Harry Potter and the Vampire Slayer

Chapter 3
Defence Against the Dark Arts

Author's note: thanks to Cile for the excellent beta work!
Disclaimer: Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel: The Series are the property of Mutant Enemy Inc. in association with Kuzui Enterprises, Inc /Sandollar Television, Inc, Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment Inc, and/or their related entities or assignees. The author of this fic is not affiliated with any of the above mentioned companies. The Harry Potter series is property of Joanne K. Rowling, the WB (film rights), Bloomsbury and their related entities or assignees.
This is a non-profit unofficial fanfic. No copyright infringement intended.


Argus Filch was sullenly sweeping the Great Hall after dinner. The students had gone up to their common rooms; he could hear their chatter and the squeals of first-years who had accidentally tripped over the magical stairs. It was annoying.
He would never admit it to himself, but he envied the Hogwarts students because of their magic. Argus Filch was a squib, a son of a powerful wizarding family, but without any supernatural talent of his own. He regarded the waste glumly as he carried it outside. A cool September wind touched his face when he opened the double doors that formed the main entrance to the school. A storm was in the air tonight.
The wind carried loud laughter from the Ravenclaw tower down into the court.
A dark figure was watching him from the shadows.
"Hard, isn't it?" a soft voice whispered, breaking Filch's train of thought.
"Who's there?" he asked and peered into the darkness stretching out before him.
"Always those children with their magic, first-years mastering spells in a matter of weeks, spells you are unable to do even after all these years."
Filch rubbed his eyes and tried to make out a shape under one of the gargoyles, in the badly lit part of the court.
"Ever wondered what power feels like? True power, Mr Filch."
Filch wished he had brought his lantern. The voice was familiar, but he could not identify it at the moment, as if something was confusing him, distracting him. He just couldn’t put a finger on it.
"I know you," he said hesitantly.
"Yes, and I know you, Argus Filch," the voice said. "I can help you. With a little more power of your own, you could teach those children some manners. Would you like that?"
Filch felt an urge to go back into the castle and slam the door, but he could not. He was drawn to that voice in the shadows, that voice and its tempting offer. The voice echoed in his head, slowly invading his thoughts, making his hair stand on end.
"Yes," he replied breathlessly as the voice was gained control.
The voice chuckled softly. "Good. It's not much I ask of you. But I can give you powers you do not even dare to dream of now. Why don't you invite me in, and we talk about it?"
Filch's hand trembled. "I don't know," he said slowly, trying to hold on to his last shred of sanity. "It's late. Why don't you come back in the morning, and we..."
"It's now or never. Up to you." The figure stepped from the shadows, revealing a familiar face.
"You?" Filch asked, flabbergasted. "What are you doing outside at this hour?"
"You're absolutely right. It's cold for this time of the year. So why don't we go back inside?"
"We should." He stood and stared at the figure. "You'll catch your death if you stay out here in this weather. You look all pale already, get your arse inside!"
A smile flickered across the other person's face. "Absolutely."
*
The next morning, Harry joined the other Gryffindors in the Great Hall for breakfast. He was still sleepy because of the dark clouds looming over the castle. It was clearly going to rain soon and Harry definitely preferred to wake up to sunshine.
"That was a strange song, last night," Hermione said over a bowl of pumpkin porridge, "What was that part about staying in at night?"
"Rubbish," Ron replied, helping himself to another piece of toast, "Everyone knows we're not supposed to walk the grounds on our own in the evenings, I wouldn't worry about it. The Sorting Hat's a thousand years old, I guess it's just getting a little weird."
Hermione did not seem convinced. "I don't know. It's autumn, soon it will be dark in the late afternoons, and look at our timetables! They've scheduled an extraordinary amount of afternoon lessons, as if they were trying to keep us busy. Here, Defence Against the Dark Arts is always scheduled at four o'clock!"
Harry was craning his neck to have a look at the staff table.
"Relax, Harry, he's not come down for breakfast yet," Hermione said, a little disappointed.
Harry blinked. "Huh?"
"Professor Spike," Hermione explained.
