Disclaimer: Well, I could claim to own it, but then I'd be breaking the law, and the FBI would track me down, and both Joss Whedon and J.K. Rowling would take turns bitch-slapping me.

Rating: I don't know what this site has rated my story, what with their new-fangled system and all, but I'm too lazy to look it up so I'm just going to assume you know.

Feedback: I wouldn't turn you down if you happened to offer some.

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"Good evening, Lucius. The Dark Lord is ready for you."

Lucius nodded in polite acknowledgement, but were it not for the dim lighting Sylvia would have been able to see the disdain in his eyes. The witch was relatively new to the Death Eaters but had already surpassed many of the elder members in importance. As far as Lucius knew, her family wasn't even that old-- just a minor clan, really. That she was regarded with more favor from the Dark Lord than others whose pureblood ancestry could be traced back for centuries was more than irksome—it was unsettling. Could his Lord and Master truly be changing the hierarchy of the association? Was the purity of a wizard's blood waning in importance?

"Lucius?" Sylvia's voice broke in impatiently. "The Dark Lord does not like to be kept waiting."

Ashamed that Sylvia had caught him lost in his thoughts, he grunted something that was supposed to be a reply and strode into Grand Hall.

For someone hiding from aurors, Voldemort was a particularly lavish decorator.

Banners hung from every wall displaying intertwining snakes of green and silver. Serpents flew with fangs outstretched on streamers and slithered their way up and down chairs and tables. A basilisk, woven with painstaking attention to detail, lay coiled tightly on a large and spacious rug. Voldemort himself sat on what could only be described as a throne of some dark and sturdy wood, decorated in the same fashion as the other items in the large, shadowed room. Winding up his arm was a python of some sort, and when Lucius looked into its serpentine eyes he felt small and trapped, suffocating in the gaze.

"Ah, Lucius. I take it you received my summons?"

Lucius blinked, shifted his gaze to the Dark Lord and, remembering himself, bowed deeply. "Yes, My Lord. It was…hard not to." Absently he stroked the Dark Mark branded on his skin.

Voldemort chuckled mirthlessly, his thin lips curling into a smile. "I have called you here, my servant, because you have something to tell me."

The Malfoy was puzzled. "To tell you…?"

"I have caught flashes from your mind. A girl. Something troubled you. Something you thought worth my notice."

In a dizzying rush he remembered. Diagon alley… the redhead… the power.

"Willow," he murmured, his eyes unfocused as he searched his memories.

"What?" Voldemort hissed, almost rising from his chair, eyes fiery with interest. "What was that name?"

Lucius looked up at him, his curiosity battling his fear. "Willow, my Lord. You know the name?"

The Dark Lord's response was another hiss, one full of anger. "You have met the girl. Where? When?"

Lucius paused. Voldemort was obviously very interested in this news. Was there any way that he could take advantage of his Lord's eagerness and… but no. Lucius's sense of self-preservation kicked in and slapped him upside the head. One did not think about such things- especially not in the presence of the Dark Lord. Upon realization of this fact, Lucius truthfully retold what he remembered from his meeting with the girl.

Voldemort was silent for many a minute, lost in contemplation. Lucius held his breath, not daring to disturb him, and the only sound in the windless room was the steady hiss from the slithering python.

"This changes things," Voldemort said finally, more to himself than his visitor. He trained his eyes upon his servant. "You have done well, Lucius, and I will remember that in the future. Go now, and should you happen to see the girl again, be wary of your actions. I am grateful for this information, but should you spoil this, I will be most… displeased."

Lucius bowed deeply and graciously, and then turned and exited the Grand Hall.

Sylvia stood just outside the door, her wild blue eyes widened in curiosity. "Is our Dark Lord planning something? Has there been some news?"

Giving her an enigmatic smile, which he knew would irk her to no end, he walked off without a word, his dark and crafty mind already at work.

