Interfering Government Agency, meet angry Slayer
A/N: A new chapter, because I’m writing when I should be working. Bad Nimbus!
I own neither BTVS, which belongs to Joss Whedon, long may he live, and Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. The line that has been mangled to provide the Initiatives sort of motto comes from Torchwood, which belongs to RTD and the BBC.
Harry had apparated back home, citing tiredness and drink, and Buffy, Willow and Xander were wandering down through the warehouse district.
“So, what do you guys think of Harry?” Buffy asked perkily.
“He seems nice. And he feels seriously powerful, he can teach me so much!” Willow said, smiling.
“He’s a cool guy,” Xander confirmed.
“You’re just saying that because he’s as geeky as you are,” Buffy said playfully, and they all shared a laugh.
“How’s the thing with Parker going? Is he bothering you?” Xander asked tentatively, planning to dry wall the man into the next century if he tried to hurt Buffy.
“He… said something nasty as we walked past him. So Harry beat him up and said he would kill Parker if he ever went near me again, if I didn’t do it first. Apparently he doesn’t like people hurting his friends,” Buffy said, a faint smile on her face.
“Who do we know who acts like that, I wonder? Harry and Buffy sitting in a tree…” Xander said under his breath, grinning.
“Knock it off Xander, I barely know him,” Buffy said, punching him gently on the shoulder and blushing.
Xander merely shared a wink with Willow and said nothing. He knew that Willow would pump her for information later.
Harry apparated back to his house and went to sleep immediately, whereupon he dreamed of a lithe blonde slayer with nigh supernatural pouting skills and a sparkling smile.
When Buffy got back to her dorm, she spilled all to Willow, who made a mental note to tell Xander that, yes, Buffy did in fact have the hots for the mysterious British wizard. And when she went to sleep, she dreamed of messy black haired wizards with shining green eyes.
The next day, there was a loud knocking on Harry’s door. Harry woke up, literally rolled out of bed and groaned.
“I’m coming! Alcohol plus jet lag equals headache and sleepiness!” He bellowed, pulling on some clothes, grabbing his glasses and shuffling to the front door, opening it to see Buffy, who was looking disgustingly cheerful. And she was grinning as her eyes travelled up to his hair, which was sticking up all over the place. Harry cast a sidelong glance at the mirror in the living room and sighed. His hair was, putting it lightly, a mess.
“I know. My bed-hair’s crazy. Sorry, I just woke up,” he said apologetically. “You want some coffee or something?”
“Nah, it’s kinda cute,” she said with a smile, skipping inside, Harry’s eyes following her as if they were metal and she was a magnet, “and yes please.”
“Oh, sure,” Harry said waving his wand a couple of times, causing coffee to pour itself into the coffee machine and setting it going.
“My ex was useless in the morning and her mum is great at cooking, so she learnt that trick,” Harry said by way of explanation.
“Magic is way cool,” Buffy said, eyes wide as Harry summoned a couple of mugs from the cupboard. Then she knocked him to the ground as the coffee maker exploded, landing on top of him, smacking his head against the floor.
Buffy lay sprawled on top of him for a long moment as they said nothing. “Well. Subtract the clothes and the blow to my head and I’m living the dream,” Harry said, then blushed as Buffy did. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that.
“Don’t think I won’t hit you because you’re hurt, mister,” she said in playfully stern voice, before looking at the smoking ruin of the coffee machine and the coffee splatters on the wall.
“Si, senorita,” Harry muttered, then stood to look at the coffee machine. “I should have mentioned that my ex was much better than me at that particular spell.”
“Really? I mean, I heard that exploded coffee machine is apparently the look now,” Buffy said innocently.
Harry raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Reparo.”
Buffy raised both eyebrows. “Where have you been all my life? You would be amazed at the amount of stuff that gets broken at home when monsters come to visit.”
“They’re inconsiderate like that,” Harry agreed, clearing the coffee from the wall with a flick of his wand, and healing the bump on the back of his head with a couple of taps.
“Maybe we should talk over coffee,” Buffy said, then cut Harry off as he opened his mouth. “Let’s go out and get some. Before something else blows up,” she said cheekily.
Harry stuck out his tongue at her, and went to get cleaned up as she laughed.
Eventually they reached the coffee shop without further explosion or trouble and ordered their drink of choice.
