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. The events of the story take place sometime in early 2009.
A/N to chapter 17: A little shorter this time, but the next chapter totally makes up for it, I promise.
Summary: In which Harry meets someone interesting and then defends Malfoy's honour.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Harry stood in front of Entry 4, Shelf 66, in row 42 of the Hall of Prophecy and stared at the small glimmering glass ball in front of him. The simple label in front of it read: "Winchester, Sam and Dean. August 18th, 2008." In truth, he didn't really know why he had come here. He couldn't pick up the prophecy without going mad and he knew full well that staring at it wasn't going to reveal any of the words contained within. Only the people named in the prophecy could take it from the shelf. The only information he had was on the piece of paper already in his hand, and he could read that any where at any time. Furthermore, Harry wasn't even sure why he hadn't just brought the Winchesters in here so that they could listen to the prophecy - or why he hadn't told them about the prophecy...why he really didn't want to tell them about the prophecy - ok, maybe he did know why, but that didn't explain why he felt the need to stand there and stare at it.
"You know you cannot touch it," a deep voice suddenly said from beside him. Harry jumped, his wand flying into his hand as he turned. There, giving him an unblinking stare, was a man in a trench coat.
"I could go get them," Harry replied, mind reeling. The man gave off an aura of power, yet Harry was certain he wasn't a wizard. A demon, perhaps, but why talk rather than attack? To throw Harry off guard? Harry considered. "Is that what that demon was after? This prophecy?"
"No, the demons do not know of this prophecy," The man replied. Not a demon, then, Harry thought. Yet, not a wizard - and no Muggle could have found their way here.
"Are you...?" Harry began, trying to figure out how exactly to ask, "...Cas?"
"Castiel," the angel replied slowly, his brow furrowing ever so slightly, "Dean has a...fondness...for nicknames."
"Sorry," Harry muttered, suddenly unsure of how he should continue. He had talked to Centaurs, Giants, and Merfolk, but never Angels. "I could go get Dean."
"But you won't," Castiel responded enigmatically. Harry frowned, of course he would get Dean if the angel wanted him to, why wouldn't he? But then, why hadn't Castiel just appeared to Dean? Harry stared at Castiel in confusion, watching the glimmering light from the prophecies reflecting in his blue eyes. The prophecies. Harry suddenly remembered where he was. He glanced down at the slightly crinkled paper in his hand.
"What happened to the Seer?" Harry asked ignoring his main unasked question.
"Not all Seers have the privilege of forgetting their predictions," Castiel stated. "He killed himself."
Harry swallowed against the dread welling up inside him. He glanced back down at the page in his hands.
"And this was all that the witnesses could recall?" He asked, knowing the answer already.
"Yes, the Seer attempted to erased their memories as an act of compassion," Castiel answered.
"And you don't want Dean to know?" Harry asked looking up from the paper and into the angels eyes. Harry was surprised to see Castiel's expressionless mask falter, if only for a brief moment.
"What I want is irrelevant," Castiel finally answered.
"I don't understand," Harry muttered, what was Castiel doing here if not warning Harry away from the prophecy?
"Did knowing your prophecy aid you?" Castiel asked instead of trying to explain himself.
"Yes," Harry replied, "I knew that I was the one that had to kill Voldemort."
"So if you had not heard the prophecy, you would not have attempted to defeat Tom Riddle?" Castiel asked further.
"Of course I would have," Harry replied without hesitation.
"So, knowledge of the prophecy changed nothing," Castiel concluded. Harry's jaw dropped slightly, and he tried a few aborted sentences that never made it past his lips, before realizing that he couldn't really argue against that. Merlin, sometimes he really wished Hermione was around - She could probably argue with angels and win.
"But this is different," Harry finally said. "My prophecy wasn't like this!" he tapped the piece of paper in emphasis.
"You would not have preferred your prophecy to say something else? You were content with your roll in the Second Wizarding War?" Castiel asked further.
