Title: Something Wicked

Title of This Portion: Phantasm

Rating: R

Pairing: Willow/Snape, Willow/Voldemort (in a really icky way) Buffy/Harry, Hermione/Spike

Summary: Set during Book 7 of the Harry Potter series and after Season 7 of BtVS. Voldemort is intrigued by the prospect of Willow's power and hopes to use her to further his cause. Giles and Buffy are at loose ends since well, everyone, is a Slayer now. Dumbeldore believes that all of their talents might be utilized to stop the coming darkness.

Author's Note: I am so excited! I've written in both of these fandoms and now they're colliding! I was heavily inspired by Echo's masterpiece, A Drop in the Ocean, which is also a crossover fic. You can find it here:

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Willow wrapped her arms around herself as she carefully made her way through a graveyard. There was a creeping mist on the ground that slid up her jean-clad legs. Something just wasn't right and it wasn't the fact that she was walking through a cemetery. Being a card carrying member of the Scoobie Gang had given Willow a great deal of demon field experience. So, the scary setting didn't bother her but the crackle of powerful magic in the air did. Something was here. No, *someone*. The full moon was a pale oval in the blackened sky and it had an ominous but faint red ring around it. "Blood on the moon," Willow whispered.

"Blood on you," a voice said from behind.

Willow turned to see a handsome young man dressed in a sparkling midnight robe. His eyes were dark - they glittered with an otherworldly evil. His pale face was adorned with aristocratic features and framed by a shock of black hair. Willow could feel the power emanating him. It rolled off him in waves that nearly brought her to her knees. She could literally feel the aura of darkness that surrounded him. It beckoned to her, curling around her form like a serpent -- lethal and coldly beautiful. Willow had developed a taste for dark magic and he whet her appetite. While he was very threatening, she got the impression that he was not a threat to her, per se. In fact, the look in those black eyes was decidedly warm.

"I had no idea you would be so lovely. All that red hair," the man said, gazing at Willow. "The color of blood. . .of life."

"Who are you?" Willow breathed.

"The more important question is, who are you?"

"I know who I am," Willow said defensively. "Tell me who you are."

"Riddle. But I didn't' come here to talk about myself. I came here to awaken you."

"Riddle," she repeated. "Di you know me?"

"Nearly everything about you. I can *feel* you, my dear. I've been aware of you for years."

Willow could feel the pull of magic in her veins boiling to assert itself. She wasn't about to stand around while some supposed arch villain "bwahhahaaed" at her. She deserved some respect. She'd singlehandedly brought forth a bumper crop of Slayers and helped stop the destruction of humanity -- several times. "I'm Glinda with a side of whoop ass, okay? You don't want to mess with me."

"Yes, you're a servant of the light." The handsome young man chuckled again. "I know that but there's a wicked streak in you, girl. Why serve when you can rule the darkness?"

Willow had to admit she was fascinated by him. And his power. But who was he? How did he get so much magic? "Believe me, you wouldn't like the dark me. She's scary. She's veiny. And she still doesn't like men."

"I know the *real* you, Willow." His voice deepened. "And she and I are going to become much closer."

Willow backed away from him. "Fabulous. I haven't dated in months and who comes to hit on me? Black Magic Man."

He moved toward her, slowly sliding -- not walking over the grass. He stopped just in front of her and Willow found that she didn't want to move away ever again. He touched his hand to her cheek. "Goodnight, Willow. Sweet dreams."

And from his touch, came shadows. Willow could feel it seeping into her pores and pushing out all that was good and decent in her. It slid under her skin, rose up on her pale limbs and engulfed her hair and eyes in a magic so black, it was nearly fatal.

Willow's scream woke her up. She was relieved to find herself in her own bed but that didn't stop the chills that were spreading down her spine.

*********

Buffy knew she was dreaming and she knew why too. Slayer dreams felt different than the regular kind. She was always more awake and aware in them.

She hadn't had a Slayer dream in ages. Apparently, she was the only one still connected to the Powers that Be. When the Scoobies had unleashed the power of the Slayer it was diffused among the potentials and no one retained a link to the higher plane but herself. But why now? Something was brewing. Buffy had been feeling uneasy for days. There hadn't been any demon activity for weeks. That only happened when a Big Bad was about to crop up.

