A/N So this is a filler chapter that I think we all need. Also, I might be changing the update day to Friday. It depends on how the next few weeks go in terms of time, so keep an eye out for that. Several people have mentioned how I haven't done a good job of straying away from canon, and that's a valid point. I'm going to try and fix that in the next few chapters.
Credit to Meep for convincing me to add a fireplace scene at Bobby's.
As always, unbeta-ed, sorry if I miss any errors.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Supernatural, or anything belonging to J.K. Rowling or Eric Kripke, I'm just using the characters for fun. I receive no money off of this story. Don't sue me.
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Chapter 18: Back to the Roots
SCHWING! The sword cut through the air, just missing the vampire crouched in front of the very bloody witch. Harry almost rolled her eyes when the vampire rolled out of her reach again. She'd already killed the other three vampires in the nest that had been kidnapping children from a nearby town. The last one danced away from her blade, doing unnatural flips and twirls that were almost comical if they weren't so annoying. The man growled at her as he turned into her swing, swiping a hand at her, almost catching her throat with long, grimy nails that were filed into sharp points. Harry crouched instinctively, rolling through his legs and coming up with her sword drawn, spinning immediately. She felt the impact before she heard the squish and thud that told her she'd successfully decapitated the last monster. Taking a moment to catch her breath, Harry looked around the abandoned and now thoroughly bloodied barn.
Ten minutes later, the four bodies were burned and Harry was repairing the door that she'd burst through. The hinges realigned and the levitating door sank into place, leaving Harry free to apparate away from the scene.
The change from humid night to breezy afternoon shocked her senses for a moment, before she shook it off as she headed inside the house, nodding to Bobby in the kitchen.
"How was the salt and burn?" He asked, looking unimpressed. Harry directed her attention to just where his stare was, and saw her shirt. Her bloodspattered shirt.
"Oh."
"Oh."
"Did I say salt and burn? I meant nest of vamps." The look didn't budge. "Alright Bobby, I'm sorry. But you never let me go out on actual hunts!"
"You mean I don't let you go running off half-cocked into hunts where at least two mature hunters are required?"
"I have magic! And I've been training for years! A nest of vamps is nothing compared to fighting a Basilisk or a Magical Werewolf or-"
"Just because your nuthouse of a school has mortal peril on the syllabus doesn't mean you should be going after the same kind of danger outside it. And vampires?!"
"Bobby-"
"Idjit!"
"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I'm not sorry I did it. I can handle these hunts, you just have to give me the chance!" He was silent for a long moment, arms crossed with an unhappy look on his face.
"Fine-"
"Yes!"
"But! You have to tell me what kind of hunts they are, and when you're leaving. There's a backup system for a reason. I know this year has been… tough, but that doesn't mean you get to running off and get yourself killed. Alright kid?" Harry rolled her eyes.
"Alright. Thanks Bobby." Harry nodded again, then moved to walk up the stairs to her room.
"And don't get any of that blood on my floor!" He called after her. She smiled to herself, waving her hand as the blood disappeared. Harry pushed open the door to her bedroom, collapsing on top of the bed in the corner of the room. Some of the blankets and silks from her treehouse were lining the bed, and she took a moment to breathe and relax into the feeling of the soft fabrics before she sat up, crossing her legs and centering herself. Then, she began to meditate.
The end of her third year at Hogwarts reminded her of some goals she'd put into place when she was younger. With the appearance of her godfather and the subsequent revelation that he and her father were Animagi seemed to kickstart her desire to be one as well. She'd compiled research on the process years ago, but had put it aside for some other project. She'd also put away the process of learning Occlumency after some rudimentary work on the subject. Her experiences with Corbyn last year reminded her of her goals on that front as well, so now she was spending more time on accomplishing those objectives. Meditation was an important part of calming the mind and strengthening the weak walls she already had in place, so the practice now occupied a chunk of her time every day. It's really too bad that she's terrible at it.
Harry did the mediation, and clearing her mind wasn't exactly the problem, it was keeping it clear and steady. On a hunt she could focus and devote herself to performing perfectly without distractions, but as soon as she sat down and tried to be still for too long with her only goal being still, it became difficult to keep her mind attentive to that aim. She was relatively successful at clearing her mind that evening, though, and managed an hour of mediation before her subconsciousness took it a step further and sent her to sleep.
