Visions! Visions! Visions!

Disclaimer:  Harry Potter, Charmed, Buffy the

Vampire Slayer & Angel are properties of JK Rowling, Aaron

Spelling & Joss Whedon.  Except for the occasional 'original character'

that might crop up every now and then.  I don't own any rights to the aforementioned

titles or its characters, I am merely borrowing them to cure this nagging plot

bunny in my head.



Summary:  Future Wyatt Halliwell concocted a time

traveling spell and returned to 2003.  Lord Voldemort was defeated in 1998

by Harry Potter, but he never really died.  A mystical being and the spawn

of the damned plays an important role in Voldemort and Wyatt's rise to power.



PhoenixRae's Notes:  I know this is gonna be a heckuva

crazy plot bunny to wrestle with, but please bear with me as this is my first

ever crossover fic that I am working on.  I am keeping with the current

timeline here hence the 2003 time travel by Wyatt. *grins*  If any of you

watched the above-mentioned shows, you will know that the 2003-2004 season is

the series finale for Buffy, 'Chris' became a regular on

Charmed & 'Cordelia' became a higher being only to return back to earth

to help her champion in Angel.  But I can't promise to stick

with the plotlines that happened that season for these three shows.  The

Harry Potter kids won't be kids anymore; they'll be in their 20s

already and...well, yeah, just stick with me on this one, please? *smiles



I.  Visions, Visions, Visions!



San Francisco, CA



IT WAS A DAY JUST LIKE ANY OTHER day in the Halliwell Manor. 



Piper was busy doing the laundry while Paige was on baby-sitting duty with

Wyatt.  Piper was still a bit miffed at Leo for what he did to her over the

summer, making her not feel the pain of losing him when he was appointed an

Elder, but she was managing.  After all she had Wyatt to think about. 

Her sisters were great help.  Well, Paige was mostly the one who ended up

babysitting her nephew, but she doesn't seem to mind.  Phoebe, meanwhile,

was busy getting ready for work upstairs.  She was running late, as usual,

and was making quite a racket.



Paige glared up at the ceiling when she heard Phoebe's hurried footfalls. 

Honestly when will her sister learn to use an alarm clock?



"Is that Phoebe running late again?" Piper appeared on the laundry room

doorway with a clothes hamper clutched against her hip.



Paige looked up from changing her nephew's diaper.  The redhead's look

answered Piper's question.  Ever since the whole Cole episode their middle

sister's been on the fritz.



"I swear I'm gonna put a gong on her side table," threatened Paige. 

She finished putting Wyatt's diaper on and lifted him into her arms. 

"Either that or she needs to get it on with that Jason Dean dude at

work."  She added.



Piper cocked an eyebrow and set the hamper on the counter.  "I think

she'll need more than just a quickie with the boss," she commented and reached

out her arms for her son.  Wyatt willingly went to his mother's

outstretched arms .



"I second that," Paige agreed and handed Wyatt back to his mother.  "But

I think our Phoebe's having some anxiety."



"I am not!" A frazzled Phoebe breezed into the kitchen and made a beeline for

the coffee machine.  "Is this fresh?"  She asked but didn't wait for

an answer before pouring herself a cup.  She lifted her mug up to her nose

and inhaled the scent of freshly brewed coffee.  "Mmm...heaven," she cooed

before taking a big sip.



Piper, with Wyatt in her arms, and Paige stepped back and watched their other

sister hunt around the kitchen in search of food to go down with the coffee. 

The sisters exchanged looks but didn't say anything.  Phoebe, meanwhile,

lifted covers and opened cupboards in search of muffins, cookies, sandwich or

anything she can eat.  She was on an eat-and-run mode and couldn't afford

to be late.  Elise wouldn't be at all too pleased with her tardiness. 

Lately she'd been lacking the spirit to jump up and off the bed and head off to

work.



"Oooh, muffin!" She exclaimed like a giddy six-year-old when she saw the last

apple bran muffin and dibbed it.  Munching on her muffin while sipping her

coffee, she savored the feeling as the warm, dark liquid slid down her almost

parched throat.  In four bites the muffin was gone, her coffee cup empty

and she placed the dirty cup in the sink.  "OK, I'm off!"  She

announced and rounded the counter island table to plant a goodbye kiss to her

nephew.  "See you later, sweetie."  She kissed Wyatt on his forehead.



And that was when it happened.



Phoebe took a sharp intake of breath and was sucked into another one of her

visions.  It barely made sense to her.  All she saw were blurry

snippets and laser-like colours being aimed at each other.  Chaos ran amok

and in the middle of it were five beings; one an ugly, snake-like man with a

much younger and stronger man beside him.  There were three other people with

them, a young girl and boy, and the fifth person was...Phoebe sucked in a

deep breath when she recognized the face of the fifth person being held at the

throat by the younger man beside Snakeman. 



And then her vision stopped.



"Phebes?"  Paige and Piper were looking at their sister questioningly. 

They knew what just happened to her.  She had a vision, and if it was

triggered when she kissed Wyatt, then they could bet their bottom dollar Wyatt

was involved.



When Phoebe opened her eyes she was staring wildly at her nephew, then her

glazed dark brown gaze moved from Wyatt to her two sisters.



"We need to call Chris and Leo," she deadpanned.





Los Angeles, CA



CORDELIA CHASE DROPPED THE VASE she was puttering with in the Hyperion's lobby. 

The not-so-expensive vase fell from her suddenly limp hands.  Its shattering sound alerted everyone

within earshot to some imminent danger.



But there wasn't any danger to worry about, except for the fact that she was assaulted by yet another

mind-splitting vision.  This time the vision came in blurred snapshots. 

