Harry Potter and the Encounter of Buffy Summers

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy Summers belongs to Joss Whedon and all things related to Harry Potter belong to J.K.Rowling. Pictures taken from Screencap Paradise.

You'll recognize some of the dialog from Harry Potter and the Goblet of fire. Until the mistake with the porkey, all dialog belongs too the creator of the movie.
----------------------------------------------------------------------

This isn't much. Just a little something I put together after I finished editing Harry Winchester chapter 22. :) Hope you like it.

Summary: On the way to they're way to the Quidditch World Cup, something draws the Weasley's and company to the Hellmouth where they are awaited by a broken hearted Buffy Summers.

Time line: During Harry's Fourth Year and the very end of Becoming Part 2.

Authors Note: If after reading this chapter, you feel as though you would wish to expand this I welcome you to. Just link here, and let me know so I can read it too. I thought this would be an interesting plot and it was really just to keep the banner page from looking so bare but I went a little over board. Oh well. Anyway, the banners will be first, then the drabble/fic.
With Text



With out Text


They’d been walking for a bout five minutes when Harry finally realized he hadn’t a clue where they were going. Ron walked beside him in the plain, long, vast grassland which rested on a hill. Not too far behind him Hermione and Ginny walked, glancing at each other every so often. Fred and Gorge were at the top with Arthur and his friend Amos who incidentally was Cedric’s father. Harry looked at Ron and spoke the question on his mind, long jet black hair in his eyes. He’d needed to cut it for a while.

“Where are we going?” he inquired of his friend. Ron’s hair had grown out too, he wore muggle clothing that looked rather worn out. Then again, Ron was a Weasley, out-worn clothing was apart of their charm.

“Don’t know.” Ron replied, then turned to where his dad stood, way in the front.

“Hey dad! Where are we going?”

“Haven’t the foggiest clue.” Arthur replied, one hand atop his hat so as to keep it from flying away from the non-existent wind. “Keep up now, wouldn’t want you to get left behind!”

“Arthur!” This new man was a particularly short person with long, curley blonde hair that went too his shoulders. His face was round and he had a very skinny nose. “It’s about time son.” The man called.

“Sorry Amos. Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start. This is Amos Diggory everyone, he works with me at the ministry.” Arthur turned to the others and they all stopped, watching the new comer with curiosity. “and this strapping young lad must be Cedric?” This to the tallest of the three men, a seventh year Hufflepuff who had tagged along with his father and the Weasley’s. He was a handsome young fellow, with hallow cheeks, dark eyes and pale white skin, like his fathers.

“Yes sir.” Replied the boy.

“Merlin’s beard!” Amos cried suddenly, turning to the youngest of the Weasley clan, Ron and Harry. “You must be Harry Potter!”

Harry sighed, wishing, not for the first time, that he were someone else. “Yes sir, this way.”

“it’s a great pleasure!” Amos said, voice filled with excitement as he reached out to shake Harry’s hand. He was positively gleeful as they did so.

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes, “Pleasure to meet you as well sir.”


They passed the clearing into a nest of trees and walked onwords for about fifteen more minutes until Arthur finally spoke up again.

“That’s it sir, just over there.”

Amos nodded, “Ah yes, shall we? We don’t want to be late.”

They approached a small object, which, as they came into view of the thing seemed to be nothing but a small, beat up old boot. The sun gave off a yellow glow as Harry looked on confusingly as the rest of the wizards gathered around the boot.

“Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?” Harry asked, turning to Ron.

Instead of his friend answering however, it was Fred who supplied him with the knowledge.

“That isn't just any old manky boot mate—“ as always, it was George who ended the sentence, “It’s a portkey.”

The circle of wizards and a few witches were now circled around the boot and held on tightly to the object.

Amos spoke clearly, “Time to go. Ready?”

Harry was indeed, not ready. “What's a 'portkey'?” The poor boy was ignored as Amos began counting, “After three,” said the fellow, “One, two…”

Arthur spotted Harry, who still had not grasped the boot.
“HARRY!” He shouted and Harry had no choice but too rush over and do as the others instructed. His hand reached the portkey’s leather just as Amos shouted the word “Three!”

There was a white flash, and the crowd was sent flying through the air.

“Let go kids!” Arthur instructed after a second or two.

“WHAT?!” Hermione shrieked, sounding like a frightened rabbit about to be eaten by a fox.

“Let! GO!” Arthur shouted.

Harry, Hermione and Ron crashed to the ground with a soft thud as they hit the pavement. The rest of the Weasley’s landed relatively close and with a final thud Arthur, Amos and Cedric arrived.

Fred and George were the first ones to recover. They stood, brushing off invisible dust. “Oi, rough landing fred?”

“no more than yours George.” Fred replied.

“Harry?” The boy in question stood.

“I’m good. Ron?”

Ron stood. “Same here. Mione’?”

“I’m alright.” Hermione stood, “Gin?”

Ginny stood, nodding. “I’m okay.” She said. “Dad”

“Alright, Dear. Come now, we’ve got to…” Arthur’s voice trailed off.

“Oh Dear.” Amos said. Harry hated the way that was said. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Dad?” Cedric questioned, “This isn’t the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Yes I know.”

A blonde woman came up to them, dressed in a plain pair of thin brown pants and a black shirt. Her hair was done up in a half pony tale and she had the most depressing eyes. The cross she wore on her neck gleamed as she looked at them.

“Who are you?” she asked.
----------------------------------------------------------
End