Love, Fate and Prophecy: Bloodright
Part Four: Chapter Seven – Nobody Expects the British Men of Letters!
Season Six – Episode Eight (All Dogs Go to Heaven) & Episode Nine (Clap Your Hands if You Believe…)
Dear Head Auror Potter,
It is with great regret that we inform you that we have received intelligence that you knowingly performed magic in a muggle-inhabited area in the presence of muggles. Furthermore, you did not contact the proper authorities to have said muggles obliviated.
Not only is this a severe breach of the International Statute of Security, but it has also been reliably reported that said muggles are non-British Hunters. This means that you have violated no less than seven counts of the Statute.
As of your reception of this letter, you are hereby put on administrative leave, effective immediately.
Due to the severity of this crime, your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 11 a.m. on the eleventh of August.
Yours sincerely,
Hermione Weasley-Granger
Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement
For a second, all Harry could do was stare at the letter that arrived via owl just as he came in for the first time today. 'What the fuck?' Harry thought to himself. "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!" he yelled, loud enough for the Aurors in the hallway outside of his office to hear him.
"Ah, Harry, you got the letter," Hermione said, as she entered his office without knocking and with Ron in tow.
"What the hell, Hermione?"
"I didn't have a choice. He was sneaky about it – like the snake that he is. But I don't want you to worry about it. We'll clear this up with Kingsley, maybe even before the full session of the Wizengamot. And if it does go all the way to the hearing, I will quit my job and represent you myself."
Harry looked at her like she was crazy. He was sure that if he had gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep over the last couple of nights, he would have continued to yell. But, as it was, he was too exhausted. He collapsed down into his chair.
"I don't understand."
Ron scowled. "It was Malfoy," he spat.
"Malfoy?"
"Yeah, that ungrateful ferret must've pulled every string and called in every favor that he and his daddy had left from before the war. He filed the paperwork before Hermione got in today."
"And I immediately called in Ron for backup. I'm so sorry, Harry, I wasn't able to stop it. Neither was Kingsley."
Harry felt both sick and numb at the same time. "I don't even know what this is talking about – I didn't perform any magic in front of muggles. I wasn't aware that I had fallen so far from favor that the Wizengamot would consider removing me from my post for some trumped-up charges from Draco bloody Malfoy of all people."
"Harry…they aren't trumped up. He had solid, irrefutable evidence. Kingsley wouldn't have called for a full session of the Wizengamot without it."
That got his attention. "What'd you mean, not trumped up? Do you think that I was actually this careless? Not only to do magic in front of a muggle but to get caught in the act?"
Hermione and Ron shared a look. They could tell how exhausted Harry was, which was why he must have been acting so thick.
"Uh – is there any way that Malfoy saw you with Sam and Dean?" Ron asked.
Realization dawned on Harry's face. "That rat-faced bastard."
"Yeah. Didn't you say that he insisted on coming with you to meet them in Scotland?"
Harry nodded. "He did. I wasn't about to come up with a good enough excuse to stop him from coming. But I sent him off. I don't know how I missed that he didn't leave." He was cursing himself twenty different ways. He had been careless. He was so used to being able to casually do magic in front of his brothers in the States that he hadn't thoroughly warded or checked the area before helping them dig up the grave.
"It's good news that it's Sam and Dean then," Hermione said, suddenly much more chipper.
"Yeah, how'd you reckon?" Harry asked.
"Well…you didn't break the law, did you? Immediate family is allowed to know about magic and you, as a fully trained wizard, are allowed to do magic in front of them. And you were on British soil, so it isn't illegal for hunters to know about magic. Even if they are American."
Harry's face went gray. "No."
"No?" Hermione asked.
"No, we cannot tell the bloody Wizengamot that I have two muggle brothers. Do you know how quickly that news would make it into the tabloids? Do you know what kind of danger that would expose them to?"
"But Harry," Hermione started. He glared.
"There has to be another way."
"I'm sure there is," Ron said encouragingly.
"Ronald," Hermione chided. "The best defense is a simple one. There is nothing simpler than family. The charges would be dropped immediately."
Before either Ron or Hermione could respond to that, Harry's deputy, Auror Robinson, gently knocked and let himself in. He looked nervous.
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm being told that you need to leave the premises immediately. Orders came from on high."
Harry huffed. A mug went flying from his desk, into the wall, smashing to pieces. The Auror looked terrified.
"At ease, Robinson, I understand. I'm leaving right now."
"Oh, thank you, sir, I'm so sorry, sir."
Harry waved him off. "Don't worry about it. I know this isn't your fault."
Harry stood and walked out of his office. The corridor was crowded with Aurors and staff who had just been listening in on the conversation that Harry was having with the deputy, who all tried to look innocent as Harry walked out.
He rolled his eyes. "Nothing to see here, folks," he said. He continued to walk with his head held high. Honestly, maybe he'd just allow himself to be fired. If it happened from disgrace, then no one could talk him into retaking the job later. Hermione quickly trotted behind him. "We'll meet you at your house after work today to talk strategy. In the meantime, I've informed Percy, he'll be coming by around noon to go over the case with you."
"Fine, whatever," he said.
His apathy worried Hermione.
"Maybe get some sleep in the meantime?" She suggested. "Enjoy some time off?"
