A/N I don't own Harry Potter nor do I own Supernatural
Chapter 18
John answered and said to them all, "As for me, I baptize you with water; but One is coming who is mightier than I, and I am not fit to untie the thong of His sandals; He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.
His winnowing fork is in His hand to thoroughly clear His threshing floor, and to gather the wheat into His barn; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire."
~Luke 16-17~
Bobby Singer's house at Singer Salvage Yard, South Dakota
Summer 1991
The barking of a dog followed the creaking of a screen door as John Winchester walked out onto Bobby Singer's front porch. A Rottweiler stood next to the wooden railing, barking excitedly with his tail wagging in anticipation.
Straining against its chain collar, it paced back and forth. Its black coat shone in the fading light of the summer sun.
The air was just beginning to cool as John exasperatedly pat the dog on the head. Shrugging his bag onto his shoulder he placed a ball cap on his head. John glanced toward his Impala and started to walk toward it calling for his boys. Bobby follows behind, the screen door slamming shut.
"You make sure to check in every couple of days, so we know ye ain't dead. Ya hear?" Bobby said gruffly as he stomped his feet to ward off the incoming chill of the evening air.
"Yeah, yeah. I will. I won't be long….where are those boys? I told them to stay in the front." John exclaimed irritated.
"Probably playing in the junk again. Ten bucks say they playing hunt and go seek." Bobby chuckled as John placed his bag in the trunk of his Impala and closed it.
"DEAN! SAM! COME ON OUT! YOUR POPS IS 'BOUT TO LEAVE! COME AND SAY GOODBYE!" Bobby shouted. His voice reverberated off the cars. Other than the barking of a dog, only silence greeted them.
An uneasy feeling settled like lead in the pits of their stomachs. They glanced at each other. Faces clouded in worry, the beginnings of panic starting to take hold around the edges of their eyes.
"DEAN! SAMMY!" John screamed. But there was no answer. Both men started scanning the yard, walking quickly through the rows of cars and calling the boys names.
The longer they went without an answer the quicker they walked until finally, they broke out into a run. Canvasing the whole salvage yard, they met back at the Impala. Their faces were grave.
"Christ! Where the hell could they have gone? I don't have time for this. If this is them joking around, I swear those two will be grounded until they are thirty when I find them." John swore under his breath as he struggled to get his breathing under control.
"We'll find them John they can't have gone far. We last saw 'em only an hour ago." Bobby panted. His eyes roved the ground looking for prints. John spotted them first. Running toward them he crouched to examine the ground. Waving Bobby over, they looked at the prints.
"These are relatively fresh, they look like the boys were wrestling and then they took off in that direction." John guessed. Both followed the trail with their eyes, to see it lead to the forest. Bobby grimaced.
"I'll get Rumsfeld. He should be able to track them. Get something of theirs for him to scent." John nodded as Bobby stood quickly and jogged over to where his dog paced eagerly for him. John walked briskly to his impala to grab some things from his car.
Both met back up at the trail.
Bobby holding the dog by the scruff, and John holding a machete, a gun, and a blanket. Passing the blanket to Bobby, he held it to the Rottweiler's nose.
"Track." The dog barked and took off with his nose to the ground. Both John and Bobby jogged close behind as they trekked through the forest. Both were silent as the dog worked, neither wanting to alert any forest predators toward their location. Both prayed that they would find Sam and Dean unharmed. On and on they went.
Until the trees thickened and the forest darkened. Sunlight had a hard time filtering through the dense canopy.
Suddenly the dog stopped sniffing around a tree in a clearing. Both men stopped to observe their surroundings. Paling when they spotted broken branches ahead of them with sprinklings of blood on the bark.
Both men looked at each other as a scream tore through the forest. A scream of a young boy.
"SAMMY! DEAN!" John bellowed as he recognized the voice. Both men took off running in the direction of the screams. John prayed under his breath as they ran through the forest. They could hear it now. Barks and growls of what they knew to be wolves.
Panic drove their feet, their lungs heaving as they fought the onslaught of branches to get to the boys in time.
"Please let us not be too late." Was the mantra that Bobby huffed continuously between breaths.
Dean's shouts and screams for his brother filled the forest. Then the sound of a gun going off twice had them pound their feet harder to get to the children. The sounds of wolves howling, snarling and fighting could be heard echoing through the forest.
