Title: Superheroes (are only freaks with masks)
Fandom: Harry Potter x Supernatural
Words: 4303s
Warnings: NOTHING! Le Gasp! There is no slash in sight! Just silliness! No drama, or torture, or sex. The first fic with Supernatural in it that I post, and it's not Slash. What is the world coming to?
AN: Inspired by (the wonderful) Millie-Winks, and Sam and Deans talk about superheros in her story (which happens to be adorable) By the way, my dearest Millie, I'm supposed to be updating three stories the instant I'm writing this. From now on, everyone who wants me to update faster – email her. Attack, Attack! Mwa ha ha. Pen Wars will start anew!
"Are you sure this is necessary?" Harry Potter was standing inside a darkened alleyway, alternating between glaring out at Sirius and pulling at his outfit. He didn't want to step out of the shadows in case someone saw him.
"Yep." Sirius nodded, a solemn look on his face.
"The entire outfit?" Harry really, really wanted Sirius to be joking.
"Absolutely." Harry cringed and pulled at his pants.
"Even...even the...tights?" The word 'tights' was whispered like many whisper 'you-know-who.'
Sirius nodded once more, not even sure himself how he wasn't pissing himself laughing. At the end of Harrys fifth year, during the battle in the Department of Mysteries, Harry had followed Sirius through the veil. The two had arrived in what had always been something of a dead zone, or a no man's land, for magic. It all just seemed to be sucked away, and no one could figure out why. The only magical people in America were exiles from their country of origin.
This America, however, was crawling with magic. The entire place was almost humming with the magical energy. It took less than an hour for Harry and Sirius to figure out that this is where the magic belonging to their worlds America was being sucked to. With the magic practically saturating the air, it was no surprise that there were magical creatures almost everywhere.
Ghosts, Poltergeists, Werewolves, Vampires, Nixes, Wendigo, Shape shifters, Psychics, Ghouls, Spirits and even Demons were rampant. The part of Harry that housed the hero complex, and the part of Sirius that couldn't pass up adventure, danger and sharp, shiny, pointy things immediately jumped on the bandwagon of 'save the unsuspecting villagers from the evil monsters of the night.'
Even though they weren't really villagers, more like suburbanites, and the evil monsters of the night weren't always evil or monsters, it was still a valid occupation – according to Sirius. But since it didn't actually pay, Harry also worked in a bar. Sirius' contribution to their income was beating people at poker.
But their desire to save people was the reason Harry was trying unsuccessfully to escape through the wall via osmosis.
'You're going to be a hero, Harry! We're going to be heroes! But, we'll need costumes.'
Sirius chose their costumes, which is why Sirius was standing there in leather pants and a black trench coat looking like some type of mob enforcer with his wraparound sunglasses and guns and Harry was wearing black tights, and a black leotard.
"Please, Sirius, can we just change my outfit? Why can't we match?" Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Because there can't be two leather clad, gun wielding masked crusaders defending the innocent and unprepared from the sly, slippery, soul sucking demons of the night." Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
"You practiced that, didn't you?" Sirius removed palm cards from his trench coat pocket and waved them around a bit. There was a stalemate as Sirius tried not to wilt under the paint stripping glare of the once saviour.
"I don't wield guns, Sirius." Harry moved slightly and the dim, flickering light of a distant street lamp dully reflected off a few of the knives hanging from his belt.
"That's Right. You're all stabby, stabby, jab, jab." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Sirius. We are going home and I'm getting a different costume. Or we're going to go do a break and enter on a costume shop -" He was cut off by Sirius brilliant smile, seconds before he ran off.
"I know this great place!" Harry sighed, rolling his head back to view the night sky.
"Why?" He groaned before running off after the grown man who, Harry was sure, had some type of rare form of ADD or ADHD which stemmed purely from idiocy, rather than anything else. Harry started to job after Sirius, thankful that it was night, so no one was out, and even if they were it was too dark to really see more than a shadow.
After a few blocks, Harry followed Sirius' lead and stopped in front of a shop. Harry looked around to see if anyone was watching them, ignoring the fact that it took less than ten seconds for Sirius to pick the lock and get inside. Without magic.
