Birds in My Ears and a Devil on My Shoulder
Part One
Chapter One: Can't Get a Hold of Her
Her heart was thumping. This was not the way the night was supposed to go. Of course, this was probably her own fault for running with the subtext of what she had been told to do. No matter what had been subtly implied she was certain that no one had this in mind.
A stupid risk.
But this was her chance for answers. What she had seen over the last week confirmed that there was something very, very wrong. Way worse than they had ever imagined when they had entered this Merlin-forsaken country.
The invisibility cloak she had been wearing (thankfully, not Harry's father's, although this wouldn't have happened if she had the Deathly Hallow in the first place) had been ripped off of her and she had just managed to slip behind a wall to hide, breathing heavily.
"I can hear you, Red," a cold voice came from the hunter she had been trailing. "What are you?"
She tried her best to calm her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut in the effort. It did not help that he knew what she looked like – maybe she hadn't been as discreet as she thought she had been. Or he was just that sharp.
Magic in this country was weird and she was unable to apparate away from the base that she had stupidly invaded all by herself.
It felt different than anti-apparation wards. Something older, maybe. Darker. A side of magic she had never come across before.
And she thought her days of surprise were over.
The thrill of danger thrummed through her veins like a shot of adrenaline.
This is not how I die, she thought to herself.
It was going to take more than a Muggle hunter to take her down.
Of course, there were half a dozen in the Campbell base, but she wasn't worried about most of them. Not even the one currently possessed by a demon.
Silencio, she begged her magic nonverbally as she performed the wand movement as subtly as she could.
She let out a sigh of relief as the silence washed over her.
The footsteps that had been slowly but surely coming towards her stopped.
Not invisible, but now silent, she crouched down and started carefully edging her way towards the door. She had sent a Patronus to Neville to report her location not twenty minutes ago. Of course, it would take him another ten to get permission (because, unlike her, he didn't have a reputation for breaking the rules – it was part of the reason they had been paired together) to come for her, but he was convincing and had never once left her hanging.
I guess I don't have to worry about the fight when Harry finds out about all of this, her thoughts intruded on her silent escape attempt. It was difficult to repress the hysterical laughter that threatened to escape her.
Concentrating again she did her best to cast a disillusionment charm non-verbally because as she had inched around the corner, she saw at least two Campbells were guarding the door.
It worked but her celebration was very short-lived as a gunshot cracked through the air. She was able to move just in time but the bullet still grazed her upper arm.
She cried out in pain, of course, but no sound could be heard over her charm.
The men at the door came running towards the sound which was exactly what she needed to make her escape.
"You morons, she's right there!" the voice of the man who shot her rang out as she sprinted.
She didn't have time to realize that he was tracking the trail of blood that was oozing out of her arm as she ran.
She didn't have time to think at all.
Which is when she made her next mistake – sending several spells in the direction of the men (and one woman).
But Ginny didn't have time to think about that now, using the last of her strength and adrenaline she flung open the doors of the base and ran outside, not daring to look behind her.
She could feel him gaining on her.
The hunter was over six feet tall and while she was fast there was no compensating for height alone. Just a couple more steps she kept telling herself. Anything to keep her going.
"GINNY!" A voice yelled out.
She recognized it immediately and switched direction.
But she wasn't fast enough. There was another loud bang and this time she felt pain explode in her leg as she fell to the ground.
Neville started towards her and she looked up enough to see the panic in his eyes before he was whooshed away.
They had been working together long enough that he must have counted on her making those few more steps and activating the portkey in the expectation that they would need to get out of there as quickly as possible.
He's going to get dinged on his performance review for that one, was the thought that went through her mind as her mind went black and she passed out from pain.
III
One Week Earlier
Ginny applauded herself for swapping out Harry's usual evening cuppa with chamomile tea. He had noticed, of course, but had underestimated, paired with the time difference, how sleepy it would make him. Her boyfriend was well and truly asleep, snoring softly, as she slipped out of the hotel room, her cloak tightly wound around her body.
This way she wouldn't have to add to the mountain of lies between the two of them because he wouldn't even notice that she had left for the evening.
The chill of this early November night in Rhode Island nearly penetrated her warming charms. She half suspected that there was simply something magical afoot, but the United States was devoid of Dementors and she doubted any of their supernatural creatures had the kind of power to produce this level of cold.
She could feel the treads on her boots slip a little on the iced-over cobblestone streets but she kept moving with confidence.
The fog that permeated the air was welcome – it helped keep her in the shadows.
This wasn't her first mission to the States.
The Department of Mysteries had some long-standing research stations set up that she had been sent to several times. Of course, those were short stays as the environment of the non-magical United States was not suitable for witches and wizards. The Europeans who had emigrated to this country had long vanished behind the protections of the original magical people of this continent. They remained the most reclusive and insular community of witches and wizards in the world. It was only in the early 1960s that they re-established contact.
Before, it had been believed that all those who had come over with the original British colonists had perished or disappeared like the settlers of Roanoke. How they were able to survive in the wild land was still a closely guarded secret.
Moving at a quick clip she arrived at her destination on the outskirts of town in just under twenty minutes. She noted, with approval, that the wards were already set and the area had been cordoned off.
"Nice work, Longbottom," she muttered as she approached her partner. "I'm beginning to suspect that you're just stroking my ego when you insist that my wards are stronger than yours."
"Either that or I'm just very lazy," Neville replied, not taking his eyes off of the journal he had been writing in when he approached. "And I had to pick up your slack tonight, Weasley. What took you so long?"
"Took me forever to get Harry down," she quipped with a smile.