“So, Harry, how do you like Sunnydale?” Willow asked.
“Well, I’ve been here less than a day, but I can honestly say I love the scenery,” Harry winked at Buffy who couldn’t hold back a blush.
Xander grinned and opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Willow, smiling sweetly all the while, stamped on his foot. Harry smothered a snicker. So very Hermione and Ron, he thought, but platonic.
“Where did you learn how to use your magic?” Willow asked, deeply curious.
Harry looked around significantly, and said nothing until Buffy said, “Eh, don’t worry, Sunnydale’s main river is denial.”
Harry snorted, and said, “Yeah, Auror Rosenberg said something like that.”
“Rosenberg?” Willow asked with a puzzled frown.tyw
“Some distant relative of yours, runs the Auror office for this region of the US. He doesn’t know you have magic, and I’m not immediately minded to tell him. He seems like a good guy, but there are more than a few magical governments that would love to experiment on someone with a nigh unique hybrid magical core,” Harry said.
Willow frowned a little but nodded.
“What’s an auror?” Buffy asked.
“Dark wizard hunters. Technically I’m a rookie, but I’ve had more… practical experience than most. Our job is to bring in Dark wizards, and we’re the elite compared to Magical Law Enforcement. One muggleborn operative called us a cross between the Firearms Squad and the SAS,” Harry said, then added for the benefit of the confused Americans, “the British versions of SWAT and your Special Forces.” With a grin he said, “The SAS are the best in the muggle world of course.”
This started a cheerful argument between Harry and Xander over whose special forces were the most badass, as Willow looked a little upset at being marginalised.
“Oh, and to answer your question Willow, I went to a magical school called Hogwarts, considered to be one of the best in the world. It did help that our headmaster was the most powerful Wizard in the world, and even at over one hundred years old, duelled Voldemort to a standstill, forcing him to retreat. Before that he ended the Wizarding equivalent of World War two in 1945, beating the one guy as feared as Voldemort,” Harry said, then added, “Unfortunately the Defence against the Dark Arts was cursed, and we only had three competent teachers in the time I was there. My first teacher was being possessed by Voldemort, my second was a fraud of a celebrity who was only good at messing with people’s memories, my third was great, a friend of my dad’s and a good teacher, but he was a Werewolf, and people don’t like them in the Magical World, so he resigned rather than be forced out.”
“They hate Werewolves?” Willow asked, outraged.
“Yeah. Class them as ‘Dark Creatures’ and second class citizens. That’s changing, but it’s difficult. Oh, that reminds me, I hear your boyfriend is a werewolf, Oz, right?” Harry asked, then added, “I got a basic overview of you guys before I came here.”
“Yeah, he is,” Willow said then her eyes narrowed, “you aren’t going to try and take him away or kill him are you?”
“No! It’s just this friend of my dad used something called the Wolfsbane potion. It let him stay in control during the full moon. He still transformed, but only physically. I think I can get hold of some,” Harry said, not mentioning how expensive it would be.
Willow smiled sadly, and said, “That would be great, because Oz always had problems with the transformation and I had to lock him in a cage every full moon. But he left, to get control of his wolfy side after another werewolf turned up.”
Harry deflated, and said quietly. “Oh. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. So what was your school like?”
“Chaotic, wonderful, dangerous and just a bit mad,” Harry said, then proceeded to give Willow a full account of his years at Hogwarts, complete with his personal backstory, as she sat engrossed.
“Can you teach me?” she finally asked.
Harry opened his mouth just as Buffy rebuked her. “Willow, he’s already got a job! And he only just got here.”
“Yeah, but he’s hardly going to be doing much in the day, is he?” Willow pointed out.
As Buffy was about to reply, Harry said, “I’d love to.”
When Buffy looked at him, he shrugged. “I’ve done it before. I can at least give her a basic grounding in Charms, Transfiguration and Defense against the Dark Arts, and I’ve got all my old text books. Besides, Giles could help me.”
“Giles was a wand-wizard?” Willow asked, astounded.
“How much has he told you about his past?” Harry asked guardedly.
“He used to be real scary in a warlocky kind of way some time back, called Ripper,” Willow said.