The costume shop was worse than Harry had imagined. French maid outfits, sexy nurses, and short skirts ran rampant. Harry looked around, slightly wary of touching anything, until Sirius called out for him. Harry walked over and was hit in the face by a pair of boots that slammed into his nose.
"Fuck! Sirius!" Harry clutched his nose, trying to stem the bleeding. He tilted his head back while trying to glare at Sirius. The man just shrugged, a smile on his face as he continued to rummage through an old chest.
"This box contains random piece of costume wear that no long have a full costume, or which have become out of date." Harry sat down, letting go of his nose and just allowing the blood to run down his face.
"You shall wear those boots, instead of your joggers, these pants instead of your tights and this shirt instead of that leotard." Sirius threw the clothes at Harry, before bouncing off to go find a mask. Harry looked at the clothing and rolled his eyes. The pants were made of a black, untreated hide and were hardly any better than his current tights in the matter of exactly how tight they'd be. The top was a formal shirt made of cotton and was a dusky orange colour.
The boots, though, were the worst. Harry pulled them up, and the black leather finished just under his knees. Thankfully they didn't have a heel – or there would be one less wizard in this universe. Altogether, the outfit made him look like just as much of a pansy as the all black tights and leotard combination. Harry sighed. He knew that it was as good as he was going to get.
Sirius was merciless, and Harry was thinking he shouldn't have thrown cold water on the man to wake him up a few weeks ago.
Before Harry could go look for Sirius, the black haired man bounced out from behind a clothing rack. He was now wearing a hockey mask, the bone white contrasting with the rest of his black outfit. Harry cringed as he imagined what Sirius had picked out for him. Maybe a pink, sparkly fairy mask or a cat woman-esque eye mask.
The mask that Sirius produced, however, wasn't something obscene or incredibly girly. It was basically a fancy bandana. If Harry tied it at the base of his neck, it would cover his nose, mouth and the bottom half of his face. Sirius then passed over the wraparound sunglasses that he'd been wearing previous to the hockey mask.
"To cover those green, green eyes of yours. Dead give away." Harry took the sunglasses and popped them on. There was a convenient mirror that Sirius dragged him to and Harry sighed. While the knives strapped to his waist and upper thighs along with the facial covering gave him an overall look of menace and danger, the clothes still looked like he couldn't chose whether he was going to visit his mother or the previous century.
"Pretty dangerous, eh Harry?" The almost sixteen year old sighed.
"Yes Sirius. I am forever thankful that I can burn the tights and leotard."
"Yeah. Still looks like your wearing tights though, so I'm going to take many photos." Luckily no one was in need of saving that night, because the two wannabe superheroes were occupied. Being beaten, and beating someone up – respectively.
"Sirius?" Harry's voice was calm, even. One hand was resting on a D guard Bowie knife he'd stolen from a museum a while back. Both he and Sirius were looking in the same direction, and neither man had even blinked at the juggernaut hurtling towards them.
"Yes Harry?" Sirius' voice was equally as calm. It was though the two unusually dressed and masked wizards were merely taking a walk in the park, rather than facing this world's equivalent of Fenrir Greyback.
"I left my silver knife at home – because you told me that there's no chance we'd run into a werewolf." Harry voice was still pleasant, but there was an edge to it that made Sirius wince. It was not good when Harry got angry. Normally he was calm and happy go lucky. When he was angry or they were on one of their random nightly missions – shit gets broke. Most often Sirius' nose.
"Ah ha...yeah, about that...I was...ah...joking?" Sirius's nervous laugh trailed off pathetically, as he reached for his gun. He would be the distraction, as usual. Sirius, though needlessly idiotic sometimes, was well aware that Harry was stronger than him both physically and magically – not that magically mattered too much anymore.
Their wands hadn't survived the dimensional trip, and there were no wand makers in the new world. The best the Sirius had been able to do was sense the magic in the air, and sometimes mould it to his wishes, but it strained him phenomenally.
Harry, however, had a larger magical strength and core. He was able to place his hands flat to the earth, and access his magic that way – through the very core of the Earth itself. Sirius had once said that he was like some type of male Naiad. Minus the masculinity. Accessing the Earths core was not only extremely dangerous, but draining, so Harry could do that as much as Sirius could mould the wild magic floating around.
