Supernatural War: Game Plan
Author: Azure the Dragonlady
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Supernatural
Summary: Harry Potter / Supernatural Crossover. First in the Supernatural War Series.After defeating Voldemort at 17, Harry Potter leaves the Wizarding World, trying to live a normal life under the name of Harry Evans. However, it soon becomes apparent that there are other things out there and people in need of saving. Harry becomes a Hunter, facing a whole new war, on a much larger and deadlier scale. Along the way Harry discovers that something else may have also been connected to Voldemort's rise to power and that he is more involved in it, than he ever imagined possible.
Setting: Harry Potter – Post-Series. AU of Deathly Hollows (some events/info may have changed or have not happened at all). Supernatural – takes place during Season 2, but may have information pertaining to ALL seasons.
Author's Note: Welcome to the rewrite of Harry Potter and the Supernatural War. I have decided to retitle it and split it into at least three separate parts; Game Plan, Commencement and Apocalypse. The previously written chapters of Harry Potter and the Supernatural War will have new and extended scenes. I hope that you will enjoy this new version and thank-you for being patient while I've been working on the outline and the rewrite. A big thanks goes to my beta, The Real Hagrid 13, for helping me work out the outline and major plot points for this story.

Chapter 1: The Second War Ends

Harry Potter collapsed onto his knees, exhaustion and pain emitting from every fibre of his being. He panted, gasping for air as he glanced at the remains of Voldemort in front of him. The recently deceased Dark Lord's ashes were already being picked up by the slight breeze, which had swept over the battlefield, like dust in the wind. Taking his eyes from his foe, he gazed upon the rest of the battlefield.

It was a bloody mess. Bodies of both allies and enemies alike lay scattered in a bloody heap, their wands clutched tight in their stained hands, or else landed unforgiving on the ground.

The grief at such death was overwhelming. More blood then he had ever seen in his life stained the once lush green lawn outside the entrance doors to Hogwarts. He wondered briefly if it would ever come off. He could see the many injuries that the blood had come from, on both his allies and enemies.

So much destruction…

So much death…

Harry coughed violently, blood escaping his lips as he did so. He struggled to get up, to check for survivors, to check on his friends – the only family he had left. He only managed to rise half way before he fell back to the ground with a soft grunt. Blood dripped near his eyes and he shakily reached a hand to his scar. Surprisingly there was no pain emitting from the famous scar. It felt strange… almost. He had been coping with the near constant pain for several months as he gained more knowledge to face his prophesised destiny.

Footsteps approached cautiously and Harry opened his eyes, which he didn't know he closed. The fuzzy form of Professor McGonagall came into view and his eyes slowly focused, due to his exhaustion.

"'fessor," Harry mumbled, his eyes starting to close again of their own accord. He struggled to get them opened again.

"Yes, Harry," McGonagall answered gently. "Come on, we'll get you to the Hospital Wing."

His Transfiguration professor helped him to his feet with surprising strength. Harry looked up at Hogwarts – the one place he could call home. Though that still remained to be seen. Too much had happened.

It was fitting, perhaps, that the Final Battle between Voldemort and him had taken place on the grounds of the castle that they'd both once called home.

Harry hesitated, wanting his enemy's death to be confirmed. "'fessor… Voldemort… is he?"

McGonagall gave him a small smile that he had hardly seen on her face. "Dead, nothing left but ash, from the looks of things. You did it, Harry."

"Good," Harry muttered. "And 'mione, Ron?"

McGonagall's face fell. She hesitated, looking to the left. Her eyes focused on a group of bodies lying in the distance. Harry followed her gaze with a huge lump in his throat. A feeling of uneasiness grew within him, but had to see what she was looking at. He soon came across the exact same bodies that McGonagall saw.

There were two bodies collapsed in each other's arms. One was male with familiar red hair and the other was had a bushy brown hair. They were the bodies of his friends. They were dead.

Harry made a low keening sound, overwhelmed by the sudden revelation of his friends deaths. They were his family – they meant everything to him. Everything.

He felt sick. He felt…

Darkness appeared as spots in his vision, before he pitched forward and the darkness spread. He had a floating sensation before he passed into unconsciousness.

Harry's eyes fluttered open for a moment before they closed. He struggled to consciousness just as he'd struggled to his feet after defeating Voldemort. The slight warmth of the midday sun fell upon the right side of his body. It was oddly pleasant and peaceful.

