Fandoms: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing...and there's a lot of it in this chapter)
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, Spoilers up to 4x10 for Supernatural.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke, Harry Potter belongs to Rowling.
A/N: it's 10 chapters as of today (It was actually at 11, but then I combined 7&8 to make Chapter 7 longer, so now I have to renumber them all...I'm aiming for 15 chapters, but it might go to 20 depending how complicated I get.
Question!: Where would the American Ministry of Magic be located? I was thinking Boston, but feel free to disagree.
Summary: In which Harry and Dean go for a drive, Phil swears a lot, and the Winchesters think wizards are a bit melodramatic
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Dean squealed the tires as he pulled out of the parking lot, and grinned at Harry.
"What do you think?" He asked.
Harry was so glad he had managed to read the Winchester file that morning while the two Hunters had been preoccupied with reading about Dementors.
"It's beautiful, mate," Harry said enthusiastically. "How long have you had it?" Harry knew of course, that the car had to have been in their family for years if wizards had actually taken note ot it.
"My Dad bought it in the 70's, you should have seen it sitting there in the sunshine on the lot..." Dean smiled nostalgically, much to Harry's confusion. "He was there to buy a van, a van! When the Impala was sitting right there next to it. It didn't make much to convince him, sure, but the fact that he was going to buy that crazy hippie van still astounds me sometimes..." Dean glanced over waiting for Harry's response, and caught the expression on his face, then added "...or so the story goes."
"It's in great shape for such an old car," Harry replied, hoping he wasn't provoking a technical discussion that he wouldn't understand. Dean smiled proudly, but then the smile seemed to falter a bit.
"I had to rebuild it practically from scratch a couple years ago," Dean explained. "But now I guess she has a new lease on life. New parts...all the old kinks gone..."
Harry frowned as Dean trailed off and ran a hand gently down the edge of the steering wheel. Dean didn't start talking again, instead he just stared morosely out the front window. Harry knew they were well passed the perimeter, and had hoped that the car talk would be enough to keep Dean's better memories in focus, but it obviously wasn't working.
Harry took out his wand and hung his arm casually over the back of his seat. Pointing the wand at the floor, he thought about Ginny and the boys waiting for him at home, and whispered "Expecto Patronum" The stag materialized on the backseat, curled in on itself to fit in the space.
"WHAT THE HELL? What did you do?! What's that?" Dean sputtered, looking frantically in the rear view mirror and then over his shoulder.
"Calm down," Harry said. "It's my Patronus. We needed it."
Dean stopped looking frantic, instead he just looked angry, and Harry was starting to think maybe he was safer when Dean was depressed. He needed the car talk back, the casualness of the drive before Harry ruined it by trying to protect Dean. He needed Dean to forget that there was a magic blue glowing stag crammed onto the backseat of his car.
"When I was young, my friend's father had this old Ford," Harry started, "it was blue - a Ford Anglia. Anyway, my friend's father was a wizard, right, so he didn't really understand about cars...he put all these charms on it."
"Wizards don't drive cars?" Dean asked as though he were disgusted by the very thought. Harry laughed.
"No, and believe me, I'd prefer if we did sometimes. All our methods of transportation are highly uncomfortable," Harry grimaced. "My friend and I ended up driving the car into a tree one day. I think the car was pretty furious. It spat us out and then drove off without us, but it was a right nice car." Harry smiled, remembering the way the tail lights had disappeared into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.
"It drove off without you?" Dean exclaimed, as though the car had personally insulted him. Harry wasn't sure if he should be concerned or amused. He did know that Dean had completely forgotten about the stag in the backseat, and he was glad about that. It took a lot of concentration to get a Patronus to linger so long, but the Patronus charm had oddly become one of Harry's specialties - yet another reason the American Ministry had asked for his assistance.
"Strange things can happen sometimes when you put too many charms on an object," Harry explained. "They can sometimes develop a mind of their own." Harry knew he had made a mistake somewhere when Dean's eyes widened considerably.
"You magicked Sam's bed!" Dean said horror-struck. Harry couldn't help himself, he burst out laughing. Dean's brow furrowed and he started looking more annoyed than worried again.
"Sam's bed is fine," Harry said once he had got control of himself. "That's transfiguration, not charms. I know you don't know the difference, but believe me, there's a big one. You have nothing to worry about."
