One Mistake Changes Everything 5/?
Title: One Mistake Changes Everything
Fandoms: Harry Potter/Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rebecca Wood, Orville Wood, Oliver Wood. John/Mary, Orville/Rebecca
Rating: T
Warning/Spoilers: None really unless you haven't heard of either fandom in which case.....
Disclaimer: I do not own either fandom.... aaahhhh shucks.
Summery: One life mistake that John makes will change the lives of his children and the Winchester's will get a new view on things.
A/N: I probably totaly butchered typing a scottish accent for Orville, but if anyone wants to help in the future, please by all means.
May 3rd 1983
Mary sat in a hospital bed once again holding the newest addition to the Winchester family. It was still early in the morning and John said he was going to skip work today and bring Dean to visit his new brother. She smiled softly down at the small baby cradled in her arms. “You’re such a beautiful baby Sam. No doubt you’ll end up as a handsome young man,” murmured Mary softly to Sam.
“MOMMY!” shouted Dean as he ran into the hospital room, John followed closely behind.
“Shh, Dean, he’s sleeping,” hushed Mary.
“Is this him?” asked Dean coming up to the bed standing on toes trying to get a look at Sam.
John picked Dean up and rested him on his hip so he could see Sam. “Em hm,” replied Mary. “Dean this is your new brother Sam.”
“He looks funny an' wrinkly,” proclaimed Dean.
“That’s because he’s a baby, you looked the same way when you were first born,” said Mary.
“No I didn’,” protested Dean.
“Sure you did kiddo,” said John, shifting on his feet and then placing Dean on the hospital bed along side his mother.
Dean tried to climb into his mom’s lap and pull at the blankets that surrounded Sam. “Dean, careful Sweetie.”
She then glanced back to her husband who still dancing on his feet as if he had ants in his pants. She didn’t have to ask to know what that was about. “John, no,” she said.
“I have to Marry.”
“You said you got today off.”
“I know I did, but they called and said they needed me to come in. We need the money we have two boys now.”
“Don’t use that excuse with me John Winchester,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Here’s some clothes you can change into, I’ll go start arranging yours and Sam’s release. I can take you home then I got to go in to work.”
Mary would have told John to forget that she’d catch a cab home, but she had Dean and Sam with her. John left the room leaving her with the two boys. “It’s okay mommy, I’m here,” said Dean.
Mary gave her son a small smile. “Thank you honey,” she replied brushing her hand through his hair.
She knew another fight was coming soon and she knew it would be hard on Dean.
August 1983
Rebecca stood in the small kitchen of her home making lunch for herself and Oliver, Orville was at work. In the entirety of the wizarding world things were looking up with You-Know-Who gone, but in the Wood house things were a bit different. Orville always worked late and only came home long after Oliver was in bed and asleep. Rebecca was worried, she knew her son was picking up on the neglect he got from his father and was now trying to impress him any way the seven year old boy could find.
Oliver had indeed been a late bloomer in showing any signs of magic; not showing any until he was five years old. Every year that passed before that Orville got more and more distant then before, at one even questioned Rebecca if Oliver was his. Now it didn’t seem to matter even if Oliver was a wizard, Orville never showed even an ounce of affection.
When Oliver had learned that his fathers favorite pass time was Quidditch and had been on his schools house team, Oliver had insisted that he get a broom so he could get really good and play for his house too.
Rebecca sighed she could already foresee that Oliver would never stop trying to impress his father and get his attention. “Mum, Mum,” shouted Oliver running up to her bringing her out of her thoughts.
In his hands he carried a children’s broom. She turned to look down at him. “Yes Sweetie?”
“I wantta ride on my broom, come an' watch me.”
“I can’t right now Oliver I’m busy cooking lunch. You do want lunch don’t you?” she asked.
“Yes Mummy, bu’ I wantta get good so I can show Da,” replied Oliver.
“Just go play, “I’ll call you when lunch is ready,” she said as he turned and ran out of the kitchen to go outside. “And keep your feet on the ground!”