"Why should I care where Professor Spike is?" Harry said, sounding slightly irritated. "It's none of your business, but I was looking for Professor Summers because I need to talk to her about... er... about the... er..." He tried to think quickly, but could not think of a probable excuse.
Hermione nodded knowingly, patting his hand. "You're absolutely right, Harry, it's none of my business."
Harry meant to give her a snappish reply when Neville Longbottom sat down at their table, surprisingly not dressed in his school robes, but a pair of jeans and a black pullover, murmuring a gloomy hello.
"Neville, what's the matter?" Ron asked sympathetically.
"Moths," Neville said miserably, "My robes are ruined! I didn't check before I packed them, and it'll take a day or two until my grandmother can send me an owl with new ones. She'll probably send me a howler too because I was too lazy to use mothballs."
Ron nodded compassionately. He knew what a pair of ruined robes meant for Neville’s family, who were under constant financial strain.
"Have you tried a Reparo spell?" Hermione asked.
Neville shrugged. "Well, yeah, but that one closed the hole for my neck as well."
"I can have a look at it after lunch if you like," she offered.
"I have some spare robes in the dorm room," Harry added, "They've become too short for me, but we can check if they fit you. You can have them if you like."
Ron cast his eyes down and avoided looking at Harry, instead staring down at his own robes, which had become too short for him two years ago. Sometimes it sucked to have rich friends. Not that Harry was bragging about the money his parents left him, but it made him feel embarrassed nevertheless.
Neville smiled gratefully, "Thanks."
With a twinge of guilt, Ron remembered that in contrast to Harry and Neville, he was still living with both of his parents. He gave Harry a shy smile and reached for the jam.
*
A few hours later, Buffy and Willow walked into the assembled Gryffindor-Slytherin class for the first lesson of Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"Good afternoon, class," they greeted the students.
"Good afternoon, Professors," echoed from all sides.
Buffy smiled with satisfaction. "I'm Buffy Summers, this is Willow Rosenberg. We're going to teach your Defence classes."
"We expect you to show team spirit and excel at your NEWTs," Willow added.
Buffy walked to the desk and sat on it, which definitely gave her an improvement in height.
"See," Harry said in a hushed voice, "This is the DADA teacher I said was hot!"
Hermione patted his hand. "No need to be embarrassed, Harry. I totally understand that you would be attracted to Professor Spike."
"I'm NOT GAY," Harry replied a little too loudly, causing evil snickering and obscene gestures from the corner in which Draco Malfoy was seated.
That moment, the door opened again, and Spike entered the classroom, carrying a trunk with several utensils.
"You've met my... assistant, Professor Spike," Buffy said with a side-glance.
"I'm not your bloody assistant," Spike grumbled.
Buffy ignored him and addressed the class. "First of all, I'd like you to put your wands away."
The students glanced at each other, exchanging puzzled looks. "With some dangerous creatures, your wands will be of little use," Buffy explained. She walked along the rows of desks, making eye contact with each of her students. Harry blushed furiously when Buffy walked past him and winked at him in recognition.
"Vampires," Buffy said loudly and clearly.
Hermione's hand shot up.
"Yes, Miss...?"
"Granger," Hermione said.
"Miss Granger," Buffy repeated.
"We already covered vampires in second year."
Buffy frowned. "Fine. So what exactly did you do in second year?"
Hermione reached into her bag and retrieved a book, handing it to Buffy.
"VOYAGES WITH VAMPIRES, by Gilderoy Lockhart," Buffy read and began to skim the pages. After a few moments, she hardly stifled a laugh. "'The vampire is a sublime creature of the night, full of mystery and sinister attraction. He has the ability to turn into a bat or wolf, and to dissolve into a thin mist. He spends the day sleeping in his coffin, surrounded by the earth of his native country,'" Buffy quoted, shaking her head, a wide grin on her face. She handed the book back to Hermione and addressed the class. "Unless your vampire is Dracula, this book is quite useless. Whatever you read, forget it."
"Save for the sinister attraction part," Spike interfered, "That one's true."
