Blood of the Father: Part 2 (Harry Potter/Supernatural)
Title: Blood of the Father
Author: Koinaka
Rating: PG13
Pairing(s)/Character(s) Harry, John, Bobby, Dean, Sam, Ron, Hermione, mentions of canon pairings, past Harry/Ginny, future pairing not decided
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU, drama, supernatural, thriller
Spoilers: up to Season 3 for Supernatural with all mentions of Azazel and his endgame fair game.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Sam's generation of psychic kids wasn't the first. When odd things begin happening after Harry Potter's twenty-third birthday, he goes to America looking for answers.
Warning(s):
Word Count: Around 1700 words for this part.
Previous Parts: 1
Once again, I am simply reposting this because when I originally wrote it, I only posted it on Fanfiction.net
Blood of the Father
By Koinaka
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes:
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!
MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47
Chapter One
The Search For Answers Begins
"So, you really think that you can control the weather?" Ron asked him dubiously.
Nearly a month had passed since both the row between the three friends and the destruction of the row of flats across the courtyard from him, but this was the first time Harry had talked to either of his friends. Angry though he might have been at them before, when he found Ron on the stoop of his flat wearing a sheepish expression, Harry accepted his apology at once. They'd been friends far too long to let one row, even as one as big as that, come between them.
"It's not just the weather," Harry admitted at last. He chewed on his lower lip while letting his words sink in. "I've also been having headaches and these awful dreams...and I think it's all connected."
Ron paled dramatically. His eyes flitted to the faded scar on Harry's forehead. "You don't think it's... you know..." Ron lowered his voice as if he might be overheard, "him... do you?"
Harry furrowed his brow. "Who? Voldemort?"
At Ron's nod, Harry continued. "No, I don't think so. I mean, we took care of all the horcruxes, remember? There's no way for him to come back. Plus, it's not my scar that's bothering me. And the dreams aren't about Voldemort. They are about this yellow-eyed man. Only I don't really think he's a man."
Ron gave a shaky little laugh. "Well, that's alright then. That it's not him," he explained at Harry's incredulous look. "And you're sure these aren't just dreams?"
Harry shook his head. "No way are these just dreams. It's like... well, it's almost like this man is actually visiting me in my dreams, but that's not possible, is it?"
Now it was Ron's brow who furrowed in confusion. "I don't think so, mate. Even with magic, there are just some things that are impossible. And visiting other people's dreams are one of them. Invading someone's mind is one thing, but dreams... that's your subconscious, yeah? Next to your magical core, it's one of the most sacred places for a wizard. It would take the darkest of magics to do something like that. Black Magic." Ron shuddered. "If it was even possible at all."
"But Voldemort used to invade my dreams all the time!" Harry protested. "So it must be possible."
"Yeah, he did," Ron agreed, "but you were carryin' around a bit of his soul, weren't you, so it's not like you two were exactly strangers."
"Wait a tick. What's Black Magic? Isn't that the same as Dark Magic?" Harry asked.
Ron shuddered once more and cast a furtive look around the room. "No, it's not," he said thickly. "Blimey, mate, I forget that you weren't raised in the magical world. Black Magic is like... well, it's sort of like The Tales of Beetle the Bard. Just stories, legends, you know. Only... well, Black Magic is more like a horror story than anything else. Bill tried to tell us about it once. Mum nearly had a fit when she found out. There's nothing worse than Black Magic. Nothing. It's like the Unforgivables, but worse... because if you ever use Black Magic, you're damned."
"Damned? Like in the biblical sense of the word?"
Ron gave him a look. "Is there any other sense?"
Harry shrugged. "I just didn't think that wizards believed in the Bible. Magic sort of goes directly against the teachings of the Bible, doesn't it?"
Ron scoffed. "You're forgetting one thing, mate. Muggles only know the version we want them to know. Otherwise, we wouldn't be much of a hidden world. Trust me, there's nothing fake about the Bible."
"Okay, so the Bible's real, but that still doesn't explain what Black Magic is," Harry pointed out impatiently.
Ron sighed and ran a pale hand through his hair. "I don't know much," he said after a minute. "No one does. Not even a slimy dark wizard like Malfoy would admit to knowing about Black Magic. But... there are stories, yeah? About the practitioners of Black Magic. No one knows what Black Magic is, exactly, but back when the world was newer, there were some wizards who discovered its power. They became these twisted, evil creatures that feasted on the souls of innocents..." His voice faltered.
