So... a new story for me! I really ought not to be writing as I have loads of school work, but my muse simply wouldn't leave me be. This is just the prologue. Hope you guys enjoy and please do review. I'm very nervous about writing a HP/Supernatural Crossover.
Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!
Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors!
Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turns twenty-three in July of 2003. I also haven't chosen a pairing. Feel free to make suggestions.
Edit: I had a reviewer ask so I thought I would clarify: No bashing will occur. The fight found within the prologue isn't meant to be bashing.
Blood of the Father
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes:
MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47
The first time it happened, Harry was certain it was just a coincidence.
It was a Monday, a day Harry would have hated on sheer principle if not for the very real reason why he found the day so deplorable. Strictly speaking, it was because Harry's M.N.R. otherwise known as The Magical Protections for Abuse Against Nonmagical Persons Report or as Harry had dubbed it - The Mind Numbingly boring Report - was always always due first thing Monday mornings. At 9 o'clock sharp, not 8:59 or 9:01, but at 9 o'clock sharp, Harry was supposed to be sitting wedged inside his tiny office waiting for Mr. Rudenheim, his rolypoly superior to pick up said M.N.R.
But that morning... nothing was going as planned.
Harry had spent the previous night just as he had spent every other Sunday night for as long as he could remember. First, he went over to the Burrow for Sunday dinner with the Weasleys. Then, he went out for a drink with Ron and Hermione to celebrate the fact that Ron had finally managed to pluck up the courage and propose to Hermione - something that Harry was supremely grateful for. He hadn't stopped at one drink, though. Half-way through the night, his two friends had shared a meaningful look before turning to face him.
"How are things at the Ministry?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. Business as usual, yeah?" He swirled the contents of his tumbler before downing the amber liquid in one swallow only wincing slightly at the burn as it went down.
Across from him, there was a silent argument taking place, filled with more meaningful looks and climaxing with Hermione not too discretely stomping on Ron's foot.
Ron scowled at his fiance but then schooled his expression into what Harry supposed ought to look like concern. Combined with the remnants of the scowl, however, Ron only looked constipated. "So... you really like working with my dad, then?" Ron finally asked.
"Why wouldn't I?" Harry countered. "He's a real riot, your dad is. Loads of fun to work with."
Ever since graduating from Hogwarts, Harry had been working at the Ministry of Magic with Mr. Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. It wasn't exactly the career people, himself included, expected him to pursue, but he liked it well enough. Most of the time, that is.
Ron gave Hermione a look that seemed to say, See, he's happy, but Hermione countered his look with one of her own. It was Hermione who won that particular battle which, really, was to be expected. "Say, Harry," Ron continued in a falsely breezy voice. "Do you ever think about doing something else with your life?"
Harry's gaze flitted over to Hermione before fixing onto Ron shrewdly. "I am doing something with my life. I've got a career, friends..." His voice died out when Hermione made an odd-sort of choking noise. "You alright, Hermione?"
"Yes, perfectly fine," the witch said. "Go on, Ron, you were saying?"
After a moment's hesitation, Ron, who most certainly had not been speaking prior to Hermione's choking fit, continued. "Err...yeah, well, Harry, wouldn't you rather... you know... do something different? Something that would, uh, make sure you reach your potential?"
It had gone downhill from there. Apparently, there had been an entire speech constructed by Hermione about how Harry wasn't even attempting to reach his "full potential as a wizard and an upstanding leader of the wizarding world" and "hadn't he even thought about marrying some witch and settling down?" Neverminding the fact that he wasn't even in any relationship at the moment let alone one serious enough to contemplate marriage! And that was also ignoring the fact that he might not even fall in love with a witch in the end. He was attracted to them, yes, but he was also attracted to wizards, so it was just as likely he would fall in love with a wizard as it was that he would fall in love with a witch.
And potential... Harry had heard quite enough of that word, thank you very much, to last him a lifetime. The wizarding world was always expecting one thing or another out of him. He'd fulfilled the prophecy, hadn't he? He paid his taxes and his bills, didn't he, and did all of the other things that respectable adults did even though he'd only turned twenty-three the previous Thursday. If Hermione... or Mrs. Weasley... or anyone else was unhappy with his choices... well, that was their problem, wasn't it?