He nodded and headed out the door.
xXxXxXxXxXx
"I don't think you're taking these charges as seriously as you ought to," Percy said to his basically brother-in-law, who was currently fiddling with a teapot instead of doing what he should be doing – listening. Which infuriated Percy.
Harry shrugged. "It's not my first appearance in front of the Wizengamot, is it? And what's the worse that they're going to do to me?"
Percy leveled him with a very serious look. "If you're found guilty, which, you will be without presenting the information about your relation to the Winchesters, the lightest would be an official censure on your record and unpaid forced leave of office for at least a month. At the worst, you could get jail time and face permanent removal from office."
"For doing magic in front of some muggles? That seems a bit extreme," Harry said.
"It's not just that they are muggles. It is also because they are hunters. American hunters. There are very specific international laws about foreign interference with any country's hunters. Can you imagine if a MACUSA operative was found working with the Men of Letters without our knowledge or consent?"
"They wouldn't dare. But how do they even know that Sam and Dean are hunters?"
"That's right, they wouldn't date. Sam and Dean have been closely monitored by the Men of Letters so they are known in the British Intelligence Community and these charges name them specifically. You need to understand the severity. I have to ask you again – I know that you have the files relating to your adoption, Ron told me. We could submit the evidence, and, if need be, some blood evidence, to prove that you did magic in front of your family. It would still be frowned upon by the international community, but there are no specific British or International Laws that sanction a wizard for consorting with his muggle relatives – hunters or not."
"You know I can't do that, Percy."
Percy removed his glasses and pinched his nose. No one caused tension headaches quite like Harry did.
"Harry. Please, not only would this be personally damaging to yourself, it would be an international embarrassment to Great Britain. Even you may not be able to survive this kind of scandal unscathed."
"I can handle the scandal. What I can't handle is losing any more family. You've gotten so used to being around me that I don't think it even fazes you anymore. But do you know how many death threats there have been against your family specifically in the last year?"
"My family?" Percy asked, surprised. "You mean Audrey and the girls?"
"Yeah. Audrey and the girls. No less than five – not to mention two kidnapping plots that have been foiled. I don't say this to scare you, Percy, it is well under control, but in the last year, we have apprehended six different individuals with plots to kidnap the Weasley grandchildren. Rosie and Hugo get the most attention, as my godchildren, but there are some real psychos out there, who would happily try to get their hands on any member of our family just to get at me."
Percy sat down hard in a chair.
"And, here's the thing. It would work. I would gladly give myself up for your children. Money, influence, anything. You are my family in every way that counts. But I can protect you in a way that I cannot protect my brothers. Even if I'm not Head Auror, I have the resources and the contacts here to keep everyone safe. Of course, it is more than just their lives that would be in danger. The press would have a field day – they would no longer be able to do any of their work."
Percy still looked a little nauseated at the fact that his family had been in danger. Harry felt bad, but at the same time, Percy needed to understand the risks. The third-eldest Weasley took a couple of deep breaths and then pulled himself together, as the consummate professional that he was.
"Alright. I understand. What we need more than anything is time. Malfoy really pulled a fast one with this trial being scheduled just two days out. Do you have any clue what he's up to?"
"I honestly have no idea. While we have had our…altercations…throughout the years, this feels off for him. It was my testimony that kept his entire family out of Azkaban. I don't know why now, of all times, he is choosing to come after me."
"Hmmm," was all Percy could say. "Well, let's look over all of this one more time. We will have to come up with something…"
It was in the very early morning hours that the plan took complete shape. It had taken the collective brainpower of Percy and Hermione and then they had to cajole Harry into the plan. He would have preferred not to even have Kingsley know about his brothers, and there had been several hours of arguing before he saw reason. Which is how the three of them found themselves outside of the Minister's office at the very early hour.
The Minister looked at the three of them somewhat warily as he approached his office. "Harry, there was nothing I could do…"
"I know, don't worry, Kings," Harry said. "But we have a plan." Kingsley looked like he might object but before he could, Harry stopped him. "It won't compromise your position of neutrality." After the war, it was important for the office of the Minister to be completely unimpeachable in action to repair the corruption that had plagued the government right before and after the war.
Kingsley nodded, "Come on in."
xXxXxXxXxXx
"Resigned?" Dr. Hess asked with surprise. "He resigned rather than face the charges? Is he insane?"
Draco had been dreading sharing this news with the Headmistress. "I've thought so for years, yes. But the press certainly doesn't seem to think so," he drew out a Daily Prophet from his pocket. The headline read – Harry Potter, We're Not Worthy. "I have to hand it to his legal and publicity teams – he came out of this smelling like a rose. This whole article goes on and on about his dedication to transparency and his regrets for having broken the law. And how he cares so-damn much about the wizarding populace of Great Britain that he would rather resign than be a disgrace to them. They even managed to keep the official charges sealed – the public is in an outcry, thinking that the Ministry is trying to make an example of their savior."
Dr. Hess frowned. "Well, that won't do. This may have removed him from his position, but it does not remove him from power or influence."
Draco scoffed. "If anything, this has made him more popular than ever. And I doubt this will stick – Kingsley will find a way to get him back into his position within the next sixth months. From reading between the lines, this is going to give his legal team time to mount a defense and get the charges dropped altogether. And then he'll be untouchable."