Buffy looked around and found herself in a dormitory. She peered at the stone walls that surrounded her and the red and gold banners on the wall. The ancient wooden floors under her feet creaked as she trod on them. "Trippy. Maybe its an evil castle." It didn't feel evil, though. There was a positive energy in the air, it almost reminded her of the sensation she got in Willow's bedroom after her friend did a spell. It was like being in an area after lightning struck - power always leaves a mark.

On the right, emblazoned upon a thick oak door were the words:"Head Boy."

Buffy frowned. "Woah. This better not be some kind of messed up sex dream." She gingerly pushed open the door to find a very handsome young man seated at a desk. He was peering into a marble bowl filled blue liquid. Buffy immediately pulled trusty old Mr. Pointy from her back pocket.

The young man whirled around and he was clutching a thin rod in his hand. "Who are you!?"

"I'm Buffy," she answered, thrusting her chin in the air. "The Vampire Slayer." God, she missed saying that!

He looked at her dazedly, seemingly bemused by the petite blond in jeans and a halter top. "I'm Harry Potter."

Buffy took a step closer. Didn't he know who she was? "You don't look like a vampire." She frowned. "Are you a vampire?"

"No, I'm a Wizard," Harry replied. She didn't know who he was?

"An evil one?"

"No, I'm a very good one." Harry winced at how snooty that sounded. "I have heard of Slayers though but you're so. . .so. . ."

"Intimidating?" Buffy said, brandishing her stake.

"Beautiful is the word I was going to use."

"So, is this your dream or mine?" Buffy asked, ignoring the compliment. Slayer dreams weren't for flirting!

"I think this might be a joint venture," Harry replied.

"Hmmm. I've only shared a Slayer dream with another Slayer. What do you think this means?" Buffy asked.

"That the world is going to end?" Harry proposed.

"Oh, I thought it was something serious."

**********

Xander Harris knew he was being watched. He didn't know how he knew but he knew. He hurried along the street, anxious to make it to his apartment. What possessed him to go walking around at night by himself anyway? Years of living in Sunnydale had cured him of any desire to do so. He'd gotten sloppy since he moved away from the Hellmouth.

"That's what you do best, isn't it? Run away from me."

Xander gasped as the transparent form of his former fiancé hovered before him, just over the pavement. She was still dressed in the clothes she died in. "Anya!" Xander's eyes' pooled with tears.

"Listen, Xander, there isn't a lot of time. I'm not even supposed to be here!"

"But where have you been?" Xander asked desperately. Is it a good place? Are you safe? Are you-"

Anya's featured softened. "I'm fine, Xander. It's a good place. " She grinned. "Plenty of- never mind. You'll find out later...much later! Right now, you need to pay attention."

"To what? What's wrong? Is it Buffy?"

"Is she all you think about? No, it isn't about Buffy. It's about a guy named Harry Potter. He lives-"

"Harry Potter? Is this some Cordelia-eque Vision Girl thing? Because I'm not equipped to be a champion or whatever they're calling it these days."

"Mouth closed and ears open, Xander Harris!" Anya said, stamping her insubstantial foot. "There's going to be an Apocalypse."

"I really hate Tuesdays."

*************

Rupert Giles sat before his fireplace with a ballooned glass of brandy in his hand. He couldn't ever remember feeling this relaxed. Giles had helped Buffy defeat The First and, in doing so, unleashed the Slayer's power to all potentials in the world, thereby freeing Buffy and himself of their duties. For once, the fate of the world didn't rest in their hands and Giles had been enjoying a restful early retirement ever since. Of course, he'd helped round up the newly made Slayers and helped the battered remnants of the Watcher's Council reform under the new management of Wesley Wyndam Price. The former Watcher had decided to leave Angel and Los Angeles behind in order to reform the Council. Rupert had taken his severance pay and settled himself in a comfortable London flat for some well-deserved relaxation.