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12:26 am

London, "The Leaky Cauldron"

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Spike looked around, his sneer hidden by the hood of his new cloak. What a bloody pigsty. This was supposed to be the London entrance to the all-powerful Wizarding World? It was too wholesome, too much like a coffeehouse. They could call it a pub as long as they wanted but as far as Spike was concerned this place was not nearly dark and seedy enough to be so well thought of. Leaky Cauldron? Bullocks.

"Up for a drink, mate?"

Spike swiveled around and stared suspiciously at the bartender, a portly, greasy haired man with a toothy grin. Spike forced a smile. "No thanks. Don't fancy coming home cabbaged. The missus wouldn't like it."

The bartender laughed, "I know what you mean. My own wife's always after me about it, and she can do the cruelest things when she puts her mind to it."

Spike didn't much care what the bartender's old cow did to him (or what he did to her, for that matter), but he was beginning to wonder if he might be able to get the man to show him the entrance to the Wizarding World.

"Right, right. Hey, mate, you wouldn't happen to be able to tell me where to find some decent…er… cauldrons, would you? Just moved down from my home Scotland and I'm having trouble finding 'our kind' of shops."

If the bartender had been brighter, he would have wondered at the idea of Spike claiming to be Scottish when he was so obviously British, and would have also been suspicious that such a young looking man was already married. Fortunately for the blonde vampire, however, the bartender was neither suspicious nor bright, and was more than willing to help him.

"No problem. Only… wait, wait just a second." The bartender cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted out into the crowd, "Margaret! Hey, Margaret!"

An older witch looked up from her conversation. "Yeah?"

"I'm taking a break. Watch the bar, will you, love?"

She gave him a look, but nodded in acceptance.

The bartender thanked her and, after coming 'round the bar, threw his large arm around Spike's shoulders. Spike flinched at the unexpected and unwanted touch but, remembering himself, did not give in to the urge to sink his fangs into the mans' thick, meaty neck.

"Come on, mate," laughed the bartender heartily. "Let's go find this cauldron of yours."

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"—And then he tells me that she's a dwarf, and I say 'mate, I didn't even know she was a woman!'" the bartender laughed raucously at his own joke and slapped his knee, tightening his hold on Spike's shoulders. The blonde vampire forced a smile, trying to pretend that he didn't have an overpowering urge to rip this man's throat open and dance in his blood. Bleeding hell but this man could talk! Yap, yap, yap, on and on… it was enough to make a bloke want to stake himself. He had to find a way to ditch this old codger before his head exploded.

"You know, just remembered I promised my wife I'd be home before twelve to do, uh…. dishes. So, thanks for the buddy-system and all, but-"

"Oh, come on. You haven't even found a cauldron yet, and the night's still young!"

Spike backed away. "A shame, truly is. Thanks for the directions, have a good night, don't eat pork rines 'fore bed, and have a long life."

The bartender watched with a puzzled face as Spike turned a corner and disappeared down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley.

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Finally out of the bartender's eyesight, Spike almost breathed in relief. It wasn't like the old days. In the old days if he'd wanted to get rid of a bloke, all he'd had to do was rough him up a bit— show him the pearly whites, in a manner of speaking. Now he had to act like a sodding human. Blech. Oh how the mighty have fallen…

Taking in his surroundings, Spike realized he was nearing what appeared to be the center of this little shopping mall. There were more people hustling about, despite the late hour, and more of the stores were lit and ready for business. He gazed round, deciding which way to start looking for the little witch.

"Eenie, meenie, minie…" Spike said softly, eyes eerily focused.

He'd been about to start off down a path to his right, when he was rudely interrupted. Something large and bright knocked hit him squarely in the skull, and the vampire shouted in surprise before he was thrown five feet across the cobblestones, into the wall of a shop. He sprang to his feet, teeth bared and eyes lit with rage.

"Shite," whispered the young wizard across from him (one Charlie Blanch, by name), face done up in horror. His friends (quite frightened themselves) backed away from their companion to show that they'd had absolutely nothing to do with the incident. Charlie, recognizing his position, quickly babbled forth his apologies.

