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Love, Fate and Prophecy: Bloodright
Part Four: Chapter Nine – Soul Meets Body
Previously
"No. I left the wand in what should have been its final resting place. I dropped the stone in the woods. I only kept what my father passed down to me. I don't want to be Master of Death."
"And that, my dear boy, is why you are," Death said. "And I would have been happy to allow you your plan, with your journey ending with Horcruxes, not Hallows. But you made a choice. The same choice, many times. Gabriel tried to talk you out of it. But you chose your brothers, and, as such, your life is transformed. Hallows, not Horcruxes. Supernatural instead of magical."
"I see you're not convinced, so I will give you the choice one last time. Dean," he turned to the elder Winchester. "I told you there are conditions to my giving you this ring. The first is that Harry takes these Hallows and accepts his role as Master of Death."
"That's not a choice at all!" Harry protested.
"It is. Just because you don't like it doesn't change the fact. You could walk away right now, with just your cloak. Do not involve yourself in this apocalypse, leave your brothers to handle Lucifer and Michael themselves. Return to the UK and these hallows will return to where you left them. Or take them, and accept your new fate."
Harry sighed. "Fine. I chose my brothers."
xXxXxXxXxXx
He took the ring and slipped it on his finger.
It didn't take long. "Ah, Harry, how lovely to see you."
"Death," Harry responded, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
"You've been avoiding me."
"Isn't that what the Master of Death does best?"
Death chuckled. "I suppose. But I'm hurt that it took such extreme lengths to get you to agree to speak with me."
"Blackmailing one of my brothers and holding the other one hostage is a bit more than extreme," Harry said bitterly.
"That's not quite accurate, but, of course, I understand that you are upset. I have respected your boundaries up and to this point, I have not forced you to speak with me when we both know I could have. But there is a greater game afoot and Death waits for no man, not even you."
"Greater game?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance.
"The greatest game of all. You know that already, of course, you've been spending enough time with that archangel to understand what is happening in Heaven."
"Gabriel's been helping me."
"Oh, has he? Helping you what, exactly?"
"To understand what happened my magic. To understand how to use it now that I'm…whatever I am now."
Death frowned. "You are not a whatever, you are a whomever. You should not be questioning your personhood."
"Shouldn't I?"
"No," Death said empathetically. "This was part of the reason I wanted to speak with you in the first place. Don't let those angels put ideas in your head. First and foremost, you are human. Your connection to magic has become stronger but it has not taken away your innate humanity."
"But I can't die."
"You most certainly can! And you will. All creatures die and humans sooner than most. If you wanted to 'go beyond,' right now, I would take you there. It would be with great sadness, but it is the natural order. You do not exist outside of that order; you are a part of it. Your brothers, on the other hand…"
"What about my brothers?"
"They are an affront to the balance of the universe, and they disrupt a global scale. Moreover, they disrupt a much smaller scale too. Look at what they've done to you."
"They haven't done anything to me."
"No? They haven't turned you into a barely-functioning, unemployed, alcoholic?"
Harry had to laugh a little at that one. "To be fair, I was two of those three things before I came back into their lives. But I chose this. You know that better than anyone else. I chose them."
"You did. And you haven't regretted that choice?"
"Not once."
"I'm glad to hear that, my friend. And while they are a perversion to the natural order, Sam and Dean have their uses."
Harry gave him the side-eye. Death finding his brothers useful was concerning more than comforting. "And what are those?"
"Dean is digging at something. An intrepid detective. I want him to keep digging, and I want you to help him."
"You weren't kidding when you said that you were Dumbledore that time were you?" Harry asked rhetorically.
Death smiled. "It's about the souls."
"The ones in wizard hell?"
"That is a word for purgatory that I haven't heard before."
"Purgatory."
"Yes, that's what I said. Also, your archangel. While I don't approve of his methods, I do approve of the plans the two of you have made. The veil must be protected – I am pleased that I don't have to request that of you, you are already taking the right steps. Now, you and Dean, have fulfilled your parts of the bargain. I believe it is time for me to perform mine."
Harry stared at him slack-jawed. "That's it?"
"Yes. What were you expecting?"
"You don't want to, I don't know, train me as your apprentice or prepare me to ascend to be your angel? No tasks for me to do? I don't need to give you a show of worthiness?"
Death laughed. "Of course not. I don't need an apprentice and if you don't want to ascend, I don't want that for you either. I know you don't believe this yet, but I am your friend, Harry. And you don't need to prove yourself to me, you already have, a million times over. If you would like to do me a favor though, take better care of yourself. Eat three meals a day. Sleep for a full night."
"You want me to…sleep?" Harry was super confused.
