Fandoms: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing)
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, Spoilers up to 4x17 for Supernatural.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke, Harry Potter belongs to Rowling.
A/N: I thought that the Battle of Hogwarts took place in Spring 1997...so that's what I based my timeline on. Since then I've seen that most sources have it in 1998. Ah well. In this story it's 1997.
A/N to chap 13: The much anticipated Patronus chapter! I think I'm going to try for a Thursday night update schedule. I'm about to get VERY busy so I'm hoping that a regular schedule will ensure that I at least get one chapter written per week.
Summary: In which the Winchesters get their Patronuses.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
Harry had decided to start with Dean, because he needed the Patronus more than Sam, though Harry figured they ran a pretty tight race. In the back of his mind, Harry mainly just wanted to start with something simple. In everything so far, Dean appeared as pure Muggle, unlike Sam, who was something else. Although Harry had never done this before, he figured it would be simpler to try it on a Muggle first than trying to tackle whatever Sam was.
With the amount of magic roaring through his body - and sweet Lord, it felt good - Harry didn't need to make eye contact, or even have his eyes open for that matter. He simply spoke the incantation and opened the door to Dean's mind with a concentrated thought.
Dean's thoughts presented themselves like scenes from a TV show. There was a darkskinned woman, naked and...Harry blushed, well technically it was a happy memory. He gathered the ambiant magic in the room around him and willed it towards Dean, creating a link between them. Harry could suddenly feel breath in Dean's lungs, his determination to block out the distractions of the room and stay in his memories, his swirling emotions.
Harry couldn't tell if Dean knew about the link, or even if he knew that Harry was roaming around in his head. So far, Dean remained sitting still, conventrating on the memories as instructed. Harry was thankful for that. Since Harry had asked Dean to think of the memory, he didn't need to go rooting around in Dean's mind. So, unlike the invasion of the mind that Harry had experienced at the hands of Snape, it was more like Harry was passively eavesdropping without Dean's knowledge.
Harry brought his attention back to Dean's memory. It had changed. Dean was growing frustrated. The dark-skinned woman was walking away. Harry felt the rejection. He felt, as Dean did, as though he had laid himself open, only to be spat upon.
"New memory, Dean," Harry instructed out loud, and Dean's thoughts faded out and refocused. Dean was mowing a lawn in the sunshine, then sitting in a nice restaurant with Sam, two girls, and an older woman. Family, Harry thought, yet somehow it was off. Although Dean was happy, there was a bittersweet quality to it. Harry realized that it wasn't real, Dean was happy, but the memory was laced with an the odd melancholy of someone borrowing another life. Then, there was an odd sensation of missing Sam, even though he was sitting at the table.
"Try something else, Dean," Harry said, hoping that he wouldn't need to come back to that one. It felt too strange. Dean's thoughts refocused again, and now there was Sam. Sam holding the box of tapes from the Impala in the morning sun, listing the bands, calling it mullet-rock, looking upset when Dean called him Sammy and turned up the music.
Sam kissing a girl in a doorway. Sam laughing as Dean tried to pry a beer bottle out of his hand and cursing. Sam turning away from a mirror towards Dean in confusion, blood staining the back of his shirt and bare mattress behind him - Sam back from the dead. Harry cringed as Dean's emotions flooded into him through the link, happiness, love - so much love - so much desperation - fear - love.
"New memory, Dean," Harry repeated his voice choked. Deans thoughts were pulled back sharply, leaving Harry's connection momentarily bereft. A new scene appeared. An older man stood over Dean, hand on his shoulder. He wore a five-day old beard and his grip was strong and steady. Dad, Harry thought, and honestly didn't know if it was his thought or Dean's. Dean held the gun steady, fingers just long enough to reach the trigger. In the distance, bottles sat on the fence. One, two, three, four, five, six - one for each year he had lived - the shots rang out across the field, loud and deafening, but Dean wasn't frightened. He looked up at his father, who was looking at the shattered bottles. His Dad smiled.
"Dean, concentrate on the memory and speak the words 'Expecto Patronum'," Harry said, helping Dean to hold the memory in his head despite the distraction of Harry's voice.
"Expecto Patronum," Dean spoke uncertainly, and Harry felt the magic manifest - blurry and vague in front of Dean. Harry opened his eyes, and took in the indeterminate shape, It wasn't quite there yet.
"Again," Harry said, closing his eyes again to better track Dean's memories. The same memory, the feel of the gun, the shattered glass, the smile...then the scene shifted. At first the angle didn't make sense to Harry, but then he recognized the interior of the Impala, the back of Dean's father's head, the morning sun streaming through the windows, the rumble of the engine, the pleasant groggyness of sleep, Sam curled agains Dean's side sound asleep with Dean's right arm draped over his shoulders. Dean caught his father's eyes in the rearview mirror. Dean smiled and his father smiled back, and Sam made a mewing noise and burrowed further into Dean's chest.
