Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Harry Potter do not belong to me, and remain property of their respective creators, publishers and production companies. Purely for fun, not profit.Summary:
AU after season 2 of Buffy. Buffy sends Angel to Hell but gets transported through time and space in the backlash of the portal closing. She ends up at Hogwarts in 1943. Will she change history?Notes:
Response to challenge 2438, issued by BuffyCharmed. Found it on my hard drive, thought it wasn't complete crap and decided to post it.Chapter 1“Shh, don’t worry about it,” Buffy whispered against Angel’s lips. She laid her hand on his cheek and kissed him. They kissed for a few moments as the vortex behind them continued to grow.
“I love you,” Buffy whispered after she broke off their kiss.
“I love you,” Angel whispered back. Buffy brushed his lips with her fingers.
“Close your eyes,” Buffy whispered, nodding reassuringly. Angel did what she told him to and closed his eyes.
Trying hard not to cry, Buffy kissed him one last time before stepping back slightly and thrusts her sword into his chest. Angel’s eyes opened immediately in both surprise and pain, and a light emanated from the sword. Buffy stepped back a little more, unable to meet Angel’s eyes. He looked at her, and all she could do was stare at the sword coming out of his chest.
“Buffy…” he whispered, but she would not look at him. Behind him, the vortex to Hell was growing still, its energy interacting with Angel’s energy. Angel held his hand out to her, but she did not acknowledge it. The vortex met him, and Angel was swallowed into the portal. There was a slight backlash of power, and when the dust cleared, the statue of Acathla stood alone, with no sign of Buffy or Angel.
Buffy landed on some grass with a dull ‘thud’. She lay there for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. She had just sent Angel to hell. Angel was in hell.
And it was all her fault.
“Oh God,” she whispered, burying her head in her arms. She let the tears fall, unaware and uncaring of where she was. She lay there for what seemed like hours, crying. It wasn’t until she heard a voice that she came up for air.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Buffy extracted her head from her arms and looked up. Standing over her was a very tall man with long, auburn hair that was turning grey and a beard that matched.
“My… my name is Buffy,” Buffy replied softly, her voice hoarse from crying. “A-and I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“Well, child, I’m sure we can figure it out,” the man said, holding out his had to her. Buffy hesitated for a moment before allowing him to help her up. If he was bad, she was certain she could take him. After all, how dangerous could an old man be? “Let’s get you up to the school to warm up. You can explain everything to the headmaster when we get there.”
It was then Buffy realized that it was almost pitch black outside, and that the stars were out in full force. She also realized that she wasn’t in Sunnydale anymore; it was far too chilly to be a southern California evening, even in winter. She wanted to ask her guide where she was, but thought it would be a good idea to wait until she was inside somewhere.
Buffy followed her “guide”, numb from everything that had happened over the last few hours. She had been kicked out of her house, expelled from school, saved the world and sent her lover to hell. She was a little surprised that she wasn’t more tired than she was. Well, she would have been surprised if she could feel any kind of emotion.
Dumbledore glanced at the slight girl. She was sad, depressed, and he wondered what had happened to her to make her this way. She was so young; what could she have seen? What had she done? He also wondered why and how she got to Hogwarts. Apparition was impossible because of the wards, and Portkeys that were not authorized by the Ministry of Magic were illegal. Besides that, the girl didn’t look like a witch. She was dressed strangely; trousers and a tight-fitting shirt. Did Muggle women wear trousers? Dumbledore wasn’t sure, but it certainly seemed strange to him.
“You’re lucky you got here when you did,” Dumbledore said, glancing at the girl. “All of the students are in bed, so you shouldn’t have to deal with inquisitive young minds.”
“Oh,” Buffy said, unsure of how to answer. She wasn’t really sure of anything at the moment; everything was weird to her. Getting a better look at the older man, she realized that he was wearing a dress. At least, it looked like a dress. She didn’t say anything, though. She thought it would be a good idea to stay on the man’s good side because he had offered to help her.
“As soon as we get over the crest of this hill, you should be able to see the school,” the man said. He stopped for a moment to let Buffy catch up. For an old guy, he sure can walk fast, she thought, though she hadn’t even broken into a sweat following him. She stopped next to him, partly wanting to get a glimpse of the school they were near.