Her boots sank into the soft ground with every step, leaves flattening and twigs snapping as her feet darted here and there on the forest floor. A flash of light to her left and deep, disjointed growls to her back. Then there was the feeling of dew droplets on her skin, only they were hot, and instead of the smell of fresh earth, the air was filled with the coppery tint of fresh blood. And there was blood seeping into the soft forest floor, covering her shoes that still sank slightly into the dirt. Her vision was red and black, and there was the sound of gurgling, and-
Harry shot up, slamming the back of her head into the wall when she came out of the slumped position she'd fallen asleep in while meditating.
"Ow! Shit." She grabbed the back of her head, swearing under her breath at the injury and the contents of the dream. Occlumency was supposed to help with excessive dreams, but for some reason it wasn't really working for her, and she was forced to relive some sort of terror every night. It just happened that the death of Corbyn was a particularly persistent nightmare.
"This is stupid," she muttered to herself, rubbing the back of her aching head. She'd been upset about the dreams for the first few weeks after the incident, but a month later it had become more irritating than depressing. She knew, logically, that Corbyn's death was technically his own fault, as it was his rebounded spell, a spell that had the intent to kill her, that killed him. Logically, she shouldn't feel guilty about it, at least not to this extent. Harry knew that she'd actually killed monsters, actually slit their throats or cut off their heads or stabbed them in the heart, but it felt different with Corbyn. A full blooded human, apart from the magical part, but she overlooked that on account of her powers. Harry knew that she'd technically murdered Quirrel, making him her first kill, but the circumstances with Voldemort already draining his life gave that a different perspective too.
So, she knew that she shouldn't be as affected by Corbyn as she was, but it didn't stop the nightmares. So, she did what she usually did when she had to blow off some steam.
Harry grabbed her coat, leaving a note for Bobby in the kitchen as she apparated away to another potential case she'd researched, a simple salt and burn this time. She'd be back by morning anyway, and she needed to get rid of the image of a bloodied corpse imprinted on her eyelids.
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Lost in the cycle of hunt after hunt, Harry was surprised when she opened the door to leave on another hunt (Bobby said it was rude to appear and disappear in the house) and was met with the Winchesters, Dean's fist ready to knock as the door swung open.
"Did that divi-whatsit class tell you when we were coming?" Dean asked. Harry slapped his shoulder, then pulled him into a hug, repeating the latter with Sam. When she was done greeting them, she straightened up and raised an eyebrow.
"You know, you could have told me you were coming." Sam and Dean traded a look.
"Harry, we always come over on your birthday." Oh. Right. Harry hid the fact that she had completely forgotten her birthday in the passing of time by hunts rather than any formal calendar.
"Still, calling ahead and all…" Dean rolled his eyes at her. She stepped aside to let them into the house, watching as they went through the regular checks with Bobby. He'd become slightly more paranoid after a hunt in Fort Wayne where a shapeshifter assumed the identity of a person for weeks while slowly torturing their family and friends, who assumed it was that person committing the crimes. He'd instilled a mandatory holy water shot and passing of the silver rosary after killing the shifter. Once they'd passed the tests the three of them headed to the living room, Dean sprawling across the couch before Sam could find a spot. Harry waved her hand and rolled her eyes, an invisible force grabbing Dean's legs and swinging them around and off the cushions, inciting a yelp of surprise from the boy in question and a small chuckle from his brother.
"So, what've you guys been doing?"
"Same old." Dean answered, taking a handful of cereal from a box that Harry had left on the coffee table earlier. "Your owl freaked out a maid. It just swooped in, and Sammy here jumped up and went to get the scroll because he's obsessed. Meanwhile, I'm standing there with this lady, about to ask for extra shampoo, and she just screams and bolts. She left her cart, though, so I got the shampoo and some more towels."
"That's strange. Hedwig usually knows not to drop things off in front of other people."
"Okay, we might have set it up so that the maid would catch a glimpse of the mail drop. But hey, it worked." Harry just shook her head in amusement. "How's your life been going? Have you killed another legendary monster? The werewolf letter was surprising, but Dad runs into werewolves a lot."