But their magic had nothing to do with his role as a distraction. Harry had, since coming to the new world, not felt the restraints placed on him by the wizarding world for the first time in years, and had relaxed. This meant that all the anger and hatred that he buried deep within his psyche as a child and during his early teenage years came bubbling to the surface. The hunts were good for him to release his anger.
"Shut up and distract Sirius." The elder man rolled his eyes. He was really getting slightly too old for this – but only slightly. He was still young! Ish! But god, if that Werewolf got any closer to snapping his arse, Harry was going to have to cook him every meal for the next month.
Sirius continued to run; chancing a look back and feeling his confidence returning as he saw Harry slip the two D guard Bowie knives from his 'tool belt.' Harry took a deep breath and started off after them. Sirius drew a gun and turned, shooting at the werewolf to draw its attention.
"Oi! Fat arse! Guess what? I shagged your Yo Momma!" Sirius shouted, shaking his arse a bit, and he could almost hear Harry rolling his eyes over the sound of the gun shots. The taunt had the desired effect, though, and the werewolf focused all his attention on Sirius once again.
Sirius continued to run, and breathed a sigh of relief as Harry jumped on the werewolf's back and drew his attention. Sirius continued to run, just so that he was out of the creatures arm (and muzzle) length, and scowled at the slight tear in his trench coat. He kept his gun out, and trained it on the werewolf's heart, waiting for harry to vent his frustration.
Harry was using his legs to stay on the werewolf, almost like a cowboy at a rodeo, and was wielding the knives expertly. Any time the clawed imitation of hands got near him, Harry stabbed them with the knives. Eventually Harry managed to stab all the way up the monsters arms, rendering them completely useless. Harry then grabbed the fur on top of the werewolves head with one hand, easily retaining his grip on the knife, and used his other knife to slash the werewolf's throat.
The werewolf crashed to the ground, and Harry used the force of the fall to drive the other knife through the werewolf's thick skull. Sirius approached, almost casually, and smiled at Harry who was sitting on the dead carcass. Harry looked up from wiping his knives on the fur, and smiled at his guardian.
"You should probably shoot it with those silver bullets of yours. Just to be certain." Sirius nodded and Harry stood up, kicking the werewolf over so Sirius had a clean shot at its heart.
"Yet another victory for the masked avengers. Fighting the good fight, saving the innocents, keeping our identities a secret from our adoring fans so that we can live some facade of a normal life. Day by day, night by night, we persevere-"
"To protect the people of our precious home of Petropolis. Yes, you loser, I have heard this before. You say it every time. You do realise that we're not avengers, and we have no adoring fans. In fact, that werewolf carcass is going to turn into a human being again soon and once again the police will be searching for two masked avengers to question, detain and imprison for the murder of a 'human being'." They both ignored the quiet footsteps approaching, too involved in their conversation.
"And we don't even live in a place called Petropolis! What were you on when you thought up that speech?" Sirius sighed dramatically.
"Ah, Reaper. If only you possessed the same sense of drama that I do. Our nightly pursuits could be so entertaining. Can't you see it?" Harry shook his head at Sirius.
"Why do you call me that stupid name?"
"When we are our alter ego's we must assume different names to protect our real identities!" Harry sighed in a very annoyed kind of manner.
"Then why did you use my name earlier? You were all like '-" Sirius cut Harry off, once again back to his grandiose personality which Harry was scared to admit was his scarily similar normal one.
"Uh, uh, uh, Reaper! What is in the past has passed, we mustn't dwell." And Sirius twirled around, his trench coat flaring out.
"You're such a weirdo. You act as if you're the leader in this team." Sirius laughed, then, a very haughty, depreciating, Lucius Malfoy like laugh.
"Reaper, Reaper, Reaper. Since I am so obviously the more handsome one of us, with the better feel for the personality it takes to be a superhero, I am clearly the leader." Harry rolled his eyes and trudged after Sirius, eyes staring up at the sky. Neither of them had noticed their audience yet.
"Which is why you hide your face with a hockey mask; because you're undeniably beautiful. I have a name for you now, oh great leader." Sirius span around again, and Harry was starting to feel like he'd stolen some form of alcohol or another before their jaunt tonight.
"I hide my face, because I wouldn't want to blind you or our adoring fans. And you have a name for me? How marvellous." He stood there, and Harry could see the excitement through the slits in the mask for his eyes.