Harry's breath hitched, and he could feel his heart begin to race. "They become what?" he asked.
"Demons, they became demons."
A week later, and Harry was no closer to answers then he had been before. If anything, he was more confused than ever. Following his conversation with Ron, he had been searching for anything he could get his hands on that might tell him more about demons, but he had been largely unsuccessful. Ron hadn't been kidding when he talked about the stigma associated with Black Magic and demons. Harry had even gone to Knockturn Alley in his search for answers, but not only had he not found anything, he had been basically kicked out of this dank, dark little second-hand bookshop by the filthy shopkeeper.
"I don't know nothing 'bout any... demons," the man had whispered so softly Harry had had to strain to hear him. "Now leave - your lot's not welcome here."
The man was still muttering about Black Magic when Harry left the shop.
Desperate for answers, Harry went to the one person he thought might have answers for him: Xenophilius Lovegood. If Ron said that Black Magic was just a legend, maybe Mr. Lovegood would know about it. He'd known about the Deathly Hallows, hadn't he? It was worth a shot.
He decided to do it that Sunday before dinner at the Burrow. He was filled with apprehension as he Apparated to the Apparition point in Ottery St. Catchpole. The last time he'd gone to Mr. Lovegood for answers, the man had betrayed him to Death Eaters. He tried to remind himself that this was different. There was no war looming on the horizon now, but he couldn't help the anxiety that leaked to the surface. Just as what was now becoming usual, the weather reflected his mood. Dark clouds filled the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance as he made he way up the pathway to the Lovegood's oddly shaped house.
It was Luna who answered the door when he knocked.
"Oh!" She exclaimed in surprise, her stormy eyes widening in surprise, "Hullo Harry."
"Luna, hey. How've you been?"
"Just lovely. Would you like to come in? Father and I were just about to have tea, but you are welcome to join us. Friends often visit one another at tea time."
Guilt flashed through Harry at that. He'd come to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole every week without fail and never once had he visited Luna. He was a terrible friend. "Sure, Luna, thanks."
The inside of Luna's house was just as Harry remembered from his previous visit - even Mr. Lovegood was exactly as he remembered with his eccentric appearance and the towers of books stacked on every available surface.
Upon seeing Harry with Luna, Mr. Lovegood froze. "Ah, Mr. Potter... to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"
Harry gave the man what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me bend your ear, after tea of course. I'm doing some... research, and I had hoped you might be able to help me. Like you did about the Deathly Hallows."
Mr. Lovegood flushed hotly. "Of course, of course. Always had a bit of a soft spot for inquiring minds."
Tea was a tense affair. Mr. Lovegood hadn't said a word since the tea had been poured. He sat motionless with a vacant expression on his face as Harry and Luna caught up with one another. When tea was over, Luna flitted from the house in order to meet with Rolf, the man she was currently dating.
"So..." Harry said when she was gone. "Look, no hard feelings about before, alright? You did what you had to do."
Mr. Lovegood sucked in a harsh breath but visibly relaxed. "Now, then, you say you're in need of information?"
Harry hesitated. "Yeah. I was wondering what you could tell me about Black Magic."
For a long time, Mr. Lovegood said nothing. When he spoke again, his voice was tremulous. "Black Magic? What makes you think that I would know anything about that?"
Inwardly, Harry kicked himself. "Look, Mr. Lovegood, I'm not saying that you use it or anything!" He took a deep breath to calm himself as a loud clap of thunder sounded. "It's just... you know all sorts of odd things... things that other people think are just fictional, don't you? Like the Hallows."
Mr. Lovegood looked away from the storm that was now raging outside. "Odd weather lately," he murmured. He motioned for Harry to follow him up the winding staircase to a room that was filled to the brim with books and rolls of parchment. He began shifting papers around on a completely covered desk. "Ah ha!" he said softly when he found what it was he was searching for.
"Sometimes, Mr. Potter, truth is hidden in the funniest of places. Take Muggles, for example. Not all Muggles have a tendency to ignore the supernatural. There are some who seek to search out evil, to hunt it down...Wizards have become far too complacent, far too comfortable. It is our nature to ignore the... shall we say... more unsavory aspects of the world by trying to place it within the realm of mythology. Hiding the truth, however, does not negate it," he said as he handed Harry a scrap of parchment. "As they say, eventually, the truth will out."
Harry frowned as he read it. "The truth is hidden in Missouri. What does that even mean?"
There was a fond smile on Mr. Lovegood's face. "The road to enlightenment has many pathways, but they all pass through Missouri."
