Disclaimer: I neither own nor make a profit from Harry Potter, Supernatural, or Stargate.

Pairings: Eventual Hermione/Mini-Jack, probably Sam/Cassie Fraser and Dean/Jo

Spoilers: Everything for all three series.

Timeline: Begins the summer before Deathly Hallows and roughly six-seven years pre-series for Supernatural. Heavy spoilers for Supernatural, particularly "In The Beginning" and "The Song Remains The Same." Heavy spoilers for "Fragile Balance."

Summary: Hermione accidentally activates something she really shouldn't have and finds herself in another world entirely. Gabriel uses a new player on the board to his advantage.

Author's Notes: Why this way? I just don't realistically see Supernatural and Harry Potter existing in the same universe without some really complicated explanations. And I wanted to write about what Mary Winchester might have done if she'd survived instead of John. Why this instead of one of my other stories? My computer died and I lost most of what I'd written. I just haven't been able to summon the inspiration to rewrite those stories since. I have a couple chapters of this written. Stargate will come into this in five or six chapters, but it will only really be background information for now.

Chapter 1

Hermione let out a groan as she slowly regained consciousness. The bed was rather uncomfortable and her arms in a position which was causing her to cramp. Realizing that her arms were somehow being held in place above her head, she froze.

What had happened? This certainly wasn't her bed. The last thing she remembered was going to visit the local library to research what she'd need to know if she, Harry, and Ron ended up having to survive off the land during the upcoming Horcrux hunt. Mary-her mother-had made sure that Hermione knew how to survive in more urban settings and even how to track something in both urban settings and the wilderness, but Hermione had never had to live off the land before. There were too many witnesses and too many possible victims to risk hiding in a town or city on a long term basis. It might be a viable option for others, but Hermione was well aware that Harry was at the top of Voldemort's list and Hermione and Ron by association and as a result they would be heavily hunted.

There'd been a flash of light and then… The seventeen, soon to be eighteen year old paled. Somebody had hit her with a spell and kidnapped her. They were probably Death Eaters and considering the things she'd read about what said Death Eaters had done-at least before Leonard Johnston, the editor of the Daily Profit was murdered in 1972-painted a terrible picture of what fate awaited her.

Nobody would know anything was wrong, Hermione realized. At least not until she failed to show up at the Weasleys' home. Her mother had died several months earlier, according to Uncle Mark and Uncle Mark knew that she intended to go to ground at a moment's notice and wouldn't think anything odd about Hermione disappearing off the face of the Earth. Hermione's father had died when Hermione was barely more than a toddler and Uncle Mark-her mother's… business partner-pretended to be Mark Granger in front of the Wizarding because Mary had been warned by Tamar Marshall-an Obliviator who later became one of Mary's good friends-after one of Hermione's incidents of accidental magic as a child that Wizarding society as a whole looked down upon both unmarried and divorced single-mothers. Hermione had already discreetly put the word out about her plan to obliviate her "parents" and send them to Australia as Monica and Wendell Wilkinson to some of the members of the Order of the Phoenix in the hopes that either they'd accidentally let it slip or they'd reveal it if captured and tortured by the enemy. If even one Death Eater was sent to find her parents, then in Hermione's mind the ruse would be worth it.

Hearing nothing to suggest that anybody else was there, Hermione cautiously opened her eyes. She was laying flat on the floor, facing what looked like a ceiling with visible support beams. Judging by the construction, it wasn't all that modern a building. She looked to her left and saw odd markings upon the ground and walls, and the same to her right, as well as behind her and in the direction of her feet. Her arms were tied up with a rope and secured to a metal ring embedded in the floor, her legs secured in similar fashion to another ring, stretching her body so tightly between the two rings so that she could not bend her arms or legs more than a couple centimeters.

The markings suddenly made coalesced into a picture that made vague sense and in one awful moment Hermione realized what her captors intended. First Hermione tried to slip her hands or feet out of the ropes, only to realize whoever had tied her up had been too skilled and she'd be unable to do so. Panic set in and she struggled desperately against her bonds until her wrist and ankles were bruised and bleeding. Hermione would not just lay there and let those monsters use her as a human sacrifice. She would not allow them to use her body and soul to summon and control something. Not a demon-that didn't require a human sacrifice, just the demon's human remains-or a "god"-that was a far more difficult and complicated procedure. It had to be for one of the eldritch horrors trapped in Purgatory. There was a good reason why people who'd attempted such things in the past-like H.P. Lovecraft and his ilk-had gone completely insane. Some things were not meant for the human realm. Nothing good could come of this. Such creatures were essentially magical nuclear weapons and had been banned by the Wizarding rules of war since Minoan Wizarding society had destroyed itself several millennia prior. Nobody in their right mind wanted something like that to happen again.

