Challenge prompt by Samuel Duchesne: A Ghost Rider/HP/Supernatural where Harry is raised by Crowley and given Ghost Rider powers. (Fem Harry is acceptable.)

Challenge Accepted.

For full details look up the challenge itself.

Consider this your Christmas Gift from your favorite author to you, the fans~!

The young girl stared at the massive spice cabinet in awe. There were spices she had never even heard of! Mrs. Figg, her babysitter, didn't seem to notice the gleam in the girl's eyes. Or that the girl borrowed a few of the stranger vials.

Normally she would never take things without permission, but the woman she lived with had yelled at her the day before for not putting enough spices into the food she had to cook. She didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

The girl carefully measured out the spices in a way the woman wouldn't realize she was making her own recipe. However the woman's son, smelling the food being cooked, came in at the last second causing her to slip with the knife and a few drops of blood splashed into the pot. She slipped the last extra spice she had borrowed from Mrs. Figg's cabinet, hiding the fact she was bleeding.

However, when she went to take the pot off the fire, without warning the entire thing exploded. She narrowly avoided being hit by the blast.

The woman and the pig on two legs weren't so lucky. They were hit full on with the concoction.

"You stupid girl! What did you do?" snarled the woman.

She didn't bother to tell her the truth. It was bad enough they had gotten hit with what was supposed to be dinner. Being all but thrown into the cupboard she called her room, she knew that she would be lucky to get any food for a few days.

In America...

Crowley was irritated. Some idiot in his home turf had just sent out a very strong summoning spell. And from how rough around the edges it was, he had the feeling they didn't know what it was!

However, he wasn't dropping everything just to answer some idiot wizard with a god complex. He dealt with enough of that crap in the pit.

"Dave! Go find out who the hell sent out that open summoning spell and deal with it!" shouted Crowley.

Dave was one of the lackeys he had picked up from the demon he killed when he took over the Crossroads. He was one of the few who were smart enough not to bitch too much around Crowley once he took over. Or at least not within hearing range. Crowley had developed his habit of blasting people with hellfire if they pissed him off too much within an Earth year of taking over.

Dave shrugged and went through the pit to find out who had tried to summon the King of the Crossroads this time. Most wizards, upon seconds of learning that demons could boost their natural core, had the most annoying habit of calling the top demon in charge of Crossroad deals to insure they got a good one.

It had gotten so bad ten years ago that Crowley allowed some of his more loyal minions act in his stead just because he was tired of it. It all came back to Crowley in the end, so he never saw a problem with it.

The next day Dave came back with an incredulous look on his face.

"You're not going to believe this."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. The second Dave mentioned who had sent the spell up (evidently without knowing what they were doing) his mouth dropped.

"She summoned a demon?"

"From what I could tell by reading the aunt's mind, she messed up a basic stew that exploded. It didn't hit her, but it did hit the aunt and cousin. I'm guessing their life force is what made it so strong, not that it's any loss. From their soul alone it's pretty clear they're pit bound anyway."

Crowley reached for his good scotch. This was big.

Everyone had heard of the girl-who-lived. The one destined to kill the idiot known as Riddle. The only reason the hell hounds hadn't ripped the fool up before now was because he had done something to hide him from their noses. He had a few suspicions what he had done, but no way to prove it.

"Are you absolutely sure she's the one who sent out that spell?"

"I nicked this off her when I passed her on the street."

Crowley looked at the dried herbs. It was one of the main ingredients for the summoning spell. One of the few that couldn't be substituted anyway. Where in the pit did that girl get her hands on that amount of bloodroot?

"Right. How close were you able to get to her?"

"I was barely able to get close enough to steal this. Whatever wards are around her, they're extremely strong."

"Take the month off. I'll handle this. If we're lucky we might be able to nab and corrupt her," said Crowley.

If the girl-who-lived really had summoned a demon by mistake, then this was the perfect chance to stick it to Heaven and the Magicals. With how high-profile she was above and below, there was no way he was chancing Lilith hearing about this.

And if Dave was right, he would just need to prove his loyalty to Crowley in order to get the really juicy assignments from now on.

One week later...

Crowley walked into England for the first time in well over two decades...and the area he was in nearly made him vomit. He wished he could claim it was whatever wards the girl had on her, but that would be a blatant lie.

The place was so sickeningly...normal. It was far too picturesque for anyone with even the most remote amount of anything interesting about them to stand it for more than a few days before boredom inevitably set in.

On the other hand, this type of neighborhood usually meant a lot of deals could be had. The people who lived in these areas were beyond petty and usually needed very little in the way of convincing to sell their souls over.

Crowley kept walking until he felt the spell end. There in the yard was a little girl with dirty hair that could either be red or black. With that much dirt it was hard to really tell.

He took one look at the woman in the shade watching the girl with a cold expression on her face and knew Dave's assessment of her soul was correct. With that amount of darkness in her she was pit bound no matter what she did...unless some angel decided to do a little extreme slumming or was trying to hide in the most corrupt soul he had seen outside the pit in months.

The woman's eyes met his own, and Crowley smirked. Time to do a little nudging.

Petunia Dursley was a cruel, spiteful, jealous woman who hated her sister for everything she stood for. Her sister had inherited their mother's good looks, all the intelligence of their father, and to top it off she even got the gift of magic. Then to snub her elder sister even more, she married a rich noble, had a daughter and was living the high life while Petunia was stuck with a fat slob of a husband who drank too much and a child that was about as intelligent as a head of lettuce.

So when she ended up being stuck with her damn sister's spawn, she wasn't just angry...she was furious. If she couldn't take her out her jealousy on Lily, she would take it out on her brat.

Seeing the stranger outside, her initial assumption was 'wizard'. That went out the window the more she looked at him. He looked more like a banker, which was definitely more normal than any she had ever come across. There was still something off about him though.


