Hell's Half Acre (hells_half_acre) wrote,
Hell's Half Acre

Fic: Vile Violent Vacations 2/30 (SPN/HP) PG-13, Gen

Title: Vile Violent Vacations 2/30
Author: hells_half_acre 
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Supernatural
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Genre: Gen
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, spoilers for Supernatural until 5x10.
Disclaimer:  This is a transformative work of fiction for entertainment purposes only.
AN: Sequel to Damned Demented Demons and Bobby and Hermione - An Epistolary Fic . Updates every Wednesday (PST).

Previous: Chapter 1

Summary: In which Winchesters arrive in London and Harry is a little nervous

It hadn’t been a lie, Harry thought, as yet another report crossed his desk. He really could use the Winchester’s help. Centuries of recorded Wizarding history had never mentioned anything like this happening, then again, this was the first apocalypse. Still, Harry felt vastly unprepared to deal with the influx of “Paranormal Muggle Problems”. It was true, this wasn’t the first time that Harry felt vastly unprepared to deal with something – his years at Hogwarts, the Second War, Ginny announcing she was pregnant, Ginny announcing she was pregnant again – actually, in comparison this wasn’t that bad.

Mostly though, Harry just wanted to see the Winchesters. Ginny had made him promise last year to invite them for a visit, but when he had explained what happened in America and the stakes of the war the Winchesters were fighting, she had quickly let the subject matter drop. Harry knew that she worried. Ron and Hermione had expressed the same worry in different ways too. They were worried that Harry wasn’t used to not being on the front of the battle-lines, that Harry was trying to take on a war that wasn’t his, and that the Winchesters were far more dangerous than Harry was willing to believe.

Harry had hoped that Dean would have called him. Instead he had heard all his news second hand, through Hermione’s correspondences with Bobby Singer or reading between the lines of news from America. Then of course, there was the flurry of activity in May, when the head of the Department of Mysteries had run panicked into Harry’s office and announced that all their Seers had just declared that Lucifer had risen. The fact that Harry hadn’t been surprised in the slightest apparently not only added to his ‘mystique’ but also went a long way in keeping everyone calm.

Unfortunately, after that Hermione’s correspondences to Bobby Singer had been strained. The man did not talk about what had happened, if Sam and Dean were alright, or what they were doing. He eventually cut off communication with Hermione all together, much to Hermione’s distress.

Harry had thought about calling Dean a hundred times, but it was a huge risk. Dean was a muggle, and Harry had no way of knowing whether he was alone or not when he phoned, but on top of that, Dean was a Hunter, and the last thing Harry wanted to do was call Dean when he was in the middle of a Hunt – which is ironically exactly what he ended up doing.

Then there was this increase in supernatural activity, and Hermione had gotten back in touch with Bobby Singer, and finally Hermione had shown up at his house carrying a letter – a letter that kindly asked if Harry might be able to force the Winchesters to take a vacation. It was the excuse Harry didn’t realize he was waiting for.

Now all Harry had to do was wait for Dean’s response to his invitation. He knew it was asking a lot. The Winchesters had probably never traveled outside of America, and it wasn’t like they didn’t have things to do there. Though, Harry reasoned, it’s not like the apocalypse was localized to the lower 48 states.

Harry kept the mirror close to him at all times, tucked inside his breast pocket. Two days after he had called them, Harry found himself in a meeting with the Minister about the most recent vengeful spirit incident when he heard a familiar American voice speak his name.

“Harry? Are you there?”

“Excuse me, Sir,” Harry said, as he slipped his hand into his pocket, “but I have to take this.”

Harry slipped out of the room, ignoring the Minister’s slightly gobsmacked expression. As head of the Auror office, Harry was on call twenty-four hours a day, so it wasn’t too unusual for him to walk out of a meeting after receiving a call. It’s just that usually he was summoned by interdepartmental memos, not by Americans speaking to him from his pocket.

“I don’t know if it’s working, Sam,” Harry heard Dean mutter as he slipped the mirror out of his pocket and opened it. Dean’s face came into focus, with Sam peering curiously over his shoulder.

“Hi guys,” Harry said smiling at them. Dean gave Harry a grin, while Sam smiled hesitantly and then ducked out of frame.