"Expecto Patronum," Dean spoke evenly, and Harry opened his eyes as he felt the magic manifest sharper than it had before. The blue light in the rest of the room dulling, as it swirled in front of Dean to form an animal. Harry's breath caught.
Standing infront of Dean was a large silvery-blue wolf - powerful, beautiful, strong. Harry had seen wolf Patronuses before, but this one was different. This one made the others pale in comparison. It was the eyes. The way they seemed to look around the room - at Harry, at Sam. The only way Harry could describe it was to say that the wolf knew. It knew.
"You can open your eyes for this next part," Harry said, "but hold onto the emotions from that memory."
Harry watched as both Dean and Sam opened their eyes. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the wolf, but then he smiled. Harry smiled too. It wasn't uncommon for Wizards to recognize the Patronuses of their loved ones without ever having seem them previously. Harry knew the feeling well. Afterall, he had followed a silver doe through the forest once without knowing the caster, and Snape had hardly been a loved one.
Dean's eyes took in the wolf and he smiled, the same smile Harry had seen reflected in the rearview mirror.
Harry began the necessarily incantations, quietly, so as not to break Dean's mood. First he worked to alter the Patronus' dependency on Dean's emotions. This required pouring a lot of his own magic into the charm, as it went against the nature of a Patronus to be independent. Once the link was as small as he could make it, he began the work of transfering the Patronus into a non-corporeal form that was just as strong. After chanting incantations for a solid five minutes, the wolf swirled infront of them, losing shape and twisting, as it funneled itself backwards towards Dean. It swirled around him once, until Harry was able to direct it properly to the silver ring on Dean's hand, which glowed blue for a second and then faded back to silver. Harry smiled kindly at the bereft expression on Dean's face.
"Don't worry," Harry stated, "as long as you have that ring, it's still with you."
It had all taken under ten minutes, but Harry felt like it had been hours. Taking a deep breath, he refocused the magic in the room back to himself. Letting it ease some of the fatigue that he was already feeling.
"Now, Sam," Harry said, once he felt at ease with the amount of magic in the room again, and slid his eyes closed as Sam did the same.
Sam closed his eyes, and tried to decide on a memory. Since Dean had gone first, he knew what to expect - for instance he knew that Harry might ask him to change memories if the one he chose wasn't working...or at least he thought he knew what to expect.
No sooner had he started thinking about his first date with Jess, then he felt a weird second presence in his mind. He realized that it was Harry. Harry was in his head. Had Dean felt this? His instinct was to shut Harry out. To close the doors that Harry had opened, to hide all his good memories where Harry couldn't get them.
"Sam," Harry's voice echoed in the chamber. "I'm sorry, but it's not going to work if don't let me in."
"Sam...?" Dean said concerned. Sam realized Dean must have let Harry see his memories. And if Dean could do it...
"Right...right, sorry," Sam replied, and focused back on the memory, only now Dean was in his head, so instead of thinking of his first date with Jess, Sam thought about the weekend he spent with Dean in Jericho. How it had been nice to see Dean again after all those years, how it had finally felt like his life was coming together - he had his girlfriend, he was on speaking terms with his brother. That had been a happy moment - when he bit into that cookie and flopped down on the bed. Only Jess had been pinned to the ceiling and fire was everywhere, and Sam's whole life was in pieces.
"Sam," Harry cut through his thoughts, and Sam couldn't tell if Harry was speaking into the room or just into his mind. "A new memory please" Harry finished in a whisper.
Sam refocused. Thinking of Jess had been a bad idea. He mentally shuffled through his life, trying to decide on a memory that would be work. There were memories of Dean. Dean covered in mud calling him a bitch. Dean trying to pry a beer bottle off of his hand while Sam laughed at him. Dean smiling at him from the sidelines of the soccer field, looking over his shoulder in case their Dad realized that he wasn't bow-hunting and came looking for him. There was Dean singing along to Bon Jovi like they didn't have a care in the world, even though Dean was going to die - even though in a couple of hours the hell-hounds were going to rip Dean to shreds while Sam screamed.
"Sam," Harry's voice cut in again. "You, uh, almost had it there...but..."
Sam mentally shook himself and tried again. There was Dean standing outside his hotel room next to Bobby. Alive. Bobby telling Sam it was really Dean. Dean's chest breathing against his, the familiar way Dean fisted the back of Sam's shirt whenever he hugged him. Dean hugging him. When Sam was really young, Dean would kiss his forehead and hum Led Zeppelin songs until Sam fell asleep. And if Sam had a nightmare, Dean would hug him tightly, scrunching the back of his shirt, and would say, "shh Sammy, I got you" in a gentle voice.