A dark, crowded place.  Laser lights, like those lightsabers used in

Star Wars were being aimed at one another.  Lots of screaming. 

There was a blond; three brunettes who looked alike -- probably sisters --; an

older man with long, white beard; a young man with a scar on his forehead; there

were five figures in the middle of this whole mess as well.  A man in

probably his late twenties was holding a younger man who looked a bit like him

-- brothers perhaps? -- by his throat.  He was choking him!  And the

other figure, a hooded man with a butt-ugly face was holding two figures in each

hand; a girl and a boy.  They both looked familiar.



Cordelia tried to focus her gaze on those two.  Something about the

long, dark brown haired girl and the other dark brown haired boy was very

familiar.  The hooded figure turned the faces of his two captives just a

slight bit and...



"Oh my God!"  Cordelia gasped out loud.  She was slumped

against the circular couch in the Hyperion's lobby surrounded by the gang who

were all anxiously looking at her.



"Cordy, are you okay?"  Angel asked worriedly.  He was beside her

in a flash, an arm around her waist helping her up.



Still feeling a bit wobbly after that whopper of a vision she just had,

Cordelia managed to steady herself and put all her weight against the man beside

her.  "I...I don't think so."  She shook her head firmly, willing

herself to shake off that vision, but she couldn't.  She lifted her gaze

and looked at the faces of the people surrounding her.  But she was in

search of one person's face in particular.  That boy in her vision that was

being choked with the girl.



She found him standing separated from the crowd, his scowl as dark as his

father's.  He was watching her with those intense dark eyes.



"Oh Connor," she sighed and looked forlornly at the teenager.  She

snapped her attention back to the tall, dark, and brooding man beside her and

announced, "We need to contact Wesley."







Sunnydale, CA



BUFFY SAT BOLT UP FROM WHERE SHE fell asleep on the couch in their living

room.  She just had the weirdest dream that gave her the wiggins.  It

was different from her previous dreams that warned her of what was to come. 

She was in a dark place, people screaming and shooting laser lights, colourful

laser lights, at one another.  Amidst the chaos five distinct figures were

present.  One man was choking another man to death while the other figure,

an older, scary looking hooded man had his hands wrapped tightly around two

teenagers' necks: a boy and a girl.  Buffy was standing behind the hooded

figure and peered over his shoulder.  It was when she saw the girl's face

the man was choking that she instantly kicked her leg up and sliced her arm at

the back of the evil hooded figure.



She scanned the empty living room, her ears pricked at the slightest sound. 

She heard movements and some chattering happening in the kitchen.  Three

welcoming female faces looked up from the baking that was happening and regarded

her oddly.



"Anything wrong, Buffy?"  asked Willow, her best friend since she moved

to Sunnydale.





"You look troubled, Buff," commented her sister, Dawn.



Faith, the other slayer who'd been through hell and back with Buffy, frowned

and cocked her head to the side.  She can pretty much tell what the other

slayer was thinking about and what could ever possibly be going through her mind

at the moment.



"We need to kick some serious ass again, don't we, B?"



Buffy met the brunette slayer's gaze and held it for the longest time. 

God, she hated it when Faith knew what she was thinking.



"Round up the gang.  We're going on a trip."



"Now?"  Willow and Dawn asked in unison, each looking at each other in

alarm.



"Yes, now."  Buffy crossed the space between them and walked up

to Faith, "Are you ready for some serious ass kicking, Faith?"



The brunette slayer's upper lip twitched into what could only be interpreted

as a maniacal grin.





London, England



HARRY POTTER WOKE UP WITH A JOLT FROM where he fell asleep in his chair. 

He did a quick scan of the room and was relieved to find himself still in his

cubicle on Level Two inside the Ministry of Magic office.  People were

buzzing about here and there, going about their business as usual, while he

obviously dozed off from too much work he had been putting himself to.  He

needed a break.  He knew he did, but after spending years staying on alert

just in case a surprise attack on his person was forged by the late Dark Lord,

he had a hard time slowing down and taking things lightly.



Nothing looked like it was amiss in the office -- except for the burning

sensation on his forehead where his scar, the sole remnant of the now defeated

Voldemort, was burning a hole through his skull.  That was what

jolted him awake.  He pressed the heel of his hand against it in the hopes

of stopping the pain, but it was to no avail.  The damn thing was driving

him nuts!



"Harry, are you okay mate?"  Ron Weasley, his best friend and fellow

Auror, poked his bright red head into Harry's mediocre-sized office space.



"I don't think so, Ron," hissed Harry, his green eyes screwed-up tightly as

he waited for the pain to go away.  "My scar...it's burning."



If it was possible to dislocate your jaw and have it fall on the ground that

would've been the case with Ron.  He stepped in to his partner's office

immediately.  After over twelve years Ron knew what that burning scar

feeling meant.



"Harry are-are you sure?"  His voice cracked like he was back in his

puberty years.  "You're not just pulling my leg here or something, are

you?"



Harry understood his friend's reluctance to believe his scar was acting up

again.  Voldemort was defeated for the umpteenth time five years ago. 

They all saw his sorry arse burst to flames during their final confrontation. 

But that didn't stop Harry from glaring at his best mate.  His scar was

giving him a splitting headache and Ron was too damn busy getting scared over

something that might not even be true.  But deep down inside Harry had a

gut-feeling he was only kidding himself.  This scar had been imbedded on

his damned forehead for twenty-two years now, he ought to know what it meant by

now!



"Ron, would I be joking about this if my head feels like it's being split

apart?"  He snapped, gritting his teeth as the pain intensifies.  "Dammit. 

We need to talk to the Minister," he announced and pushed himself off his chair.



Ron ambled out of Harry's office and followed his friend to the Minister of

Magic's office.





To Be Continued...