Harry could see the sun shining on them, though he realized that Dean’s cheeks were red with cold. They must have just pulled over at the side of the road to call him, and possibly stretch their legs a little after a long stretch of driving.

“Hey Harry,” Dean said, “Uh, sorry it took a bit for me to call you back. There was this banshee and-“

“It’s alright, Dean,” Harry interrupted, “I figured you two needed to discuss it a little before you made a decision.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “Um, well we did, and...” Harry found himself holding his breath, and crossing his fingers behind his back. “...we’d like to come...visit...” Harry let out his breath and smiled.

“Excellent,” Harry said, “Where are you? I can get-”

“Harry, wait,” Dean interrupted, biting his lip and then glancing off to the left – where Harry realized that Sam must be standing. “We can’t come for Christmas.”

“Oh, ok, yeah,” Harry tried to dial back his enthusiasm, realizing he had gotten ahead of himself. “Of course, you probably already have umm....well, it is short notice. When would you like to come?”

“You must do something for New Years Eve, right?” Dean asked, with an odd looking smile.

“Yeah, of course, the Weasleys-” Harry answered, thinking about the New Year’s Eve party the Weasley’s threw every year since the War.

“It’s on a Thursday this year, right?” Dean interrupted. Harry was about to respond, but he realized Dean wasn’t even looking at him, he was asking Sam. “We’ll come on the Friday. New Year’s Day, you think that would be alright?” and this time Harry knew Dean was asking him.

“Whenever you want, guys,” Harry answered, “I’ll make arrangements.”

“Great, thanks Harry,” Dean said, “Sam and I should get going. You can call us back at this time, on December 27th, and let us know what the travel plans are.”

“Understood,” Harry replied, watching the world in the mirror shift, and realized that Dean had been sitting on the bonnet of his car while they talked, and had now slid off it. “Talk to you soon, guys.”

“Bye Harry,” Dean said, then turned the mirror until Sam was in frame, “say goodbye, Sam.”

“Goodbye,” Sam said, caught off guard, just before Dean shut the mirror.

Harry felt the smile slip from his face. He had been an idiot inviting the Winchesters for a family holiday. Sure, when Harry was a kid, he had relished the family gatherings at the Weasley’s house – he still did, but that was because Harry had never had a family. The Winchesters had, however long ago, and they had another family made up of Hunters, some of which they had just lost, of course they wouldn’t want to be reminded of what they were missing. Harry felt like an insensitive bastard.

There was something else that had been disconcerting about the call, and at first Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but now he realized what it was: Sam had looked nervous.

Before Harry could think on it any more, the Minister was poking his head out his door and looking over at where Harry stood.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Potter?” The Minister asked.

“Mm, yeah,” Harry answered, “everything is fine.”

“So, may I ask what was so important that you had to interrupt our meeting?” The Minister asked. Harry knew that there were people out there who feared him, people who thought it was only a matter of time until Harry Potter seized control of the Ministry. It was part of the reason Harry knew that he could never run for Minister of Magic, and he could never be openly disrespectful of authority. Everyone was always looking for an early warning sign. The current Minister was no exception. It got on Harry’s nerves.

“Actually, it pertains to our meeting,” Harry replied, re-entering the Minister’s office and making sure the anti-eavesdropping wards were still up. “I’m pleased to report that if we can hold out until January, I’ve managed to arrange for some experts to come in to help us.”


Harry smiled slowly.

“A couple of friends of mine from America, Sir,” Harry answered with a smile, “who just so happen to be the two best Hunters in the world.”

As Harry watched the blood drain from the Minister’s face, he decided that whatever happened, this moment was worth it.


On January 1, 2010, at six in the morning, a black 1967 Chevy Impala pulled into a parking spot along Shore Road in Winchester, Massachusetts. Phil certainly couldn’t fault them for their punctuality. He waited until the Winchesters had gotten out of their car, and watched as they both leaned their arms on the roof facing each other, appearing casual while keeping watch over each other’s shoulders.

They looked wearier than he remembered them, but then, it was early in the morning. Phil took a deep breath and stepped out from the trees and waved. He watched as the Winchesters tensed, and then relaxed, both giving him a smile.