"Did you let him nap too late in the day? Rookie mistake," he said off-handily still distracted by whatever work he had in front of him.
Neville had long been Ginny's confidant. Ever since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone off on their little camping trip during her sixth year and left the two of them to fight fascism at Hogwarts, they had been a tight team. They had even entered the Department together – although, of course, they didn't know that at the time.
Ginny sighed softly. "He wanted to talk. And apologize that work is going to take up so much of his time here so we can't have a proper holiday. Thinks I'll feel left behind."
Neville snorted. "Little does he know that you designed his itinerary to give you as much time as possible without having to explain where you were."
There were a lot of things that Harry didn't know. And, if it were up to Ginny, he never would.
The scars of being teenaged soldiers were deep in both of them and they both sought to control their adult lives in a way that had been denied to them as children. Harry found his control in ensuring that his loved ones were safe at all times from all threats. It was well-meaning and extraordinarily suffocating. She had barely convinced him that they didn't need an extra protection detail for this trip to follow her when he was otherwise engaged.
Where Harry wanted to make her – and therefore his – world safer through security, she took the opposite approach.
By seeking out evil it could never take her by surprise again.
"What are you finding?" She asked, skipping over the topic altogether.
He finally looked up from his notebook. "It's not a mere coincidence that so many Mundies are suddenly leaving their territories to come to the United States."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Something is calling to them. Or luring them. I'm not sure which."
"How do you know?"
He sighed and pointed to the dead creature that Ginny had barely glanced at since arriving. It was humanoid but… "what's going on with its eyes?"
"It appears to have two irises – it's a good thing that Ron isn't in this line of work. This is an Arachne."
Well, it certainly followed the pattern. She wasn't sure that she had ever heard of one leaving Crete.
He poked it slightly with his foot. When he pulled back, there was a gooey-looking spiderweb attached to his boots."
"Gross," Ginny remarked, with more fascination than disgust. "How'd you kill it?"
"I didn't," he said. "It was dead when I got here."
She looked up at him sharply. "Did you get the thing that killed it?" She started looking around, wand at the ready, prepared for something to come out of nowhere and attack.
"No. But look," he indicated to the body – this time with a small beam of light from his wand instead of his foot.
She crouched slightly to look. Her eyes went wide. "That's from a gun?"
"Yeah. This wasn't creature-on-creature violence this was…"
"A hunter," she finished for him in one breath. A shiver ran down her spine. So far, she had either been extremely lucky or very unlucky, depending on how one looked at it, but she hadn't encountered any hunters on her trips to the US. They were the only humans to be rated as beasts by Newt Scamander – who famously detested them – as quintuple-x monsters.
Granted, that had to do some with the man's sympathies for Mundies. (The shortened form of Mundanes – the term coined to distinguish these monsters from their wizarding counterparts. Wizarding vampires, for example, had rights, Mundie vampires were to be killed on sight.)
"It's unlikely that anyone else would have been able to take on this creature and win," Neville agreed with her. "I also think I caught a glimpse of the man when I arrived. I might have been the reason he ran off. I think he saw the light from my wand. I almost called out to him, but…"
"Neville, you didn't!" She asked, horrified.
"No. Do you think I would have stayed here if I had? I know the protocol."
Protocol demanded that if they ever encountered these hunters they were to immediately vacate the area and report the sighting to their supervisor. A rigorous process followed – tests for mundane spells, mind tampering, and disease would follow. It took weeks and would have likely ended this mission altogether.
Ginny sighed in relief.
"Crisis averted then. The last thing we need is a contamination report. You were saying about why they are here?"
"Yeah, check this out…" he waved his wand over the body a series of glowing symbols floated above it. She cocked her head, trying to make sense of the.
"A compulsion charm? But that's…"
"Not normal, no. A bastardization of magic. It looks demonic."
"Have you ever seen this before?"
"No, but I've copied this sequence into my notebook. Dennis should already be looking at the specimens that we collected on our last trip to see if there is something similar."
"Why would demons want to call Mundies to the United States?"
"I've no idea. But we've got to finish processing this site. Get the corpse to headquarters. What time do you need to be back?"
"Are you sure the threat to Muggles has been eliminated?" a long night with no action sounded like the worst possible outcome for the evening. A waste of even making Harry sleep. She was itching for a fight.
"I'm sure, Weasley," Neville responded, giving her a knowing look.
If she were the sort of woman who pouted, she would be pouting right now. Instead, she pursed her lips slightly. Neville shot her a sly smile.
"Buck up. I'm sure that you can single-handedly wrestle a herd of Rougarous all by yourself tomorrow. Maybe we'll even get a shot at that hunter," he teased her.
"Fine," she said, resuming her normal expression. "But I'm pretty sure that it's a pack of Rougarous, not a herd. They're not cows."
He chuckled good naturally and continued with his work.
III
Sam muttered as he returned to the scene where he had defeated the monster. Samuel had insisted that he "finish the job," or whatever. He was pretty sure that they should be getting the hell out of dodge, but his grandfather took keeping supernatural monsters secret very seriously. Too seriously. He insisted on taking all bodies back to the Campbell base for incineration.
When the cops were on their trail it was just such a waste of time. They could be halfway to their next hunt by now.
He thought that he had heard something when he was leaving, so despite his desire to get this done quickly, he took all the precautions he needed as he slowly circled the barn.
There was something…off.
Interesting, he thought as the hairs on his arms prickled.
Not much made him nervous these days. Actually – nothing made him nervous. But he trusted his body and his body told him that there was something wrong.
He took one more careful circle before deciding that he wasn't hearing or seeing anything.
Moving with more grace than a man of his sheer size had any business doing, he slipped into the barn, gun at the ready.
