Unfound

Chapter Thirty-Four

Sam wasn't one to waste daylight. He was up by six every morning for a run followed by a hot shower and then straight to whatever the case of the week was.

Only, this morning, during his run, he couldn't help but feel like the case of the week was right there in the Bunker. Something was happening. He couldn't quite place his thumb on it, but it bothered him. He had thought that he would be able to figure it out with Dean and Harry out but it hadn't been enough time.

Which was why he was currently combing through headlines on his laptop trying to find something that could keep his brothers out for longer. Without being too obvious about it.

It was in the weather reports that he found what he was looking for. Electrical storms in Marion, Iowa. It was a start. It had been a long time since demonic signs had been so…obvious. That suggested something big.

He continued his search.

Oh. This was…

Sam debated if he needed to go himself. This pattern was super alarming and beyond one single case. This was no longer just about having time alone in the Bunker. He pulled out his cell phone.

"Thank you for phoning Crowley, King of Hell," came on. "For demon deals press one…" Sam hung up. That was a bad sign as well.

III

Killing a hellhound had hurt Crowley's feelings more than he had anticipated it would. After the bitches had abandoned him for Lucifer, he didn't think that he cared.

There were many things that he ought not to care about yet here he was.

He blamed the Winchesters.

And his mother. (His mother was to blame for everything, at the end of the day.)

Still, it had to be done. And soon enough, these dogs wouldn't have much of a purpose anyway.

But now, he had to do something that he hated even more than killing one of his pets.

He had to go to Hell.

As King of Hell, he had avoided the place as much as possible. Being King in Hell didn't come with the same perks and luxuries as exercising his power and privilege did topside. Demons were exhausting. They were always on and on about what you would do for them if they did as they were told and the second someone offered something better, off they went.

Topside, if you paid someone enough cold, hard, cash, they didn't ask questions. They didn't switch loyalties. And, if they did, they could just be disposed of and they weren't a problem anymore. Not that Crowley was hesitant to get rid of demons either, but killing the wrong one could result in drama and political intrigue and all the things that he had used to enjoy that he now just found tedious.

"Sire," a breathless, eager, sycophantic, minion demon of no importance, greeted him. "We didn't expect you back, it's only been a couple of…"

Crowley held his hand up and the demon wisely shut up but continued to follow him.

"Can I be of any assistance?" the demon worked up the courage to ask him after he had followed the King for some time in silence.

"No," Crowley growled. He hesitated a second. "Well, actually…"

"Anything, my liege," the demon said.

"Not that I couldn't find him on my own, but you could save me a considerable amount of time. Do you happen to know the location of one Kevin Tran?"

The demon stopped walking, surprised. "I – well, I don't know, but I've heard…didn't you order him left alone?"

Crowley had. He had been as surprised as the next guy when the prophet's soul had been sent here after being in the veil for so long. He didn't know what possessed the man to decide to move on. But he was the perfect target for the next step.

He had ordered for the kid to be left alone – he wasn't interested in having his soul demonized. Especially since he harbored hate for Crowley specifically. (Which, quite frankly, was annoying. All he had done was torture him a little. He hadn't even killed his mother when he had the chance! If anything, that little twerp should be grateful towards him.) He had also specifically not asked where he was so that the temptation wasn't there.

But if the Winchesters caught wind of what he was up to (and Crowley wasn't naïve enough to believe they wouldn't) then they could hardly protest him releasing their friend from Hell. Crowley was sure that the boy was a so-called innocent that would fulfill what he needed for the spell.

"Well?" He asked the demon who had still not responded.

"I can find out, my lord, of course."

"See that you do. I'll be waiting."

The demon scampered off. This might be easier than I thought it would be, Crowley thought to himself. It was good to be the King.

III

"This is incredible," Mary said after Peter had finished showing her around the camp that had been created for the remaining witches and wizards in Limbo. From the outside, it just looked like more forest, but when they passed the threshold, the space had transformed. It was a small clearing, surrounded by trees in a perfect circle. There were the oddest-looking tents that Mary had ever seen. Garishly bright quilts in hideous patterns floated in mid-air over old-fashioned and messily made bed frames. At least enough space for fifty people, although there seemed to be just about a dozen people milling about.

"It's the best we could come up with," Peter said. "Our magic – it's failing us. We depend on fresh witches and wizards from Purgatory to maintain the spell work. But it's home. For now."

An older gentleman with white hair that must have once been blonde and sharp blue eyes came up to them. "Pettigrew. Is that the newest arrival? I thought after we got five in yesterday that no more could come through."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "No, she's not a witch."

