Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and Harry Potter characters are the property of their original owners.
“So, you’re the kid who’s gonna die, huh?”
” yelped Harry, staring in absolute shock at the young woman seated across him on the other sofa in the drawing room of the New Council’s London headquarters. The fact that this female introduced to him just minutes earlier as ‘Buffy Summers’ was continuously fondling the enormous axe resting in her lap had been Harry’s main focus of attention until that casual remark.
This…Buffy person enthusiastically nodded, with the crazed gleam in her eyes deepening every moment. She added, “Oh, yeah, Wils did her mojo and got the prophecy out of -- where’d she say it was, the Ministry of Magic or something like that -- without any trouble at all. Of course, she couldn’t help doing a few little checks to make sure she had the right one. Boy, was Wils surprised to learn that it could’ve applied to three hundred and sixteen kids in your whole weirdo wizarding world instead of just you. But, hey, great job of stepping up to the plate and agreeing to sacrifice your life, fella!”
Harry’s mouth worked silently, until he managed a gabbled, “I didn’t-- What are you--”
He was interrupted by Buffy’s helpful, “Oh, don’t worry! Before the big showdown, you can have lots of fun going after your Big Bad’s minions. I mean, if nobody but you can kill him and nobody but him can kill you, who else is gonna be able to hurt you? That’s exactly the kind of thing rocket launchers were invented for! We got lots of ’em here, of course. Xander made sure of that right away, and he’ll train you up to his standards.”
“Rocket launchers….” gurgled Harry, his mind flashing to the occasional glimpses he’d had over the years of the action movie videotapes both Vernon and Dudley were devoted fans about, especially the ones with the maximum possible number of explosions.
Buffy shrugged while idly testing the edge of her axe with a thumb. A slow grin developed on this lady’s pretty face, which soon revealed as many sharp teeth as Harry remembered from his long-ago fight with the Hogwarts basilisk. “Yeah, they’re fine for long distance maiming, but me, I like to get up close and personal with the Scythe.”
She shot a thoughtful gaze at where her visitor was hunching down into his seat, to then firmly tell him, “We can get back to that. There’s something else you need to do while you’re thinning the crop of those wand-waving morons in their stupid scary masks. Now, tell Auntie Buffy the honest truth: are you a virgin?“
Harry’s brain melted.
From a faraway distance, he heard a satisfied voice, “Yeah, that’s what I figured. You’re already past the age of consent for here the last couple of weeks now, so go wild! From what I hear, there’s a whole castle full of witches panting for you, all of ’em more than willing to shuck their robes and give you one hell of a send-off if you play it right. See, us girls like bad boys, and when you combine that with them bravely fighting the good fight, well, it’s panties-dropping time! I’m speaking from personal experiences here, okay? My
first time, I slept with a vampire, though I kinda wasn’t prepared for him going all evil-ly after that. Come to think of it, a couple of years later, he had a kid with another vamp, and, oh, yeah, he basically forgot all about one of his girlfriends who went into a coma and died. There’s also my second vamp lover, who didn’t take no for an answer when he made a pass. I wasn’t exactly thinking things through then, what with coming back from the dead and all that, so we had lots of hot sex, anyway. You know, the bastard still cheated on me with Anya and Harmony and even the Buffybot!”
Looking indignant due to her recent irksome memories, Buffy paused to peer across the room at the kid with the messy hair and those wonderful green eyes now more than a trifle glazed over. He was obviously thinking deeply about what she’d just said, which made Buffy genuinely proud of herself. When Giles had yesterday asked his former charge to have a little chat with some other poor schmuck hit with the prophecy stick, Buffy hadn’t expected meeting such a nice young man. It made her really happy that she could take all the badness in her Slayer life and use it to give this Harry-dude some helpful advice on how to deal with the whole upcoming dumb situation.
