colts, bolts and pygmy puffs too [spn/hp][one-shot]
Title: Colts, Bolts and Pygmy Puffs Too
Fandom: Harry Potter/Supernatural
Characters: Arthur, Ron, George, Bobby, Sam, Dean.
Word Count: 2209
Rating: PG
Summary: Arthur is visited by Bobby Singer.
Note: The first of my gift fics. Despite all my procrastination, I am slowly finishing all of them up. This one's for tygermama who asked for a story about:
"Bobby and Arthur Weasley, with griping about kids these days and maybe some Bobby teaching Arthur about Muggle stuff."
tygermama , you gave a wonderful prompt - I'm sorry to say, I sort of ran away with it. *grimaces* I don't think this deserves to be shown to the public (more like, hidden under my bed with all my other dirty secrets), but I do hope you get at least a tiny bit of holiday cheer out of it. :)
Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was all hustle and bustle as usual. The lateness of the hour didn’t seem to matter to any of the customers. When mischief was to be had, sleep didn’t stand a chance. And with the new school year just around the corner, a lot of kids were looking to stock up on the essentials.
Arthur Weasley was proud that his sons were doing so well. In fact, he couldn’t be prouder - now if only they’d remember to get home for dinner on time too. Ron and George both knew very well that Molly had reserved Friday nights for family dinners, and being late was really asking for it. George was, of course, never one for punctuality, but Arthur had thought Ron would have a little more sense. After all, his mother wasn’t the only woman who was going to be hounding him for not being prompt. Over the past few weeks, Arthur had begun to see the similarities in Hermione and Molly. In fact, he’d caught them once, both glaring at the clock with the exact same expression on their faces and it hadn’t been a pleasant sight. The world really only had room enough for one Molly Weasley, bless her.
“Ron,” called out Arthur as his son walked past with a box.
“Be right with you, Dad!” Ron said over his shoulder. Arthur watched as he walked over to the love potion display and began restocking, to the utter delight of a handful of girls who were giggling at the top of their voices.
Giggling and talking at the same time. Arthur never understood how they managed that.
“What’s a man gotta do to get a job done around here?” came a gruff voice with an American accent.
Arthur turned around and smiled at the sight that met him. “Bobby Singer.”
Bobby returned the greeting, walked up to Arthur. “Molly told me you were here. Been looking everywhere for you.”
“Sorry,” replied Arthur. “I was trying to get the boys home for dinner before their mother decides to take matters into her own hands.” He waved a hand at Ron, who was taking the attention of the gaggle of girls surrounding him with pink ears and a grin, and George, who was tallying someone’s purchases at the front.
“Not much of a success, huh?” said Bobby with a grin.
“No, well, boys shall be boys,” replied Arthur. “George,” he said, lifting a finger as his son hurried by, but George simply shouted, “In a sec, Dad,” and then disappeared into the back of the store.
“Yep,” replied Bobby, glancing over his shoulder. Arthur followed his gaze to two young men who were standing awkwardly near the front door. Brothers, Arthur guessed. The taller one was shifting slightly on his feet, glancing around at the barrels and shelves full of merchandise around him like they were liable to explode at any moment. The other had one hand in his pocket and was examining all the customers with a fierce gaze. They both caught Bobby’s eye, and though Arthur couldn’t see the expression on Bobby’s face, whatever it conveyed caused them to relax, though in different proportions. The shorter of the two pulled his hand out of his coat and moved forward to check out a jar of eyeballs. The taller one still looked tense, but followed his brother warily.
“So, Arthur, you got anything for me?” asked Bobby.
“Ah, of course,” said Arthur. He pulled out his wand, tapped the counter in front of him. A thick stack of papers appeared there and Bobby reached for them.