Then all was quiet for a few moments except for their panting breaths as they ran. Then Dean's mournful cry sent dread and fear down John and Bobby's spine as they burst through the trees in time to see the devastation in front of them.
Wolves lay dead all over the clearing and in its center. Sam's bloodied mangled body was laid out with Dean curled around him protectively.
Then, suddenly a white light flashed through the clearing blinding them. When they finally could see again, Bobby's breath hitched. For before him, was the child he had thought he would never see again.
Rumsfeld stopped in the clearing and sat patiently staring at the child as Dean and Sam stared at the boy in awe. The child was beautiful. Dark hair falling in tumbling waves down shoulders. Green glowing eyes, shown brilliantly in the forest's pale light. Skin illuminated as if it had an inner glow.
John had a hard time processing what he was seeing. For a moment before his sight was encompassed in the light he could have sworn his precious Sammy was dying. But now, looking at him there was no wound to be found. No evidence except for his mangled clothes.
There was no blood. A melodic voice echoed through the trees, filling him with warmth.
"Welcome back, hazel one."
Then eyes greener than fresh leaves or summer grass glance up and connected with his own. A smile lit up the child's face and the fear that had filled him on his run to the clearing disappeared as if it had never been.
In its place, warmth filled him and he found an answering smile on his face. Walking cautiously toward his sons he looked at them both. Eyes raking their bodies looking for injuries.
The only one that was injured was Dean. But before his eyes they fell away, skin knitting together, blood evaporating as the unknown child brushed his fingers gently upon Dean's cheek. Dean glanced at the boy.
"Thank you." He breathed. Then he turned towards John, his eyes tearing up as he saw him. "DAD!" Sammy notices him seconds later. Suddenly John found himself holding two sobbing children as a third watched on with a small smile on his angelic face.
Both children trembling as they recounted the tale of their fear-filled adventure between sobs and hiccups.
John swept his gaze at the upturned trees and dead wolves. His eyes finally fell back on the mysterious child that had saved his sons if what he was hearing was to be believed. He heard Bobby walking toward him. The child gave them one last smile and then turned toward the forest. He began walking. Bobby's steps quickened.
"Wait!" He choked out desperately. The young boy stilled. "Please wait!" A lone emerald eye glanced at them as the boy tilted his head looking back from his shoulder. A strange staff that looked out of place, held at the otherworldly child's side.
"Yes?" Came the bell-like voice.
"Where are you going? This is no place for a child. You don't have to go back to that monster. I. We can help you, Harry." Bobby exclaimed.
"Harry? Who is this Harry? My name is Ascha Nanaeel. As for the monster….you must speak of the dark one. However, he is no danger to me. If he tried to hurt me, I would smite him before he could. Just as the other dark one fell before me. So too would he." Ascha chuckled.
Bobby's mind blanked in remembrance that yes, this child did indeed smite a demon.
"Your name is Harry Potter. You were born to Lily and James Potter. Both were part of the wizarding world. You don't belong with that monster. You belong with your kind. Come with us. Whatever deal you agreed to, I am sure we can get you out of it. If only you would come with us." Bobby pleaded. Ascha turned fully to face them.
"Harry Potter? Perhaps that was my name before. Perhaps. But it isn't now. I am Ascha Nanaeel and all shall know me by this name." Ascha intoned. His voice echoed in their skulls like a gong. The wind whipped through the trees as thunder crashed in the distance. Just as suddenly, the wind died as Ascha tilted his head.
"Deal? What deal? Hell! Are you telling me this child made a deal with a demon Bobby?" John growled out. Ascha merely cocked his head to the other side as if he was listening to voices in the wind.
"I told you about it when I told you what went down in London," Bobby muttered.
"Damn it, Bobby. He's just a kid." Came John's incredulous reply.
"I know." Came Bobby's whispered reply. "I wasn't strong or fast enough to save him."
"You speak as if I need saving, Mister." Came Ascha's voice as he played with a golden cross on his neck. Fingers twisting through the gold link chain.
"What deal did you make kid?" Came John's rough voice. Ascha tilted his head to the other side again as his glowing emeralds speared his dark ones.
"He said he would teach me to speak normally, how to protect myself, that he would teach me about the world and what lives in it," Ascha said quietly. Shadows gathered at his back upon the trunks of the trees, though there was no light to do so.
"In exchange for what?" Bobby breathed.