Inwardly beaming at how good she was at this counseling stuff ever since her stint at Sunnydale High, Buffy cleared her throat. When that didn’t distract Harry’s attention from his profoundly pensive mood, the superhuman female extended her mystical weapon across the space separating the two sofas to gently prod her visitor on his chest with the pointed blade tip of the Scythe.
Once she was sure Harry was listening again, Buffy went on to explain to the cowering youth, “Now, let’s talk about the dying part, and the chance you’ll survive anyhow in some sort of resurrection deal. Play your cards right, and you can milk it for just about whatever comes to mind. Me, I’ve been guilting the Scoobies into giving me extra-special prezzies every time my birthday and Christmas come around…”
About a half-hour later, Headmaster Dumbledore looked up from his teacup at the opening of the door to the drawing room where young Harry had been having his private discussion with the Queen Slayer. Sharing the small table in the anteroom with him, Hermione Granger also brightened at seeing her best friend coming through the door. It’d been a real surprise to this girl when Harry had stubbornly insisted she accompany him and Dumbledore from Hogwarts to London. Given the recent strained relationship among Harry and the headmaster, Hermione thought she was perhaps here to be a buffer to prevent a possible row between the pair of wizards.
Not that she minded being with Harry for any reason at all. Particularly when that red-haired pillock known as Ron Weasley was ducking into every broom closet in the castle with Lavender Brown. Even more important, Hermione was getting a chance to observe at first-hand the New Council and the incredible young women known as Slayers during their visit to that organization’s London headquarters. Smiling at Harry, Hermione’s pleasure abruptly faded at seeing how thunderous her friend’s face now appeared.
Dumblefore was also suddenly wary at Harry’s obviously angry mood. Rising from his seat without noticing Hermione also did this, Dumbledore began regretting his latest scheme to get the New Council’s assistance in combating Voldemort and the Death Eaters by introducing Harry in person to the other young people high up in this supernatural group. Deciding to play it safe, the elderly wizard risked, “Harry, is something wrong--?”
Even if he’d never thought so at the time, there were definite advantages being Dudley’s punching bag for a good many years at the Privet Drive house. Harry now showed just how much he’d learned by stopping to stand in front of Dumbledore and giving that manipulative old sod a devastating right cross.
With the sound of crunching bone, Dumbledore’s nose got squashed flat, and the resulting follow-through knocked him entirely unconscious. Limply falling to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud!,
this wizard responsible for ruining Harry’s entire childhood didn’t wake up until a good hour later, when it was all over.
Her mouth wide open in pure disbelief, Hermione had this part of her body swiftly covered with Harry’s lips when he stepped over an out-cold headmaster to throw his arms around a truly loyal friend in a crushing embrace along with the most fervent kiss of their entire lives. Two minutes afterwards, a foolishly-smiling Hermione followed after Harry tugging her along by their tightly-gripped hands. They soon came outside the building by the New Council’s gated entrance. Once on the sidewalk, a wizard and a witch took the first bus away in a much more happier ending than for The Graduate.
In a whirl of action, Harry and Hermione called Dobby from Hogwarts, apparated to Gringotts to make arrangements for emigrating to America, collected the entire Potter fortune plus the Black riches bestowed by Sirius to his godson, and boarded the next scheduled international flight to New York with Hermione’s parents.
The wedding was held two days later at Salem, Massachusetts, under the laws of the wizarding community there. Neither the bride nor the groom, in all their decades of married life, ever returned to Great Britain. Though, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were always warmly welcomed when this other couple paid annual visits to their friends in the United States.
Ronald Weasley had six daughters with Lavender Weasley, and he was always glad to take overtime at his brothers’ joke shop in order to avoid going home to a houseful of redheaded women with tempers to match.
Albus Dumbledore died of a stroke the day after he heard about the defeat of Lord Voldemort the next month. Especially humiliating had been a very grouchy compliant by the Queen Slayer right after chopping off the head of Mr. Snake-face, “Harry Popper, he turned out to just be another typical guy, always making the woman do all the hard work!”