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A Cunning Snake Revisited

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Summary: Harry meets the most famous Dark Lord of all.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Buffy-CenteredReallyBoredFR2149,7970158,64513 May 1120 Dec 12No

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Fun Times

Disclaimer: If you believe I own anything here, then there is a bridge in Brooklyn, New York I'll like to sell you! In other words, I own NOTHING HERE! Joss Whedon and his group own all things Buffy The Vampire Slayer. J K Rowlings created and wrote Harry Potter--And that is why she's a billionaire!



Boy, oh, boy . . .Do I feel maudlin today. Been reading too many of those Poor Harry Angsty stories. For good or bad I felt like adding my own . . .The only thing I hope is that it won't suck too much. Looking through my old stories I came to the decision to add to my story 'A Cunning Snake'. But not as an extra chapter, instead I decided to keep the first story as a stand alone, and write another separate adventure for Buffy.

So, here it is. I hope you're entertained by it!






Harry meets the most famous Dark Lord of all.






A Cunning Snake Revisited





The day started off as a completely normal day. For starters, sunlight had somehow managing to slip past her eyelids, while her ears rang with an abominable, but oh so familiar, noise. Buffy woke up to the sun lighting up her bedroom, and her surviving alarm clock ringing away. After a Slayer glare at the offending device, and oh, so gently, pressing down on the off button, Buffy grudgingly got up, stretched, yawned and padded off to the bathroom, emerging refreshed and clean with a previously missing bounce to her step. Her clothing, hair and makeup followed--Buffy took a few minutes to decide on accessories--Coordinating everything with her shoes, naturally. Afterwards, Buffy hurried downstairs, greeted her mother, Joyce, and vacuumed up her breakfast (One of the most important meals of the day!) and dashed out the door with a bright, cheerful, "See you later, mom!". Her mother returning, "Love you, Honey. Have a good day!" followed Buffy down the street.

The rest of the school day was predictable--She met up with Willow and Xander, endured Cordelia's snark and the Cordettes' sneers. (Ugh! Like there was anything really original there!) Snyder the troll predicted a dim future and rained his usual contempt on her and just about everyone else. The classes? Hmmm, Buffy admitted sleeping through many of them. Good thing Willow was willing to share her excellent class notes. Later, Xander expressed his love for The All Great Twinkie. Complete with grand expansive gestures and, ewww, loving caresses. When he planted loving gentle kisses on the soft, yellow pastries before biting into them, his disturbing behavior somehow reminded Buffy of the new lipstick she was planing on buying--Kind of expensive, but beauty costs and all of that. Giles was in his library and said stuff--Buffy was certain of it . . .only, all Buffy could recall was that it sounded like, "Waah, blah, waah, Buffy, waah, blah, waah, Buffy."--But with a really tweedy accent.

She stretched the school day with Giles in the library, taking a satisfying turn at pounding her Watcher into a painful daze during a sparing session. Then leaving the older man to nurse his battered ego and bruises, Buffy contently and confidently strolled down the school's empty corridors, the sounds her shoes' soles and heels were making echoed in the emptiness (That reminded Buffy; she had to learn the name of the newest school custodian. Happily, unlike his predecessors who usually ended up in the back dumpster, either whole or in incomplete pieces, the last one had a sudden saving epiphany; he turned in his resignation, and then turned himself in to the Immigration people for a free ticket back home.) Empty, that was, until she sensed them--Not quite Human, but not demonic either. Yet, with a strange, confusing demonic taint to them. Hmmmm . . .

Curious, Buffy waited for the attack she knew was coming. Since usually it was all like, badness comes, sense badness, badness attacks. When the flying chair came hurling at her, Buffy lazily dodged it. See? Just like that. The chair crashed into the wall behind her with a loud noise, taking chips of plaster out of the wall! Ha! Chortling, Buffy's inner Slayer rose up--And immediately dodged a teacher's desk, and two student desks simultaneously thrown at her head. The heavy wooden table--the top deeply gouged, scratched and tagged by pens, markers, and miscellaneous sharp ended items wielded by generations of bored students--created a wide and deep indentation in the wall behind Buffy, skidded to a stop against another wall and dislodged a huge chunk of plaster upon contact. Idly, Buffy wondered where they had dragged out the table from; it looked vaguely familiar.