"What? No. I mean..." Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Merlin, he felt like crying. He glanced around the room, then laughed inwardly, realizing he was hoping for divine intervention to help him understand divine intervention. When his eyes finally settled back on Castiel, he found the angel studying him in open curiosity.
"What is it?" Harry asked, surprised when Castiel seemed to catch himself and school his expression.
"It is nothing. I just..." Castiel began, Harry practically held his breath, as he realized that the angel was actually having difficulty putting something into words. "...you have green eyes."
Harry didn't know what he had expected, but he knew that wasn't it.
"Is that important?" Harry asked.
"No," Castiel said, and Harry could have sworn the angel was embarrassed. "It is just an observation."
"Ok..." Harry replied. This truly was a bizarre experience.
"They are waiting for you," Castiel said. Harry wondered what that had to do with the colour of his eyes, and then realized that Castiel had returned to the original topic of conversation.
"What gives me the right to keep this from them?" Harry asked aloud staring down at the paper, unsure whether he was arguing against Castiel or asking the angel to validate a decision Harry had already made.
Castiel didn't answer.
"Lone wolves die, Castiel," Harry said.
Castiel didn't answer.
Harry looked up to find himself alone.
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered to the empty air.
He thought of the memories he had seen. The ones they had used - them together. Dean's was the only one that included their father, but both had been surrounded with the feeling of being home. Dean pressed against a car window pane, Sam pressed against his side, his father in the driver's seat, and all that Harry had felt through Dean were the feelings of love and 'home.' Sam's memory of Dean holding him, Dean holding him and the all around them the room kept shifting, as though Sam couldn't really remember the room they had been in, or more likely, that they had been in several, but the one thing Harry recognized was that it was always a crappy motel room, or occasionally a rustic cabin. The only thing in the memory that had never changed was Dean, strong and always there. Harry knew that all those two had were each other.
Harry reread the words on the page, though he already had them memorized. Carefully, he folded the paper and placed it in his shoulder bag.
Witness reports recount only the first lines with any clarity:
Two brothers, torn apart by Heaven and Hell -
The Alpha and the Omega of the End.
Dean had to admit that what the things these wizards could do were useful. He and Sam had given Phil and Malfoy the rundown on demons, and Malfoy had immediately begun to conjure water out of thin air for Sam to bless.
It was odd not to have Harry there. Dean hadn't realized how much Harry had served as sort of buffer this whole time. Well, at least Dean had spoken to Malfoy on his own before - Draco? what kind of a name was that anyway? weird wizards, it's like his parent's wanted him to be a stereotype.
It didn't look like Phil was afraid of them, like Draco had been - maybe still was. Phil listened with rapt attention, maybe still a little shaken up from having been possessed. Dean was still a little wary of the man though. Unlike Malfoy, Phil knew that Sam was different. Though, Dean reminded himself, Malfoy had read their file and Dean still didn't know what was in there.
Dean studied Malfoy for a long minute while Sam was showing him and Phil what a devil's trap looked like. The blond wizard looked nervous, but that was probably due to the demons. He wasn't looking at Sam in suspicion or curiosity, if anything, there was a little more respect in his gaze now.
Still there was a tightness to the air whenever Phil or Malfoy spoke. At first, Dean wondered if it was due to the fact that Harry had left Dean and Sam in charge, and wizards didn't like to answer to regular humans, but then Dean realized that Phil and Malfoy never looked at each other. The animosity in the room wasn't between the wizards and the hunters, but between the wizards themselves.
"...of course, we probably won't have time to draw any devil's traps, but you should know about them anyway, just in case..." Sam was saying. Dean knew that Sam was just trying to fill up the time before Harry got back, so that the civilians didn't have time to get nervous. It was a trick Sam had learnt when he was still a teenager, and one that Dean realized their Dad really could have used over the years - Dean knew how nervous people could get in his father's presence. He had always tried to soften his Dad's edges by smiling and trying to lighten the mood, and it had worked pretty well. Sam's strategy though seemed to work better - he would actually teach the people stuff, keep talking to them, explaining things whenever it was possible to explain things. All the silence was filled up with Sam's voice, and no one had time to be nervous, they were too busy listening.