"Your soul?" Came John's voice. Ascha shook his head as the shadows formed what looked like wings that burst into falling feathers at his back before they disappeared as if they had never been.
"There was a piece of someone's twisted soul attached to my scar. Crawly said it belonged to the bad man that took my mama and papa away. So he asked me if he could take it and if I would help him find the rest. Said the bad man was going to Hell anyway so it was a win-win for me. Whatever that means…" Ascha sang out with a shrug of his shoulders.
"In any case, it doesn't matter. Crawly has helped me a lot. He buys me my own clothes, lets me eat whenever I want and I can bathe every day. I even have my own room and house. He even let me keep all my animal friends." Ascha went on excitedly.
John and Bobby were staring at the place where the shadows had formed. Thoughts racing in disbelief and rage at what the child went through to be so happy to receive things he should have had all along.
"Animal friends?" John questioned absently as he worked his jaw in thought.
"Yup!" Ascha confirmed, popping the "P." "There's Fluffy, Mr. Snaky, Eight-legs, Pin Cushion, oh and there is Fawkes!" Laughed Ascha. "They are my bestest friends ever." He finished, twirling a little, his staff aiding him in his pirouette.
Giggling as an answering trill sounded from above him as Fawkes flew down to alight on a branch closest to Ascha. Bobby and John sucked in a breath as they saw the Phoenix.
"In all my years, that has to be the most breathtaking bird I have ever seen." Bobby breathed. Sam and Dean peeked out from John's arms to look at it. Both gasped in awe.
Shaking his head John decided to put what he had seen to the back of his mind as he tackled the problem before him. A child in the care of a demon was something he didn't want. No matter what that child was.
And there was no question. This Harry Potter or Ascha Nanaeel was not human. The question remained whether he would grow up to be something he would have to hunt or if he would be the hunter. Judging from the fact that he saved his boys, he had yet to be corrupted by the demon. He could still be saved.
"Kid. Why don't you show us where you have been staying? A child should not be alone. It isn't safe. No matter if you can defend yourself or not. Take us to where you've been staying so we can gather your things."
"You will be coming with us back to Bobby's place and you can stay with him while we notify your people you are still alive. People are looking for you. Friends of your parents. They will want to know that you are okay."
John said gruffly in a no-nonsense manner.
Ascha merely looked at him in thought. His Head tilted as if he was listening to someone speak. His hand traced the cross upon his neck again and again.
Green eyes stared into his own as the bird trilled at Ascha. The boy absently trilled back as he traced his cross. Just as suddenly as the staring contest started, did it end. Ascha blinked, a brilliant smile stretching across his face.
"OK." Beamed Ascha as he turned sharply to walk deeper into the forest. "I'll leave a note for Crawly to tell him where I've gone so he doesn't get mad and think someone took me."
"That happened a few months back and Crawly was so mad he sent his big doggies after the meanie. He comes to check on me every couple of days to replace my food and make sure I am studying like I'm supposed to. He also teaches me how to handle weapons too."
"Said he wants me to be strong like a hunter or something," Ascha called over his shoulder. "Well come on! Keep up! It's just over this stretch of trees." He chirped as he trekked further into the foliage.
Bobby, John, and the boys followed behind him after some hesitation.
Their eyes trailed over the dead wolves. The Rottweiler ran up to walk alongside Ascha.
Barking at him now and then as they walked.
The men and boys were strangely quiet as Fawkes followed overhead. As they continued the trees started to thin out as they got closer to another clearing. Stopping as they came upon a cottage they looked on in disbelief.
Shaking their heads they continued as Ascha walked toward the little house. He paused when he caught a peculiar sight. Rumsfeld stopped with him.
A lone owl perched upon his roof. Golden eyes staring into green. Ascha tilted his head in thought.
"Now just who might you be little fella?" He questioned before he started barking in a tone that was in imitation of a bird call. The men looked on dubiously until the owl replied to him.
Before long the owl and Ascha were seemingly having a full-blown conversation much to the doubt of the others. The owl took flight toward Ascha as he outstretched his arm.
It landed, then waddled up his forearm until it was comfortable before holding out its leg. A letter was attached to its foot.
Mr. H. Potter
Little Cottage
15469 Falls Rd.
Sioux Falls,
South Dakota
Ascha carefully opened the letter. Then the clearing was filled with the sounds of numerous pops.