Rebecca sighed and turned her attention back to making lunch. She threw in a silent prayer that Oliver would get over this Quidditch faze, but doubted that would ever happen until Orville showed at least some interest.
She was broken from her thoughts when a blood curling scream split the air. She dropped everything and ran outside. She saw her son curled up at the base of a tree screaming and sobbing, hugging his left arm to his chest.
Rebecca ran over to him kneeling down. “Let me see your arm Sweetie,” she said.
“It… h…h…urts,” he sobbed.
“I know, I know let me see though,” she soothed.
She was no expert but could already tell that his arm more then likely broken. They would need to go to St. Mungo’s, apparition was out of the question it may only hurt Oliver more, so they would need to go by Floo. She picked him up gently his arm still tucked to his chest and went inside and set him on the kitchen table. She quickly grabbed the closest piece of paper and quickly jotted down a note and folded it up writing Orville’s name on it. She gave a few clicks and an owl flew into the kitchen. She carefully tied it to the owl. “Take this to Orville would you Widget,” she murmured softly. The owl flew off.
Rebecca turned back to the table where Oliver sat still sniffling away. “Mummy, it hurts,” he sobbed again.
“I know it hurts and we’re going to take care of it come on,” she said lifting him off the table and making her way to the fireplace.
~*****~ HP:SPN~*****~
Rebecca stood next to her son as he sat on the exam table; they were waiting for the Healer to come back with results. The burst open and Orville came thundering in. “I can’t believe you pulled me away from work for this,” he yelled.
“You didn’t have to come,” she replied calmly. “I was just letting you know.”
“Da,” said an excited Oliver.
Orville ignored the child “What happened?” he asked his wife.
“Oliver fell out of a tree in our yard that he was trying to climb,” she explained.
“Why weren’t ya watchin’ him?”
Rebecca glared at Orville. “I don’ know maybe I was little bit busy cooking up some lunch. Maybe if you were home more then you could help out a bit and you coulda watched him instead.”
“Don’t be ridiculous I have to bring money home.”
“Please stop,” cried Oliver.
“Shhh, I’m sorry Sweetie,” cooed Rebecca as she went over to Oliver and ran her fingers threw his mop of hair.
The Healer walked in closing the door behind himself. “Well it’s a small break nothing we can’t fix up with a little bone mending potion.”
“So I came for nothing,” said Orville.
The healer glanced between both parents. “I’d still like him to stay for about an hour while the potion is working. We really don’t know how it will effect your son since he was a late bloomer,” said the Healer.
“Alright, thank you,” said Rebecca.
The Healer gave a small smile and left the room Orville quickly followed him out. “Can I ask ya something?” Orville asked the Healer
“Sure Mr. Wood, what can I do for you?”
“Is there a way to test blood type?”
“Blood type? How do you mean?”
“I mean is there a way ta see if someone’s a pure-blood or a half-blood?”
“Well there is something new, but we aren’t quit sure if it’s a hundred precinct accurate it’s really still in its trial phases. Why are you asking, you shouldn’t have any concern, the medical file states that you and your wife are both Pure-Bloods and your son obviously has shown signs of magic so he should be one too.”
“We’ve never had a late bloomer in the Wood family especially one this late,” said Orville.
The Healer could take a hint. This man didn’t think that boy was his son. “Well we could always back it up with a lineage spell.”
“Please do it.”
The Healer nodded and left to get what he needed.
~*****~HP:SPN~*****~
An hour later Oliver had taken the potion and hadn’t been showing any signs of ill effects. The Healer had dabbed and taken care of the small cuts and left while the potion did its magic. Orville stood around impatiently, while Rebecca sat by her son’s side.
The Healer came back. “Well Oliver, everything looks good as new, just don’t be falling out of trees anytime soon you hear,” said the Healer good naturedly.
Oliver smiled at him. “Thanks for takin’ care of me,” said Oliver and turned to Orville. “Thanks for comin’ Da.”
Orville forced a smile to his face and nodded once. “Thank you, we’re truly grateful,” said Rebecca.
