Fic: Damned Demented Demons 2/32 SPN/HP
Title: Damned Demented Demons 2/32
Author: ME!
Fandoms: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Rating: PG (for swearing)
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, Spoilers up to 4x10 for Supernatural.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke, Harry Potter belongs to Rowling.
A/N: I started writing this just for fun and something to do. When it got up to about 6 chapters and I was nowhere near done, I figured I might as well start posting it. I don't know how long it'll end up being (it's 6 chapters now), nor when I will complete it, nor exactly what will happen in later chapters, but I might as well take some other people on this amusing journey with me.
Summary: In which Harry has the stupidest last words ever...
Chapter 1
Harry had to admit that it took a lot of effort not to flinch at Sam's hard glare once they were seated. Which was saying something, because Harry had rarely even flinched in front of Riddle - and the times he did, he could blame on being only a kid.
"...Those black things are called Dementors," Harry explained, watching as Sam picked up a notebook from a stack of three, and started taking jot form notes. Harry let it pass. They were Hunters, they deserved to know. "They are a magical creature. They usually only live in northern climates, specifically, Northern Europe. They aren't supposed to be this far south, or even on this continent."
"Why are they here then? What do they do?" Sam asked in a very business-like manner.
"Why they are here...I don't know. It's why I'm here. The last time they moved on this level they were being controlled by someone, well, commanded anyway, and since I was the one that defeated that person, they've called me over here as a sort of 'expert', if you will. Really though, I have no idea if they are being controlled or if they just came here of their own free will," Harry ran a hand through his hair, and decided he might as well be completely honest. Shod the Americans and their secrecy rules. "You have to understand, Sam. It takes a very dark wizard to command a Dementor, and I just don't think...maybe I just don't want to believe...that there's that kind of trouble out there."
"Wizard?" Sam raised an eyebrow, "Like a witch?"
"Yes," said Harry, "and no. It's complicated. As for what Dementors DO. You've already felt it, first-hand."
Sam's brow furrowed. "It was cold..." he said, "It felt like there was ice in my veins"
"Right," said Harry, "but that's mainly just a side-effect. You also felt miserable, didn't you? As though you would never be happy again?"
Harry watched as a look of confusion passed over Sam's face.
"Yes, but..." Sam started, "but I've felt that way for days now...so has Dean."
Harry tried not to let his surprise show on his face, as he felt his interest in the Winchesters spike even more.
"The Dementors have been within US borders for a week already. Some must have been close to you for the past couple of days," Harry watched as Sam mouth twisted into a frown. He knew that look too well. "You didn't know what they were, you wouldn't have known to look for anything."
Sam seemed to accept the excuse, and then raised his pen over the notebook again, "So they make people sad?"
"Yes, but that's not all," Harry said, glancing over at the still unconscious Dean. It only concerned Harry a little that most people would have woken up by now. "The Dementor can also suck out someone's soul - it's called a Dementor's Kiss, mainly because they have to get close enough to kiss you in order to do that. It's extremely rare for a Dementor to kiss someone though, normally they just feed from a distance. You see, Dementors feed off happiness. They don't have to touch you in order to do that, they just have to be close to you. The more sadness in your life, the stronger your reaction to the Dementors is. Basically, they feed off your happy memories, until all you are left with is your bad memories. Some people..."
Harry cut himself off as he caught sight of Sam. Sam's eyes were as wide as saucers, his pen dropped to the table forgotten, and suddenly he was running over to his brother on the bed.
"Shit! DEAN!" Sam yelled at his brother, and then started to lightly smack his cheeks. "Wake up, Dean! Please wake up!" Sam's voice was taking on an unnerving edge of desperation and panic. "You aren't there. You came back. Please...Dean wake-up!"
Harry shook himself out of his confused shock and ran over to the bed as well, pulling Sam's hands away from his brother's face.
"Sam! Calm down!" Sam pulled his hands away from Harry's, but ceased trying to wake his brother by force. Sam fell to his knees beside his brother's bed, and then looked up at Harry with eyes so full of worry that Harry's breath caught in his throat.
"You don't understand," Sam all but whispered. "He just got back...I...they just brought him back..."
"What do you mean, Sam?" Harry asked, "If I don't understand, then explain it to me."
Sam looked back at his brother, and at Harry, and then seemed to make a decision.
"He just got back from Hell," Sam said. "He was in Hell for four-months...four-months on Earth, but it was longer in..." Sam's breath hitched, and he turned back to Dean without completing the sentence.
