Disclaimer: I own no intellectual property belonging to JK Rowling or Joss Whedon.

1st Year

"Anything interesting?" the dark haired man asked, as his wife read a note sent with an owl of all things.

"Hermione got into a fight with a troll," the woman said with a frown, her own locks of hair matching the color but lacking the curl her daughter's hair had.

"I thought they didn't have computers at that Hogwarts place," he said with a frown.

"A magical troll dear," she corrected him.

"Isn't she a bit young to be facing trolls?" he asked concerned, looking up from the paper he was reading.

"Which is why they sent a letter," she explained. "It was some kind of cock up, she's fine, just shaken up a bit."

"Put me against a troll at age eleven and I'd be shook up too," the man muttered. "I didn't face my first troll until I was nearly twenty."

The woman rolled her eyes.

"What do you think we should do?" he asked, knowing his first impulse, which was to reduce Hogwarts to rubble, was probably a tad much.

"Wait and see what she says," she replied. "She seems a bit happier in a magical school, rather than a mundane one, but this might make her change her mind."

"Fine, but I reserve the right to send a nasty letter to the school."

After Christmas Hols

"She's hiding stuff," he said with a heavy sigh.

"She's got friends now and is afraid we'd pull her from school, so she's sweeping everything under the rug she can."

"I didn't think I'd have to deal with her lying and sneaking around until she was a teen," he admitted sadly.

She hugged him tightly. "It's just a phase, she'll always be our little girl."

2nd Year

"What now?" he asked.

"Apparently, she's been turned to stone through unknown means and they can't restore her for a month or three."

"She could use the rest," he said. "Even willow wasn't so driven in school."

"She would have been in a magic school."


Year Three

"We need to sign a permission slip," she announced.

"What for?" he asked.

"So our daughter can violate time like it's a two bit whore."

He raised an eyebrow.

"No, seriously. They have an item called a time-turner that would allow her to add a few more hours to her day so she could take every class offered."

"That's a quick way to burn out."

"I think that's the point, better a small breakdown now than a large one later."

"And, here I thought they were all idiots. Pass it to me, and I'll sign."

Year Four

"Dear, remind me again; why have I not destroyed major sections of the Magical World?" he asked, a white knuckled grip on the paper in front of him.

"Because our daughter likes the magical world," she replied, holding out a hand for the paper, which he dutifully handed over. After a few minutes, she folded up the paper and set it down. "Harry reminds me a lot of you."

"Are you trying to distract me?" he asked.

"I'm just saying, his mother was a red-head and got pregnant around the time I gave birth to our daughter."

"I admit that I got so plastered I lost a week when Hermione was born," he admitted. "However, Harry looks so much like his father it's ridiculous."

"Polyjuice," she pointed out. "That would make the biological father her husband and magically reinforce his features so he'd look like James. However, his soul would be a product of yours, Romeo."

"That makes a disturbing amount of sense," he admitted. "Except, he has yet to blow up his school or set the school on fire."

"It took you a few years to get that far."

"You make some very good points, but I have to ask; are you being serious, or trying to distract me?"

"I was trying to distract you, but honestly, it would explain a lot."

"I seriously doubt it, but I won't say it's impossible. How do you figure something like that would happen?"

"Pureblood inbreeding has caused a lot of problems, but using polyjuice on someone just affects the physical characteristics (as polyjuice has been used to impersonate muggles without affecting their magic) which would correct that."

"And, when drunk, I tend to light my cigs by snapping my fingers," he admitted.

"So, a pureblood family would go straight for you to continue their line."

"So, I was slipped a magical mickey so I wouldn't remember anything?"

"Even with the stress of Hermione's birth, you getting drunk enough to lose a week was out of character for you."

"I'm not telling her that Harry may be her brother," he said. "You'd need to compare souls to tell anyway, and the wizarding world she's joined is backwards enough to consider such spells evil."

"Fine, we'll leave it alone unless it looks like they're getting married or something."


Year Five

"Voldemort's back, wanna kill him?" he asked hopefully.

"No interference, remember?" she said firmly.

"I know," he replied with a sigh.

"Our daughter is growing up, you have to let her do some things for herself."

"I know, and she's older and better prepared than either of us were when we started saving the world, I just worry."

"That's because you're a good father."

Year Six

"They interfered in the mail all year, and our daughter received her first serious wound," he said calmly. "Can I torch the wizarding world now?"

"They just got the problem out in the open and can no longer deny it," she replied. "We only step in if the bad guys take over. And, they just lost one of their largest assets, deniability."

"Fine," he said with a sigh.

Year Seven

He blinked and looked at his wife Monica...err Dawn as she enjoyed the beach. "I think we have a problem."

Dawn blinked a few times and looked around. "We're on a beach in Australia with a fake set of memories, yes this is a problem."

"This is not a spur of the moment action," he said, shaking his head sadly.

"I'm grounding her until she's thirty or a hundred and thirty," Dawn decided. "Depends on her reasons."

"Considering she called us helpless muggles while crying her eyes out, I'm going to have to guess she was corrupted by the wizarding world," Xander said. "Now, can I set it on fire?"

"Even if it was our own daughter, we were technically attacked by the wizarding world," Dawn said. "We are now free to act."

A ring of emerald flames rose around them and they vanished, leaving a ten foot circle of melted glass in the sand and yet another tale of spontaneous human combustion to hit the tabloids.

AN: Typing by Lucilla!