Title: A Kind of Magick

Author: DhampyrX2

Genre: X-over w/ Harry Potter

Series: none...yet

Rating: PG-13, just to be safe

Summary: Xander accompanied Giles and Willow to England to make sure she settled in well with the Devon coven after her Darth Willow episode, and has a chance to check in with some of his lesser discussed relations.

Timeframe: Between seasons 6 & 7.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Don't sue me, I'm poor.

"Are you certain this is acceptable?" Tonks inquired fretfully as she and Xander looked over the room that was to be his for a time at the Hog's Head inn of Hogsmeade.

The carpenter shrugged and smiled as he replied, "It's a step up from the basement my folks had me living in after I came back from my failed road trip after graduation."

"And after hearing about that wet and drafty hellhole from you, I never had a greater urge to hex my Aunt and Uncle into learning better manners," Tonks added with a frown.

"Ah relax, 'Dora. It's clean, it's not bugged magickally from what your check said, it's got a bed and a desk, and it's in stumbling distance of food and drink from the tavern downstairs. I've dealt with worse. Hell with that Initiative fiasco, I had Buffy, Willow, Ahn, and G-man living in my basement with me for a time. This is not of the big," he assured her with a half-smile.

"Well, if you're certain..." Nymphadora fretted nervously. She knew intellectually he was a good choice to check in on and possibly protect Draco. She just didn't want to leave Xander flapping in the proverbial wind here.

"I know you have actual work, both for the Ministry and for Bumblebee-man himself that needs doing. You don't have to baby-sit me, Sprite. I grew up on a Hellmouth, remember?" Xander replied with a wink.

"That's what worries me," Tonks responded flatly. "Someone might sneak up on you or try to push you around and end up getting in touch with a stake to the heart, or your 'inner-hyena streak' as you call it when you kick the stuffing out of some poor sap."

"You worry way too much," Xander dismissed. "Besides, this is a strictly incognito recon for our esteemed aunt, not a fight brewing. I'll be so quiet nobody will ever see me."

"From my experience, it's the ones you don't see coming you should worry about. Weren't you the one that told me that?" Tonks replied archly, but with a hint of a grin fighting through her countenance.

"Maybe," Xander replied with an exaggerated look left and right as if he were in a bad spy movie.

Tonks couldn't hold it in any longer as she let out a laugh and said, "Just be careful you arse. I don't want to have to worry about you any more than usual," she said as she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek."

"I'll be as careful as I ever am," Xander assured her.

"Now I'm past worried and have gone right to scared," Tonks commented with a smile.

"Then my work here is done," Xander affirmed happily.

Once his cousin was well and gone on her way, it took Alexander Harris all of thirty-seven seconds to assemble his Glock, a time that pissed him off as it was nine seconds slower than his post-possession best. Once his semi-automatic pistol was assembled, he changed out the load for one clip from the tracer rounds he used against vampires for more traditional, but equally lethal, hollow-point rounds.

After the gun was assembled, holstered, and tucked under his robes, he went about situating a few other surprises, including stakes, a few grenades, a Marine Corps style K-bar knife at his left ankle, and a few bottles of holy water. He idly thought of trying to strap his battle-axe to his back under his robes, but figured that that might be pushing it, even for him.

Once his potentially best defense against attack (mainly in the form of a potentially lethal offense), he decided to head to the tavern for a drink and to listen to the various conversations. From what Tonks had told him of the Hog's Head, it was the 'seedy underbelly' of the tiny community of Hogsmeade, and was run by Albus Dumbledore's brother Aberforth. Xander doubted he'd pick up any real information about anything like the Death Eaters in a place knowingly run by the brother of Voldermort's worst enemy, but it still didn't hurt to get a finger on the pulse of the area.

He was almost out the door when he remembered the one piece of his 'disguise' he knew better than to leave, but really wanted to do without. Xander scowled angrily at his wand where it rested innocently on his bed. I swear I'll turn the damned thing into kindling, or let Giles and Willow experiment on it, or /something/ after this is all taken care of, he thought nastily to himself as he picked up the stick and tucked it into the special pocket sewn into wizard robe sleeves that very purpose.

Fifteen minutes into his attempt to ascertain the feel of the atmosphere at the Hog's Head tavern did little more for Xander beyond give him an unfathomable hatred for the scent of old goat, and a desire to learn some method to turn off his sense of smell on command.

"All this wizard power in this town and they can't cast a charm to get that smell out of here? Willow learned to make her stuff smell good and still work within a year," Xander grumbled under his breath.