At least for that moment.

It was warm and fuzzy, Harry decided. He felt strangely content and even, dare he say it, safe. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. Suddenly, though, everything that had happened came flooding back to him, sweeping like a gigantic tidal wave of thoughts.

Horcruxes …The Final Battle…the bodies laden on the bloody ground, dead … Voldemort…'Only one of us will leave this battlefield alive, Voldemort, and it won't be me!'…

Voldemort! Harry startled awake, oblivious to his own pain and still healing injuries for a few seconds, until they made themselves known.

"Ugh," he groaned, feeling now the true extent of his injuries. It was better then he'd been straight after the fight - an improvement at least.

"Ah. You're finally awake Mr. Potter," an unmistakably familiar voice answered. It sounded like…

"Ma-Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Who'd you expect? I've been patching you up ever since you came to Hogwarts. Although this time was the worst, I must say. It was touch and go there for awhile, before you were stabilised."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, although it sounded like a groan. "Yeah…"

His eyes settled on Madam Pomfrey, determined to read her reaction to his next question.

"Wha' happened? I-I was facing Voldemort," Harry whispered, the events of the Final Battle continuing to flash before his eyes. "I finally did it, didn't I? Killed him? He's dead, gone?"

"Yes, it would seem so. There was nothing left of him but ash."

Harry managed a half smile, a smile he hadn't given in a long time. Then, he remembered what he had discovered shortly after Voldemort death. The smile was replaced by a deep frown. "Ron? H-Hermione? I saw them, after the battle. They were- are they?" Harry was unable to finish the sentence for fear that it would make it seem true.

Madam Pomfrey sighed hesitantly. "Harry," she replied softly. "They have passed away."

Harry closed his eyes as he took in what he knew was true, however much he didn't want it to be. His family was gone. He choked a sob. "Do-Do you know how?"

"Mr. Weasley shielded Miss Granger from the initial attack, but she too eventually succumbed to a dark curse," she answered. Harry squeezed his eyes firmly shut at her answer. He flinched as he felt hands reach near him.

"Drink this," Madam Pomfrey ordered gently. She gently lowered a potion goblet to Harry's lips so he could take a sip. Grimacing a little at the taste, Harry gave into the potion's effects and his world went dark, his mind and body finally getting a long awaited rest.

During the next few days, Harry was in and out of unconsciousness, his body getting much needed rest and recovery, with the help of several potions.

The next time Harry woke for more than a few mometns it was dark. He was drawn to movement in front of him. It was Madam Pomfrey. Harry hadn't needed his glasses since a few months into the search for the Horcruxes, when Hermione insisted he get them fixed, with an advanced spell, as his glasses were a liability. Harry had grudgingly done so, but appreciated that Hermione was indeed right; and he was thankful for it in the end.

"Here take this, Mr. Potter. This is your last one, and then you can recover as you normally would," Madam Pomfrey ordered.

"So, after this, I can escape this place?" Harry was anxious to leave. This place had so many memories, both good and bad, and he just wanted to not deal with them. At least for the time being and while they were still so fresh – and painful.

"No, I'm afraid not Mr. Potter. You still need your rest. It was quite a feat you pulled."

In the next few days, when Harry was allowed to sleep without the aid of a potion, he suffered terrible nightmares; nightmares about his friends' deaths. Ron, Hermione …Ginny… Harry choked. Thinking about those things hurt; their deaths still too fresh on his mind; painful.

He and plenty of time to reflect during his recovery and think about the situation he was in. The press and public alike would hound him. He cringed at the thought; he didn't like all the attention. He wanted to go somewhere quiet, away, to be by himself. He needed out of the wizarding world. Now. He only needed to persuade Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall to his view. He might need her help in the future.

'Trouble usually finds me,' Harry mused. He snorted at the thought.

Madam Pomfrey decided to walk in at that moment. 'Time to see if she'll let me outta here,' Harry thought to himself.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Potter" she asked.

"I'm fine now, Madam, thank you," Harry replied.

"Well, then, everything seems to be in order. You are recovering well. You had a great deal of injuries when Minerva came in with you. I was quite worried that they were far beyond my abilities to heal. A great deal of Dark Magic was cast on you, Harry. And you were suffering from the worst exhaustion I've seen in all my years as a nurse. Luckily, you were able to heal some of the worst. Not to mention that you were in a magical coma due to exhaustion."