The man drew back. "You brought a demon in here? How? Why? Why isn't it bound in chains? Did you break the wards? You know, we took you at your word, after Black disappeared, even though if he…"

"She's not a demon, Laurence," Peter interrupted, looking annoyed. "She's a Muggle."

"A Muggle?"

"Yeah."

Understanding dawned on his face. "This is her?"

"Yes."

The man's face transformed from anger to excitement so quickly that it almost gave Mary whiplash.

"Thank Merlin," he said, reaching his hand out, which Mary backed away from. He pulled it back again, but he still looked really happy. He thumped Peter on the back. "You know, I didn't think you had it in you. You'd been gone for so long that we thought you must've been taken. But you did it, didn't you champ?"

Peter looked annoyed. "Yes. Now, if you'd please…"

"Mrs. Winchester, it's an honor," he said, giving her a little bow because she seemed disinclined to take his hand. "We've heard so much about you."

Mary was more than a little perturbed. "From where?"

The man looked taken aback. "Surely you know. Oh dear, I had heard that they wiped the minds of Muggles in the colonies, but I thought, surely…"

Mary crossed her arms over her chest. "I know a lot of things," she said. "Is this about one of my sons?"

The man blinked at her. "You have more than one? I suppose it's not shocking you had other…progeny. Of course, only one of them matters, in the grand scheme of things. Oh, I see why you might not trust us. Don't you worry – most of us that came from Purgatory are from before the unpleasantness of the Mudblood who styled himself as a Dark Lord. We bear no ill will, no ill will at all, towards the young Mr. Potter. A powerful wizard is always to be revered…"

"That's quite enough, Laurance," Peter said. "We really must be getting on. I promised…"

"Right, oh right, of course, why didn't you just say so, my good man? On your way," he nodded once more towards Mary and walked off.

Peter gestured for Mary to keep going.

"No, how did that man know who I am?"

Peter looked hesitant.

"I'm not taking one step further until you tell me," she threatened. "Now that I know what's out there, I'm sure that I could strike out on my own."

"You can't do that," Peter blurted out.

She raised an eyebrow, refusing to be intimidated. "Are you keeping me prisoner?"

"No, no, of course not, I'd never dream, it's just that'd he'd be angry if…"

"Who'd be angry?"

"Mary!" Came a loud voice from behind her, she turned. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! Come, we don't have a lot of time. Won't be long before Uciferlay omescay ookinglay and I have a lot to catch you up on it."

Mary just sort of stared at him. She was sure that he had to have been killed. She asked the first, dumb, question that came to her mind, "Since when do Archangels speak Pig Latin?"

III

"Sam, it is five o'clock in the morning. You better be dead. Or I'm gonna kill you," Dean growled when his phone rang.

"Rough night?" Came the overly cheerful voice on the other side of the line. "And it's actually eleven."

"Screen's too bright to look at," Dean replied. It was dark in the motel room because they had completely drawn the curtains closed. "What do you want?"

"I have something for you, but if you're too hungover…"

"What?"

"Is Harry there?"

Dean glanced over to the bed next to his. Harry was spread out like a starfish, facedown, snoring lightly. He was still in the clothes that he had worn the night before, his glasses hanging off his left ear. "Yeah. But he's out."

"Well, you'll want to wake him up. Soon. I've made an appointment for him at a local tattoo parlor for 11:45."

None of this was making any sense to Dean. "What? Why?"

"'Cause of the case I've caught wind of," Sam said. "I think there's something demonic happening just outside of Grand Rapids."

"Iowa?" Dean needed coffee. Or another beer. And bacon. Or some combination of all three.

"Yeah. You're only about five hours away, the session I booked was for three hours and the guy said he could get it done, so you can make it there by the early evening."

"Are you friggin' kidding me?" He yelled.

Harry shot up, scrambling to untangle himself from the blankets around him, falling out of bed. Comically, he tried to get to his feet, only to fall back on the bed. "What's happening?" He slurred.

"Now you've gone and woken Harry up," Dean said to Sam on the phone.

"Good. Pump him full of coffee and then get on the road. I'll call you back with more details this afternoon. Dean – this is a big one." Sam hung up.

Harry was back on his feet but looked less than alert. "Sam, ok?"

"Yeah. He just found an actual case for us."

Harry looked at Dean with disbelief. "I don't think – " he didn't even finish the sentence before he ran to the bathroom.

Dean sighed as he heard the sounds of Harry puking his guts out. This was going to be fun.

III

It had all started Sam poured himself his normal afternoon cup of coffee. He had skipped this morning's dose because he had gotten so caught up with research. But now he had moved back to trying to figure out what was happening with both Harry and the Bunker. Somehow, he felt like it might be connected to the case.

