The Interview

Disclaimer: If I owned these things, this would be canon in both series. Obviously, that isn't the case.

A/N: I'd like to thank all of those who reviewed the first chapter for their lovely reviews. I would also like to warn all readers that if Ron/Hermione and/or Neville/Luna (or Luna/Anyone) is your One True Pairing, please keep in mind that this is a parody. I really like those pairings, but I couldn't help myself.


Dean Winchester was sitting at a table in the Leaky Cauldron in London, drinking butterbeer and reading the Daily Prophet. It had been two days since he murdered Voldemort and that was all the Wizarding press was covering. Of course, no one actually knew that Dean was Voldemort's killer; they assumed that that nutty Harry Potter kid had done it, and Harry naturally took credit.

Dean had gotten accustomed to not taking a lot credit for his work—not with the authorities or the press, anyway, and even though he didn't care all that much, this Potter kid still got to him. The kid was a complete wuss; he was too soft to be a killer. So why were these people so convinced?

"Are you Dean?"

Dean looked up from the paper and saw that a pretty young woman with dark brown eyes and a lot of bushy brown hair had sat down next to him.

He flashed his trademark grin. "That depends on whose askin'."

"I was there the other night," she told him quietly, looking not at him but at the table, "I saw you kill L-Lord V-V-Voldemort."

"Funny, I didn't see you." He put the newspaper down and turned to face her.

"I was in another room. I was helping Harry along with some other friends; we fended off some of the Death Eaters so he could get to Voldemort. I hid behind a door just in time to see you kill him."

"So you're one of Potter's friends?"

"Yes, we've been close friends for a long time."

"Listen, Miss—"

"Hermione Granger." She looked him straight in the eye now.

"Listen, Hermione, if you and your buddies want to pay me and my brother for our silence, don't bother. We won't say anything. It's our job, and we're used to not taking too much credit—not for the truth, anyway."

"Actually, I'm asking the opposite. The Wizarding world has a right to know the truth. And Harry has always been prone to ranting and venting his angst, but now it's unbearable. In public, he snaps at anyone who says anything about that night; in private, he goes on and on about how he has to take credit for the murder because it's his responsibility, his destiny…you get the picture. I think that if the truth gets out, maybe he'll just stop."

"And how exactly did you plan on getting the word out?"

"I can get you an interview with a reporter this afternoon, and I can guarantee that the article will appear in my friend's magazine tomorrow."

Dean appeared to consider the offer as he stroked his chin. Then he smiled cheekily. "What's in it for me?"

Hermione was obviously taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"Sweetheart, I don't do this sort of thing for free."

"I will not pay you one Knut."

"Pay me what? Then maybe…" he whispered in her ear.

"No. Absolutely not."

"I didn't think you were that kind of girl, anyway."

"Oh? Tell me, Dean: What kind of girl am I?"

"You seem like the hard-working, straight-A student type, like my younger brother."

"Well, yes, your assessment is rather accurate."

"So, maybe you could go out with me."

"What?"

"Just a nice, innocent little date. We don't even have to…you know. It'll probably be a first for me."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Well, then, I guess you're going to have to put up with Captain Angst."

"Wait—I'll go out with you. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes. Meet me here around seven?"

"Sure. Come back with your brother in about an hour for the interview."


"Dean, why are we doing this again?" Sam asked as they left their room and headed to the pub.

"It's for the common good, Sammy. Plus, I get a date out of it," Dean told him.

"Whoop-dee-doo," Sam said flatly.

When they reached the bar, Hermione was already sitting at a table with two blonde women. One was rather petite and looked to be about Hermione's age. The other was middle-aged, wore an awful pair of cat-eye glasses, and had her hair done in layers of thick sausage curls. The latter held a quill and notepad.

"Hello, Dean," Hermione greeted cheerfully.

"Hello again, Hermione. This is my brother, Sam," Dean told her. Sam smiled at her.

"And your last names are…" said Sausage-Curls Woman, who was obviously a reporter.

"Winchester," they answered at once.

"I'm Rita Skeeter," the woman told them as she shook hands with them roughly and gave them a false smile. "Former reporter for the Daily Prophet. Now I'm…what's the Muggle word? Ah, yes, freelance."

"And this is Luna Lovegood," Hermione told them, gesturing to the small blonde, who, they had just noticed, hadn't taken her eyes off of Sam since they came to the table. "Her father runs The Quibbler, the magazine in which the article will be appearing."

"I believe you," Luna said timidly.

"So, let's get started, shall we?" Rita said briskly.


Much later that night, Hermione Granger left the Winchesters' room in the inn; her bushy hair was very tousled, her shirt was inside out, and she had a dazed but happy look on her face.


The Winchesters' interview was the spark that lit a huge fire. For months, people argued over whether Dean or Harry had killed Lord Voldemort. After a while, the people who stood by Harry finally saw reason and decided that they were wrong since Harry did not know how to use a gun or a machete. The Wizarding world forever remembered the Muggle brothers who destroyed the Dark Lord and two of his most prominent followers; they started calling Harry Potter "The Incompetent Boy Who Survived On Dumb Luck."


A/N: I hoped you liked it. I know it was a lot longer than the first chapter, but the plot bunnies kept attacking. Review, please.