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Not So Much With the Heaven

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Summary: When Buffy dies she ends up at Hogwarts - in 1977. She gets close to Poppy Pomfrey & James Potter, but is plagued by dreams about Spike, Nikki Wood, & a boy with James' face and her green eyes. Will she make it home? Will she want to? Buffy/James

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Buffy-CenteredfireprettytreebadFR18712,36836212,8745 Nov 0618 Jan 09No

You Have A Destiny

Not So Much with the Heaven

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and anything associated with it doesn’t belong to me, but to Joss Whedon. All things Harry Potter are property of J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made (believe me!).

Warnings: AU, obviously. Also, even though I hate it when authors do this, the time line will be played with so that Buffy is only nineteen at the time of “The Gift.” Everything is the same, it just happened a year earlier. You’ll see why.

Summary: After Buffy “dies,” she goes not to Heaven, but to Hogwarts. . . in 1977.

The energy from the portal crackled around her, making her feel as if she was being stabbed all over by tiny straight pins. The light around her was blinding and she tried to close her eyes against its painful shine. She yearned for the blessed relief of impact with the ground, thinking for a brief moment that if she had known it was going to hurt this much, she would not have jumped.

Then suddenly the unbearable light was gone and through the deep dark of the night she could see the ground rushing up at her. She hit with a sickening crash and could feel cool rain beating down on her face. She felt the wrenching pain for only a moment and then, as the darkness closed over her head she had one last bizarre thought.

‘Don’t let the bedbugs bite.’

“It’s lucky they found her. Granted, Professor McGonagall will probably give them detention for a year for being in the forest, at night no less, but if they hadn’t. . . . Well, I don’t like to think what might have happened.”

Buffy heard, through a haze of pain, a soft, British voice whisper the words as warm hands tucked a woolly blanket around her. ‘Wait a minute,’ she thought confusedly. ‘Heaven is British? That just does not seem right.’

“Yes. The poor girl.” It was a different voice this time; this one was full of kindness, but with an edge of anger as well. “From the amount of bones broken, Voldemort- really, Poppy you’re a grown woman, and it’s just a name- Voldemort must have had her for a month at least. How long do think it will take her to heal?”

The first voice spoke again. “I really couldn’t say. I’m reluctant to give her potions. After she’s released she won’t heal as well with muggle medicines if I do. Still, I’m afraid the injuries are too extensive for her to heal without magic, and I can’t just let her die.”

Buffy struggled to open her eyes, shocked at the last words. ‘I’m not dead? Why am I not dead? Wait a minute, potions? And what’s a muggle?’

“Albus, she’s waking up! Oh, she shouldn’t be waking up yet. The pain will be too much for her. Oh, to hell with it!”

Buffy tried to protest as she felt strong arms encircle her shoulders and lift her slightly, sending waves of pain through her body. However all that came out was a grunt. Then, a disgusting taste filled her mouth as hands forced a bitter liquid down her throat. She sputtered weakly and tried again to protest, but before she could darkness crept across her vision and she slipped mercifully into sleep.

The Gryffindor common room was quiet. Outside the castle window the rain was pouring down, obscuring the early morning sun. The flames from the fire illuminated the room, casting eerie shadows on the four boys sitting in worn, overstuffed easy chairs. They all wore contemplative frowns on their faces, and a tense silence was wrapped around them.

“I can’t believe McGonagall gave us a month of detention,” Sirius finally burst out. “We bloody well saved that girl’s life! I’d bet a thousand Galleons every bone in her body was crushed. Not to mention, she practically reeked of dark magic. Voldemort really did a number on her. Oh, shut up, Peter. Dumbledore says it.”

“We were in the forest, Sirius. At night. It is against school rules.”

“Oh, piss off Moony. We were out there for you, remember?”

“Don’t snap at Remus, Sirius. He’s right.”

“What?! Prongs! We saved her life. Who cares if we were in the forest?”

“I don’t think that’s why she did it,” James said quietly.