He was reading a book, so he was only half paying attention while he brewed the pot. He noticed the bag was feeling a little light and made a mental note to add coffee to the shopping list. (If he had stopped to think about it, he would have realized that he had just bought a new bag a couple days ago.)

He was paying even less attention when he poured it into his cup but swore loudly when the hot liquid scalded his hand and his leg from where it had overflowed.

Glancing around after cleaning up the mess he had made, Sam confirmed that there were no impressionable young men around to see him pour sugar into the cup. It was the one place in his life where he could not stand to cut out sugar. And artificial sweeteners just made the bitter taste of coffee somehow worse.

He was getting to a particularly fascinating section – this was a theoretical paper written by the Men of Letters about where Grace was stored in a human vessel – when he took a sip.

"What the fuck!" He yelled as he tore the cup away from his mouth. "Bleh!" Instead of the slightly sweetened life-giving substance, he had just had the very unpleasant experience of not only tasting something that wasn't what he wasn't expecting, but it was also one of the worst things he had ever tasted. Hot, salty, bitter, water that had the faint aroma of tea. "TEDDY!" He roared.

It was about to get up and find the prankster himself when the kid appeared in the doorway. "You screamed?" He asked mildly.

"Did you do this?" Sam demanded.

"Do what?" Teddy asked.

Sam stared at him. "You know."

"I do not!" He protested. "Oh, you made more coffee," he said. "Good. Jack finished it and…" he went to pour himself a cup.

"No!" Sam stopped him, even though he wasn't completely sure that he believed his nephew.

Teddy stopped. "Is there something wrong with the coffee?" It was genuine confusion. And Sam didn't think that Teddy was that good of an actor.

"Yeah. It's not coffee for one," he said. He went over to the bag that he had poured from. It was light and he looked inside to see that it was not coffee grounds, as one would expect from a bag of coffee, but instead, tea leaves. "Did you do this?" Sam repeated.

"What? No! Why would I? What a horrid way to make tea. Worse than the microwave method you Americans seem so fond of for Merlin-knows-what-reason," Teddy said. "Plus, that's a waste of the tea that Gran brought!"

Sam frowned. If Teddy didn't do it then… "Do you think that Jack would have done this?"

Teddy shook his head. "I don't think he understands the concept of a prank yet."

"This isn't exactly Dean or Harry's style either," Sam mused out loud. "And someone put salt in the sugar," he realized.

Teddy wrinkled his nose. "Gross."

"Yeah," Sam said trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Something wasn't adding up right maybe…

"Sam!" an enthusiastic voice came from the door as Jack came running into the kitchen, pulling Sam out of his thought. "I did it!" He looked a little dejected at the lack of response. "Did you already tell him, Ted?" He asked.

"'Course not, mate. It's your news."

Jack's smile brightened even more. "I did magic."

That caught Sam's attention. "Did you?"

"Yeah, watch – Ted was teaching me last night. Wingardium Leviosa," he incanted. The spoon sitting in front of Sam rose slightly.

"Oh, wow," Sam said. "Wizarding magic?"

"Yeah," Ted said. "I thought I'd start with the Standard Book of Spells and what we learned in first-year charms," he explained. "And Jack killed it! Without a wand."

"That's great, Jack!" Sam really meant it. If Jack was learning to use his powers that got them one step closer to Limbo and their mom.

"Want to see what else I can do?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, of course," Sam said, leaving his book on the table.

It took everything in Jack to not show a sign of relief. He hoped that Harry got back soon because keeping Sam away from Sirius was getting more and more difficult. Hopefully, the magic he had learned would be enough to keep the youngest Winchester busy for a bit of time.

III

"Ouch!" Harry complained.

"Don't be a baby," Dean smirked from behind a large cup of coffee.

Harry glared. It wasn't just the sensation of being scratched it was as though he could feel it in his bones. Likely because he felt as though he had been stomped on by a hippogriff. Had hadn't even had that much to drink. Not by comparison to what he used to drink, in any case.

"Why do I have to do get this done today?" Harry whined.

"You said you wanted to join the family business," Dean said, watching his words in front of the tattoo artist. "Well, this is a pre-requisite if you want to play with the big boys."

The guy stopped for a second. "You know, buddy, if you don't want this, we can stop right now," he sounded a bit concerned.

"It's fine," Harry said non-convincingly. The guy hesitated.

"He's fine," Dean added. "Look, I've got one just like it," he briefly pulled down his Henley to show the tattoo on his chest. "Our little brother has one too."

"You don't look like brothers," the artist frowned. "Or sound the same. Son, are you sure? Is this a mob thing?"

Harry burst into laughter. Which he immediately regretted. Everything hurt. "Not a mob thing," he said. "Just a family thing. I'm good."

