I own nothing. Least of all this.

1:46

"Well, that's not gonna work."

I had once again spent the night at the Cauldron, making sure to draw attention to myself when I left in the morning. I had left the room reserved until the end of the month, but I frankly doubted I would be stay there beyond tonight for any duration before the start of term. Still, better safe than sorry. And it would give Dumbledore something to worry about.

I had decided to determine my best method for vacating this world when the time came. Naturally, my first thought had been of the Rabbit-Hole in Scotland, and the Tree above it. So, after making sure I wasn't being followed, I had smoked to what I felt was a safe distance, and approached invisibly.

Needless to say, I was disappointed.

Oh, I could clearly see the Tree alright. It now stood in the middle of a courtyard, just past the front gates of a massive facility. One with quite a lot of guards and guns. And hounds. Oh, and the symbol of the Men of Letters above the gate. And I wasn't about to try any magical stunts near what I presumed was the most anti-magic organization since the Templars themselves.

"Seriously? You had a perfectly nice base already set up at Torchwood House; why would you move out here? Unless…"

I activated my visor and zoomed in as much as possible. There! A plaque, right in front of the trunk. I could just barely make out…

Oh. Well, that explains why a Tree could lead to the space between dimensions. Branch of Yggdrasil. Hmmm.

"And the only reason I can think of for building your base around it is you're trying to protect it. Ironically enough, probably from Torchwood. It doesn't seem as though you're using it yourself to go exploring, which tells me yet another thing. You're just not keen on the idea of anyone using it. Which means you'd probably take exception if I tried to. Oh well. Couldn't have hurt to try. Back to London then. I've got some messes to clear up before I can pay a call on the assorted morons at the bunker."

I shimmied back down the hill, and smoked away.


"Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"My name is John Winchester, and I have come here to chew bubblegum, and to kick ass. And I'm all out of bubblegum."

"The Ministry of Magic welcomes you. Have a pleasant day!"

Huh. Whaddya know. It actually showed up on the buttons. Hilarious.

I proudly pinned on my badge that read "John Winchester. Bubblegum-chewing and Ass-kicking", and continued on my way. Dwalish was the Auror on duty; he barely even glanced at me as he checked my wand, and then waved me through. Understandable reaction: after all, why would anyone pay attention to someone dressed in Muggle clothes?

Their mistake.

I had stumbled on to my current plan a relatively long time ago, practically on a whim. I had asked myself the question, "Why on Earth would Dumbledore carry around a map of the London Underground on his knee?" The answer, of course, was simple, once I put a few things together: The Underground was the perfect avenue for a break-in to the Ministry of Magic. And now I was heading directly for the section that was practically right on top of the Tube. To wit, the Family Records and Archives. I was actually here on legitimate business as well; if I could find a copy of an official Godparent Adoption Ceremony for one Sirius Black and one Harry Potter, I was sure Ted would have a field day. But that was secondary compared to the heist I had planned for Sunday night.

Albus Dumbledore was the sort of person who always had an ace up his sleeve; I intended to make as many as I could fall out in compromising circumstances. The first on the list was his ability to enter the Ministry unnoticed. It took a fair amount of moved bookshelves, but eventually, I found what I was looking for: a set of runes, chiseled into the stone. I had already been to the opposite side of that particular wall earlier that day to get a good picture of the place in my head (invisibly, of course); it was ridiculously easy to sneak around under London. Now, the time came to test my theory.

I smoked across. Then immediately, I smoked back.

Nothing. No alarms of any kind. Perfect. I now had a believable cover story. I moved the bookcase back (not completely, just enough to be barely noticeable) and got down to business. Time to find what I could find.

Two hours later, I had my proof. I immediately copied all the forms I had found, then replaced them exactly as I found them. Hedwig was certainly gonna love all the mail she was about to be carrying.

The next order of business was a great deal more complicated. I took me at least another two hours to make my way invisibly to the office I wanted. And after that, it was another twenty minutes before said office had a visitor for me to sneak in behind. Perfectly understandable; I wouldn't want to deal with the owner of this particular cubicle unless I had to, either.