"I-I'm s-s-so s-s-sorry, sir, I-I didn't, didn't mean it, I was j-j-just show-showing off to-to my mates, I'm really, really s-sorry…"

Spike slowly approached the boy, the poor, unlucky wretch who should never have gotten out of bed that morning. If he hadn't, he'd still be at home, safe and protected; he certainly wouldn't have been out in the street that evening, messing around with magic, and he most assuredly would not be faced with the very ticked-off vampire standing before him.

"You," Spike hissed, "have just made a very big mistake, boy."

But, luckily for Mr. Blanch, Missus Eugena Hopkins, proprietor of "Hopkins's Hats", had seen the whole commotion from her store window and run outside with her wand raised.

"Hey!" she called shrilly, "You get away from that young boy, you nasty succubus!"

" 'Succubus'?" Spike repeated incredulously, completely forgetting his anger. "You bleeding serious?"

But the woman's shouts had attracted attention from other magick folks as well, and it soon became clear to the blonde vampire that it would perhaps be best to move to a less crowded area.

Spike turned tail and ran off, with twelve different would-be-slayers chasing after him, leaving behind one very grateful young wizard, who promptly passed out from relief.

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Spike cursed and grumbled his way up the riverbank, doing his best to wring out the water from his clothing. The self-righteous mob of magick-users had chased him for more than a mile, so relentless in their pursuit that Spike had needed to jump into a river and hide under the cold, rushing water for half an hour, all the while trying desperately not to float to the surface. This was quite the feat, considering that Spike was never one to be deemed as patient.

"Shoulda sliced that kid five ways from Wednesday when I'd had the chance," he muttered, absently touching his head. It didn't hurt, but he felt an odd discomfort that just wouldn't leave his poor skull alone. "Kid could have given me syphilis for all I know. Damn wizards should watch where they're pointing their bloody sticks."

"Harry!"

Spike muttered an obscenity and dived behind a bush.

"Harry?" Hermione repeated, exasperated. "Ron? Look, I'm in no mood for games. We have to get back before someone notices we're gone; we're not supposed to be off school grounds! How you talked me into doing this, I'll never know," she muttered unhappily.

There was movement from a nearby bush, and Hermione eyed it warily. "Harry? …Ron?" she moved toward it with her wand out, suddenly frightened.

"R-Ron? Is that- Oh!" she shrieked, spinning around. "Harry! That was not funny!"

The two boys laughed as they took of the Invisibility Cloak, clearly disagreeing with her.

"Honestly, you should have seen your face!" Ron snickered. "You worry way too much."

"He's right, 'Mione," Harry agreed. "You are a bit tightly wound."

"Well if I'm tightly wound, it's only because you two are too loose! Do you know how far we are from the school? Not to mention how late it is!"

"I had to know if any of the secret passages had been found since last year," Harry reminded her. "Besides, you did agree to come."

"It was late," she snapped back. "I wasn't thinking right."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"No. We were this close to being spotted! We practically tripped over Professor Rosenberg's feet in the hallway, and friend or not I doubt that she wouldn't report us."

"You're over-exaggerating."

"Am not!"

"Both of you, quit it," Harry told them, looking around as though expecting someone to overhear. He sighed. "All right, all right. We'll go back to the castle now, if you want, Hermione. Let's go, Ron."

Spike waited until he could barely hear them, and then stepped out from his hiding place, a calculating look on his face. "Professor Rosenberg, eh? Now isn't that just the sorta thing Red would get into… s'worth checking out, in either case. 'Sides, I need a place to avoid the sun. A castle sounds right nice."

Silently he trailed after the three teens, able to track them despite the enchanted cloak they shared. He let them lead him into their "secret passageway" and stayed with them until they'd reached the entrance to the school. There, he hung back in the shadows of the tunnel, memorizing the password that he'd use tomorrow, when he'd brake into the halls of Hogwarts to find his missing witch.