Harry stared dumbfounded. "Hell? How did...How is that...oh Merlin...Hell?"
"He sold his soul for me..." Sam whispered, "They only just brought him back a couple months ago..."
Harry didn't need Hermione there to tell him that they didn't even have a measure for Hell in the article Susceptibility to Dementors According To Patient Life-Experiences, that St. Mungo's had published a few years back. This was bad.
"Sam," Harry said, and Sam turned back to him immediately. Harry realized he had slipped back into Auror-mood, but continued without stopping. "I can help your brother, but you are going to have to trust me completely. Can you do that?"
Harry watched as Sam's eyes bore into his own. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd have sworn that Sam was attempting some form of legimacy, but he didn't feel anyone rifling through his head, even though he didn't even attempt to counter. Sam simply stared at Harry for a solid few seconds, and then nodded. "I'll trust you."
"Good. Thank you," Harry replied, but he felt the weight of meaning behind Sam's words. Harry knew that if Dean didn't wake up, it would likely be the end of Harry.
Harry pulled out what looked like a flip-phone, but was actually a two way mirror.
"Phil," he said, and saw Phil's face swim into focus.
"Yessir?" Phil's voice came out crystal clear into the room. Harry suspected that Sam might just assume he was using the speaker phone setting, but knew that Sam would discover soon enough that Harry was a wizard, if he didn't suspect already. "I have a code M2-D. I need you to do a supply run immediately."
"Right away, Sir."
"And Phil?" Harry added, glancing at Sam.
"Yessir?"
"You have permission to apparate."
"Y...yessir," Phil gave Harry a concerned look through the mirror, just before Harry snapped the compact mirror shut and slid it back into his pocket.
Sam stood and looked at Harry. Harry had to admit, he much preferred when Sam had been kneeling. The younger man was far less intimidating when he wasn't so tall.
"What does M2-D, mean? Who are you?" Sam asked.
"M2-D means that a...person has been rendered unresponsive by a Dementor, but has not been kissed," Harry stated. "And as I told you, my name is Harry Potter...I'm a wizard, Sam."
Harry watched Sam's eyes widen in surprise, and he wondered which Sam would choose - to move towards the duffle bag on the floor that Harry suspected was full of weapons, or to continue to hover protectively over his brother. He decided that he couldn't take his chances on the answer.
"More specifically, I'm an Auror. That means that I'm a wizard who hunts down dark wizards and makes sure that they don't harm anyone and that they pay for any harm they have already caused. Do you understand? I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you or your brother."
Harry watched as Sam nodded.
"So...you're like a Hunter, only...?"
"A wizard," Harry finished with a smile, "that's one way to look at it. So, are you still going to trust me?"
Sam nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's.
"Good," Harry replied, just as Phil suddenly appeared just inside the door carrying a grocery bag and a white box. Sam tensed, but didn't move otherwise. Harry had to admit that he was quite impressed with how stoic the younger man was acting, when most would have been freaking out.
"Thanks, Phil," Harry said, and took the items out of Phil's hand. "Tell the boys to expand the protective perimeter to account for an unchartable susceptibility. All previous orders stay," Phil nodded gravely, glanced once more at Sam in either wonder or fear and then turned and disapparated.
Harry put the white box and the grocery bag on the table. He pulled a chocolate syrup bottle out of the grocery bag.
"Help yourself to that," he said to Sam, and gestured to the white box. Sam slowly left Dean's side and walked over to the table. Harry moved past him towards Dean. He heard Sam flip the box open.
"Cake?" Sam said, and Harry almost laughed at the tone. So rarely did anyone talk to him these days as though he were an idiot.
"I know it seems ridiculous," Harry replied glancing back at Sam, "but you did say you would trust me."
Sam shrugged, and began to serve himself some cake, finding the paper plates and plastic forks in the grocery bag. Harry had to admit that he was surprised Sam really did seem to trust him.
"You're going to force feed my brother chocolate syrup?" Sam asked warily.
"Yes, hopefully this will work. If I have to call in a Healer...well, let's just say, I don't want to do that," Harry pulled out his wand. Luckily, he knew just the spell that would work. He had used it on James when he had been sick as a baby and had refused to eat. Sam came over and sat on the other side of the bed with his piece of cake, and watched Harry.
Harry pulled out his wand, glancing at Sam quickly as he did so, but Sam only watched with open curiosity. The concern for Dean was still in his eyes, but Harry could tell that Sam didn't consider Harry a threat. Harry knew he should just be grateful and leave it alone, but his curiosity was growing.