“That’s a school?” Buffy asked, her jaw dropping in shock. She had been expecting something like Sunnydale High School. What she got was a huge castle with towers and turrets and courtyards. It was too beautiful to be a school.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” the man asked. “I still get chills when I see it, even after all of these years.”
Buffy knew better than to ask how old he was, though she would estimate mid-forties to early fifties, sixty at the most. She stood and stared at the school for a moment before the man spoke up again.
“We should be off, then,” he said. “We don’t want to keep Professor Dippet up too late.”
The man started down the hill and Buffy followed. They walked in silence, neither of them knowing what they could say. It was a short walk, and soon they arrived at the castle.
“We’ll go through this door,” he said as they came up to a side door. Buffy couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but it looked like the man had taken something out of his pocket before tapping on the door. The door creaked open, and the man motioned for Buffy to follow him.
The door they had come through led to a corridor lit by torches. Buffy took a moment to glance around, marvelling at the lack of technology that was around. As far as she could tell, there was no electricity.
“I’m sorry to say, but we have a bit of a walk ahead of us,” the man said, motioning to Buffy to follow him. “If you don’t mind, Miss…?”
“Summers, Buffy Summers,” Buffy replied as she turned and followed him. “What can I call you?”
“I am Professor Dumbledore,” the man, Dumbledore, replied with a small smile. “I teach transfiguration here at the school.”
Buffy had no idea what he was talking about, and she supposed her confusion showed on her face. Dumbledore chuckled a little before explaining himself.
“I teach the students to transform something into another completely different item,” he said.
“How do you do that?” Buffy asked.
“Magic,” Dumbledore said with a wink. Buffy’s jaw dropped in shock a second time that night. This is a magic school? she thought. Cool. She jogged a few steps to keep up with Dumbledore; apparently he didn’t alter his pace, even when he dropped bombs like that.
The pair walked in silence again, Buffy still staring in awe at all of the things around her in the castle. Now that they were walking in the main part of the school, Buffy could see some of the stranger things of the school. Even though the subjects of the paintings lining the walls were asleep, Buffy could still see them move. She wasn’t certain of it, but she thought she heard a couple of them snore.
“Come along Miss Summers, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to gawk at the portraits,” Dumbledore said, glancing over his shoulder. Not if they kick me out once they find out I can’t do magic, Buffy thought as she hurried to catch up to Dumbledore.
Several moving staircases and a couple of floors later, Buffy and Dumbledore stood in front of a gargoyle statue. Dumbledore walked up to it, crouched by where its ear supposedly was, and whispered something. Whatever he said must have done the trick, because the gargoyle sprung to life and moved out of the way, revealing a moving golden staircase, much like an escalator.
“Let’s go on up,” said Dumbledore, stepping onto the staircase. Buffy followed suit, and the staircase started moving. Up and up it went, seemingly endless, until they got to the top. They must have been several hundred feet higher than they had been before. Maybe we’re in one of the towers? Buffy thought as she got off of the stairs, slightly dizzy.
“Professor Dippet should still be up,” Dumbledore said to her before he knocked on the door.
“Come in,” said a voice from the other side of the door. Dumbledore turned the knob and opened the door, ushering Buffy in before him, closing the door behind him.
“Albus, what seems to be the trouble?” asked the old man seated by the fire. This was obviously an office; there was a desk and a couple of chairs, as well as a large fireplace. He glanced at Buffy, giving her the once-over. “Who is your young friend, Albus?”
“My name is Buffy Summers,” Buffy said, before Dumbledore could answer for her. She knew that she’d have to speak eventually; she might as well start off on her own.
“Well Miss Summers, how about you pull up a chair and tell me a little bit about yourself,” Dippet said. He picked up a stick that had been sitting on a side table. He waved it, and one of the chairs stationed in front of his desk floated over and landed next to Dippet’s chair. More magic, I guess, Buffy thought as she crossed the room. She gingerly sat in the chair offered. Dumbledore followed and conjured a chair of his own, a squishy armchair.