“He knew my parents and was their friend. Their deaths helped tip him over the edge, and he became the most feared person aside from Bellatrix Lestrange – Voldemort’s most dangerous servant – and Voldemort himself in Britain and a fair bit of Northern Europe. Mostly he didn’t bother with hurting non-magical people, but he still scared magical people a lot. One day, something changed, someone died, and he took his wand and the wands of his companions into the Ministry of Magic and snapped them. As far as I know, he reformed totally, became a Watcher and never touched magic again. As for whatever else happened, well, that’s his business, and I think he would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it,” Harry said flatly.
“A demon summoning went wrong. Something called Eyghon. We’ve had a couple of run ins with one of his old friends before,” Buffy said, unconsciously rubbing the spot where the tattoo had been. Harry didn’t miss the motion and looked sharply at her, but said nothing.
“Ethan Rayne,” Xander said quietly.
“He’s on our wanted list, for mental manipulation, malicious human transfiguration and murder by proxy,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Maybe I can collar him if he comes back here.”
“It would be nice to know that one of the people we don’t kill won’t be coming back,” Buffy said.
“Well Willow, I at least can start teaching you in a couple of weeks,” Harry said.
“Why a couple of weeks?”
“Among other things, I want to find out how much you already know, what you can do, the differences between your magic and mine, and most importantly, we’ll need to get you a wand,” Harry said.
Willow squeaked with joy and impulsively reached out to hug Harry, who, though surprised, returned her hug. Only Xander noticed, with some amusement, Buffy’s eyes narrow immediately.
“So much for barely knowing him, huh?” Xander whispered, and she transferred her glare to him, before pouting. “He’s only got eyes for you, anyway, like you have for him. Neither of you will admit it though,” he sighed as Buffy continued to look grumpy.
“Thank you,” Willow said, “Sorry about the touching,” she added, casting an apologetic look at the glowering Buffy, who appeared to be mostly mollified.
“No problem. If I hadn’t been so shocked when I first found out I was a wizard, I think I would have grabbed onto Hagrid and never let go,” Harry chuckled, utterly missing Buffy’s brief bout of jealousy.
“So, you wanna come patrolling with m – us, do you wanna come patrolling with us?” Buffy hastily corrected herself.
“Sounds great, I might as well meet the locals,” Harry quipped.
“I think we’ll leave you guys to it tonight, let Harry get into slaying without anyone else slowing you down,” Xander said quickly, then added, “Besides, I think I’m seeing Anya tonight.”
“I think I’m having a night in,” Willow said.
“Just us then,” Harry said cheerfully, sharing a smile with Buffy. Xander privately estimated that it would be about ten minutes before they started making out.
As it was, Xander was off by about five minutes. They had been patrolling and chatting quietly for fifteen when Buffy tentatively initiated a kiss. Harry promptly looked surprised, but replied with vigour. Neither of them noticed a vampire sneak towards them, then sneer, “Well, what have we here? Dinner and a snack, by the looks of things.”
He didn’t say anything else because Buffy impatiently hurled a stake at him, dusting him.
“What is it with vampires and clichés?” she grumbled.
“The older you get, the more dated your pop culture references are,” Harry said wisely when they next came up for air.
Buffy shrugged, then looked at Harry and said, “Maybe we should do some patrolling now?”
Harry looked at her, then at the graveyard around them, then back again and grinned. “Whither thou goest,” he said gallantly.
Buffy looked at her watch, then back at the graveyard. “It’s still early, I’m sure we c-”
Her voice was cut off by Harry snogging her. Neither of them noticed the commando’s sneaking by, one of them giving off an almost imperceptible sigh as he saw them, receiving a sympathetic pat from one of his comrades.
About ten minutes later, the two managed to disengage for long enough to regain rational thought.
“Okay, I want to see how well you can dust vampires with magic, then without,” Buffy said. Harry looked at her, then said, “so, holy water, sunlight, fire, staking or decapitation, right?”
“Ok. Let’s find some vamps.”
The good thing about Sunnydale is that it’s generally not that hard to find a vampire. Harry pointed his wand at it and snapped, “Incendio!” The vampire, dressed in loud eighties clothing, barely had time to scream before being burned to dust.
Buffy nodded, “So the average vamp isn’t going to be much of a problem. But what if one gets in close? What are you like at hand to hand?”
Harry shrugged. “I’m fast, I know that much, but I haven’t done much muggle fighting since my cousin got scared of my magic and stopped using me as a punching bag.”
