Fandoms: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing)
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, Spoilers up to 4x17 for Supernatural (but takes place around 4x11).
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.
Summary: In which Sam and Harry run around and Dean discovers a new talent
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | Interlude | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 |
Sam, Harry, and Deacon, made a wide circle and came up behind the North-team, who stood in a line while silvery-blue animals - Sam couldn't tell which one was whose - darted forward and back and side to side in front of them. Sam realized that the wizards were using their Patronuses as sheep dogs. As soon as they approached, Sam felt the chill in the air lessen, and the manic desperation that had been building inside of him went along with it.
"How are you holding up?" Harry asked, and Sam was surprised to hear the genuine concern in it. Harry tugged at their joined wrists to make Sam look at him.
"I'm alright," Sam said truthfully. He couldn't see the Dementors, not really, there was a heavy fog just ahead of the shepherding Patronuses, and occasionally there would be a flutter of something black within it.
"Good, come on" Harry said, and tugged Sam forward.
Deacon was still ahead of them, and Sam watched as he learned over to the closest wizard and said something. The wizard immediately snapped to attention and then turned to look at Harry and Sam, giving them an extremely professional nod. The wizard couldn't be more than twenty, Sam realized. He looked down the line and realized they were all young.
"Less life-experiences," Harry whispered, "less time in the job...less memories."
Sam nodded, realizing his expression must have given away his shock.
"First time I saw a Dementor," Harry continued, "I was thirteen. It stood in the doorway and I fainted. I was the only kid in the whole school to faint."
Harry pulled Sam towards the line of wizards before Sam could respond. He kept his mouth shut as Harry went down the line, telling everyone what a great job they were doing, asking some how long they were able to maintain their Patronus before recasting, and no matter what answer they gave, Harry would look impressed and congratulate them. Sam found himself wishing that his Dad had tried the positive-reinforcement approach, rather than the 'you better do better next time or your brother will die' approach.
Sam worried that Harry was distracting the team too much, because the longer they stayed there, the more the Dementors seemed to resist being pushed towards the centre of town. They started getting close enough to the line of Patronuses that Sam could see them. It didn't hurt his head like the last time though, he glanced down to where the crystal pendant was dangling between his and Harry's hands, and figured that it must be close enough to him to still work.
After Harry had spoken to all of the North-team, they followed Deacon to the West-team to repeat the process. It was the space in between meeting up with the teams that was the hardest for Sam. He'd start remembering the way Dean screamed as the hell-hounds tore into him, the way the blood looked circling the drain, as Sam cut Dean's torn clothes off his corpse, and washed him so that he wouldn't get his favorite black t-shirt all bloody.
"Deacon," Harry called from beside Sam, "could you..."
Sam pulled his head up and looked at Deacon dully, wondering if maybe Harry was tired of jogging. Sam's brow furrowed as Deacon gave him a slightly wide-eyed look, and then pointed his wand to their left. A silvery-blue sparrow erupted from the end of it and darted towards the centre of town driving back a black figure, then looped back and flew along side Sam for a bit, before darting back towards the centre of town again.
It was a really pretty bird, Sam thought, then he realized what had happened.
"Thanks..." Sam said, so that Deacon could hear him too. Deacon gave him a small smile and continued to jog a little bit ahead of them.
"Don't forget about your bracelet, Sam" Harry said, softly so that only Sam could hear him, "you have to recognize the symptoms, and then concentrate on it."
Half-way through talking to the West team, Harry's Patronus came trotting back to him, Sam was happy to see it. Just like with the North team, after they had been there for a couple of minutes, the Dementors seemed to be resisting more, and Sam was glad they had another Patronus to drive back the chill in the air.
Afterward, Harry decided that they'd head back towards Phil and help with containment once the Dementors were driven to the park. On the way there, they would be looking out for Muggle civilians that might need assistance. Sam looked into the fog covering the town, shot a grateful glance at Harry's Patronus, and then followed the tug on his wrist where Harry and he were still tied together.
