Author: Angel of Friday Night PM
"He'd decided to call it an Investment, of sorts. A long-term one. If Azazel got to have himself a secret weapon kid, why couldn't he?"Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural - Harry P. & Crowley - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,224 - Reviews: 109 - Favs: 317 - Follows: 622 - Updated: 01-06-13 - Published: 12-10-12 - id: 8782319
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Fandom: Supernatural x Harry Potter AU
Characters: Lots of them
[A/N:] Man, I haven't written anything for a while. I am now horribly embarrassed by old stories I had; I have deleted most of them for a fresh start, haha, though I think I'll rewrite a few because the plots are still okay… Anyhow, I'm breaking back in with this experimental story inspired by similar ones when perusing the Supernatural x Harry Potter crossovers.
A Supernatural x Harry Potter crossover
By S. Voltaire
By definition of his job, Crowley had been all around the world at one point or another (polar icecaps aside, but humans created roads in the strangest of places, so maybe someday…) and had conducted business wherever two paths had been crossed. He'd worked country lanes and city parks, arid plains and gravel underbellies of major highways, and even a thin crossing of two deer trails that had barely scraped past qualifications. Once, he'd visited a construction worker at a concrete intersection, who'd ripped it up for remodeling scarcely the day before and had taken advantage of the bare ground exposed underneath.
Crowley had been wherever the stories of the crossroads demons had reached. His rounds were mostly in the areas of Europe and America, but Russia and Australia had seen their fair amount of visits, with South America posing some competition and Asia lagging behind them all. He would always remember that one, brief trip to South Africa sometime in the fifties… mainly from the heat, though, and how uncomfortably sticky his meat suit was afterwards.
If inquired about to his personal favorite haunts, the demon would probably shrug in disinterest due to zero preference (in context of sales ratings would be another subject entirely) but if you were lucky, he might admit to having a kind of fondness for the shores of the United Kingdom. There was no real reason behind this, and it was definitely not due to any past-life connections he might have had; there was just a certain charm to it, whether from the old magic still flowing richly in the bones of the earth, or the ethereal feel of a midnight call under the moon. A hint of the old magic could still be found in the air there, which was why Crowley had no qualms about sticking around a while longer when a business call brought him to the West Country of England.
More specifically, he decided to take a spin around a little village a scant few kilometres from where the successful deal went down, and so the King of the Crossroads swept in one late winter afternoon to Godric's Hollow, with his hands in the pockets of his long black coat and the mindset of a prospective salesman scoping out new territory.
(There was nothing like a bit of cold calling to end the day; as it was, some customers just needed a little push out the door to get them started.)
Dusk had fallen, and not a single soul in the village seemed tempted to do anything more drastic than go a glass or two over their usual limit at the pub, where Crowley had naturally gravitated on protocol. Bars, clubs, anywhere that sold alcohol were ideal places for scouting, as loosened tongues and lowered inhibitions made for the best combination in worming out desires of the heart.
Only, these people didn't seem to have any they considered worth selling their souls over. It was almost disgustingly optimistic here. After working the place twice over, Crowley simply conceded defeat and retired to a corner booth with a view of the doors, in the lazy hopes of some kind of corrupted soul walking over threshold and into his sights. For the next few hours there was none of the kind at all; just happy village folk coming in to visit with friends and family, all part of the domestic scene he was not overly fond of. At least the drinks were good, and were perhaps the only reason he stayed long enough, for the moment she walked into the pub at Godric's Hollow.
Her name was Lily. He knew so from the calls that greeted her as she passed him by. He also knew that she had a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen.
And, most interestingly of all, she was covered in the oppressive aura of one in complete and utter despair.
Now, that was the sort of the person he was looking for.
The King of the Crossroads would have approached her then and there, if it hadn't seemed that Fate itself was steering her into his grasp; for as he watched, she was making her way slowly around the busy pub, greeting friends and neighbors with a fake smile and quiet sort of desperation that marked someone about to make a decision no one would approve of, and was reaffirming themselves of their convictions.
That, and there was a certain amount of black-magic residue practically oozing from the pocket of her jacket, and Crowley smiled an all-around unpleasant sort of smile when he recognized just what it was she was carrying; a box. A box he was quite sure contained the timeless recipe of herbs, bones, a coin, and a photo.
The woman was summoning a devil tonight.
He would make sure not to disappoint.
She didn't stay long, in the end, once she completed her round. Just as suddenly she had appeared, she was leaving, turning up her collar to shield her from the wind as she stepped out into the cold night.
As she passed his table, their eyes met, briefly. He did nothing; she shivered, and looked away.
Crowley stayed in the corner booth by the doors for an hour more until the call came. Then he stood, his eyes flashing red for the briefest of moments, and he was gone into the night. Nobody missed him.
Frost edged the blades of grass, running all along the rough dirt roads; two, running perpendicular to each other until they met, and crossed. It was in the middle that she stood, over an overturned patch of earth freshly disturbed; the box from her pocket was gone. It was a cold night, and she had turned the collar up against her neck to ward off some of the chill.