After a thankfully short meeting, the visitor left, and the object of my destruction went back to her paperwork. Reaching across her desk, I yanked out her heart, and held it up to the light. Yep, just as black as I suspected.

"Freeze, Dolores Umbridge."

I loved magic.

"You will not speak. You will not call for help. You will not attack me. In two minutes, you will walk to your door, and hold it open for a further fifteen seconds. After that fifteen seconds has passed, you will shut the door, and sit back at your desk. You will then forget that any of this ever happened. Nod if you understand."

She slowly nodded.

"Good. Now, tell me the easiest way to find Walden MacNair, Corban Yaxley, and Madame Edgecombe."

She did so.

"Excellent. You may now open the door."

I crouched down, and waited for my invisibility to activate. It did so just as the door swung open. I slowly made my way out into the corridor, and set off back for the records room. After all, someone had to see me leaving, didn't they?

Not long afterwards I was back out on the street, the heart of Dolores Umbridge stored in one of my many pockets, and a clear plan for the next week to come. I could hardly wait.

First, I made a quick pit stop back at my room at the Cauldron.

"Hiya, Hedwig. Have a good day?"

"Hoot-hoot. (So so)."

"Gotcha. Now, because I value your good opinion, I'm telling you what I'm about to do so you don't try and track me down across an entire ocean. I have here some documents that need to go to Ted Tonks. A reply isn't necessary. Once you're done with that, you can either come back here, or go poking around some more around town. I should be back some time tomorrow; then you can decide whether or not you'll be bouncing around with me or sticking around here. Sound okay?"

"Preck (Fine)."

"Good. Take care girl."

She gave me a look that clearly said, "I always take care!", before taking the package and flapping off.

Once more, I smoked across town, to a spot I knew was frequented by less than zero people. I disappeared down an alley, and after checking for any witnesses, smoked away.

I had never tried to transport myself this far before; the trip to Scotland hadn't seemed to take any more energy than normal. Still, best to cut down on as many variables as I could. First, it was to the coast. Then, it was to Galway Bay in Ireland. Iceland. Greenland. Nova Scotia. New York. St. Louis. And finally, the little town of Lebanon, Kansas.

Good; I had only begun feeling tired just past the Empire State Building, one of the few places in America I could remember with any degree of accuracy (thank you, documentaries). I could make it back to London again no problem in time for tomorrow's shenanigans.

I trudged up to the front door of the bunker, and gave it four solid knocks.

It was a solid thirty seconds before the door swung open.

"…I honestly don't know what else I expected."

"Hello to you to, Castiel. Here, as a peace offering."

"…What is it?"

"You're telling me you don't recognize pie when you see it? Just, take it."

He sighed, and took the box.

"I must warn you; we've got some visitors. Ones that will probably react badly to your…"

"Understandable. I won't be the first time I've had a knife at my neck or a gun at my head."

"…Sorry about that."

"Quite alright. I'm the one that's probably gonna end up saying sorry fairly soon, if what I have to say goes over as well as I think it well."

"…And what's that?"

"Let's get inside first. Some things are better said only once."

"…Follow me, then."

As I walked behind him, the door clanged shut with a familiar finality. For better or worse, the Winchester clan was about to get heavily involved with wizards and witches. I just hoped I could hold things together long enough to get done what needed doing.


*SPLASH*

"…Not possessed, as you can…OW! Not a revenant either, bejaysus woman!"

"Oh, I know. That was for being a jerk and dumping your problems on the boys all those years ago. That being said…I owe you a drink for killing that humongous waste of space known as Vernon Dursley."

"…I'll hold you to that, Sheriff Mills. Now, might there happen to be a towel around here?"

"In the kitchen. This way."

"I'm familiar with the layout of a Men of Letters bunker, Sherriff. "

"Jody. Its Jody."

"Jody, then. And I'm…"

"The dude who apparently can't stick to a single name, I know. Cas told everyone when he found out."