"...Harry's with Sam and I'm with Dean. The plan is to contain the Dementors, but we have to make sure the Muggle population is safe."
Dean could feel them, it was getting worse...the screams, his own, others...he tried to think of bulls-eying those bottles, playing with his ring on his finger. He felt a little better.
"Ron, I'm not sure you should-"
Dean turned down another street, the fog was a little thicker here. He wondered where Sam had gone when he was dead for those two days.
"Don't worry, love. I just wanted to let you know where we were, in case you went back to the safe-house and worried we weren't there. Has your research turned up anything?"
Up ahead he saw some people out of their house. One of them was definitely feeling something. Dean pulled over.
"I think so yes, I just have to finish this translation-"
"Great, Hermione, listen, I have to go, Dean's spotted something."
"Ok, but Ron, this translation-"
"I'm sure you'll get it, I have to go. Love you."
Dean got out of the car, just as Ron snapped his mirror shut. A few yards ahead there was a sobbing woman, sitting on the curb with a stroller, and a man bent over her. Dean heard Ron's footsteps fall into sync with his as they approached.
"Sir, ma'am, is everything alright?" Dean said kindly.
The man looked at the woman in confused exasperation.
"I think it might be post-partum, though she's been fine for the past few weeks," he replied, voice edged with concern, "she just won't stop crying."
"Ma'am?" Dean asked, but the woman seemed to be sobbing too much to answer.
"How about you go inside and put on a nice cup of tea," Ron suggested.
"We were going to walk over to my mother's house," the man replied, "she's expecting us...Nancy was fine an hour ago..."
"You know," Dean said, "similar thing happened to my wife. I think my buddy here is right. A hot drink and a nap, and she'll be ok...actually, you know what really worked for...Lisa...was chocolate. You got any chocolate? I bet if you take your wife inside, give her some chocolate, and put her to bed, she'll be fine by morning. I'm sure you could call your mother up and explain that Nancy's feeling a little under the weather."
"Chocolate and a nap?" the man replied, confused, "this is more serious than that, I think."
"Hey Ron," Dean said, "You still have those Snickers bars. I bet Nancy here would love a Snickers."
"Oh sure," Ron said, producing a Snickers bar immediately. Dean unwrapped the end and crouched down next to Nancy. She looked briefly at him, but Dean wasn't entirely sure she was in the present...Dean's own mind kept snapping back and forth: Woman sobbing on the curb, woman screaming in hell.
"Listen Mister, I really don't think..." the man was starting to say. Dean ignored him and broke off a piece of chocolate with his fingers.
"Here, Nancy, I'll make it easy," he said gently, and pushed the chocolate past her lips gently.
"What do you...!" Dean saw the man's arm dart out towards him, but Ron was quicker and grabbed the man's wrist before he could touch Dean.
"It's alright," Ron said calmly, "it'll help."
Dean watched as Nancy's eyes finally focused on him, and her sobbing stopped, then she was chewing and swallowing. Dean smiled.
"Thank you" Nancy whispered.
"Not a problem," Dean said with a wink, and then wrapped Nancy's hand around the rest of the chocolate bar. "Now, I think you should go inside, and eat all the chocolate in the house, and don't come out until morning. Spoil yourself a little. You deserve it."
Nancy lips twitched at the corners, and Dean counted it as a victory. He helped her stand, and gave a smile to her bewildered husband. Without another word, Nancy turned and pushed the stroller back into the house.
"Uh, thanks?" her husband said, and then followed her back inside.
"Thanks for having my back, man" Dean said, turning back to the car, "poor woman, I wonder what the hell happened to her..."
She hadn't been screaming in hell. No, that was someone else. Thousands. Thousands of screams, his own too...outloud, then in his head - though the blood was beautiful, the way it dripped slow across their soul's flesh...somewhere he was still screaming...
"Dean," Ron said, and Dean found a chocolate bar being shoved at him, "you should have one too."
