Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Harry Potter had never had a normal sense of normal. After a certain number of near-death experiences against such a variety of Dark wizards and creatures, he supposed, one tended to lose the inclination to gasp in horror and shock. Not much could catch Harry Potter, boy-who-lived, savior of wizard-kind, and all-around good guy, off-guard.
Nevertheless, upon entering the home of his current girlfriend, Harry Potter was somewhat taken aback. He had known, of course, that Faith helped teach self-defense at an all-girls boarding school. She had told him, of course, that a certain one of her friends – his name presumably started with an X, as that was how Faith referred to him, but Harry couldn’t recall Faith ever mentioning anything further – was slightly overprotective of “his girls”, as he called them. He knew all about ‘G’ who seemed to Harry, from Faith’s descriptions, to be somewhat of a male version of Mrs. Weasley, becoming a parent for anybody in need of one. He knew all about how ‘B’ was their ring-leader, and that the school was mostly her idea and was named for her mother – the Joyce Summers Institute for Gifted Girls, and that was the only reason he knew more than that any of Faith’s friends did, in fact, have more than one letter in their name – and that B’s little sister was the sanest of them all.
There was very little that compared to facing down an insane, evil, and powerful wizard that wanted, more than anything else in the world, for you to die, but Harry felt that a word of warning that ‘X’ considered his friends, as well as the students, under his protection, would have been nice. He would also have liked to know about the fact that, instead of making death threats as a normal overprotective friend, ‘X’ chose to sharpen a large battle-ax – which, Harry mused, seemed to be quite sharp enough already – in the middle of the sitting room.
And it probably wouldn’t have killed Faith to mention the eye-patch, which was somehow more intimidating that Moody’s all-seeing replacement eye. At the very least, he reasoned, this continuing lack of an eye meant that they weren’t evil wizards setting an elaborate plot to lead to his eventually death by ritual sacrifice.
“C’mon, Hare, B’s gotta be in the gym. Downstairs, this way.”
It was all Harry could do to hope that ‘B’ was not a ten-foot-tall Amazon woman that could beat him up as painfully as X probably could.