I'm pleasantly surprised by the amount of interest this fiction has received on here. To be bluntly honest, this was going to be my second story on ao3 but because it didn't seem to be doing that great, I'd lost interest and decided to put it on the back-burner. I guess it's because it's so different from most HP crossovers. People seem to really like some kind of supernatural!harry and I just...that's not my cup of tea. I thought about this a lot, and I've decided to dedicate more time on this story because I always loved the idea of angels!winchesters and spn/hp crossover. Plus, who doesn't love trickster!gabriel? My french mistake verse on ao3 will always be my top priority, but I think I'll be working on this story alongside it. Thank you guys for reading. You're the best. Seriously!

Part 2

Dean was pacing, he knew he was, but he couldn't help it. The wings caught between a couple books on a shelf and he had to pry it loose. A few feathers fluttered down at his shoes. Damn things. He heard his brother wince in sympathy. This sucked big time. "Fuck this! Why can't we just go? We don't have to play his game."

"Dean, we don't even know where we are. This is Loki's reality, remember?"

Dean growled. "Maybe he's lying, maybe he just dumped us somewhere else. For all we know we could be at some poor bastard's house right across the freaking street! Can a demigod even create realities?"

Sam shrugged, clueless as Dean. "Demigods are pretty powerful beings. I mean they're not as powerful as, say, gods like Zeus but they're pretty damn close. And tricksters, as far as we know, can create elaborate illusions and make things out of thin air."

"I know one thing for sure and that this ain't an illusion," Dean said, tapping on the wall. "At least not a cheap one."

"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly.

There came a sound behind them, a squeak of the door opening maybe, and Dean spun around to catch sight of a young boy staring dumbfounded, at his unexpected guests. Harry Potter, vibrant green eyes, crooked glasses and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Dean would guess he was ten, maybe eleven. Short in height and skinny as hell, wearing a grey t-shirt and dark, blue jeans with more holes in them to ever be considered stylish. Dean hesitated before stepping forward, the shock of the moment repressed. He shot a glance to his brother who stood where he was, frozen in place looking suspiciously like a particularly scared lamb thrown out to a pack of ferocious wolves. No help there. Buck up.

He faced the kid again and tried for a grin that didn't scream 'axe murderer'. The kid wasn't moving by his spot by the door but Dean thought it was a good start that he wasn't screaming at the top of his lungs either. Or maybe that was from shock. Either way Dean was good for now. He slowly kneeled down so he was eye level with the kid. "Uh, hi there, kid." Dean scratched his head, not too sure how to go on about this as the kid's eyes grew wider. How that was even possible he wasn't sure since the kid seemed to have been born with naturally big eyes to begin with. "Uh, you're probably wondering what two grown men are doing in your room right now, right?" He laughed nervously as Harry's head nodded up and down, like one of those crazy bobble heads he'd gotten for Sam as a kid one time for Christmas.

"Are you an angel?" The kid asked quietly.

Dean was taken aback by the question and nearly toppled backwards. Waving his arms around wildly, Dean somehow managed to regain purchase. He must have made himself look like an idiot in the process because the kid didn't look as scared anymore, hiding a giggle in his cupped hands. "Uh, I guess you could say that," he said. "That's my brother over there, that large Sasquatch. He may seem kinda intimidating, but trust me, he's not."

The kid looked over to Sam, who was glaring into the back of his hunched over brother. Hesitating at the threshold of his room, Harry took a small step back. The giant of the man sent a nervous shiver down his spine, the black wings seemed to make him expand to fill the circumference of the room though that was physically not possible. Sam looked back at Harry and his scowl instantly turned into a kind of sheepish smile. It was almost breathtaking, the quirk of the lips seemed to completely transform his face.

"Hi, my name's Sam and the jerk over there's Dean. You must be…Harry?"

Wide eyed, the kid nodded. He looked seconds away from bolting down the hall and calling the cops on them. Dean went on instincts, lunged to catch the kid by the shoulders. "Hey, hey, we're not gonna hurt you, okay? We come in…peace. I know it's really weird, and suspicious and all, but you gotta trust us on this." The kid opened his mouth and it looked like he was going to scream or shout or something. Acting quickly Dean clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling the hysterics. He looked over to Sam, pleading with his eyes for his brother to do something but Sam was as dumbfounded as Dean. "Okay," he turned back to calmly address the kid. "Look, Harry, I'm going to let you go, but first you have to promise us you won't scream or anything equally as stupid. Got it?" The kid nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. Dean sighed. He hated making kids cry. "You also have to let Sam close the door. He's going to do that now, and slowly so you can watch. Okay? I promise you that's all we're doing." Another nod.