Ready to ambush anything that was lying in wait, Sam stopped dead in his tracks.
Huh, he thought.
He took out his phone.
"You have the body?" the gruff voice of Samuel came from the other end, "I'm at the junction of Arrow and South Bend but I don't know how much longer I can hide. Better get here quick."
"So, you haven't already cleaned the scene?"
"What? No, of course not. Quit fooling around and get back here ASAP."
"Yeah, I would," Sam said, "I will. But Samuel – this barn is clean. Squeaky clean."
There was silence on the other end.
"I mean it. No webs, no bodies. Nothing. It looks like someplace scrubbed the place good."
"No bodies?" There was a slight worry in the older man's voice.
"None," Sam confirmed. "This place was covered in grim and dirt and now I think it's so clean that I could eat off the floor. What could have done this?" Angels? Sam wondered to himself. He shook his head. No, that seemed unlikely. Despite trying many times, Castiel had never responded to him and there had seemed to be no traces of the dicks that had been so prevalent on Earth during the apocalypse.
"I don't like it," Samuel said, "get outta there."
"Yeah, will do." Sam hung up. But he wasn't quite ready to go. There was no way anything…normal could have done this. This was professional.
He examined the floor. There was no evidence that it had been swept. Or mopped. No lines at all. No hint of dirt even in the deepest crevices of the wood floors.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
He spared one more glance at the room before shrugging and moving along. He'd have to think about this more later.
III
"I must've really needed sleep, thanks for the tea," Harry commented as he walked up behind Ginny, who was sitting at the vanity of the hotel room. He gave her a quick 'good morning' kiss. "You didn't wait for me to get breakfast, did you?"
She gave him a cheeky grin that he loved so much. "'Course not. Got to say though – I'm not sold on American breakfasts at all. It's all sugar."
"Sounds perfect," he grinned.
She sniffed. "Well, some of us have to keep in shape for our jobs." She turned and poked his stomach. "Got a case of the desk job, don't you?" The twinkle in her eyes stopped him from being offended.
"Are you challenging me, Weasley?" He asked with a mock glare, grabbing her by the waist. "Because professional athlete or not, I'll take you in a broom race, any day."
She laughed, and wriggled her way out of his grasp, giving him a quick kiss on her way out. "Retired," she reminded him, "and I'd love to see you try, dear." She pushed him towards the bathroom. "Now, get dressed. You've got a meeting in an hour and it's my understanding that this Muggle hotel stops serving breakfast in twenty minutes. And no one here cares if you're a war hero or not. Just another annoying tourist."
He groaned. She was right, of course. He quickly showered and dressed. Honestly, he was impressed that Ginny hadn't had to ask him how to use anything in the room. His girlfriend was adjusting much better to the "rugged" (see: Muggle) surroundings than he ever thought she would. Even he had stared at the shower's dial for a solid minute before figuring out he had to pull up the small metal bit to get the shower started. And he grew up Muggle.
Showered and properly dressed as an American Muggle, he started heading out the door. "Do you want to come with?"
He really wanted her to come with him. She had turned down the extra security detail, but if she was in the room with him and several other important political leaders from all over the world, there would be very few places safer.
She shook her head. "I know you can't tell me why, of all places, this summit of the International Confederation of Wizards meeting is happening in the one country where the wizarding community is so hidden, we can't even stay in wizarding accommodations. But I'm sure as hell going to take advantage of this chance to visit someplace that I wouldn't otherwise be allowed. Spending all day in a room full of stodgy old gammons sounds a waste."
That sent a shock of anxiety up Harry's arms. "Ginny…" they had fought before coming on this trip, so he needed to tread carefully but…
"What?" She asked, fully turning around to face him, the mood in the room shifting entirely. "Don't go off on me about keeping Pierce with me the whole time."
"…we really don't know what might be lurking out there. And you know you're a target…" Her face started to turn the special color of red that all Weasley's seemed to have inherited to show that she was about to explode. "..and I'm not saying you're not a capable witch, Ginny, but you grew up in the wizarding world. What if you slip up? Do you know what they did to people they suspected were witches in this country?"
"That was over three hundred years ago!" She hissed. "And none of those people were actual witches. Harry, I thought we had solved this before we left. I'm a grown woman, I don't need a glorified babysitter to stay safe in a country full of Muggles."
"And Mundanes and hunt…and Muggles with guns." He swallowed his words as quickly as he could. He had a bad feeling about this place. Officially, no witch or wizard from the United Kingdom was allowed to visit the United States without a very special visa that was more-or-less impossible to get. This Summit of the International Confederation of Wizards was the first delegation of its sort in memory. Although that meant that they didn't have to contend with either his fame or hers while they were here, other threats worried him greatly.
Hunters.
The wizarding public knew about hunters, of course, Newt Scamander had written long essays (some classified as rants) about how dangerous they were. But really, they had no idea.
The things that Harry had seen…he shuddered to think what they could or would do if they caught someone doing magic and didn't realize that it was natural. They would shoot first and ask questions later.
He regretted bringing her with him at all.
For one, he just wanted to tell her everything.
Secondly, this trip was what was going to get him promoted. And he needed that promotion.
If he did this well, he would not only be able to protect the entire wizarding world from a grave threat that they didn't understand yet, but he may also earn a promotion that would finally allow him to create the sort of security detail needed to protect his family.
Any hint of impropriety and he could kiss that job goodbye. And his future with it. He was sure that once he got this promotion and was completely out of the field, he would have more time to fix this – space – that had somehow developed between the two of them.
"You think I can't handle a Muggle with a gun?" Ginny asked him in a low, dangerous voice. He regretted ever having brought this up again.