“What? What are you talking about?” Sirius snapped. “Why else would she give us detention?”

“Did you see her face? McGonagall’s, I mean. When she saw the girl? She looked like she was going to be sick. Can’t say I blame her, truthfully. I’ve never seen anything that . . . broken. I think she was just scared.”

“McGonagall? No way!” Sirius said, waving his hand as if to dismiss the absurd notion. He didn’t sound convinced though.

“I was scared,” Peter whispered.

Sirius snorted. “Of course you were.”

“Sirius,” Remus said warningly.

“Sorry, Wormtail,” Sirius muttered.


“Why do you think he picked her?” Remus asked.

“What?” James asked, confused. “What do you mean? Why does he do anything? There’s no logic.”

“No, I know that. I just meant . . . I mean, did any of you notice her clothes?”

Sirius snorted and said, with the slightest hint of a grin, “I wasn’t focusing on her clothes, man. I don’t, generally, when I’m carrying a gorgeous girl. Even if she is unconscious.”

Remus frowned slightly at the inappropriateness of Sirius checking out a torture victim while he carried her to the hospital wing. He shook his head and then said, annoyed, “Only you, Padfoot. What I meant was, she’s a muggle. And she’s not from around here. I’ve never seen clothes like that. They were all tiny and . . . tight.”

Sirius grinned. “Looks like I’m not the only one making eyes at unconscious girls.”

“Shut it. They were just so different than anything I’ve ever seen. She’s definitely not from around here.”

“Who cares where she’s from? Or why he picked her? Grudge? Convenience? So what? Whoever she is, she doesn’t deserve what he did to her!”

“Calm down, James,” Remus ordered, frowning.

“I won’t calm down!” James shouted, jumping to his feet. “Didn’t you see her? Didn’t you see what he did? She’s so small. So young. She’s our age! It’s not right!”

“Of course it’s not right,” Remus stated.

“Why isn’t anybody doing anything about him?” James asked.

“People are doing things,” Peter whimpered. “The aurors-”

“The aurors are idiots!” James yelled, slamming a hand down on the mantle of the fireplace. “Sorry, Wormtail,” he added when the other boy let out a startled, “Eep.”

“S’okay,” Peter said, again. “Um, just a thought. Are, Are we sure it was You-Know-Who? I mean, her bones were broken. That, that doesn’t sound like something Death Eaters would do.”

“Hmph. And what would you know about Death Eaters?” Sirius asked scathingly.


“Right. Nothing. Besides, couldn’t you feel the magic on her? You could practically see it, there was so much.”

“I wonder why they dumped her in the forest?” Remus asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” James said. “Hardly anybody goes in there. If we hadn’t found her tonight, there’s a good chance she would’ve been in there until we went back next month. She’d be dead by then.” He added quietly.

The boys were silent for a moment, contemplating the awful thought of that poor girl dying alone in the woods. For once in his life, Remus was almost grateful to be a werewolf. If he wasn’t, they never would have found her.

“What do you suppose they’ll do with her?” Sirius asked quietly.

“Send her to St. Mungo’s, I suppose,” James answered, flopping into his chair again and resting his head on his hand.

“No,” Remus said. “Dumbledore doesn’t want to. He thinks there will probably permanent damage, and he doesn’t want them to obliviate her. He told Madame Pomfrey that a person has the right to remember if they’ve been tortured. He wants to keep her here and keep an eye on her.”

“How do you know that?” Peter asked, amazed at Remus’ apparent omniscience.

“Dumbledore told Pomfrey while McGonagall was yelling at us. I tuned her out.”

“Remus!” Sirius cried, shocked.

“What? We’ve heard it before?”

James laughed. “It’s just so unlike you.”

Remus gave James a small smile. “Been around you too long.” Then, as Peter yawned, he added, “We should go to bed. Tomorrow’s Monday.”

The boys nodded, and stood. They stretched and then walked slowly upstairs, all still thinking of the young girl they had rescued earlier that night.