Buffy looked at him for a long moment, then nodded, and tossed him a stake, which he caught without looking.
“Let’s go hunt some vamp,” Harry said.
As Buffy found, Harry proved to be an above average hand to hand fighter, his seeker reflexes, honed by combat, were up to dealing with a newbie vamp without much difficulty, though a Master vampire like Drusilla or Spike would turn him inside out in ten seconds flat. Still, she thought, as Harry dropped and scythed a leg in a sharp arc, dropping the current vampire he was fighting, then pouncing on it and staking it, training would only make him better.
“Nice one. You could do with some training, but you’re pretty good already. Just remember that magic isn’t always your way out,” she said as he stood up and brushed the dust off his shirt. “Anyway, let’s go in.”
Before she finished the words, Harry grabbed her shoulder and apparated them to the edge of the UC Sunnydale campus. When Buffy got her bearings, she stared at him. “You can teleport,” she said in a small voice, struggling not to be sick.
“Yeah, don’t worry, apparition gets everyone like that,” Harry said, helping her stand and casting an anti-nausea charm on her.
“Will Willow be able to do that?” Buffy asked curiously.
“Not anytime soon. Apparition isn’t something you pick up immediately, and it can be dangerous. Many people who aren’t trained are splinched. That means, separated from one of their body parts, for instance, leaving a leg behind. It’s easy to reverse, but a bit unpleasant,” Harry said mildly, then added, “so this is where I bid you good night.”
He leaned down for a kiss, which Buffy met, and they kissed for a long moment before separating.
“Night,” Buffy said with a smile.
As she turned to go, Harry said, “Wait, your stake?”
“Nah, keep it. I’ve got plenty, and it’s nice knowing a guy’s got wood for me,” she said in a totally innocuous tone that was totally ruined by a cheeky wink.
Harry blushed, and said, “Goodnight Buffy,” as she walked back towards her room.
Instead of immediately apparating back, Harry set about familiarising himself with the local cemeteries, reasoning that he was going to have to sometime, and he might as well get it over with. He turned sharply as he heard the muffled sounds of a fight, and the roars of some sort of demon. Following the sounds, he saw some of the commando’s going up against some sort of demon. As it looked like it was about skewer one of them with its claws, Harry did not hesitate in firing off a reductor curse, blasting off the things head. What he didn’t foresee was one of the commando’s turning and hitting him with some sort of taser. Then everything went black.
Giles was busy going through old watcher diaries, looking to see if previous Slayers had had much, if any, contact with the Wizarding World. Since the ‘Obliviate’ was a favourite of Wizards, it was unlikely that there would be anything, but he persevered. And he really quite liked Harry. The boy had Lily’s kindness, and most probably her temper, but James’s good humour. Buffy certainly seemed to like him, and the feeling was very much reciprocated by Harry. Really, the tension between the two was almost palpable, and someone like Harry who straddled the mortal and supernatural worlds, would be perfect for Buffy. Though it was a little odd that Harry hadn’t dropped by to see him, he assumed that the boy was sleeping off his jet lag, so put it out of his mind.
Two hours later, he heard a loud knocking on the door. He went and opened the door, and was surprised to see a slightly upset Buffy.
“What is it Buffy?”
“Harry. He’s not at his house and no one’s seen him since last night. I thought he did the appa-whatsit trick to get home, but…” she said, clearly agitated, and left the sentence hanging.
“Where did you last see him?” Giles asked briskly, as he went to arm up. Disappearances in Sunnydale were Serious Business.
“Just outside College.”
“Let’s start there then,” Giles said firmly. He hadn’t been able to save Lily and James, and he was damned if he was going to fail their son. As they walked, Buffy gave Giles the summary edition of the previous night, talking of the combat tests, the magic and definitely not the snogging.
Going through the nearby cemetery, they looked for signs of disturbances, Buffy going into full on Slayer mode as she slipped through the graves like a wraith. Eventually a cry of “Giles”, told him that she had found something. As he joined her, she mutely held up Harry’s wand, which Giles took and examined. Then he muttered, “Priori Incantatem.”
Buffy gaped as the ghostly afterimage of a beam of orange light shot out, followed by an incendio, the cleaning charm and the repairing spell.