"If you're sure…"

"I am," Harry said. "We just had a late night last night, that's all," he winced as the pain continued. He wanted to ask more about the case, but he also was aware of the Muggle in the room.

Dean wasn't completely heartless. In fact, seeing Harry in this pain, after he had been tortured, was a little bit difficult for him. "Did I ever tell you about the time that Sam tried to sabotage the science fair in the 8th grade so that he could win?" Distraction hopefully would work.

"That doesn't sound like Sam," Harry said, knowing what Dean was doing and appreciating it.

"Alright, maybe I tried to sabotage the science fair so that Sam could win," Dean countered. "But I had to be real subtle and convince Sam that it was all his idea…"

III

"Stop touching it," Dean ordered Harry as they got out of the car outside to police prescient in Marion, Iowa. "You're only gonna irritate it."

"But it's just so strange!" Harry said.

"Well, I'm just glad you've got that. We really should have gotten you one of those way earlier," Dean said.

"I didn't need it before," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, well, now that your human like the rest of us more schmucks, you're going to need the protection. Especially if you want to be a Hunter."

"It's not like I've got a lot of choices, do I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a Winchester – this is what we do."

Dean didn't say much to that. But he couldn't dispute the fact. They entered the building. He was about to talk to the man at the front desk, but Harry beat him to it.

"Hi there, I'm Agent Thruston and this is my partner, Agent Wagtail," he flashed a badge as if he had been born to do it. Dean did his best not to make a face at the names, wondering where the hell Harry had come up with those.

The man looked surprised. "Are you here about Kieran Jorns?"

"Yes," Harry said, without missing a beat. "We'd like to see your case files on the incident."

"I – I'll take you the sheriff," the man said.

"Thanks," Harry said.

The two of them followed him.

"What's with the names?" Dean whispered to Harry.

"Thought we could use some proper musician names, for once," he whispered back.

"Sherriff," the guy said to an older man sitting behind a large desk. "The feds are here."

"Well, come on in gentlemen," he said, standing up to shake their hands. "I'm Watkins. You know – we've been expecting you for a week now. If you'd have gotten here earlier maybe we could have caught the guy before he struck again. I guess better late than never."

Dean adjusted his posture to look nonchalant. "We're spread pretty thin these days."

"No kidding," the man said, "if you're resorting to hiring foreigners," he said, nodding his head to Harry.

"I'm an American citizen," Harry frowned.

"Oh, don't worry yourself with this Limey son-of-a-bitch," Dean said. Harry stiffened slightly. "He's just a paper pusher and the reason we took so long to get here," he dramatically rolled his eyes with annoyance. With air quotes, he said, "proper procedure, and all."

"That sounds like those stuck up, inbred, fancy folks to me," the man laughed.

"For the love of…" Harry started.

"Now, let's get to business. Nasty what happened with Jorns, what have you come up with?" Dean interrupted.

"It's all a bit of a mystery," the sheriff said. "He was just found dead, like a heap in the middle of the floor. There was also…" he gave Harry the side-eye as if he didn't trust him.

"Hey, Thurston, why don't you go fetch us some coffee?" Dean asked, sneering. "And don't come back with that tea shit this time."

"Agent Wagtail I hardly think that…"

"Relax, man. Maybe go file paperwork in the car? We have important business to discuss here," Dean continued. "It might be too much for your weak constitution."

Harry gave a heavy sigh, stood up, and left.

As he headed out to the car, he hoped that their little act played off. He had to hand it to Dean – his brother knew how to quickly read someone and ingratiate himself.

Harry wasn't sure how long Dean would be in there, so after waiting for a couple of minutes, twiddling his thumbs, he pulled out his phone to call Sam.

"Hey, Harry, recovered yet?" Sam answered, a laugh in his voice. He was guessing that he had spoken to Dean already.

"Har, har," Harry said. "This is what I get for checking in? And don't think that you don't have massive payback coming your way for making me to get a tattoo while fighting the biggest hangover of my life."

"Needed to be done. How's the case going?"

"Fine. Dean's in there getting the details from the sheriff who wasn't too fond of my accent."

"Small town USA, gotta love it," Sam said. "You know, you might want to work on developing an American accent. People might question you being in the FBI."

"I looked it up – the FBI will hire any American citizen. Born here or not. Also, I'm rubbish at accents."

"Ted could probably give you a lesson or two if you asked nicely."

"I am not going to ask my godson to teach me how to sound more American," Harry said indignantly.

Sam chuckled. "He's a good teacher. You know, he has Jack learning The Standard Book of Spells: Year One right now?"

"And Jack can do it?"

"Yeah. Without a wand."