“Didn’t find out much,” said Arthur. “As far as I can tell, the firearm has no magical properties to speak of. No charms, no curses, no nothing. For all it’s worth, it looks like a normal Muggle weapon to me. If it was originally made when a comet was overhead, then I’d be willing to say that is the reason it’s so powerful, but as you said, your demon friend managed to fix it without the comet, so…” Arthur trailed off, watched the brothers who’d come in with Bobby stare at the little Pygmy Puffs in their cages, before sighing.
“I’ve written down everything I learned though. I don’t have much experience with demons, so maybe there’s something in there that’ll help you.”
“Even the tiniest detail could help at this point,” murmured Bobby, flipping a page. Arthur felt a pang of sympathy for the man. They’d only just won their own war, and the wounds, the hurts, the sacrifices were still fresh in Arthur’s mind. He was sure he would never forget the feeling. He’d only met Bobby a month earlier, when the man had come to him through some contacts, wanting to know if a gun he possessed was magical in the truest sense of the word. Yet, he already felt a strange sort of bond with him. He knew how it felt to fight a war half the world didn’t even know was being waged.
And it was harder when your family was part of the battle too. Arthur looked up, found the two brothers in the crowd again. They were closer now and their voices carried.
“Dean, don’t touch anything,” the taller one was saying as he pulled Dean’s hand away from a barrel of Cockroach Clusters.
“Of course not, Mom,” replied Dean, turning around and picking up a box of Puking Pastilles from a shelf. He gazed at the label with a grin, and then held the box out to his brother. “Hey Sam, I dare you to try one of these.”
Sam gazed at Dean with disdain and probably would have managed a cutting reply if George hadn’t chosen that exact moment to appear - literally. Arthur wasn’t sure if it was protocol to Apparate in front of your customers (he really hadn’t visited the shop enough - mostly because he enjoyed the full use of all his limbs) but Apparate George did, and with a resounding crack too. Sam’s eyes almost popped out of his head. He stumbled backwards and crashed into the display of Pygmy Puffs before toppling to the floor. Dean had dropped the box of Puking Pastilles, but he was still standing. Looked a little shell shocked, and Arthur caught his hand hovering near his pocket, but on the whole, he seemed to have taken it much better than Sam. Arthur had the feeling that while Bobby must have told the boys what they were walking into, only Dean had really, truly believed him.
“Excellent pick, my good sir!” George was saying, having rescued the Puking Pastilles from the floor and handed them back to Dean. ‘Guaranteed to have you puking like never before in a matter of seconds. Perfect distraction in any sticky situation.”
Dean, it appeared, hadn’t thought of it that way, and he now gazed at the box in a new light.
By then, Ron had managed to extricate himself from the group of giggling girls and was helping a profusely apologetic Sam up.
“He just - I didn’t mean to - he just-” Sam was saying, still looking a bit wide eyed.
Ron looked like he was trying not to laugh as he set Sam on his feet and then went back to pick up the fallen Pygmy Puff cages. “Happens all the time,” Ron assured Sam.
“Here, take this too.” George was busy piling Dean up with goods. Arthur recognized the box of Ton Tongue Toffee, a bottle of Eau de Amour, a couple of packages of Sugar Quills, Fizzing Whizbees and Licorice Wands, and another handful of things Arthur couldn’t quite make out.
“And this,” George said, adding to a pile that was already higher than Dean’s head, “is very popular with the ladies, if you know what I mean.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, an expression Dean returned with a knowing look. Arthur had no idea what was in the package, but rest assured he was going to find out exactly what was so popular with the ladies.
George looked around the shop and his eyes lit up when he spotted a vase filled with long silver sticks. He grabbed one and added that to Dean’s arms too. “This one’s got really good feedback - you can try it on your brother.”
Sam, who was hovering nearby, close enough to Dean and far enough from George, looked up at the word “brother”.
Ron, passing with a box of new merchandise, grinned and said, “Don’t let it bother you, mate. They’re just taking the mickey.”
“Taking the mickey,” repeated Sam, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant.