"That simply won't do at all," she repeated. "This is not why we brought you in, Mr. Malfoy. These charges are relatively minor. They would have embarrassed him and the Ministry, but it was just the tiny first step of many to permanently remove him from power. Why is he falling on his sword over this charge?" She thought for a moment. Surely Potter didn't have any way of knowing what the ultimate plan was for this case. Mr. Malfoy didn't even know. There had to be something else. "You said that he was friendly with the Winchesters?"
"He was. He certainly knew them beyond just a casual meeting in a bar. The man they called on the phone – Bobby, seemed to be the reason the hunters were in Scotland at all."
"Hmm. That would have to be Bobby Singer, a father-figure of sorts to the Winchesters. That suggests far more than a casual acquaintance. Is he trying, somehow, to protect them? Why?"
The questions seemed to be rhetorical, so Draco didn't respond.
"I'm afraid that we're going to have to lengthen the term of our arrangement, Mr. Malfoy."
He looked up angrily. "I've fulfilled all the terms. I don't know what more I could do. I used every last political favor my family had. I have nothing left to offer you."
"You still have your resourcefulness," the headmistress responded. "And you have fulfilled all of the terms when I say you have. Don't forget what information we have on your father and how damaging that would be to your entire family."
Draco flushed with anger, but he knew he had no choice. "Fine. What would you have me do?"
"We're going to need you to speak with a contact of ours – he rarely leaves the States. If anyone knows about the connection between Harry Potter and the Winchesters, it would be him." She took out a blank piece of paper, wrote down a name, and then slid the paper over to Malfoy.
He picked it up. 'Crowley – King of Hell,' is what it read. He swallowed. Looked like he was going to have to take an extended trip out of the country. "I'll pack my bags."
"Perfect. As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Malfoy."
He didn't respond, but stood and left the room.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Dean glared at Crowley from across the table. He felt sick that they had been doing "work" for him for a while now without knowing it. And now this son-of-a-bitch at the audacity to send them on a job? "I've done some shady stuff in my time," he growled at the demon, "but I am not doing this. No."
"Ten quid says you will," the asshole responded. He touched the back of Sam's hand and Dean watched in horror as his brother's hand started turning red and sizzling, making him gasp in pain.
"You like pain, Sam? You like Hell?" The burn kept going, but Crowley turned to Dean. "You need to stop thinking of this as some kind of deal. This is a hostage situation, you arrogant little thug. I own your brother! Do you understand me?" He snapped his fingers and the burn went away. Dean was pretty sure that everything he was feeling was on his face, because next Crowley said, "Come on Dean, smile. It's not that bad. Here's incentive – you bag me a live alpha, and I'll give you little Sammy's soul back, with a cherry on top."
"What alpha vamp not good enough for you?" Sam sneered.
"Best mind where you poke your nose if you want to keep it. Your merry little hike up the food chain starts here." Crowley showed them a newspaper article that appeared to be leading them in the direction of the alpha werewolf. "So, it's settled then. You bag the howler, bring it home to papa. Oh, and one more thing," he said as he got up. "That wizard of yours isn't part of this deal. I get one whiff of his involvement, deal's off. See you soon, boys." He disappeared.
As soon as the brothers got into the Impala, instead of starting the car, Dean pulled out his cell
"Dude, what are you doing?" Sam asked.
"I'm calling Harry," he said, scrolling. Sam grabbed the phone out of his hands.
"Don't! You heard Crowley back there."
"Yeah, I did. Whatever else he is, Crowley is smart. Maybe there is something Harry knows that can help us out."
"Duh, that's exactly why Crowley doesn't want him involved. Are you willing to risk my soul to call in someone who may or may not be able to help us?"
They argued about it as they drove. In the end, they agreed. They would call in Harry but only ask about Sam's soul. No mention of purgatory. That should have no bearing on if the wizard could help or not. Dean wasn't thrilled – he would prefer to be completely upfront, but he saw Sam's point. Once they got to the motel, Dean picked up his phone. 'Here goes nothing,' he thought.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Having freshly resigned his post and awake at a time of day that saw all his friends and family in a deep sleep, Harry took up a strange muggle pastime he noticed had become more and more prevalent. He stared at his phone. He had to admit that they had advanced quite a bit from the one Sirius had given him as a teenager. This one had Internet access. But that feature was useless to him in his magical house that certainly did not have wifi.
The phone also had a full keyboard. It was too bad that he never learned to type on one – not really. It wasn't covered by the primary school in Little Whinging, not that that would have gone well for Harry, even as a child, it was very likely that his magic would have fried any computer that they had sat him in front of. It puzzled him that the keys weren't in alphabetical order.
He was planning on listening to some more ringtones to pick out the one he wanted most (something that had annoyed Ginny to no end the day before) when the phone rang. It took him a couple of seconds to register what was happening and another couple to fumble to the answer button. The keys were so small!
"Hello?" he said with uncertainty.
"Harry – good, you answered." It was Dean.
"You're the first person to call me!" Harry said, with some excitement. It wasn't the first phone call the phone had received, however. Ginny had spent the evening before speaking with Lisa on "speaker" so that she didn't have to hold the phone trying to talk her friend through her breakup with Dean. She liked that, unlike with the landline in the house, she could shut herself in the study so that Harry couldn't hear the conversation. As if he wanted to.
"Fantastic. You know you don't have to shout, right?"
Harry frowned. "I know. I'm not an idiot."
"I think that's up for debate. But that's neither here nor there. Could you come by sometime in the next couple of days? Sam and I have found ourselves in a…situation."
