HP/No Country... crossover
Rather to my own surprise, I wrote a brief Harry Potter/No Country for Old Men fic out of the blue last night; no Deathly Hallows spoilers. (In fact, this is not Deathly Hallows compliant in any way.) Enjoy.
The man stood out like a beacon in the dimly lit Soho bar, with his absurd puffed jacket, with the hood pulled over his face. Chigurh chewed another peanut, then stood up, making sure to smile reassuringly. The man caught sight of him, and quickly walked over; although his face was gaunt, with haunted eyes, he nonetheless had a haughty look.
"You're Chigurh?" the other man said, in his English accent. "I was told..."
"Have a seat," Chigurh said politely; his own faint accent was more difficult to place.
The other man scowled, clearly not used to interruption. "I need to..."
"I understand. Have a seat; take your coat off."
The other man scowled, and sat. He took his coat off; lank blond hair spilled down his chest. "Now," he said, "I need..."
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Firewhiskey."
Chigurh looked amused. "I don't believe they serve that here. Scotch?"
The other man's lips pressed together. "Very well. Now, we..."
"Do you know what's interesting?" Chigurh asked, then paused to speak to the barmaid.
"We don't have time for this," the other man said. "I was told..."
"I've been told many things," Chigurh said. "It doesn't mean they're true. You can relax, by the way; you're as safe here as anywhere else."
The other man's eyes narrowed; he paused, as the barmaid put drinks on the table. "Safe from whom?"
"Safe," Chigurh repeated, before popping another peanut from the bowl into his mouth. He sat back, chewing leisurely.
"We don't have the time for this," the other man said. "I need..."
"You said that already." Chigurh said. "You didn't answer my question, though."
The man scowled. "What question?"
"I asked, 'Do you know what's interesting?' Do you?"
The man hesitated. "What?"
"This." Chigurh reached into his pocket, and pulled out a large gold coin. "This is very interesting."
The other man eyed it warily. "What about it...?"
"I've seen gold before," Chigurh said, rolling it between his fingers, "but never this gold. Where did you get it?"
"Does it matter?" the other man replied. "I was told that you could..."
"Yes, yes; you were told," Chigurh replied patiently. "Where did you get it?"
"From my family vault," the other man replied warily.
"Your family vault," Chigurh replied, still rolling the coin. "And where is that?"
"In London," the other man finally said. "Look, it's real gold..."
"I can see that," Chigurh said. "In the movies, they usually bite gold coins, to see if they're real. I've never bitten a gold coin- have you?"
"No." Impatient, but wary.
"I would assume that it's because real gold is soft, like lead- that it would leave teeth marks. Does that seem like a valid assumption?"
"I don't..."
"I'm not asking if it is valid," Chigurh said; this was the best part of the game. "I asked if it seems valid."
A pause. "I suppose."
Chigurh nodded, then put the coin in his mouth, and bit. "There," he said, holding out the coin, which now bore faint teeth marks. "Now we know that we're being honest with each other."
"If you say so," the other man replied.
"I do." Hand into the bowl; peanuts popped into the mouth. Leisurely chewing. "Now," Chigurh continued, "now that we know that we're being honest with each other- from which prison have you escaped?"
The man looked startled, then tried to hide it. "What makes you think..."
"I know the gaze of a hunted man," Chigurh said. A pause.
The other man looked around, then leaned forward, and finally whispered, "Azkaban."
"Azkaban," Chigurh repeated, chewing. "And that is...?"
"A prison," the other man said. "A... special prison."
"A special prison," Chigurh said.
"Yes," the other man finally replied. "For... for wizards."
Chigurh stopped chewing; finally swallowed. "Wizards."
"Yes."
"And you are a wizard?"
A haughty look. "Yes."
"I see." A pause. "Are you one of the sort of wizard who follow this man Voldemort?"
A scowl. "Do not use his name so lightly, Muggle."
Chigurh reached for the peanuts. "My apologies. Are you one of his- what is it, Death Eaters?"
A pause. "I was."
Chigurh enjoyed the look of shame for a moment. "But no longer?"
"I failed him," the other man said. "I failed him, and was placed in Azkaban. Now, I must regain his good graces."
"I see. And that is why you require my assistance?"
"Yes," the other man said. Chigurh paused; the other man paused. "I..." the other man finally said, "I need you to find someone."
"Someone," Chigurh repeated.
"A boy," the other man said. "His name is... Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter." Chigurh looked thoughtful. "I have heard that name, since I've been in England. He seems quite famous among... wizards."
A sneer. "An undeserved notoriety, nothing more."
Chigurh tested his smile again. "Of course."
The other man leaned forward; he seemed to have accepted Chigurh as a confidant. "I need to regain my Lord's good graces," he whispered. "With the death of the boy Harry Potter, I can..."
Chigurh nodded. "So, you do not merely wish for me to find the boy," he said. "You want me to kill him."
"He has shamed the Malfoy name, and he shall pay," the other man said. "I have sworn a blood oath."
Chigurh nodded. "I respect the power of an oath," he said, and chewed, and waited, amused.
"Then, you'll do it?" the other man said, dropping any reserve. "I have more gold..."
"I'll do it," Chigurh said, stretching, then getting to his feet. An old injury in his arm throbbed for a moment, then eased. "This story intrigues me."
"Come outside for your gold," the other man said, pulling on his coat. "Curse this stupid Muggle coat..."