“Lighten up, Sammy,” said Dean, from behind his stack of bags, bottles and boxes. He peered around them with a cheerful grin.
Sam didn’t look like he wanted to “lighten up” but he returned Dean’s smile with a halfhearted one of his own, and picked up a Blood Lozenge hesitantly from a box.
“For vampires,” said Ron, returning with a now-empty box. “Tastes just like human blood - without having to-”
“Gank a person?” interrupted Dean, sounding amazed. He took the lozenge from Sam’s hand, having emptied his arms into a tiny basket George had dug up for him. Arthur watched Sam glance causally at the basket and then do a double take, looking suddenly confused.
“Gank?” repeated Ron, tasting the word. “Yeah, I suppose.”
Sam was still looking at the basket. “How is that even poss-” he began, but Dean barreled right over him.
“Okay, Sam, we’re definitely buying a hundred of these. They could really come in useful on a hunt. Or we could just send them to Lenore for Christmas!”
“Sure thing, Dean,” replied Sam, rolling his eyes. “As soon as you pay for them.”
“Do you take human money?” asked Dean promptly, turning to George.
Sam let out a world-weary sigh. “They’re human too, Dean.”
“Whatever it was Bobby said. Muddles? Do you take Muddle money?” asked Dean. “Or, is it Muddy? Muddy money?”
“We take all kinds of money, mate,” said George, putting an arm around Dean and leading him away. “Muddy, smelly, ugly, you name it.”
“Thanks for this, Arthur,” said Bobby, looking up and tearing Arthur away from the show.
“Doesn’t help much, does it?” asked Arthur sympathetically.
“Not much, but it’s a start and a starts all we need. If we can replicate the Colt…” Bobby sighed, glanced at Sam and Dean before going on. “We might have a chance.”
“I was happy to do it. It’s not every day I meet a Muggle who knows about magic,” replied Arthur.
“About that,” said Bobby, rummaging in his pockets. He extracted a small bag and handed it to Arthur. “Here’s the part you needed for your motorcycle. I added a couple of other things too - some nuts and bolts and other things I had lying around. Know how much you like ‘em.” His voice carried an inflection that clearly said he wasn’t sure why anyone would get excited over a handful of bolts.
Arthur’s eyes lit up as he examined the contents of the bag. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said, gleefully.
“You sure you don’t need more help with the bike?” Bobby went on. “You could bring it over to the US; I’d give her a fix up.”
Arthur shook his head, leaned closer. “Molly doesn’t really er - know that I’m fixing the thing up. The last time I had a Muggle vehicle in my possession I made it fly and she hasn’t really gotten over it. I don’t think I’d be able to get away, so my shed will have to do for now. It’s almost done, from what I’ve read.”
Bobby gave Arthur a long look before nodding. “Yeah, well, don’t get yourself killed, alright? And if you need any help, you know how to reach me.”
“Yes,” replied Arthur with a small smile.
“Best be going now. We’re probably missing a hell of a lot of hunting. Can’t stay away forever. Thanks again for your help, Arthur.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Arthur, as Bobby turned away, walked over to Sam, who was looking exasperated, and Dean, who was holding two full bags of stuff. George and Ron were nearby and they waved goodbye as Sam and Dean followed Bobby out.
“If you ever need anything else,” called Arthur, just before the door closed behind them.
Bobby raised a hand in understanding as the door softly swung shut, a wall between their momentarily shared worlds.
Arthur watched through the large plate glass windows as Bobby ushered Sam and Dean down the alley, as Dean pulled out his silver stick and proceeded to poke Sam with it, as Sam tried unsuccessfully to swat Dean away.
Arthur didn’t know if it was just him, but the shop felt a little emptier, suddenly, a little dimmer. He knew very little about Bobby, Sam and Dean - he knew even less about what they were fighting. But if this feeling was anything to go by, then they were the ones who deserved to win. Who needed to win. Who had to win.