"Are you alright?" Harry, asked, worried.
A dry laugh from his older brother. "Physically fine, but there is something you oughta know. I think it would be better to tell you in person."
"I can be there in a couple of hours."
There was a slight hesitation on the other side of the phone. "You sure?"
"Yes. Just let me tell a few people – to avoid the comedy of errors that was last summer."
Dean actually did laugh at that. "Yeah, good. Uh – I don't want to say it on the phone, but for reasons, maybe keep a low profile. Make sure you're not followed or seen?"
Harry assumed that Dean was just being paranoid, but that wasn't a problem for him. "Sure."
"Great. I'm going to get some shut-eye, see you in the morning."
"See you soon."
xXxXxXxXxXx
At promptly 8 a.m. there was a sharp knock on the motel room door. Harry was surprised to see Sam answer the door, already fully dressed in a suit. He raised his eyebrow at his older brother and the bright pink box he was holding.
"You making doughnut deliveries now, Harry?"
It was a pretty nice greeting, as far as Sam to Harry went. But it made the wizard feel a little embarrassed.
"Er – I just know that Dean likes the bacon maple bars from this place. I got a couple of different ones for you, wasn't sure what you liked. Had to confound a couple of the bakers, because I got there before opening, but I figured…" he trailed off, realizing that he was rambling.
Sam stepped back to allow him into the room. "You went all the way to Oregon to get doughnuts for Dean?" He asked as he recognized the logo on the box.
Harry blushed. "It's not a big deal. He and Ben used to send me on all sorts of trips to pick up food from his favorite places around the country."
Dean was lying on a bed, looking asleep, until he heard Harry's voice. He turned over. "Did I hear you say maple bacon?"
"Yeah. Half a dozen. Brought some coffee too, figured you wouldn't have gotten around to that yet."
"From that place in Seattle?"
"Yeah. Had to go to the island location though, it was the only one open."
Dean got out of the bed quicker than Sam had ever seen, without a monster on his ass, at least.
He had already stuffed his face with one doughnut and had eaten a second before he noticed the completely made second bed.
"You didn't sleep," he said to Sam. "'Cause you don't sleep."
"Right," Sam responded.
"Am I the only damn Winchester that still needs to sleep?" Dean asked, rhetorically.
Harry looked between his two brothers. "Sam doesn't sleep? Also, I need sleep. I'm just…bad at it."
Dean snorted. "You gonna eat one of these?" he asked Sam, Harry already had his favorite in a napkin. Sam shook his head. Dean shrugged. "Your loss," he proceeded to take more doughnuts.
Harry made himself comfortable on the couch. "So, what is this news that you have to tell me?"
Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"Did anyone see you arrive?" Dean asked, instead of answering the question.
"Don't think so. I wore my invisibility cloak until I disillusioned the entrance of this room. I've also thrown up a couple of privacy wards for good measure."
"Good, good. Well, you know how I was saying that there was something…off about Sam before?"
Harry's eyes got big, it seemed like the sort of thing that Dean wouldn't want to talk about in front of Sam. "Yeah…"
"Turns out, I was right. When Crowley sprung him from the cage, he didn't get all of him."
Harry looked Sam up and down. Nothing looked off.
"He didn't get Sam's soul."
"Sam's soul is still in the cage? Wait, and it was Crowley that got him out?" Harry asked.
"He's the one who brought Samuel back too. And now he wants us to work for him to get Sam's soul back."
"No," Harry responded.
"Threatened to toss Sam back into the cage if we didn't."
"I mean, no, I won't allow it. You can't work for Crowley. We'll find another way. I found my schedule…unexpectedly clear for the foreseeable future. There has to be something else. Have you talked to Bobby?"
"Look, Harry, we don't like it any more than you do," Sam started, annoyed that Harry thought that he had any say in the matter, "but we gotta do what we gotta do."
Harry turned to Dean. "You're taking the piss, right? Why would you work for Crowley, and how does he suddenly have the power to open and close the cage? Seems convenient, doesn't it? He didn't offer to open up the cage to get Lucifer back in it. I'm assuming because he didn't have the power to."
"He was only King of the Crossroads then," Dean explained. "Now he's the King of Hell."
Harry didn't look impressed. Something occurred to him though. "If Sam doesn't have a soul how is he upright? Are you sure that his soul is really missing?"
"Oh, it's missing alright," Dean responded. "Cas confirmed it and he's acting like a sociopath."
"Hey!"
Harry still looked unconvinced. "I've seen people who have had their souls ripped out – they are drooling messes. But maybe it's because they got eaten. Sam's soul still exists?"
"Of course, it does – we just went over this, it's in the cage, with Lucifer. I was hoping, well, I was hoping that you might have some sort of magical solution."
Harry just kind of gaped at his brothers.
"Look, can you help us or not?" Sam asked, irritated.
"Er – I don't know. What do you think I can do? Soul magic is extremely dark magic. So dark, in fact, that it is technically not illegal in most places because most wizards don't have that kind of power and also because they don't want to give anyone any ideas. It is taboo in polite company. In most company, really."
"We thought there might be…I dunno, some kind of magic that could get it out of hell," Dean said, realizing how stupid that sounded. Maybe Sam had been right all along.
