreement. Unfortunately it doesn't apply to friends we've made since then, so I can't claim you as a friend to get you out from under."

"Tell them I'm traumatised and that they destroyed my favourite shirt."

"Traumatised is good. Did the shirt have sentimental value?"

"It was my Christmas present from Spike, I was really annoyed that they'd ruined it. He'll be annoyed too when he hears."

"That'll do. Wes knows what Spike is capable of, and he isn't bound by any contract."

"I was thinking that you could threaten him with Buffy and the other Slayers," said Dawn, "but maybe that isn't a good idea this time round. Best save that until we really need it."

"One of these years Wolfram and Hart will do something that gives the Slayers an excuse to take them down, and they know it. I won't have to threaten anything. Nobody's going to be quite that crude."

"What should we do?" asked Harry.

"Go to the conference," Willow said. "Enjoy yourselves. I've de-hexed your badge so you'll be able to wear it without wanting to go to the bar. It's a fake, but it's obviously good enough to get you in. Dawn can stay close without attracting much attention, and Kennedy can stay around but in the background. I've got to prepare the demonstrations for my talk at eleven, but I'll be keeping my mind's eye on you. I doubt that you'll be in much danger at the conference anyway, it's outside that you need to be careful."

"Sounds good to me," said Kennedy, "it's the sort of thing I'd be doing there anyway. You know I'm not one for the more technical side of magic."

"So what's my excuse for hanging with Harry?" asked Dawn. "Won't your friends wonder who I am?"

"Not really," said Harry. "This is going to sound awfully conceited... I'm famous, more often than not I have to shake off unwelcome attention, and sometimes it isn't entirely unwelcome. I doubt anyone would be too surprised to see me with an attractive girl."

"So I've gotta play groupie," said Dawn, looking anything but delighted. "That'll be fun..."

"Come on, Dawn," said Willow, "he's male, reasonably attractive, and alive. I'm sure you can put up with him for a day or two."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, Harry's okay... I'm just not good at playing the brainless bimbo."

"You could be writing a thesis," suggested Harry, "there's all sorts of people want information on Voldemort and me for academic papers."

"That works better. If I carry a notebook and tape recorder and pretend to be interviewing you it ought to be reasonably convincing."

"Tape recorder?" asked Willow. "Not exactly common in the wizarding community."

"I'm not messing around with a quill."

"Well, you'll need to explain the recorder."

"Easy, I'll pretend I'm a techno-pagan, I know enough about that to fake it in casual conversation. If you can put a few hex-marks on my recorder and loan me the stuff you inherited from Jenny that's all the disguise I'll need."

"That's brilliant," said Harry, "everyone's heard of techno-pagans but nobody in the wizarding world knows much about them. To be honest, most wizards think they're a bunch..."

"Jenny Calender was an extraordinary person," interrupted Angel, "and totally committed to her faith. Don't make fun of things you don't understand." He stalked out of the lobby.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset him," said Harry.

"Angel feels responsible for her death," said Willow.

"Oh."

"He's right, though, she was a remarkable woman. She initiated me into the Art, although I took a more traditional direction. Without her I'd almost certainly be dead by now, and the Hellmouth would probably still be open."

"What happened to her?"

"That's not my story to tell. Or yours, Dawnie. Apologise to Angel tonight, Harry, maybe he'll explain."

"Right."

* * * * *

Dawn walked across the enchanted section of the UCLA campus, amazed at the changes a little magic had produced. To anyone without a legitimate pass, or a magical fake as good as Harry's, the area was a dirty construction site, dangerous and heavily fenced; to those with a pass it was a wonderland of light and colour, littered with booths for wizarding supplies and organisations, with apparently small tents containing huge auditoriums and luxurious dormitories.

"I'm beginning to wish I'd been along for the first three days," she said. "Willow invited me but I thought it'd be a typical academic conference, this is more like a Renaissance fair."