Because, thought Arthur, as he looked around for his sons.
That was the way things were meant to be.
**
End
Fandom: Harry Potter/Supernatural
Characters: Arthur, Ron, George, Bobby, Sam, Dean.
Word Count: 2209
Rating: PG
Summary: Arthur is visited by Bobby Singer.
Note: The first of my gift fics. Despite all my procrastination, I am slowly finishing all of them up. This one's for tygermama who asked for a story about:
"Bobby and Arthur Weasley, with griping about kids these days and maybe some Bobby teaching Arthur about Muggle stuff."
tygermama , you gave a wonderful prompt - I'm sorry to say, I sort of ran away with it. *grimaces* I don't think this deserves to be shown to the public (more like, hidden under my bed with all my other dirty secrets), but I do hope you get at least a tiny bit of holiday cheer out of it. :)
Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was all hustle and bustle as usual. The lateness of the hour didn’t seem to matter to any of the customers. When mischief was to be had, sleep didn’t stand a chance. And with the new school year just around the corner, a lot of kids were looking to stock up on the essentials.
Arthur Weasley was proud that his sons were doing so well. In fact, he couldn’t be prouder - now if only they’d remember to get home for dinner on time too. Ron and George both knew very well that Molly had reserved Friday nights for family dinners, and being late was really asking for it. George was, of course, never one for punctuality, but Arthur had thought Ron would have a little more sense. After all, his mother wasn’t the only woman who was going to be hounding him for not being prompt. Over the past few weeks, Arthur had begun to see the similarities in Hermione and Molly. In fact, he’d caught them once, both glaring at the clock with the exact same expression on their faces and it hadn’t been a pleasant sight. The world really only had room enough for one Molly Weasley, bless her.
“Ron,” called out Arthur as his son walked past with a box.
“Be right with you, Dad!” Ron said over his shoulder. Arthur watched as he walked over to the love potion display and began restocking, to the utter delight of a handful of girls who were giggling at the top of their voices.
Giggling and talking at the same time. Arthur never understood how they managed that.
“What’s a man gotta do to get a job done around here?” came a gruff voice with an American accent.
Arthur turned around and smiled at the sight that met him. “Bobby Singer.”
Bobby returned the greeting, walked up to Arthur. “Molly told me you were here. Been looking everywhere for you.”
“Sorry,” replied Arthur. “I was trying to get the boys home for dinner before their mother decides to take matters into her own hands.” He waved a hand at Ron, who was taking the attention of the gaggle of girls surrounding him with pink ears and a grin, and George, who was tallying someone’s purchases at the front.
“Not much of a success, huh?” said Bobby with a grin.
“No, well, boys shall be boys,” replied Arthur. “George,” he said, lifting a finger as his son hurried by, but George simply shouted, “In a sec, Dad,” and then disappeared into the back of the store.
“Yep,” replied Bobby, glancing over his shoulder. Arthur followed his gaze to two young men who were standing awkwardly near the front door. Brothers, Arthur guessed. The taller one was shifting slightly on his feet, glancing around at the barrels and shelves full of merchandise around him like they were liable to explode at any moment. The other had one hand in his pocket and was examining all the customers with a fierce gaze. They both caught Bobby’s eye, and though Arthur couldn’t see the expression on Bobby’s face, whatever it conveyed caused them to relax, though in different proportions. The shorter of the two pulled his hand out of his coat and moved forward to check out a jar of eyeballs. The taller one still looked tense, but followed his brother warily.
“So, Arthur, you got anything for me?” asked Bobby.
“Ah, of course,” said Arthur. He pulled out his wand, tapped the counter in front of him. A thick stack of papers appeared there and Bobby reached for them.
“Didn’t find out much,” said Arthur. “As far as I can tell, the firearm has no magical properties to speak of. No charms, no curses, no nothing. For all it’s worth, it looks like a normal Muggle weapon to me. If it was originally made when a comet was overhead, then I’d be willing to say that is the reason it’s so powerful, but as you said, your demon friend managed to fix it without the comet, so…” Arthur trailed off, watched the brothers who’d come in with Bobby stare at the little Pygmy Puffs in their cages, before sighing.
