Exorcizamus

Song of the chapter Speaking in Tongues-Eagles of Death Metal.

So this is a crossover of Supernatural and Harry Potter. This is my favourite type of SPN x-over, there aren't enough out there we need more! This story starts just after "Family Remains" ends, literally. After Dean's sinister confession, the boys head to a nearby motel. Dean leaves Sam alone for a while, cause well yeah, and watch the episode and you'll understand. Anyhow I hope you enjoy the story. (This first bit is a bit Angst! Dean, so you don't have to read it. =]) This is sort of a prologue, a taster if you will. If you like the look of it please review and I'll write moar!!!



Dean couldn't quite work out whether telling Sam was a good thing. Sure, he could have carried around the fact that he loved ripping defenceless souls to shreds. But after ribbing Sam about going "Dark Side" and lying to his face about it, well, it would be hypocritical to say the least. His heart had turned cold when he realised that, maybe he had tortured that poor families son. The boy who only died in a car crash, too young to die. To find himself at the merciless shredding, of a near demonic Dean Winchester, in the fiery pits. It turned his stomach over that he could have torn apart a grieving families son, and loved it. Dean could feel himself slipping farther and farther away from any human conscience, every second he was there he felt a roaring presence just aching to take over. Something held it back, the only thing that could have ever kept Dean human.

Sam.

The faintest memory of Sam drove It back. It was repelled by Dean's love for his little brother. Not even the pit could take away his deep-seated vigil of look after Sammy. Dean feared that without him there, he would have given up and jumped off that rack in the first day. Sam didn't quite know it but he was Deans anchor in the human world now, without him there he would collapse into himself and It would take over. That was something that Dean was desperately trying to avoid.

~~~~~~~~~######~~~~~~~~~

The seedy bar was unlucky enough to be graced by Dean's agitated presence. The hunter was hunched over, nursing a half-full beer bottle. His devastatingly green eyes were boring holes in the bar-top. He took a swift swig and carefully placed the bottle back to the bar, sliding a 2-dollar bill beside it. He deftly swung the distressed, dark-brown leather jacket over his wide sloping shoulders, and slipped quietly from the bar.

The crisp, clean air cut through Dean's lungs, as he whispered his way along cracked pavements. Not really knowing where he was going, he let his feet lead to wherever they felt like taking him. Past busy shop windows, take-aways and betting shops. Snapping himself out of his musings, he noticed a group of oddly dressed people walking quickly up ahead. Dean fought the urge to yell that Halloween was still, a few months away but resisted. Dean could tell that something was off. The way they walked suggested that they were in a hurry, and didn't want to be seen. They veered off into a dark alleyway, momentarily disappearing from sight. Dean quickly caught up, curiosity piqued. There were about five in all, all of them wearing some kind of deeply coloured robe. They talked in low, hurried voices. Dean hid in the shadow of a large dumpster, not really wanting to be seen.

After a few minutes, they broke their tight group. One of them, a short man with thinning red hair stood back from the group. He made a popping sound. Then he vanished. No trace of him left behind.

Dean was astounded. This was like nothing he had ever seen before, he watched while three more popped and disappeared. He ran through his mental encyclopaedia of the supernatural, trying to find something that fit these…well… people?

Dean waited until there was only one person left. She was a tall woman, with a long, dark green, velvet robe. Taking his 45. Out of his jeans waistband he leapt from behind the dustbin.

"You! Don't move!"

The woman whipped around holding a long stick in her hand. A nagging fear, at the back of Dean's head told him that it was just as dangerous as his gun.

"Who are you boy?" A cold Scottish accent pierced the taught air.

"I guess I could ask you the same question, with you and your cronies vanishing into thin air." The woman's stern face, tightened even more. She eyed his gun suspiciously, as if trying to work out what it was. Stepping towards Dean, she lifted her stick to chest height. Dean reacted by cocking the gun, and aiming it right between her eyes.

"My name is Minerva McGonagald. You would do well to show me respect muggle." Though not really understanding the meaning of the word, Dean got the feeling that he had just been insulted.

"Dean Winchester. You, better hold your tongue witch." He was grabbing at straws, he took a wild guess that seemed to have hit home. A vein in her aged forehead pulsed.

"Obliviate!"

The flash of light soared towards Dean, who didn't know what on earth was going on. In a vain attempt to control the situation, he shot at the little ball of light. It did little to its current course, and slammed into Dean's chest. A ripple of light skimmed over Dean's body, sinking into through his clothes and into his skin. It felt as though a cold tap had started running through him, trickling it's way around his body. He felt empowered, strong, and a little angry. He straightened himself out, staring darkly at Minerva.

"That wasn't very nice."

He swung his 45. to chest height, and fired off a single bullet.

But McGonagald was gone, before he even pulled the trigger.


So what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Review and let me know!!