Supernatural Crossover Fic - Learning How to Fight 01
This is pretty old actually, but I don't think I ever posted it. So here goes. Not sure I will continue this. .__.
Title: Learning How to Fight 01
Fandom: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Pairing: NA
Rating: PG
Warnings: Cheesy/obligatory Wizard of Oz jokes.
Summary: In which the Winchester boys get mixed up with Wizards.
Dean opened the trunk and eyed the assorted weapons. “So what are we dealing with here?” he asked, reaching for his hunting knife and a tankard of holy water.
Sam leaned against the passenger door and scanned his phone. “You're going to love this one,” he said. Dean slipped the holy water into his coat pocket and tucked his hunting knife into place. “Witches appear to be in the mix, but primarily we’re dealing with wizards.”
Dean tilted his head to peer at his brother. “Wizards?” Sam nodded, quirking his lips with a shrug. “Some kinda Pagan wannabe or hoodoo type mumbo jumbo?” Dean tossed back the holy water and pulled out a nine millimeter. He smiled as he ran his fingers over the cool metal before checking the barrel.
“Bobby didn’t explain very much, just said the source of their power is their wand.”
“A wand?" Dean sniggered. "You think a gun will take care of it or should we stop by the toy store?" Dean peered at his brother to smile at the annoyed expression he knew would be there. "Okay, so obviously it's not hoodoo, but come on, a wizard? Probably just some nut case power tripping from behind a curtain. Wizards aren’t supernatural. They’re human. So how come Bobby has us chasing this guy down instead of just tipping off the local loony bin?” Dean slammed the trunk closed. He fished into his pocket and pulled out the dangling keys.
“Your guess is as good as mine. But this contact Bobby is setting us up with claims to be a wizard.”
"You're seriously telling me there's more than one? I thought the plural was just a figure of speech."
“At least they're supposed to be on our side?” Sam glanced at his phone again. “An Arthur Weasley and family,” he read off the screen.
“And family?” Dean raised an eyebrow.
“I guess the whole family is in on the magic business. We’re to meet them at some place called the Burrow to get more details on this evil guy.” One hand slipped the phone into his pocket.
Dean chuckled. “Evil wizard. So if there are good wizards and bad wizards, how come they don’t just take care of it themselves?” He climbed into the driver's seat, leaning over to flip up the lock on the passenger side.
Sam ducked into the car. “Maybe he’s too powerful?" he suggested. "Maybe it violates some type of wizard code? I dunno, I mean, why couldn’t Glinda take out the Wicked Witch?"
“Because then there would be no movie?” Dean smiled.
"We have come across stranger things,” Sam reminded him. Another chime sounded from Sam's pocket.
“True, but that still doesn’t tell us anything.” Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He waited while Sam wiggled, struggling to pull his phone out of his pocket. “So Toto, where do we meet with Glinda and the gang?” Dean looked at Sam expectantly. Sam checked the screen, face screwed up in concentration as he read the new message.
“There’s a phone booth at the gas station on 5th street and Vine. We passed it on our way to the motel. The AMPM, remember?"
"Right, AMPM it is." Dean slid the keys into the ignition and turned, waiting for the familiar purr of the engine. He pulled out of the motel parking lot, scanning the street as he nosed into the empty road. "He's meeting us at the gas station?"
"No. We’re to use the phone booth and call this number," Sam continued. "We'll receive our next instructions from there.”
“Is it me or do these guys seem a little paranoid?” Dean asked, but Sam was quiet. Dean glanced at his brother quickly, but Sam's eyes were roaming over the message repeatedly searching for anything he may have missed.
“Bobby seems to trust them. We'll have to take our chances."
"Alright then," Dean relaxed into the driver's seat. He turned on the radio, bobbing his head in rhythm with the music. “Did he give us anymore info on these wizards? Any clue on how to fight them?”
“No, that was it. Seems like we won’t be getting any more than that. Not until we meet up with our contacts.” Sam tapped his fingers against his leg.
“And how about you, point dexter. What do you know about wizards?” Dean asked.
Sam took a deep breath as he considered the possibilities. His eyebrows rose trying to figure out where to start while his mind poured over the long list of known cases or representations of wizards. “Well, as you said, they’re not supernatural. Wizards have always been human, but they draw their power from supernatural sources.”
“So good wizards and bad draw upon different sources?” Dean turned onto Vine at the signal, eyes scanning the road ahead for the familiar sign.
“It’s not clear," Sam said in his scholarly voice. "Faust received his power by selling his soul to a devil, but sometimes it’s not a spirit or a demon at all. Sometimes their spells are based on objects of power.”
“Like witches.” Dean offered.
“Yeah, like witches. No one really knows the source, but the good and evil bit is simply based on what they choose to use their power for.”
“White magic and black magic.” Dean muttered aloud, distracted by the appearance of their destination.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded.
“Here’s our stop,” Dean said, drawing attention to the gas station about a block down. He slowed as he reached the driveway, cruising by the few customers at the pumps and settling into the parking spot closest to the side of the building. “The phone should be next to the restrooms.” He put on the brake and switched off the ignition. “So these wands of theirs,” Dean continued. “We break it they’re done?” He looked through the double glass doors at the bored looking sales clerk ringing up coffee.
Sam shook his head. “It’s used to focus and concentrate their power. Any wizard can perform magic without some sort of aid, but spells are thrown. If your aim is poor, chances are you’ll miss.”