Harry dripped chocolate syrup into the air above Dean, and then caught it with a muttered spell, leaving it to hover. He concentrated and lead the syrup through the air, he gently pulled Deans chin down until his lips parted, and then guided the syrup passed them. He muttered more incantations and placed his wand on Dean's throat, which swallowed in response.
Harry glanced up at Sam again, and began to repeat the procedure, this time, dividing his attention slightly. He could do these spells wordlessly after all.
"Sam?" Harry began, quietly, "Not that I want you to doubt your decision or anything, but can I ask...why are you trusting me?"
Sam gave him a bemused look.
"I mean, I'm thrilled, I really am. And you SHOULD trust me. I'm a nice guy and all...only want to help," Harry paused to make Dean swallow, and then realized that he had been rambling. "It's just...you and your brother, well you're Hunters! I somehow doubt you trust just anyone, especially people who are...different."
Harry was surprised when Sam ducked his head, as if embarrassed, and seemed to overly focus on getting another forkful of cake.
"You'll probably understand when he wakes up," Sam replied softly, not meeting Harry's eyes. Then Sam smiled, "plus, I'm sure you're aware that you have a scar on the back of your hand that says 'I must not tell lies'"
"Oh," Harry said, he had honestly forgotten about that.
"Is it working?" Sam changed the subject, nodding towards Dean.
Harry put a hand to Dean's cheek. "Yes, I think so. He seems a bit warmer, less pale. He should be awake though, I'll give him some more."
Harry repeated the process, while Sam stuffed cake in his mouth. This time, as soon as Harry made Dean swallow, Dean's eyes flew open. Harry immediately understood why Sam had trusted him. There, staring at him, were eyes that Harry had only ever seen in the mirror. Sam had green eyes, but there was a strange muddy quality to them, Dean's eyes, though, were pure green.
Of course, Harry only had a second to take it all in, before he found himself on the floor, his hand and wand pinned down, a knife at his throat, and those pure-green eyes boring into his menacingly. He heard a noise from Sam that Harry could only assume was the name Dean shouted around a mouthful of cake.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you?" Dean growled from on top of Harry.
"I brought cake," Harry replied without thinking, and then cursed himself for having perhaps the stupidest last words ever.
Chapter 3
Masterpost
Author: ME!
Fandoms: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Rating: PG (for swearing)
Warnings: Spoilers for all Harry Potter books, Spoilers up to 4x10 for Supernatural.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke, Harry Potter belongs to Rowling.
A/N: I started writing this just for fun and something to do. When it got up to about 6 chapters and I was nowhere near done, I figured I might as well start posting it. I don't know how long it'll end up being (it's 6 chapters now), nor when I will complete it, nor exactly what will happen in later chapters, but I might as well take some other people on this amusing journey with me.
Summary: In which Harry has the stupidest last words ever...
Chapter 1
Harry had to admit that it took a lot of effort not to flinch at Sam's hard glare once they were seated. Which was saying something, because Harry had rarely even flinched in front of Riddle - and the times he did, he could blame on being only a kid.
"...Those black things are called Dementors," Harry explained, watching as Sam picked up a notebook from a stack of three, and started taking jot form notes. Harry let it pass. They were Hunters, they deserved to know. "They are a magical creature. They usually only live in northern climates, specifically, Northern Europe. They aren't supposed to be this far south, or even on this continent."
"Why are they here then? What do they do?" Sam asked in a very business-like manner.
"Why they are here...I don't know. It's why I'm here. The last time they moved on this level they were being controlled by someone, well, commanded anyway, and since I was the one that defeated that person, they've called me over here as a sort of 'expert', if you will. Really though, I have no idea if they are being controlled or if they just came here of their own free will," Harry ran a hand through his hair, and decided he might as well be completely honest. Shod the Americans and their secrecy rules. "You have to understand, Sam. It takes a very dark wizard to command a Dementor, and I just don't think...maybe I just don't want to believe...that there's that kind of trouble out there."
"Wizard?" Sam raised an eyebrow, "Like a witch?"
"Yes," said Harry, "and no. It's complicated. As for what Dementors DO. You've already felt it, first-hand."
Sam's brow furrowed. "It was cold..." he said, "It felt like there was ice in my veins"
"Right," said Harry, "but that's mainly just a side-effect. You also felt miserable, didn't you? As though you would never be happy again?"
Harry watched as a look of confusion passed over Sam's face.
"Yes, but..." Sam started, "but I've felt that way for days now...so has Dean."