"Oh," Harry grimaced. He remembered clearly how those particular injuries were received. "I'm very grateful to you and all you have done, Madam Pomfrey. Thank you."

"Your welcome, Mr. Potter," she replied with a crinkled smile. "Well, you have just about healed, but I'd like you to-"

"That's great," Harry interrupted, knowing too well what she was about to say and he didn't want to be in the Hospital Wing any longer then absolutely necessary. "Do you think I could leave now, then?"

"I'd like you to stay a few days, to ensure that everything has healed properly," she said determinedly. "I would hate to see you back in my hospital wing so soon after this visit."

"I've appreciated all you've done for me, I really do, but I'd like to leave while everyone still thinks I'm recovering. It'll be a lot easier that way. Besides, you've said I've mostly recovered. I'll be taking it easy for a long time. I have no intentions to get into another fight," Harry promised.

"I guess you could be up and about," she relented after a few moments, clearly reluctant to offer it, but knowing that if Harry really wanted to leave he would do so anyway. "As long as you take it easy."

At that moment, the double doors of the Hospital Wing opened and a perturbed looking Professor McGonagall walked in. Harry and Madam Pomfrey immediately turned towards her. As the door closed behind her, she raised her wand and flicked it, silently locking the door.

McGonagall looked surprised to see Harry awake and recuperating. She gave him a smile. "I'm glad to see that you are well," she said.

Harry nodded. "Me too. I'm recovering… slowly. Madam Pomfrey has agreed to let me go, with a promise that I take it easy."


"Are there a lot of reporters out there?" Harry asked with a grimace. There were bound to be a lot. He'd have to go through the secret passages to get out of Hogwarts in order to apparate.

McGonagall echoed his grimace. As the new headmistress of Hogwarts, she'd had to deal with the reporter problem. Luckily, school had ended, so it didn't interfere with the students. "Camped outside, I've had to call Aurors in multiple times to escort them off the grounds. They all want to see The-Man-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord."

Harry groaned. "That's what they're calling me now?"

"It is a little over-the-top," the headmistress admitted. "They don't know the true extent of your injuries, so they're looking for headlines. They aren't allowed into the castle, though not for a lack of trying."

"Thanks," Harry said, relieved that he'd not had to deal with any press.

"You've had a number of Owls, Harry," Professor McGonagall said. "We've had them forwarded to an unused room here while you were… unconscious. Is there anything you'd like me to do with them?"

Harry sighed. He didn't want to read letters congratulating him. All he could think about was the deaths, the pain Ron and Hermione must have been in. And the fact that he couldn't save them. They were the last of his family, and he couldn't save them. So, no, he couldn't deal with letters - not that he even wanted to in the first place.

"Leave them," he answered. "I'm going to leave the Wizarding World, at least for awhile. I can't deal with the memories at the moment."

"Harry, give it time…" McGonagall tried to protest, though it was futile. Harry had made up his mind already.

Harry shook his head. "No, sorry. I need to leave."

McGonagall and Pomfrey glanced at each other.

There was a moment silence.

"Where are you going to go?" McGonagall asked, relenting to Harry's decision.

"Anywhere, everywhere, I don't really know. All I know is that I need to get away from everything here. Away from the wizarding world," Harry answered. "I can't stay here, not after everything that has happened. Not after Ron and Hermione… and Ginny's deaths."

"Why would you think that? Everyone would love to have you here," Madam Pomfrey chimed into the conversation.

"That's just it; I don't want press and everyone hounding me day in and day out. I can't live like that. I just…" Harry swallowed. He couldn't stay here, not after his friends died here. He'd be reminded of their deaths every minute of every day.

Both McGonagall and Pomfrey must have thought that he needed to talk though, because what the headmistress said next forced him to voice what he had been thinking these last few days. "What is it, Harry. What are you thinking?"

Harry swallowed, gathering his thoughts together before he answered.

"Voldemort thought that my friends' and my classmates' deaths would break me. Leave me vulnerable. But they didn't, instead, I used that pain, that anger I felt and turned it into something useful – something more practical – something that I could use to defeat him. It was the strength that I needed to finally defeat him. I turned the tables around, even though the odds were against me, I won. I won but I also lost. I lost my family, my friends. Everyone. They're all gone – killed, because of him. I may have won the war, but I lost everything dear to me… everything that ever mattered to me…" Harry trailed off, voice trembling with raw emotion as he expressed how he felt. His fists were clenched around the white hospital blankets. He looked up and saw their stunned expressions.