"Holy crap!"

"Hi, guys!" She cheerfully chirped out to her two best friends in Sunnydale. Buffy was not at all surprise at their appearance--Especially not Xander; he had a habit of showing up when least expected. As for their actual physical appearance . . .Xander and Willow were so close together they were practically clutching each other, as they crept closer to Buffy, their wide, frightened eyes darting around trying to discover the source of the flying furniture. Buffy kept her friends within the peripheral of her vision, devoting the majority of her attention to the still unseen Whatever attacking her.

"Hey, guys . . .What'cha doing here? I thought the plan was we were going to meet up at the Bronze, after patrol?" Buffy asked, lightly, keeping her eyes moving around the deceptively empty corridor, wondering how the hell things were materializing out of thin air. She had been staring straight at the empty spot that large, heavy table had come hurling out from. Truth be told, she had been getting a slight, bit anxious, and had been considering a retreat back to the library. Now with Xander and Willow . . .Maybe running back to the library was the smarter option.

"Uh, yeah, we were, but Willow here needed to ask Giles something." Xander explained.

"Ah, ah, I, I just wanted to see if Giles could help me with an Egyptian Middle Kingdom translation," Willow breathed. In one hand she clutched a stake, and in the other, an open bottle of water--Holy water. Unconventional weapons retrieved from some hidden area on her body.

"So, what do we have here, Buffy?" Said Xander, waving a stake that came from somewhere in his oversized Hawaiian shirt. "A ghost? A poltergeist? Do we need Giles in on this?"

"Haven't got a clue what they are. No ghost. No poltergeist. And don't know yet." Buffy replied, briefly. She noticed an approaching blur of color.

"Duck!" She commanded. Buffy grabbed their arms and pulled the two teens down as a bench flew through the space where their heads had been! Buffy sprung up again and faced the empty hallway, her friends crouched down behind her--Okay, Buffy told herself, getting angry now, her playful mood dissipating, that was too close . . .Need to wrap everything up before anyone--anyone Human that was--got hurt! If necessary, she could provide a distraction, and Xander and Willow could (hopefully) reach the dubious safety of the library.

Buffy swept the area around her with her senses again. Sadly, only getting back much the same as she had before.

Ah, damn . . .The hard way then . . .She swore.

Outwardly, Buffy smirked, prepared herself, and tauntingly called out--"Is that all you got?"

Silly little Slayer--She really should have known not to do that.

Suddenly, a life size cardboard cut out of Snyder, in full detail and bright color, wearing only a tiny, teeny, bright red speedo, and a biiiig smile on his face, appeared in front of her!

Buffy froze in disbelieving wide burning eyed horror! No fair! NO FAIR!

Oh, God! Nooooo!

"God! Make it stop! Make it stop!" Someone screamed. Xander? Willow? Buffy noted her own throat was spasming shut. Air, she silently gasped. Need air!


The sudden flaring pain in the back of Buffy's head spread . . .along side the quickly enveloping darkness. She could feel her unresponsive body falling and the brief, relatively minor flair of pain when she hit the floor with a heavy loud thump. Regret and fear for her friends surged through at the last when the screams were abruptly cut off and two new thumps followed hers. Ah, damn . . .Xander . . .Willow . . .Sorry . . .Was Buffy's last conscious thought.


It was a baseball. She was hit by a thrown baseball. Buffy came to that conclusion when she regained painful, head throbbing consciousness. Baseball, yep, definitely. Her eyes remained closed, but her other senses had snapped to immediate information gathering. The cold metal, wrapped tightly around her slender wrists and ankles burned slightly with magical energy. What? Rope too good for them? Buffy thought exasperated. Whatever happened to tradition? Tying up the plucky heroine with copious length of rope until she was practically buried in thick coils of restricting fiber? But noooooo . . .They had to toss the ol' try and true and go for the manacles and shackles route! Bespelled stuff, too--Bastards!