"That one," Harry whispered, and Sam held onto the ghost of the memory. As he did so, he felt the hairs on his arm stand up, as a power seemed to flow into him from his lefthand side. It hummed through his veins in a similar way that the demon blood did after a hit; but different - it didn't feel dirty like the demon blood, it felt almost natural. As though this power was always around him, he had just never noticed it before. It felt good.
"Concentrate Sam, ignore my presence," Harry spoke, and Sam realized that the power he felt was Harry's, this was Harry's power - the core of Harry's magic. Harry's voice continued, "The words are Expecto Patronum." Sam refocused on the memory, the Led Zeppelin song, Dean's voice.
"Expecto Patronum," Sam said, and felt the magic running through him surge forward out of him quickly, swirling in front of him in turmoil. Sam opened his eyes to see a mess of concentrated blue-light hit Dean square in the chest.
"Shit!" Harry swore as Dean rocked back slightly and struggled to breathe, his eyes wide open, green eyes turning silvery-blue.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, and moved to stand up.
"DON'T MOVE!" Harry yelled. Sam froze. Harry's wand was pointed at Dean.
"Finite Incantatum!" Harry said, and Dean swayed again. Sam watched in relief as the silver blue tinge left his eyes and the familiar green returned. Dean took a steadying breath and looked at Sam.
"What the hell was that?" Dean wheezed.
"How the hell should I know!" Sam replied. Both brothers turned to Harry, and Sam was surprised to see that Harry's breathing was laboured and his face pale.
"Harry?" Dean asked, obviously noting the same thing.
"We don't have much time left," Harry said, instead of answering any of their questions. "Again, Sam. I'm going to...umm, I'm going to try to use Dean as a kind of grounding in our connection. He won't be able to see your memories, but he'll be able to feel them. Is that ok?"
"Yeah, whatever you say, Harry," Sam answered, just as Dean said, "Sure thing, man." Harry was very pale, Sam's only thought was that the sooner they were done, the better it would be.
"Ok, Dean, clear your mind and think about Sam," Harry said, taking a deep breath. Sam could feel the energy in the room swirl around Harry once more. "Sam, concentrate on the memory you used, when I tell you, say the words."
Sam closed his eyes again and thought of the memory. This time he could recognized the exact instant that Harry re-entered his mind. He ignored Harry's presence, and focused further on the memory. Harry's magic swirled through him again, humming in his veins. Then he felt a prickle of something else, something that didn't belong to him and didn't belong to Harry. He knew this was Dean, skirting around the very edges of his consciousness. It was just a vague feeling of his brother, yet it matched up so well with the memory - this feeling of 'I've got you, Sammy.' The memory seemed clearer with Dean's presence there, as though it wasn't a memory at all, but happening while they sat there.
"Now," Harry whispered.
"Expecto Patronum," Sam said calmly and eveningly. Again, he felt the magic swirl out of him in a rush, but before he could panic, he felt Dean's presence envelope him. It was as though Dean acted as a dam, preventing the magic from overwhelming Sam as it had before. Sam focused on the memory as the magic stopped rushing out of him and seemed to change into a steady flow.
"Open your eyes," Harry said, and Sam did.
In front of him stood a large raven. Sam was only surprised by the fact that he wasn't surprised. He hadn't known what animal to expect, but for some reason the raven seemed to make sense.
Dean was looking at it too, one eyebrow quirked up quizzically. As the raven took in the room, it's eyes settled on Dean. It stretched its wings out to their full span and looked at him defiantely. Dean's eyes widened. Sam smiled. In the back of his mind, he could still feel Dean. 'So this is you, eh Sammy?' and Sam thought, 'I guess so.'
The raven spun and swirled into silvery-blue light, and for a moment Sam was worried that something was wrong again, but then he realized that Harry had been chanting under his breath, and this was the same as what had happened to Dean's wolf. The swirling energy flew towards Sam, to his wrist and the narrow black band on it. Only, when the blue light faded, the narrow band was oddly a little wider. About as wide as Dean's silver ring.
Sam smiled. It had worked. He felt Dean's relief just before their connection was abruptly cut off.
"How much time do we have left?" Harry asked weakly, and Sam's eyes widened at how pale Harry was. He looked like he was suffering from severe blood-loss.
"About two minutes, I think," Dean said, looking at his watch, eyeing Harry in increasingly panicked concern.
"Oh God," Harry moaned. "Someone go get Malfoy!"