"Of course I think you can, but, Ginny, Muggles in this country are more violent than the ones at home and you know that I'm only asking because I want you to be safe." He pleaded with his eyes for her to understand.
She seemed to deflate a little, but he knew that this argument was never truly going to be over. Ginny thought she was invincible – a Gryffindor down to her very core, but she wasn't. They had both already lost so much that he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her. And he knew that she had fought in the war but the Battle of Hogwarts was over a decade ago and she had been (mostly) safe in the school for the majority of the time. Despite the need for capable witches like her to serve the government, she had chosen to play Quidditch instead.
Of course, now, he was thrilled that she hadn't followed him into a dangerous career path, but she just wasn't prepared for what could be out there. Although, she could certainly outfly just about anyone, himself included.
He would have preferred that she stayed a Quidditch player forever rather than the new job she would be starting. He didn't bring it up because it was a tetchy subject, but, in his opinion, there was no one lower than a journalist. She was going to be pursuing sports journalism, but it was a slippery slope for him.
"I will stick with the terms we agreed to before we left, Harry," she said firmly, but without the edge that her voice had held earlier.
Guess that's the best I can hope for, although he was grateful that he had arranged for some extra security, behind her back.
"Of course. And – if you find anything worth looking at, I'd love to play tourist with you after the meeting."
She smiled. "Go get your breakfast, Potter. I think I'll explore the hotel's pool before going out for the day. I've not been swimming in ages."
A huge weight left Harry's shoulders. The warding set outside the hotel would keep Ginny safe from everything that could be lurking there. Hunters, Mundanes, demons, and if the report was to be believed, and he wasn't sure that it was, angels too.
"Well, you are here on holiday, so enjoy."
He gave her a quick peck on the lips and headed out. She wasn't wrong. It was going to be a very long and boring day. Might as well get some of the promised sugar before heading in.
III
Ginny met Neville in a diner five states over from where they had been the night before. Honestly, she wasn't sure she could point out where she was on a map of the country right now.
"Morning, Weasley!" He greeted with far too much pep in his voice.
She glared. "Try afternoon, Longbottom. Did you get all your beauty rest then?"
He grinned as he slid into the booth. "Full six hours. Did you get any sleep at all?"
"A couple of hours," she said dismissively. "But I've got too much energy. We're close to a breakthrough. I can feel it."
"Well, I hear the coffee here is ghastly but strong."
She winced and held up her mug. "It's better than the tea. Never thought I'd turn down a cuppa."
Ginny took a sip as the waitress came up and took Neville's order.
After she left, her best friend and partner turned back to her. "Well, you'll be happy to hear that I snagged you some of this when I left headquarters last night."
He held out a potion and her eyes got wide. "Is that what I think it is?"
Neville nodded. "Yeah – and it's the last of it, but I think what I've got today is good enough to keep you upright."
"Isn't this illegal now?" she asked as she grabbed for it.
He pulled it back. "Technically, only in the UK. If the US decides to join the International Confederation of Wizards then it might be. But for now, we'll call it a gray area."
She loved the way Neville thought. "Hand it over."
He did. She winced as she swallowed the whole vial. This borderline-illegal potion could keep a witch or wizard awake for 48 hours past when a normal human would pass out. It was proven to have some rather nasty side effects if abused, but she had it all under control. She shuddered as she felt the potion course through her veins.
"Next time I decide that a double life is for me, knock some sense into me, won't you?"
Neville chuckled. "Got it. You know, if Harry…"
"I know, I know, I don't want to even think about the fight we are going to have when he finds out that I am so much more than an International Quidditch sensation."
"You're lucky that he's too scared to lose to you in a broom race. When was the last time you actually played, Weasley?"
She waved him off. That didn't matter. She had officially "retired" from being a Quidditch player because the woman who had been her body double wanted to make a name for herself. Which Ginny had no problem with – being a journalist would make excuses easier to make. She'd have a ghostwriter, of course, to cover for her, but there would be far less to have to hide from her friends and family.
Neville was the only person in her circle that knew she was in the Department. (Although she suspected that Luna knew as well.) Harry was disappointed with her for this next career move but he was going to be even more upset if (when she realized) he got this promotion he was hoping for so badly and his security clearance would allow him to know about her real job.
And she was not looking forward to that day.
Either that or she couldn't wait for it. It would be nice not to have to lie all the time. But she also wasn't sure that Harry would be able to handle it.
It would make or break them.
Somedays she wasn't sure which she'd prefer.
But she did know that she was tired of her double life. At least, once Harry knew the anticipation of him finding out would be over.
Although, right now, she was just grateful that she didn't need to drink anymore of this horrid coffee. "What did you find?"
"It wasn't me – it was Creevey, in the end," he said.
She raised her eyebrows.
"Yeah, I'm just as surprised as you are. Turns out he's good for more than being a Muggle postman. Seems our hunter friend has left…what did he call it – DRN? at four or five sites."
"DNA," she corrected. Trust Dennis to successfully make a connection between the Muggle and the wizarding world. She wondered how difficult it had been to convince the Higher Ups of that one.
Dennis had been a surprise recruit to the Department of Mysteries. She had believed that he had sworn off magic entirely after the Battle of Hogwarts, not that she blamed him. But, a couple of years later, he showed up on the roster. Of course, he hadn't climbed the ranks enough to know her identity, but she had followed his progress carefully, feeling that she owed at least that much to Colin.
"Yeah, that," Neville said. "And – we already have a file on him."
She raised her eyebrows as he conjured a parchment file.
On the top, the label read, "S. Winchester."