Dean seemed to relax at that, and Harry turned his attention to the scenery. He had been to the States once after the war, but never this part of it. It was beautiful. Harry thought of Ginny and his boys, and the baby, and Teddy, continuing to concentrate on maintaining the stag in the back seat. It was difficult, but Harry had a lot of practice - someone had to corral the Dementors after the War and the amount of breeding that had taking place hadn't made the job easy. The trick was to keep feeding the Patronus happy thoughts when it started to weaken or your attention was divided.
"It's really beautiful," Dean said quietly.
"Yeah, I've never been to this part of the States before," Harry said, still gazing out the window.
"No, I mean your buck," Dean said, with a hint of embarrassment. Harry turned his attention back to the inside of the car - at the way Dean kept glancing in the rear view mirror every few seconds. Harry turned and looked at the stag, which lifted its head to meet his gaze.
"Thanks," Harry replied, "It's my Dad." Harry saw Dean whip his head around to stare open mouthed at Harry, so he quickly continued, "well, it's not actually him. It's a...representation. My Dad was an animagus - that means that he could turn into an animal at will. His animal was the stag. I never really knew my Dad, but my Patronus is a stag because of him."
"So, let me understand this," Dean said slowly, "that means that if I had a Patronus, it would look like a dude with a five-day beard?"
Harry laughed again, "No, it would be an animal that represented you. I suppose that's what mine is too - I just like to think of it as being a connection to my father."
"Huh," Dean said, then winked at Harry "too bad my Patronus can't be a car."
Harry huffed a laugh in response, and kept the words 'Too bad you can't have one at all' to himself. They were silent for a moment, before Dean spoke up again.
"So, wizards don't drive cars," Dean started still with a tone of disbelief. "Do they at least know something about classic rock?" Harry bit his lip, thinking about how very little Wizards new about Muggle culture. Apparently his silence was answer enough. "Ok..." Dean continued, "I'm about to give you an education then." Dean's grinned wickedly at Harry, as he pulled a dilapidated shoebox out from under the front seat filled with what Harry recognized as cassette tapes. "I'd like to introduce you to a little band called Led Zeppelin."
Dean chose to have the music speak for itself, and they lapsed into silence. Harry liked the music. He had never had a chance when he was young to listen to anything other than what filtered through the walls of Dudley's room. When he was at school and afterward, he was in the Wizarding World, and only knew Wizard bands.
Harry let the music wash over him as he thought about the Winchesters. The Ministry file had been sparse with information, though unsurprisingly it knew more than the Muggle government did. For instance, the Ministry knew that the Winchesters were still alive. They just didn't seem to know how they were still alive.
The file was also sparse when it came to the family history, mostly focusing on Sam and Dean, rather than their father. Their mother was killed in demon fire, then not much information besides the words "no permanent residence" written just before the words "Jessica Moore dies in demon fire - Samuel Winchester drops out of school" and then a spattering of place names across the country, until a short description of John Winchester's sudden death after a car accident and Dean's miraculous recovery.
Dean cheats death once, for reasons unknown, Harry thought, twice due to angels?
The report didn't know about the angels. It's silent on the boys activities for almost a whole year, besides the bits where the boys attracted the attention of the Muggle authorities. Then there is a vague note about a devil's gate, a few more instances of incarceration and subsequent escape or faked-death, and then the note: "May 18th, 2008 - Dean Winchester dies. Samuel Winchester's whereabouts unknown."
And the fact that it was mentioned in finality, means that they had started compiling the file after that, not before. All other apparent deaths were phrased as just "Dean Winchester considered dead by Muggle authorities," or "Dean and Samuel Winchester assumed by Muggle authorities to have perished in explosion."
So what about Dean's death would cause the Wizarding world to start keeping files on two Hunters? Usually the files on Hunters consisted of their name, age, and address (if they had one). The note on Dean's return was even more confusing, "September 18th, 2008 - Dean Winchester alive. American Department of Mysteries Investigation Classified."
After that, it was obvious that the Auror Department had depended largely on scrying to gather information. The entries were written in the vague language of Divination: "The son returns to the parents - removed for an unbound instant. He witnesses."
In the end, though, what worried Harry the most was the bold order stamped on the page underneath the usual warnings about how dangerous Hunters were: "If Seen Contact the American Department of Mysteries"
If it was the Aurors that wanted the Winchesters, Harry would have understood. It would mean that the Winchesters had killed a wizard or a witch. It would mean that they were a danger to the magical community. But the Department of Mysteries... Harry didn't know what to think of that. He thought of the faint scars on Ron's arms, the bulky frame of a grown man with a crying baby-head, and the Veil...the Veil that blew so gently in an invisible breeze, that whispered things to him...the Veil that he had seen Sirius fall into never to be seen again...