He observed from the shadows, not quite ready to make his appearance yet. Part of the sales pitch was timing; too soon and the customer would be thrown off by the sudden reality that they were considering selling their soul. Too long, and some of the tension would wear off. Or they might leave thinking the stories weren't true after all.
(No, a good crossroads demon knew just the right time to appear, right when the customer's guard was lowered yet some of the apprehension remained. It was a fine art, and Crowley wasn't known as the King for no good reason…)
Her back was turned towards when he appeared, and she didn't sense his presence until he spoke, and she was already ensnared in the beginning of her descent to hell.
"Evening, love," he drawled into the frigid air, and his customer whirled around with a smothered gasped at his suddenness of being there. Her green eyes were wide as she took him in, but to her credit she controlled her fright rather well, and though her eyes stayed wide, it was with forcible control that her breath stayed even and her stayed set in a neutral expression.
"You'd be the crossroad demon, then," she said simply, words rising as mist in front of her.
"That, I would. Ah, but you have me at a disadvantage," Crowley grinned back, his teeth flashing almost feral-like in the light from a waning moon, "What do they call you, lass?"
She straightened, raising her chin as she replied,
"Potter. Lily Potter."
Lily Potter had red hair, Crowley noted, that took the color of dried blood under a treatment of moon and shadow. Red hair and green eyes… a stunning combination. It suited her well.
"Lily," he repeated, now taking the liberty of a few steps forward, and he saw her lips thin from his unsolicited use of her first name. "And what can I do for you on this fine night? Assuming you do realize what it is I do," he said in a courteous tone, keeping himself arms' length away and neutral.
(Another tip of crossroad dealing; keep the customer thinking that they were the ones in control through politeness and professional appearance. Crowley hadn't lost a customer since his first hundred years on the job.)
"That's Mrs. Potter, first off, and yes, I do know what I'm doing here," Lily fairly snapped back, to which the demon conceded with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Then by all means, carry on," he said with a wider grin, and for a minute his eyes were glowing red even in the shadows, before he blinked and the color was gone.
Here, despite her brief bravado, she hesitated again. She was still doubtful, Crowley noted. He'd have to work at that.
"Is it… true," Lily said carefully, faltering slightly, "That you can grant any request?" Her hands were twisting together as she spoke, betraying her nerves.
Crowley considered this.
"Well, I imagine there are some limitations," he admitted, "But as I hardly know what you want yet, I can't really say, can I? Try me. You might be surprised." White teeth flashed again.
Still, Lily hesitated. Her hands fell apart, fisting at her sides before she brought them together again. Then, she took a deep breath, steeling her resolve, meeting his eyes with her own brilliant green ones…
"I… want a child. I need to have a child," said Lily Potter, and while Crowley had heard all sorts of requests and generally had no reaction what humans asked for these days…
"…Interesting. I'll admit that I'm a little surprised at that," the demon said as he blinked at her, and truthfully he was, just a bit. "One generally doesn't hear such requests in my line of work."
"I know, it sounds mad. I must be insane. I am insane! I just… there's nothing left for me to do," said Lily, and sounded as if she were slipping back into her despair. "…I just… can't. On my own…"
Crowley regarded her carefully, noting how her arms had wrapped around herself, how she was looking down in shame.
"Are you unable to conceive, then?" he guessed, and knew he was right when she flinched, not meeting his eyes. "My condolences. It occurs to me, however, that there are… what are they… places in which to choose orphaned children from?" The demon waved his hand vaguely, though his eyes never left her face. Lily sighed.
"It's not that simple," she mumbled, "If I could, then…"
Suddenly she shook her head, red hair running in waves down her back as she seemed irritated with herself.
"I love my husband," she stated plainly, firmly, "But the truth is that… he was raised in a certain sort of mindset and… has a certain kind of expectation. He came from a… elite family as you might say, and I… didn't."
She swallowed thickly.
"He's gotten better since we first met, but there are still times when… when his upbringing comes through. I can't adopt. He'd honestly see it as a… a disgrace to the family name. I haven't even told him about my problem yet, I really only found out a few months ago myself, but… I'm afraid that if I tell him I can't have children… for all he says that he loves me… I'm honestly afraid that he'll… leave."
Lily trailed off, staring at some fixed point in the distance, and a silence fell between them.
Meanwhile Crowley's mind was racing at dangerous levels as he thought it all out.
(He'd listened to her story and taken note of all the important points; more often than not a client would launch into a sob story or story-of-their-life unasked at one point or another, usually as a way to justify their desire to themselves, and like any good salesman he'd politely listen and follow up with whatever made them feel better about themselves before bringing the final product up for their consideration…)
This woman, entirely of her own free will, was practically offering herself up to whatever way he saw fit to grant her wish. She was at his very disposal, and he knew she would agree to whatever he laid before her, because he could see that certain kind of desperation that pushed humans to do mad things for the sake of themselves or others; usually the latter.
There was an idea brewing in the back of his head, either a brilliant one or a mad one; he hadn't decided yet.