"Yes. And, perhaps, indulge an old man for a conversation every once and awhile. I, just like anyone else, get lonely, and you are a lovely conversationalist."
"Ok. And Sam…he'll be alright?"
"Better than he would be without you. The occlumency you taught him will make the wall far more resilient. But let's call it 80%."
Death vanished.
Harry stared at the door for a couple of minutes before letting out a huge sigh of relief. He felt silly for being so stubborn before. He stood up. Time to get Dean and head back to the States and Sam.
xXxXxXxXxXx
"Mémére, what are you doing?" Sonia asked her pseudo-grandmother, who was currently frowning at a piece of parchment sitting in front of her.
"I'm writing a letter."
"A letter?"
"Yes."
"You know, a quill tends to help with such things," the young woman teased.
Millie waved her off, distracted. "I know how to write it. I'm not sure what I'm going to write. Or how to even get a letter to this person."
"You can't just send one of the owls?"
"I don't think so, not this time. I can't imagine that just any owl can find him."
"Find who, Mémére?"
Millie declined to answer.
xXxXxXxXxXx
"…what did he say?" Dean asked as soon as he saw Harry. He had been sitting on a bench in the hallway, just outside the room.
"He wants us to keep digging."
"What?"
"He said that you're on to something – that's why he's willing to help Sam."
Dean just stared at his little brother. "I'm onto something."
"That's what he said. And something about souls being super important."
"Huh."
"Yeah, helpful, I know. I don't know what it is with me and old men, but they love to speak in half-truths and riddles. But I figure we should probably get back to Sam."
"Hold on a second. Sam's with Bobby – I think you can spend a couple of minutes telling me what the hell went on in there. That conversation could not have lasted more than ten minutes. That's all Death wanted? He didn't want to, I don't know, take you to some sort of secret lair and force you to prove yourself? You don't owe him a favor? What is the price of him helping Sam?"
"Apparently, just the conversation that we just had. I asked him – he said he didn't want any of those sorts of things."
"No, that's too easy. What did he make you agree to that you're not telling me?"
"Nothing, I swear. He wants me to stop avoiding him, but that wasn't a command. Oh, also something about sleeping more and eating. Do I have some sort of sign on my face that says, 'feed me?' to people?"
Dean was still very skeptical. "It's not your face, dude, it's the fact that it looks like a gust of wind could knock you over. Nothing else at all?"
"I was just as surprised as you were. Look, I'll grab my pensieve on our way out, you can watch the memory later." Harry abruptly turned and started walking away.
It only Dean a second. "Hey! Where are you going?" He charged after his brother. Who was very fast. Harry was already heading up the stairs when Dean caught up with him.
"Damnit, Harry, you can't just walk away like that."
Harry kept going. "You can come with me – I just need to grab some things before we head back to the States."
Dean followed him up two more flights of stairs before Harry finally stopped climbing and went into a room.
"Dude, your house is huge."
Harry stuck his head out from the closet he was searching through. "Yeah, it was my godfather's, I inherited after he died. He hated it here, so I thought about burning it to the ground, but the location is just too perfect. You can't even get a permit to buy a wizarding property in this part of London anymore. Ron, Hermione, and I moved in here after the war and we spent a lot of time gutting the inside to completely reno it."
"You reno'd this house?" Dean asked, voice dripping with skepticism. Harry had practically been a danger to himself and others while they had built the treehouse for the boys.
"Ah – found it!" Harry exclaimed, pulling what looked to be a large punch bowl out of the closet. "And shut up. I had help."
"I'm sure you did."
"Harry?" a voice called from the landing.
"In here, Gin!"
Ginny walked into the room. "Headed out again?"
"Yeah. We're going to get Sam's soul back."
"That sounds rather important," she responded evenly, but with no surprise. "Well, I went to your favorite chippy – at least come down to the kitchen and take it before you leave."
"Yeah, sure, let me just finish packing. This trip might be a bit extended." Harry was magically tossing clothes out of his closet and onto the bed. The clothes were folding and stacking themselves neatly while he did so.
"Of course, Dean, I didn't know what you'd like, so I just got a some of everything. You can pick out what you'd like."
"Uh – sure." All of this was moving really quickly and Dean was beginning to feel dizzy with all the events that had occurred in such a short period of time. He followed the redhead down about a billion stairs to the kitchen.
Laid on the center island was just a sea of Styrofoam containers. Ginny started opening some so that Dean could see what was inside.
"So, we have the traditional fish and chips," she said, pointing to the first container. "I also picked up some kebabs, curries, and burgers."
"I can see that. Were you just expecting the three of us for dinner?"
Ginny shrugged. "You never know when you show up. I wasn't sure if Ron and Hermione would be called in. And that Gabriel could probably eat twice this all himself."