"Well, I did leave out some other… events of the year. Even with the spells I put on the letters, there's always the chance of interception."
"You're starting to sound as paranoid as Bobby."
"Can you blame me?"
"Did you kill another Basilisk?" Sam cut in, his eyes huge and excited.
"Ever heard of dementors?" The rest of the afternoon passed relatively easily, with Harry talking about the different monsters she'd encountered that year. The boys were especially interested by the Men of Letters, at least until she shared their views on hunters.
"Dickheads." Harry nodded at Dean. After dinner and some cake, they went back to the couch for movie night, a tradition at that point. About halfway through The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Dean turned to Harry on the couch. "So where did your godfather go?" Harry answered without taking her eyes off the screen.
"I'm not really sure. He said he was moving around a lot, something about trying to find himself, and I think he went somewhere tropical because this toucan delivered a letter once. I mentioned that he could try hiding out in the US. They didn't have the same panic when he escaped."
"You told him you lived here?"
"No. I don't really trust him yet, I guess." She turned her head so that only he could hear. "He spent over a decade in a prison without happiness, or any normal feelings, supposedly surviving on obsession alone, so I don't think he's psychologically stable at the moment, which isn't the best state for a person you want to entrust secrets to. I think he needs some time to process what happened, and he wouldn't touch the subject of therapy. Not that I can blame him." She took a moment to eat a handful of popcorn. "I offered the US logically, but he doesn't know I live here. As far as he's concerned, I'm still with the Dursleys."
"Huh."
"Yah."
"And he can turn into a dog?"
"Yah."
"Cool."
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Sam and Dean only stayed for about a week after her birthday. In that week, another prank war had almost begun but Dean was caught by Bobby before he could fully plastic wrap Harry's doorway. Unfortunately for him, Harry found out about the attempt, so when they were leaving, she charmed Dean's shirt to get progressively more uncomfortable, a spell that would last for a few days. She almost regretted it when his face fell while getting picked up by a dour looking John Winchester. Harry thought he looked like a hunter more and more lately. Unfortunately, it appeared he was becoming less of a father.
A day or so after the Winchesters rode off in their Impala, Rufus came to visit Bobby. He still acted as though Harry was devil-spawn, but she thought that might be an act because he came with a birthday gift for her. A file folder was plopped down in the middle of a kitchen table, holding the research for a Shojo case.
Okay, maybe he did still think she was untrustworthy. She was working on it.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Bobby shouted.
"She's fourteen, I'm sure she can handle a drink or two-"
"No, you idjit! I'm against the alcool, sure-"
"Hypocrite," Harry coughed into her hand.
"But I was thinking more about the razor sharp claws that they disembowel people with." He glared at Rufus.
"Come on Bobby! Shojos are Japanese monsters, who knows when I'm going to get the chance to kill one again?"
"No." He crossed his arms.
"Please?"
"You want me to say it again in Japanese? Īe." Harry rolled her eyes. Deep down, though, she knew it was probably a bad idea to see how her powers would work while drunk.
"Fine." Rufus grabbed the folder off the table and stalked to the door. Bobby followed.
"You aren't going after that by yourself, you hard-headed imbecile. This is at least a two-man job."
"Well-"
"Harriet!"
"Sorry."
"I'm going with him." Bobby stated, glaring at Rufus when he tried to interject. "I'll be back soon. Don't destroy the house. And no hunts!"
"Bobby!"
"Fine, no special hunts." Harry frowned but nodded, giving him a quick hug before darting upstairs.
"Weird kid."
"Just get in the car. Idjits, everywhere."
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Harry continued her pattern of going on a hunt, collapsing in bed to meditate, struggling to ignore the mandrake leaf under her tongue (she'd accidentally swallowed the first one a day before the month was up), and researching new hunts before the cycle repeated itself. And, slowly but surely, the guilt over Corbyn's death receded from a strong presence to a lingering thought. Subsequently, Harry was in a good mood when Ron's letter arrived, and she easily convinced Bobby to let her go to the Quidditch Cup when he got back from the Shojo hunt muttering about bad decisions and 'useless, drunken hunters'.
She considered his question about picking her up. The only method she could imagine would work was by Floo, and she wasn't sure Bobby's house could handle that. Harry took a moment to think about how that might go.