A broomstick buzzed low overhead, enchanted to stay inside the area. "That's the new Firebolt XL5," said Harry critically, "Fast but I'm not sure about stability. I'd hate to have to control one and fend off a couple of bludgers simultaneously."

So far Dawn hadn't attracted much attention. About half the people at the conference wore muggle clothing, she'd added a mesh cap made of intricately braided transistors, a belt of silicon wafers laced with lengths of optical fibres, and for a pendant an old 80286 processor on a silver chain. Smaller chips worn as earrings and a kohl drawing of the symbol for an AND circuit on her forehead completed the ensemble. Most people that came near them seemed more interested in Harry anyway.

"So you're a student here normally?" asked Harry.

"That's right. Comparative religion, ancient languages, and art."

"No magic?"

"Not formal training, although I've worked with Willow occasionally. Apart from that I'm on the fencing and martial arts squads, and I'm Watchers Council liason for the Slayers that study here, go patrolling with them occasionally. Fortunately they're both on vacation right now."

"How do you find time to sleep?"

"I can get by on three or four hours a night, like my sister. I think it's in the blood."

"Must be."

"Hey, weapons! Mind if I stop to take a look, might be something nice here for Angel's birthday."

They paused at a display of swords and other medieval weapons, run by a jovial Japanese wizard in a silk robe. He watched anxously as she picked up a sword, weighed its balance in her hands, and rejected it. "All of these weapons are perhaps a little heavy for a lady of your size," he eventually said, after she'd tried several swords.

"I can handle a little weight, but I'm after something for a friend. Something like a longsword with a sharkskin grip, silver inlay, centre of balance about here. A real working weapon, not an antique or something for the tourist trade. Oh, and non-magical."

"Non-magical? Mmm... not something I'm often asked for in the community. Try this, then. Solingen blade, genuine muggle manufacture, sharkskin grip with a compartment in the hilt for balance weights. Leather case, leather scabbard with sharpening tool, and cleaning kit. The price is a hundred and eighty galleons."

Dawn lifted it easily and tried a few practice positions. The vendor relaxed as he realised that she knew what she was doing. "Okay... it's a little heavy for me, but it'd certainly be right for my friend. If I remember the exchange rate that's what... about eight hundred and fifty dollars?"

"Eight-sixty-four and change."

"Okay... can you deliver it for me in LA?"

"Sure, we're based in Hollywood. Do a lot of business with film companies."

"That's handy. Take Mastercard?"

"No problem, but I won't be able to process the transaction until I go off-site this evening so it won't go out until tomorrow."

"Not a problem. Here's the address, attention of Dawn Summers. Don't mark the box as a sword, it's a present for someone who might see it delivered. Oh, and put in a catalogue if you have one."

"Do you have some other form of identification?"

"Perhaps this."

He inspected a blank card she pulled from her wallet, looking puzzled. The scythe insignia of the new Watchers Council appeared when she touched it, and he bowed deeply. "The weapon is for a Slayer? You are perhaps a Slayer yourself?"

"No to both. It's for someone who works with us."

"We'll call it eight hundred even then."

"I can't accept that."

"If it were for a Slayer the price would be seven-fifty. I'm still making a profit."

"That's very generous. Okay, thanks." He ran her Mastercard through a manual machine, wrote in the details, and got her signature. "It's a little heavy to owl, so we'll FedEx it to you tomorrow."

"Not getting something for yourself?" asked Harry as they moved on.

"No, he didn't have anything there I could easily conceal under street clothes. Anything bigger than that I usually borrow from Angel or Buffy if I need it."

"Nice to have friends that share your hobbies. Wasn't that a little expensive though?"

"It's cheap for a sword of that quality. With the money that comes in from Wolfram and Hart Angel can afford to pay well, I got a nice bonus for the last case, and as near as we can figure it he'll be two hundred and eighty in a couple of weeks. I think that calls for a good present. I expect that everyone else has had the same idea but they'll be shopping for antiques, a really good modern weapon should make a nice change. By the way, is there somewhere here I can change some money? I've seen a couple of things I'd like, but I have a feeling that most people here won't want to take dollars or a credit card for a small purchase."