Harry frowned. "As far as I know, no wizard has ever been to Hell. Wizards are, well, to be honest, we're lazy. New ideas are not looked at favorably. In Britain, we broke away from muggle culture in the middle ages, due to witch hunts. For the most part, we haven't stayed caught up to any technological advances past the Industrial Revolution, and even then, it's limited. It drives Hermione crazy. She's always creating new spells…" a thought came to him. "Oh! It makes sense now, why I wasn't able to use my locator spell to find Sam. It's based on knowing someone's soul, so if someone doesn't have one…"
"You can't find them."
"Not with that spell at least."
There were a couple of beats of silence.
"Wait – wizards don't go to hell?" Dean asked, just processing that piece of information. "Where do they go then?"
"I'm not sure. Every time I've died, that I remember at least, I end up in a train station." Harry shrugged but looked down – which Dean knew was one of his tells that he wasn't being entirely truthful.
"None of this matters!" Sam exclaimed. "Can you get my soul back or not?"
"Dude," Dean said.
Harry was a bit taken aback. "Can I get into the Cage, located in Hell, open it, get your soul out, but keep Lucifer in, bring it back topside, and get back into your body? Is that seriously what you're asking me right now?"
"You could've just said no," Sam grumped.
"Yeah, how dare you make us look like total and complete morons," Dean said sarcastically.
"You're not morons. But this is part of the reason that the wizarding world sequesters itself away – muggles think that magic can just fix everything. But in reality, modern muggle technology can do most of what magic can, just in different ways. Muggles are far more creative and capable of thinking outside the box. While most of us can't even hold a mobile or use a computer."
"But you're not a regular wizard," Sam pointed out.
Harry sighed. "I suppose that's true. As much as I've fought the idea, I simply can't anymore. Gabriel told me what's going on with my magic when he visited me not that long ago."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "And what is it?"
It was hard enough for Harry to admit it to himself, much less to his brothers. But he supposed that he was going to have to face the truth eventually. "Whatever happened in the graveyard, using that weapon, took me to the next level of what he calls 'ascension.' He told me that no one has ever gotten to this step before, in fact when…" Harry couldn't get the words out, of course, "he said whoever gave me that weapon thought it would kill me. But that doesn't matter, he told me that my magic is now like that of my ancestors, the first generation of angels that fell. It's why I can use technology and why my spell work is so out of control."
That was a lot of information to take in. "Someone tried to kill you for trying to help us? Who?"
Of course, that is what his older brother got out of what he had just said. "I can't say. Literally. Still bound by that secrecy oath that I was too stupid to realize I was taking."
"Well, this has been a gigantic waste of time," Sam said, unkindly. Dean gave him a look but didn't bother to chide him again, it obviously had no effect. "I've got a lead on this case, Dean, we may as well get back to it."
"Cool it, Robocop. Thanks for coming all the way from England to try and help us, Harry," Dean said pointedly. "Just one more thing, Crowley ordered us not to involve you, which is why I asked you to be sure that you weren't seen. He said he wouldn't give Sam his soul back if we involved you."
Harry sucked in a breath. It was a great risk for him to be here. "Understood. Good thing is that I have my ways of avoiding him. I'll start in on some research. I may not have a way to get to the Cage, but I can at least ask around." He gave Sam the side-eye. "Hey, Sam, could you give Dean and me a minute or two? Then I'll get out of your hair, promise."
Sam gave him his patented bitch face. "Sure. I'll go wait in the car. Don't be long." He left the room.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief when his younger brother left the room. He turned to Dean. "How are you, really?"
The move was so Sam – well, Sam with a soul, that it made Dean chuckle a little. Harry even had the puppy-dog eyes. "Working with him is hard, he looks like Sam, he sounds like Sam, but he isn't, not really. I feel like a babysitter, I have to constantly make sure that he's not going to kill an innocent bystander who breathes wrong."
Harry gave him a look. "While he does give me the creeps, that's not what I'm asking about. I know about you and Lisa."
"Oh. That."
"Yeah. She and Ginny have been talking on the phone for hours at a time. It sounds like it was bad. How are you holding up?"
Dean ran a hand through his hair. "I'm fine."
"Uh-huh, I believe you," Harry deadpanned.
"Look, I'm not going to spill like a girl. It sucks. But I'm dealing."
"Sure, you are. But you have my number if you need to talk. About anything."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if I need a shoulder to cry on, you'll the first person to know."
Harry ignored his sarcasm. "Good." He left. Dean took a deep breath – time to get back to the case.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Harry was once again staring at his muggle mobile. He didn't want to make this call. He really didn't want to make this call. But seeing Sam in his current state – and thinking back to the time that they had been together since he had come back from Hell, made it evident that his younger brother couldn't stay this way. If only for Dean's sanity. He sighed and selected the name from the list. It rang.
"Yello?" Came the annoyingly cheerful voice on the other end.
"Yeah. I'm ready to…talk now."
"That's excellent news!" The voice didn't come from the phone, but rather from right behind the sofa he was sitting on in his New York flat. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to face Gabriel. "Honestly, I was wondering if you were ever going to man up. You've been thinking of calling me for hours. It was exhausting."
"If you could hear me, then why didn't you just fly over here?" Harry asked, annoyed.
"Just respecting your space, slugger."
Harry scoffed. Respectful is never a word that he would use to describe the archangel. "You know about Sam?"
"The soulless wonder? Yeah, I've heard it through the grapevine. But I hope that's not why you called me here."
Harry didn't say anything.