Stabbing pain pulled Buffy back from her own personal mental Wonderland. No good comes from walking down that side road, Buffy sternly warned herself, dimming her indignation. Distractions momentarily held at bay, Buffy returned to sightlessly examining her surroundings. Low, nearly inaudible moans reached Buffy, coming from an area to the left and slightly below her. Buffy knew those moans! She had heard those particular sounds many, many times before . . .Relief and gratitude flowed through Buffy--They were alive! Xander and Willow were still alive! Buffy mentally whooped joyfully. And hopefully, she thought with an internal wince, only a little bit damaged.

Okay! Now, she could just . . .Uh-oh. Wards? What the hell? Dammit! Just what she needed--A smart enemy! No Apparating, then . . .Hey! What the--? Startled, Buffy abruptly noticed what else had been done to her--The defenses around her mystical core had been breached! There was a small, tiny, pinprick hole drilled into her mystical core, and it was slowly, steadily draining her mystical energies away from her. Outraged, Buffy realized they were using her as a battery! What for? Hmmmm,Buffy had to get back to that . . .Current business first. She mentally 'healed' the breach and checked for other damages--Within a moments time Buffy mentally wrote herself a Good News, Bad News report: good news, she was undamaged; bad news, the bastards had grabbed enough of her energies to make a quick getaway by Apparating impossible! Even without the damn wards, they were still stuck for at least the next fifteen or twenty minutes, the time Buffy estimated she was going to need for her to recover the missing energy!

And going by experience, Buffy knew the Big Bads were never going to give her those necessary few extra minutes. Damn, so much for the easy way . . .She had to think of another way.

Forcing herself to momentarily ignore her friends, Buffy focused on her surroundings--The smell of incense, wood smoke, chanting . . .Ah, the chanting. And the blood and urine and fecal smell that came with death relaxing bladder and sphincter muscles. So familiar . . .Buffy felt a small wave of relief wash over her--It was good to be back on familiar ground. Regardless of the not quite demonic beings Buffy was certain were in the middle of a ritual with herself and the gang as the blood sacrifice.

A change in tempo in the chanting cued Buffy--Show time! She thought sardonically. A sudden surge of magical energy to the cuffs and shackles, and the binding metal jumped free of her wrists and ankles!

She only had a fraction of a moment to see she and the Scoobies had been placed on a double tier, gray stone altar, with the Scoobies on the lower platform. Unlike herself, they were unbound--But they were unconscious, but breathing!

Buffy leaped up with a spinning kick, Slayer strength granting a caved in face and broken neck to a backward flying body! The large, heavy corpse bowling into a dense crowd of dozens of chanting worshippers. Creepy thing about it all, Buffy reflected, not a single one stopped chanting . . .She watched as dozens of pairs of blood red, pulsating eyes focused on her; long fangs ran with drool and claws flexed.

Ah, hell . . .Buffy jumped up into the air, rotated a couple of times, somersaulting, landing in the space provided by her fleshy battering ram. Her fists and feet thudding into wrinkled, rawhide strength skin, as her slender body was immediately buried under a heaving, noisy pile of non-Humans, non-demonic, pointy eared smelly beings!

Whoa! Tough hides, huh? And her manicured, pink tinted, fingers pierced straight through a couple of eyeballs. Hot optical fluid gushed out and splattered her hands. The bottom of her palm hit a long, sharp nose hard enough to flatten it and send bone shards up into soft brain tissue--Buffy felt uncomfortably hot blood splatter on her. Her elbows snaked back like pistons, driving themselves into throats, crushing airways--Oh, and incidentally, silencing those damn chants! Her feet kicked out and caved in kneecaps, stomped down on bare feet crushing bones. Her knees came up hard between legs damaging or destroying soft tissue.

The writhing, fleshy pile Buffy was under, heaved once, heaved twice, then exploded outwards! Buffy snarled, her eyes incandescent, glowing hot and bright with Power and fury. Griped in her right hand was a long dagger with a black handle, the blade glowing softly with a venomous green light; she struck out with the blade, catching and cutting into tough flesh; each contacted followed by bubbling hissing sounds of liquefying flesh. The chants turned to screams, as each cut allowed the potent poison deeper access into the body, liquefying organs, veins, and bones, boiling and steaming blood and tissue.

Suddenly, a powerful red light exploded into existence!