Sam slowly made his way to close the door shut, Harry watching warily from beside Dean. Once he got the door locked Dean took his hand from the kid's mouth. Luckily the kid had enough sense not to try biting down. He breathed deep through his nose. Harry rushed over to his bed where he sat down to stare stubbornly at the men. "Fucking tricksters," Dean muttered.

"So just to clarify, are you guys really angels?" Harry asked.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he shared a look with his brother. How the hell were they supposed to explain their current predicament to a kid? Sam leaned over and said, "You know we have to play along, right? We're in the books, Dean. The 'Harry Potter' books. Hear his accent? That's British. My guess is we're in England."

Dean huffed in frustration. "Awesome, just awesome." He turned to the kid sitting on the bed, now staring at them with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "Yeah. We're something like that. You could say we're your 'guardian angels'," he ground out the title Loki gave to them. Fuck him and his game.

Harry stood up suddenly, looking a hell of a lot angry for a rugrat. "Well what if I don't believe in angels? What kind of angels let adults beat up on kids and then starve them!?"

Dean backed up a step, surprised by the outburst. Harry was glaring at them, putting blame on something Dean and Sam couldn't control. "Hey. Why don't you calm down some?" Dean tried to placate. "Take a deep breath and we can all just sit and talk this out without having to worry about getting an eye poked out." That seemed to have gotten through. The kid took a long shuddering breath and sat back down. He still stared at the brothers with some hostility but Dean liked to think the kid was starting to warm up to them, a little.

"Look, we're kind of different from other angels. I mean Dean and I just got our wings today," Sam rushed on as the suspicious glare came back. "We're new at this and we were, uh, assigned to watch over you."

"Yeah so you've got nothing to worry about from now on, now that you've got us, kid," Dean said enthusiastically. They were improvising a lot here. Dean had no clue what he was doing, he felt way in over his head, but he wasn't sure Harry would take the truth much better. That Sam and Dean were hunters and got tossed into some weird reality where one of the most popular book series was real, well that would definitely mess up a person for life. It would be like the 'Matrix' except less of the cool killing machines stuff and more straightjacket type thing and Dean was pretty sure he wouldn't do well in a mental asylum.

"Oh yeah? Then can you guys take me away from my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?"

Dean frowned as he thought about it. "Why?" he asked.

Harry leaned back on the bed. "They're the worst," he said darkly. "They hate me. All they care about is their precious son, Dudley. It's like I don't exist sometimes. And when they do remember me, I wish they'd forget I exist. So if you're really angels, can't you just take me away from here?"

Sam hesitated as he looked back at Dean. He was nibbling the bottom of his lip as he mulled over the request. Sam read the books, not Dean, but it wasn't like it was some secret how Harry Potter grew up before he became a witch—wizard. And book or not, this was real, they were talking real abuse. It was wrong, beyond wrong and before Dean could examine too closely, he felt a spark of anger roiling in his guts. Balling up his hands in fists, Dean took a step forward, about to offer the kid an out even if he wasn't sure the limit to his shiny new status as 'angel'. Sam beat him to the punch.

"Yeah, Harry. We'd be pretty lousy angels if we let our charge continue to be abused." He strode forward and held out a hand. Dean could see the hesitation in the kid's eyes.

He moved forward with the intention of offering a comforting presence to the kid, but suddenly he couldn't feel the carpeted floor beneath his feet anymore. The room went silent and Dean took in his brother's wide eyes, Harry's nearly bulging. "What?" Dean suddenly tumbled forward suddenly, almost squashing the kid on the tiny bed. "Fuck! Sorry, kid. You okay? I don't know what even happened." He rolled off Harry.

Sam was grimacing when he turned to see his brother's face. "You were flying, Dean."

Dean gaped at him. "What? I was…wha..?"

"You were hovering off the ground," Sam said patiently, though with the way Sam was gulping, Dean could reckon his brother was as shocked as he was.

Dean rubbed his head as Harry watched them in confusion. "You guys said you're angels. Why do you seem so surprised that you can fly?" For a kid, he sure was sharp.

Dean ducked his head. "Uh, we said we were new, remember? Sorry. Just can't seem to get used to the damn things."