"It's all right- you won't have to wear it for long," said Chigurh, twisting the valve on top of the tank he carried as he followed the other man outside; there was a hissing sound. "In fact, although I didn't mention it, I'm a wizard of sorts myself."
The man stood out like a beacon in the dimly lit Soho bar, with his absurd puffed jacket, with the hood pulled over his face. Chigurh chewed another peanut, then stood up, making sure to smile reassuringly. The man caught sight of him, and quickly walked over; although his face was gaunt, with haunted eyes, he nonetheless had a haughty look.
"You're Chigurh?" the other man said, in his English accent. "I was told..."
"Have a seat," Chigurh said politely; his own faint accent was more difficult to place.
The other man scowled, clearly not used to interruption. "I need to..."
"I understand. Have a seat; take your coat off."
The other man scowled, and sat. He took his coat off; lank blond hair spilled down his chest. "Now," he said, "I need..."
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Firewhiskey."
Chigurh looked amused. "I don't believe they serve that here. Scotch?"
The other man's lips pressed together. "Very well. Now, we..."
"Do you know what's interesting?" Chigurh asked, then paused to speak to the barmaid.
"We don't have time for this," the other man said. "I was told..."
"I've been told many things," Chigurh said. "It doesn't mean they're true. You can relax, by the way; you're as safe here as anywhere else."
The other man's eyes narrowed; he paused, as the barmaid put drinks on the table. "Safe from whom?"
"Safe," Chigurh repeated, before popping another peanut from the bowl into his mouth. He sat back, chewing leisurely.
"We don't have the time for this," the other man said. "I need..."
"You said that already." Chigurh said. "You didn't answer my question, though."
The man scowled. "What question?"
"I asked, 'Do you know what's interesting?' Do you?"
The man hesitated. "What?"
"This." Chigurh reached into his pocket, and pulled out a large gold coin. "This is very interesting."
The other man eyed it warily. "What about it...?"
"I've seen gold before," Chigurh said, rolling it between his fingers, "but never this gold. Where did you get it?"
"Does it matter?" the other man replied. "I was told that you could..."
"Yes, yes; you were told," Chigurh replied patiently. "Where did you get it?"
"From my family vault," the other man replied warily.
"Your family vault," Chigurh replied, still rolling the coin. "And where is that?"
"In London," the other man finally said. "Look, it's real gold..."
"I can see that," Chigurh said. "In the movies, they usually bite gold coins, to see if they're real. I've never bitten a gold coin- have you?"
"No." Impatient, but wary.
"I would assume that it's because real gold is soft, like lead- that it would leave teeth marks. Does that seem like a valid assumption?"
"I don't..."
"I'm not asking if it is valid," Chigurh said; this was the best part of the game. "I asked if it seems valid."
A pause. "I suppose."
Chigurh nodded, then put the coin in his mouth, and bit. "There," he said, holding out the coin, which now bore faint teeth marks. "Now we know that we're being honest with each other."
"If you say so," the other man replied.
"I do." Hand into the bowl; peanuts popped into the mouth. Leisurely chewing. "Now," Chigurh continued, "now that we know that we're being honest with each other- from which prison have you escaped?"
The man looked startled, then tried to hide it. "What makes you think..."
"I know the gaze of a hunted man," Chigurh said. A pause.
The other man looked around, then leaned forward, and finally whispered, "Azkaban."
"Azkaban," Chigurh repeated, chewing. "And that is...?"
"A prison," the other man said. "A... special prison."
"A special prison," Chigurh said.
"Yes," the other man finally replied. "For... for wizards."
Chigurh stopped chewing; finally swallowed. "Wizards."
"Yes."
"And you are a wizard?"
A haughty look. "Yes."
"I see." A pause. "Are you one of the sort of wizard who follow this man Voldemort?"
A scowl. "Do not use his name so lightly, Muggle."
Chigurh reached for the peanuts. "My apologies. Are you one of his- what is it, Death Eaters?"
A pause. "I was."
Chigurh enjoyed the look of shame for a moment. "But no longer?"
"I failed him," the other man said. "I failed him, and was placed in Azkaban. Now, I must regain his good graces."
"I see. And that is why you require my assistance?"
"Yes," the other man said. Chigurh paused; the other man paused. "I..." the other man finally said, "I need you to find someone."
"Someone," Chigurh repeated.
"A boy," the other man said. "His name is... Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter." Chigurh looked thoughtful. "I have heard that name, since I've been in England. He seems quite famous among... wizards."
A sneer. "An undeserved notoriety, nothing more."
Chigurh tested his smile again. "Of course."
The other man leaned forward; he seemed to have accepted Chigurh as a confidant. "I need to regain my Lord's good graces," he whispered. "With the death of the boy Harry Potter, I can..."
Chigurh nodded. "So, you do not merely wish for me to find the boy," he said. "You want me to kill him."
"He has shamed the Malfoy name, and he shall pay," the other man said. "I have sworn a blood oath."
Chigurh nodded. "I respect the power of an oath," he said, and chewed, and waited, amused.
"Then, you'll do it?" the other man said, dropping any reserve. "I have more gold..."
"I'll do it," Chigurh said, stretching, then getting to his feet. An old injury in his arm throbbed for a moment, then eased. "This story intrigues me."
"Come outside for your gold," the other man said, pulling on his coat. "Curse this stupid Muggle coat..."
"It's all right- you won't have to wear it for long," said Chigurh, twisting the valve on top of the tank he carried as he followed the other man outside; there was a hissing sound. "In fact, although I didn't mention it, I'm a wizard of sorts myself."