Harry considered. That wasn't entirely surprising. He realized that he used a wand largely because that is how he learned to do magic. "The problem is that we don't have seven years before we need to rescue Mom."

"Yeah. But one problem at a time," Sam said. "Harry – have you found anything about why your powers aren't back?" He had the safety of being on the phone. "I've been doing research but…"

Harry suppressed his groan. "Gabriel made up the spell, right? I don't know if there will be anything in books that can help. I can't help but wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

"If he pulled one of his tricks and permanently took my powers away," Harry had been thinking this for ages but had been scared to say it out loud. Somehow it just made it all the more real. And without his power – without magic who was he? And without magic why would he even – no. He stopped that train of thought. It was too dangerous.

"I don't think so," Sam said. "I can't imagine that he would do that to you. Me, now, that's another story."

Harry made a noncommittal sound of neither agreement nor disagreement.

"I'll keep searching. We'll figure this out."

"Sure," Harry said, not really wanting to talk about it anymore. There was a brief moment of silence. Harry figured that meant that Sam was about to ask him something big.

"Harry – I know this is a sore subject, but speaking of searching, what have you found about your godfather?"

Harry would prefer that they went back to talking about his lack of powers. He hated lying to his brothers. But he couldn't risk Sirius' life. "Well, I couldn't do the bloody spell, could I? Who knows where he is? I'm hoping that he makes his way to England."

"Do you think that's likely when he knows you're in the United States?"

"I have no idea what he's thinking," Harry said quickly. "Hey – Dean's coming back, got to go." He hung up.

Dean was actually coming out of the police station.

"What did you find out?" Harry asked him as he approached.

"That guy really hates Brits, first of all," Dean said. "He spent like an hour going on and on about."

"Dean, it's only been ten minutes."

"Whatever. Get in the car. Whatever's happening here is definitely up our alley. And it's a damn good thing we got you that tattoo. I'll fill you in on the way. Oh – and now might be a good time to brush up on your Latin."

My Latin is better than yours, Harry thought, but he got in the car. It felt wrong, but he was actually a little excited. His first proper case. Maybe he didn't need his powers to make a difference in the world. Maybe he could follow in his brothers' footsteps. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe.

III

Well, that cements it, Sam thought. Harry knew exactly where Sirius Black was. And, the thought made him feel sick to his stomach, it was likely that the man was here. Living in the Bunker. They were living with the man who had murdered Castiel.

Sam understood the lie but he was also very disappointed.

But, at least, he was on the right track now.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered that Harry's godfather and not-father were pranksters back in their day. He couldn't quite remember what they had called themselves. Martyrs? Mahamsters? It didn't matter. He never liked the way Harry talked about any of them. Although he had only briefly met Sirius, Sam wasn't a fan. Of him or any of the assholes that had helped take his brother away from his rightful family.

Now he just needed to figure out how to flush the man out. And maybe, somehow, get him to leave the Bunker, and preferably, the United States.

Out of respect and love for Harry, Sam wouldn't kill the man. But he couldn't imagine what would possess Harry to think that this was the safest place to hide the man. Because while he wouldn't kill him, he didn't think that Dean would hesitate, even for a second.

He wondered if Teddy knew. Somehow, he doubted it. But he had to ask.

"Hey, Teddy?" Sam walked into the library, where the two boys were currently huddled together.

"Wotcher, Sam!" Teddy greeted, not even correcting the use of his name. He was just in too great of a name.

"Could I talk to you for a second?"

Ted looked confused. "Sure. That alright, Jack?"

Jack was currently pouring over a fourth-year Transfiguration textbook that Sam recognized as one of his own.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I want to try and make flowers that aren't pink." He wrinkled his nose a little at mentioning the color.

Sam couldn't help but be amused. "What color would you like the flowers to be?"

"I don't know. Blue maybe. Or purple. Just anything other than pink. This book says that is the only color possible, but I think that if I just adjust the wand movement a little I can…" Jack tapered off and turned his full concentration to the book.

"He doesn't like it when the book tells him something isn't possible," Teddy explained. "I tried to tell him that I like pink flowers but that did nothing to budge him."

"It just doesn't make sense," Jack tried the spell and, sure enough, there were pink flowers.

Sam nodded his head to indicate to Teddy that they should leave the room. This didn't seem like too much to leave Jack to.

Teddy followed Sam to the dungeon.

"Uh – Uncle Sam, is something wrong?" Ted asked a little unnerved to be led to this room, specifically.

"No. Well, yes, but nothing that you've done wrong," Sam said. "We're here because it's one of the only rooms in the place that has wards that block out sound. I don't want to be overheard."

"By Jack?"