"Yeah, yeah..." Dean said absent-mindedly, but dutifully ate. Man, Snickers were delicious, and that Nancy woman had been pretty attractive for a hysterical chick.
Dean and Ron hadn't gone far when they spotted a group of men, glumly walking down the road. Dean was contemplating leaving them alone, when movement at the end of the street caught his attention. There were black shapes, like robed skeletons, flying slowly towards them. They were still far away, only figures in the mist on the horizon, but Dean knew instinctively what would happen as soon as they caught sight of the humans and those men were unknowingly walking straight towards them.
"Those," Dean said, voice rough, "are Dementors?"
"Yes, we've got to get these men out of the open," Ron answered, already opening his door, "and quickly."
Dean didn't bother parking, he just stopped his car in the middle of the street and got out. He turned the ring on his finger, and thought of that weekend with Lisa Braedan all those years ago, and then followed Ron up to the men.
"Excuse me, Gentlemen," Ron was saying circling around in front of the men, so that he was blocking their way, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to return to your homes immediately. There's a convict on the loose and he's armed and dangerous."
Dean raised an eyebrow at the excuse, but immediately switched to Cop-mode and stood behind Ron.
"You don't look like a cop, man," one of the guys told Ron, "why should we believe you? Besides, streets are deserted, don't you think the cops would be everywhere."
"We're undercover," Ron continued, "now please turn around and go to whose-ever house is closest and remain indoors."
"What is this, Russia? Last I checked, we lived in a free country!" the guy said back, "you can't make me do anything, cop or no cop!"
Dean could see that some of the guy's friends were looking concerned, and some were looking just as skeptical, if not as angry as the guy who was yelling at Ron.
"Excuse me and my partner for a moment," Dean said, pulling Ron backwards a couple of steps and then whispering in his ear, "what have you guys done with the cops in this town?"
"Confunded them and confined them to their headquarters," Ron whispered back, "they only ever get in the way, and we can change their memories later."
"Awesome," Dean said, "try to reason with them again."
Ron furrowed his brow, but turned and once again tried to order the men back to their houses. The main guy was getting more confrontational. Dean wondered if maybe some people had different reactions to Dementors than crushing depression as he turned quickly and sprinted back to Impala. He glanced towards the end of the street to see the Dementors had moved closer...god, no wonder Sammy had been so freaked when Dean came to, if that's what he saw. Those things sent chills down his spine, and not metaphorically. Dean concentrated on his ring, and thought about all the fun that he was about to have.
"Listen, you fascist foreign pig!" the guy was yelling, as Dean returned to Ron's side, "you and your buddy want to try to stop us, go right ahead!"
Dean cocked the shotgun with one hand and steadied his aim.
"How about you listen," Dean said coldly, "My friend here was telling the truth, there IS a convict loose in this town. He just didn't say who it was. Now, he doesn't like it when I kill people, so we made this agreement that if I see someone I want to toast, I have to give them five minutes to get out of my sight before I act. Seems to me, you've been yelling at my poor friend here for four of those minutes..."
Dean rolled his eyes as the men all fled.
"I'll be driving around and if I see you outside again....!" Dean yelled after them.
"Bloody hell, you're mental!" Ron exclaimed once the men were out of sight.
"Whatever works," Dean said with a shrug, "nice try with the convict line, though."
"It works in Britain," Ron said softly.
"Huh, well, welcome to America" Dean replied, "now come on, I'm really too close to those ugly motherfuckers."
Dean threw the shotgun into the backseat and slid into the drivers seat. He really was too close to those things. It was so damn cold, he wondered why he couldn't see his breath...and god, why wouldn't the screaming stop, if they would just stop screaming...
"...Dean! Dean!" Dean's vision refocused to find himself staring blankly out the front window...the Dementors were nearly on top of them, how was he conscious? Why did he have a small silvery-blue dog in his lap?
