Title: Dean Winchester and the Order of the Trickster
Author: Aunt Mo
Rating: PG-13, for language
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: Spoilers through Channing Channels for SPN, through Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for Harry Potter
Characters: Dean, Sam, Gabriel, Dumbledore, Snape, others

Word Count: 2074

Disclaimer: I do not own neither Supernatural nor Harry Potter or any of their characters.

Summary: For Tari Roo's prompt on the ficlet meme fill. She wanted: During season 5 in the TV land episode Dean and Sam find themselves in one of the Harry Potter films and surprisingly Dean knows a lot about one Harry Potter.

"Don't you ever, ever presume to know what I am," growled the Trickster. "Now listen very closely. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you."

"And if we don't?" asked Sam

"Then you'll stay here in TV Land, he answered with a grin. "Forever. Three hundred channels and, uh, nothing's on."

And with a snap of the Trickster's fingers, the brightly colored sitcom world disappeared.

Dean Winchester found himself in a musty, narrow hallway which contained so little light that after his experience in the psychedelic sitcom world, he could barley see his own hand in front of his face. He did however manage to bump into Sam as he heard his brother exclaim, "Hey, watch it! I'm right in front of you...and Dude, is that a stick in your hand?"

As his eyes began to adjust to the dimmer light, Dean looked down and realized he was gripping some sort of a stick. He was beginning to wonder just where the Trickster had sent them this time when he heard Sam crash in to something. Looking up, it appeared as though his brother grabbed onto heavy black curtains in an attempt to gain his balance before tumbling to the floor and mumbling, "What the-? Ew...a hollowed out animal leg with umbrellas stuffed in it? Where did that psycho send us now, The Addams Family?"

"Gee Sammy, do you think you can keep yourself from bringing the whole place down while we figure out where we are?" Dean teased as he helped his brother up. But any retort by Sam was cut off by an earsplitting, bloodcurdling shriek that was so loud both of them immediately had to clap their hands over their ears.

Dean looked up to see that the curtain Sam had grabbed onto had open up to reveal a portrait of an old woman. It was the woman who was screaming, her skin yellowed with age as she yelled, "Filth! Scum! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks leave this place! How dare you defile the house of my fathers!"

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean muttered as he backed away from the woman pulling Sam with him. "HBO would have to be showing this movie right now."

"Is the portrait talking to us? And did she say freaks? How could she-" Sam stammered out but he was cut off as the hallway filled with several men, who were all carrying sticks about the same size as the one Dean held in his right hand. "Um Dean, it looks like we got company."

Two of the men, both with lighter hair and threadbare clothes quickly went to work trying to cover the portrait, which did little but muffle the screams of the woman. The other three surrounded Sam and Dean, pointing their sticks at them as if they were brandishing swords.

"You must be either two of thickest gits ever to become Death Eaters," declared a rather gaunt man with dark hair that reached his shoulders, "or you are the American Aurors Dumbledore said would be joining us this evening."

"Aurors…American Aurors," Dean nodded, dumbstruck at the men standing before him. As a slightly goof grin spread across his face, he thought that this was nearly as good as being on Dr. Sexy, M.D.

"Really?" asked another man, greasy hair falling down into his eyes. "And we are to believe you why? We are in the middle of a war where our enemy can appear to be anyone he wants to be. So how do we know you are the men Dumbledore sent to meet us?"

"Given the way my Thursday is going, I could ask the same thing of you Snivellus," Dean retorted as the group heard shouting come from the one of the rooms on the upper levels of the home. "But I'll play along. That shouting going on upstairs is probably coming from the kid you and Dumbledore had to rescue from fake Moody after he barely escaped with his neck intact once Moldy Shorts used him to crawl back from the pit right after he won what passes for the wizard Olympics over here. That proof enough for you?"

The man with dark hair barked with laughter as he gripped Dean's hand and shook it heartily. "You had me at Snivellus. Hardly anyone outside the Order knows my term of enmity for the greasy git. Follow us; we were just getting the meeting started when you disturbed the heartless wench that gave birth to me."

As the group turned in the hallway and moved toward the kitchen, Sam grabbed Dean by arm and hissed in his ear, "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

"What are you talking about Sammy?" Dean asked as he winked at his brother. "I've watched some of the movies because I thought it might be good for research, you know, since they're full of wizards, dragons and goblins. That kind of information could come in handy one day."

"I've seen what you call research Dean," Sam muttered shaking his head. "I've actually read the books, so I know that Gary Oldman over there has posters in his bedroom that look like your version of research."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean sputtered indignantly. There was no way he was going to admit to Sam that he picked up one of the books one night when they were staying in a motel where the television was broken and it seemed to be the least boring book among the collection that Sam had with him at the time. He was so taken by it that he found a way to read the whole series whenever Sammy wasn't looking so the kid wouldn't tease him about it. It wasn't any more difficult to hide Prisoner of Azkaban from Sam than hiding comics in his history book in the eighth grade from Mr. Weaver. In fact, it was probably easier. Sam simply thought he was sneaking around, finding a way to meet up with a chick from a bar.