"You've had dinner with Gabriel? Angels don't eat."
"A couple of times. And he certainly does – but he's a bit of an odd duck, isn't he?"
Dean snorted. "That's the understatement of the year."
"Well, I figure I should just pack up the lot for you. I can get dinner at mum's after you leave." With a wave of her wand, the containers all closed themselves. Dean was still not used to this casual use of magic and he was itching to grab his gun but knew better.
There was an awkward silence.
"So, uh, Harry says that you still talk with Lisa," Dean said.
Ginny didn't look impressed that this was where he was going to take their conversation. "I do," she said tightly.
"Um, how is she?" He asked quickly.
"If you wanted to know you could answer when she calls," Ginny said pointedly.
Dean squirmed. "Look, I just want to know if she's alright."
"She's about as well as to be expected under the circumstances." With that, Dean had no question that Lisa had told Ginny everything. That made him uncomfortable.
"That bad then?"
Ginny was about to respond, when Harry came into the kitchen, cutting her off.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yeah, let's go," Dean replied, feeling horrible knowing how much Lisa must be hurting. She was probably better off without him anyway.
Ginny handed Harry the bag of food. "You be sure he eats this, Dean," she said to the elder Winchester.
Harry rolled his eyes, put his hand on Dean's shoulder, and took the two of them back to Bobby's. Dean opened the door.
"Bobby, it's us," he called into the space, to be sure not to be shot. They found Bobby in his armchair – looking as though he had just woken up.
"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded, not seeing his youngest brother in the room.
"I dunno," Bobby said.
"I told you to watch him!" he hissed angrily.
"I don't think he's left – he's around here somewhere," Bobby grumbled. "Not like there was anything I could do to keep him in place anyway."
"I'll find him," Harry said, wanting to put this argument to rest. He was also curious. Before, when he had tried to find Sam with magic, it hadn't worked. At the time, he had assumed that it was because his brother was in hell. But, according to Hermione, the spell let you find someone's soul – which was, in most cases, in said person's body. "Point me, Sam Winchester," Harry incanted when he stepped outside of Bobby's house. Nothing. Hmm. "Homenum Revelio," he tried.
The spell detected Dean and Bobby in the house. There was a third person in the garage, which Harry assumed was Sam. However, it seemed that there was someone else in there. Had Death already arrived? Did he count enough as a person to register with the spell?
Worried, Harry flew into the garage, instead of walking.
"…you need the blood of your father, but your father needn't be blood. Comprende?" Standing next to Sam was a thin angel speaking with a British accent. Both men looked up when Harry appeared.
Harry pointed his wand blade. "Who's this, Sam?"
"None of your business," Sam bristled.
"Ooh, you're Harry Potter," the British angel said to the wizard. "I've heard so much about you. You can put away that…actually, what is that?" he asked with wonder.
Harry quickly lowered the weapon. "Who are you," he demanded.
"Oh, sorry, how terribly rude of me, I'm Balthazar," he stuck out his hand for Harry to shake. The wizard didn't take it. "I'm an angel," he said as if to further explain who he was.
"I know," Harry replied.
"Do you? How?" He seemed genuinely interested.
"I can see your wings. Well, not really, I can see a bright light. Why are you here with my brother?" Harry had a feeling that something was going on.
"Why, he summoned me. I was very annoyed at first, but getting the chance to meet you in the flesh, well that has made the trip entirely worth it. Cas was right. You are powerful. For a human, at least."
"Sam, why is he here?" Harry asked, giving up on getting any sort of answers from the angel.
"He said why, I called him," Sam ground out, annoyed that he had been caught.
"But why did you…"
"You know, before you two get into the gory details, I was just on my way out. It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry. Sam, don't forget, you owe me." He disappeared.
"What did you do?" Instead of responding, Sam seemed to make a quick calculation and swung a fist at Harry. And he would have caught him too – if Harry hadn't been spending so much time with Gabriel, training, recently. Harry hit him with a silent stunner and Sam came crashing to the ground.
"Why do they both keep trying to punch me?" Harry asked the air. He bent down to put a hand on Sam's arm and took them both to Bobby's safe room. He supposed that he should probably talk to Bobby about adding some anti-apparation wards to the room, although, he supposed that those probably wouldn't keep him out. He was levitating Sam onto the bed in the middle of the room when Dean and Bobby came crashing down.
"What happened?" Bobby asked, seeing the unconscious man on the bed.
"He tried to punch me, probably to knock me out," Harry explained. "And he wasn't alone. He was talking to an angel called Balthazar."
"Balthazar?" Dean asked. "Why was he talking to that dick?"
"You know him?"
"Yeah. He's the douchenozzle angel that was buying human souls."