"Not Jack. Again, yes, Jack too. But I have a really important question for you." He hesitated.

"Yeah?"

"Did Harry tell you that he was hiding Sirius Black here in the Bunker?" Sam asked, point-blank. The comical widening of Ted's eyes told him the truth immediately.

"What? Why would you think that?"

"A couple of reasons. But I needed to know if you were in on it."

Teddy looked annoyed. "Do you think I could keep something like that from you?"

"Maybe," Sam said, feeling a little ashamed at the accusation. "I think that Jack might know though," he just realized as he said the words out loud.

"No. There's no way that he could keep a secret…" Teddy hesitated. "Maybe he could," he reconsidered. "Why wouldn't he tell me?" The last comment was mostly aimed at himself.

Sam felt a little bad. He wasn't great with kids in the way that Dean was and it showed. "If Harry asked him not to, he might feel…"

Teddy scowled. "That sounds like Harry."

Sam had no idea what to say to that. "Here's the thing, I don't know much about the man. I was hoping that you might have some information that might help."

"Help what?"

"Get him out of here before Dean gets back. I don't know what would happen, but I think that it could permanently damage our relationship with Harry. I don't want to have to take sides." Especially since he knew that he would side against the wizard that had killed Cas and stolen Harry.

"Do you really think Harry would pick him over you?"

"I don't want to put him in that situation at all," Sam said. And, yes, he was a little afraid that that would be exactly what Harry would do.

"Alright, I'll tell you what you what I know," Ted said. "It's not much," he warned. He didn't think that he wanted Harry to leave Sam and Dean either. He was worried that, without them, his godfather might try to leave entirely, and the next time, there would be no coming back.

III

"Well, this is nicer than the usual places we investigate," Dean said as they approached the front door of what had once been a monastery but was now a boutique hotel.

"That bar is pretty low, isn't it?" Harry asked.

Dean could hardly argue with that.

Harry hesitated for a second. There was something a little off about the front entrance. He could swear…

"You coming, man?" Dean asked.

Harry shook his head. The door looked completely normal. "Yeah, of course."

The inside was nice. Other than an unnatural quiet that fell on the place it looked much as they would expect it to. A bell chimed when the door closed behind them.

That summoned a tired-looking woman from behind the check-in counter. "I'm sorry gentlemen, the hotel is closed," she said, regret heavy in her voice. "You should have received an e-mail canceling your reservation with suggestions of other places to stay. I believe the Calico Cat still has some openings."

In perfect sync, Harry and Dean pulled out and flashed their badges.

"Oh," she said. "I've already talked with the police."

"Yes, we understand that ma'am," Harry said. "But we'd like to hear about the incident directly from you and see the crime scene for ourselves."

"There's not much more to tell," the woman said, but she sighed and leaned heavily on the desk. "I didn't know Mr. Jorns personally. I wasn't even the one to check him in."

"Who was?"

"My son," she said miserably.

"The police report didn't mention a kid," Dean said.

"That's because he's not a kid," she said. "Well, not really, he's seventeen, so he's a legal adult."

Dean frowned. "Seventeen?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"According to the sheriff, it was only one person working here that night," Dean pressed forward. "And that would be you, Ms. Perry."

"Right. Sorry. It's been a long week," she said. "I can show you two gentlemen to the room in question now, if you'd like." She took a key off the wall and didn't wait for their response before starting to dart up the staircase.

"Well, that's not suspicious at all," Dean said under his breath and he started to follow the woman.

"Wait," Harry said.

Dean did.

"Do you…see that?" he asked, looking at the wall that held keys to all the rooms.

"See what?" Dean asked, looking at Harry like he was crazy.

"It's…it's moving? Blurry?"

"Dude, I think you're just hungover. Get your shit together, we have a case to work."

Harry looked at the wall. It looked completely normal, but he all of a sudden had a headache.

The two of them went up the stairs. The front desk woman was standing outside one of the doors.

"Room 103?" Dean clarified.

"Yes, this one," she said. "This is where…" She didn't need to finish the sentence.

They entered to see for themselves.

What was inside was bizarre. There was blood smeared all over the floor, but it seemed to be in some sort of pattern. And there was something else. Shimmery.

Harry bent down. "Grace," he whispered to Dean, confirming what he had been thinking all along. It was more than murder that had happened here.

"Ma'am, what year is your son at Ilvermorny?" Harry asked with total nonchalance.

"He just finished his 6th year and…" she slapped her hand over her mouth. "You're wizards? Did MACUSA send you? I swear this is completely legal. We mostly cater to No-Majs. I inherited this place from my squib mother and I never was great at magic, but Mark he…" she burst into tears.

Dean looked alarmed.