"Shit...I..." Dean said, throwing the car into reverse and screeching the tires as he tore backwards away from the Dementors.
"Good good," Ron was saying, "drive faster. You're doing well, just stay with me, for Merlin's sake...I should have learned to drive. Hermione keeps telling me to..."
"You drove your last car into a tree after running out of gas in mid-air," Dean replied, backing onto a cross street so that he could turn around, "like I would ever let you behind the wheel of my baby."
Ron laughed. The Dementors were a little bit further away now, but it was as though they had caught the scent. They were no longer taking their time floating down the street, they were making a bee-line for the Impala.
"You think they'll follow us straight to the centre of town?" Dean asked Ron.
"Well, there's one way to find out." Ron replied. Dean turned the car and headed back towards the park.
"Thanks for, umm...the dog," Dean said, gesturing to the small dog now wedged between Dean's lap and the drivers-side door. It's face earnestly looking up at him with cute, wide, dog-eyes.
"As much for me as it was for you," Ron replied with a shrug.
"Yeah, then why's it on my lap," Dean asked. This was him admitting that he needed the help, and they both knew it, but he didn't care.
"My aim's always been a bit lousy," Ron smiled.
"Sure," Dean said, then slammed on the breaks as Harry, Sam, and a silvery-blue deer ran out of a side-street in front of him.
Ron's Patronus scrambled back over his lap and onto Ron's as Dean tore open his door. He was about to yell at Sam for not looking before crossing the road, when he noticed the stunned expressions on Sam and Harry's faces as they looked passed him behind the Impala. Harry's deer blinked out of existance.
"Holy shit!" Sam said.
Dean turned and saw a cloud of rain, snow, and black robed skeletons rolling down the street towards him.
"Well don't just stand there, get in the damn car!" Dean yelled and both Harry and Sam snapped out of their shock and scrambled for the backseat, stumbling over each other since they were both still tied together at the wrist.
"Recast! Recast! Recast!" Ron started yelling at Harry as soon as the doors were closed and Dean was tearing down the road with his eyes anxiously darting to the rear-view mirror.
"There's not room, Ron!" Harry said, "you'll have to keep yours up. Come on..."
Dean looked at the dog beside him on the seat, and realized that he could see through it a little. Oh shit...Dean wasn't warm now, and if he blacked out again while driving this fast...
"Sam, Dean, the ring and bracelet!" Harry ordered, "think about when Sam won that division trophy! Remember the prank war in Texas! Ron - Rose and Hugo! Your wedding!"
Dean thought about everything he could, but he had to drive, so mostly he just thought about how much he loved his car, and how he didn't want it to be smashed again, because it was such a beautiful car, and he had used all Bobby's spare Chevy parts already.
He could hear Harry whispering to Ron over the backseat, snippets of words - "flowers", "beautiful," "loves you", "children" and he realized with a glance at Ron's dog, that Harry was talking him through it all. Reminding him of everything wonderful in his life.
Finally they pulled up the park, and Dean came to screeching halt. Phil only glanced at them out of the corner of his eye briefly, before returning all his attention to the mirror he held, continuing to give orders to the teams.
"Phil!" Harry yelled dragging Sam behind him, as they all left the safety of the car and ran up to the older man.
"What is it, Harry?" Phil said, "The north and west teams have lost sight of the..."
Dean watched as Phil finally looked over at them - over at them and then behind them.
"Fuck. me." Phil said, eyes-wide.
"I told you!" Harry said, "I told you they enjoy the pain! They always go after the worst!"
Phil turned back to his mirror.
"Deacon, Rodney!" Phil said, "I've found your Dementors, report to the park at once! Allison, Ahmed, step it up! We need the rest of them!"
Dean turned to watch the black cloud roll closer.
"Sam," Dean said, "let's get everything out of the trunk, something has to hurt these sons of bitches!"
As Dean turned to run back to the car, he heard Phil yelling into his mirror.
"Containment! We fucking need containment!"