"Angels do that?"
"Not usually. Cas thinks it was the first time. Ever."
"Great – he said that Sam summoned him. Why would he do that?"
Dean shook his head. "I don't know."
"What'd you do to Sam?" Bobby asked, checking out the man on the bed, who was not waking up to some prodding.
"I stunned him."
"Is he gonna wake up?"
Harry shrugged. "Eventually."
"Sam's fine, Bobby, the stunner doesn't hurt. I'm more worried about why this moron was summoning a particularly unfriendly angel. Did he say anything else, Harry?"
Harry shook his head. "He was interested in me, which is never a good sign." He paused a second. "When I walked in, he was saying something about needing the blood of the father, but the father doesn't need to be blood."
Dean and Bobby looked at each other. "That don't sound good," Bobby said.
"No, it does not. Well, there is nothing to do but wait for Death now, is there? Will this stunner hold him, or do we need to tie him down?" Dean asked Harry.
"The stunner should hold for a bit, but due to his size, not as long as it might for some. No need to hold him down," Harry cast a quick spell. "I put a proximity ward on the bed – he won't be able to move more than two feet away from it."
"Well, that's handy. We should have gotten ourselves a wizard years ago. You're sure that'll hold him?" Bobby said.
"Yeah. It's a spell usually used for children, I used it on Teddy dozens of times while he was growing up. Between that and the warding you've put up, he's not going anywhere. I'm famished. There still food upstairs?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "No, we ate in all in the last five minutes. Of course, Ginny sent over enough to feed a dozen hunters."
"Great," Harry turned and left the room. Dean and Bobby stayed and stared at Sam.
"I really gotta figure out a way magic-proof this saferoom don't I?"
"Might be a good idea. Don't have any idea how you'd manage it though."
Bobby sighed. "Me neither. You wanna handcuff him, just in case?"
"Meh. I trust Harry."
"Alrighty then."
xXxXxXxXxXx
Dear Mr. Potter,
I am unsure if I can get this letter to you. I imagine such as yourself gets a lot of mail that you never even glance at from admirers around the world. This isn't to say that I am not an admirer – what you have done for the wizarding world is beyond comprehension. But that is not why I am writing to you today.
Not long ago I had a visit from someone claiming to be a friend of yours. I doubted that claim at the moment – after all, what interest would you have in an elderly innkeeper of a witch in America? He told me that you had sent him to speak to me about a very sensitive topic. Again, all of this was very mysterious and when he told me that you believed that I was your grandmother, well, I just could not believe him. I asked him to leave without investigating his claim. I regret that, especially in light that we may never have a chance to connect.
I did a genealogy spell later to discover that you are, in fact, the second son of my son, John. John and I had a falling out many years ago. He never knew that I was a witch. While I was raising him, I was a non-practitioner and seeing as he was a squib, his entire childhood was that of a no-maj. He and I had a disagreement that…well if we ever meet, I will tell you all about it, even though it was quite painful.
It looks to me that you were adopted by ways to the Purpura Convention – which is the protocol in this country. I am heartbroken that you lost your adopted parents so early in life. I do not know if you have room in your life for an old lady, but I would very much like to meet you. I can come to England or you could come and visit me here in Maine. It would be nice to meet you.
Sincerely,
Millie
xXxXxXxXxXx
"Harry, if you would be so kind, it's best to put the soul back in while he is awake," Death said to the wizard. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he had left London. Harry was honestly impressed that Death had been so quick.
"He's…uh…not very happy about this whole soul-back-in-body business," Harry explained, "are you sure you want him awake?"
Death gave him a withering look. "I just returned from Hell. Sam poses no challenge to me."
"Alright then," Harry replied, casting a quick rennervate.
Sam woke up suddenly. He quickly noticed that one arm was handcuffed to the bed, and as he began pulling at it, he also spotted Death. "No. No, get away from me!" He exclaimed. "Harry, don't let him do this. We don't know what that soul will do to me."
"That soul is you, Sam," Harry pointed out.
"Now, Sam, I'm going to put up a barrier inside your mind," Death explained.
"No, don't touch me!"
"It might feel a little…itchy. Do me a favor – don't scratch the wall. Trust me, you're not going to like what happens."
"Please. Don't do this."
Death carefully opened the bag he had brought with him. Harry watched with fascination as he pulled out a glowing ball of light and went to put it back inside Sam. The wizard could tell that it was Sam's – though he wasn't quite sure how he could.
"No, no! You don't know! You don't know what'll happen to me! Dean, please! No. No. No."
Death ignored the pleas, as did Harry, Dean, and Bobby. He put Sam's soul in his body.
"Aah!" Sam cried out. He promptly passed out.