They were silent, letting him continue, obviously knowing that Harry needed this opportunity to express his thoughts and his emotions. They weren't going to begrudge him that. Relieved, he continued,

"So you see why I can't stay here…why I refuse to. I can't…the memories…it's too painful. I need to get away, you know? Rethink my life, the purpose in my life, now that Voldemort dead and gone forever - never coming back. I just want to have a simple, quiet and normal (or something resembling that anyway) life. As much of it as I can get, at least. No more fighting, battles or anything of the likes. Just simple, quiet … peaceful. I've lost so much, you know? So much. It's painful and it won't go away. Perhaps it will never go away. I just need a life to myself. To be just Harry. Not the Boy-Who-Lived or whatever they're calling me now. Just Harry. Don't I deserve that, after everything I've done and everything I've given up?"

"If anyone deserved that, Harry, it would be you. And, you definitely deserve a peaceful life now," Professor McGonagall told him softly.

"Quite right, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey agreed.

"Just promise me that you will let me know if you need anything at all," McGonagall added authoritatively, peering down at him.

Harry nodded quickly. He was glad that they weren't fighting him on this. "Thank you…very much. I'm sorry about all that…"

"That's quite alright. You looked like you needed it. Do you have a plan, where you want to go?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Yes, actually, I've been thinking these past few days," Harry paused, thinking it over as he continued, "I've been thinking that even if I were to, er, disappear from here, from the wizarding world - the press, everyone would still know, still try to find me, what with me being a saviour and all. So I've thought about it and I've decided that I think it would be best, for everyone, for me, if they believed that I'd … died, even the Order members."

"Harry," McGonagall interrupted, in disbelief.

"Please. I need this. I know you don't agree with it, but I believe that it is the best course of action. I don't want to be harassed by the press and the public for the rest of my life."

It was Harry's tone that finally persuaded her. It was pleading, he was practically screaming out that it was his choice and he need to do this. So with a small amount of reluctance, McGonagall consented, "Very well then, Harry."

"Thank you. Thank you both," Harry said sincerely. "I appreciate this."

After being declared fit enough to be walking around the next day after his startling revelation to McGonagall and Pomfrey, Harry was implementing his plan and walking towards Gringotts.

Diagon Alley, it seemed, had been rebuilt somewhat since the war. The buildings and shops that were destroyed were now up and running again. It wasn't that busy now, so there wouldn't be any chance that he'd be recognised.

The Goblins were resilient and resourceful and it had allowed them to survive the war. They liked to stay out of the affairs of the Ministry, and they kept quiet about the interactions and transactions with clients. It was exactly what Harry needed.

Last night he had come to the decision to go to America. That way he didn't need to alter his appearance, as he would have the least chance at getting recognised.

Gringotts was empty when Harry arrived, which was even better. He walked up to a counter where a free Goblin sat towards the end of the hall.

"Hello," Harry greeted warmly. The goblin looked up.

"May I help you?" The goblin grumbled, inspecting Harry closely. The goblin's eyes widened slightly when he recognised exactly who stood before him.

"Yes, I need to take care of some things, but not out here. Is there a private room we could go to?" Harry said, glancing towards the entrance as another customer walked in.

"Yes, of course. Follow me sir," with that the goblin stood up and Harry was led towards one of the many doors leading off the hall. The goblin opened the door and Harry saw that there was a passageway on the other side, with a few doors spaced unevenly on either side. The room Harry was led into was a small, yet spacious baby blue room with a table in the centre. The goblin sat at the far end of the table.

When Harry sat down the goblin spoke. "What may I help you with Mr. Potter?"

Harry told the goblin of his plans to leave the Wizarding World, go to America and live under a different name. The goblin nodded and grunted. "It is possible to get a new ID in the muggle world from here, if you wish to do so."

Harry nodded. "Yes, please."

"I will draw something up, under what name would you like to live?"

Harry thought for a moment, before finally coming to a decision. "Uh- Harry Evans. Evans after my mother."

"That is acceptable. Good choice, sir."