“I saw him do all but the orange thingy,” Buffy said, and Giles nodded grimly. “What is it Giles?”
“A reductor curse. It’s a powerful blasting and destroying curse, commonly usually used for demolishing obstacles and killing dark creatures without resorting to dark magic. I fear that Harry ran into something worse than a vampire last night,” Giles said.
Buffy bent down and picked up what looked some sort of futuristic communications device, and said, “Several somethings.”
Giles eyed the thing with disgust and said, “We’d better get back to Willow. She can use a tracking spell based on the wand. A wizard’s wand is deeply bonded to its owner. The wand chooses the wizard and all that.” Inwardly, he was curious as to why she didn’t bat an eyelid. Yes, she had met Ethan, she had heard about Ripper, but none of the Scoobies knew that he was a wand wizard. Still, she could just be putting it down to his position as fount of all knowledge in supernatural matters. He looked sideways at Buffy, who looked preoccupied, probably plotting the violent deaths of everyone between her and Harry. He almost pitied them, facing the wrath of an angry Slayer. Almost.
Willow looked up as Buffy barged into their shared room, followed by Giles, and both looked vaguely homicidal.
“What’s wrong Buffy?” she asked, hoping to get to the root of the problem and stop Buffy snapping at anyone who crossed her path.
“Harry was taken by those commando guys in a cemetery last night. He dropped his wand when they took him and Giles says that there’s a connection between a wand and wizard and complex mojo stuff. We need you to find him. Can you?” Buffy said, shifting from barely contained anger to barely contained desperation.
Willow thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think so. We might need to drop by the Magic Box though, for ingredients.”
Buffy sighed and nodded impatiently. “Alright, be quick!”
Half an hour later, the ingredients were bought and the spell prepared. Sitting silently, Buffy and Giles watched as Willow sat cross legged in a pentagram and chanted:
“Temol en’ereg, naia ile, man sad Harry, temol en’ereg, naia ile, man sad Harry, temol en’ereg, naia ile, man sad Harry. Temol en’ereg, til lye a’Harry!” Willow chanted, causing the holly wand to glow silver and spin sharply in mid-air, settling on a direction.
Looking very tired, Willow said, “Take the wand, it’ll point to him.” She looked at Giles and said, “You can still do spells with it, but it would require more power than you might like, and the spell will reset each time.”
Giles eyed her carefully, then picked up the glowing wand. They had a wizard to find.
Harry woke up in white cell like room and winced. Tasers really had a nasty kick to them. He stood up and stumbled towards the clear cell door. Just before he touched, a laconic cockney drawl came from the other side of corridor.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, mate. They’ve done something nasty to the doors.”
Harry looked up at his fellow inmate and saw a pale man of medium height with bleach blonde wearing a black leather duster eyeing him from the cell opposite. He seemed vaguely familiar for some reason, and Harry thought that it might just be the resemblance to Draco Malfoy.
“Have they now?” he said, then shrugged. “What are you in for?”
“Standing around, minding me own business, then some buggers hit me with a taser,” the cockney Malfoy-a-like said sourly.
“Saving some of the commando bastards from something large with fangs and claws. I save one of them from being skewered and they shoot me and lock me up. Bloody Americans!” Harry replied grumpily, then shrugged. “You want out?”
The Malfoy-a-like looked at him, then nodded slowly. “What d’you have in mind”
Harry simply apparated into the other man’s cell, grabbed him, then apparated into the corridor in answer.
“Nifty,” the man said, getting his bearings back rather more quickly than most would, then stuck out his hand, which Harry shook. “Thanks mate. The name’s Spike, by the way.”
Harry recoiled and muttered, “Just my bloody luck, the one person I spring from jail happens to be William the sodding Bloody!”
Alarms started going off, and Harry sighed. “I’m Harry Potter. Temporary alliance until we get the hell out of here?”
Spike nodded, and the two ran for the closing doors, sliding underneath, then the next, before suddenly being surrounded. Harry closed the distance between them and the soldiers, rendering the soldiers weapons useless, and punching one in the face hard enough to stun him, then dragged him back as Spike seemed to be getting into difficulty, suffering crippling neurological pain whenever he tried to punch someone.