"What you're asking then, Mrs. Potter, is for me to… give you a child, you might say?" he ventured carefully, and Lily hesitated slightly before nodding.
"Yes. Even just one is all I want."
Crowley had to fight back his biggest grin of the night, one that probably would have alarmed her, and as it was he was already smiling widely.
See, it was all in the wording.
"Well, then! My dear, you'd be glad to know that I can grant your request, to the very order," the demon said, drawing his hands form his pockets and clapping them loudly together. Lily's eyes brightened at his words, and hope shined briefly until the natural suspicious began to sink in, and she eyed him.
"…What's the catch?" she said warily, and Crowley gave her his best winning smile.
"Catch? Oh, no catch. We seal the deal, you get a visit from a magical stork, everyone lives happily ever after… oh. Except for the small matter… of you living with the fact that your child would not be your husband's."
She was alarmed. As he knew she would be. But he would make sure that this deal was made this night, for this human woman had given him the perfect opportunity…
…to bring a cambion into the world.
Two years ago, a special child had been born in America. It was a child subject to Azazel's strange experiments, and, if whispers were to be believed, was the destined vessel of Lucifer himself.
The child's name was Sam Winchester. And it was written that he would be the one to bring about the end of the world.
Already the whispers had spread like wildfire among the most devout demons, and no doubt others would soon follow. There were plans being made, big plans, and hell even his Boss was getting interested in things topside.
Problem was, Crowley didn't really care much for these plans.
"You see, Mrs. Potter… can I call you Lily? Lily is a much nicer name… I would be the one to give you this child of yours. I unfortunately can't make it appear out of nowhere." He began to pace around her, in a slow circle that she followed, craning her neck to keep him in sight. "It would be one time only… almost a one-night stand as you might say." He winked at her. She scowled, implications sinking in. "That, I suppose, would be the catch."
The demon came to a stop behind her again, and when Lily Potter turned to see him clearly she found him stand much closer to her than before, his eyes glistening with cold points of light.
"That will be the consequence of dealing with me tonight, Lily," he purred, lazily tilting his head, "I can give you your child… and you will live ten years knowing that it will be different from all the others. Can you live with that knowledge, I wonder? Knowing the legacy you leave to be a lie? And if your husband ever finds out, I wonder how he would react to a child of… different blood? Hmm?"
She'd been staring over his shoulder as he spoke, refusing to meet his eyes, but only when he finished did she turn to him.
"Trying to scare me off, Mr. Demon?" she said coolly. Only her voice betrayed her feelings, trembling, but not with fear. "I came her knowing there'd be consequences. Honestly, I don't think it will matter… there's been… something telling me that my child will be different no matter what I do. He's going to need all the difference he can get."
"He? You seem sure of yourself, there." Crowley pulled away. He studied her, her figure, her pale skin and red hair.
Lily Potter took one long, deep breath, holding it in, releasing it in an even rush of air.
And she took the plunge.
"I never did find how the deal itself is made," she whispered, "Do I sign something in blood, or…?"
"Nothing like that. I'm sure you've heard the expression 'sealed with a kiss?' In my line of business, we do just that. Though in your case…"
The demon reached forward, and took a lock of her hair, letting slide between his fingers before he finished his answer.
"…it's going to take a kiss, and a little bit more."
He decided to call it an Investment, of sorts. A long-term one.
If Azazel got to have himself a secret weapon kid, why couldn't he? If the day truly came when the Devil himself walked the earth again, he'd need it to secure his position, maybe throw off the Apocalypse a bit. Naturally he couldn't speak a word of this to anyone, but he could see it clearly in his mind: He/she would be born, spend ten years out of sight with his mother while learning the order of things, then he would swing by with a hound and pick up the child and his promised soul alike in a two-birds-one-stone kind of way.
He'd have his secret weapon all ready to be trained, and that would be that.
Almost… an Anti-Antichrist. That had a rather catchy ring to it.
Yes, Crowley liked this Investment; he couldn't wait to see what came out of it, and though he was on the other side of the world the morning after Lily woke again with the pact sealed, it wasn't far from his mind, with the factors taken account and everything.
What Crowley hadn't factored in, however, was a certain prophecy made not long after Harry Potter was born to Lily and James Potter, witch and wizard, of Godric's Hollow, or the events that would follow accordingly.
He most certainly didn't take into account the actions of one Lord Voldemort.
[A/N:] Hey, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed. As you can see I'm taking some liberties with HP, (Sorry James, I made you a bit of an arse (and at the same time I hope I made Crowley enough of an arse heheh)) but that's the joy of AU. For reference, I fiddled with the timeline for HP a bit and shifted it up five years. Harry being born in 1980 made him a little too old and 1990 made him a little too young in my opinion, so I went with the nice middle ground of '85.
In general, this story will probably be kind of drabble-ish, with chapters being loosely connected but all part of a larger plot. Mainly I'm practicing to get back into writing fanfiction… though wow this chapter turned out long.
Hope I did the characters justice…
Currently re-watching all the SPN episodes with Crowley in them so I can remember details.