The firepit roared green, startling Bobby out of his seat. He raised his shotgun at the man stepping out of his fire, cocking it while kicking a placemat with a devil's trap painted on it across the floor. The man's eyes widened, and his wand moved to point at Bobby, placing them in a standoff. Then the fire flashed two more times, spitting out identical redheads, who also raised their wands.
"Put them down or I'll blow you full of so much rocksalt that you'll crap margaritas for a week!" Hearing the yelling, Harry ran downstairs with her knife out, watching as Ron fell out of her fireplace and into the twins, who in turn jumped around and pointed their wands at their brother, who was busy rubbing ash out of his eyes while Bobby and Mr. Weasley were in a tense standoff.
It would be a disaster. Plus, she didn't really want to reveal her summer home to more people than necessary. She was better off apparating and explaining it away with...something. She'd figure it out.
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Of course, now that Harry felt better and her Corbyn dreams were lessening, something else had to go wrong. She woke up with a jolt, almost falling out of bed as she tried to catch her breath, the flash of green light still invading her sight. Of course her nightmares had to verge into Voldemort territory, because he couldn't take a fucking break when it came to her life. She rubbed her eyes before reaching for her hunter's journal on her bedside table. Recording the dream, Harry fell back against the covers, satisfied that she wouldn't forget anything while she got herself under control.
She considered writing Sirius, but really, what could he do? Harry sat up, feeling considerably better after taking a breath, but still anxious about her dream and irritated that her occlumency wasn't helping her with the nightmares. And she thought it was a nightmare, but everything was so clear and sharp that she had a strange feeling that something more was going on. The same feeling that urged her to write down the dream before it left her mind.
It was three in the morning, according to Harry's alarm clock, and she knew she wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon. So, she returned to something that she'd neglected too much in the wake of her stress last year. She summoned some of the supplemental reading books she'd purchased when looking for occlumency instruction tomes. Harry crossed her legs, propping her back against the wall, before she opened the first book and turned to the chapter about dreams. She noticed that some fo the information bore a resemblance to a case her Grandmother had worked while she was a part of the Men of Letters. Harry had been going through Rose Evans' journal since it was given to her, but the amount of detail and the number of cases she'd worked made it a long read. Harry appreciated that, though, because of the extra data it gave her. And now she had an idea about how to figure out her dream problem. Thanks Grandma.
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The day came that she was to leave for the Quidditch Cup, and Harry got up at the more comfortable hour of seven am, rather than 5 am like she might on September 1st. The Weasley's would be housing her until then, so she could say goodbye to Bobby with him more alert than he might have been usually.
"Stay out of trouble." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You know what I mean." Harry disappeared as she stepped out the front door, reappearing in an alley outside the Leaky Cauldron. After walking in and paying to use the floo, she arrived in the Weasley's fireplace with five minutes to spare. She was immediately swamped by bushy brown hair, which traded with a mop of ginger after a second.
"Harry!" After the enthusiastic hugs from her friends, Harry was free to see a group of redheads sitting around what she assumed was the kitchen table. Introductions were made to those she didn't already know, namely Bill and Charlie. Bill turned out to not be an older Percy, which she appreciated. Soon enough, they were going off to play Quidditch, Harry wisely declining a sweet from her teammate Fred.
When they went back inside, Harry got her first look at the outside of their home. The Weasley's house looked like several different houses mushed together and stacked on top of each other, and she loved it. The company was great, too, and she barely noticed the time slipping by until they were sent to bed.
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The next morning was a blur, and Harry was only properly conscious once they were halfway through their walk to the Portkey. Granted, someone dropping out of a tree would make anyone jump, and Harry almost jumped into fight mode. The figure straightened up into the form of Cedric Diggory, and Harry relaxed. She traded glances with Hermione and Ginny, both of which had pink cheeks that could be explained by the exertion of the hike. Harry hoped she didn't look the same.
Finally reaching the top of the hill, Harry stopped and spun in a circle, enjoying the view of the roving hills covered in green grass and patches of wildflowers in every direction. She was disappointed to look away to grab a manky old boot. The tug in her gut a few moments later intensified this disappointment. She much preferred apparition to Portkey travel.
"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill."