“Stop! Or I feed your friend to the vampire!” Harry bellowed, and the commandoes stopped. Spike went game face, and looked like he liked this idea, though something gave him the idea that if he tried to eat this person, it would hurt. Then again, he’d had more than one meal go down the wrong way, so he was willing to risk it. Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention, Harry said coldly, keeping a firm hold on his hostage, “Take us to your leader.” Then he grinned and said, “I’ve always wanted to say that!”
The commandoes looked at one another, then the one who appeared to be their leader nodded, and removed his mask, revealing himself to be…
“Riley?! Oh, wait ‘till Buffy hears this,” Harry said in disbelief. “You have got a lot of explaining to do.”
“You know Buffy? As in, the Slayer?” Spike asked, astounded.
“Technically I’m dating her. Or at least snogging her,” Harry said, and Spike did not miss Riley’s wince as he said that.
“Well Captain America, looks like the Wizard beat you to Buffy! How does it feel coming in second?” he needled.
“Stop it Spike, or I’ll hand you over to the nice commando people for an immediate hot date with a fire. Or a stake. And he could ask you the same, considering Drusilla always liked Angelus a bit more than you,” Harry replied coldly. Spike glared at him, but recognising that this wizard was his way out, subsided. Riley just looked grateful, but Harry shot him a look that left him in no doubt that he was still pissed at him.
“Graham, with me. We’re taking Hostiles 17 and 18 to Director Walsh. You lot return to your posts. Immediately,” Riley barked sharply.
“Agent, Hostile 17 is implanted with a cranial chip that prevents him from hurting non –HST life forms. As evil as I may be in the morning, I don’t think I quite count as an HST, do you? Besides, Harry seems perfectly willing to cooperate, so I think I and Agent Miller should just about be able to manage,” Riley said sarcastically, cutting off the protesting agent, and Harry found it difficult to suppress a snigger.
“Come on you two,” Riley said, leading the way as Graham brought up the rear.
Maggie Walsh was certainly very surprised to see two of the prisoners being led into her office, and asked sharply, “Agent Finn, what is the meaning of this?”
“Director Walsh, Hostile 18 is a personal friend, who I was unaware had been captured. A personal friend who displayed unexpected teleportation abilities which he used to break Hostile 17 out of his cell and make his escape. We cornered them, but Hostile 18 took one of our men hostage, threatening to feed him to Hostile 17,” Riley said.
Walsh’s eyebrows rose, and she said, “Did he use any unusual abilities in doing so, aside from the teleportation?”
“Interesting,” Walsh said neutrally.
Harry sighed, and put in, “I’ve been facing things rather scarier than your toy soldiers since I was one year old.”
Walsh looked at him and said, “Oh?”
“Yes. A dark wizard murdered my parents. I remember it. Occasionally this leads to nightmares, even though I killed the bastard responsible myself,” Harry said flatly.
“Yes, Director Walsh, you are messing with things you cannot hope to fully understand. Spike here, or Hostile 17 as you call him, is a Master Vampire, and the second most feared of modern times,” Spike preened a little, then glared as Harry continued, “despite his ridiculous hair. I’m fairly sure that if you hadn’t sucker punched him, he would have killed at least half your patrol.”
“That’s ridiculous, no HST-”
“This one could. He’s given a friend of mine a lot of trouble in the past, and is one the few to nearly kill her in a straight fight, and believe me, I couldn’t have sucker punched her like I did your commando boy, not in a month of Sundays if she had both hands tied behind her back and was blindfolded. He’s feared throughout the supernatural world, for good reason. Do you know what a Slayer is, Director Walsh?”
“Some sort of boogeyman to the HST’s. Just a legend,” Walsh said, suddenly feeling a lot less sure of herself as the glittering green eyes of the young man opposite her pinned her in place.
“Since I’m dating her, or hope to be soon, that comes as something of a surprise. The Slayer is one girl, born into every generation, who basically functions as an all-round monster killer, though vamps are a specialty. Spike has killed two or three of them,” Harry looked briefly at Spike who merely smirked and shrugged, “I’m not sure if the one in World War II was his kill. To reiterate: He has killed at least two highly trained women with superpowers, any of whom could turn your soldiers into mince with their bare hands, both of whom were designed and trained to kill people like him. And he is still young for a Master vampire. If I didn’t know he depended on me to get out and cannot harm humans, I would be very scared of him,” Harry paused, then added, “In my own defence, I didn’t recognise him when I busted him out.”