"Zangetsu." Sirius placed a hand to the chin of his mask, striking an unsurprisingly dramatic pose.
"Zangetsu...interesting. What does it mean my dear sidekick Reaper?" Harry rolled his eyes, even though it wasn't visible, and shrugged.
"No idea. I saw this t.v show the other day, some type of cartoon, and this guy called Zangetsu was a character." Sirius bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times.
"Was he roguishly handsome? Devilishly good looking? Amazingly attractive?" Sirius questioned, and Harry wished his smiled was visible through the bandana.
"Nope. He was a fortyish year old man with unkempt facial hair, ragged, long black hair who dresses in tattered black garbs and a long flowing overcoat. They even called him Old man Zangetsu." There was a silence as Sirius took in what had just been said.
"What? NO! I'm not old; please! No, a different nickname. Please. Reaper, I beg of you." Sirius had fallen to his knees and Harry rolled his eyes.
"Grab hold of yourself, man. You're creeping out the corpse." Sirius peered around Harry a bit to see the corpse of a slowly transforming werewolf. It was grotesque. If face was halfway between a wolfs muzzle and a scarred, twisted, hate filled face of a now dead man.
"When you say things like that, it only reinforces my calling you Reaper. And the fact that you actually own a scythe." Sirius stood up and twirled around again.
"At least, with giving me a name as your leader, you have embraced the fighting, dramatic spirit that is needed of a superhero!" Harry sighed again, rolling his eyes. He took a few steps before he crashed into Sirius.
"Reaper! Our night time romp fighting villains has been intruded upon." Harry rolled his eyes. It always sounded wrong when Sirius raid the word 'romp.' Just something about the word, and Sirius himself, making it feel not only dirty, but extremely sexual.
"I'm sure Old Man. It's not another dog again, is it? Because I really don't want to have to adopt another stray because it saw too much." Harry now had five dogs, four if you didn't include Sirius. Harry looked around Sirius, and was surprised to see that Sirius had been right. There were, in fact, two people standing there, staring at them.
"Well, I'll be damned." Harry exclaimed.
"It's not too bad once you get used to it." Harry snorted at the so far unknown mans comment. He was the shorter one, and Harry had to agree with his statement.
"Reaper, do my eyes deceive me?" he ignored Harry's solemn statement of 'probably' and continued. "Leather, weapons, a masked crime fighting duo much like ourselves! Finally, comrades in arms!" Harry sighed. Sirius was grasping at straws. Again. It was obvious that something resembling charcoal had slammed into the faces of the two men, resulting in individual black patterns on both of their faces. But, once Sirius got into character, he went all out.
"Dude, are you wearing tights?" The same man that had spoken before said, looking straight at Harry, who frowned.
"Shut up, they aren't tights. Their just...really tight pants made of untreated leather which just happens to resemble tights at a distance." The other, taller, man valiantly failed smothering a snicker. Harry glared at them both.
"Aren't you glad I talked you out of that silly leotard costume now, Reaper?" Harry could feel a tick start to develop at the corner of his eye. Tonight was not a good night, not at all.
"Dude, that too easy. I'm not even going to touch that one." He shook his head, and Harry could see the corners of his mouth turning up in mirth. Harry had no idea how the two men had gotten to be three meters away without he or Sirius noticing.
"It's like you, then? Easy and not worth touching?" Harry snapped back, and both men paused for a second, before the taller one howled with laughter while the man who insulted Harry's choice of trousers scowled.
"Easy, men. We should not be bickering among ourselves when there is evil out there for us to defeat." Sirius struck another pose, and Harry could honest to god feel an aneurism approaching. It was bad enough in private, but now actual people would be witness to Sirius'...Sirius-ness. Not to be mistaken with seriousness; a word banned from Sirius presence. Literally. One day he announced that it was never to be stated or even thought of in his presence again.
"Is that guy for real?" The taller man's voice was incredulous, and Harry couldn't blame him. If Sirius wasn't family, Harry probably would have snapped and killed him long before this night.
"Unfortunately."
"So, will you enlighten us as to your names, good sirs? I am called Zangetsu, and this is my faithful sidekick Reaper." The shorter man beamed and then gave a theatrical half bow.