Any further attention Xander could have paid to the level of his disgust was cut off as another typically hooded figure entered the tavern. As with most of the people here, the new arrival had a cloak pulled up to create an impression of a room full of Star Wars geeks playing Emperor Palpatine. This one had a few major differences that set him apart from the riff-raff, though.

First off, he didn't move in a way that called attention to him. Most of the wizards in the tavern didn't want to be overheard or seen, and were so painfully obvious in catering to that desire that they stood out like sore thumbs. The newest arrival dressed in black robes and a black cape, however, simply blended in to the background of the room, effortlessly passing by the attentions of most of the clientele.

Another factor was something nobody but a seasoned demon hunter could pick up, or perhaps it was Xander's exposure to Giles and Ethan Rayne that made it so obvious. It was nothing you could put a head on, but this man was a dark mage in his own right. The way he moved reminded Xander of Giles and his toned down and minimal movements as he tried to train out the swagger and arrogance of his younger days as 'Ripper'.

All in all, it was fairly easy to determine who the newcomer was even before he came and joined Xander at his table. "Potions Master Severus Snape," Xander declared confidently in a voice low enough to not be overheard by even the most ardent of eavesdropper.

"Mr. Harris," Snape replied in similar tones. "You seem less than surprised to see me," he added conversationally, his tone betraying nothing.

Xander inclined his head a bit as he replied, "I doubted your boss would have time to come here directly after finally getting that woman the Ministry forced on him out of his seat as Headmaster. Besides, you're the only one he could send here with any chance at using discretion." After a pause he added, "You're also the only one I might leave here with."

If either statement shocked Snape he didn't show it as he sarcastically raised his eyebrow and sneered, "And to what do I owe such an honor?"

Xander seemed unaffected by the obvious attempt to intimidate and upset him as he shrugged and replied, "You're Draco's godfather. That means his mother puts a great deal of trust in you. More importantly, you're one of the few...very few actually, people Aunt 'Cissa would call a friend and actually mean it. That says a lot. She actually speaks highly of you. In private, of course."

"Of course," Snape agreed evenly. Privately, his estimation of Xander and his threat potential was growing by leaps and bounds. If he didn't know as much as he did about the young man before him, and his accomplishments, he would have thought Xander a guileless do-gooder that was far too trusting for his own good. The emotional masks the child of Jessica Black created were matched only by the ones his Aunt Narcissa employed for herself. "She speaks well of you, also. In private," Snape returned evenly after a pause.

Xander chuckled mirthlessly as he replied, "I doubt that. Even if she did trust you completely, she'd never expose herself to the degree of speaking highly of me considering my family situation. She's not as dumb as her husband looks."

Severus snorted in agreement as he fought off a nasty little grin of his own. If nothing else, it was clear he and this untrained young wizard before him shared an equal estimation of Lucius Malfoy's faults. "He has his uses. One often needs a big rock to cast the best shadows to do one's work in," Snape jibed easily.

"Calling Uncle Luke a rock is by far the kindest thing I could think of after some of the crap I've heard from Puff that he repeated word for word from that jackass," Xander confided with a roll of his eyes. "So I take it you're here to either brief me, or sneak me in to the dungeons?" he finally asked.

"How ever did you guess?" Snape snidely inquired.

"I'm a master of stating the obvious," Xander shot back in a deadpan.

Snape looked a bit confused at someone returning one of his remarks so easily and seemingly unaffected, before he regained his composure and replied, "You certainly are related to Bella and Cissa. They're the only other ones ever willing to match tongues with me," Snape admitted with a tinge of respect.

"I'll do us both a favor and assume you meant with quips instead of just running off declaring how I don't swing that way," Xander intoned in a voice as cuttingly sarcastic as Snape's own.

For the first time in years outside of time spent near Narcissa away from Death Eater business Severus Snape, the dour 'greasy git' of Hogwarts, had to hold back a genuine chuckle as he replied, "You do that." His demeanor was washed clean of the carefully concealed mirth as he got down to the important details. "Obviously, with only weeks left in the term, you can't pose as a teacher or staff member of any kind," he began.

"At least not in a huge public sense," Xander interjected easily. At the annoyed/curious look on Snape's face, he elaborated, "If a few students here and there see me around campus, I can just say I'm a temp aid to your grounds keepers/handymen. That there was no need to announce me because I'll be working mostly during the break when they're gone, and I started my job so late. It will explain my presence enough to any kids outside of my cousin, and maybe your current golden boy and any running buddies he has. As for them, one will keep quiet for obvious reasons, and I'll tell the others to mind their own damned business if they bug me."