Gabriel tossed his hands up in the air. "I told you already, the Winchesters have their own angel to complain to, let them bother him."
"He confirmed that Sam didn't have a soul. I'm assuming if he could do something about it, he would."
"Of course, Dean already asked Mom, so they sent you to ask Dad. Kids these days."
"Can you help?"
"Uh – I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. And this is not why I gave you my number, I'm not interested in being the Winchester's butt buddy. So, I'll just…"
"Wait," Harry said. "That wasn't the only reason I called."
"Oh? I'm listening."
"This…situation…with my magic. It's not getting better."
"I wouldn't expect it to, no."
"I'm barely sleeping. It's not just that I don't need as much as I did, but I'm terrified to lose control. It takes almost all of my concentration, all day, every day, not to…" That's at least what Harry told himself about not sleeping, there was so much more to it than that.
"Not to what?"
"Not to explode. I don't want to hurt anyone, but sometimes, my emotions…" Honestly, Harry was too tired to give words to exactly what was happening to him. When he was living mostly as a muggle over the summer, it hadn't been so bad. But when he had to use magic all the time, he had to very vigilant about the amount of power he was putting behind every spell. Some low-level spells didn't even work for him anymore and he found himself relying more and more on wandless magic. All the same, the magic seemed to be building under his skin, dying to come out. "The best I've felt is when I killed the alpha shapeshifter. My AK didn't work, but I shot something at him…" Harry could practically feel a panic attack coming on.
Gabriel looked at him with sympathy, but only because Harry wasn't looking at him at that moment. This brought him back. "You have to stop pretending that you are just a regular wizard."
"I know."
"…you have to say it, Harry."
Harry looked up. Gabriel really was a dick. "I want you to help me."
"Help you…" the archangel prompted.
"Help me control my magic," Harry ground out.
"Alright, don't hurt yourself, big boy. I told you that I would. But first, let's get someplace less populated."
Gabriel put a hand on Harry's shoulder and the two of them left Harry's flat and appeared someplace in the wilderness.
"Where are we?" Harry asked, looking around. They were in a clearing, but there were trees around them and he didn't recognize the terrain.
"Mount Olympus, of course."
Harry scoffed, unimpressed by the lack of originality. "Of course."
"No better place. This area is protected by the Greek magical government– it's a national park, but no one will bother us here. Now have a seat, class is in session."
Out of nowhere, a traditional ancient Greek amphitheater appeared where they were standing.
"The first problem, as I told you before, is the tool that you are using," Harry's wand appeared in Gabriel's hand.
"Hey!"
"This is a good wand, powerful, by modern terms. But I can feel the number of times you've had to repair it in the last year. Poor thing won't be able to take much more. Now this one," the Elder wand was in Gabriel's other hand. It took all that Harry had to not try to snatch it away from him. "This is a proper weapon. But still not worthy of a wizard of your power."
Gabriel took both wands in one hand and conjured a bronze blade. Harry recognized it as an angel blade. But…different somehow.
"I made this just for you," Gabriel continued to explain. He brought the wands and the blade together and the blade…absorbed the wands. He did a fancy twist and offered the handle to Harry. Harry took it.
It was unlike anything the wizard had ever felt before. Pure joy. It was like a hug filled with love, acceptance, and belonging. It was everything he had ever missed out on in his childhood. It was the nights of sleep he had been missing for over a year. He grinned broadly, thinking through all of his happiest memories when a stag burst forth from the blade as if it were a wand. Prongs was more corporeal than Harry had ever seen him and he practically pranced around the clearing they were in before giving a bow and disappearing.
"Woah," was all Harry was able to get out.
"Woah indeed," Gabriel said. Even he hadn't been expecting that. "I take it that was the incomparable Mr. Prongs?"
"Yeah," Harry continued to stare at the blade. "Why…"
"Why does it feel so right?" Gabriel completed for him. "Because I'm a genius, that's why. Magic as angels perform it was never going to feel right to you. You're not an angel, something that took my garrison ages to accept. Your magic can sometimes look like ours, but it is different because it is embedded into your soul, not grace that is linked the Heavenly host."
For the first time, Harry felt ready to accept that. He was very relieved that he wasn't an angel.
It was like Gabriel was reading his mind, "At the same time, neither are you a regular wizard. Naturally, you want a conduit for your magic. That's how you learned, after all, but even the magical core of the Elder Wand can only channel so much. Which is how I came up with this brilliant solution. Look at the blade carefully."
Harry did. Etched into the sides of the hilt there were images – so subtle that he could barely see them. One side had a phoenix feather, representing his original wand, another the outline of the Elder wand. Hieroglyphics were on the third side, he didn't know what they said, and what he recognized as Enochian, but could not read, was on the final side.
"It is tailored uniquely to you. No one else will be able to hold it – except me, of course. It will be like a wand bite. Times a thousand. But, of course, the cleverest part of it all is at the very top." He looked at the sharp tip of the blade. It didn't seem unique in any way. "It's a blade, of course! If you're rolling with the Winchesters, things are going to get stabby from time to time. And I don't mean in the sexy way. I haven't tested it out, but this should send a demon straight back to hell with a single jab."
"And what about angels?"
"Are you planning the murder of my brothers and sisters?" Gabriel asked, in far too light a tone.
"Only if they try to murder me first."