Harry felt alarmed but he was better at controlling his outward appearance. "Why don't we go sit down in the hallway?" he asked, gently leading her out of the room.

She gladly took him up on the offer. The two of them sat in a small sitting area just outside the room. Harry gave Dean a look that told him to keep investigating. Dean had no problem with that. It's not like he could pass for a wizard if he tried, anyway.

"Ms. Perry, why don't you tell me what really happened? I'm not with MACUSA. I promise – you won't get in trouble."

"Mya," she said. "My name is Mya."

"Mya, then. I'm Harry," he said.

"Like Potter?" She asked, momentarily surprised.

Harry gave her a thin smile. "I get that a lot. I think it's the accent."

"You sort of look like him…"

"He's dead so I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not," Harry said.

"Right, of course. Sorry. As if Harry Potter would have anything to do with me anyway. You're more handsome, in any case."

Harry prayed that Dean couldn't hear any of this conversation. He would never hear the end of it later if he did.

"Your son?" Harry prompted.

"Right. Mason. He – he was working alone. It was just for a little bit – we were out of coffee and we needed it for breakfast, so I just ran to the store, and when I came back…" She couldn't get any more words out over her sobs.

"Mya, please, tell me what happened," Harry said after a couple of minutes. He noticed a tissue box on a little table and offered it to her.

"Right. I soon as I came back, I noticed that something was wrong. He knew better than to leave the front desk unattended, even for a second. Then – I heard this terrible sound upstairs. It was a scream, but not just any ordinary scream, the sound of the life draining out of someone. Out of…out of Mason."

Harry gave her a sympathetic look and she steeled herself to continue.

"I ran – almost apparated, honestly, up here as quickly as possible. That's when I saw – smoke, black smoke, pouring out of Mr. Jorns. It filled the whole room. And when it cleared – Mason, was gone. And that man – he was dead on the floor." She broke down again. Harry patted her on the back.

"We'll do everything we can to get him back," he said to her. Although, if they managed to find him, Harry didn't know what kind of shape he'd be in. Or if he'd even be alive.

He left the woman in the chair and went to talk to Dean.

"Sulfur," Dean said, pointing to some yellow powder on the ground. "I thought that demons and wizards didn't mix?"

"They don't," Harry said. "Demons can't possess magical beings."

"Then what do you make of this?" Dean pointed to the ground.

Harry groaned. "You know, if I had realized that I would be a Hunter, I would have taken Ancient Runes. This looks like a sigil of some sort." Harry pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. He hesitated for just a second, before sending it to Hermione. This was enough to try and bring in the big guns. He hoped that she got the message on time.

"I didn't know that you knew how to do that," Dean teased gently.

"Shut up."

"You send that to Sam?"

Harry shook his head and mentally berated himself. He didn't even think about his younger brother. He didn't have long to think about how calling Hermione in was like muscle memory before his phone rang.

"Harry! Are you alright?" Came the alarmed voice of his best friend on the other end.

"Yeah. I am, but Dean and I ran into…"

"Demons?"

"How'd you know?" Harry asked his stomach sinking.

"It's not the first time I've seen that symbol," Hermione said. "It's bad. Ever since we got rid of the Men of Letters, something has been happening. People have been disappearing. Not just in Britain, of course, but all over the world."

"Wizards?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Magical people. There is a special session of the International Confederation of Wizards next week. I was hoping this would have nothing to do with you."

"Me too," Harry said. "Do they all look like this?"

"Pretty much. How'd you stumble on the case? Last I heard, MACUSA was trying to keep this under wraps."

"Sam found it," Harry said. "Demon signs in Iowa. Dean and I were in the area so we came as quickly as we could. But this happened last week, surely if they didn't want the Muggles to know…"

"MACUSA can't keep up. Neither can we. Look – you should get out of there. With Dean. I'll call my contacts and get them on the case as soon as possible."

"But Hermione, there's a missing kid here," Harry argued.

She sighed. "He's dead."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Harry, I know. Please – the last thing we need is for you to suddenly return from the dead in the middle of all this chaos. Leave. Take Dean with you and drop it. Let us handle it." Hermione hung up.

"What'd she say?" Dean asked.

Harry's face was grim. "Nothing good. She wants us to stay out of it and that this is happening all over the world."

"If it's happening all over the world, how come this is the first we've heard of it?" Dean demanded.

"Wizarding world," Harry corrected. "Demons attacking wizards."

Dean's eyes got wide. "And she thinks we're gonna stay out of it?"

Harry couldn't help but let out a small snort. "That's what she wants."

"Like hell."

"My thoughts exactly," Harry said.

Dean was a little surprised. And pleased. Harry was siding with him, not his wizarding family. Maybe losing his powers was good after all.