"That's never stopped Potter and his little groupies before," Snape warned him.

Xander's grin was chilling as he replied, "I can be very persuasive."

"If you actually succeed, I may ask for tips on doing the same," Snape shot back with a similar grin.

The trip to Hogwarts castle proper was fairly uneventful, as Snape led Xander as far as a small courtyard outside of the school where he could observe the comings and goings of the students easily without being spotted himself before the Potions Master made his goodbyes to head back to his office to deal any questions from his current scores of pathetic dunderheads, aka any students not in Slytherin.

Xander stood there for a good while, carefully observing the young witches and wizards ranging from eleven to eighteen as they milled past. Even if they did not all proudly wear their individual house colors everywhere, it would have been easy to pick out where each kid went just from their bearings. Still, cataloging who looked to go where gave him something to do as he waited for whoever would inevitably show up to escort him through the campus so that he'd know where to find things.

Such mundane concerns went on the back burner as he saw his primary objective walk out of the main gate and head toward the Quidditch arena area with two young, well thugs was the politest thing he could think of to describe the boys, Crabbe and Goyle if his memory of Aunt Cissa's descriptions was accurate. They were the perfect proverbial muscle, which was strange when one considered that wizards put little stock, and had even less need, in the use of non-magickal physical violence. It seemed kind of silly Puff would have what amounted to a pair of, as an old Simpsons episode would have called them, 'hired goons' as his posse.

It was child's play to follow the Slytherin trio as they headed off toward Draco's Quidditch practice. Only Puff seemed to even glance around with any kind of concern, and it was clear even he felt far too safe and at ease here. Aunt Cissa would have pitched a fit at seeing her son drop his guard like that in a place with known rivals and unknown dangers as a normal part of every year. It was also clear Draco's toadies were only playing guard dogs for him as they left once he was safely in the arena and heading toward his locker. Obviously the pair lacked the quick wits needed for the favorite wizard sport.

With all the skill of a man used to things much stronger and faster than him trying to eat him if he was discovered, Xander snuck into the stands to watch the practice unobserved while Draco got into whatever gear he needed and headed out on his broom. The professional carpenter had to admit he was impressed with his cousin's reaction times and agility, even if it was being displayed on something as silly as riding a broomstick. Draco played the game like a man possessed, something Xander had personal experience in, as he shot back and forth through the sky at breakneck speeds to retrieve small balls his other teammates were tossing randomly to improve his hand-eye coordination.

Halfway through the practice, Xander snuck back out of the arena to where Snape had left him. He needed to map out a plan to observe Puff in several settings before he could gauge how to approach an actual conversation with his cousin. He was back in his spot for all of two minutes when a polite young voice cleared her throat from behind him.

"Mr. Harris?" the voice tentatively inquired.

"Yes?" Xander asked in confusion as he turned to see a young girl of sixteen or so, wearing Gryffindor red and gold on her neckpiece. The young woman had frizzy light brown hair, and gave off an impression that immediately reminded him of Willow at that age.

"Oh, good," the young woman exclaimed. "I'm Hermione Granger. Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to give you a tour of Hogwarts and explain some of our history here for your report?"

"What?" Xander asked, genuinely surprised. What the hell had that crazy old fool set him up for?

"I'm your guide to aid you with your report for the Watcher's Council archives. The Headmaster asked me to give you the introductory tour of the grounds and castle proper. I realize you most likely expected a professor, but well with the staff preparing for finals, and my current good standing in most of my classes, I was asked to fill in today. I hope that's all right," the mini-Willow explained.

Xander shrugged off any residual shock with casual ease as he fell into the cover story Bumblebee-man had left for him. "Right. Sorry about that, I just didn't expect /any/ student to be overly aware of my being here. I kind of wanted an un-prepped view of the campus and the student body, not a case of everyone putting on airs for me," he replied.

Hermione looked scandalized at the thought of ruining his 'report' as he explained, "I'm the only student to be informed so far, I assure you. We would never want to risk skewing a historical archive for such a historied and respected organization. I promise everything you see here will be the truth as it actually happens."

Xander smiled warmly at the girl's academic enthusiasm, and the memories it invoked within him, as he nodded reassuringly at her and replied, "Then please lead the way, Miss Granger. I look forward to your tour."

END PART 6