It's A Kind of Magic

by Moony12

AKA, The Crossover of DOOM. Adam Young's gone to Hogwarts. Aziraphale and Crowley pose as wizards to keep an eye on him. Harry et al make memorable cameos. Comic hijinks ensue.

6. The Leaky Cauldron

5. The Leaky Cauldron.

"We've been up this road four times now," said Aziraphale, in an exasperated tone. "These directions are completely unhelpful."

"Let me see," said Crowley, pulling the book out of Aziraphale's hands. He studied the page closely, then looked up and surveyed the neighrbourhood they were in."This is the right street," he said. "We're supposed to be looking for a pub, called the Leaky Cauldron."

The angel sniffed. "I am looking," he said. "I don't see it."

They crossed the road. "Maybe we passed by on the other side," said Crowley, wretchedly. "Or maybe this is all a bunch of hokum, and your theory is-"

"Crowley!" Aziraphale grabbed his arm. "Look!"

He pointed to the run-down facade of what seemed to be an abandoned building. The windows were fogged over with years of dust and London grime, and the paint on the trim had nearly completely chipped away. It looked condemned.

And it had begun to change.

It still looked abandoned in the end, but where the sign had just been black it now said The Leaky Cauldron. The words bled into the wood liquidly, and the faintest hint of warm firelight could just be seen behind the filthy windows.

"That, er." Crowley flipped through the book frantically. "Right. Non-magic folk – um, Muggles - cannot see the Leaky Cauldron." He looked at Aziraphale. "We're not magic, though."

"In Adam's mind we are," said Aziraphale.

"He's the Antichrist, angel-"

"And he's an eleven-year-old boy," said Aziraphale, "with next to no comprehension of what he is or what we are."

Crowley nodded. "So, we would seem like magical creatures to him." He stared up at the pub. "I suppose we go in, then."

Aziraphale took the book from Crowley and pocketed it. "After you, dear."

"Right," said Crowley, and he stepped up to the door and pushed it open.

All conversation stopped.

But that was the norm inside the Leaky Cauldron, where strangers were met with shifty glances and whispers that lasted a few moments before talk resumed again, the patrons having lost interest.

Crowley hesitated. He stepped aside to allow Aziraphale to come in and shut the door behind them. They looked around in slack-jawed amazement.

"Cor," said Aziraphale, under his breath. "It's like... like..."

Crowley sighed.

"Like the bloody 14th century all over again," he finished.

Crowley hated the 14th century.