"I am Halen, Hendrix Van Halen. This is my b-e-a-utiful sidekick Justin Bieber." The taller man emitted a strangled sound and then turned a furious glare to 'Hendrix van Halen.' Harry felt sorry for him. He had obviously been named on the spot with the most degrading name his 'leader' could think of. Harry knew what that felt like.
"Wonderful names, chums. I do rather wonder if you will be staying in town for any longer. We could collaborate with each other; make the missions to eradicate evil easier." Sirius flicked a card towards them, which the taller one snatched out of the air. Sirius then drew himself up to his impressive full height of six foot three, and gave an assessing stare to the two of them.
"May we meet again in our quest for justice, righteousness, and a world free for our children to walk at night – unfearing of the darkness." And then Sirius threw a pellet at the ground, the thin cloud of dust making his escape kind of invisible.
When the dust clear, Harry was standing there, Sirius held in place by Harrys hand around the collar of his shirt.
"I am almost one hundred percent certain that I will kill myself if you ever manage to procreate." Harry sighed, letting go of Sirius collar.
"You can't just run out like that, especially when dealing with...allies." Harry shook his head and approached the two; he didn't miss the way the shorter man's hand automatically went for where Harry assumed he had some type of weapon hidden. Harry took the card back, and rolled his eyes and what was written on it.
'The heroes of Petropolis can be reached by a scream of terror from an innocent citizen trying to escape the clutches of evil.'
Harry rolled his eyes. What a stupid calling card. How was that going to help? They couldn't be everywhere all the time. It was false advertising. Not that Harry was surprised, because it was Sirius.
"Do you have a pen?" The taller man dug into his pocket and handed it to Harry. Harry flipped over the card and wrote his phone number.
"If you need us while you're in town. We aren't nomadic; because I could not stand an extended period of time that would necessary to travel with Captain makes-me-want-to-an-hero over there." The two of them nodded, and Harry handed the card and pen back, before walking back over to Sirius.
"And Zangetsu, that was a shitty exit. For all the drama you always talk about, it was severely lacking. This is how you do a proper exit." Harry turned towards 'Hendrix' and 'Bieber,' a deadly look on his face not really hindered by the bandana and glasses.
"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." It was spoken quietly, and the two watching didn't think they'd heard right. Harry took a step forward, slowly drawing a knife from its sheath at his waist.
"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." It was said slightly louder, but not by much. Another step was taken forward. Now both men knew what they were hearing, but couldn't really believe it.
"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." This was said slightly louder than normal, and another step forward was taken along with a brandish of the deadly looking knife which could have classified as a short sword.
"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." The two men backed up slightly at a particularly vicious slash, accompanied by a combination shuffle jump forward.
"My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!" This was shouted and Harry slashed the knife down, releasing it so that it slammed into the dusty concrete road. There was complete silence and stillness for a second, before dust and dirt exploded everywhere, concealing Harry and Sirius.
There was a menacing laugh from somewhere within the giant cloud of debris, which was cut off by the sound of an open palm slamming into the back of a head.
"What? I was trying to add a bit of drama to your boring routine!" A voice hissed, in a bad attempt at a whisper.
"Hey, I watched The Princess Bride before we left, leave me alone. And at least mine isn't over done, predictable and completely tacky." There was a gasp of horror as the dust cloud started to disappear, and the two hunters thought they would see the 'masked avengers' once more.
There was no one there in the street, however, except for the two of them and a corpse. Both spun around, trying to find where there gasped statement of 'you think I'm tacky?' was echoing from. They didn't find anything, however, and Dean snatched the business card from Sam's hand.
"That was pretty cool." Sam said. Dean gave a half nod, half shrug.
"Yeah, but he was still wearing tights." Sam shook his head, and followed Dean towards the corpse. They would get rid of it before somebody saw it, as the duo of obviously insane hunters hadn't thought to with their insane exits and unnecessarily dramatic and theatrical way of...well...existing.
"You know, Sam, I feel like a drink." Sam snorted, shaking his head from where he was dragging his part of the corpse.
"With that last scene, I feel like I've already smashed myself, eaten hallucinogenic mushrooms and watched every Charlie the Magic Unicorn. I'm just glad that they weren't wearing anything excessively bright."
"That orange shirt was a bit iffy."
"Your taste in music is a bit iffy."
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
The rest of the way with the corpse was silent.