Death turned to Harry. "I know it may be tempting, but you should also avoid performing any kind of mind-magic on him. Ever. You taught him some structure that I was able to build on, but any outside interference could bring it all tumbling down."
Harry nodded in agreement. "I don't much like using mind-magic anyway."
"Of course not. Dean," he said, turning the eldest Winchester who was currently checking to feel Sam's pulse.
"Yeah?" Dean asked.
"This one," he said, jerking his head towards Harry, "hasn't been taking proper care of himself. He is my friend. I am putting you in charge of making sure that he gets the appropriate amount of sleep. And if he dies again before Sam wakes up – which will take some time, I will hold you personally responsible. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir," Dean said, swallowing. He wasn't quite sure what Death would do to him, but he had a feeling he wouldn't like it.
Harry glared. "I don't need a babysitter. I can take care of myself. I'm in my 30s, for Merlin's sake."
Death gave him a withering look. "Then act like it and I won't need to assign someone to you. Sleep, eat and don't die. It's simple enough." He vanished. Harry cursed.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Cas had kicked them out of the room – Harry and Dean stood outside anxiously waiting. Several tense minutes, which felt like several tense hours, Cas comes out of the panic room. Sam had been out for the last two days, so they had hooked him up to an IV.
"Well?" Dean asked.
"His soul is in place," Cas responded.
"Is he ever gonna wake up?"
"I'm not a human doctor, Dean," Cas said with annoyance evident in his voice.
"Could you take a guess?"
"Death said that he would wake up, Dean," Harry chimed in, wondering why in the world his brother trusted Castiel over the entity that had put the soul in.
Cas glared at Harry. "Okay. Probably not."
"Oh, well, don't sugarcoat it," Dean snapped back.
"I'm sorry, Dean, but I warned you not to put that thing back inside him."
"What was I supposed to do? Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn't open fire?"
"Let me tell you what his soul felt like when I touched it. Like it had been skinned alive, Dean. If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright."
Castiel disappeared. Dean ran his hand through his hair.
"He'll be alright, Dean," Harry said, trying to be encouraging. He had no idea, of course, but Sam was strong.
"You don't know that. What if this kills him?"
"What was the alternative?"
Dean didn't need to say. The two of them headed upstairs. Things had been a bit tense in the house the last couple of weeks. Harry had wanted to go and stay at his house, which was just a mile away, but Dean had insisted that they all stay under the roof. This was awkward because Bobby and Harry were not quite sure how to act around each other. Harry knew that his comment at hit below the belt – Bobby had been acting as a father to his brothers for years and he, most of the time, was far better than John was. But Harry had seen how miserable Dean had been when he thought Sam was gone. And he couldn't quite forgive Bobby for doing that to his older brother. At the same time, Bobby was stubborn. He didn't feel great about keeping the truth from Dean, but he still thought it was the best.
Seeing Bobby sitting in the living room, Harry went to make a quick exit. "I'm going to go on a walk," he announced, before heading to the door.
"Where?" Dean demanded.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Wherever I damn well please."
"Harry…"
"Dean."
"Fine. But keep your phone on you. And don't die." Dean had been taking Death's directive very seriously. Too seriously, Harry thought. The eldest Winchester couldn't do much for Sam, so all of his mother hen energy was spent on Harry. And he wasn't subtle about it.
"Whatever." Harry headed out.
He hadn't gotten past the driveway when Castiel appeared in front of him.
"We need to talk, Henry," he said.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "We were talking, not ten minutes ago."
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I suppose I do. But I don't like keeping things from Dean. You should have just talked to me up at the house."
"Dean has enough on his plate."
That wasn't untrue. "Fine. My house has good warding – meet me up there?"
Cas nodded.
The two of them flew over.
"Have you made any progress on finding the portal?" Castiel wasn't one for small talk. Harry frowned slightly. Gabriel had prepared him for this conversation. The Archangel wouldn't give up the whys, but he had told Harry what to say. He had also said that angels could tell when someone was lying, but that seemed too convenient to be true.
"I have," Harry decided to say.
"When? Why didn't you tell me immediately?"
"Because I don't work for you and things have been a little busy," Harry retorted.
"Henry, this is of the utmost importance. This will change the course of the war."
"That's what you tell me. But I'm not sure that I trust you."
"Trust? I am an Angel of the Lord. I fell to protect your brothers. I fought at your side. I died. Who are you to question my trustworthiness?"
"The one who you've asked to sneak around behind Dean's back to help you."
"And you haven't done any of your own sneakiness?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Have you told Dean everything that's going on the wizarding world? Does he know that you have resigned from your position? Does he know the extent of the training you got with Gabriel? Have you even shown him your new weapon?"
Cas had him there.