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The campgrounds were amazing. Not that they were particularly fancy or easily navigable, but the sheer number and variety of tents made the place feel more magical. Even having to walk across the grounds to get a pail of water the muggle way didn't damper her mood, especially with the amusement that the trio enjoyed from people watching along the way.
With the sunset came the mass exodus of witches and wizards from the campgrounds to the stadium concealed somewhere in the woods. Harry knew there must have been hundreds of anti-muggle spells on the contraption, because the size alone would attract attention, not to mention the lightshow and the noise of the crowd as they all took their seats. She sat between Ron and Hermione, staring at the pitch through the omnioculars she'd purchased for the group. Harry's mood was only slightly ruined by the appearance of Fudge and the Malfoys.
"Minister Fudge," Malfoy the Elder began, "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife Narcissa? Or my son Draco?"
"Oh, how do you do? This is Minister Oblansk, my Bulgarian counterpart. Don't mind him, our translators up and disappeared, he doesn't understand a word I'm saying. And of course you know the Weasleys, if I'm correct."
"Good Lord Arthur." Malfoy looked down his nose at their entire row. "Did you have to sell your house for these seats? Not that it would be a pity…" Harry raised an eyebrow, making eye contact with Draco before looking back to Malfoy.
"Read any good books lately Mr. Malfoy? There was a biographical journal written by, I think his name was Riddle. It was fascinating."
"Oh, Miss Potter!" Fudge seemed to finally realise she was there. "It's good to see you again. Oh," He turned to the Bulgarian Minister. "This is Harriet Potter, um, POT-TER." Fudge waved his hands around helplessly, stopping when the minister and his associates gasped and started pointing at her forehead, babbling in Bulgarian. "Knew they'd get there eventually." The small talk trailed off as Ludo Bagman entered the room and started the commentating. The mascots walked onto the field, creating a comedic scene with the men in the box. Harry made no effort to control her laughter when Draco started moving towards the balcony edge but was restrained by an unimpressed Lucius. And then the match had begun.
Harry was entranced by the flow of the Irish team, but Krum was the player to watch, and as a Seeker she was taking plenty of mental notes. She might have criticised Lynch for falling for the Wronski Feints and injuring himself because of it. She might have wondered over Lynch's qualifications as a professional player, but Krum was just that good.
The match ended with Krum catching the Snitch, and the Weasley twins several galleons wealthier. Then the players were coming up into the box, and Harry was as close to bouncing in excitement as she'd ever been. And then the Bulgarian minister had started a conversation in English, making her night even better with the decline of Fudge's.
Everything was going amazingly, so of course it couldn't last. She was shoved out of the tent with the younger Weasleys, while the older generation ran off to fight the hordes of masked witches and wizards, being careful of the floating muggles. Harry's face darkened as she saw the crowd of what she knew to be Death Eaters, and she was moving to follow the other Weasley's and attack them, when Ron and Hermione pulled her back by her shirt, their eyes scared. She turned and led them to the safety of the woods.
Ron tripped as they were hurrying through the woods, swearing as he brushed off his dirtied palms.
"Language, Weasley." Draco Malfoy appeared out of the gloom, leaning against a tree trunk. Harry saw panic in his eyes behind the crumbling cool facade. "Wouldn't want them to spot her, would you?" He nodded towards Hermione, who recoiled somewhat.
"What do you mean?" Ron demanded. Draco glanced around quickly, looking back and attempting his signature smirk.
"Are you really to stupid to realise who they're after?" Harry knew, but she realised that Ron and Hermione might not know that these were Death Eaters. Harry nodded at Malfoy when he looked at her, then grabbed Ron and Hermione's arms and pulled them further into the forest.
"Bloody hell!" Ron whisper-yelled.
"What?!" Harry whipped around with her wand out, sweeping it across the darkened woods.
"I've lost my wand!" Well that wasn't good.
"You've got your charm bracelet?" Ron nodded. "Pull off the knife. It's got a core of unicorn hair, so it might work to cast some simpler spells. It was something I was experimenting on." Ron nodded, pulling off the charm, his knuckles white around the handle as it enlarged.
