Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, Lupin would be still teaching at Hogwarts, while Sirius, Anya, Fred and Cordy would have never died. It's all Rowling's and Whedon's fault.
Summary: XOver with Atvs. Snape has to take care of five-year-old Connor Angel while Sirius, who's free again, is raising his four-year-old godson. But it won't be easy: several people are after them, and then Connor's mum shows up...
Rating: PG, just to be safe.
Notes: This is an AU. This means that several things are completely different from canon. The reasons for this will be explained in later chapters, but here are a few things that I've changed, so nobody is confused (if you don't want any spoilers, skip this part):
Darla did not die, but Angel and Cordelia did.
The dimension Sahjaan threw Connor in wasn't Quor'toth.
I've switched the timelines to my advantage. This means that, in spite of the tiny fact that Harry was born one year before Buffy, here he's just a child while the Sunnydale gang are twenty-one or so.
Well, that's pretty much it. All other questions will be answered in future chapters, but you can always send me a review or a email. And, of course, you can always send me a review to tell me if you liked the story!
Special thanks to Joycelyn Solo and Sophia K., for beta reading this story and pointing out all the mistakes and possible ways to improve this fic. Thank you so much!
Two Single Parents
Prologue:
'I am afraid we have a problem'.
Professors McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick were reunited in Dumbledore's office, sitting in chintz armchairs around his desk. When they heard the Headmaster's words, they exchanged somber and worried looks. What could it be? The term hadn't started yet, so it wasn't probable that they had a problem with any of their students, and they knew for sure there weren't any problems with their colleagues. Could it be something less mundane, perhaps? Or something more sinister?
It didn't seem likely. The Dark Lord had been defeated three years ago and all his Death Eaters had been caught – even though many of them had been released. However, these (former?) Death Eaters had kept a very low profile since the Dark Lord's fall. In three years, nothing had broken the Wizarding world's peace. Could things have changed?
Maybe it wasn't something so terrible, but then why had Dumbledore asked them to join him as soon as possible? What was so urgent?
'How big is this problem?' Professor McGonagall inquired.
For a second, to their shock, it seemed like Dumbledore was going to smile.
'Well, he is about one meter tall and about five years old'.
The three teachers stared at him blankly. Snape was the first to get over the shock.
'Are we talking about a child?'
'Not any child,' Dumbledore said 'I think you all will agree that this is a very delicate matter once you've heard Connor Angel's story…'
'Fred, we are not abandoning him.'
It was the eleventh time he told her this, but she still didn't feel reassured. Which was no wonder: after all, not even Wesley completely believed it.
'Look, Dumbledore is a trustworthy man. Giles has known him for years. And Hogwarts Castle is famous for its security. It's just what Connor needs right now: a safe place with people like him, where he'll learn to control his powers.'
Fred looked like she was about to cry.
'But he's Angel's son, and we promised we'd take care of him.'
'And we will, Winnifred. This is just temporary, you see. As soon as Connor is stable' And we, too, he thought but said nothing. 'We'll come back for him. And we'll raise him, as we promised to Angel and Cordy.'
Fred looked a little comforted, but not completely. Seeing this, Gunn added:
'And let's face it, Fred, we can't take care of that kiddo right now. We got Wolfram & Hart after us, and that ugly demon clan which wants to kill him. And it's not like he trusts us at all: he's escaped from the house already twice since he came back, and he's terrified of Lorne. Besides, he tried to kill us all.'
'He didn't try to kill us' Wesley corrected 'He thought we were attacking him.'
'But we were tryin' to give him a bath. See my point? The kid is untamable. With the super strength, and the magic thing…we can't control him.'
Fred and Wesley had to admit Gunn was quite right. Not only did Connor have the strength of an adult, a supernatural speed and extremely sharpened senses, but also he had manifested an incredibly magical potential. A potential they couldn't control.
But it was so unfair. Angel and Cordy had sacrificed themselves to protect Connor, and now they were leaving him with those strangers.
'Are we sure these people can handle Connor?'
'It's a school, Fred. A magical school', Wesley patiently explained, 'I'm sure they'll know how to deal with this.'
'I hope they do. After all Connor has gone through…'
None of them said anything, but it wasn't necessary. They all could imagine how dreadful Connor's childhood had been, raised by Daniel Holtz and that Justine woman in Pylea.
'Can we at least visit him?', Fred asked, almost pleadingly. Wesley and Gunn exchanged a somber look.
'Professor Dumbledore believes that it would be better if we didn't see Connor for a little while...'
Fred opened her mouth to protest, but Gunn cut her in:
'Baby, he's right. The kiddo don't bear seein' us at all.'
Wesley nodded. 'And we'll come back to take him back with us'.
The woman's brown eyes shone with a faint glint of hope.
'Soon?'
Gunn and Wesley exchanged another look. The former turned to face Fred, a forced smile on his face.
'Very soon, baby. Very soon'.
They remained silent for some minutes, each one of them absorbed in their own thoughts.
Wesley thought of little Connor, who had been thrown into a hell dimension by a demon, and had spent his childhood in the company of Holtz and Justine, people who hated his parents. And his mind went back to the night Holtz and Justine had kidnapped Connor (before he could stop himself, his hand raised to touch the long scar on his neck), Sahjaan had, accidentaly or on purpouse, sent them to Lorne's home dimension, and Angel and Cordy...
He shook his head. It was still too painful to think about Angel and Cordy. He glanced at his friends, whose faces were somber and their eyes clouded. It was time to go.