"I'll tell him when he needs to know." Harry didn't think that Dean would approve of all the sneaking that Gabriel and him were doing behind Cas' back. He said almost nothing about Gabriel to Dean in hopes of avoiding any questions that he didn't want to answer.
"Exactly. Now, the location of the portal."
"One more thing – before I tell you." This was a very important part of The Plan. Harry hoped that his acting chops were up to snuff.
"What?"
"There is one soul in this wizard hell that doesn't belong there. He fell through the portal during a battle – he wasn't sentenced to die. If you can, I want you to get him out. He belongs in Heaven." It helped that this is what he truly believed.
Castiel nodded. He didn't like that the wizard was bargaining with him, but, at the same time, he wasn't asking for much.
"I will do what I can."
Harry felt that was the best that he was going to get. "His name is Sirius Black. He is my godfather. He fell through the veil when I recklessly charged into the Ministry to try and save him fifteen years ago. That is where this portal is. At the Ministry of Magic in London. It is heavily warded. I don't know by what, and I don't know if it is warded against angels. The Unspeakables do not answer to me, or even the Minister."
"I understand."
"I cannot use my influence to get you in there – you are going to have to do that yourself."
"Understood." He disappeared.
Harry groaned with frustration. He had had a couple more seeds that he would have liked to plant. It was hard not to feel that giving about the location of the Veil wasn't treason of some sort. The Veil, technically, didn't belong to the British, it belonged to all of wizardkind. But he and Gabriel had talked this through a couple of dozen times and they agreed that this was the best path forward. The safest for both Castiel and the wizarding population of the world. So, selling this one particular state secret to a celestial being was for (and he shuddered at the phrasing) The Greater Good. At least, that's what he told himself.
He wasn't ready to go back to Bobby's house. He was feeling restless – there hadn't been enough action for him recently, especially after the weeks of exhausting training with Gabriel. Dean had practically wrapped him in wool and made him stay in the house.
An idea popped into Harry's head. He checked his watch before he pulled out his mirror. It was still business hours. "Kayla Bluebonnet," he said into the mirror.
"Mr. Potter," came the always prompt reply from his Operations Manager.
"Ms. Bluebonnet, it has been a while. I was wondering if I could stop by the office."
"Of course, Mr. Potter, you are welcome here anytime."
"Great. I'll be there in five." He stashed the mirror away. He didn't really need five minutes, but he also wanted to be sure to hide his abilities as much as possible. Even from his trusted advisor.
Five minutes later, he knocked on Kayla's door. "Come in," she called.
Harry entered and took a seat in front of her desk. He relaxed a bit into the chair and crossed his legs.
"If I may so, you're looking well, sir," she said.
Harry laughed. "I should have resigned my position years ago. It does wonders for the constitution."
She frowned slightly. "I did hear that you resigned over legal reasons. I hope there was nothing that I could have done to have helped. I would have been happy to."
Harry waved her off. "Of course, I know I can count on you, Ms. Bluebonnet. I didn't have a choice; I was between a rock and a hard place. But don't you worry – I'm sure Kingsley will be calling me back into service once this all blows over."
"Good to know, Mr. Potter. What can I help you with today?" She wasn't one for small talk and figured that the former Head Auror hadn't come into the office for idle chit-chat.
"I wanted to check on the status of the operation. I haven't been very hands-on for a year and a half now, and while I have the utmost trust in you and your team, I thought I would check to be sure that you don't need any more resources."
Kayla frowned slightly. "As you know, we have shifted most resources from research to security. Not having to watch the Winchesters has greatly reduced what we require. That, and letting the contracts for most of the research department expire, everything is well in hand."
"Good, good. Have there been any threats to Lisa and Ben?"
"There is an occasional demon that comes near. They have been dealt with appropriately dealt with. The number has decreased in recent months, it appears that they are beginning to understand that their presence will be met with extreme force." Harry knew that meant sent back to Hell, where they belonged.
"No problems?"
"None. The team knew what to expect and is well trained."
Harry nodded. He didn't have anything else to check in on, but he still was avoiding going back to Bobby's. Even though he knew Dean would call in the hounds if he didn't return soon.
"Anything else?" He asked, mostly out of desperation.
"No…well, actually, maybe?"
"Do tell, Ms. Bluebonnet."
"I normally wouldn't bother you with this, sir, but you received a letter the other day that may be of interest."
"Oh?" Harry got many letters. When he was in the States, these were intercepted by Kayla. She let him know if anything of importance came in.
"Yes. It was from a woman who is claiming to be your grandmother."
Harry's heart skipped a beat.