“Phil,” Dean greeted, as he walked towards him. Sam remained by the car.

“Dean, Sam,” Phil greeted back, “Are you ready to go? Were you able to find your amulets, or do you need new ones?”

Dean and Sam both reached under the collars of their t-shirts in answer, pulling the crystal pendants from underneath their clothes by the chains. Phil noted that Sam’s chain had a crude knot tied in it, and had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling at the memory of when Sam had used the chain as an impromptu leash. Phil hadn’t been around to see the leash come off, but obviously it had been cut, and Sam had just knotted the severed ends together again.

Harry had told Phil that he had already explained to the Winchesters how it was going to work, that all he had to do was make sure they had the pendants and then perform the spell.

“What was that word you guys used?” Dean asked, but continued without clarifying, “splinch? You’re not going to splinch my baby are you?”

Phil gave him a reassuring smile, remembering the difficulty in apparating with Sam as side-along.

“There’s no apparating involved, Dean,” Phil said, “so, no need to worry about splinching. I thought Harry explained that you’d be traveling by portkey?”

“He did,” Dean confirmed, “but I just want to make sure we’re all going to make it in one piece.”

“You will,” Phil said.

“Phil,” Sam spoke, and Phil didn’t miss the small cringe Dean tried to hide, “how has it been since...”

Sam trailed off, but Phil knew what he was asking. He’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t with some trepidation that he was doing this favour for Harry – lying, if he said that he hadn’t been hoping never to cross paths with the Winchesters again.

“It’s been so normal, it’s unnerving,” Phil answered, “well, except for what happened in Carthage.” Sam bit his lip and looked down, nodding slowly. There was an awkward moment of silence, before Phil decided that it was best just to stick with his plan of having the least amount of contact with the Winchesters possible. “Come on then, let’s get this over with.”

“Sounds good,” Dean replied, and slipped back into his car. Phil watched as Sam hesitated briefly, shooting Phil another look as if he was trying to decide if he should say something or not. Then he just gave Phil an apologetic smile and ducked into the car to join his brother.

Phil took the time to walk around the car, before coming to a stop at the hood. He drew his wand and touched it gently to the black paint. He should be thankful that he was sending the Winchesters so far away from the Wizarding community in the US. If anyone else knew he was doing this, they would consider it a good act – Phil didn’t have all the facts, but he knew that the Winchesters were inexplicably bound somehow to the apocalypse; he knew that wherever they went, trouble followed. As he touched his wand to the hood of the Impala though, his only thought was ‘what are we going to do without them?

Phil concentrated on the coordinates he was given, and hoped for the best.



Harry was doing his best in trying to ignore the amused looks that Ginny kept shooting him. He knew he was doing a rubbish job at hiding his anxiousness. He had done alright that morning - he had looking after the children and making up one of the spare rooms to distract him. Now, as James and Albus played on the floor behind him, all he could do was stare nervously out the large windows of his study and fiddle with his communication mirror. Phil would call if the Winchesters didn’t show up. He wouldn’t call if they did. It was eleven.

“Why don’t you go wait on the stoop, Harry,” Ginny finally said. “As amusing as this is, you’re starting to make me nervous.”

“They might have changed their minds,” Harry answered, “or something may have happened. I’ll wait in here. It’s cold outside.”

“And Harry Potter doesn’t know how to cast a warming charm?” Ginny laughed. “They’ll come Harry, I’m sure they would have called if they couldn’t make it.”

“Am I that bad?” Harry asked, “They’re Hunters, Gin. Not only that, they’re the Winchesters. Maybe I am mad to have invited them.”

“As I recall, they saved your life and Ron talks about Dean more than he ever talked about Viktor Krum. They’re your friends, Harry,” Ginny said, “and they need your help – they may not have asked for it themselves, but they do need it. More than that, if things continue the way they have, you may very well need theirs.”

Harry smiled, he knew all this. Most of it was exactly what he had said to Ginny when they first discussed inviting the Winchesters to England. He could also remember her reply.

“And I do believe you once made me promise to invite them ‘round, as penance for getting into trouble in America,” Harry replied.

“I do believe I did,” Ginny smiled. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s me. I’m about to have two charming men in my house.”