Harry tried not to let his surprise show on his face, as he felt his interest in the Winchesters spike even more.
"The Dementors have been within US borders for a week already. Some must have been close to you for the past couple of days," Harry watched as Sam mouth twisted into a frown. He knew that look too well. "You didn't know what they were, you wouldn't have known to look for anything."
Sam seemed to accept the excuse, and then raised his pen over the notebook again, "So they make people sad?"
"Yes, but that's not all," Harry said, glancing over at the still unconscious Dean. It only concerned Harry a little that most people would have woken up by now. "The Dementor can also suck out someone's soul - it's called a Dementor's Kiss, mainly because they have to get close enough to kiss you in order to do that. It's extremely rare for a Dementor to kiss someone though, normally they just feed from a distance. You see, Dementors feed off happiness. They don't have to touch you in order to do that, they just have to be close to you. The more sadness in your life, the stronger your reaction to the Dementors is. Basically, they feed off your happy memories, until all you are left with is your bad memories. Some people..."
Harry cut himself off as he caught sight of Sam. Sam's eyes were as wide as saucers, his pen dropped to the table forgotten, and suddenly he was running over to his brother on the bed.
"Shit! DEAN!" Sam yelled at his brother, and then started to lightly smack his cheeks. "Wake up, Dean! Please wake up!" Sam's voice was taking on an unnerving edge of desperation and panic. "You aren't there. You came back. Please...Dean wake-up!"
Harry shook himself out of his confused shock and ran over to the bed as well, pulling Sam's hands away from his brother's face.
"Sam! Calm down!" Sam pulled his hands away from Harry's, but ceased trying to wake his brother by force. Sam fell to his knees beside his brother's bed, and then looked up at Harry with eyes so full of worry that Harry's breath caught in his throat.
"You don't understand," Sam all but whispered. "He just got back...I...they just brought him back..."
"What do you mean, Sam?" Harry asked, "If I don't understand, then explain it to me."
Sam looked back at his brother, and at Harry, and then seemed to make a decision.
"He just got back from Hell," Sam said. "He was in Hell for four-months...four-months on Earth, but it was longer in..." Sam's breath hitched, and he turned back to Dean without completing the sentence.
Harry stared dumbfounded. "Hell? How did...How is that...oh Merlin...Hell?"
"He sold his soul for me..." Sam whispered, "They only just brought him back a couple months ago..."
Harry didn't need Hermione there to tell him that they didn't even have a measure for Hell in the article Susceptibility to Dementors According To Patient Life-Experiences, that St. Mungo's had published a few years back. This was bad.
"Sam," Harry said, and Sam turned back to him immediately. Harry realized he had slipped back into Auror-mood, but continued without stopping. "I can help your brother, but you are going to have to trust me completely. Can you do that?"
Harry watched as Sam's eyes bore into his own. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd have sworn that Sam was attempting some form of legimacy, but he didn't feel anyone rifling through his head, even though he didn't even attempt to counter. Sam simply stared at Harry for a solid few seconds, and then nodded. "I'll trust you."
"Good. Thank you," Harry replied, but he felt the weight of meaning behind Sam's words. Harry knew that if Dean didn't wake up, it would likely be the end of Harry.
Harry pulled out what looked like a flip-phone, but was actually a two way mirror.
"Phil," he said, and saw Phil's face swim into focus.
"Yessir?" Phil's voice came out crystal clear into the room. Harry suspected that Sam might just assume he was using the speaker phone setting, but knew that Sam would discover soon enough that Harry was a wizard, if he didn't suspect already. "I have a code M2-D. I need you to do a supply run immediately."
"Right away, Sir."
"And Phil?" Harry added, glancing at Sam.
"Yessir?"
"You have permission to apparate."
"Y...yessir," Phil gave Harry a concerned look through the mirror, just before Harry snapped the compact mirror shut and slid it back into his pocket.
Sam stood and looked at Harry. Harry had to admit, he much preferred when Sam had been kneeling. The younger man was far less intimidating when he wasn't so tall.
"What does M2-D, mean? Who are you?" Sam asked.
"M2-D means that a...person has been rendered unresponsive by a Dementor, but has not been kissed," Harry stated. "And as I told you, my name is Harry Potter...I'm a wizard, Sam."
Harry watched Sam's eyes widen in surprise, and he wondered which Sam would choose - to move towards the duffle bag on the floor that Harry suspected was full of weapons, or to continue to hover protectively over his brother. He decided that he couldn't take his chances on the answer.