"Of course, letters claiming relation to you are not rare. I'm told that the correspondence department has a pool relating to the number of letters from women claiming that they have had your baby. Long lost cousins or aunts or uncles are also not uncommon. But this one was different. So, the team brought it to my attention. I was going to investigate, but because you're here…"
"Could I see it?"
"Of course. I have it just here." She pulled it out of a file that she had in one of her desk drawers and handed it over to Harry.
Harry took it. He quickly scanned it. His stomach dropped. The mention of the Purpura Convention. And the name at the end – Millie. "I will take care of this myself," he was able to choke out.
Kayla frowned. "Are you sure, Mr. Potter? I assure you that my team is equipped to deal with such matters with kindness."
"I'm sure. How many people know about this letter?"
"Just three. The reader, his supervisor, and me."
"Good. And everyone still signs non-disclosure agreements?"
"Of course, Mr. Potter."
He smiled tightly. "Thank you, Ms. Bluebonnet, as always, you have been a great help. You know how to contact me if anything comes up?"
"Yes."
"Alright. I'll leave you to your work." He apparated away without even standing. Kayla hadn't known that was possible. But now she was curious, so she pulled the copy of the letter from the desk. It was her job to anticipate what Mr. Potter would need next and he certainly took that letter seriously. The Purpura Convention was mentioned. She vaguely remembered hearing about it at school but wasn't exactly sure. Time to do some research.
xXxXxXxXxXx
When Dean walked into the house from tinkering with cars out in the garage, a highly pleasant smell hit his nose. He headed immediately into the kitchen.
"Woah," he said. "You expecting the entire Weasley family? You may want to run that by Bobby first." The sheer amount of food in the kitchen was astonishing. Roast chickens, pot roast, mashed potatoes, all sorts of vegetables, and several desserts crowded the table.
Harry stood from where he had been bent over pulling something out of the oven, and looked over to his brother.
"Of course not. Just had some extra energy, was all."
"This is some extra energy. You've cooked enough…is that pie?" Dean was easily distracted and he finally spotted what Harry had pulled out of the oven.
"Yeah. This one's cherry. Got a strawberry rhubarb and I baked an apple on earlier – it's around here somewhere."
Dean found it immediately, next the sink, as he went to grab it, he felt a stinging sensation on his hand.
"Ow," he said.
"You have to wait. It's not fully cooled yet. And you have to share with Bobby."
Dean practically pouted. "You're not supposed to use magic on squids, you know."
"Squibs," Harry corrected, automatically. "And the laws around using magic on squibs are far looser than the ones for muggles. I reckon that, in a court of law, it would be found that you deserved that stinging hex."
"Whatever, dude. I won't ask again, why have you made enough food to feed a small army?" Dean knew that Harry used cooking as a way to calm down when he was anxious. Especially since his alcohol tolerance had gotten so high.
Harry took a deep breath. "I'm going to go on a trip. I have some business to take care of, but it may take a couple of days. With Ellen off hunting, I didn't want you and Bobby to fall back on diner food and cans of soup for food."
"A trip?" Dean didn't take the bait at Harry's dig on his diet.
"Yeah. Nothing dangerous."
"Oh good, then I can come with."
"It's wizarding business."
"As you just said, I'm a squid, which means I can go with you."
Harry sighed. "Dean, it's personal. I have lived almost my entire life without you tagging along to protect me. Plus, someone needs to watch Sam."
"Lived is an interesting verb for you to use," Dean said pointedly. "And I think Bobby can handle one comatose Winchester."
"And if Sam wakes up while you're away? How would you feel then?"
That actually did make Dean pause. "About the same as you would feel. Postpone the trip."
"No."
The two men glared at each other.
"Fine. But you better keep your phone on and answer it when I call."
"Yes, mum," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I'll only be gone for two days. Tops. Sam's been asleep for nine days already, I'm sure that it will be several more weeks."
Dean didn't respond to that. "Can I have some pie now?"
Harry rolled his eyes again. "One slice. That's it."
Dean grinned. "Thanks, mom!" He said cheerfully repeating Harry's insult.
"Arsehole," Harry said, as Dean took almost a quarter of the pie as a slice and grinned as he left the room.
xXxXxXxXxXx
"Draco, love, you look exhausted," Astoria greeted her husband as he came home from yet another week out of the country. She kissed him in greeting.
"I am," he admitted.
"You're working too hard," she chided.
"I don't have much of a choice, do I? Joanne called me again today. I don't know how much longer I can keep her at bay."
Astoria got a look of determination on her face. Draco wondered just what she had decided. "Scorpius won't be up from his nap for at least another half hour. I'll fetch us some tea, and we'll talk."