Buffy sighed. Why did she have to put up with him? "Who can tell me something about a way to defend yourself against a vampire?" she asked.
Again, Hermione's hand shot up.
"Miss Granger," Buffy said, a little annoyed.
"Garlic," Hermione replied.
Buffy remembered how she had decorated her whole room with garlic, trying to keep Spike away, the year she had returned from the dead. "Something more efficient?" Buffy asked.
Draco Malfoy smirked. "Decapitation."
Buffy nodded. "That's right, Mr..." She glanced at her list. "Malfoy, though I would have preferred you to raise your hand before you answer." She looked around. "Anything else?"
"A wooden stake," Harry said quietly.
Buffy looked at him in surprise. "Very good, Mr Potter! A wooden stake through the heart is probably the quickest and easiest way to rid yourselves of a vampire. Ten points to Gryffindor!"
Draco frowned and whispered to Goyle. "Why do I get told off for not raising my hand and Potter gets patted on the head?"
Spike had noticed Malfoy's sneering remark with his vampiric hearing. He walked up to Draco's desk. "Mr Malfoy, as you seem so eager to talk, why don't you tell the class how to recognize a vampire?"
Malfoy glared at him. "I recognize a filthy vampire when I see one!"
Spike crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Is that right?"
"Yeah," Malfoy drawled, "They're ugly, they stink, and most of them are gay." He turned his head. "Giving it a better thought, I'm beginning to wonder if you're a vampire, Potter!"
Harry balled his hands to fists in his robes.
Spike put his hands down on the desk, bending low, glowering at Malfoy. "That's enough, mate."
Without the slightest trace of fear, Malfoy replied: "I'm not your 'mate'."
Spike's voice was low and calm, yet Malfoy flinched when he replied: "When I've put you into detention until you rot you're gonna wish you were."
Ron gave Hermione a thumbs up. "I like him!"
Willow looked around uneasily. She did not want Spike to put a student into detention on their first day. "So this is the very last warning, right?" she said carefully.
With another glare and a deep growl, Spike turned away from Malfoy. "Right. Any other methods of recognizing a vampire?" He looked around, his gaze resting on Hermione. "Miss Granger."
Blushing to the roots of her hair, Hermione replied: "Vampires cannot be seen in mirrors, shun crosses or other symbols of faith, give off smoke and may catch fire when exposed to sunlight or holy water and cannot enter a house uninvited."
"Excellent, Miss Granger, twenty points to Gryffindor."
There were wails of protest from the Slytherin tables as well as confident smiles from the Gryffindor students.
"Time for a practical exercise," Buffy interfered. "Everybody get up and move the desks to the walls."
Exchanging more confused looks, the students complied. While they were moving furniture around and Willow was distributing piles of pillows all over the room, Buffy walked up to Spike, fuming. "You can't give Granger twenty points for answering one simple question!"
Spike shrugged. "But you could give Potter ten for providing the kind of basic knowledge he was supposed to have in second year?"
"That was different," Buffy snapped. "Granger is just some bookish teacher's pet, while Potter has a real talent."
Spike looked amused. "Which you've discovered in five minutes. Have I told you you're cute when you're jealous?"
"Hey, I'm not..." Buffy began, but Spike had already turned his attention elsewhere. He clapped his hands to get the students' attention. "All right, ladies and gentlemen. We're going to show you a few basics of self-defence, later we’ll include stakes and other material. Get together in pairs of two. One of you's the vampire, the other one defends himself, then you switch."
Pansy Parkinson of Slytherin looked perplexed. "You expect us to fight? With our hands?"
"Yes," Buffy said, "Sometimes you will get attacked without having your wands ready, and vampires are very fast, so you can't put enough distance between the vampire and yourself to fire a spell successfully. I want you to know the basics of hand-to-hand combat, mainly taken from Tai Chi. Professor Spike and I will demonstrate a simple sequence of moves."
Hermione looked skeptical. "No offence, Professor Summers, but isn't this classroom simulation a giant waste of time? I don't think you'd stand a chance in a fight against Professor Spike, even less if he was really a vampire."
Willow was pretending to have a coughing fit.