"I have a spell that could make one almost instantly," Malfoy interrupted.
"Really?" Dean asked, intrigued.
"Yes, it's actually quite simple. School children can do it," Malfoy replied, he glanced down at the diagram of the devil's trap that Sam held, and waved his wand at the floor beside them. Sure enough, black inky lines began to stretch themselves into the familiar form of the pentagram, and after only a few seconds, there was a complete devil's trap where nothing had been before.
"That's awesome!" Dean said smiling. Malfoy gave him a smug grin.
"In the wizarding world, Winchester, that's the equivalent of a simple parlour trick," Malfoy replied. "I could show you far more impressive things than that."
"...'bly dark magic," Dean suddenly heard Phil mutter angrily. Malfoy's grin faded and Dean knew he had heard it too.
"Can you and Harry do this too?" Dean asked Phil tersely, pointing at Malfoy's devil's trap, deciding the best way to deal with animosity between the wizards was to try to ignore it for now.
"Yes, of course," Phil answered simply.
"Ok, change of plans then," Dean stated. "How's your Latin?"
"Excellent," and "Most incantations are based on the Latin..." Malfoy and Phil answered, respectively, at the same time.
"Ok," Dean said. "If Roger's the only one up there and he's possessed, we go with Plan A. If there is more than one demon, then we'll split into two groups. Harry and Malfoy with me, and Phil with Sam. One person on each team will be in charge of the devil's trap, the other in charge of reading or, in Sam's case, reciting the exorcism. Do you guys have any paper? I can make you copies of the devil's trap diagram to work from."
"No need," Malfoy stated. "I can make copies." He took the diagram and laid it on the floor, waving his wand wordlessly at it. A second identical diagram appeared beside it. Then he repeated the process once more. Dean handed him the page with the exorcism so he could do the same to it.
"How come you guys only have to say incantations some of the time?" Sam asked from beside him.
"When you do certain spells a lot, especially relatively simple ones, you don't have to say the words," Malfoy answered. "It's like any task - the more you do it, the easier it becomes - sometimes you don't even need to use a wand."
"Is that true for the Unforgivables as well?" Phil asked in a low tone.
"I assure you, I wouldn't know," Malfoy replied in a tight voice. Dean could tell Sam was about to ask what an Unforgivable was, and he really didn't think that was a good idea. He needed to think of something to distract everyone with, the last thing they needed was for Phil and Malfoy to get into a fight before they even found out how many demons were waiting for them.
"As a matter of fact, Phil, it is true of the Unforgivables," Harry's voice suddenly said from the staircase above them. "It's also true that Draco wouldn't know. I have far more experience with them than he has. Also, you should be glad we're doing something illegal or I would be suspending you just now for not being able to get along with your teammates."
Dean watched as Phil paled, but he didn't reply. Malfoy looked like he was trying to decide whether he should be happy, concerned, or angry. Sam still looked like he wanted to ask what an Unforgiveable was, and Dean still thought that wouldn't be a very good thing to ask right now.
"Little help here, Malfoy?" Harry said. "The stairs seem to have reset themselves."
Malfoy waved his wand silently in Harry's general direction and the stairs slid into a path, which Harry quickly jogged down even as the stairs in front of him were still shifting into place. Once he was able to actually reach them, Harry clapped a hand to Phil's shoulder, and spoke in a less authoritarian voice.
"Listen, I know you've had a rough night, and I know you think I'm slightly crazy and I'm going to get you fired, and I know that you think Malfoy is a git," Harry said, and Dean glanced over at Malfoy to see him roll his eyes and sigh. "But," Harry continued, "I also know that while you were here in America dealing with your scary cases of espionage and bribery, there were those of us in Britain who were living with monsters. So, maybe you should show a little respect."