She herded Oliver out of the room and Orville and the Healer followed. “Did you get any results?” asked Orville turning on the Healer as Rebecca and Oliver disappeared down the hall.
“I did.”
“And…”
“And you will not like the results. The blood test came back to show he is indeed only a half-blood, a lineage spell may back it if there is proof that his real father isn’t a pure-blood or half-blood.”
“So I’m not his real dad, some other is?”
“That is what the lineage spell shows. I’m sorry.”
“No ya’ve helped a lot. I’ve been wonderin’ for some time now. I have the truth, so thank ya,” said Orville and left the Healer standing front the exam room door.
November 3rd 1983
John couldn’t believe it, his wife was dead. The fact that they had been fighting recently made everything hurt worse. He stood in front of his house that didn’t actually look so bad from the outside while his two sons were with a sitter.
He didn’t realize the arson inspector had come out and begun talking to him. “Sir?”
John was startled out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his forearm. “Sorry, what was that?” he asked.
“It was an accident, faulty wiring. It probably short circuited and caught fire,” said the head of the arson team.
John watched as the inspectors filed out carrying their tools and gadgets. He panicked. “No, no, it wasn’t an accident you get your men back in there and you look again,” he yelled.
His yelling attracted the police officers watching the sight and came over to calm the situation. “Mr. Winchester, Mr. Winchester take a deep breath and calm down,” said the officer in charge.
“Calm down, calm down, you want me to calm down when my wife is dead and this so called inspector is calling it an accident. It was no accident. My wife, Mary was pinned to the ceiling.”
“Mr. Winchester, sometimes with a tragedy such as yours occurs our minds play tricks on us. I’m sure it was a figment of your imagination,” said the officer. “Why don’t you go back to where you’re staying for now. Go back to your boys.”
John was angry. “Fine, but I know what I saw and it wasn’t some figment of my imagination that my brain is somehow creating to cope with my grief, so don’t you start laying that crap on me.”
John left then there to go about their inspection that would never give him the answers he wanted. To them is was just another accidental house fire, but deep down John knew something wasn’t right with Mary’s death. It wasn’t natural to die pinned to the ceiling bleeding from the stomach. He needed to find someone who could explain what might have happened.
He stopped at the sitters and picked up his two sons, four year old Dean and six month old Sam. A wave of despair hit John; Sam would never really know his mother. He would only ever hear about her in stories, see her in pictures and Dean was four and had fond memories of his mother, a mother he no longer had to grow up and not completely understand why she was dead.
Those thoughts only made John want to find out what happened more, so he took his sons back to the motel they were temporarily staying at while the house was inspected, cleaned out, and repaired.
Dean sat quietly in the back seat, secured in his booster seat. Sam gurgling in the car seat next to him. John looked in the rearview mirror to see Dean with his head leaned up against the side of the window. “Dean buddy, you alright Little Man?” he asked.
Dean didn’t say anything and John sighed in his own grief he had forgotten about how Dean would handle it. “Come on Buddy, tell me what’s going on,” persisted John.
Dean turned a tear streaked face to John. “Where were the angels daddy?” Mommy says they watch over me, why not they watch over her?”
John’s heart wrenched in his chest at his boy’s question. “Dean,” he paused, he didn’t want to squash the boy’s hopes and faith, but his calmness dissipated when Dean asked another question.
“Did the angels take Mommy safely to heaven?”
“No Dean they didn’t because there’s no such thing as angels, if there were your mother would still be here.”
Tears now flooded Dean’s eyes. “Thh…hen… then where’s mommy? There’s still heaven right?”
“Yeah, sure I guess so Dean,” replied John. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
Dean didn’t say anything back, just turned his head back to look out the window. John sighed; he’d really messed up there. He tried to think of someone he could go to. The police obviously wouldn’t because they were going to side with the arson inspectors and file it as an accident.
He never put much belief in psychics, thought they were frauds taking money from poor schmucks. Now though that was looking like a good option. They seemed liked they were the only people that would be able to tell him anything. Tonight he would spend some time with a phone book looking for some reputable.