"Of course he did. Where are the boys?"

"Probably watching Scooby-Doo in Harry's room."

"Ah, so he does stay here! Excellent. Makes things easier."

"And what things we talking about?"

"Well…"

Any semblance of conversation stopped when we stepped into the kitchen.

Rowena, I was expecting to see sooner or later. It had probably driven her spare when she couldn't make it to Diagon Alley with the boys. Magic was her love, after all, and any new knowledge along those ley-lines would have been irresistible to her. After thinking it over for some time, I had come to the conclusion that however she had ended up one of the founders of Hogwarts, it probably hadn't happened yet, judging by how neither Crowley or Gavin MacLeod had been listed as heirs to the Ravenclaw line. More time travel: yay!

Ketch was a bit of a surprise; I knew he was acting as Sam's right-hand man now, and that as a demon, he was probably even more effective at his job than ever. To see him in the bunker instead of someplace a little hotter was unexpected, to say the least.

But none of that was what made the scene in front of Jody and I awkward.

It was the rather passionate snogging the witch and the assassin were currently engaged in. Well, that explained why Ketch was hanging around here, of all places.

"Seriously you two? Couldn't you at least find yourselves a closet?"

They broke apart looking quite flushed. Ketch was the first to recover any semblance of control. "My apologies, Sherriff. I shall endeavor to remember that for the next…"

Anything he might have been planning to say next died on his lips as he realized Jody hadn't come into the room alone.

"You. You're real."

I made a show of looking down and poking myself. "Am I? The definition of 'real' seems to get a bit blurred whenever I'm around."

"Your mask. Put it on."

"Why, may I ask?"

"I need to know. For sure."

I shrugged. "In for a penny…"

I activated my visor.

"…It really is you. When Castiel showed us what the Assassins had found, I'll admit, I was skeptical. After all, it's not everyday you find the real-life doppelganger of a man who has supposedly been dead for over half-a-century."

"I'm sorry, I'm what now?"

"Sir Witcher. Knight of Northumberland. Second ever Man of Letters. Appointed by Queen Victoria herself. Your portrait is on permanent display in their Headquarters. Wearing…" he pointed, "…that exact mask. And you've been listed as Missing in Action for, well, practically forever."

Sometimes, I really hate time travel.

"…You don't say. I don't suppose that gives me any sort of leeway to just stroll in, does it?"

"I should say not. They'd probably throw you in the deepest dungeon available, if not because of your identity being doubted, then because you somehow managed to live a century beyond what was believed without showing any signs of age. Believe me; I've seen it happen."

"Ah. Captain Jack Harkness?"

"Who?"

"Guess not."

A certain red-headed witch decided she had been left out of the conversation long enough. "I'm sorry dears, but I'm afraid I'm just not quite understanding. Correct me if I'm wrong, but what I'm getting from all this is that this…renegade, that managed to take down both one of the largest corporations in the world, as well as the secret organization that sponsored them, has somehow also either come back from the dead, or achieved immortality?"

"Technically it's both."

"…Arthur dear? Why didn't you tell any of us this?"

"…I…well…"

"Never mind. Now, I'm sure you've probably had a long journey from…London, I'm guessing?"

"You could say that."

"Well then, how about I put the kettle on, and we all settle down and explain ourselves to each other. Arthur dear, if you would be so kind as to fetch Harry and Dudley, and find out where tweetie-pie angel has wandered off to."

"But..."

"No buts, dear. I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for you to catch up with one of the original members of Librarians Incorporated later."

"…Yes dear."

I watched him walk away, a definite slump in his shoulders. "Got him properly whipped, then?"

"Well dear, when one is unable to visit Hell itself for first-hand information, it is always advisable to keep a tight leash on the most reliable source of the second-hand."

"Hold up. You can't visit Hell? When did that happen?"

"The same time we took care of ye olde pompous windbag. Didn't the tweetie-pie tell you?"

"All he told me was that Dean and Sam got stuck during the ritual, but that it was still possible to visit them."