James slipped into the hospital wing after classes the next day and walked slowly up to the girl’s bed. It was easy to tell which one she was in, it was the only occupied bed. He frowned as he looked down at her. She was so small, and fragile looking. He reached out and brushed a piece of matted hair off of her face, jerking his hand back quickly when she gave a low groan.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. More.”

“You didn’t hurt her Mr. Potter.”

“Wha- oh, hi, Madame Pomfrey. Are you sure?”

“Yes. She’s on some rather heavy pain potions. It’s all I can do for her,” the woman sighed, sounding discouraged.

“What do you mean? Can’t you give her the bone mending potion?”

The mediwitch shook her head. “Professor Dumbledore and I do not feel it’s wise to use too many potions on her. She’s a muggle and must not become too dependent on magical means of healing.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I suppose. How long will it take her to get well?”

“I don’t know. I only took one class on muggle healing at school. I will give her some potions to ease the pain of course, and perhaps something to speed the process up, but I imagine it will be a month at least.”

James couldn’t imagine being in the hospital wing for that long. It would be unbearable. “Is there anything I can do for her?”

Madame Pomfrey sighed and sank into a chair by the girl’s bed. She reached a gentle hand out and stroked the girl’s cheek. “You’ve done enough, Mr. Potter. You and your friends saved her life.”

“I know, I just feel . . . connected.”

“Yes, she does inspire a feeling of protectiveness, doesn’t she? She’s so innocent looking.” The woman’s eyes darkened, and she said, in a voice James had never heard her use before, “I hate to think of what she must have gone through. Of, if I could just get my hands on that thing! I swear, the way I feel right now I could. . . .”

She seemed to realize then that she was talking to a student and trailed off. She was silent for a moment and then stood and began to walk towards her office. “I’ll just leave you alone then. Talk to her. Maybe it will help.”

James frowned after the departing witch and collapsed into her vacated chair. He stared at the girl for a moment before beginning to speak softly to her.

“Hi. I’m James. James Potter. It was me, or rather me and my friends that brought you here. We found you. . . on the ground. In the forest. You were. . .Merlin, I’ve never seen anything like it. You were crumpled. You’re so tiny. How could they. . . how could he?

“Oh, you don’t want to hear this! You’ve been through enough. Let’s talk about something happy. You’re at Hogwarts. You’ll like it here, when you wake up. It’s great. It’s like home. I, oh, bloody hell! I don’t know what to say to someone who can’t talk back. Wake up, so you can talk to me. We’ll talk about whatever you want. Um, girly stuff! Hair, clothes, boys. No, not boys. I’m sorry, I know you’ve been through a lot, but there are some things a guy just can’t do. Anything else, though. If you need to talk about what he did to you, I’ll listen. I promise. Just wake up. Wake up!”

Suddenly, he realized he’d been yelling at her. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone now. I don’t even know why I’m here anyway. Just sleep okay? I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? I’ll bring the guys with me. Just, just sleep.” And with that he turned and walked out the door.

“The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me.”

She was falling. Falling through space, falling through time, through black air.

“Mom? Mom? Mommy?” she said, her voice becoming softer with each word.

“Not yet Buffy. It’s not time. You have something to do.”

“I’m dead.”

A voice she didn’t know, from a boy she didn’t recognize. Messy hair. Glasses. “But you’re still pretty.”

A woman in a subway. Spike.

“I coulda danced all night with that one.”

A big black dog, running towards her. “You have a destiny,” it screamed, morphing into another boy she didn’t recognize, then into the one before.

Bright green eyes. Piercing.

Lightening. Screaming. A flash of red hair. Willow!

Not, not Willow. Not yet.

You have a destiny!

A baby. A miracle.

Never supposed to happen, but a miracle.


Green eyes!

She was holding him.

You have a destiny!!!

The baby was gone. She was alone. In the ground.

“Mom? Mom? Mommy?”

“Still not time, Buffy.”

Blank, merciful white light.

In the ground.