"Let's document this for Sam, maybe he can make heads or tails of it," Harry said.

Dean agreed and the two of them took pictures.

They heard the ding of a bell downstairs. "Ms. Perry?" they heard someone call from downstairs. They both quickly rushed into the hallway.

"It's Aurors," she whispered. "Please don't tell them…"

"We won't say anything," Dean said, exchanging a glance with Harry.

"It'll be alright," Harry reassured her, hating that he was lying. They needed to get out of here. Quick. A run-in with MACUSA was exactly what they didn't need. "Look, Mya, we're investigating cases like this all over the country. Without the approval of MACUSA. We'd really rather not be caught by them," he said.

"You're not MACUSA?" She asked, her eyes wide. "Who the hell are you then?" She demanded. "Why are you here? Are you with them? Give me one reason why I shouldn't…"

Harry sighed, and full the fringe of hair that covered his forehead to the side.

"No," she said. "You're dead."

"That's what I want everyone to think," he said. "Please. Mya. I promise I will get to the bottom of what happened to Mason. But I can't do that if people know about me." He looked her dead in the eyes, hoping that she see his sincerity, and believed him.

Dean was watching carefully, trying to see if he needed to intervene. For a second, he could have sworn that Harry's eyes glowed. But it happened so quickly that he stowed it away to think about later.

"How…" she shook her head. "Mr. Potter, I don't know how I didn't see it immediately. You really do…"

"Look just like myself but more handsome?" He laughed a little, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"We're coming up!" a voice yelled from downstairs.

"Yes." She seemed to come to a conclusion. "There's a set of stairs just at the end of the hallway, two lefts, and a right," she said. "It will take you out to the staff entrance."

"Thank you, Mya," he said.

"Of course – we, the whole wizarding world, we owe you…"

"Let's go," Dean hissed.

Harry agreed. And he didn't need the praise. They moved quickly – turning a corner just as the Aurors were reaching the landing."

Moving quickly, they found the stairs, ran down, and were in the Impala, peeling off.

"We've stumbled into something huge," Harry said.

"Yeah, no kidding. Let's just hope that those Aurors didn't catch sight of us," Dean said.

"Just get us back to the Bunker as quickly as possible, then they won't be able to find us."

Dean didn't respond. He just turned on the stereo and put peddle to the metal.

III

They were only an hour or so out from the Bunker. The ride had been mostly silent – both men were thinking about the implications of what they had just seen and heard.

This is why, when Dean's cell phone rang, it startled Harry, who had been completely lost in thought.

"Yeah," Dean answered the phone. Harry raised an eyebrow. Dean looked completely dumbfounded.

"What?" Harry asked.

Dean didn't answer. "We'll be right there. Hang tight."

"What's going on?" Harry pressed.

"Just – just – you'll see. Or not." He didn't want to speak it out loud. Doing that meant that he had to accept what he had just heard. And he wouldn't do that until he absolutely had to.

Harry knew it was serious when Dean turned the music off to just concentrate on the road. It scared him a little. But he knew when it was useless to ask questions. He guessed that they drove about twenty more miles before Dean pulled off the highway. They cruised through a mostly quiet and sleeping town before they reached an alley that Dean turned down.

Dean put the car in park and didn't give himself time to think or question before he got out. Harry followed close on his heels.

At the end of the alley, there was a man that looked very familiar. He was standing with his back to them.

Dean's heart skipped a beat.

"Is that?" Harry asked.

The man turned around. He smiled. "Hello, Dean."

Phew. Y'all – I'm cutting this closer than I ever have. I finished writing this chapter at 11pm Thursday night. So, if it is a little less polished (not that I'm ever all that polished, lol) than usual, you should know why!

This is the conclusion of Act 1 of 3 of this final part of this fic. I tried not to make it too cliffhangery and give you a little bit of the characters spread far and wide at this point. Did y'all think I'd forgotten about Hermione and the wizarding world? Surprise! I haven't. I do have too many damn characters but I think that I'm headed in a direction to get them together quite nicely.

I know that many of you are frustrated with Harry's continued lack of powers. Please bear with me! This phase is very important to his development as a character, his relationship with his brothers, and a big part of how we're going to get to a happy ending. (And there is a reason for it.)

As I said before, this will be my last post before I take November to write my butt off. My goal is to actually finish this fic during Nanowrimo. We'll see about that. I expect that this fic will end up about where my others have – around 25 chapters total. Hopefully no more than that.

Until then, the happiest of November to all of you! I might be posting some sneak peaks on Tumblr, so go follow me there to keep in touch. Thank you all for your continued reading and I can't wait to see y'all in December.