Harry's voice had grown steadily harder while he spoke, until in the end, Dean felt like he had just watched his father give someone a dressing-down. He glanced at Sam and could tell he was thinking the exact same thing. Hell, Sammy would know, their Dad had taken him down a peg or two in the past. Malfoy was staring at the floor, looking as though he would like it to swallow him.
"Sorry, sir," Phil said. Harry nudged him with an elbow, "and uh, my apologies to Mr. Malfoy."
"No problem," Harry replied with a smile, "I understand. I once swore vengeance on a man who had spent six years doing his best to keep me alive."
Malfoy chuckled lowly at that. Dean admired Harry's ability to chastise a man fifteen years his senior, and also his ability to immediately diffuse a situation.
"So, fill me in on the plan," Harry said. "Why's Draco standing on a devil's trap?"
They had all forgotten about the devil's trap that Draco had painted on the floor - including Draco it seemed, who hastily erased it. Dean and Sam launched into a brief rundown of the plan to Harry. It had several scenerios given that they didn't know what was waiting for them upstairs.
Once Harry was caught up, Dean made sure everyone was armed with holy water, a copy of the devil's trap diagram and the exorcism. He unsheathed the demon-knife, just in case, but assured Harry that it'd only be used as a last resort. Then they passed out the amulets.
"What are these?" Draco asked, examining the engraving.
"They'll protect you from being possessed," Dean answered.
"Would've been nice to have one of these a little earlier," Phil said. Sam winced in sympathy.
"Well, according to you guys, demons don't like possessing wizards," Dean answered. "Plus, up until that one possessed you, we didn't have confirmation that demons were even involved."
"Don't you guys need amulets too?" Harry asked, "or does that gold one you're wearing do the same thing."
"No, and no," Dean answered. "We got the engraving tattooed on our chests, so we only have to worry if we get skinned."
"I take it you come across demons a lot," Draco asked.
"Enough, yeah," Dean replied, "plus, it's not much fun having some demon shoot you while it's wearing your brother."
"Fuckin' Meg," Sam muttered. Dean grinned at Draco.
"Sammy, here had a chick inside him for over a week," Dean explained. "Sad thing is, if she hadn't been a demon, I doubt anyone would have noticed."
"You are such a jerk," Sam replied. "Do you want me to tell them about the cat? Because I will, Dean."
"You..." Dean started, but then figured Sam might actually mean it. So, instead he threw the duffle bag to Sam and said, "Who's ready to go kick some demon ass?"
Sam hoisted their duffle onto his shoulder and gave Dean a victorious grin. Dean gave the wizards a smile that seemed to put them on edge rather than at ease.
"What about the paintings?" Dean asked once they were in the elevator.
"Leave it to me," Harry replied.
When the doors opened, Harry motioned for them to wait, while he strode out purposefully. He raised his wand and spoke another Latin-sounding incantation. Dean couldn't see what was happening from inside the elevator, but whatever it was, Harry seemed pleased with himself. He beckoned them forward.
Upon entering the hallway, Dean had to admit to himself that magic was pretty damn cool. Grey smoke fell from the tops of the walls, like slow waterfalls, covering the paintings completely. Once the smoke reached the floor, it spilled out into the hall for only an instant, before vanishing into nothingness. The sconces lining the walls stuck out from the smoke, parting the shifting grey briefly, and highlighting the smoke and the hallway in blue flickering flames.
"If they wake, they'll be suspicious", Draco's voice came from behind Dean.
"But they can't hear or see who we are, and that's the important part," Harry replied, and then took off towards the door at the end of the hall.
Once they were all at the end of the hall. Dean and Sam pushed Malfoy and Phil into the corners by the door, where they would be out of the line of sight of anyone in entrance hall once the door was open. They gave Harry a quick nod.
Harry quickly opened the door enough for him to stick his head into the entrance hall to have a look, then suddenly he was dropping to the floor, as a red flash of light splintered the wood where his head had just been. Harry's hand had never left the door handle and he used it to snap the door closed.
"Definitely not Roger," Harry muttered.