Author: Koinaka
Rating: PG13
Pairing(s)/Character(s) Harry, John, Bobby, Dean, Sam, Ron, Hermione, mentions of canon pairings, past Harry/Ginny, future pairing not decided
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU, drama, supernatural, thriller
Spoilers: up to Season 3 for Supernatural with all mentions of Azazel and his endgame fair game.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Sam's generation of psychic kids wasn't the first. When odd things begin happening after Harry Potter's twenty-third birthday, he goes to America looking for answers.
Warning(s):
Word Count: Around 1700 words for this part.
Previous Parts: 1
Once again, I am simply reposting this because when I originally wrote it, I only posted it on Fanfiction.net
Blood of the Father
By Koinaka
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes:
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!
MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47
Chapter One
The Search For Answers Begins
"So, you really think that you can control the weather?" Ron asked him dubiously.
Nearly a month had passed since both the row between the three friends and the destruction of the row of flats across the courtyard from him, but this was the first time Harry had talked to either of his friends. Angry though he might have been at them before, when he found Ron on the stoop of his flat wearing a sheepish expression, Harry accepted his apology at once. They'd been friends far too long to let one row, even as one as big as that, come between them.
"It's not just the weather," Harry admitted at last. He chewed on his lower lip while letting his words sink in. "I've also been having headaches and these awful dreams...and I think it's all connected."
Ron paled dramatically. His eyes flitted to the faded scar on Harry's forehead. "You don't think it's... you know..." Ron lowered his voice as if he might be overheard, "him... do you?"
Harry furrowed his brow. "Who? Voldemort?"
At Ron's nod, Harry continued. "No, I don't think so. I mean, we took care of all the horcruxes, remember? There's no way for him to come back. Plus, it's not my scar that's bothering me. And the dreams aren't about Voldemort. They are about this yellow-eyed man. Only I don't really think he's a man."
Ron gave a shaky little laugh. "Well, that's alright then. That it's not him," he explained at Harry's incredulous look. "And you're sure these aren't just dreams?"
Harry shook his head. "No way are these just dreams. It's like... well, it's almost like this man is actually visiting me in my dreams, but that's not possible, is it?"
Now it was Ron's brow who furrowed in confusion. "I don't think so, mate. Even with magic, there are just some things that are impossible. And visiting other people's dreams are one of them. Invading someone's mind is one thing, but dreams... that's your subconscious, yeah? Next to your magical core, it's one of the most sacred places for a wizard. It would take the darkest of magics to do something like that. Black Magic." Ron shuddered. "If it was even possible at all."
"But Voldemort used to invade my dreams all the time!" Harry protested. "So it must be possible."
"Yeah, he did," Ron agreed, "but you were carryin' around a bit of his soul, weren't you, so it's not like you two were exactly strangers."
"Wait a tick. What's Black Magic? Isn't that the same as Dark Magic?" Harry asked.
Ron shuddered once more and cast a furtive look around the room. "No, it's not," he said thickly. "Blimey, mate, I forget that you weren't raised in the magical world. Black Magic is like... well, it's sort of like The Tales of Beetle the Bard. Just stories, legends, you know. Only... well, Black Magic is more like a horror story than anything else. Bill tried to tell us about it once. Mum nearly had a fit when she found out. There's nothing worse than Black Magic. Nothing. It's like the Unforgivables, but worse... because if you ever use Black Magic, you're damned."
"Damned? Like in the biblical sense of the word?"
Ron gave him a look. "Is there any other sense?"
Harry shrugged. "I just didn't think that wizards believed in the Bible. Magic sort of goes directly against the teachings of the Bible, doesn't it?"
Ron scoffed. "You're forgetting one thing, mate. Muggles only know the version we want them to know. Otherwise, we wouldn't be much of a hidden world. Trust me, there's nothing fake about the Bible."
"Okay, so the Bible's real, but that still doesn't explain what Black Magic is," Harry pointed out impatiently.
Ron sighed and ran a pale hand through his hair. "I don't know much," he said after a minute. "No one does. Not even a slimy dark wizard like Malfoy would admit to knowing about Black Magic. But... there are stories, yeah? About the practitioners of Black Magic. No one knows what Black Magic is, exactly, but back when the world was newer, there were some wizards who discovered its power. They became these twisted, evil creatures that feasted on the souls of innocents..." His voice faltered.
Harry's breath hitched, and he could feel his heart begin to race. "They become what?" he asked.