“If he’s that dangerous, why should we let him out?” Riley put in.
“I was planning to hand him over to the Slayer. He’s her field of responsibility, though since he’s mostly harmless, for now at least, she’ll probably let him go,” Harry said with a shrug. Spike glared at him and begun planning his escape. Yes. Plan. Him. What people like Angelus and the Slayer failed to realise was that he made good plans. He just got bored easily.
“Here we get to the difficult point,” Walsh said. “We cannot let him go, or he will spread news of the Initiative and everything we have worked for could fall.”
Harry shrugged, “Ma’am the only reason I’m still here is because I’m curious. You’re walking on thin ice and messing with things that you do not understand. I was sent here by both your government and mine to protect the world from the Hellmouth, that thing we’re on that attract demons, since I have prior expertise in Dark Lords. How may HST’s have you killed Riley?”
“17,” Riley said and Harry stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter. Spike just settled for looking smugly contemptuous, an expression that would not have been out of place on Draco Malfoy’s face.
“Okay, I get that your main intention is to capture these things, but 17?! I’m sorry, I’ve been here two nights, patrolled for one of them, and dusted 6, only one with magic. As for the Slayer…” Harry shrugged. “She’s been fighting vampires since she was 14 or 15 and she patrols most nights, so I’d say her tally was at least into the tens of thousands by now. Not to mention all the apocalypses she’s stopped. Yes, apocalypses. She’s stopped the world being sucked into hell once, killed a pure ascended demon with the explosion that destroyed Sunnydale high, and believe me, all that explosive was necessary. She’s destroyed or helped destroy two of the oldest vampires on record and blew a demon that destroys anything that is not pure demons, and cannot be killed, only dismembered, into lots of little pieces with a rocket launcher. I’ve stopped one apocalypse, thought that was fairly localised to Britain, hell, even Spike’s stopped one, admittedly for entirely selfish reasons. You have stopped less apocalypses than a self-centred being of soulless evil. Oh dear,” Harry said, chuckling.
Riley raised his eyebrows, apparently unoffended, unlike Walsh, who looked like she was about to order Harry’s immediate death, and said, “How can you prove this? Can you get Buffy down here to provide evidence?”
Spike suddenly cocked his head, listening, and smirked. “No need mate. And in my experience, if you’re between a Slayer and her boyfriend, you’re going to be in a world of pain.”
Exactly what Spike meant by this statement was immediately shown by one of the agents flying through the office door, followed by an angry Buffy and Giles.
“Hi Buffy, Giles. I was just having a chat with Director Walsh, here, explaining why it’s a very bad idea to mess with the supernatural. I was just about to ask why they captured me in the first place, especially since I saved one of her toy soldiers from turning into a demon’s midnight snack, the ungrateful bastards,” Harry said cheerfully.
“What’s Spike doing here?” Buffy asked as she went to hug Harry, looking an intriguing mixture of puzzled, angry and relieved.
“Your boyfriend busted me out, Slayer, for which I’m thankful. This lot ain’t with you?” Spike said, slightly wary now that Buffy was present.
Leaning into the hug, Harry explained, “I didn’t recognise when I busted him out. I only knew him as a bloke who warned me about the electrocuting doors.”
“Shall I stake him?”
“Your call, but he’s got something in his head that only allows him to hurt demons, so I wouldn’t bother. Besides, we can just release him onto the streets and let him declare open season on anything evil in Sunnydale,” Harry said with a shrug.
“Hmm,” Buffy said noncommittally. Then she looked up and her eyes narrowed. “So, Professor Walsh, care to explain what’s going on here? And you Riley? Why did you bag Harry?”
“He showed signs of paranormal abilities, and the Demonic Research Initiative is ordered to capture and investigate all those who do, to protect the American people. If it’s paranormal, it’s ours,” Walsh said, not batting an eyelid.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Harry said, “Could I make a call?”
Walsh eyed him, then nodded. Harry dialled the number for the South-Western United States Auror office, then waited for a moment.
“Hello, this Harry Potter, Hellmouth Watchman. Can I speak to Commander Rosenberg please?” Harry said formally. “Thank you.”