"I suppose that is acceptable. It won't kill an archangel – so don't go getting any grand ideas about Raphael or myself, but it will incapacitate any of the orders lower than us. I'd prefer if you didn't, though, don't want the wrong people asking the right questions."
Harry nodded in agreement. He still couldn't believe how happy he felt, how right, and complete.
"Now, how about I show you how to put that bad boy to use?" Gabriel asked.
Without missing a beat, Harry responded, "Sorry, Gabriel I'm taken."
Gabriel laughed. "My heart will forever be broken. Now, let's see what you've got."
Harry grinned and brandished the sword like it was a very long wand. He was ready.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Draco was about at his wit's end. And he was beginning to believe that Potter only did have a passing acquaintance with these American hunters. He had been on Winchester detail for months. He had learned a lot about the brothers themselves, which he supposed was the one upside. Joanne seemed pleased with any detailed information on them. The younger one was without a soul. The elder was quite upset about this. Oh, and the two of them were currently working for the demon, Crowley. They hadn't had a face-to-face meeting with the man, which would have been useful to Draco. Neither of the brothers was particularly happy about the situation either. (Even though he had been told to make contact with the demon, that felt like a trap, as it was highly illegal for a wizard to summon a demon. He wasn't going to get caught red-handed.)
He didn't have much experience with demons himself, of course. They were all but eradicated in the UK and when he had traveled outside of Britain, they had never bothered him. The Men of Letters had assured him that this was not normal behavior on the part of any hunters, not even these uncivilized American ones. At the same time, since he had been tracking these two, he had gotten exactly one hint at Potter's presence, and he was beginning to think that was a fluke.
Of course, he wasn't with the brothers 24/7. The Men of Letters, oh so graciously, allowed him to spend weekends with his family in Britain. How they were able to convince Finch-Fletchley to let him spend this time away from the "office," was beyond him. If Potter were still in charge of the Auror department, he was pretty sure that this would have been flagged months ago.
That was the other strange thing. Potter was rarely in the UK. The team that was monitoring his movements said that the Man-Who-Conquered spent Friday through Sunday in Britain with the Weasleys, as well as holidays when Hogwarts wasn't in session, but other than that it was a complete mystery as to where the man was. It certainly wasn't the United States with these particular hunters, Draco knew that for a fact.
The case, as the brothers referred to these little misadventures they went on, was the most asinine that Draco had seen yet. He was beginning to think that allowing his father to go to Azkaban may not be the worst outcome. These mad muggles were interviewing other muggles about extra-terrestrials. This week it seemed that they were pretending to be members of the press instead of fake FBI agents. Draco knew immediately that the disappearances in this town were caused by leprechauns. He was kind of amazed that MACUSA hadn't stepped in, on anything at all involving these two hunters. It was his best guess that the Americans just had too much ground to cover and couldn't be sensible about their hunters in the way that that British were.
Draco was about to leave the States for his weekend back home when the perfect opportunity finally presented itself. He had been told not to approach the brothers unless strictly necessary, but he didn't think he could take another week of this banality. The older brother was arrested by the muggle police for attacking a man on the street and ranting loudly. That meant that he would soon be in a cell, sans weapons, and unable to communicate with others. It was the perfect situation for Draco to try and get some information straight from the source. He strode into the police station.
Dean was sitting in the cell, very stressed out. He felt like he was going crazy. First, he had been abducted by freakin' fairies. His sociopath of a brother had, instead of looking for him, spent the time that he was gone banging some hippy chick. And to top it all off, he had been followed by one of them. Just not the one that he had jumped in the middle of a public street. Hence, his current predicament. He heard footsteps come near his cell and he was ready for another run-in with the police chief that had arrested him. Or maybe Sam had come to get him out. But, to his great surprise, it was neither.
"Mr. Winchester. It's a pleasure to see you again. I am not sure if you remember me, we met briefly a couple of months ago in a cemetery in Scotland. My name is Draco Malfoy and I work with Scotland Yard."
The hair on the back of Dean's neck stood up straight. He knew exactly who this man was and what he was. And that certainly wasn't an officer of the law in Great Britain.
His heart beating fast, as he didn't currently have a gun or phone, he responded in as neutral a voice as possible. "Yeah. I remember you. What are you doing here?"
"Potter sent me to get you out."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Did he now? Why would he do that? Last I checked, random Scotland Yard officers didn't send their men across the pond to rescue American hunters from assault charges."
"You know as well as I do that Potter is not a random officer of Scotland Yard." Malfoy decided to take a calculated risk. "The Head Auror of Great Britain sent me, a lowly employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to fetch his friend out of an American jail. I don't question orders, I take them. Now, if you would follow me," he magically opened the cell door.
Dean knew that never in a million years would Harry send Draco Malfoy of all people to come and get him. He also knew that his brother wasn't keeping this close of tabs on him. It had been a long while since Harry had last come to visit. No one wanted Crowley to get suspicious. Weeks had passed since Harry had even bothered to call or text. Dean didn't know why this man wanted to take him out of this jail, but he knew it couldn't be for any good reason.
He leaned back on the bench he was sitting on. "I'm good, thanks. No assistance needed."
"You don't deny it then?" The Slytherin asked.
"Don't deny what exactly?"
"Potter is your friend."
Dean shrugged. "I barely know the guy."
"Is that so?"
"That's what I said, yeah." Dean gave him a smirk that, if the situation hadn't been what it was, Draco would have almost been impressed by.