It had taken several more drinks that he would usually drink on a Sunday in order to drown out Hermione's lecture. He needn't be blamed, really, for oversleeping because, after all, he hadn't gone to sleep until the early hours of the morning. And it wasn't his fault, in particular, that the wards on his flat were such that he couldn't Apparate within a one mile radius in any direction, so while he had woken up in just enough time to dress and head to the Ministry, he hadn't taken into account traveling... nor had he taken into account the rain or the crowd of Muggles huddled beneath umbrellas littering his path. Still... Harry didn't lose his temper until a passing motor car splashed murky water all over his freshly laundered trousers.
"I wish it would just stop raining!" he muttered angrily as he juggled his umbrella and briefcase in one hand while grabbing his wand with the other.
He hadn't even noticed that the rain had stopped at the precise second of his pronouncement until later that morning.
After that day, however, he began to notice a number of other strange things that were occurring - such as the the headaches that began to plague him. Ever since that morning, he had experienced a number of splitting headaches that had proven to be repellent to all Muggle aids and even most usual magical cures.
These headaches were accompanied by a feeling of restlessness. For the first time since he could remember, he felt unhappy with his current life... trapped almost. There was something he should be doing, he was sure of it... but what?
And the dreams... never since Voldemort had he ever had such dreams, such singularly odd dreams.
It soon became all he could think of! Just who was that yellow-eyed man, and why was Harry dreaming of him?
Still... he hadn't connected all of those other occurrences to the odd weather that London was currently experiencing. The lady on the telly talked about some phenomenon called global warming being the reason why it was so unseasonably warm, but when the temperature was still considerably mild even in the beginning of December... well, there was all sorts of speculation in The Daily Prophet.
He might have been able to ignore it completely if it wasn't for the sheer amount of paperwork generated by it all. Apparently, there was some people who thought that the anomalies in the weather might be caused by some sort of curse. While Harry didn't feel that this had anything to do with his particular department, he was still forced to sit in a number of very boring meetings on how Muggle agriculture was dependent on stability in the weather and the variety of complications that such a curse, if it was indeed a curse, might cause for them.
He might have even believed that it was just a coincidence the weather had abruptly altered to how it ought to have been all along when Harry had wished, upon discovering he was facing a third week of very similar meetings, that everything would just go back to normal already.
That is, of course, if all of these odd happenings hadn't culminated with the spectacular row between him and Hermione.
After graduating from Hogwarts with the highest N.E.W.T. score since Dumbledore himself, the world had literally been Hermione's for the taking. However, she had turned down a number of apprenticeships and positions in order to focus on advocating for the rights of magical creatures, including, but certainly not limited to: house elves, werewolves, centaurs, and, astonishingly enough, giants. It was, by and large, not a paying position. Hermione ran her advocacy program, E.T.F.A.M.I. or the Equitable Treatment for All Magical Individuals, primarily by the donations from the wealthy. Her lack of income was inconsequential as both she and Ron still lived at the Burrow while saving for a home of their own.
It was the week prior to Christmas when things began escalating between the three friends. It was all largely to do with the fact that Harry refused to increase the amount of his donation for the next year. It wasn't that he didn't care about his friend, or magical individuals as Hermione insisted on calling them stating that the term creature was simply savage, he just didn't see the need for an increased donation. He already donated a large amount of money to several different charities, including E.T.F.A.M.I. along with St. Mungos and The Tonks-Lupin Memorial Home for Magical Children, the orphanage that Andromeda Tonks ran for wizarding orphans out of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. His refusal to increase his donation might have been forgiven if not for his refusal to endorse Hermione's Private Members Bill regarding universal freedom for all house elves. That seemed to have been the straw that broke the camels back and resulted in the ensuing row.
All throughout that week there had been another odd shift in the weather. As Harry's anger increased, the weather began to shift. Once again, the temperature increased but this time the warmer temperatures also brought storms, electrical storms in particular. In fact, the atmosphere was so charged the day of their row that Harry's already unbridled hair was nearly standing on end.
The row was the sort of row that all friends have at least once in their friendship. It might have been about the donation and Harry's political support in the beginning but before he knew it, the three friends were fighting about things that had happened years ago.
When Ron brought up Harry and Ginny's breakup, which was always a particularly sore topic for Harry who had loved Ginny immensely though he had found it difficult to resolve that feeling with his newly awakened attraction to men which was the main reason they broke up in the first place, Harry lost it. His bellows were drowned out by the massive thunder that echoed through his small flat. The fight was forgotten quickly when the flash of lightening following the thunder had landed across the courtyard from Harry's flat resulting in the destruction of an entire row of flats.
That Harry couldn't ignore.