She opened the first page. Staring back at her was not what she was expecting. Long, brown hair, and serious eyes leaped off the page in a way she had never experienced from a non-magical photograph. He was handsome. And dangerous.
"Alright – what is the target's location?"
III
"The Winchesters are listed as friendlies," Ginny and Neville's boss said in their typical matter-of-fact manner. Of course, they didn't know who their superior officer was just their alias. Abispa. Abispa was well respected and known for being one of the most level-headed of the higher-ups in the Department.
Ginny found them to be too even-keeled for her tastes.
She wanted action.
"In what capacity? They seem to be very dangerous," the file hadn't contained as much information as she would have liked to have had considering that they seemed to be playing a big part in many strange events over the last five years.
"The elder Winchester, Dean, is retired," Abispa said. "This is the longest period of non-hunting activity that has been observed. He appears to have cut off all contact from his brother."
"Isn't that atypical?" Neville asked.
"Affirmative," Abispa confirmed. "In the past, both brothers have gone to extreme lengths to save each other. But something happened in that cemetery and Dean has not interacted with the hunting community, aside from limited contact with Bobby Singer, since then. He may believe that his brother is dead."
"Dean Winchester is not the reason we asked for this call," Ginny said with an edge to her voice that bordered on insubordination.
"Correct. You are asking for permission to closely follow the younger?"
"Yes," Ginny said. "From what we've found he may be the link on what is drawing these creatures to this country."
"I'm not sure if the evidence you've brought is enough for me to authorize this mission. You know that hunters are quintuple-x."
"Because Newt Scamander was more concerned about the lives of creatures than people!" She couldn't help but argue. She didn't deny that the work the man had done for the field was amazing and it wouldn't surprise her if he had, at one point or another, worked for the Department of Mysteries himself, but there was a clear bias that was currently making her life more difficult.
"Cataglyphis, that is quite enough."
She repressed her eye roll at the use of her codename. Abispa reminded her of her mother sometimes. Or McGonagall. Ginny was one of the best in the entire department and she resented being treated like an errant child.
"I will…approve…of your suggestion."
Ginny started to say something but was interrupted.
"But you are to observe all protocols. No contact, Cataglyphis. I mean it. If Mr. Winchester even suspects that there is someone following him, you are to get out of there."
"Should I…" Neville started.
"Jellyfish, I'm afraid that I am not authorizing you to go on this mission. You are on standby. Should Cataglyphis get herself in too deep – which she better not, you will need to extract her. I am trusting you both. And I expect a report every six hours."
She ended the floo conversation.
They looked at each other.
Ginny grinned.
Neville groaned.
III
"…they won't even let us see their bloody faces. I don't know how they expect any sort of diplomatic victory from this Summit. Honestly, the Americans are giving us absolutely nothing. It's like they don't even care…"
Harry had been ranting for the last twenty minutes or so. He had come back to the hotel room on his lunch break from the Summit. To "check" on her. She was lucky that her early alert system had let her know that he was back in the hotel, otherwise, she would have just headed straight out. But this was taking forever. She was itching to get out into the field. But she needed to remind herself that Harry's mission here was nearly as important as her own. After all, the presence of Unspeakeables had to be top secret because if the American magical government (if you could even call it that) knew that they had been setting up operations, everything could explode in their faces.
"Have they said what their requirements are?" she asked.
"No, they've not said a thing. All they've done is listened – silently."
"Well, you have a week to figure this out, I'm sure you'll charm them."
He snorted. "I'm not sure they're charmable. And they won't even admit that they have a problem on their hands."
"A problem?"
Harry looked panicked. He knows more than I thought he did, she thought, watching his face carefully.
"You know…the pressures of joining…and the whole magic being wonky…and…you know, I'm feeling pretty tired, Gin, would you mind if I just have a quick kip? I want to hear all about your day, but I have to be back in the session in just an hour and I think I'm still jetlagged."
She did her best to keep the pleasure off her face. Honestly, she preferred not to spy on Harry whenever possible and this would give her a chance to get to work.
"Of course not. My editor has already asked me for a report of this trip and it doesn't sound like the Americans are giving you anything, so I may as well try and find some odd Muggle rituals. I was reading this brochure about some relaxing procedures that sound better than a calming charm so…"
Harry was so absorbed in his own almost slip-up that he wasn't listening to her at all, so she stopped there. Which was just as well.
She had a hunter to track.
III
Sam Winchester was, at least, very easy to spot. It was amazing to her that a man of that height who was that good-looking didn't attract far more attention than he did.
And it wasn't just his physical presence – there was something magnetic about the man that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
But no one seemed to double-take as he made his way through the city streets.
Maybe it was because he was so involved in a conversation with his…grandfather.
Now, that was odd.
According to their records, a demon had killed Samuel Campbell almost forty years earlier. Ginny would hardly consider herself an expert on Muggle aging but the man looked far closer to the 50 years old he had been when he died than he did to the 87 he would be if he were still alive today.
She had no idea how the Winchesters were resurrecting the dead and she was also not sure that she wanted to find out. Necromancy always came with a terrible price. Every single time.
No magic could bring back the dead. At least, no wizarding magic. And all other magic was anathema to the magic that she knew and loved.
She got close so she could hear the conversation between the two of them.
"I'm just saying that if we started with…"
"I hear you, Sam, but we have to tread carefully here. We cannot afford the same sort of screw-up that we had in Rhode Island. Who knows who got their hands on those bodies? How can we really know we killed those monsters and they are no longer a danger to the community if we didn't dispose of them ourselves?"
