Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that is original material is mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant ideas first.

Genre: Action/Drama/Suspense/Romance

Rating: MA (for a reason)

Warning: Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry (except for the back-story that occurred before Season 1). All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

Summary: The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

Chapter 1:

"Then"

"He's come a long way in life,

he's got a long way to go,

and he don't even know,

but he doesn't care because

he's growing up the hard way."

- Foreigner, Growing Up The Hard Way

Upon his returning to the land of the conscious, Harry's first thought was, why is it always a graveyard?

Harry had awoken from purgatory next to a small headstone. At first he felt the panic that his nightmares from his fourth year had returned with a vengeance, but this was not the same graveyard. The other aspect of his situation that Harry noticed, was that he was completely naked.

Harry had never been so thankful for his wandless magic ability. Waking up naked, desolate, and alone in yet another graveyard tended to make him feel grateful for transfigured clothing. One tree branch and three rocks later and Harry had a full set of clothes and hiking boots to make his way out of… wherever he was.

Not knowing where he was or how far he was from home, Harry felt apparating might be a bit of a risk. He was pretty sure that whatever force had sent him to his current destination had not been kind enough to leave him a broom since clothes were apparently not a thought.

Behind him was a massive structure that appeared to be some kind of mausoleum. It was obviously very old and, based on the height of the grass surrounding it, not very well kept. The air in front of the door seemed to shimmer, like truck exhaust in sunlight. Harry reached out with his magical "sense" and felt sick. There was something just plain evil trapped within the structure.

For the first time in his life, Harry turned and walked in the other direction of evil.

He followed the uneven trail between headstones until he reached a man-made dirt road. At the mouth of the road was a large iron gate. Harry read the words backward that declared he was inside "Kripke Cemetery."

"Wherever the hell that is," he muttered, already climbing over the locked gate.

THREE HOURS LATER…

"So how'd you end up way out here anyhow?"

Harry looked at his traveling companion, Buck, the truck driver he'd been able to wave down after an hour with his thumb in the air. Harry shrugged.

"Same old, same old, I guess," Harry said dispassionately. "Road tripping with friends. We got in a fight, I bailed."

"Road tripping all the way from merry-old England?"

"Well I had to see the great state of Wyoming at some point, right?" asked Harry, knowing full well how much Buck prided himself on being born there.

"Hell, yeah, you did!"

Buck turned up the music and began signing along to some rock song. Harry didn't care much for it, but that just made it easier for him to tune it out in his head. Harry wondered why he would be dropped in the middle of Wyoming, USA of all places. Merlin forbid he be left naked in a penthouse in Malibu or something.

During his three hour walk, Harry began to truly realize the plight of his situation. He had no money, no clothing beyond what he had transfigured, no place to live, and no practical experience in this new world.

What if his godfather had chosen to live in a world where there was no cheese or something? Or a world where everyone used fire hydrants instead of toilets? The padfoot side of his Sirius' personality would have found that appealing. Harry wasn't sure he even existed in this world.

He needed answers, and he needed them sooner rather than later.

"…sweet tasty lady of mine!" Buck finished singing along to the music, before turning the volume dial down. "So where are you staying tonight, Harry?"

"I'm not sure honestly," answered Harry. "I guess a hotel or something."

"Well, there's a place we truckers like that isn't too cheap and isn't too expensive, you know?"

Harry nodded along regardless. "That sounds great."

"Goooood," said Buck, drawing out the vowels. "I'm looking forward to buying you a stiff one."

Harry hoped his smile didn't reveal the disgust hidden beneath. He had no illusions about why Buck had been the first person to stop and offer him a ride. Over the last two years at Hogwarts Harry had really begun to fill into himself. His training with the ministry kept him in good shape, and the publicist that Scrimgeour hired had taught him how to appear more attractive.

Harry remembered meeting Lucy for the first time.

"Harry," Scrimgeour called, "this is Lucy. Lucy, this is the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry let the Minister squeeze his shoulder to demonstrate their familiarity in front of the new stranger. Rufus had found Harry's fame with the press to be a godsend during the darkest parts of the war.

Unknown to the Minister, his plan to appear close to Harry would be his untimely undoing. Voldemort incorrectly assumed that the man's death would emotionally cripple Harry and had the politician assassinated.

"A pleasure, Harry," said Lucy, her Australian accent ringing true.

"Lucy is from the PR department, Harry," Rufus explained in answer to the unspoken question in Harry's gaze.

"PR as in Public Relations?"

"You didn't think we'd only be training you to fight did you, my boy?" asked Rufus, his deep laugh booming throughout the room. "You're in the public eye now, Harry. We can't have you running around in those hand-me-downs anymore."

Harry had fought the clothing thing for awhile, but eventually he realized how much nicer it was to not be in Dudley's clothing that were several sizes too large.

A few months later, Lucy confided in Harry that she was the youngest girl in the PR department.

"That's why they gave the job to me, you see," she informed him. "I have a youthful eye so I simply must know all the new trends and fashion statements."