Rowena and Jody shared a glance. "Will you tell him, or shall I?"

Jody held up her hands. "You were there Red, hell, you were at the center of it. You know more than I do how it happened."

Rowena sighed. "Very well then. If you would be so kind as to get that kettle started, I'll handle it."

"Sure thing."

Rowena gestured to the table. "Have a seat, dearie. This…isn't going to be easy."

I slowly sat. "…What happened."

"…You have to understand, dear, there always has to be balance. One cannot just simply bind someone like Chuck without consequences. Sacrifices had to be made on both sides. Ironically enough, it was young Harry that suggested the plan. If you can bind one, why not bind the other at the same time, and have the two losses cancel each other out?"

"…I'm not sure I like where this is going."

"Oh, trust me, it gets worse. Jack, being Jack, and Dean, being Dean, thought it would be a good idea to get Amara on our side. If she would willingly agree to be bound with her brother for all eternity, it would make things easier."

"And were they?"

"For a while. Amara showed us the ritual to use; it came in two parts. The first, required three souls to be brought back to life, one from each afterlife, and to stay alive. Permanently."

"…And you were the one brought back from Hell."

"Correct! That clever little hacker friend of the boys was the one they took from Heaven, but for the Empty…well, there was really only one candidate at the time."

"…Who?"

"Why, Castiel, of course. The Empty came for him in place of Jack. The boys went and got him back."

"And now he can't die. So what?"

"You're not getting it dearie; it's not just that he can't die. It's the fact he can't enter the afterlife. Ever."

"…And Sam and Dean can't ever leave it."

"There you go. The second part of the ritual; three souls, all passing on, and never coming back. It was going to be Jack and the boys, but in the end, Death found out what we were doing, and She and the Empty joined forces to try and stop us. Amara fighting Chuck, the Empty fighting Jack, and Death fighting everyone else. In the end, when everything seemed hopeless, two things happened. Harry's aunt, I believe her name was Petunia, killed Death with Her own scythe. Death got her as well, but that was enough. And Michael, still riding Adam Winchester, showed up. He dragged the Empty back to its realm, and gave his own life in place of what would have been Jack's. The ritual worked; Amara and Chuck both disappeared forever. I presume they're still fighting, wherever they are now. And poor Castiel was left to look after two young boys practically all on his own."

"…The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death. Ironic."

"Quite so, dear. Quite so. The boys can still visit the…well, the boys, but neither Castiel nor I can go with them. Jack comes by sometimes, but he is rather busy up in Heaven making new angels. He tried to find Miss Petunia and give her the option, but she wasn't in Heaven. And dear Arthur searched high and low in Hell, with no luck. No one's been able to bring themselves to check purgatory yet. And well, I'm pretty sure the Empty wouldn't be too keen to tell us."

"…Understandable. I really bollocksed things up, sending them here, didn't I?"

"No, dear. You gave those two young boys a set of fathers; you gave Petunia a family; and you gave Sam and Dean a reason to keep fighting. And that was all they really needed."

Jody set the warm kettle on the table between us. "Tea's done. Even found some…"

I tore open the package. "Jammie Dodgers! Fantastic!"

Rowena poured herself a cup. "That'll do just nicely, Sheriff."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it."

"Understood. Hey, you made it; take some!"

"No thanks. Not really into British food."

"Rowena. Jody. Witcher."

I turned around. Castiel and Ketch were standing there, along with Dudley, and the main reason I had come all the way to America in one day.

"Hi guys!" I held up the open pack. "Anyone want Jammie Dodgers?"


"Is it him?"

"No doubt about it. Ninety-three percent match, although the sweater is new."

"I don't like it. There's only one kind of person we know of that can randomly appear and disappear on security recordings."

"Well sir, with all due respect, his name is the Witcher. Did you expect him to take a bus?"

"Keep monitoring. If things have gotten bad enough for the Witcher to take an interest in wizarding society, we could finally get the authorization to shake things up in there."

"The Muggleborns will be happy to hear that, sir."

"Won't they just."