"More specifically, I'm an Auror. That means that I'm a wizard who hunts down dark wizards and makes sure that they don't harm anyone and that they pay for any harm they have already caused. Do you understand? I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you or your brother."
Harry watched as Sam nodded.
"So...you're like a Hunter, only...?"
"A wizard," Harry finished with a smile, "that's one way to look at it. So, are you still going to trust me?"
Sam nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's.
"Good," Harry replied, just as Phil suddenly appeared just inside the door carrying a grocery bag and a white box. Sam tensed, but didn't move otherwise. Harry had to admit that he was quite impressed with how stoic the younger man was acting, when most would have been freaking out.
"Thanks, Phil," Harry said, and took the items out of Phil's hand. "Tell the boys to expand the protective perimeter to account for an unchartable susceptibility. All previous orders stay," Phil nodded gravely, glanced once more at Sam in either wonder or fear and then turned and disapparated.
Harry put the white box and the grocery bag on the table. He pulled a chocolate syrup bottle out of the grocery bag.
"Help yourself to that," he said to Sam, and gestured to the white box. Sam slowly left Dean's side and walked over to the table. Harry moved past him towards Dean. He heard Sam flip the box open.
"Cake?" Sam said, and Harry almost laughed at the tone. So rarely did anyone talk to him these days as though he were an idiot.
"I know it seems ridiculous," Harry replied glancing back at Sam, "but you did say you would trust me."
Sam shrugged, and began to serve himself some cake, finding the paper plates and plastic forks in the grocery bag. Harry had to admit that he was surprised Sam really did seem to trust him.
"You're going to force feed my brother chocolate syrup?" Sam asked warily.
"Yes, hopefully this will work. If I have to call in a Healer...well, let's just say, I don't want to do that," Harry pulled out his wand. Luckily, he knew just the spell that would work. He had used it on James when he had been sick as a baby and had refused to eat. Sam came over and sat on the other side of the bed with his piece of cake, and watched Harry.
Harry pulled out his wand, glancing at Sam quickly as he did so, but Sam only watched with open curiosity. The concern for Dean was still in his eyes, but Harry could tell that Sam didn't consider Harry a threat. Harry knew he should just be grateful and leave it alone, but his curiosity was growing.
Harry dripped chocolate syrup into the air above Dean, and then caught it with a muttered spell, leaving it to hover. He concentrated and lead the syrup through the air, he gently pulled Deans chin down until his lips parted, and then guided the syrup passed them. He muttered more incantations and placed his wand on Dean's throat, which swallowed in response.
Harry glanced up at Sam again, and began to repeat the procedure, this time, dividing his attention slightly. He could do these spells wordlessly after all.
"Sam?" Harry began, quietly, "Not that I want you to doubt your decision or anything, but can I ask...why are you trusting me?"
Sam gave him a bemused look.
"I mean, I'm thrilled, I really am. And you SHOULD trust me. I'm a nice guy and all...only want to help," Harry paused to make Dean swallow, and then realized that he had been rambling. "It's just...you and your brother, well you're Hunters! I somehow doubt you trust just anyone, especially people who are...different."
Harry was surprised when Sam ducked his head, as if embarrassed, and seemed to overly focus on getting another forkful of cake.
"You'll probably understand when he wakes up," Sam replied softly, not meeting Harry's eyes. Then Sam smiled, "plus, I'm sure you're aware that you have a scar on the back of your hand that says 'I must not tell lies'"
"Oh," Harry said, he had honestly forgotten about that.
"Is it working?" Sam changed the subject, nodding towards Dean.
Harry put a hand to Dean's cheek. "Yes, I think so. He seems a bit warmer, less pale. He should be awake though, I'll give him some more."
Harry repeated the process, while Sam stuffed cake in his mouth. This time, as soon as Harry made Dean swallow, Dean's eyes flew open. Harry immediately understood why Sam had trusted him. There, staring at him, were eyes that Harry had only ever seen in the mirror. Sam had green eyes, but there was a strange muddy quality to them, Dean's eyes, though, were pure green.
Of course, Harry only had a second to take it all in, before he found himself on the floor, his hand and wand pinned down, a knife at his throat, and those pure-green eyes boring into his menacingly. He heard a noise from Sam that Harry could only assume was the name Dean shouted around a mouthful of cake.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you?" Dean growled from on top of Harry.
"I brought cake," Harry replied without thinking, and then cursed himself for having perhaps the stupidest last words ever.
Chapter 3
Masterpost