But Voldemort wasn't in his right mind. From what research Hermione had done, she knew that creating even one Horcrux split a person's sanity along with their soul. Tom Riddle had essentially driven himself crazier than he was originally each time he'd created a Horcrux. Considering the sheer hypocrisy of his rhetoric and the signs of instability he'd shown from a young age, the man probably hadn't thought it all that big a sacrifice, assuming he'd known. It wasn't like Riddle had had access to the books in the Black family library or even to Mary's contacts. Mary had known somebody-Hermione didn't know who he was-who'd been able to find a couple references and stories about Horcruxes in Muggle legends and myths. Mark had delivered the research to Hermione the day after the Hogwarts Express had taken her back to London.

The realization that she had no wand on her only made her calm. Her captors had taken her wand, but was that the only weapon they'd taken off her body? Hermione had always kept several other weapons on her at all times after the basilisk incident. Her petrification had only proven the wand an unreliable weapon and with her mother's help, Hermione had found a couple weapons she could both use and carry discretely. Given Lockhart's proclivities, Hermione had also talked Aunt Tamar into teaching her the mind arts-although while she knew the theory she'd never actually manipulated anyone's memories before-and the basics of wandless magic. Hermione had no idea why Harry found learning occlumency so difficult, but was rather sure it was a combination of bad study habits and the mutual dislike/hatred between him and Professor Snape.

Wandless magic was not an option-in combination with the blood she'd inadvertently spilled, she might accidentally activate the ritual circle. That left one of her knives. From the feel of it, the knife she ordinarily kept in her right boot was gone and the one strapped to her left thigh was as well. Hermione shuddered slightly, realizing she was naked, somebody having removed her clothing. The only other option was the caltrops braided into her hair. A caltrop was made of twisted spines with sharpened edges. Normally they were used against troops or horses or cars, but these caltrops were small enough and discrete enough to be hidden in her hair. There were half a dozen equally spaced caltrops, with centimeter long iron spikes inlaid with silver along the length of her braid to make it both painful and dangerous for an attacker to use her waist length hair as a hand hold. Mary had always been against a woman keeping her hair more than a couple inches past their shoulder unless they constantly kept their hair in some sort of up do and had insisted on Hermione using the caltrops if she were going to grow her hair out.

The caltrops weren't the best for cutting, but the rope around her wrists was relatively thin and the tips of the spikes were very sharp.

Hermione lifted her shoulders up off the ground and flipped her head, trying to free her braid out from under her body. She did it twice, until the braid was in a pile under her head. Then she let her shoulders back down and jerked her head. The braid didn't quite reach, given that her hair was tightly braided and as a result much shorter when braided than when loose. She stretched her body as far as she could and inched her body up as far as she could until her elbows were slightly bent. Hermione jerked her head until the tip of the braid landed on her wrist.

With a sigh of relief, Hermione pulled the braid up and turned it so that the spikes faced the rope. She carefully set about piercing the rope, cutting one strand, and then another until only a couple threads remained. It was a little harder, but she managed to cut several of those threads. The rest snapped, allowing the rope around her wrists to slacken. Hermione quickly freed her wrists and sat up. It took her little time to untie the ropes around her ankles.

She went to apparate, only to let out a groan. She couldn't use magic, couldn't take the risk of apparating in this room.

Hermione wasn't exactly keen on going anywhere naked, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice in the matter. At least she was relatively sure that nothing particularly untoward had happened while she was unconscious. Well, she had none of the aches she'd come to associate with sex and there were no other signs, leading her to hope that her captors had not done something to her unconscious body. She let out a small, mirthless laugh before abruptly stopping herself.

There was only a single door and two windows, boarded up securely from the inside, so Hermione went to check the door. It was locked and she had no lock picks or hair pins on her, leaving her trapped. The hinges were on this side of the door, however. Hermione bit her lip, examining the hinges. Maybe she could take those pins out…

She pulled down a curtain, taking the curtain rod with it. Hermione bit the cloth of the thin curtain and ripped it, removing the side with the curtain rings in one neat movement. It took but a minute to shake the dust off the curtain and then wrap it around her body and tie it over one shoulder like a beach wrap. Over that she tied the rope around her waist like a belt to keep it in place. She picked up the curtain rod and tested its weight before deciding it had a nice heft and weight to it which would work well as a makeshift weapon without being too heavy for her to reasonably use. She checked the curtain rings before pulling one out to use to pry out the hinges. Like the spikes of her caltrops, it was too thick to use to pick the lock, unfortunately.