"Most people won't know what a credit card is, let alone take one. Same for dollars. You were lucky with the sword. Gringrotts Bank has a tent, they ought to be able to help."

"Okay... let's see now, if I change a hundred dollars that's about twenty-one Galleons, will that be enough for a few small presents?"

"Gringrotts will probably give you twenty and small change. They're goblins, not exactly generous. It's enough for a few small presents and a couple of meals."

"Okay, I'll make it two hundred, might as well live it up while I've got the money to spend. Where's the tent?"

"Just along here past the magical supplies booths. We've just got time for a little more shopping before Willow's talk."

* * * * *

"Wesley, as always a pleasure," Angel said insincerely as Wesley invited them into his corner office. Angel tensed as he saw the sunlit room, even though he knew that that the necro-tempered glass would protect him.

"Angel. Gunn. Do come in. Coffee? Blood?"

"Thanks," said Gunn, "but we've both just had breakfast."

"A late start?"

"Yes," said Angel, "We all had a late night, what with people killing our friends."

"Oh dear. Which friend might that have been?"

"I'm sure that you'll remember Dawn. Lovely girl, has a very strong sister."

"Dawn Summers?" Angel nodded. "Then I would assume that no real harm was done."

"Apart from the traumatic stress of the incident, and destruction of a treasured possession. Given to her by someone who holds grudges and didn't sign any contracts with you."

"Oh dear. Buffy or one of her friends? Giles?"

"Spike. But don't worry, Willow saw her a few minutes after the attack, so I'd imagine she's not too happy either."

"Yes, that does sound unfortunate. I do hope that somebody brings the perpetrators to book."

"Actually, Wes, we were hoping you could help us with that," said Gunn, "seeing as how the sources we've talked to say that Lilah tipped off the killer."

"Really?" For a moment he seemed surprised, or feigned it well. "She actually told someone to attack Dawn? That seems very unlikely."

"Not exactly," said Angel. "There was another target, Dawn was in the line of fire."

"Ah. Who might that have been?"

"Wizard called Harry Potter, maybe you know him?"

"I've never had the pleasure, but I do know the name, of course. Interesting." He reached for the phone and said "Miss Jones, please ask Lilah to come up for a moment... Yes, Lilah Morgan." He hung up, and said "While we're waiting, what exactly was it that Miss Summers lost last night?"

"Her last Christmas present from Spike. Not hugely expensive, but of great sentimental value."

"Always hard to assess, sentimental value. As to traumatic stress..."

"Maybe we should experiment by shooting you three times and see how you like it," suggested Gunn.

"I don't think that will be necessary. I have had the misfortune to be shot before."

"And of course if young Potter is hurt I'd imagine she'll be feeling even more traumatised," said Angel. "They do seem to be very close."

"I see. That does put a different complexion on things."

There was a knock at the door, and Lilah came in. An attractive woman who walked with hesitant steps, with traces of blood at her waist and a scarf around her neck. "Angel, Gunn, nice to see you."

"Lilah," said Angel. Gunn nodded.

"Lilah," said Wesley, "perhaps you could tell us what you were doing last night."

"I spent the evening at Caritas, drowning my sorrows."

"Do you feel sorrows?" asked Angel.

"Not really."

"Kinda pointless then, wasn't it?"

"Oh, I kept myself amused."

"Did you happen to notice that one of the other customers was Harry Potter?"

"Odd you should say that.. yes, I did happen to spot him."

"Lilah," said Wesley, "did you by any chance happen to call anyone when Mister Potter left the bar?"

"Of course, Wesley. I called the office as instructed."

"And did you happen to notice that he left just after Dawn Summers?"

"That's right. I think he wanted to catch up with her."

"I see. You didn't feel that it was necessary to inform us of this?"

