Mummy's Here... (BtVS/Harry Potter)
Clear! *shocks fic* *notes heart beat* It's alive again!!! Yes, I'm back. I'm hoping to begin a schedule of one major update to something or new fic every three days. Cross your fingers folks.
I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. They belong to Joss Whedon and Joanne K. Rowling respectively.
Albus Dumbledore is a fool. Leaving a child on a doorstep in the dead of night? Has the man never heard of vampires? Young Harry Potter is discovered on the Dursleys’ doorstep by Drusilla the Mad. Guided by the stars and Miss Edith’s whispering voice, Drusilla decides to raise the Boy-Who-Lived. Lord have mercy…
**#4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England
November 1st 1981
“Good luck… Harry Potter.” The words of the elderly wizard echoed softly through the night in the rather pathetic village of Little Whinging. Unfortunately for Albus Dumbledore’s grand schemes, luck was not in force that night. Fate had brought young Harry a most unlikely champion.
An hour after the ‘greatest wizard of the age’ had left the town, a shadow detached itself from number seven Privet Drive. With silent feet, the figure crept up to the basket holding Harry Potter. A hand slipped in and grasped the letter, sighing in disgust as the letter spoke of the need for the Dursleys to take in their wayward nephew and to care for him as best they could.
The vampire that was known as Drusilla the Mad had come a long way to collect her new precious boy. The stars had spoken their clever whispers in her ears and had guided her footsteps to this point.
The wards that Albus Dumbledore had crafted were ingenious. They were certainly powerful enough to keep any sort of dark creature far away. The only flaw in the wards was that they would not go active until they were activated by Harry’s acceptance into the Dursleys’ residence. This acceptance was registered simply by bringing the child into the house, something that even the most callous person would likely do if given half a chance. The problem with Dumbledore’s plan was that the Dursleys were not awake yet and so they could not complete the ritual before Drusilla got there.
The insane vampire tore apart the letter and tossed the fragments to the four winds. The letter would not be needed. For a brief moment Drusilla considered making a meal of the infant. Luckily, Miss Edith’s voice was heeded and Dru took the opposite tactic. She lifted the child from the basket, rocking him gently as he cried from the chill of the night, combined with the chill of Drusilla’s flesh.
She continued to rock him, whispering soft assurances to her newest child. “Hush now, my sweet. Mummy’s here. Nothing will harm you while Mummy’s about. You’re going to change the world, sweetie. Miss Edith said so.”
Moments later, both mother and child had vanished into the cool November night. The empty basket would be discovered and discarded by the Dursleys the next morning. They would remark on its oddity, but otherwise ignore it. After all, there was nothing of interest inside it…
**Diagon Alley, London, England
August 21st 1991
The youth that entered the Leaky Cauldron did not stand out much from the crowd. After all, a pureblood wizard would think nothing of dressing like a Victorian gentleman. It was practically expected. From his top hat, to his regency tailcoat, to his brushed cotton trousers, the young lad looked every inch the pureblood as he briefly glanced at his silver pocket watch before steering himself out of the Cauldron and into Ollivander’s, Makers of Fine Wands. The lad’s black and silver walking stick was held loosely at his side as he entered the small store.
“Well now. And who might you be precisely?” The smooth voice of Garrick Ollivander made the man known. The boy didn’t flinch as most did. Instead, his nostrils flared. Was it annoyance, or did the boy have an unusually sensitive sense of smell? Ollivander caught the yellow-green eyes of his customer and had his answer. “Well now. I don’t believe that I’ve ever served one of your kindred, young master. Still, I have never failed to match a person to a wand, and while I have never attempted to match a dhampyr, I have matched many exotic wizards prior to you. Shall we get down to it?”
The dhampyr tipped his hat in respect. “Bravo, Mr. Ollivander. Your reputation for being both perceptive and learned is well-earned. As for my name, I am Marcus Aurelius. My sire is Drusilla Aurelius.”
Ollivander’s eyes widened faintly before he regained control. Drusilla made a certain level of sense. She was one of the few vampires both quirky and powerful enough to make such a powerful young dhampyr. Dhampyrs were one of the lesser known magical creatures because they were exceedingly rare. A vampire must choose to provide a small measure of their blood over a period of several years to a child. In that time the child must not be drained. The resulting dhampyr depends greatly on the strength of the vampire who sires them. The dhampyr is typically one order of strength lesser than their sire. Drusilla, for example, was a true master vampire and so had sired a dhampyr that was equivalent to a strong minion vampire. Ollivander grasped a wand and presented it. “Maple and phoenix feather, eleven inches…”
Marcus grimaced in pain as he touched the wand and flinched away from it. “I think not, sir.”
Ollivander tilted his head in an apology. “Either the extreme light or fire-based nature of the phoenix feather appears to adversely affect you, Mr. Aurelius. I think dragon heartstring’s fire-based nature and unicorn hair’s light-based nature may have similar effects.” Garrick silently cursed himself for an idiot. Dhampyrs might not share the aversion to the sun that their sires did, hence the nickname daywalker, but they were still relatively easily burned and suffered terribly from contact with holy or light objects. The wand maker explored his wands, looking for something more exotic and less likely to react badly. The dhampyr’s nature quickly eliminated griffin and salamander wands from contention. Finally Ollivander came upon an intriguing combination. “I wonder…”
The dhampyr perked up slightly. “You have a solution, yes?”
The wand maker smiled. “I believe so, Mr. Aurelius. Ironwood and slayer’s blood, willingly granted, twelve inches… The blood comes from Incinii, a Welsh slayer of some repute. She was one of the longest lived in history, or so they say.”
Marcus was intrigued and grasped the wand, gasping faintly at the strength of the connection. “There’s nothing quite like slayer’s blood, according my bother William. I begin to see his point.”
Garrick nodded agreeably. “As you say, Mr. Aurelius. As you say.”
**Abandoned Manor House, Newport, Wales
August 21st 1991
Drusilla perked up as Marcus re-entered their temporary home in Wales. “Mummy’s special boy has returned. How were things in Diagon, Caesar?”
Marcus smirked faintly as he heard William grinding his fangs. William the Bloody had been Drusilla’s favoured childe until Marcus had been sired and slowly usurped the role. Spike really resented that, especially when Drusilla called the lad by her little pet name of Caesar. The only position Spike still held over him was that of Drusilla’s lover, a position that Marcus had no desire to usurp. “It was fine, Mum. I got the wand you told me about.”
Dru smiled down at her favoured childe and caressed his face. “Miss Edith is so pleased with you, Caesar. When you graduate from Hogwart’s you will make the Order of Aurelius truly great again.
AN1: The dhampyr type described is one that I created for this fic. It may or may not be similar to another type of dhampyr. Since there are no dhampyrs in BtVS and HP (except maybe Connor) I am feeling free to invent a type for this fic.
AN2: The name Marcus Aurelius comes from a famous ruler of Ancient Rome. Marcus (who is actually Harry in case anyone doubted it) is merely named for the historical figure, he is not the actual historical figure.
AN3: Anyone who'd like to pick up this plot please drop me a line via the reviews and it'll be all yours.