"You do though, right?" Harry asked nervously.

"I do what, Harry?"

"Know the trends and stuff. I don't want look any more foolish than I need to."

Lucy giggled and slapped his arm lightly.

"Don't fret, Harry. When I'm done with you, you'll be fending those hot young wizards off at wand point."

She laughed until she realized her mistake. One look at Harry's pale face, and she knew she had misspoke.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I never meant to imply ---"

"No, Lucy, it's fine," he said shakily. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Don't worry, it's not stapled to your forehead or anything," she said, comfortingly. "My older brother, Jack, back in Brisbane, he likes blokes, too."

"So I act gay," Harry muttered miserably. "That's so much better."

"Well it's only obvious because you never try to look down my shirt," Lucy said, all joking aside. "I can't tell you how many times I bend down to tailor pant legs and people take a peek."

Harry cracked a smile.

"So I'll have my pick of blokes then?" he quoted her teasingly.

"Absolutely."

Harry realized the truck was slowing, and in the distance he could see the glare of a neon sign.

"You nodded off there a bit, Harry," Buck said. "I was gonna wake you, but you looked so… comfortable."

Harry was suddenly reminded of Lucy's comment about men taking glances at her when they didn't think she was looking. He shivered.

"Thanks, Buck."

There's no way I'm staying at the same hotel as this guy, Harry promised himself.

The moment the truck slowed enough to jump out safely, Harry mumbled a quick thanks and was out the door.

The motel lobby was disgusting. The counter hadn't been cleaned in years, and the smell was beyond foul. Harry didn't even bother making pleasantries with the motel clerk. He eyed the rack of U.S. maps and tourist brochures until he found one that looked promising.

He snagged the brochure for Mt. Rushmore and marched out the double doors, back into the parking lot. At the far end of the lot, Buck was cussing a storm and had only just parked.

Harry ducked behind the nearest car, pictured the map location in his mind and disappeared with the faintest 'pop'.

4 DAYS LATER…

Harry appeared outside of Kings Cross Station completely undetected.

Harry began testing himself for signs of splinching. After several minutes of what must have appeared to be sexual groping, he was satisfied that there were no body parts missing.

Over the last several days he had been jumping from one time zone to the next, taking his time so as to never tire himself out. So far this world appeared to be identical to his own. He couldn't afford to be magically exhausted in case some new danger appeared out of nowhere. Apparently his war training hadn't been left behind in his old world.

Harry mentally shook his head clear off thoughts about his old world. That part of his life was over, his father had even said so in purgatory. Besides, he had a job to do here.

As the afternoon rush kicked in, Harry joined the swarm of flowing people. His seeker skills allowed him to flow between individuals faster than the crowds around him. He slowed his pace as he reached Platform 9 ¾.

The American newspaper had told him it was July 2002, so he wasn't expecting any Hogwarts students to be milling around. It still didn't stop him from eyeing a pair of teenagers hanging around Platform 8 suspiciously. He took comfort in the presence of the familiar security guard that always seemed so annoyed with his job.

Harry made sure no one was looking, before heading confidently towards the magical entrance to the Hogwarts Express and then…

The barrier smacked him full-on in the face, knocking him down onto the stone platform.

A crowd gathered around him.

The angry security guard approached muttering something unintelligible.

"Are you alright?" someone asked.

The two teenagers at Platform 8 began to giggle.

Harry's hope was hanging on by a thread, and an urgent suspicion bloomed within him. No longer caring who was witness to the event, Harry barely made it out of sight before apparating. As it was, he heard the two teenagers gasp before he was fully gone.

When he re-materialized he was in a thick forest in Scotland. He cried out in frustration and apparated again.

This time he was back in Muggle London at the phone booth that served as the public entrance to the ministry of magic. Harry threw open the door and lifted up the phone with such force that the cord almost snapped free.

There was no voice on the other end.

Harry used his magical "sense" to feel for the magical controls that caused the shaft to open. He felt none.

Taking another shot to prove his suspicion wrong, he apparated to the street outside The Leaky Cauldron. His magical sight revealed nothing between the two Muggle shops.

In one last desperate attempt, Harry found himself outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. Not 12 Grimmauld Place that magically revealed himself, but the normal, everyday 12 Grimmauld Place that was always visible to the world.

Harry felt his legs give out beneath him. He ignored the pain of his tailbone hitting the cement sidewalk.

At that moment Harry knew exactly what his godfather had wished for.

After a lifetime of warring wizards, dark magic, death, soul-sucking Dementors, wrongful imprisonment, death veils, and killing curses his godfather had blamed his plight in life on one thing: magic.

At that moment Harry felt such a fool. He had been so desperate to find the one person he never could have, that he had traded his entire world for the slim hope of finding his godfather.

He was alone and, for the first time since his 3rd Year, Harry hated his godfather. Sirius had left him with one cold, chilling truth until the day he died:

Sirius had wished for a world without wizards.

WORD COUNT: 2,019