“Three,” Harry said with a frown. Ginny just raised an eyebrow.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the black car appear perfectly in the open parking spot in front of the house.

“They’re here!” Harry said, as he bolted from the room and ran down the stairs. He ignored Ginny’s laughter and James’ voice calling out: “Who’s here, Daddy?”

He was out the front door and on the stoop, just as the driver’s side door opened. He slowed his run and watched with a smile as Dean jumped out and started inspecting the car for damage. Sam exited the car at a more sedate pace, forehead creased in slight concern as he glanced up and down the street. Harry had forgotten how tall and broad shouldered Sam was, he hadn’t seen him since...well, for a while.

Harry took a deep breath. They couldn’t see Harry yet. They wouldn’t be able to see him until he stepped out of the gate at the end of the walk.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked Sam. Harry watched as Sam gave Dean a look that clearly said ‘How the hell should I know.

“Did we make it?” Sam asked. “Is this London?” Harry tried not to laugh as Dean just returned the look Sam had given in response to Dean’s previous question.

“You did,” Harry said, as he stepped out of the gate, both brothers tensed and whipped their heads around to stare at Harry. “And that,” Harry continued, “was Phil turning your car into a temporary Portkey.”

“Where the hell did you just come from?” Dean said, while Sam just stared at Harry with an unreadable expression.

“My house,” Harry laughed. “Here,” he held out two slips of paper, “read these.”

Dean and Sam both plucked one of the papers from Harry’s outstretched arms. Harry watched as they unfolded them and scanned the words.

“Harry Potter lives at-” Dean started to say giving Harry an incredulous look.

“Not out loud!” Harry interrupted, even though Dean wouldn’t have been able to complete the sentence anyway.

“There’s only 11 and 13...” Sam said, looking up at the houses.

“Wait for it,” Harry stated, wishing he could see the effect for the first time again. Instead he watched the Winchesters, and could tell the moment Number 12 Grimmauld Place began to reveal itself to them. The widening eyes were a dead give-away.

“How did...” Sam started but didn’t finish.

“It’s called the Fidelius Charm,” Harry explained, “It means only certain people can find my house. Some of my family think I’m being paranoid, but well, I was hunted by demons last year.” The Winchesters nodded in understanding, and Harry hoped maybe a little bit of awe.

Then Harry remembered his manners.

“It’s good to see you,” Harry said smiling, “I’m glad you could make it. Do you need help with your things?” He watched as Dean smiled in return while Sam seemed to slouch into himself a little.

“Good to see you too, man,” Dean said.

“I’ll get the bags,” Sam nearly answered over Dean, then quickly turned back to the car.

“So, I thought maybe you’d just want to get settled in today,” Harry said, “Ron and Hermione are planning to come over for tea, but other than that I had nothing planned.”

“Tea?” Dean smiled.

“A light meal served between lunch and dinner,” Sam said, coming up behind Dean carrying two duffle bags.

“Dude,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow at Sam, “you are so weird.”

“Come on,” Harry said, trying not to laugh at Sam’s slightly embarrassed look, “let’s get out of the cold.”

He turned and led them into the house. Ginny was sitting on the stairs at the end of the hall waiting for them, with James and Albus sitting beside her. The Winchesters stopped just inside the door, while Harry closed it behind them. Ginny dislodged Albus’ clingy hands from her arm, and stood to greet them.

“Dean, I believe you’ve already met my wife, Ginny” Harry said, shaking his head as Ginny blushed and offered her hand to Dean, who in turn gave her a mischievous smirk.

“Ginny, this is Dean’s brother Sam. Sam, Ginny,” Harry concluded. Ginny offered her hand to Sam, who took it with a quiet, “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sam,” Ginny said with a smile, “Hermione certainly wasn’t exaggerating about you.”

“Uh, thanks?” Sam said, biting his lip.

“It’s very nice to meet you in person too, Dean,” Ginny said, taking the attention off of Sam. Then she turned to the two boys who were now shifting from foot to foot at the bottom of the stairs. “James, Albus, come say hello.”

Harry watched as James ran forward, Albus following more tentatively behind. Dean immediately fell into a crouch and gave them a friendly wave.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Dean said, “now which one of you is James and which one of you is Albus?”