'Well, I'm afraid we don't have anything to do here', Wesley said dully 'Let's go home.'
Home?, Gunn wondered. Which home?
Connor Angel sat very quietly on a large, white bed. There were many beds in this place, all exactly alike. And it smelled funny. He had asked the woman where he was. She had looked at him strangely before answering.
'This is the hospital wing, dear.' Seeing his puzzled face, she added. 'This is where the people come when they feel sick or they are injured, so I can cure them.'
Connor frowned.
'But I'm not feeling sick.'
'I know you aren't, but you'll stay here until we find a place where to put you up.'
He found this answer so reasonable that he did not ask more questions for a while. Instead, he watched the woman, who was putting little bottles on a shelf. There were bottles of all sizes and colours. Connor wondered what was inside them. Medicines, probably. Justine had explained to him that medicines made you feel better. There hadn't been many medicines in Pylea. Not in bottles, at least. People made their own mixtures, which not always worked. Luckily he never got sick, and Justine and Daniel knew how to take care of themselves, so they hadn't needed those things.
He held back a sigh. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd last seen any of them (he still didn't understand how time worked in this place) and he wondered if he'd ever see them again. Or Pylea. He missed Pylea. There were demons, and you had to hunt your dinner, but he missed it anyway. It was always very bright there, with the two suns. And Daniel and Justine had been there.
Of course, Connor didn't believe what the man with sky blue eyes (Wesley was his name) had said. They were all lies. They couldn't be true. It was ridiculous.
But his words still haunted his troubled mind, especially at night. The worst things always happened at night. It was in that moment when his head was filled with What if-s…? What if it was true? What if Daniel was really…?
No. It's not possible. Not him. He shut his eyes and shook his head, until all the bad thoughts were gone.
When he opened his eyes, he heard the sound of footsteps getting closer. He listened intently. Four people…no, three people and a half…a child, perhaps?
There was a knock on the door, and the woman hurried to open it. Someone – a man – spoke in a low whisper, which was still audible to Connor:
'How is he, Poppy?'
'Very quiet, Headmaster.' The woman answered in an even lower whisper. It didn't matter, really, because Connor's hearing was superb.
Then, a very old man with a long, silver beard entered the room. The child wondered if he'd lived long enough to meet the King Arthur from the stories Daniel had told him. A woman with a severe expression and a pointed hat followed him, plus a dark haired man (the youngest) in black robes. Lastly, a weird creature got in. It had the height of a child, but he looked as old as the severe-looking woman. And he didn't look like a demon, either.
The oldest man came closer and sat on the bed next to Connor's, his blue eyes never leaving his.
'Hello, Connor. My name is Albus Dumbledore.'
The child thought it was a funny name, but all names here were weird for him, used to Pylean names as he was.
'Nice to meet you, sir,' he replied politely, as Daniel had taught him.
'Nice to meet you too, Connor. They,' he pointed at the people with him, 'are Professor Minerva McGonagall, Professor Severus Snape and Professor Filius Flitwick.'
Connor eyed them thoughtfully.
'Why are they all called Professor, sir?'
For a moment it looked as if Albus Dumbledore was going to laugh. He composed himself, though, and patiently explained that 'Professor' wasn't their name, but the charge they held.
'Has Mr. Wyndam-Pryce told you why are you here?'
Connor nodded. Wesley had said it was a school, and that he was going to learn many things in there. He also had said that schools were places where people went to learn new things. As if he was stupid or something. He knew very well what a school was, Justine had explained it to him. What he didn't know was what he'd learn there. Daniel had already taught him everything he needed. Well, except for reading. He only could read his own name, and only if it was written in capital letters.
'Good. I'm afraid we haven't a bedroom ready for you, so you'll spend the night here. By tomorrow we'll have fixed a place for you. If you need anything, you can call Poppy here. Do you have any questions?'
Yes. When will Daniel and Justine come back for me? When will I get back to Pylea? He had asked the same questions to Wesley, and that had been when he had told him those awful lies.
He shook his head.
Harry Potter was crying in his cupboard under the stairs. He felt so miserable. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever felt that miserable before, with the possible exception of his last birthday, when all he'd got from his uncle and aunt had beem a toothbrush.
But what had happened that day was as bad or perhaps worse than his last brithday. He'd accidentally broken one of Aunt Petunia's crystal jars, and she'd been so mad. She had made him to clean up the mess and didn't care at all when Harry cut his little finger with a piece of broken glass. Then she had locked him in the cupboard. He didn't like it there. It was very dark, and there were spiders. But Aunt Petunia didn't care about it either. She said he was a bad boy and he deserved being there. Also, she'd told him he wouldn't have any dinner, and he was so hungry.
Sometimes, he dreamed that a distant relative would come and take him away from the Dursleys. And this relative would be kind and caring, and he'd sleep in a bedroom much larger than Dudley's, and he'd never miss dinner again.
But no one ever came, and he felt so lonely…
Darkness filled the place. Darkness filled everything in there. Darkness was all he had.
He tried not to look through the bars of his cell. He already knew what he'd see. There were Dementors watching his door day and night. After all, he was a dangerous psycho murderer, wasn't he?
He let out a harsh laugh. He couldn't do anything else. He felt so weak…Only one thought kept him alive and sane.
I'm innocent, and Peter is still free.
A thought that poisoned his heart, but at the same time gave him strength to keep on breathing, day after day, second after second. A thought that the Dementors couldn't take away from him.
He'll pay for this. He'll pay for all he did.
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