"If I am officially declared dead, is there a way for the ministry to gain control over my vaults?"

"No," the goblin snorted. "Gringotts is independent of the ministry."

"That's good. Is it possible to transfer some money from my vaults to a muggle bank?"

"Yes, sir. How much would you be looking at?"

"If I were to say, about a quarter of the money I have, how much would that make out to, in American dollars?"

The goblin thought for a moment. "Half a million."

"Whoa, that's a lot."

"You come from a wealthy family, Mr. Potter," the goblin said.

"Yeah, I guess so. So if I do, for any reason, need to transfer more in…"

"Owl or contact us, we will send a verification letter, which you will need to place a drop of blood on, then you just write the amount and we will see that it gets transferred," the goblin answered, apparently knowing where Harry was heading. The goblin shuffled the papers in front of him around. "Here are your identification papers with you new name. Everything else is in order."

"Thank-you." Harry stood up, taking the papers and nodding to the goblin as he left.

Harry opted not to go straight to America. He took the opportunity to travel around the world a little, to get his thoughts in order before he settled down. It turned out to be a good decision, as Harry was able to unwind from the harsh war and what it had involved, and was on his way in coming to terms with the deaths of his adopted family.

Harry travelled through a lot of the major countries throughout the world, taking in the beauty of it all after the hardship he'd had to face.

He walked through the jungles of Asia. The huge trees and vines and the cascading light that managed to touch the ground through the canopy was surreal.

He had then found himself sitting on a closed beach of Australia, the water gently lapping at his feet. Harry couldn't help but picture Ginny sitting beside him, with Ron and Hermione in each other arms slightly ahead of them. He sighed, reluctantly willing away his dreams – for that is all they were and all they were going to be. He stood up, eyes focused on the distant horizon, before stepping back and turning away – away from his impossible dreams.

After Australia, he travelled to Japan, taking in the wondrous technology that the muggles had developed and snorting at the thought that the Wizarding World were centuries behind them.

Even after seeing the world and recovering slowly from the war it was still perhaps inevitable that he suffered from violent nightmares. The victims of the war weighed heavily on his mind. The guilt was almost overwhelming.

When he reached Canada, his second-to-last destination, he meet up with some American's on a holiday, who had recommended San Francisco as a place to settle down. Intrigued by the different climate to England, he had eventually decided to travel to the city and check it out to see if he'd like it for the long term.

San Francisco was a magnificent place and the culture was amazing. With a lot of people moving about the place and driving in and out of the city, it was a good place as any for a Wizard to hide. And it was extremely close to the water, which would be an interesting experience for Harry. The only time he'd been this close to the ocean was to find Voldemort's Horcrux with Dumbledore right before the headmaster died.

All in all, San Francisco was the perfect place to settle down, fit in and live a simple and peaceful life.

So, six months after he'd left the Wizarding World, found Harry Evans washing the dishes in his new house. Since finishing his travels Harry had gathered his few belongings, mainly his wand, some money, Marauders' Map, invisibility cloak and his godfather's motorbike, which had been left to him in Sirius' will and moved to a nice perfect spot on the outskirts of San Francisco. A great place to stay and live the simple, quiet, normal life he'd been hoping to live. Harry replaced the tea towel on its hanger as he went about his new life.

Harry had gotten a relatively small house, but it had everything he needed; a kitchen, two small bedrooms (one master and one spare although he didn't suspect that he would have any visitors, let alone ones that actually slept over) and a bathroom, laundry and lounge room. It was everything he needed in this new life and more.

Harry stepped out on his front steps, looking over at his new neighbourhood and taking in the faces of his new neighbours. They wouldn't know his real name, they wouldn't know he'd just come from a war and that he'd lost everything in.

It would be a fresh start. A new life.

He observed silently as his new next door neighbours pulled up into their driveway, which was closest to his house. The husband opened the door and stepped out. Half a second later, his wife stepped out of the passenger's side and went to the back door and opened it for their child.

As if feeling his eyes on them, the husband suddenly looked straight at him. The husband looked confused for a second, before he smiled. "Welcome to the neighbourhood!" he called out to Harry with a wave.

Harry gave a small smile and waved back.

A new life indeed.

Thanks for reading the first chapter of the rewrite of Harry Potter and the Supernatural War.

Feedback is appreciated.

-Azure the Dragonlady-