"I killed it," Sam hissed. "I'm far more concerned about what could have cleaned up the scene that well. That was professional. Scary professional – especially since I hadn't been away from the scene for more than an hour. If you ask me, we should go back and do some more digging."
"And get ourselves arrested?"
Sam appeared to concede the point.
"We have a case here. I'm going to go to the morgue…" The younger started to reply before he was interrupted, "by myself. You do your hocus pocus with that computer and see if you can't find out more from inline."
"Online," he corrected.
"Whatever. Just – stay here. I'll be back in an hour, tops."
"Yes, sir," there was slight sarcasm in his tone, and Samuel gave him a look, before heading out.
Sam watched him for a moment.
Ginny, invisible, was hoping that he would follow so she could see what they were working on now but, instead, the tall man just sighed, looked around, found a bar, and headed inside.
She wasn't authorized to follow anyone but the Winchester, so she couldn't follow Samuel, however much she may want to.
However, she did see this for the opportunity that it was. She slipped into an alley, cast a quick notice-me-not, and took off the invisibility cloak she had on loan from the Department. She double-checked what she was wearing (although she had taken a course in Muggle clothing, it still felt odd to her) before heading into the same bar she had watched the hunter go into.
Upon stepping in, she wrinkled her nose.
Ginny was no stranger to shit pubs but this…well, it was one of the dodgier ones she had ever seen. Her shoes stuck to the ground which was covered in something impossibly sticky. There were very few people inside. A couple, who were arguing at a booth near a window that was somehow let in almost no light, and two people, sitting three stools away from each other, both nursing drinks at the bar.
She could spot where Sam had seated himself at a table – already buried in his computer.
Doing her best to look like she wasn't confused she sat at the bar, just behind Sam's line of sight.
An exhausted-looking woman approached her from behind the counter. "What'll you have?" she asked in a voice that was even more tired sounding than she looked.
Ginny glanced at the beers available. "Margiekugel."
The woman nodded and, instead of pulling a pint from the tap, she reached into, what looked like a small cupboard, to pull out a cylinder container. She put it in front of Ginny.
"Kitchen's open for about twenty more minutes if you'd like anything, just holler."
No response was needed as the woman stepped out from behind the bar with a notepad in hand to go wait on Sam.
She stared at the object that had been placed in front of her. It almost looked like a glass but it was made of a different material entirely and the top was covered and there was some sort of…metal loop…on top. The thing was cold to the touch, which she wasn't expecting. Ginny carefully inspected it but could not find any holes. She shook it slightly and could hear the beer inside, teasing her, but could not, for the life of her figure out how to get to it. As tempting as it was, she couldn't simply pull out her wand and blast a hole into the thing.
Giving up, she took a sip of the water the waitress had placed in front of her. It was also cold – with more ice than liquid. Very irritating.
Time to focus on why she was here. If I have to stare at someone for hours, at least he's easy on the eyes, she thought to herself as she began her observation.
III
Sam was so focused on his research (which was yielding him nothing at the moment) that he almost missed the hot redhead at the bar.
She hadn't been there when he had entered but she was certainly the most attractive woman here. Not that that was a high bar – but she would be striking any room.
And it wasn't just her looks – although he certainly appreciated those. She drew his attention because there was something…off about her. The clothing she was wearing was odd. He wasn't one to normally notice women's clothing – he cared far more for what was underneath it, but it was like she had walked straight out of the 1960s. She was wearing bellbottoms made out of brown corduroy and a cardigan.
It was almost as if she had stepped straight out of the past.
Of course, that wasn't all. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was – but he had learned to trust his instincts after being a hunter for so long. She just seemed – otherworldly.
She had obviously noticed him as well. It felt like her eyes were burning a hole in his head.
It was her gaze that had made him finally notice her.
He let her watch for a while, scrolling through police records on his laptop. But he wasn't any closer to figuring out what the creature they were hunting was. He glanced down at the time – Samuel was late.
Well, all the better for him. He shut the laptop and made his way over to the bar.
The woman looked away as if she hadn't been staring at him for almost an hour.
Don't play coy, he thought to himself.
He saddled up to her. She said nothing.
"You looking to settle up?" The waitress asked.
"Nah. I'll take two of whatever she's drinking," Sam said. He was served the two drinks and he slid on over to the redhead. "Looks like you needed a refill," he said to her, cracking open the can and sliding it over to her. She jumped slightly at the pop that came from releasing air pressure in the can. It was then that he noticed that the beer in front of her was unopened. Weird.
She cocked her head to the side. "Thanks."
English! He thought. It made him think of Bela. Thinking back on it now, he wondered why he had wasted an opportunity to sleep with the woman. He bet she would have been game, even if she had turned out evil in the end.
"You're welcome. I'm Sam."
"Thank you, Sam," she replied, not giving him a name in return.
This one might be more difficult than the usual bimbo he'd been spending his time with recently. A challenge might be nice for once. Normally he wouldn't bother but he was intrigued.
"So, you're English?"
"British," she corrected.
"Right," he said, undeterred by her monosyllabic answers. The quiet ones always proved to be the most interesting. "What brings you to this side of the pond?"
"Well, I heard about this pub and I just couldn't keep myself away," she said with a completely straight face.
"And has it lived up to everything you ever thought it would?" He asked, having a difficult time keeping the smile off his face.
She raised her can of beer to him. "Indeed. And what brings you here – are you a charming local drunk?"
He laughed. "I think I'd have to drink a little more than this to fit that title. But no, I'm not local."
The woman arched an eyebrow.
"I…travel a lot for work," he said. "Don't really have a hometown."
"And what brings you here?"
"Pest control," he answered swiftly.
