Warnings (I may have forgotten some): character death, violence, abuse, alcohol as a coping mechanism, Harry hates herself, as do most supernatural characters, questionable morals, basically everything already in supernatural, powerfulish!Harry, sporadic updates
I think that's it but tell me if I miss anything. Also I have a basic plot and where I want this to head but I don't mind adding or changing things so if you have any ideas or things you'd like to see included please message or review, I'd really appreciate it. First chapter's quite short but its just an intro really, so proceed...
Someone had put a blanket around her shoulders, one of the policemen she suspected; though she couldn't be certain since her mind wasn't processing anything properly. Every thought wound back to George, the way his normally vibrant eyes had turned glassy and vacant, the blood on his chest, on her hands. She couldn't escape the pungent odor of copper, it permeated the very fiber of her being, leaving her nauseated.
Afterwards in the hospital, when asked to share her memories of the event she could only recall the blanket and the pervading crushing realization that even heroes aren't permitted happy endings; maybe especially heroes. Her fiance's cause death was recorded as extensive internal and external trauma, the date 31st October 2001. He was 23 years old. At the time nobody thought to suspect her, despite her lack of identification and somewhat muddled account of the murder: she was only 21, still a child by most standards and had also been quite severely injured in the attack. It was not until years later, after she had vanished again from all reputable sources that Agent Henrickson connected her to the legendary Winchester brothers and began to theorize on the beginning of the emergence of her 'true' self (delusional and violent according to him, before he knew the truth anyway). However for that moment Harriet Potter was free to leave, though only after the funeral of course.
Harry paid her medical bills in cash and left Southern Wyoming, the city which she and her fiance inexplicably found themselves after their brief but bloody battle with the previously covert surviving sect of death eaters. The city where she relived the rising of Voldemort, the loss of her Godfather and the considerable destruction of the Second Wizarding War just minutes before she witnessed the death of George. By that point she had already figured out that the Veil residing in the department of mysteries that she had been so unceremoniously forced through was actually some sort of one way gateway to another dimension, one that as far as she could tell didn't even a Wizarding world; though in all honestly she didn't exactly look very hard - everything seemed rather redundant without George there. Only the possibility that Sirius was alive and in this dimension kept her functional. At the first opportunity she brought a beautiful 1962 Nortan Atlas. Though she couldn't claim to be an expert on bikes, she knew Sirius's old Triumph inside-out thanks to Arthur's penchant for pulling it apart, and the Nortan seemed to be of a similar quality and build. So, nothing behind her and everything ahead of her, with a full tank of gas, a little less than $100, and no honest method of obtaining more, Harry Potter hit the road.
Time to find her Godfather.