“I’ve written down everything I learned though. I don’t have much experience with demons, so maybe there’s something in there that’ll help you.”
“Even the tiniest detail could help at this point,” murmured Bobby, flipping a page. Arthur felt a pang of sympathy for the man. They’d only just won their own war, and the wounds, the hurts, the sacrifices were still fresh in Arthur’s mind. He was sure he would never forget the feeling. He’d only met Bobby a month earlier, when the man had come to him through some contacts, wanting to know if a gun he possessed was magical in the truest sense of the word. Yet, he already felt a strange sort of bond with him. He knew how it felt to fight a war half the world didn’t even know was being waged.
And it was harder when your family was part of the battle too. Arthur looked up, found the two brothers in the crowd again. They were closer now and their voices carried.
“Dean, don’t touch anything,” the taller one was saying as he pulled Dean’s hand away from a barrel of Cockroach Clusters.
“Of course not, Mom,” replied Dean, turning around and picking up a box of Puking Pastilles from a shelf. He gazed at the label with a grin, and then held the box out to his brother. “Hey Sam, I dare you to try one of these.”
Sam gazed at Dean with disdain and probably would have managed a cutting reply if George hadn’t chosen that exact moment to appear - literally. Arthur wasn’t sure if it was protocol to Apparate in front of your customers (he really hadn’t visited the shop enough - mostly because he enjoyed the full use of all his limbs) but Apparate George did, and with a resounding crack too. Sam’s eyes almost popped out of his head. He stumbled backwards and crashed into the display of Pygmy Puffs before toppling to the floor. Dean had dropped the box of Puking Pastilles, but he was still standing. Looked a little shell shocked, and Arthur caught his hand hovering near his pocket, but on the whole, he seemed to have taken it much better than Sam. Arthur had the feeling that while Bobby must have told the boys what they were walking into, only Dean had really, truly believed him.
“Excellent pick, my good sir!” George was saying, having rescued the Puking Pastilles from the floor and handed them back to Dean. ‘Guaranteed to have you puking like never before in a matter of seconds. Perfect distraction in any sticky situation.”
Dean, it appeared, hadn’t thought of it that way, and he now gazed at the box in a new light.
By then, Ron had managed to extricate himself from the group of giggling girls and was helping a profusely apologetic Sam up.
“He just - I didn’t mean to - he just-” Sam was saying, still looking a bit wide eyed.
Ron looked like he was trying not to laugh as he set Sam on his feet and then went back to pick up the fallen Pygmy Puff cages. “Happens all the time,” Ron assured Sam.
“Here, take this too.” George was busy piling Dean up with goods. Arthur recognized the box of Ton Tongue Toffee, a bottle of Eau de Amour, a couple of packages of Sugar Quills, Fizzing Whizbees and Licorice Wands, and another handful of things Arthur couldn’t quite make out.
“And this,” George said, adding to a pile that was already higher than Dean’s head, “is very popular with the ladies, if you know what I mean.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, an expression Dean returned with a knowing look. Arthur had no idea what was in the package, but rest assured he was going to find out exactly what was so popular with the ladies.
George looked around the shop and his eyes lit up when he spotted a vase filled with long silver sticks. He grabbed one and added that to Dean’s arms too. “This one’s got really good feedback - you can try it on your brother.”
Sam, who was hovering nearby, close enough to Dean and far enough from George, looked up at the word “brother”.
Ron, passing with a box of new merchandise, grinned and said, “Don’t let it bother you, mate. They’re just taking the mickey.”
“Taking the mickey,” repeated Sam, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant.
“Lighten up, Sammy,” said Dean, from behind his stack of bags, bottles and boxes. He peered around them with a cheerful grin.