"Agent Roark," a voice behind them said. Sam closed his eyes for a second in frustration. Samuel had the worst timing.
"Agent Wynand," he greeted. "Find anything interesting?"
Samuel did not look impressed. It wasn't like this was the first time his grandfather had caught him with a woman at a bar. Not his fault that the old man didn't know how to let loose.
"I did. We've got to go," he said.
Sam took one more sip of his beer and slid his business card to the woman. "Duty calls. Call me later?"
She took the card. "I'll think about it," she smirked.
Oh, that's how you want to play it? He couldn't deny that brought out a reaction in him. Damn – he hoped she called.
"Agent!" Samuel snapped as he lingered.
He rolled his eyes. "See that you do," he followed the man out.
"Come on, Sam, we don't have time for townie floosies. People's lives are at risk!" Samuel rounded on him when they got out of the bar. "I swear if you weren't such a damn good hunter…"
"I know, I know. What did you find?"
"It's a Skinwalker."
"But all the victims have had their hearts intact!" Sam argued.
"Yeah, they did before they reached the morgue but after…"
"Right. Well, I've got my silver weapons in the back of the truck. Where are we headed?"
III
Ginny slipped out the back of the bar to follow the hunters. Meeting Sam had been different from what she was expecting. Although their file on him was not complete, it seemed to indicate that he was the warmer of the two brothers. More approachable. But she had felt like he was staring at her like a piece of meat. She shivered at the thought of his gaze.
It made her feel like she needed a shower.
But his interest in her was a good thing. Hopefully, he would be in this town for a couple of days so she could arrange to "run into" him a couple more times.
For now, though, she couldn't wait to see hunters in action.
She briefly debated sending a Patronus to Neville but decided against it, not wanting to give up her position. Instead, she pulled out a Galleon to send him a quick message, not wanting to break protocol any more than she already had. It wasn't the same one that she had used in her DA days – that one was kept safely tucked away at home, but one that was just between the two of them.
In pursuit, it said, with the coordinates of where she currently was.
It only took seconds to warm her with the response – Be Careful.
I always am, she smirked.
III
In theory, Sam knew that Skinwalkers weren't always dogs, but this was the first time that he had experienced them being any other animal.
But he had seen a woman transform from what looked to be a small bear to, well, a human, before his very eyes. There were several other the… creatures, also in the space. At least eight.
"What is that?" Samuel whispered to him from where they were crouched outside of an abandoned warehouse.
"A bear?" Sam guessed.
"Ain't like no bear I've ever seen," his grandfather muttered back.
"Look at its tail," Sam said, "that's not a bear, it kinda looks like a kangaroo."
"A kangaroo? In Wisconsin? How the hell did they expect to blend in here?"
"Maybe they released some from a local zoo – but this explains the marking on the bodies. Claw marks, like a bear."
"Do kangaroos even eat meat?" Samuel asked incredulously.
Sam was many things, but animal species were one of the few things that he had steered clear of in his higher education. It had been too close to hunting. And he had never had a case as a child where either Dean or their father had asked him to research freakin' kangaroos. He didn't respond to Samuel's question.
"It's still a Skinwalker, right? So, it can be killed with a silver bullet."
"Aren't you curious as to why a Skinwalker that can turn into a kangaroo is in the middle of Wisconsin?"
"Not really. It's just another monster that needs killing. I thought we were contending with two – maybe three based on the pattern we've seen. How many silver bullets you got in your gun?"
"Just one," Samuel admitted.
"Yeah, I've got two. We'll have to restock," he said reluctantly. "Unless you think we can shoot three of them and take care of the rest of them with our silver knives?"
Samuel looked at him like he was crazy.
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't want to risk them moving out before we take care of them."
"Better than giving up our lives. Who even knows what these bear kangaroos can do?"
Sam had no choice but to concede to the point.
"Right. Shouldn't take more than a half hour. Do you want to stay here and keep an eye on them while I go get the bullets?"
"I think I better come with you, son. Don't want any pretty redheads to distract you on the way."
Sam scoffed. He never let women get in the way of his hunts. But Samuel was in charge here, for better or worse, so he'd follow orders. It was easier that way.
"Fine. Let's go."
III
A quick spell told Ginny that these Skinwalkers were not, in fact, bears, as Sam had initially thought. They were Matschie's tree-kangaroos. She didn't remember everything from her magizoology course, but she was pretty sure that kangaroos were endemic to Australia.
She was almost relieved when the two hunters left to go get more bullets. They had parked a way up the road and she suspected it would take at least half an hour – if not longer, for them
These were likely highly dangerous creatures and she could take care of them before the Muggles returned. There was nothing to suggest that they were her sort of magical creature.
Which meant that she had blanket permission to get rid of the threat.
Well, at least as far as the Department of Mysteries goes, I have blanket permission. If she were in Australia, as they were part of the International Confederation of Wizards, she would also, legally, be able to dispatch the threat. Whatever passed as a government here in the United States may not approve but since they only reluctantly connected with the rest of the wizarding world, she wasn't too concerned.
Of course, there were the objectives of her mission as well. First, and foremost, she couldn't kill these creatures with a simple AK. (Which was fine by her – she did not like using the curse, not even on Mundies.) It was important for the death to not look "magical" to anyone in the know about their community. Demons didn't bother with them, for example, but they would be able to spot a magical death from a mile away.
She also needed to not call the attention of the hunters.
Ginny was fortunate that Sam Winchester had mentioned how to kill these creatures. Her knowledge was limited, but he seemed confident that silver would do it, and from what she knew of him and his brother, they were very competent hunters.
Thankfully her field kit had just what she needed.