Harry blinked and came back into himself, remembering that he was in a car with Dean Winchester. The strains of a particularly melodic guitar solo spilled from the old speakers.
"Huh? Sorry...yes?" Harry asked. He saw Dean look nervously at him.
"Your deer's gone," Dean said. "It just...well, faded..."
Harry glaced at the empty backseat and cursed himself. Of course it had faded, he had let himself get distracted, let himself think of those years...
"How long ago?" Harry asked. "How long ago did it vanish?"
"Just a couple minutes," Dean answered. "I noticed it fading, then I didn't look back for a bit, but when I did it was gone. I wasn't sure if you had done it on purpose, man...but then, well, you looked kind of out of it."
Harry looked intently out the window at the low hanging clouds, he couldn't see them, but it was getting worse. Dean seemed to pick up on his concern.
"Are they there?" Dean asked in a low professional tone.
"How do you feel?" Harry asked back, of all people, Dean should be able to tell without asking.
"I think they're there. It's not as bad as before, but, uh, don't take this the wrong way, but just now you looked like someone had killed your puppy," Dean replied with a small smirk.
"Actually you aren't far off," Harry said, huffing a mirthless laugh. He could cast a Patronus again, but he wasn't sure whether he could hold onto it for long enough - it was rather exhausting. He needed some other way to keep both of them from downward thought-spirals.
"Hey Dean," Harry said casually, "how about we pick up lunch for all of us and head back to the hotel."
"Yeah, ok," Dean said, a little too subdued for Harry's liking.
"And on the way," Harry continued with a smile. "I want you to teach me everything I need to know about all these rock bands, including your favorite songs and why you like them. Obviously I've been missing something amazing, because this stuff is bloody brilliant."
Dean smiled broadly, and started immediately, "Well, this song we're listening to is called Ramblin' Man..."
Harry focused intently on what Dean was telling him, and how he was telling it to him, and the light behind his eyes and the ease of his smile. Harry still didn't know much about the Winchesters, but he knew that he had to find a way to protect them. Harry had survived this long by reading people well, learning his lessons the hard-way sometimes, but he was confident that the Winchesters were not a threat to the Wizarding World - not as long as they were properly educated about it. What Harry wasn't so sure about was whether or not the Wizarding World was a danger to the Winchesters.
"So Lars just decided that he didn't like guitar solos? I mean, that's sort of odd, isn't it? The whole genre seems basically made for guitars," Sam heard Harry say as Dean shouldered the door open.
"Oh God," Sam moaned to himself, "he's converting him..."
Dean heard Sam and winked. "I can't help if it the guy has taste, Sam." He placed some takeout containers on the table, "Now quit whining. We brought you lunch."
Much to Sam's dismay, Harry and Dean kept up the music talk most of the way through lunch, they even talked about the car a bit too. Sam was beginning to suspect that Harry was genuinely interested, and hadn't just been pretending in order to make sure his brother was alright, which was why he felt he had to ask, even though he knew it would kill the mood...
"How did the drive go? I mean, how was it once you got passed the perimeter?"
Dean scowled and Harry looked disappointed, and that was really all the answer Sam needed.
"We've got to figure this out," Harry said, placing his fork off to one side and pulling out that weird communication device of his. "I'm going to call one of my men in," Harry informed Dean and Sam. He wasn't asking if it was alright, he was just warning them. Sam realized that when it came right down to it, Harry didn't need their permission to do anything, the fact that he had asked it of them the night before was probably just out of courtesy.
"Deacon," Harry said, looking down at the flip-phone-thingy, "report, please."
A soft-pop and Deacon was in the room with them, standing in the same spot he had been earlier.
"Deacon, this is my friend Dirk," Harry introduced.
"Pleased to meet you, sir," Deacon said, offering his hand to Dean. Dean said something around a mouthful of food that may or may not have been "you too, man."
"Was there any movement while I was gone?" Harry asked.
"Yessir, there was a small faction that..." Deacon paused, a bemused expression flitting over his face "well, they started moving shortly after you left. Their flight patterns were a little hard to follow, but, they seemed to...well, I can't be certain, sir..."
"Spit it out, Deacon," Harry commanded.
"There's a possibility they were following you, sir," Deacon said, and Sam wondered why he seemed so reluctant to believe what he was saying.
"Shit," Harry swore. Sam's mind was already working on possible explanations, if the Dementors were following Harry, maybe them being in the same place as Harry was the problem and that solved their problem. Then Sam caught the look on Dean's face and realized that he was being an idiot. Dean had been with Harry the whole time, and the whole reason Harry had come to the States was because the Dementors were already there.