Spike smiled at Hermione. "You're giving me too much credit, Miss Granger. With practice, even the smallest person may throw the biggest and strongest assailant."
Hermione blushed slightly and returned the smile.
Buffy was determined to wipe the nonchalant grin off Spike's face. "Come on, attack me already," she told him.
Spike tossed her a stake, which Buffy caught from the air with her back turned at him. The students gasped in surprise.
Without further preliminaries, he attacked.
Buffy blocked the movement when he slammed his hand forward and landed a flykick at his chest, followed by a series of several quick blows. Spike evaded some of them and managed to knock Buffy off her feet with a skilled movement, but she rolled away and was back on her feet in a heartbeat. When Spike moved behind her like lightning and clasped her shoulders, she turned and threw him over her shoulder effortlessly, pinning him to the ground.
Even though the adrenaline rush ought to have passed by now, Buffy was panting heavily, her body was all tense and her skin tickling with an electric current at the contact with Spike. It was the first time they had actually touched since his hand had burst into flames at the hellmouth. She was straddling him, feeling his firm muscles against her inner thighs, a stake placed above his heart, his chest heaving under her in the imitation of breath he did for the students. Buffy felt her hand trembling, she was anxious to get away, yet a treacherous part of her wanted to stay exactly where she was. Forever. A look into his eyes told her he felt the same way.
When Buffy became conscious of the fact that her whole DADA class was watching them intently, she rose quickly and addressed them, trying to keep her agitation out of her voice. "So this is what I expect you to be able to do after Christmas." Some of the students looked positively devastated. Buffy decided it was time for them to have a go at martial arts themselves so they could see it was much easier than witchcraft. "First of all, you need to learn how to stand. It is the basis of all martial arts. You need to know where the feet are to be positioned, how far apart your legs should be, what the weight distribution between your two sides has to be. " Buffy showed them the position she wanted them to practice. "Like this. Your feet should be slightly more than shoulder distance apart, pointing forward. Your weight should be distributed evenly between the two legs. This way, you won't be knocked off your feet easily by the vampire. One of you stands like this, the other one tries to disturb your balance. Try."
The shuffling of feet and hushed conversations formed the background noise as the students were forming pairs. They were an odd number, so Harry, Ron and Hermione volunteered to work in a group of three.
"I'm ready, attack me," Hermione said. "Ron, you start!"
Ron stared at her wide-eyed. "With touching?!" he asked, the terror audible in his every word.
"Of course!" Hermione replied impatiently.
Ron cast his eyes down and made a rather awkward step towards her.
Harry rolled his eyes. "If you can't do it, I'll start!" He pushed Hermione in the side, who stumbled back a few steps.
"Ouch!" Hermione squealed in protest.
"Sorry," Harry said.
"Not bad," Buffy told him.
Harry had not noticed her sneaking up behind him and gave a startled gasp.
"Sorry," Buffy said, "Didn't mean to scare you. Harry, your attack will be much more effective if you use your whole body, not just your arms. Bend your knees, a little, yeah, that's it! Now, when you attack, make direct and straight hits. A long extended movement will betray your intentions. Try this with me for a sec." She gave him a reassuring, almost flirty smile.
Harry grinned.
Buffy looked at him critically. "No, wait, your right arm goes here..." She touched his arm and suddenly looked at the youth disbelievingly. "Wow, you've got a strong biceps, stronger than you’d think at first glance."
"From playing Quidditch," Harry explained proudly. "Holding on to a broom, I guess."
"I've never played Quidditch," Buffy said with regret.
"I could show you," Harry offered before he could stop himself.
"Yeah, that'd be nice," Buffy agreed with a smile. She seized the opportunity to feel his left arm as well.
While Willow showed Ron how to launch an effective attack, Hermione pouted as Buffy was rearranging Harry's body position.
It was not lost on Spike that Buffy devoted an extraordinary amount of time on Harry, and it annoyed the hell out of him. Tall, dark, and a ridiculous hair style, now that sounded familiar. A few minutes ago, Buffy did not seem to mind to get up close and personal with him, and now she was playing the ice queen again. He swallowed his anger and turned to Hermione with a smile. "So what have you learned so far?" he asked casually.
