Disclaimer: Good news, I have come into pocession of a mug. I didn't, however, own the tea in it, almost the same way I don't own Supernatural or Harry Potter
Warning: Dean made a sex sound. (teehee)
My Note: I have not slept in three freaking days and it is now twelve am. I am torn between saying please enjoy the story and I hate you all. Due to my general oddness, however, I an going to go with option c and say pizza is awesome as is pb. Stay super guys.
"Good afternoon ma'am, my name is James skeeter and my associate Colin Creevey," Harry briefly gestured to the Sam that had been elected to back him up – or really, judge Harry's abilities to talk to others – while Dean broke in through the back door of her house looking for anything suspicious in the bedroom of her, now dead, brother. "I'm with the Daily Herald. I was wondering if I could have a couple moments of your time to ask a couple questions about the tragedy that occurred here recently." Harry offered up a bedazzling smile to the pretty young waitress and she blushed before stepping back to let them in the house.
"I don't know how much I can tell you." She spoke as she led them into the lounge room, gesturing for them to make themselves comfortable on the large couch. "I crashed out when I got home; I had just finished a double shift."
"That's okay; we are more interested in writing a dedication to him rather than exploiting his… the situation." Harry gave her a sympathetic look and just like that the poor girl fell apart. Crying and shaking.
Harry had gone through enough experiences in his life to hone his comforting ability to a fine art. He stood up and calmly walked towards her wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tutting softly "Was he a nice guy then?"
"Y-y-yes" she choked out and Harry nodded waiting for her to continue. "He was my only f-f-family and h-he was always looking out for me. I don't know what I'm going to d-do now."
"Did everyone love him too?"
"Y-yes. He had so m-many friends. We all loved him."
"Can I ask what happened to the rest of your family?"
"Mum g-got so sick and Johnny always looked after her, always. T-then when she died, d-dad was so angry and h-he left us."
"That's no good at all." Harry cooed and she buried her face in his shirt "Do you know where your dad is now?"
"N-no, he didn't like us. I h-haven't heard from him in a long time."
"That's probably a good thing though isn't it? He sounds like a bit of a ponce." She gave a half-hearted giggle against his chest "a nice girl like you doesn't need a guy like that hanging around. But could you let us know what his name was Hun?"
"Gregory."
Dean starred openly when Harry and Sam came back to the car, or more accurately he starred openly at the pie Harry was carrying on the way back to the car.
"Is that pie?" He asked rather stupidly as Sam starred in awe at the midget.
"Yeah," Sam replied to his brother first and then turning to Harry asked "where the hell did you learn to do that?"
"You do live a tragic life without learning to 1) lie through your teeth at a moment's notice and 2) learn to deal with crying people." He thought for a second before adding, "You also learn to run really, really fast and avoid the media like they're the plague."
"Why'd she give you pie?"
"Oh, something about being a nice young gent, or something like that." He waved a dismissing hand, then seeing Deans deprived look for the first time he gave a small smile "You could have some when we get back to the hotel if you want. I have never been all that fond of pie anyway."
The fifteen minute, relatively safe drive to the hotel became a five minute and damn dangerous drive as Dean speed through the town. Then all of them settled around the table in Sam and Deans room did they begin to talk. Well, Sam and Harry spoke while Dean made sinful noises to each new mouthful of homemade, still hot pie.
"Is there a way to find out if this Gregory bloke is dead or not?" Harry asked and Sam nodded reaching for his laptop.
"Do you think it was him then?"
"Well," Harry pursed his lips thinking. "His dad was the only one that really seemed to dislike the guy. It was probably some kind of jealousy thing."
"Oh yeah" Sam nodded as he typed. "His wife liking his son more than him and all that."
"Is that really enough for someone to want to stay back and kill someone?" Harry honestly thought it seemed a little extreme.
"People have done worse for less." Dean spoke up for the first time. "Hell, I've seen ghosts that have killed someone over a broken car window."
"Well, assuming he isn't buried in town, would it be possible for him to travel so far away from his remains just to kill someone."
"Anything's possible." Dean replied before taking another bite and letting out a sound that was practically orgasmic.
"He isn't though." Sam spoke over the top of Dean, distracting Harry from his task of silently measuring the health of Dean's affiliation with the pastry. "He died a year ago in a hit and run. His body was taken to the family crypt here in town."
"That's convenient." Harry grinned "so what do we do now?"
"Now" Sam answered "we wait until it's dark and then do something incredibly illegal."
"Now" Dean continued "we eat."
It had just gone midnight, and Harry found himself standing at the mouth of a grave whilst the two Winchester boys took the first turn of digging. He would let them know that he could empty the grave with a flick of his wand eventually, maybe. It really depended on when it would be his turn and if he was too tired to be bothered with the actual digging or not.
It was about then that they heard it. An anguished, aggressive half cry, half growl as the ghost of a broken bleeding Gregory Turner appeared out of nowhere.
Harry was the first to react pulling out his wand and uttering the first thing that came to mind, a simple expeliarmous that, thank god and all his dicky angels, managed to ride them of the spirits presence with nothing more than a simple flash of light.
Harry instantly fell into his old commanding ways and turned to the boys. "Get out the grave." Such a simple demand but neither bothered arguing, Harry looked like he knew exactly what he was doing and that would just have to be enough.
Dean grabbed the salt gun and grabbed the crowbar before assuming positions that meant they were covering both each other's and Harrys back. It wasn't long before old Greg came back either.
Harry began to wave is wand, muttering furiously in Latin with the occasional burst of French when he screwed up. Charms had never been his strong point, yet by some absolute miracle it wasn't long after he heard the sounds of a fight behind him that the dirt disappeared completely leaving an open grave.
He broke through the lid with ease and then risked a look behind him. Just in time to see Dean hit the ground next to his brother, the only difference being that were Sam was scrambling to grab the fallen crowbar. Harry turned instinctively, already saying a spell before he registered what was actually happening. The little green shot of light slammed into the ghost, temporarily shattering its image.
Grabbing the salt and throwing it all over the rotting remains Harry raised is wand and did a bit of wordless magic, a Seamus special, which he only just managed to stumble back in time to avoid getting burnt.
"Good job Harry." Sam muttered as he began to pick up everything, "I don't suppose there is any way that you can bring the dirt back?"
"I can give it a bit of a try. Is Dean okay?"
"He took a headshot, he'll be fine."
It took half an hour in the end for Harry to figure out how to bring back all the dirt that he had sent to a small tropical island where the locals had eventually come to expect random objects that wizards sent away to appear unexpectedly, but he wasn't to know that.
Ten minutes into the half an hour Dean awoke, and for the next twenty minutes ranted about how Harry probably could of made the dirt disappear before he had gotten muddy and then been attacked. But being honest here Sam and Harry stopped listening after about a minute, only hearing "blah, blah blah swear profanity blah insult blah blah, dull repeating, sailor- would-blush language." Though, considering the things that came out of the tired and dirty Deans mouth, zoning him out was probably the safest option.