"Okay." Harry stopped after walking a while more. They were alone, having passed the groups of people seeking refuge in the forest. Back to back, wands out, stay alert. They're probably not coming this far in, but it doesn't hurt to be ready. Plus, we're in a pretty dense forest that's in prime condition to house a few monsters." They were silent for a few minutes, eyes darting through the trees as their sights accustomed to the darkness stretching beyond the light of Harry's lumos. It had just occurred to her that she should darken the light so no one could see their exact position when a deep voice shouted from her left.
"MORSMORDRE!" Harry shot off a stunner while projecting a shield around them, spinning quickly as Ron and Hermione turned shoulder to shoulder with their wand and knife aimed in the direction of the spell. Harry was distracted by a cloud of green light in the sky that was slowly forming into a skull. A spectral snake slither through the mouth of the skull, leaving a ghastly signal floating in the sky over the woods.
"Harry," Hermione whispered. "That's You-Know-Who's sign. That's the Dark Mark!" She was breathing quickly now, but Harry ordered Ron to look after Hermione while she went to check the spot that she'd sent a stunner to. Before she could leave the group, the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up, and she grabbed Ron and Hermione and yanked them down as a chorus of 'Stupefy' sent dozens of red beams towards them.
She moved her hands to send a wave of magic back at the casters, but was stopped by the voice of Arthur Weasley as he pushed through the ring of apparent officials.
"Stop! That's my son!" Ten minutes later and a large buildup of frustration for the government, Harry was sitting in the living room of the Weasley's tent, nursing a cup of tea with Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny in a similar fashion.
"Poor Winky." Everyone ignored Hermione.
"But if they were Death Eaters, why would they disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" Ron wondered.
"They were Death Eaters. That's the point. They've spent thirteen years living outside of prison, probably because they either gave up their allies, or lied their way out of their prison charges. If I were Voldemort," Harry ignored the expected shudder that passed through the room. "I would want to make them pay."
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Mr. Heller: I might not have done the best job with bringing Ron and Hermione into the fold, but I felt like it was a logical next step for Harry, who is trying to trust her friends more. Regarding the Men of Letters, she doesn't think no Supernatural deaths in forty years is bad, she just dissaproves of the inner attitudes of the organization. She hates corruption, so she has some strong feelings against the Men of Letters at this point. At this point I don't think she's aiming for complete shut down, maybe just reform? The plot point is pretty new so I'm still working it out.
Meep: The Rosemary thing is a Rosemary's baby reference. It's not a perfect reference, but I think it made Harry happy just because of how angry Meg was when she used it. And for the angels, we'll see. I'm unsure about Harry's date to the Yule Ball, at this point I'm going to let the stroy write itself when it comes to that. I think that Harry uses her wand sometimes, if only to have some sort of signature recorded, but it could also be a way to limit her power. If she didn't want to mess up a spell when she's emotional, I think she would use the wand to limit the amount of power put into it. It also probably helps with the intricacies of certain spells if she can't focus in the moment. It would be cool if she was transported to the Supernatural universe. I might explore that during a Loki/Gabriel episode. That Peter dilemma is interesting isn't it? And we'll see about the textbook. I love the comments about the Horcrux. They're fun.
mackiechandler: Thanks, hopefully I can continue that.
Seraphy64: Firstly about the name, I've written some other excerpts of Fem!Harry stories with her having a different name, and a few twin ones, and I usually do like Fem!Harry stories where she has a different name, but I felt like this one needed a Harriet. I'm sorry if you felt like this was lazy, but the other names that I tried out in the beginning didn't really fit with her character. I might upload another Fem!Harry story in the future, and if I do it won't be the same name, I just felt like Harry fit this situation. About me sticking too closely to canon, you're right. This is my first published fanfiction, and the only one that I've taken this far, so it's a little scary for me to diverge from canon. I'm going to try to take the story in a separate direction from the original though, so thanks for calling me out on that because I've got an index card net to me with possible divergences now. The logic of my story in some of the chapters doesn't really work well, I know. I'm working on that too, but I don't want to change the earlier chapters and get rid of any of my early mistakes.
Zasha the Cat: You're right about the plot being too close to canon. I need to work on that, so I'll thank you like I did the reviewer above because now I've got some more ideas on how to fix that in the future.
duchessliz: I'll just say I'm not ever going to pair Harry and Gabriel in this story. I have reasons. Sorry. As for the Horcrux... Who knows at this point?