"Demons, they became demons."
A week later, and Harry was no closer to answers then he had been before. If anything, he was more confused than ever. Following his conversation with Ron, he had been searching for anything he could get his hands on that might tell him more about demons, but he had been largely unsuccessful. Ron hadn't been kidding when he talked about the stigma associated with Black Magic and demons. Harry had even gone to Knockturn Alley in his search for answers, but not only had he not found anything, he had been basically kicked out of this dank, dark little second-hand bookshop by the filthy shopkeeper.
"I don't know nothing 'bout any... demons," the man had whispered so softly Harry had had to strain to hear him. "Now leave - your lot's not welcome here."
The man was still muttering about Black Magic when Harry left the shop.
Desperate for answers, Harry went to the one person he thought might have answers for him: Xenophilius Lovegood. If Ron said that Black Magic was just a legend, maybe Mr. Lovegood would know about it. He'd known about the Deathly Hallows, hadn't he? It was worth a shot.
He decided to do it that Sunday before dinner at the Burrow. He was filled with apprehension as he Apparated to the Apparition point in Ottery St. Catchpole. The last time he'd gone to Mr. Lovegood for answers, the man had betrayed him to Death Eaters. He tried to remind himself that this was different. There was no war looming on the horizon now, but he couldn't help the anxiety that leaked to the surface. Just as what was now becoming usual, the weather reflected his mood. Dark clouds filled the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance as he made he way up the pathway to the Lovegood's oddly shaped house.
It was Luna who answered the door when he knocked.
"Oh!" She exclaimed in surprise, her stormy eyes widening in surprise, "Hullo Harry."
"Luna, hey. How've you been?"
"Just lovely. Would you like to come in? Father and I were just about to have tea, but you are welcome to join us. Friends often visit one another at tea time."
Guilt flashed through Harry at that. He'd come to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole every week without fail and never once had he visited Luna. He was a terrible friend. "Sure, Luna, thanks."
The inside of Luna's house was just as Harry remembered from his previous visit - even Mr. Lovegood was exactly as he remembered with his eccentric appearance and the towers of books stacked on every available surface.
Upon seeing Harry with Luna, Mr. Lovegood froze. "Ah, Mr. Potter... to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"
Harry gave the man what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me bend your ear, after tea of course. I'm doing some... research, and I had hoped you might be able to help me. Like you did about the Deathly Hallows."
Mr. Lovegood flushed hotly. "Of course, of course. Always had a bit of a soft spot for inquiring minds."
Tea was a tense affair. Mr. Lovegood hadn't said a word since the tea had been poured. He sat motionless with a vacant expression on his face as Harry and Luna caught up with one another. When tea was over, Luna flitted from the house in order to meet with Rolf, the man she was currently dating.
"So..." Harry said when she was gone. "Look, no hard feelings about before, alright? You did what you had to do."
Mr. Lovegood sucked in a harsh breath but visibly relaxed. "Now, then, you say you're in need of information?"
Harry hesitated. "Yeah. I was wondering what you could tell me about Black Magic."
For a long time, Mr. Lovegood said nothing. When he spoke again, his voice was tremulous. "Black Magic? What makes you think that I would know anything about that?"
Inwardly, Harry kicked himself. "Look, Mr. Lovegood, I'm not saying that you use it or anything!" He took a deep breath to calm himself as a loud clap of thunder sounded. "It's just... you know all sorts of odd things... things that other people think are just fictional, don't you? Like the Hallows."
Mr. Lovegood looked away from the storm that was now raging outside. "Odd weather lately," he murmured. He motioned for Harry to follow him up the winding staircase to a room that was filled to the brim with books and rolls of parchment. He began shifting papers around on a completely covered desk. "Ah ha!" he said softly when he found what it was he was searching for.
"Sometimes, Mr. Potter, truth is hidden in the funniest of places. Take Muggles, for example. Not all Muggles have a tendency to ignore the supernatural. There are some who seek to search out evil, to hunt it down...Wizards have become far too complacent, far too comfortable. It is our nature to ignore the... shall we say... more unsavory aspects of the world by trying to place it within the realm of mythology. Hiding the truth, however, does not negate it," he said as he handed Harry a scrap of parchment. "As they say, eventually, the truth will out."
Harry frowned as he read it. "The truth is hidden in Missouri. What does that even mean?"
There was a fond smile on Mr. Lovegood's face. "The road to enlightenment has many pathways, but they all pass through Missouri."