Dean wasn't sure how long he could last in this place, especially with the new appendages on his back. At least they knew Loki wasn't joking when he said they weren't decoration. They could fly. Shit. It should be easy, like moving a limb, but Dean found it hard and plain frustrating. He couldn't control shit. When he wanted to fly, when he thought 'fly' and jumped in the air, all it did was make him look like an idiot. Harry got the memo from the get-go that Sam and Dean made sucky angels. Just the kid's luck. He had to put up with abuse from his only living relatives and Sam and Dean couldn't just simply fly him away from all the unnecessary pain. He was stuck with these two grown men in his room that took up way too much space in this poor excuse for a bedroom, might as well be a closet.

Dean wasn't going to give up though. He jumped again, murmuring 'fly' and feeling like a retard when all he managed to get was a small 'swoosh' of air. Sam was sitting on the only chair in the room looking massively guilty, for what Dean didn't know. Probably for a lot of things he shouldn't be feeling guilty for, it was just like the Sasquatch and his martyr me-against-the-world attitude.

"So what did you do today?" Sam asked just for conversation.

Harry was staring at the ceiling, had one of those emo faces Dean always saw on Sam. "We went to the zoo earlier," he said. He didn't elaborate and Dean didn't want to know.

"Your birthday today?" Sam asked.

Harry glanced over at him. He had time to get over the natural suspicion, replaced with curiosity. Licking his lips, he admitted, "It's coming up in a few days actually. I'll be turning eleven. Aren't angels supposed to know everything?"

Sam shrugged. "Didn't give us a manual or anything on you, Harry."

"Right, because you're new," Harry said bitterly as he watched Dean attempt to fly again. "Can't even fly when you want to."

Dean paused, frowning. "Hey. We did say we just got our wings today. Give us a break, will ya, kid?"

"Oh sure, like how you gave my parents a break when you let them die in a car crash," Harry sneered. He got up before Dean could get a word in and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Dean turned to Sam, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

"Dammit, Sammy," Dean cursed. "Why does everything bad always happen to us?"

Sam sighed. "Come on, Dean. You're just exaggerating things."

Dean shook his head. "Do you see Bobby or Caleb or even Dad having this much trouble with some supernatural shithead? Oh sure you can argue it's a demigod, but even the little things, man, it's always 'run for our lives' or get eaten or shot or clawed to death!"

"Dean, snap out of it. Look, he said to 'play' the game so that's how we gotta do this. I don't need you having some kind of mental breakdown now, man." Sam paused long enough for Dean to get it together. "So who's going after him? Because you know, Dean, you've always been better with kids."

Dean grumbled but Sam had a point. For some reason Dean had always been more kid…friendly or something. He sighed and got up. "What about the uncle and aunt? And cousin? Think they'll run and scream?" Dean asked looking pointedly toward his back where the wings rested like they belonged there. Fucking things, he wished he could just rip them off. Sam pursed his lips.

"Maybe it'll be better if we waited here," he said eventually.

Dean was disappointed but when he thought about it, Sam probably had a point. Less complication, the better. The kid was already grating on his nerve about how Sam and Dean had been more disappointment than his already dismal life. If this was how everyone acted toward angels, Dean was glad they didn't exist. They would just be disappointed by humans.

The kid came back an hour later, glum and moodier than a teenager. Dean hated to see what the kid was like when he was seventeen. "I hate it here," Harry said with no real heat.

"Yeah, I got that impression. From earlier," Dean said.

"Can you get your stupid wings to work yet?"

"I haven't tried."

"Oh."

The rest of the day dragged by slowly. Dean was getting bored in this overstuffed, poor excuse for a room. The poor kid had hardly any space to dump his stuff. Even the dirty, cheap motels he and Sam booked were better and that was saying something right there. "Must be a drag living here," he said conversationally.

Harry nodded not bothering to look at either of them. "Yeah. When I turn eighteen, I'm going to head to America. As far from this place as I can get," he said. "I might run away before then though."

Sam snorted a laugh. "I know the feeling."

Dean grimaced. Of course Sam could relate, having fought with dad on a lot of things when he was younger. He couldn't get away fast enough from his family, burying himself in books and school, in friends, in normal, the polar opposite of Dean who lived for family. Though he wasn't sure if he would have the same opinion if he shared the same life as Harry. John had never been abusive, not in the way Harry's uncle and aunt were. His hands clenched.

"Do you?" Harry asked dully.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. My dad was a control freak. As soon as the opportunity came, I took it and headed for Stanford."

"I wish I have the same choice here."

Sam bit his lip. "You will," he said firmly after he came to a decision. Dean sighed, Sam was walking a thin tightrope. "In a few days, you'll have the choice."

Harry finally looked at them. "How do you know?"

"Angel, remember?" Sam said with a smile. "I don't know everything, but this, I do know. Just gotta," he paused, searching for the right words, "have faith."