After another couple of moments, Harry was put through. “Ah, Commander, hi. Sorry to call you at this time, but I’ve run into a bunch of muggles calling themselves the Demonic Research Initiative. I’m a bit annoyed with them because they tasered me after I saved one of their Agent’s lives and seem to have been planning to experiment on me, like they have with a whole series of demons and vampires.”
Harry listened for another moment, then nodded, “Yeah, this lot have the devil’s own luck. They managed to catch Spike. And by capture, I mean, taser from behind when he was distracted, so don’t give them too much credit. Anyway, Commander, could you tell this lot that we have jurisdiction over the paranormal? Keep ‘em off our back, that sort of thing? Thanks.”
He looked up at Walsh, and grinned. “It’s for you,” he said, handing over the phone, which she took.
“Hello? This is Director Walsh of the Demonic Research Initiative, and I am very displeased you sent a rookie operative into our jurisdiction. What? He’s no more than 19, how is he an expert? I find that very hard to believe, Commander. What do you mean, I have authorisation from the Defense Secretary, how can you supersede that? What do you mean, you have a blank cheque from the President on matters supernatural? Then why haven’t I heard of you before?” Walsh said, looking steadily more agitated as the conversation went on.
So wrapped up in the conversation was she and everyone else in the room, that no one noticed Spike inching towards the button to put the call on speaker phone. He pressed it, and was rewarded with Auror Rosenberg’s calm, with a hint of anger in them, tones washing over the room. “… because only the President and select other members of any one administration know who we are. Stay out of the supernatural, Director Walsh,that is an order. If you wish for clarification, call Washington. As it is, I believe the President is sending you an official order to stand down, and either disband with your soldiers being reposted, or work strictly in a support role to the Slayer and the Watchman. I am told he is most displeased with this meddling, as I believe he doesn’t particularly like dealing with the supernatural at the best of times. So this is an order with presidential backing: release Mr Potter, and keep your nose out of business you don’t understand, or you’ll find yourself posted to Alaska with orders to count the snowflakes. Do I make myself very clear?”
Walsh’s eyes narrowed, and said, “You do realise that I will appeal against this order?”
“Feel free. In the meantime, leave my operative and the Slayer to do their job,” Rosenberg replied, then his tone softened. “Director Walsh, I’ve heard good things about you, how dedicated you are to your job. I would recommend that you do the sensible thing and back down, for your own good. Don’t ruin your career by fighting a fight you won’t win.”
“Understood, Commander. Good day,” Walsh said coldly, putting down the phone, then regarded Harry, who was grinning broadly.
“Do you have something to say, Watchman?” she ground out.
“Just this,” Harry said, then made an L shape with his left hand and drawled, “Loser!”
Giles rolled his eyes as Walsh gave Harry a glare that would have made a lesser man quail and Buffy giggled, and said, scrawling down his home number, “Director Walsh, I think we need to go now. Here is my contact number, and we can discuss the disposition of Spike and of the Initiative at a later date.”
“Oi! I’m never coming back ‘ere!” Spike said loudly, shocked out of his amusement at Walsh’s predicament.
“You’ll shut up unless you want me to stake you, Spike,” Buffy said levelly, then leaned forward, placing her palms flat on Walsh’s desk.
“If you ever take or hurt one of my friends ever again, instead of a metaphorical stick up your ass, there will be an actual stick up your ass,” Buffy said softly, then imitating Rosenberg, added, “Do I make myself very clear?”
Suddenly, the agent she had hurled through the door stood and threw a punch at her. She ducked and spun away, using his own momentum to viciously smash him face first into Walsh’s desk, causing it to crack, then hurled him into the nearest wall, denting the wall as he slid down the it, totally insensible. Riley’s eyes widened, and he made to start forward, but Harry was now pointing his retrieved wand at him, and said coolly, “Don’t even think about it, unless you think you’d make a very fetching frog.”
Riley did the sensible thing and stepped back, while Maggie Walsh was thinking. Thinking that maybe project Adam needed to be sped up.
Yes, she thought as Harry levitated a protesting Spike out the door, Buffy staying very close to him as he did, utterly ignoring Riley, It definitely did, or the Initiative would have failed.
Well, that should be the last chapter for a while, because I honestly need to work for my upcoming exams. The language Willow uses in her spell is (badly) translated Sindarin, which basically means, “Wand of Holly, where is Harry (x3), Wand of Holly, lead/point us to Harry.”