"I wasn't asked to."

"I see. Lilah, perhaps you'd better go downstairs again."

"Of course, Wesley, your wish and so forth..."

She left. Wesley sighed and said "So difficult to get the staff these days, and we do have sentimental reasons to keep her on, but..."

"Wesley," said Angel, "I'm as patient as someone with my nature can be, but I think you've just proved my point."

"Yeah, Wes," said Gunn. "that was kinda careless, wasn't it."

"Indeed. Well, perhaps ten thousand dollars will be adequate compensation for Dawn's traumatic experience."

"And the sentimental loss?" asked Angel.

"Another five?"

"Why not make it a round twenty? The poor girl has college fees to pay."

"Very well. I'll have accounts draw up a cheque for you to collect when you leave. An unconditional ex gratia payment. That concludes our business, I think."

"Not really. Under section 3.57 of our contract I think that this can be considered as attempted harm of an existing associate of the party of the first part."

"Hmm... An interesting point."

"Now I'm not going to be unreasonable about this unless I have to be, since I'm aware that this might be considered an accidental infringement. Any further infringement will not be considered in the least bit accidental, and I think that it's highly likely that you'll have to go through Dawn to get at Potter."

"I see."

"Word is," said Gunn, "That there's a hit-man from one of the East Coast mobs in town. Not your usual class of client, I'd guess."

"Not our clients at all, Charles, although it does seem possible that one of our clients might have asked us to contact him."

"And which client might that be?" asked Angel.

"You know perfectly well that I can't answer that."

"Wesley..." Angel said warningly.

"However, I don't feel that it's necessarily a breach of our clients's confidentiality to tell you that Lilah's message was passed on to a cellphone belonging to a Furio Giunta of New Jersey. I'm sure that your contacts will be able to tell you more."

"Okay. I think we're done now. As a stockholder in this company I hope that you won't feel it necessary to tell your clients about this unfortunate lapse in judgement."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Do give my regards to Dawn and Willow. And Fred, of course."

"Sure, Wes," said Gunn, "take care of yourself."

"Naturally."

* * * * *

"That was amazing," said Harry enthusiastically, "the bag of knives trick alone is..."

"Lethally dangerous," said Dawn. "She learned it fighting a hell-god. Most wizards don't need that sort of mastery, at least I hope they don't. It nearly destroyed the world, remember?"

"I know, but.."

"Willow's extraordinary, I know, but you have to see past that to how much it's cost her. I think that most of the people in the audience got that, did you?"

"Yes... it's just that she has the sort of power and control most wizards only dream of. Even knowing that what she went through to get it..."

"Did you think that Willow was trying to encourage anyone to follow in her footsteps? That talk was a warning about the price of power, you idiot!"

"Let's get something to eat," said Harry, hastily changing the subject.

"Think about it. Okay, that's me done preaching. What sort of food have they got?"

"Anything you like, really. The refreshment tents are this way."

"Wait a second," said Dawn a minute later, looking worried. "Harry, I can sense another immortal here. I hope it isn't someone who'll want to challenge me, but if it is you mustn't get involved. Stay back whatever happens, if I'm defeated get to Willow or Kennedy fast."

She looked round, eventually locking eyes with an elderly bald wizard, standing at the entrance to one of the refreshment tents, who walked towards them. "Him, the old guy."

"Him? Are you sure he's..."

"Definite."

"But that's.."

"Shush. Leave the talking to me."

"Good morning," said the wizard. "Nice to meet you again, Mister Potter. Congratulations on your victory. If you would excuse us for a moment, I need a word with this young lady."

"It's okay," said Dawn, "you don't have to pretend. He knows what I am."

"And that would be..?"

"I am Dawn Summers, daughter of Joyce and sister of the Slayer. I am immortal and I cannot die."

He nodded gravely. "Ollivander of Tuscany, lately of Diagon Alley, likewise immortal. A pleasure to meet you."

TBC