Giles still kept in touch with Buffy, Willow, and Xander. He made weekly phone calls to them. Buffy and Willow had moved to Massachusetts earlier this year with Dawn when she was granted early acceptance to Harvard. Buffy had finished her education at a nearby community college in California and was a social worker at a local middle school. Willow was pursuing a Master's degree in English at Harvard. Xander lived in nearby Concord. He owned his own construction business.

Giles took a sip of his brandy. Yes, they had all moved on. He was blissfully unaware of what was *really* going on and that brought a measure of peace. The world was always about to end and he was glad he wouldn't be mounting an effort to stop it. It felt wonderful to finally have a Tuesday night free. Truthfully, a small Ripperesque part of him missed the danger, but he brushed that voice aside. A far larger portion longed for a chance to make a difference. Giles wasn't sure to do with that particular need. A librarian hardly ever affected another person's life.

Just then, a brilliant light cascaded across the room. Giles fell back against the chair as he was blinded by the fiery blast of green light.

The fireplace roared and the flames grew larger before a lone figure materialized within them. With a shout, Giles released his glass where it busted into fifty different pieces.

The man calmly stepped out of the fire and brushed some soot from his shoulders with a disgusted sigh. "Hello, Rupert."

"Severus?!" Giles replied in bewilderment.

The man continued to brush at his elaborate black robes. "You'd think someone would invent a cleaner burning flu powder."

Giles was instantly on guard. He was on his feet and had a shard of the glass in his hands before Severus could come any closer. The last time he'd seen this man he had been merrily torturing people for sport.

"If I really wanted to kill you, Rupert, would I have announced my presence? No, I would have waved my wand and you'd be dead."

"Still practicing the dark arts?"

"No, I neither practice nor teach them, I'm afraid." Severus smiled coldly. "That shall be your job."

"Now your recruiting followers for that madman?" Giles said, twisting his lips.

"A lot has changed," Snape admitted with a lengthy sigh. "Can we sit and at least pretend to be civilized?" He indicated the chairs with an elegant brush of his hand.

Giles sat down warily. "Of course." He didn't want to fight Snape if he didn't have to. The man had been very powerful wizard in his twenties, he didn't even want to hazard a guess as to his strength twenty some years later.

"I'm no longer a follower of Lord Voldemort," Snape began.

Rupert snorted. "You expect me to believe that? Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Dark magic leaves a mark that-"

Snape raised the sleeve of the other man's left arm. "Yes it does, Rupert. I believe you, too, bear your own symbol of stupidity."

Giles could have sworn he felt the Mark of Eyghon tingle. It, too, was situated on his left forearm. "I suppose I do but I gave up magic. I decided to not-"

"You can't turn your back on it, Rupert. You've only succeeded in ignoring it," Snape snapped. "It will be within you until the day that you die. You should have stayed at Hogwarts and learned how to control it. Perhaps, then, you wouldn't have fallen in with the wrong--"

"Ah, yes, because that worked *so* well for you. Every single one of our little group ended up being Death Eaters except for me," Rupert reminded him. "Besides, that wasn't where my path lay. I belonged at the Watcher's Council. "

"When all else fails, follow in dear old dad's footsteps, eh?" Severus said lazily.

Giles frowned. "Looking back on it, I shouldn't have defied my father's wishes and attended Hogwarts. I did it out of spite, not from any true desire to learn magic or

become a wizard. I'm a Watcher!"

"Were. And you did a bang up job of it, haven't you?" Severus drawled. "Let me see, your Slayer died. Twice. She decided to activate all the potential Slayers, thereby diluting their strength and their psychic connection. The boy lost an eye. The 'good' vampire ended up dying and taking the entire town with him. And the girl. She-"

"You leave Willow out of this," Giles snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

"By the way, using the coven's magic to cloak her from us was very clever, Rupert. Well, we *felt* her presence. Albus was afraid Voldemort had risen to full strength. None of us have ever felt anything like it."

"No,"Giles said. "I imagine not." Truthfully, Willow had terrified him. She had been close to losing her very soul. "She's a very clever girl and she has learned to control it. She didn't belong in that hell hole of a prison!"

"She broke the Ministry's rules, Rupert. There are. . .penalties for such actions."

"I see you haven't been given a Kiss," Rupert said dryly.

"I have reformed," Severus said uncomfortably.

