AN: Two more chapters to go! And now... Crowley enters!
***HPatMwaB***
"So... you're a time traveller, and all these references to the Doctor are all to you?"
Aziraphale had called his friend and asked him to come over. While they were waiting for him to show up, the Doctor had explained a bit more about himself.
"Yep! Mind you, you seem to have collected some works referring to things that haven't happened to me yet, so be careful what you tell me. Also, I thought I'd covered my tracks a bit better. I gave Mickey the Idiot a virus that was supposed to delete all references to me. Although that wouldn't have affected already published books, come to think of it."
"Yes, well, I do have a bit of an unfair advantage in that regard, in that I did walk the earth long before the first scripts were being invented. Most people wouldn't know what to look for, or see the pattern."
"What's this?" said a new voice from the doorway. The Doctor looked up and drew his brows together.
"What?" he said.
His expression was neatly mirrored by the newcomer.
"What?" said the other.
"What?" the Doctor repeated, staring at the man who had just entered. One one side of the pair sat Aziraphale, looking rather smug. On the other side stood Harry, looking from one to the other.
"That is weird!" he half-whispered.
The newcomer was the first to somewhat recover, pointing an accusing finger at the Doctor. "You're wearing my face!"
The Doctor jumped up, raking a hand through his hair. "You're wearing mine! Ooh, and you're GINGER! How unfair is THAT?"
Rather than answer, the man turned to Aziraphale, who looked slightly abashed. "Angel, what is going on?"
"Ah. Yes. Well, you see, what happened is this," he started, and so Harry's story was repeated yet again.
"And so," Aziraphale concluded, "we will both be needed to help Harry, you see? It'd take miracles from both of us to do something about the problem."
"Ok. Tell me, why should I help? What's in it for me?"
The Doctor cast Crowley a disgusted look. Their faces might be the same, but that was as far as their similarities went. As far as he was concerned, if you were in a position to help, you did, never mind personal gain.
Harry's thoughts ran along a similar path, judging by the way he edged closer to the Doctor.
Only Aziraphale hardly reacted, other than perhaps the tiniest of eyerolls. He knew the demon in a way the other two did not. This was his standard 'roar, I'm a big bad demon!' spiel. If he could just find a good enough excuse, he'd help in a heartbeat.
"You'd have a soul that, by the feel of it, should have joined your ranks a long time ago," the angel said. "I think a commendation from higher-up is a distinct possibility if you can bring that in."
The demon pursed his lips in thought. "Hmm, there is that. And anyway, he's just a kid, right? He should be allowed to make his own mistakes. Free will and all that, you know how I get about that. Can't exercise your free will if you're being possessed, can you?"
He turned to the young boy. "But listen, kid. Are you quite sure you want a demon in your head?" And he took off his sunglasses for the first time, revealing a pair of golden snake eyes.
Harry stared at the eyes in fascination. And then... he hissed.
"You're a snake!"
Crowley's mouth fell open. "What? How do you know the Serpent Tongue?"
"What's Serpent Tongue? I'm talking in English, aren't I?"
"Hardly, kid. You're speaking an ancient language from a civilisation that lived and died a long time ago. I thought nobody but the snakes even still remembered the Serpent Tongue. And you hear it in English, you say?"
The Doctor's face showed the same fascinated expression as Crowley's, if for a different reason. He knew many, many languages of his own, and the TARDIS could translate many more, but he could make heads nor tails of the hissing that was coming out of his charge's mouth. He reached into an inner pocket of his pinstriped jacket and withdrew thick-rimmed glasses which he perched on his nose while peering intently at the two.
"This is fascinating! They're speaking in a language neither I nor the TARDIS has encountered before, and Harry seems to be fluent in it! Brilliant!"
His words drew Crowley's attention, making him switch back to English.
"Yes, well, I'd quite like to know how he has that language myself. Angel, count me in. We'll get rid of that parasite wannabe and then we'll have a little talk."
A short while later, Harry was sitting cross-legged in the centre of a double pentagram. The sides of the upward-pointing star were drawn in white, while the downward-pointing one was in black. Aziraphale was standing at the upper white point, Crowley at the lower black point. The Doctor, as an individual who carried within him both light and darkness, as recognised by both the angel and the demon, was sitting opposite Harry, holding his hands.
"Ready?" he asked with a lopsided grin.
Harry took a deep breath and nodded. It was now or never, he decided. If a literal angel and demon could not help him, then nobody could.
Aziraphale and Crowley started a chant, and soon tingles spread from Harry's feet and hands, travelling up his body, up and up and up, until they concentrated in his scar. At that point his eyes rolled back and though he stayed upright, he did not notice anything around him anymore.
"Showtime," the Doctor muttered, before placing his fingers on Harry's temples and closing his own eyes.