There was the sound of heavy steps, coming closer to the door. Hermione plastered herself against the wall behind the door.

There was a pause once the door opened, followed by a voice she faintly recognized as belonging to Marcus Flint demanding, "Where the hell did Granger go?"

"What do you mean?" asked Adrian Pucey, pushing Marcus into the room. "Where'd the little bitch go?"

It was then that Hermione struck. She rammed into the door, causing it to hit Adrian hard before bashing Marcus over the head with the curtain rod. Hermione hit Marcus in the stomach and stepped back, looking toward the door only to pale. The tip of Adrian's wand glowed as he let loose a spell.

In an instant the runes and sigils began to glow as the array activated. Hermione started to shake in fear as magic crackled over her skin. Through some fit of sheer stupidity, Adrian and Marcus seemed not to notice what was happening. Or maybe they just didn't care.

Hermione ducked out of the way of the spells before throwing herself at the door.

"Make sure she doesn't get away," ordered Marcus.

Adrian slammed the door shut, the sound of locks clicking into place echoing throughout the room. Nonetheless, he asked, "What are we going to do?"

"We can still salvage this."

All the while, Hermione backed away, edging toward the windows. They looked like they'd been securely blocked off, but maybe she could work a couple boards loose.

These idiots were trying to summon something like the Mother or Cthulu or even worse, a Leviathan. The last time a Leviathan had been summoned from Purgatory, the city of Atlantis had been destroyed along with a good portion of Minoa before they'd managed to put it back. Hermione had no idea if there was even a way to kill the damn things.

No, she had to do something, stop this before things got even worse.

The array had already been activated and there was no way to stop it completely. Maybe she could… redirect the magic somehow. It was incredibly dangerous to change an array when it was in the process of being used, but it was possible.

Hermione glanced at the array, trying to find a place where she could add or subtract something and change how the entire array worked. Arithmancy equations raced through her mind before she remembered something she'd seen in the Black's library the summer before Fifth Year. Hermione made a decision. She didn't quite remember what it did, but it had to be better than this. Like as not, it would kill her, but if it stopped Death Eaters from summoning something from Purgatory, it would be worth it. She would not let these men loose something like that on her friends, on the innocent people of this country.

Using one of the caltrops, Hermione split open one of the wounds around her right wrist. She tucked the curtain rod under one arm and began to draw a rune with her blood, intertwining her magic with that of the array as she went.

Marcus hit her with a spell, but it was only absorbed into the array, adding to its growing power. Hermione used the protection the array temporarily granted her to draw another rune in an equally strategic position before the men managed to gather their wits. Adrian rushed her and Hermione struck out, hitting him in the throat. He fell to the ground coughing helplessly as he attempted to breathe. Hermione ran to the center of the room. She managed to paint the final rune in the center of the array a moment before some sort of weight hit her.

As Hermione slipped into unconsciousness, she realized that Marcus had tackled her.

There were so few that traveled between worlds these days that he could not help but notice the feeling of somebody slipping into this dimension. Whoever had done it had actually remembered to use the proper enochian symbols and the ritual to transport their body as well instead of just their consciousness.

Gabriel couldn't help but investigate.

It took him but a moment to find the beings responsible, but he would never had expected what he found.

Three fully realized nephilim lay scattered about a small clearing near a small town in Suffolk. Instead of the weak psychics and angelic vessels nephilim-the descendents of the children resulting from dalliances between humans and angels-had become, these were nephilim with full access to their powers and abilities and something faintly resembling training. Although he wasn't sure he liked what he saw of this training in their memories.

In this dimension, nephilim had been deemed too powerful by Lucifer and he'd had his forces kill off as many of them as possible. Those who hadn't died had had their powers bound by other demons, leaving them with little in the way of power. Most were merely possible angelic vessels. Some were capable of using what little abilities they had, becoming psychics, but those were few and far between. This trio was obviously from a dimension where Lucifer had no managed to do anywhere near as much damage.

The men were idiots, barely a step above demons in Gabriel's mind. But the woman… the woman was interesting. She had potential.

Gabriel was well aware about Lucifer's little plan to be let out of the cage a couple millennia early. He was equally aware of Michael's desire to go along with this, and even his manipulation of Mary Campbell and John Winchester by the those annoying little cupids to create the right vessels so that he and Lucifer could duke it out, never mind that the Apocalypse wasn't scheduled to take place just yet.