“I’m James!” James declared, “he’s Albus. I’m five.” He held up one hand and splayed his fingers out.

“Five, wow.” Dean said, “How old are you Albus?”

“He’s four!” James answered, folding his thumb back in.

“Well, I’m Dean and this is my brother Sam. I’m thirty, and Sam is twenty-six,” Dean smiled. Harry watched as James eyes widened, looking between Dean and Sam, who was still standing looking at Dean with an almost affectionate expression.

“How many is that?” James asked.

“How many? Hmm...” Dean said, then motioned to Sam, “Sam, get down here and help me out.”

Harry smiled as Sam looked surprised and a little confused, but immediately fell into a crouch that mimicked Dean’s. Dean held up his hands and spread his fingers, and then nudged Sam with his elbow. Sam clued in immediately and held up his hands the same way.

“Ok, James, hold up your hands just like this,” Dean said, and watched as James did so, “Awesome, this is how many years old I am, James. And this,” Dean folded three fingers and a thumb down, “is how many years old Sammy is.” Ginny laughed as James’ jaw dropped.

“Alright boys,” Ginny said, already starting to shepherd the boys backwards, “Let’s go back up to the study, so that Sam and Dean can put their things away.” Sam and Dean both stood again, Sam biting his lip again and Dean ducking his head a little.

“You had a baby girl too...” Dean said, and Harry was only a little surprised at the man’s memory.

“Lily’s asleep,” Harry answered, “let me show you to your room, and then I’ll give you the grand tour.”

He led the Winchesters up the stairs behind Ginny and the boys. Ginny, James, and Albus, disappeared into the study, while Harry opened the bedroom door and ushered Dean and Sam in.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to share a room like usual, or if you wanted to have separate rooms.” Harry said, “I made up this one for you to share, but if you want separate ones, I can put one of you in one of the rooms upstairs.”

“One room is fine,” Dean said, “right Sam?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam said in an oddly strained voice. Harry glanced over at him to find him still holding the duffle bags, and staring at the far bed with oddly glassy eyes.

“I, umm, already lengthened one of the beds for Sam, of course,” Harry said, wondering what in Merlin’s name was going on.

“Thank you,” Sam all but breathed. Harry was about to ask what the problem was, when Dean suddenly spoke.

“Ok, that’s enough,” Dean declared, and Harry tensed, watching as Sam dropped the bags onto the floor and turned to Dean with wide anxious eyes.

“Dean...” Sam said, and yes, Harry was definitely remembering the Winchesters’ ability to have silent secret conversations with each other.

Dean gave Sam a look and then turned to face Harry.

“Harry, you know that Sam accidentally broke the final seal, right?” Dean asked.

“I assumed it was an accident, yes,” Harry said.

“See, Sam, I told you, he knows and he obviously doesn’t care. It’s not like you did it on purpose,” Dean said to Sam, “so stop the sad puppy routine, no one cares that you got into the garbage.”

Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Sam’s expression.

“I’m not a...” Sam said indignantly, trailing off unable to actually say the words.

“Yeah, you are,” Dean rolled his eyes, then turned back to Harry with a serious look, “It’s not just Sam’s fault, Harry. I was the one that broke the first seal.”

“I know,” Harry said.

“Ok...wait, what?” Dean asked, “How do you know that?”

Harry cringed, realizing that he should have just acted surprised. How did he tell Dean that they had all found out last year, that there was a prophecy that Harry had completely misinterpreted and hadn’t even told them about. Merlin, they were going to kill him, in his own house, with his children in the next room.

“Hermione found a book that described the first seal,” Harry answered in a purposefully vague way. “You’re the only one I know that’s been to Hell, Dean. Listen, we can talk about all this later. Let me show you the house.”

“Oh, ok,” Dean said quietly, though he didn’t look that happy about it.

“And Dean’s right, Sam,” Harry added, “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“Thanks,” Sam replied.

As Harry led them out of the bedroom, all he could think was that sooner or later, he would have to tell the Winchesters the truth, and he only hoped they’d forgive him.

Chapter 3
Tags: crossover, demented'verse, fic, harry potter, season 5

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