Her eyes and head jerked up to the altar and caught the figure of one of the creatures hovering above Willow, torchlight gleaming off the edge of the long knife it was hold over Willow's chest! A few feet away, above and to the side of the altar, was a pulsating, twisting cube of malicious red energy.

With a deafening howl of rage, Buffy extended her hand and a blast of pure magical energy ripped out the knife-wielding arm, right out of its shoulder socket! The blood gushing screaming body was hurled straight into the red cub of light. The body was immediately absorbed, and the cube began to expand!

Without wasting time, Buffy hurled herself forward, towards her friends' unconscious bodies. She landed on the altar over her friends' bodies, and raised the best shield she could with the energy reserves she was left with!

At that point, a sudden explosion released destructive, overwhelming heat and light into the chamber! Buffy gasped as a giant fist grasped her core and squeezed and pulled--Her pain was so immense that she could only feel gratitude at her failing consciousness, and the familiar darkness that came with it.

For a while, there was nothing . . .A loud whooshing sound abruptly intruded on the blanket of silence covering her. Buffy heard the normal 'thud' of her heart, and decided the accompanied breathing was pretty nice, too! Tactile sensation followed, and the annoying feeling of gavel digging into her back, vied with oddly echoing traffic noise and the loud scream of jet engines in flight. When Buffy opened her eyes, she saw the white contrail scar of a passing plane on a blue sky. With an experienced eye, Buffy noted the Sun was slightly too dim for California, and the air too cool for the season.

Not in California, then. Not in California, Buffy repeated to herself, masking her panic and fear with annoyance. If not in good ol' Sunnyhell, California, then where?

Moaning and a coughing gasp somewhere next to her, jerked Buffy up to a sitting position. She turned her head and guiltily noted the stirring bodies of her friends. The little blonde did a quick diagnostic check on her Mystical core and discovered herself fully recharged; and that knowledge brought about relief and worries about the length of time they had been unconscious.

"Oh . . .oooh," Willow whimpered. The red head, her hands splayed straight out, weakly flailed her arms and legs about. Xander, unconscious next to her, bizarrely enough mimicked her actions.

A quick diagnostic spell thrown on their reawakening bodies assured Buffy her friends were physically alright. Relaxing, Buffy holstered her wand, and waited for them to wake up on their own. Taking note of their strange behavior.

Cocking her head to the side, and squinting, Buffy considered them: Willow wearing greens, browns and tans, and Xander wearing a light green pair of pants, instead of his usual jeans, with a colorful Hawaiian shirt, made them look like, like . . . Buffy was unable to stop herself from thinking they looked like a couple of paddling frogs. An observation Buffy was certain Willow would never appreciate.

Uh, Buffy was certain Willow's current fashion was her mother's fault--Sheila, sans Ira, had come back to Sunnydale, in one of her rare home visits. Willow was tense and nervous, dropping things and babbling apologies throughout the day. No doubt, a reaction to Sheila's motherly, accepting presence. Buffy felt her eyes roll around in their sockets. Dressing your kid, who had a serious frog phobia, to subtly resemble a frog . . .Seriously, who does that? Oh, yeah, Sheila! Buffy snickered--Sheila bolted out of Sunnydale just about midday, after being hexed into seeing dancing fruit, in kilts, doing an aggressive Can-Can number. Ha, ha! Booh-ya! Another one for the Buffster!

Now, if only she could discover an explanation for Xander's shirts . . .

Confident, her friends were in no immediate danger, Buffy calmly strolled over to the roof edge and looked down--And had her eyes pulled to the flapping British Union Jack hanging from a horizontal pole above a storefront. A couple of red double Decker buses competed aggressively against vehicles, that to her American eyes, were too small and narrow. Oh, and traffic was going the wrong way.

But the completely justifiable cause for Buffy's explosion of foul curses was a small, dark shoddy building, covered with a sheet of bright energy. Her Slayer eyesight saw the sign and the name too clearly--'The Leaky Caldron'.




Here you go . . .I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry to say I don't know when the next chapter will appear. However, I did write an alternative ending to this chapter featuring Dobby. Sadly, it didn't seem to be going anywhere to I scraped it in favor of this current story line.

Hey, listen, if you're really feeling masochistic enough to read it, I might put up the alternative as chapter 2.

Until later . . .By!
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