Hermione tried to assume the position Buffy had demonstrated.
"Close, but no prize, I'm afraid," Spike said, "The knees should be bent forward up to the point where they do not extend beyond the toes. Keep your back straight." He walked behind Hermione, clasped her shoulders and pulled her a little towards him. "That's better."
Hermione had to struggle to stay on her feet as her knees were going weak. To her disappointment, Spike let go off her when Draco Malfoy slapped Goyle for pushing him so hard he fell, announcing with a certain degree of satisfaction that Malfoy was going to spend the evening in detention.
Harry grinned when Draco Malfoy murmured he would complain about Spike with the Ministry of Magic. All in all, he was very pleased with his first Defence lesson of the year. Most of the students were having fun doing something other than magic for a change, and Buffy heard many cheerful good-byes as the students were filing out of the classroom when finally the bell rang.
With Spike gone to observe Malfoy's detention and Willow on her way upstairs to consult with Dumbledore over their lesson plans for the following weeks, she was left to clear the classroom of pillows and move back the desks.
"Need any help with that, Professor Summers?" someone asked from the door. It was Harry Potter.
"Thanks, Harry," Buffy said with a smile.
Harry put his books down on the floor and began to collect the pillows. He cleared his voice. "Emm... we have the first training session for Quidditch tomorrow afternoon, so... I thought maybe if you'd like to come..."
Harry stuttered and stumbled, not daring to glance at her. Buffy thought it was adorable.
"Here." Harry handed her the pillows, but was so stunned by a look in her green eyes that he dropped them.
"Oh."
Simultaneously, Buffy and Harry knelt down to gather the pillows. Their faces were only inches apart.
Harry's heart was pounding in his chest.
That was the moment when an agitated witch in a white apron burst into the classroom. "Professor Summers!"
"Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, surprised. The school nurse usually did not leave the infirmary.
Blushing slightly, Buffy rose and smoothed the fabric of her pants. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey."
"Professor Summers, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but... there is something I would like you to have a look at." With a meaningful glance, she added: "I think this might be more common in your trade than in mine."
Buffy's stomach churned. She did not like the sound of that. She glanced at Harry. "Mr Potter, get Professors Rosenberg and Spike and ask them to meet me at the infirmary, will you?"
He nodded, terrified at the sudden concern in Professor Summers' eyes.
*
A chill went down Buffy's spine when she examined the two holes in the neck of the Hogwarts caretaker. Willow and Buffy exchanged a quick look. Bite marks.
Spike was pacing the room restlessly, cursing under his breath.
"How long have you had those?" Buffy asked suspiciously.
"I only discovered them this morning," Filch replied.
Buffy took a handheld mirror from Madam Pomfrey's table and held it in front of Mr Filch. The caretaker's reflection appeared in it.
Buffy let out a sharp breath. "Listen, Mr Filch, this is important. Did you leave the castle after dinner yesterday?"
"I just took out the litter. That's it. Then I went to bed." Argus Filch knew that something else must have happened that night, but he could not remember for the very life of him what that might be.
"Are you sure?" Willow pressured him. "There was nothing else? You didn't... coincidentally... maybe... happen to invite a stranger in?"
"No, ma'am," Filch replied firmly, though he was not entirely sure about his doings of the previous night.
"Don't, ever," Buffy said in a strict voice. "Thanks, Mr Filch. Madam Pomfrey will give you something to heal those wounds. I would appreciate if you did not talk to anyone about this conversation."
Filch nodded and left the room with Madam Pomfrey.
Harry was still waiting by the door, watching the little scene in confusion.
"Buffy, shouldn't you...?" Spike gestured at him.
"Right." Buffy walked up to Harry. "Thank you for getting my colleagues here so fast, Harry. I’ll see you in class."
"Is Mr Filch alright?" Harry asked, more interested in the nature of Mr Filch's ailment than the caretaker's health.
"He's going to be," Buffy replied, keeping to herself that she was wondering why he was not dead.