"Shit," Sam echoed.
Dean swallowed his mouthful of food, and calmly pushed his plate to one side. Sam found himself getting annoyed at Dean's non-reaction. These things were obviously after him, and he just seemed resigned rather than angry. Sam was angry. Hadn't Dean been through enough?
His attention was brought back to Deacon when the kid shifted on his feet and spoke up again. It was obvious that he was worried about being the barer of bad news.
"But, Sir, it doesn't even make sense," Deacon said, and Sam wondered if his own voice ever sounded that young and innocent. "Movement like that would imply motive, and none of the books...Dementors don't..."
"You're right," Harry interrupted. "It would imply motive and Dementors don't work on motive, they work on orders or on hunger. So, either someone ordered them to follow me, or it was simply movement due to hunger and it was purely a coincidence that I was that direction. Thanks for the report Deacon, you may go."
Deacon nodded, turned, and disappeared in front of them.
"I have to talk to Phil," Harry said, standing. "I'll be back shortly." Before Sam could open his mouth, Harry had already disappeared with a crack of the air.
Silence hung in the room for a moment. Dean was starring at the clouds out the window. Sam's mind was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what any of this meant.
"What'd you find out about Harry while we were gone?" Dean asked suddenly, as if Deacon's report had never taken place and they were still working off their plan from last night.
"Most of these books are just about magical creatures, but there are a few general history ones." Sam replied, sighing at Dean's unwavering ability to ignore the elephant in the room. "It seems everything he's told us so far is true. Also, he's some sort of big shot for wizards. He defeated one 'Lord Voldemort' when he was, get this, one year old, and then again when he was seventeen...that second time is the war that he talked about. Apparently this Voldemort guy was pretty evil. According to the short article on Harry in one of the books, other names for Harry are 'The Boy Who Lived' and - I swear I'm not kidding - 'The Chosen One.' "
"The Chosen One?!" Dean said disbelievingly, "bit melodramatic, don't you think?"
"Ha, yeah," Sam replied.
"So, his story checks out according to the books that he gave us," Dean replied. Sam had to shrug at that.
"It's all we have to go on." He didn't like it anymore than Dean, really, but they were low on options. "I think it's true," Sam continued. "I mean, there's the way both Phil and Deacon treat him - like he's...well, like they revere him."
"Yeah," Dean replied, "I've noticed it too. Plus, the guy seems to know what he's doing...and, if he was out to harm us, he had plenty of opportunity during the car ride. Had his wand out and everything, but he only used it to make that deer of his."
"He summoned the deer?" Sam asked, slightly jealous that Dean had gotten a good look at the deer that Sam had only glimpsed.
"Yeah, it sat in the backseat for a while, then faded," Dean answered. "I don't think he meant to have it fade, he seemed pretty pissed off at himself about it. It was those Dementor things though - and that's the other thing - they seem to effect him pretty bad too. You should have seen the look on his face...it was like he was all alone in the world."
Sam swallowed. They both knew exactly what that feeling was. Just as Sam was about to ask what happened next, something on the table started to glow, and a muffled female voice said "Harry?"
Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at where Harry had been sitting.
"Harry left his cell behind..." Dean suddenly said in realization, just as the voice spoke Harry's name again. "Dude, who sets up their phone to say their name?" Dean picked up Harry's 'phone' and flipped it open, just as Sam replied, "Dean, I don't think that's a phone."
But Dean had already flipped it open, a saucy smirk found it's way to his lips and Sam leveled him a glare...
"Well, hello there," Dean said. "What's Harry doing with a girl like you in his pocket?"
"Where's my husband?" the voice said, and Sam smiled as Dean's lecherous smirk fell.
"Phil," Harry said as soon as he apparated into the dark room. He flicked on the bedside lamp and shook Phil's shoulder. "Phil, wake up."
Phil's eyes opened a crack and met Harry's and suddenly he was scrambling up into a sitting position.
"Harry? I mean, sir...I mean, Harry...what is it?"
"I need to know whether you knew about the protocol with the Winchesters. I need to know whether you contacted the Department of Mysteries," Harry replied unapologetically.
"I knew, and no, I didn't," Phil responded glumly. "I...you said no one was to know who was with you. And, well, it's the squad commander's job to report to the Ministry, and although you don't have official rank over here, you are technically our acting squad commander. Not to mention the fact that you are Harry fucking Potter... If you want to report that I neglected protocol than go ahead, but so did you, you fucker...and I thought we had an understanding..."