The distinct (and genuine) British accent kept her from telling him to get lost.

She barked at the brat to keep weeding, before she went to see what this man wanted.

"I see you have a girl you don't want. What if I told you I could make it so that you and your husband didn't need to work ever again?"

"Keep talking."

"I'm in the neighborhood for a All I need is a signature and not only will I take the girl off your hands permanently, but I can insure that the magicals leave you alone for the rest of your natural lives."

Petunia's interest was definitely peaked.

"Let's see what you're offering first," she stated flatly. A chance to be rid of that damn brat and be rich?

The man smirked. He brought out a piece of parchment, which only made her wonder if he was a wizard who just knew how to blend in better than most of them. Once she had a good look at the terms, she gained a smirk of her own.

All she would need was her signature and that of Vernon, and he would take the brat and give them more money than they had ever dreamed of. She did wonder what the ten year limit was, but decided with the amount of potential cash she didn't need to worry about it.

"What about the brat?"

"Brat's extra. I can take her off your hands for free, but it has to be outside the limits of whatever wards some idiot placed over this house. And nowhere near holy ground either," said the man.

"Would the mall work?" she asked.

"Anywhere I could slip off with her and no one would notice she left with someone she didn't come in with," he replied.

"I know just the place."

A few days later she signed the contract, not really noticing the papercut until a few hours later, and so did her husband. He was just as eager to be rid of the girl as she was. The next morning Vernon bought a ticket, as was his habit just before the lotto numbers came out...and when the drawing happened, she was shocked and delighted when every single number he picked out came up on the monitor. The amount of cheering in their house that night nearly got the police called on them for excessive noise.

The girl looked at the man that woman handed her over to warily. She had heard countless gory tales from the woman's husband about how she was beyond lucky they hadn't sold her off at some point to the monsters that preyed on little girls like her.

Well it looked like they had gotten tired of her and had sold her off anyway.

"Now, my little hellion, did they bother giving you a name?" asked the man.

She shook her head. She was lucky they had even bothered to send her to school. Though from what she understood they had little choice if they didn't want to be arrested.

If it wasn't for that woman forcing her to do both sets of homework, despite the fact she was in a different class from the pig, she wouldn't even know her letters or numbers as well as she did.

The man sighed.

"First thing's first. You're going to be cleaned up."

A woman with black eyes took her into the back. It was pretty clear they wanted her to wash herself off before they did anything else. With the smell of food coming from the kitchen, she could only hope he at least was nicer than that woman.

She delighted in the fact they were letting her use the warm water to clean up in. They didn't drag her out after five minutes either. Aside from making sure she didn't drown in the tub, she was able to enjoy getting clean.

The next surprise was the fact they had clothes that fit her. The rags she had been wearing had been destroyed, apparently.

Seeing the food on the table, she was somewhat relieved that she was expected to eat some of it. Considering that woman never really fed her properly, she had trouble eating large amounts of food at a time.

To top everything off, she was given her own room, with a proper bed and covers. She was out like a light within seconds.

"Girl's quiet," commented Elisa.

"Considering that horse faced idiot was treating her worse than the pure blooded wizards treat their house elves, is that really any surprise? I can't wait to see the expression on that goat's face when he realizes who's poached his precious pawn," sneered Crowley.

He was going to keep her his secret weapon against Voldemort. And unlike Dumbledore, who was such a pacifist that he preferred the 'hands off' approach to training, Crowley wasn't leaving anything to chance. Once the girl was old enough he was training her how to really use magic, and not with those silly sticks most of her kind relied on.

For the next week and a half, they kept an eye on her. Most of the time Crowley had the few demons who took female hosts keeping her out of things she shouldn't touch. She took the warnings fairly well, considering she was almost six years old...and looked three.

At this point he was bringing her back up to full health before he started corrupting her. So long as she associated good things with demons, there wasn't a chance in heaven that the angels would be able to get her to return to that house.

He had already filled his end of the bargain by helping the fat walrus win the local lottery. He almost wanted to see their faces when the hellhounds came for them in ten years.

She had already gained twenty pounds in weight in less than a month. Considering she was lighter than most of his hellhound pups, that was a good thing in his mind.

Three months into taking the girl in, he had the biggest shock of his life.

The girl had disappeared for an hour.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"I don't know! I let her leave my sight for a few minutes and she vanished!"

"Well she hasn't left the property, not with the tracking spell I laced her with on the first week. So get off your asses and find her!"

"Um sir?" said Dave sheepishly.


"I may have an idea where she went."

Crowley narrowed his eyes at Dave. He lead the demon to the pens, where they kept the hellhounds. There, inside the cage of the most feral one Crowley owned that he only let out on the particularly annoying cases, was the girl. The dog was actually letting her pet the puppies.

It wouldn't let Crowley or Dave into the cage at all. Not without a growl warning she was about to bite their heads off.


"I have no idea. I thought I was imagining seeing her inside here, but when I heard she was missing I came to check and found her inside the cage. The damn thing won't let me anywhere near her or the puppies."

Crowley almost felt relief.

"How did you get in there?" he asked the girl.

"I saw them, and let her get used to me. She doesn't mind me much because she knows I don't want to take her babies from her."

Crowley stared. The girl kept petting the feral mother, who accepted her presence without a hint of protest, aside from glaring at him.

"Are you going to stay in there all day or are you going to come out to eat?" he asked finally.

She perked up a the mention of food. While she wasn't like the fat pig of her cousin, she did still need to eat more to regain weight before she was in a more healthy weight class.

The feral mother nudged her. It wasn't in an aggressive manner, but more maternal. Crowley would never had believed that one would let anyone near her, especially when she had puppies.