Sam didn’t look like he wanted to “lighten up” but he returned Dean’s smile with a halfhearted one of his own, and picked up a Blood Lozenge hesitantly from a box.
“For vampires,” said Ron, returning with a now-empty box. “Tastes just like human blood - without having to-”
“Gank a person?” interrupted Dean, sounding amazed. He took the lozenge from Sam’s hand, having emptied his arms into a tiny basket George had dug up for him. Arthur watched Sam glance causally at the basket and then do a double take, looking suddenly confused.
“Gank?” repeated Ron, tasting the word. “Yeah, I suppose.”
Sam was still looking at the basket. “How is that even poss-” he began, but Dean barreled right over him.
“Okay, Sam, we’re definitely buying a hundred of these. They could really come in useful on a hunt. Or we could just send them to Lenore for Christmas!”
“Sure thing, Dean,” replied Sam, rolling his eyes. “As soon as you pay for them.”
“Do you take human money?” asked Dean promptly, turning to George.
Sam let out a world-weary sigh. “They’re human too, Dean.”
“Whatever it was Bobby said. Muddles? Do you take Muddle money?” asked Dean. “Or, is it Muddy? Muddy money?”
“We take all kinds of money, mate,” said George, putting an arm around Dean and leading him away. “Muddy, smelly, ugly, you name it.”
“Thanks for this, Arthur,” said Bobby, looking up and tearing Arthur away from the show.
“Doesn’t help much, does it?” asked Arthur sympathetically.
“Not much, but it’s a start and a starts all we need. If we can replicate the Colt…” Bobby sighed, glanced at Sam and Dean before going on. “We might have a chance.”
“I was happy to do it. It’s not every day I meet a Muggle who knows about magic,” replied Arthur.
“About that,” said Bobby, rummaging in his pockets. He extracted a small bag and handed it to Arthur. “Here’s the part you needed for your motorcycle. I added a couple of other things too - some nuts and bolts and other things I had lying around. Know how much you like ‘em.” His voice carried an inflection that clearly said he wasn’t sure why anyone would get excited over a handful of bolts.
Arthur’s eyes lit up as he examined the contents of the bag. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said, gleefully.
“You sure you don’t need more help with the bike?” Bobby went on. “You could bring it over to the US; I’d give her a fix up.”
Arthur shook his head, leaned closer. “Molly doesn’t really er - know that I’m fixing the thing up. The last time I had a Muggle vehicle in my possession I made it fly and she hasn’t really gotten over it. I don’t think I’d be able to get away, so my shed will have to do for now. It’s almost done, from what I’ve read.”
Bobby gave Arthur a long look before nodding. “Yeah, well, don’t get yourself killed, alright? And if you need any help, you know how to reach me.”
“Yes,” replied Arthur with a small smile.
“Best be going now. We’re probably missing a hell of a lot of hunting. Can’t stay away forever. Thanks again for your help, Arthur.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Arthur, as Bobby turned away, walked over to Sam, who was looking exasperated, and Dean, who was holding two full bags of stuff. George and Ron were nearby and they waved goodbye as Sam and Dean followed Bobby out.
“If you ever need anything else,” called Arthur, just before the door closed behind them.
Bobby raised a hand in understanding as the door softly swung shut, a wall between their momentarily shared worlds.
Arthur watched through the large plate glass windows as Bobby ushered Sam and Dean down the alley, as Dean pulled out his silver stick and proceeded to poke Sam with it, as Sam tried unsuccessfully to swat Dean away.
Arthur didn’t know if it was just him, but the shop felt a little emptier, suddenly, a little dimmer. He knew very little about Bobby, Sam and Dean - he knew even less about what they were fighting. But if this feeling was anything to go by, then they were the ones who deserved to win. Who needed to win. Who had to win.
Because, thought Arthur, as he looked around for his sons.
That was the way things were meant to be.
**
End