Draco knew better than to argue with his wife when she got like this. Nor did he want to – he was hoping that she had thought of something that he had not. She was, after all, the brains of their outfit. They had married for love, something that his parents didn't quite understand. His parents wouldn't agree that she married down, but Draco knew the political and social risks she had taken by marrying him. For many women, love would not have been enough to suffer through the scorn that had cast his family low. Not that they didn't deserve it, of course. Astoria had been all but fired from her publishing job when their engagement was announced. Not that that stopped her – she had simply taken the inheritance from her parents and started her own publishing house. And she was wildly successful and had even maneuvered the buy-out and take over of her former company. Draco admired her cunning and ruthlessness in business but her kindness and generosity to her friends and family.
She brought in a tray with a steaming kettle on it. They could have had house-elves, but Astoria wanted to raise Scorpius differently than she and Draco had been raised, so the two of them pulled together and managed the house chores on their own. She mothered and served Draco tea just the way he liked it – scalding hot, a squeeze of lemon, and one sugar cube. Once they had both settled on the couch, she turned to him.
"Now, to your predicament. You are pretty sure that these Winchesters are relatives of Potter?"
"Yes. If my theory is correct, brothers. But I don't have solid enough evidence to bring to Joanne, and even if I did, I'm not sure that I would want to. I may hate Potter, but I know not to underestimate him. Look at what he did with the whole resignation!"
Astoria pursed her lips. "That was poorly planned."
Draco sighed. "I can see that now."
"A misstep made by a department of Muggles who do not understand the modern wizarding culture well enough. Nor do they know how to handle Harry Potter. Draco, you know I like to let you come to your own conclusions, but I feel I must intercede. You are too close to the situation – and you've never been able to see clearly when it comes to Potter."
Draco inclined his head. She was right, of course, but he didn't feel the need to say it out loud. "What is your advice then?"
"Potter is the walking embodiment of a foolhardy Gryffindor. He acts rashly and casts first and asks questions later. Protecting his family is the most important thing in the world to him and he will go to any extreme, to ridiculous lengths, to ensure their safety. If these men are his brothers, any assault on them will be met with force and no mercy. You need to take what you know directly to him."
Draco set his tea down. "I was afraid that you were going to say that."
"So, you know that I am right. I've thought through every scenario and this is the only way to have a positive outcome for you and our family."
"You know he won't just speak with me. Getting an audience with the man is going to be near impossible."
Astoria gave him a side-long glance. "You're not thinking enough like a Gryffindor."
Draco laughed. "Well, I should hope not."
"You must, in this case. These brothers, the Winchesters, are constantly placing themselves in harm's way, no?"
"Yeah, it's a miracle that they're alive at all. If they had been wizards, I do not doubt that they would have been Gryffindors. They run in without a thought or a plan. But they share Potter's damn good luck."
"Right. And you've been trailing them without a problem?"
"More-or-less. They've been at their friend Bobby's house for quite some time. Potter's put up some impressive warding that I can't get past, but I know they are there."
"You need to continue trailing them. Wait until they are in danger. Make things more difficult for them, if you have to."
"To what end?"
"Why, so you can rescue them, of course. Make sure Potter is not with them. When they are in dire need of assistance on one of these hunts, step in, save the day. The more dangerous and foolhardier the rescue seems, the better."
Draco thought it through. "Astoria, you're a genius."
She smiled coyly. "I know. Now drink your tea before it gets cold."
AN – Hello my friends! Another Friday and another chapter. 😊 I am so relieved that last week's chapter went over well. I was very nervous bringing in an OC but I feel like she was well received!
Question for my British readers – what do you call the kinds of shirts that the Winchesters wear? It is my understanding that a flannel in the UK is what we would call a washcloth in the US.
I hope Balthazar is a nice surprise for everyone this week. I was pleased to be able to fit him in. He's important because while I will not be incorporating a version of The French Mistake, I do plan on tackling My Heart Will Go On. On that note, you will have also noticed that I did not recreate Caged Heat. I try not to set myself for failure when it comes to my (and everyone else's, I presume,) favorite episodes.
I have actually written a version of The French Mistake set in this universe, but it is particularly insane and may or may not involve the traveling tour of the cast of Glee. I may post it as a side fic when I'm done with this one. Or not. Mostly it exists to amuse me. It is very silly.
Thank you for all the comments and reviews this week! I am so happy that others are finding enjoyment in my little thought experiment. A special thanks for all of the birthday wishes! Today I am taking my first day off since December and I am very excited. I will be celebrating with a (small) group of friends tomorrow. Outside, in a socially distanced manner, of course.
On that note, I am currently only about two chapters ahead at any given time. I may need to take a couple weeks off to catch up at some point. I will let you know if it becomes necessary.
Next week's chapter is either going to be called The Once and Future King OR Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus. I can't decide which and it may end up be a combination of both.