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Hogwarts Castle

1:49am

(Willow)

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"Sorry about that, little guy," I apologize to Terrance, carefully unwrapping him from my cloak. "I just don't think you're allowed on school grounds. I mean, I don't actually know, 'cause this is a Wizarding school and all, but I do remember that most normal schools would frown upon bringing a griffon cub, no matter how darn cute he is."

Terrance eyes me blearily, yawns, and then nuzzles against my chest.

"Guess you're not all that interested, huh?" I whisper, unable to keep the tenderness out of my voice.

I look around one final time, making sure that nobody's out in the hallway trying to spy (I wouldn't put it past Snape) and slip into my room. As I lay down some of my robes in the corner, creating a makeshift bed for the sleeping angel in my arms, I realize again how lucky I was not to have been spotted coming up here. Hagrid wouldn't let me leave without taking the cub, despite my promises that I'd pick him up tomorrow when it was actually light outside. He'd been too afraid of the Ministry showing up unexpectedly, or some bratty student running off to tell on him. On my way back to the school, I'd been so frightened of being found out that I swore someone had seen me almost five times. Once, in the hallway, I had gotten such a strong feeling of being spotted that I'd frozen up completely, and hadn't been able to move for like six minutes. Somebody up there must be watching out for me though, 'cause I'd made it back okay.

I carefully lay Terrance down in his new bed, and though he fidgets uncomfortably for a moment, ruffling his wings and stretching his paws, he settles down quickly enough. I guess the excitement must have worn him out. I still can't believe that he's mine now, but that's not to say I am in any way upset that he's going to stay with me. I think… I think we kinda need each other. He's all alone in the world, no friends or family to look out for him, and though I have both friends and family, I couldn't feel more alone if I tried. I know that I shouldn't treat him like a replacement Terra (how could I?) and I understand that I can't have him forever (griffons grow older too), but I think that, for right now at least, it'll be okay. I need him, and he needs me, and that's all that really matters.

I stare down at him with love, suppressing a yawn as I reach down to stroke his fur.

"I think we'll keep each other company, little guy, and I'll watch over you. I won't let anything bad happen to you- I promise."

And so swearing, I climb beneath the sheets of my bed and go swiftly and softly to sleep.

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Review Returns:

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Cow As White As Milk: Yeah, I love Terrance too… sigh If only I had a griffon of my own…

Sigma 1: Yeah, it was a bit short, and I'm afraid this one isn't much longer, but thanks for the Willow-speak compliment. I try, I really do.

Raclswt: Whoa, slow down and take a breather. Yeah, Spike's coming to Hogwarts (obviously) and I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I'm afraid that Snape will NOT be getting together with Willow. When I write that they hate each other, I really DO mean it. ;D Thanks for the review!

Spearsister: Good review I thanks. ;D

Whispering Darkness: Okay, I will! Thanks for the review!

Faith's Lies: Yeah, I know. wince It has been… quite some time since I've updated… sorry. But I'm here now! See? Iot wasn't abandoned, honest! Thanks for the review (and the nudge).

The Cardboard Moon: "sque"? That's a new one. And yes, I also hope that Snape's comeuppance is in the cards, but a good writer never truly knows where their story will go… I guess we'll both just have to wait and find out. Thanks for the review!

Ambrosine: All right, before I say anything else, let me just tell you "thank-you". It might have been another month or two before I updated, had it not been for the review I received from you. The fact that someone was still interested in my story…. That they'd taken a chance on Willow-goes-to-Hogwarts… It inspired me to finish this chapter. So, once again, thank you, and I hope to receive more reviews from you in the future. (Psst- Snape and Willow are my favorite pairing too! ;D)

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I don't know when I'll update again, but hopefully it won't take as long as this one did. Thank you again for all of your support, and I hope to be hearing from you soon.

Tootles!