“What brings you to Hogwarts?” Dippet asked, curious.
“To be honest, I don’t know,” Buffy replied. She took a deep breath. “One minute I was sending my lover to hell, and the next I’m laying on some grass.”
“If I hadn’t been on one of my evening strolls, she would probably still be there,” Dumbledore remarked.
“What do you mean by ‘sending your lover to hell’?” Dippet asked. Oh boy, I’ve just opened a can of worms here, Buffy thought. She collected her thoughts for a moment, trying to find a way to explain herself without being too blunt.
“Well…it’s like this,” she began, not quite sure how much she was allowed to tell without getting into trouble. However, for all she knew, this could all just be one crazy dream and that she could wake up any minute. She decided to just go for it. “In every generation there is a girl chosen to fight demons, vampires, and various other big bads. I fight the darkness.”
“That sounds simple enough,” said Dippet. “Go on.”
“Well, I didn’t quite follow the rules. I kind of fell in love with a vampire, but he had a soul. Only I didn’t know that if he was truly happy, even for a moment, he would turn into a monster,” Buffy continued. “Well, I gave him that moment of happiness, and he turned into a murderous beast. He found the demon Acathla, which creates a portal to hell. Just as the portal was opening, his soul somehow got restored, but it was too late. I…I…”
Up until that point, Buffy had been composed, but as soon as she came to the part where she had to send Angel to hell, she lost all control. The tears started to fall down her face and she couldn’t speak anymore. Thankfully, the two men got the idea and didn’t press her further.
“I think we’ve put this girl through enough tonight,” Dumbledore said, placing a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
“Too right,” Dippet agreed. “Miss Summers, I’m sure you’ve had a trying day. Would you be willing to speak to me tomorrow about this?”
“I-I think I can manage that,” Buffy replied. In reality, she didn’t want to talk about it at all, but Dippet spoke in such a way that you couldn’t really argue with him. He had a certain way of making a demand sound like a request.
“I know it’s hard, but we need as much information from you as possible, to see if we can send you back to wherever you came from,” Dumbledore said. It made sense, but that didn’t mean Buffy had to like it.
“Where am I going to sleep tonight?” Buffy asked.
“We have some guest quarters just down the corridor from here that are quite cozy,” Dippet said. “Professor Dumbledore, if you could show our guest the way?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Dumbledore replied. He got up from his seat, and Buffy followed suit.
“Get some sleep, Miss Summers,” Dippet said with a warm smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Buffy nodded, unable to speak. She was suddenly very tired, and wanted nothing more than to bury herself underneath a blanket and go to sleep for a week. What she really wanted was her mother, her friends and Angel, but that wasn’t feasible. Her mother had kicked her out, her friends were in Sunnydale, and Angel was in Hell.
Buffy quietly followed Dumbledore out of the office, down the stairs and into the corridor. Dumbledore walked a short distance before stopping in front of a painting of a young girl in a tutu. Because it was late, the subject of the painting was asleep. As Dumbledore tapped on the picture frame, Buffy watched in awe as the painted girl awoke. She glared at Dumbledore, obviously unimpressed with him.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Giselle, but I need access to the room,” Dumbledore said apologetically. He gestured to Buffy, who was standing behind him. “We have a guest that needs a place to stay. May we come in?”
Buffy thought it was a little strange to see someone talking to a portrait, and even stranger to see the portrait move and react to the words. The girl in the painting looked at Buffy, and her expression softened slightly. With a nod, Giselle the painting girl made a gesture with her hands and the portrait swung open on a pair of hinges, revealing a doorway.
“These are your rooms, Miss Summers, for as long as you are here,” Dumbledore said. “I will leave you now, and I will be back for you in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Buffy said softly with a grateful smile. Dumbledore returned it with a sad smile of his own before turning and heading down the corridor.
Buffy entered the room, not paying any attention to the décor. The only thing she wanted to find was the bed, and she found that in no time. She flopped face first onto the duvet, and she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
There’s chapter 1, folks. Positive feedback is appreciated, constructive criticism is sought after and flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Mmm… marshmallows…