"To save your own hide, no doubt."

"You know nothing about me," Snape chided. "Don't presume to lecture me on-"

"Well, you obviously know a lot about me. Then again, that's what your good at, isn't it, Severus? Sticking your rather substantial nose in where it doesn't belong," Giles sniffed. "I can't believe the Ministry would have the nerve to spy on us!"

"Don't we have an inflated view of our self?" Snape crowed. "*I've* been keeping tabs on you, not the Ministry of Magic. They have much more important things to do that track down a recalcitrant former student."

"As much as I've enjoyed this death march down memory lane, I find that I'm very tired. Kindly tell me why you're here so I can say 'no' and shove you back into the fire place." Rupert said with irritation. "I *do* have a life to get back to."

"No, you don't," Snape contradicted with a derisive smile.

"Well?" Giles growled.

"I'm here to offer you a job."

************

Hermione Granger rinsed the shampoo from her hair as she methodically made a mental list of the books she planned to retrieve from Flourish and Blotts on her next visit. She was working in a particularly difficult Senior Potions Project and needed some resource materials. She cast a glare in the general direction of the mermaid as she stepped out of the shower. The offensive creature merely giggled and jumped back into the sparkling pool in the painting. She hated the feeling that she was being watched every time she used the prefect's bathroom.

She was reaching for a warm terry cloth towel when a soft popping sound caught her attention.

"Bloody hell!"

Hermione blinked, hardly daring to believe her eyes. There, before her eyes, stood a man with spiked blond hair. He was draped in a black leather trench coat and had the most bewildered expression on his face.

That puzzled expression quickly gave way to a sly one. "Is this heaven, then? I expected it to be much less. . .naked." His tone implied that he wasn't a bit disappointed.

"Ack!" Hermione quickly threw on her towel and managed to form fearsome expression. "Who are you!?"

"Spike, luv. And who might you be?" He was busily scanning her body. "An angel?"

Hermione scowled. "No, I'm not an angel, I'm a prefect! And this isn't heaven, this is the ladies' bathroom!"

"Great!" Spike said, rolling his eyes. "I put my undead ass on the line to save humanity and where do I end up? The bloody loo!"

Hermione scurried over to her clothes and pulled her wand out of the neatly folded garments. She aimed it at him. "Explain yourself!"

Spike held up his hands. "There's no need to be stakin' me. I'm a bloody hero, I am. Got roasted and toasted saving the planet, I did. Fightin' beside the Slayer."

Hermione connected the word 'stake' to 'vampire' and didn't' care to hear the rest of his story. "Stupefy!" She was stunned to see that it passed straight through him and hit the wall, scorching it.

"What the bloody--"

"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted once more. Once again, the wall received a scorch mark.

Stunned blue eyes met her angry brown. "I'm a ghost!"

"Brilliant! Just what the castle needs -- another ghost!" Hermione muttered to herself. "Figures! I thought I'd at least be without paranormal company in the bathroom my last year."

"You're pitching a fit about your privacy? I'm the one in the middle of a bloody nightmare!"

*******

Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk. His fingers were steepled and he surveyed the portraits of those who'd come before him. Many Wizards assumed that he had all the answers - that he just *knew* how a situation would turn out. Dumbledore had inklings about situations but he never saw the entire picture until all was said and done. He hoped he was doing the right thing.

"They're coming by. . .plane," Professor Snape said with a smirk. "How quaint."

"They may be well-versed in the darker side of our world, Severus, but most of them are still Muggles. I should think a floo ride would prove very frightening."

Severus rolled his eyes. "They lived on a Hellmouth for pity's sake."

It was Severus' suggestion that the self-proclaimed Scooby Gang be brought in on this particular battle with Voldemort. They all knew it was the most important because it was the last. Professor Dumbledore had warmed to the idea immediately. Young Mr. Potter was starting to show signs of battle fatigue. He needed the extra help from any source.

"Yes, but the Wizarding world is a shock for anyone." Dumbledore focused on the darkening sky outside his window. " Let's just hope that their assistance will be enough to turn the tide."

Note 1: "Blood on the moon." Okay, I blatantly stole this line from Practical Magic.