If his brothers wanted to play games… well, Gabriel felt he might as well join in. This woman was more than capable of throwing a spanner in the works. Although she couldn't do much as she was right now. But it wouldn't take all that much to change things to better suit his plans.

Hermione didn't quite expect to wake up again. At least she was on a bed, Hermione supposed. It took her a little longer to recognize the antiseptic smell of doctors offices and hospitals everywhere. Cautiously she opened her eyes, taking in that she was in a hospital with a great deal of relief.

Alright… she'd been kidnapped and almost used as a human sacrifice and then she'd used her own blood and magic to change the array so that it did something other than summon something from Purgatory. But what did she do? Hermione was very intelligent, but she didn't have an eidetic memory, so with the aid of her occlumency skills she attempted to reconstruct what had happened.

For some reason it was difficult for her to concentrate. Damnit. She'd been a painkiller of some sort. A serious one, judging by how off she felt. Pain killers always made her feel a bit loopy. The ones she'd been given when her mother had stitched the wound caused by Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries had had her singing Dolly Parton songs-her love of country music was something she almost never spoke about, it was something private she and her mother had shared.

She wouldn't be able to think until the pain killers cleared from her system. With a mental shrug, Hermione began to hum a song she thought was called 'All the Gold in California.' She loved that song. Hermione drifted off to sleep around the second chorus of 'Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me.'

Hermione wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when she next awoke, a nurse was checking her over. The nurse clucked over her, saying something about her having gone through a terrible ordeal and being such a "poor dear." The nurse sent in a pair of cops not long after.

She couldn't quite focus her eyes on the detectives and her concentration wavered enough that though she knew they were called Greer and Hollis, she had no idea which was which.

"Can you tell me your name?" asked one of them.

"Hermione." It was Hermione. It was always Hermione. Even when everything else changed, her given name was always Hermione.

"… mother's name?"

Hermione's brow wrinkled, trying to figure out the question. Oh, the man wanted to know her mother's name as well. "Elaine. It's Elaine Cooper." That was the name Mary was using now, right?

"No, Mommy isn't married," she said. That's right. She was supposed to say that Mary was either divorced or had never married, depending upon current cover story. She was never to admit that Mary was a widow. "At least not to my dad. She says she's married to Uncle Mark sometimes."

"Who's Uncle Mark?"

Hermione shrugged. "Uncle Mark and Mommy work together and sometimes they say he's my dad and he and Mommy are married but they're really not."

"Why would they do that?"

"It's not right for a woman to have a child out of wedlock. So Uncle Mark lies to protect me and Mommy."

The detectives shared a look before they questioned her about her father again.

"I don't have a dad," insisted Hermione.

"But doesn't everybody have a father?" said one of the men.

"Yes," conceded Hermione.

"Surely there's something you can tell us about him."

"I don't have a dad," she amended. "But I do have a father." The officer cajoled her a bit until finally Hermione admitted, "His name's John Winchester. But I don't use his name. I use Mommy's name."

She hadn't used the Winchester name or acknowledged John Winchester or Roseanne Winchester's existence since the fire. Hermione had barely been four years old at the time, but she would always remember her mother literally picking her up out of her bed and running out of the house a moment before it had exploded into flames. John and Roseanne-Hermione's four month old sister-had not survived.

It was then that Hermione had learned the truth. It was then that Hermione had learned that the supernatural was real and that once, her mother had been a hunter.

After that, Mary had fled the country, Hermione in tow, and gone to stay with a couple members of the extended Campbell family in the United Kingdom. Shortly thereafter Mary had gone to ground, doing everything she could to hide from the demons that came after Hermione with terrifying regularity. Hermione had had dozens of names and identities by the time she entered Hogwarts. Mary had initially tried to stay out of hunting, but had given in nearly a year after the fire and started hunting again, admitting that her desire for a normal life had been selfish.

It wasn't until the summer following Hermione's Third Year that she'd learned about Mary's dealings with Azazel, one of Lucifer's generals. After hearing about how Hermione had almost been Kissed by a dementor, Mary had pulled out the good alcohol and they'd gotten drunk together. That night, Hermione had heard the strangest tales of Dean and Sam, her time travelling brothers that might-have-been and the miscarriage Mary had had thanks to some sort of monster attacking them. As a result Dean had never been born and later, Mary had made sure that the second child she'd conceived could not have been Sam. Hermione would have considered the story too fantastical to believe, if not for her experience with the Wizarding and the time turner. Mary and Hermione had never spoken of such things again, but Hermione would never forget.