Disclaimer: I do not own either BTVS or Harry Potter. I am making no money off this story if I was I’d be driving a much nicer car. I’m also borrowing some characters and concepts from Katerine Kurtz and Deborah Harris’s Adept series no knowledge of those books is required. I don’t own those either.
BTVS - Set post season seven spoilers through “Chosen". Minor spoilers for Angel season five.
Harry Potter – Set post Goblet of Fire. Spoilers through book four. The story will run parallel with Order of the Phoenix and start going AU about halfway through.
The Museum boasted one to the finest security systems around. Such is expected, given the value of its collection. A Monet that fetched over half a million at auction hung on one the walls. The collections of Celtic relics that line the atrium were insured with Lloyds for over five million pounds. It came as no surprise that someone attempted a robbery. No, the robbery wasn’t a surprise, just everything about it.
A loud popping noise was heard in the museums main hallway and two people dressed in strangely old-fashioned robes wearing black masks appeared. A guard, responding the noise, charged around the corner. He stopped short, surprised by the sudden appearance of the intruders. He recovered quickly from his shock and shouted, “Halt!”
One the people pointed a stick at him and spoke two words, “Avada Kedavra.” A green beam of light shot out of the stick and struck the guard in the chest. He fell to the ground dead.
The assailants quickly ran into main viewing room. One took up position at the entrance and waved his stick at the doors muttering in some indecipherable language. The doors slammed shut seemingly of their own volition. The other meticulously searched the display cases in the room.
More guards rushed to investigate. They tried in vain to open the doors. Their keys no longer worked in the locks and no amount of effort could break the doors down.
Another loud popping sound was heard coming from the room. Suddenly, whatever force held the doors closed dissipated. The guards flooded the room only to discover it empty and at first glance undisturbed.
It took almost an hour for the museum curator pouring over inventory lists to figure out that the only item missing was a ceremonial dagger. It had no real value. The museum kept on display as an example of early 9th century craftsmanship. It sat next to a solid gold engraved plate given to a knight as a gift for his many years of loyal service.
The robbery baffled the local police. Two men penetrated a highly secured building, through means unknown, killed a guard and escaped without a trace. Every element of the robbery spoke of a professional job. The kind commissioned by wealthy clients to bolster their collections. Someone spent a lot of money to pull it off. So why go through all the expense, commit a murder and only steal a relatively worthless dagger?
Darkness pervaded the chamber. Peter Pettigrew approached cautiously.
“M-Master, we have recovered the artifact.” He held up the silver colored dagger.
A hissing noise emanated from the far side of the chamber. Slowly one of the shadows seemed to move and coalesce into a vaguely human form. It pulled itself along the ground with small studded arms.
A voice, guttural, gnarled and weak sounding came from its mouth, “Place it on the ground so I may examine it Wormtail.”
Pettigrew carefully set the dagger on the ground and backed away. The figure slithered up to the dagger. One of its “arms” reached out and caressed the dagger.
“Yes” the voice spoke. “I can feel the power. This is what I seek. Excellent, Wormtail, you have done well. What of the other preparations?”
“Master, the final event of the Tri-Wizard tournament is three weeks away.” Pettigrew answered. “Crouch reports that everything is in readiness. Potter is sure to reach the Goblet first.”
“Good, good. Soon my power will be restored and that annoying Potter child will be the instrument of my restoration. And then I will wring out his life with my own hands.” A large snake appeared from the shadows and slithered up the strange form. “You may go now Wormtail.”
“T-Thank you m-Master.” Pettigrew backed out the room, turned and fled, the sound of quiet laughter echoing behind him.