"Are you going to tell me what is happening?" Harry asked.
Buffy shrugged helplessly. "Look, Harry..."
He waved his hand dismissively. "I know, I'm just a student. But I'm not a fool, Professor. It's not a coincidence that we're tackling vampires and self-defence in class. I know what you were doing with that mirror. You were checking if Filch had been turned into a vampire."
Guilt was written all over Buffy's face. She hated keeping things from Harry. They concerned him, after all.
"So it's true," Harry said. "Do you think there's a vampire in the school? Are we in any danger?"
Buffy sighed. "Harry, no. As long as you stay in Gryffindor Common Room after dark, you'll be safe. The truth is, I don't know. But till I find out... just... be careful, okay?"
For a moment, he contemplated telling her about the stake Aunt Petunia had given to him, but he merely nodded.
"Harry, could you do me a favour?" Buffy asked. "Could you promise me that you will keep clear of this and not conduct your own investigation? That you'll concentrate on your schoolwork, your NEWTs, and your Quidditch matches?"
"I guess I could," Harry said in a quiet voice, without looking at her.
Buffy was relieved. "Thanks. Now run off to the greenhouse, your Herbology class started ten minutes ago!"
She pushed him out the door and waited for his steps to go away.
"Are you out of your mind?" Spike asked her, "How could you send him of all people to get us? He isn’t stupid; he clearly suspects there's a vampire after him!"
"I think he has the right to know," Buffy defended herself, "There's a monster in the castle, and it's after Harry."
"Which makes two of you," Spike remarked.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy snapped.
"You fancy him!" He chuckled. "You're trying to get into his pants! He's a bloody student! He's only eighteen! It would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic."
Willow shook her head in disbelief. "Spike, we're teachers, we're taking responsibility for the students in loco parentis, Buffy would never make a move on a student, would you, Buffy?"
"No," Buffy confirmed a little too soon, "I don't 'fancy' Harry. All I'm trying to do is to keep him safe and healthy until he takes his NEWTs."
"And then you can get into his pants," Spike added.
"No!" Buffy protested.
Spike glared at her. "Who the hell are you kidding, Mrs Robinson? You're just afraid to let a real man get too close."
"You're not a real man," Buffy said quietly.
"Yeah. Right. Thanks for reminding me," he snarled, walking past her, and slammed the door.
*
After Buffy had asked him to leave, Harry had considered eavesdropping on the coversation the three professors had behind that door, but dismissed the thought immediately. Given his luck, Snape was likely to catch him there. The events bothered him all the way to the greenhouse nevertheless. Filch had been bitten by a vampire. As Filch claimed not to have left the castle, there was only one implication: the vampire already had access to the school building. He was moving among them, unrecognized, passing for human, ready to strike. And coincidentally, the new DADA teacher Professor Summers was an expert on vampires. What puzzled Harry the most was that he was indeed ten minutes late for Herbology. Buffy Summers knew his schedule by heart.
He decided to talk to Ron and Hermione about this. He had told Professor Summers he could promise her to keep out of this. He had not said he would.
*
It was late when Neville Longbottom left the greenhouse. As often, he had stayed after class, helping Professor Sprout. Herbology was the only subject he was really good at, but he had excelled at that lesson in particular.
Dusk was falling as he made his way back to the castle. His mind was already on the owl he would have to send to his grandma about the robes, the owl he could no longer put off, the owl that was bound to bring a howler upon returning to Hogwarts, when he suddenly heard a voice behind him in the shadows.
"Harry..."
"Who's there?" Neville asked in a small voice. He walked faster, pulling Harry's spare robes a little more tightly around him as if for protection. He sniffed. It wouldn’t do Harry any harm to wash them from time to time, his smell was all over them. Again, Neville heard the voice behind him, soft steps on the grass at his back.
"Harry..."
Something cold touched his neck, moving so fast he could not make out where the dark figure had come from.
"Harry Potter..."
Cold lips brushed over Neville's neck.
He did not take long to contemplate this. He ran.
The vampire chuckled and followed at his heels.
TBC...