Harry laughed, Phil always rambled when you caught him off guard, not to mention the inability to censor his language when he was tired. It was something that had amused Harry, when they had done field training together. The new spirit of international co-operation after the war had meant international field training exercises - and everyone had wanted a chance to do a rotation with Harry Potter, but Phil was one of the only people that Harry really hit it off with. It was mainly because their particular training exercise had them staying awake for three days straight. Phil had quickly become the foul-mouthed rambling sailor that he truly was deep down, and Harry had loved that there was still someone in the world who would could call him a "fucking British asshole" when Harry accidentally stepped on his foot.
"Phil, Phil..." Harry laughed, "Shut-up, mate. You did good. Only why didn't you tell me about the Department of Mysteries right away? Why'd you wait for me to read it?"
"Damn, Ha- Sir...I didn't want to tell you in front of them," Phil answered, "and the only time we were alone, you asked for the file anyway, and then ran off to talk to the team."
"Ok," Harry said, "Now the question is...do you know WHY the Department of Mysteries, Phil? Do you know what the talk is?"
"I wish I knew, Harry...Sir," Phil said, and Harry could tell he was waking up fully. "Only the higher-ups know. The rest of the team might recognize the name if they heard it - they'd know to report it to their commander, but they don't know why. I knew about the order because I'm usually squad commander...but I don't know why, that's higher up than I am. That's your level. Whatever it is, it's big, Harry."
"I was afraid of that," Harry sighed. "Phil... the Dementors are following them. Without the team, I couldn't hold a Patronus long enough to keep them safe. I don't know what they're mixed up in, but whatever it is, the Dementor behaviour is part of it. I need to figure this out."
"The Department of Mysteries..." Phil started to say.
"Cannot. Be. Told." Harry finished with finality. Phil pursed his lips.
"Please, Phil...I have a bad feeling about this. You know what happens when Wizards try to interfere with Hunters. I can't trust the Unspeakables with this...I just can't...those blokes are so removed from everything, they only work in theories...plus, I think the Winchesters trust me, if I were to turn them in now, it could bring a world of trouble down on our heads."
"You're right, of course, but maybe the Department of Mysteries knows what's going on..."
"They definitely know more than we do," Harry agreed, "but that doesn't mean that we have to turn in the Winchesters to find out. We just need access to their files."
Phil's eyes widened. "Are you seriously asking me to break into the Department of Mysteries?"
"I don't know what I'm asking," Harry sighed, "maybe I'm just telling you what we need to be thinking about."
Phil flopped back on the mattress, his eyes searching, Harry wondered if perhaps he thought he could divine an answer out of the speckled paint patterns on the ceiling.
"Well, I know one thing, Sir," Phil said.
"I'm not going to be getting much sleep now," Phil sighed.
"Sorry, Phil," Harry tried to say seriously, but he was grinning far too hard.
"Do you remember what I said to you, the fourth time you poked me awake on that endurance run outside of Perth?" Phil asked.
"The fourth time?" Harry pondered, "was that the time you said..." Harry did his best to put on an American accent, "'Mr. Potter, I respect you a great deal and I'm thankful that you saved all our lives, but if you keep me awake any longer I will break your fucking neck and dance on your grave'?"
"Yeah, that's the one," Phil said. "Sorry about that...but anyway, my point is...could you please get out of my room and leave me alone to wallow in my sleepless misery?"
Harry laughed. "Sorry for waking you, Phil, but you know you make it far too much fun for me."
"You're a bastard, Sir," Phil replied, just before Harry turned on the spot and returned to the Winchester's room.
"Seriously? I didn't think it was possible for a woman to have three kids and look as good as you..." Dean was saying. Harry looked at him in confusion and then spotted the smooth silver of his flip mirror. Realization dawned in slow horror, just as Harry caught the 'oh shit' expression on Sam's face, and the teasing smirk appear on Dean's face.
"Harry, man, you shouldn't neglect a girl like this, someone's liable to steal her away from you..." Dean said with a wink, as Harry crossed over to him in quick strides and snatched the mirror out of his hands.
"Give me that," Harry said, holding the mirror to his chest. Dean put up his hands up in mock surrender and laughed.
Slowly, Harry looked down to see how mad Ginny was. Surprisingly, she didn't look mad at all, but upon recognizing the blush that graced her face, Harry decided that he would much prefer it if she was.
"Gin?" Harry said curiously.
"Hi Harry," Ginny replied, "So, who's your new American friend?"