"You shut, up, jerk," Sam shot back. "And how is that you ended up here with a wand and I didn't?"

"Do I need to remind you exactly how it was that we got here in the first place? Hel-lo Trickster," Dean answered imitating the thorn in their side that been tossing them around TV land for who knows how long. "Maybe our friendly neighborhood pagan wanted them to think you were a squib."

Sam opened his mouth to answer but before he could they heard someone clear their throat loudly. They both lifted their heads to see Mad-Eye Moody staring them down at the end of the hall.

"Are you two going to stand there holding hands all day or are you going to join us?" the wizard asked gruffly. "Time's a wasting!"

All the initial excitement Dean had at being at Grimmauld Place was drained away at having to listen to Severus Snape drone on about the fact that Voldemort was up to absolutely nothing that he could share with the group. If the man was this enthralling in potions class, it was a wonder Harry hadn't died out of sheer boredom before now. He didn't think he was alone in his assessment. Arthur Weasley looked like he was about to fall asleep, while Tonks was keeping his brother entertained by constantly changing her hair color and the shape of her nose.

His only hope for surviving this meeting was the fact the he was pretty sure that Molly Weasley had baked some sort of pie. He could survive just about anything for the promise of pie. If he tilted his chair back and reached behind Sam he just might be able to-

"Get your hands away from that pie, mister," Molly hissed as she smacked Dean on the back of the head causing his chair to pitch forward and land on all four legs with a thud. "There'll be time enough for that later."

"Yes ma'am," Dean winced as he rubbed the back of his head. All eyes turned toward him so he decided to dive into the fray. "Well, if Mr. "I-Have-Nothing-To-Say" is done trying to knock us out without the benefit of a Sleeping Draught, can we wrap this up so the kid can come downstairs and he can get some answers as to what's been happening this summer. You do realize that no one has told him anything since he had to watch Sparkles Diggory die?"

Snape raised an eyebrow as he looked over at the brothers with disdain. "Leave it to the Americans to rush in thinking they have all the answers, like a couple of heroes."

"Yippee-ki-yay," Dean answered with swagger. "As if you haven't heard that before. Look, all I'm saying is that Sammy and I know a thing or two about what's it's like to be in that kid's shoes and I think it can't hurt for him to have some information."

"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Winchester, that your parents were killed by an evil, power-obsessed monster and you and your brother are destined to save the world from all that is unholy?" asked the Potions Master with an air of disbelief.

"Gee, you're not as dumb as you look, you know that Snivellus?" Dean said with a smirk as Sirius chuckled beside him.

"How long are you blokes staying again?" Sirius asked as he watched Snape fume at the end of the table. "I think I could get used to having the likes of you around here."

"Not exactly sure," Sam offered glancing around the room. "I wouldn't get too used to having us around though. We never stay in one place very long."

"Of course not. Why would you stay and see anything through?" Snape accused. "Just rush in, offer you two cents worth on how we should do things, then leave before the 'going gets tough' as they say in your country. How very typical."

"This from a man who would rather spend his life as a double agent and play both sides rather than have the courage to let the world know where you really stand. You remind of someone else I have had my fill of today," Dean snorted. "Speaking of which, that douche-bag is probably somewhere eating chocolate frogs and getting his jollies watching us stumble though this latest maze."

"Not quite chocolate frogs, Dean-o," the Trickster muttered as he turned the switch off on the monitor and handed some candies to his viewing companion. "But I am keeping an eye on you."

"What are these Muggle candies called again?" the old wizard asked. "They are quite tasty."

"Skittles," he answered. "Much better than lemon drops if you ask me. "Well, it has been nice catching up with you Al, but I suppose it is time for me to take the muttonheads and hit the road. Wouldn't want them to spoil the ending for you now, would I? I wouldn't put it past Dean-o there to spill the beans and tell the kid all about the prophecy."

"No, you are correct, as usual. No one here needs to know anything before it is time," Dumbledore conceded. "I suppose that means you will also be taking your viewing device with you as well. Something like that would come in handy during the war."

"What? The Tantalus Field?" Gabriel asked after tossing back a few more Skittles. "More than you know, kiddo. That thing makes legilimency look like knowing spoilers for Days of Our Lives. Even the Weasel King could figure what is going to happen on that show. No, that puppy needs to go back to its own reality. It's too dangerous here. You definitely wouldn't want Moldy Shorts getting a hold of it. He would ditch your bouncy ball of foreboding and just start picking off all of his enemies beginning with you and Boy Wonder."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. He knew the other man was correct; something that powerful was too much of a temptation, even for him.

"Hey, don't get too down on yourself," the Trickster said with a grin. "And when things get tough this year, remember who taught how to do things with flair."

That caused the wizard to chuckle before a curious look expression crossed his features. "Who exactly is the Weasel King?"