Drawing the invisibility cloak tightly around herself she quickly and efficiently entered the warehouse where the Skinwalkers were meeting (she wasn't really paying attention to their conversation, although she did note their Australian accents). A couple of quick body-immobilizing curses locked them in place on the ground, eyes open.
She did her best not to look them in the eyes, but for her purposes, it was important that they remain open. They had killed at least half a dozen Muggles in town, so she didn't feel too guilty, but she never relished in killing.
Ginny pulled out the vial that was labeled AgNO3, uncorked it, and allowed a generous amount to fall into the palm of her hand.
One by one, she crouched over each Mundie and blew the silver powder into their eyes.
The curse she used ensured that they couldn't scream or even writhe but she could only imagine their discomfort as the silver entered their systems and killed them.
Once she was sure that they were dead she countered the curse and she watched as their bodies relaxed.
Alright, step one is done now I need…
Her train of thought was interrupted by rustling in the rafters.
They had been a lot quicker than she had ever imagined they would be. Sam's legs were long, but Samuel must be spryer than she thought he was.
That meant that she didn't have time to banish the bodies.
How long had they been there? She thought in a panic. Had they seen? She was invisible, but still, this would be considered a major breach.
She moved swiftly to get out of the main space and to a place where she could hear any conversation between the two hunters.
Abispa was going to be pissed.
III
If he hadn't had the old man with him, Sam could have made it to the truck and back in under ten minutes. For being such a legendary hunter, Samuel was slow.
Something was prickling in Sam's senses that they needed to quick.
Carefully, about ten minutes later than he would have liked, they returned to the spot where they could peer down into the warehouse.
Samuel had a pair of binoculars on him.
"Are they all… lying down?" Sam whispered as his grandfather looked through the device.
"They're down alright. Can't tell if they're sleeping or dead."
Sam grabbed the binoculars as Samuel made a slight noise of protest.
The Shapeshifters, almost all in human form, only one or two as the bear-kangaroo-like creature, looked as though they had all been knocked to the ground. The positions of their bodies didn't appear to be natural to sleeping animals or humans.
"We have to get a closer look," he said, tossing the binoculars to Samuel before moving back out from their hidey-hole.
If something had killed them, they wouldn't be far, so Sam went in with his gun raised, Samuel following not far behind, swearing at him.
He did a quick sweep of the place.
It was completely silent. And there was no sign of anyone.
When he was done looking around, he found Samuel leaning over the bodies.
"Dead," the older man confirmed.
"How?"
"I don't see any puncture marks or gun wounds."
Sam went to investigate himself. "No blood, anywhere."
"And their eyes are open, see?"
For the first time, Sam looked at the eyes of the deceased creatures. They were wide with fear but they also looked swollen.
"Look at their eyes, Samuel," Sam instructed.
"What about their eyes?"
"See anything…unusual?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know what is unusual for these things?"
"Just look! At the human eyes, if nothing else."
Samuel stooped down. "They're red."
"And swollen. Whoever killed them did it through their eyes."
"But why? A gunshot would've been easier. How did they even get close enough to do something to their eyes?"
"Beats me. But I know I don't want to be here if they come back to clean up." He did want to be there, actually, but
Samuel looked up at him sharply. "You think this is connected to the Arachne in Rhode Island?"
"Possibly. Seems like too much of a coincidence, doesn't it?"
Samuel groaned. "You should go get the truck. We'll load these things up and take them back to the compound. Study them – see if we can determine what killed them."
Sam nodded. That made sense, although he wasn't sure that they were going to be able to discover much of anything. As he made his way out of the warehouse, he stopped for a second. Stuck on a jagged piece of wood was a single, long, red hair.
He glanced over at the human monsters. None of them had red hair. He could feel the goosebumps form on his arms.
"What're you waiting on, kid? Get moving!" Samuel called at him.
Sam thought about saying something. But ultimately, decided to keep this one to himself. He went back out into the night.
III
Ginny was about to leave the scene (she had only narrowly dodged Sam's search of the premises) after the younger hunter went to get the truck. She didn't like that they were going to the bodies, but there wasn't anything she could do about that right now.
But as she grabbed her wand to apparate, she heard Samuel talking to someone. She doubled back because she had thought that it had only been him and Sam.
Samuel was talking on a black box held up to his ear.
Vaguely, she remembered Hermione showing her something like this one time. A mobile phone.
"Yeah – Sam thinks it has something to do with the last time," he was saying.
Suddenly, a man in a dark coat appeared in front of Samuel. The old man jumped at the same time Ginny did at the sudden appearance.
For a second, she worried that it was a witch or wizard. That would really blow this case up to a possible international incident.
But upon looking a little closer, she recoiled.
Demon.
He was talking angrily at Samuel but she couldn't hear what he was saying. Oh, oh, oh. This was so much more.
She needed to get out of there. And she couldn't risk apparating.
Moving backward, she noted a few more details of the creature meeting with Samuel before getting out of there as quickly as possible.
It looked like she was going to need to extend her trip to the United States.
AN - Hello! Welcome to my newest crossover. I wasn't going to publish this on ff dot net but I couldn't stop myself. I reserve the right to stop if the reviews get weird and creepy again. (Most weren't - but I had to block some people last time.) This is not the same universe/magic system as my last fic. There is no MACUSA, as you have probably already surmised. This also starts as Hinny, but that will not last, the end game is Ginny/Sam. Part One takes place in between Seasons Five and Six of Supernatural. Part Two will pick up after Sam gets his soul back in Season Six. I plan to update weekly (Fridays again, probably) with breaks in between parts.
The title is from the song Risque by Cute is What we Aim For.
Please review, like, and follow!