"Very well. Thank you for your time, Mr. Winchester. Good luck with that leprechaun." He turned, closed the cell door, and walked away.
That took a second to sink in for Dean. He turned to his left – and there was the redcap that had been following him earlier. What he now knew to be a leprechaun grinned.
"Fuck," was all Dean said.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Draco had discovered early on that tracking charms didn't work on the monstrosity of a vehicle that the Winchesters insisted on driving all over this Merlin-forsaken country. It had been one of the first clues that the wizard had gotten that there was more to these brothers than what appeared. It took some pretty powerful magic to cloak something so large and that moved so often – Potter-level magic. But Draco wasn't so easily defeated. He had noticed that the brothers kept a cool box with them at almost all times. It had taken a slight distraction, but he had been able to slip a tracker into it, which made following these Americans around much easier.
Especially when they decided to park their car in the middle of nowhere for a break. Draco was sure to apparate into an area far enough away that the Winchesters couldn't hear the crack and then disillusioned himself. Sure enough, there they were, leaning against the car, Dean sipping on a beer from the very cool box that Draco had cleverly tracked.
"You think Lucky Charms really could have, you know, soul to sender?" Elder Winchester asked Giant Winchester.
"Come on. It's crazy to think. He did talk a good game though."
"You said no. Why?"
Draco scoffed. 'Because he doesn't want it back, you berk,' he thought.
"It was a deal. When's a deal ever been a good thing?"
"Dude, I do still have all my brain cells. If anything, my brain works better now." Draco doubted that very much.
"Just making sure that's where your head's at. That you're not having second thoughts about getting your soul back."
"Oh."
"You're not, are you?"
"No."
Action Man Winchester didn't respond to that directly. "I should probably call Harry," he said, pulling out his mobile.
Everest Winchester sneered. "Why? He's not answered you in weeks. Maybe he's given up on us."
That comment was ignored and Draco heard the phone ringing. It rang a lot. Until, finally, Potter's voice came through on the other end. It sounded annoyed. "Dean, don't leave me a message, I don't know how to check the bloody things. If you need me, use the fucking mirror." There was a beep.
"Harry, where the hell are you man? You haven't answered in weeks. I had a run-in with that dude that was with you in Scotland. You know, ferret mcferret face? He claimed that you sent him to get me out of jail. I know that was utter bullcrap. Call me back – what's the point of you having a cell if you never fucking answer it?" He hung up.
Draco couldn't help it, he felt himself flush a bit at Witless Winchester's mention of the incident from his and Potter's fourth year. How dare Potter tell that story!
The phone started ringing again.
"Who are you calling now?"
"Bobby, sometimes Harry checks in with him."
"Yeah?" Came a crabby voice from the other end of the mobile.
"Bobby. Have you heard from Harry recently?"
"What did you lose him again?"
"I didn't lose him. He's just not answering his phone."
"Uh huh. And have you tried the magic mirror?"
Wanker Winchester groaned. "Come on, Bobby. Have you heard from him or not?"
"I haven't. Use the tools you got. Or, you know, try and keep both your brothers in the same place for once? Idjit." The line went dead.
"He has a point, you know," Cabbage-hair Winchester said.
"What?"
"Dad always said that if you always left things in the same spot, you'd always know where to find them later."
"Yeah, well the problem with having brats for brothers like you and Harry is that neither of you will fucking listen to me."
Skyscraper Winchester chuckled. But Draco didn't notice – his blood running cold. Brothers. Both the man on the phone and the Wanker had said it. That was…that was impossible. Potter was an only child, the whole world knew it. And there was no way that those two were the children of Lily and James Potter. The younger one had been born years after they had died. Was Potter adopted? This was bigger than anything Draco had been expecting to uncover. Possibly too big to take back to the Men of Letters. His thoughts were racing. He had some research to do. And, after that, he was going to have to figure out how best to use this knowledge to his advantage.
AN – I've finally decided exactly what Harry as a Winchester looks like. If you are on the Supernatural Wiki (where I spend an embarrassing amount of time) and you look up Jeffery Dean Morgan that picture is PERFECT. Just imagine a lightning bold scar, some round, gold glasses, clean-shaven, slightly darker hair and greener eyes and we've got our Harry. I don't have the (or any) photoshop skills to bring this image to life for you, but use your imagination, and there you have it.
Enough people thought this title was funny, so I kept it. The British Men of Letters are certainly not done with their scheming, but I really liked the idea that they had this very complicated, multi-step plan to remove Harry from interfering with them any further, just to have him go, "fuck it, I wanted to quit this job anyway." It wasn't a very calculated move on his part, but he's a Gryffindor for a reason.
I am very sick of angry and then soulless Sam. I want nice Sammy back, so I'm sure all of you do as well. He will be back soon, I promise. I'm going to be moving through the rest of the soulless episodes fairly quickly.
Special points in my heart to anyone who knows where Harry got the pink box of doughnuts in Oregon from. They actually as one as a prop later in the season, so I figure Dean is a fan. Also, Harry got the coffee from my hometown – a small coffee house called Pegasus. (I don't actually like coffee, but I have been reliably informed that theirs is good and I used to take writing lessons there in high school.)
As always, y'all are wonderful. Thank you so much for the lovely comments/reviews. The next chapter is called Millie. I'm super excited about it – to tease a little more, just try to imagine the woman who raised John Winchester. See you next Friday!