“That’s good to know.” Dean's gaze resettled on the attractive twenty-something making the purchase. He paused to admire the bouncing pleats of her mid-length skirt as she exited the shop. “So wands are like an aiming device?” His head turned as she passed.
“Wands or Staffs,” Sam added with slight annoyance. He craned his neck forward, effectively blocking Dean's view. “Destroying the wand will debilitate their magic, but it won’t stop them from using it completely.”
Dean stretched his torso to look behind him, catching a glimpse of her from behind. “Great, so what will?" he returned his attention to Sam. "Other than popping them off that is,” he grinned.
Sam snorted. “Banishment?”
"Great. Guns it is." Dean unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed his keys. "You got that number handy? Think we got time for a little breakfast?"
Sam held up the screen displaying the odd configuration of numbers and opened the door. "Let's go," he said, pushing open his door and ignoring Dean's question. Dean glanced longingly at the aluminum foil packages displayed from the service counter. He sighed and pushed open the car door while Sam disappeared around the corner of the building.
He headed for the lone pay phone a yard away from the restrooms. Sam was leaning against the glass frame, arms crossed. He didn't wait for Dean to catch up before pushing the folding door open and disappearing behind the cloudy transparent walls. Dean noted the colorful phrases etched onto both sides while Sam picked up the receiver and began punching numbers.
"Dude, you need coins for that," Dean said. Sam shot him a look to be quiet. "What? Is the pay phone magic now?"
"I'm calling collect," Sam barked.
"Really?" Dean said.
"No. The email said to just dial." He was distracted by a loud dial tone emanating from the sound piece. Sam gestured at the receiver as if to prove his point.
The phone stopped ringing and a male voice spoke in a crisp British accent. "Thank you for calling the misuse of muggle artifacts department, Arthur Weasley speaking, how may I help you?" a voice said pleasantly.
"Yes, hello Mr. Weasley," Sam said. "This is Sam Winchester. We were instructed to call you by our contact, Bobby Singer."
"Have you now? Wonderful! Frightfully fast, these phone gadgets," he said with wonder.
"We were told to meet you at the burrow?" Sam continued, trying to keep the conversation on track.
"The burrow! Yes! How silly of me to forget. Now tell me young man, are you in the correct location? The phone box at the petrol station?" he said more urgently. Sam could hear his underlying excitement.
"Yes sir. I'm calling you from there now."
"Excellent!" he said before lowering his tone. "Do you see a directory hanging? With a cord attached?"
Sam gave a cursory glance acknowledging the described item. The browning phone book was shedding pages, hanging like a dead man from it's metal cord. "Yes, I see it," he said.
"You and your brother must hold onto this and hold on tight. Hurry now, you only have a minute. I'll see you soon!" he said excitedly before the line went dead. Sam looked at the phone in confusion, placing the receiver back onto the cradle. He reached for the phone book plunking it down on the shelf attached beneath the phone.
"Grab onto this," he told Dean. "He said we only have a minute." He gripped the cord tightly waiting for something weird to happen.
"Uh yeah, sure. How about you hold onto that for me while I get us some breakfast?" Dean rummaged in his pocket for a few dollars. "I think they have a special on breakfast burritos."
"He said to hold on tight," Sam flexed his fingers.
Dean sniggered and fished out his wallet. Sam grabbed his brother's wrist impatiently, trying to force his hand. Dean tugged back and then both brothers paused. They shot panicked looks as the world dissolved around them and an invisible force pulled.
Dean's fingers clasped the metal cord too late, slipping almost immediately. Sam tightened his grip on his brother's wrist deciding that if they both managed to survive this, his brother was never eating a breakfast burrito again. The world was a blur beside them while the object grasped tightly in Sam's hand seemed unmoving. What was perhaps thirty seconds of terror stretched out endlessly until their bodies slowed; blurs sharpened into color and Dean's yelling could be heard above the rush of wind in his ears. Sam panicked as the ground rose sharply to meet them. He braced himself for an impact he expected to kill him; instead, he landed like one falling off a bed.
Sam let out a pained groan, hand still glued to the metal tether while brittle pages scattered like feathers. His other hand grasped air.
Sam's head darted up to search frantically. Dean landed a moment later, hitting the ground with a sharp thud a few feet away. Sam sighed in relief, letting his head fall back against the grass.
Dean groaned, spitting out what Sam assumed was grass. Sam didn't try to get up, chuckling at their situation more out of nervous excitement than amusement. He heard Dean sigh and roll over onto his back. "You okay?" Sam asked. He turned his head to look at his brother, pressing his cheek against scratchy blades of bright green grass. This definitely wasn't the gas station.
"Yeah, lucky for me my face broke that fall." Dean rubbed his nose, checking his fingers for signs of blood. His head rolled back and his hand fell to his side. Sam could see his chest rising in slow, deep breaths. "What the hell was that? And where is my wallet?" Dean said angrily.
A brown projectile hurled towards them. Dean let out a pained groan. "Nevermind, it found me." Dean grimaced and picked up the wallet that bounced off his chest. "If he was going to use his mojo on us, he could have at least warned us." Sam snorted at Dean's choice of words. "What?" Dean sounded annoyed.
"Nothing," Sam replied. He placed his palms flat against the springy grass, pushing his body up. He rose slowly, applying weight to each limb carefully. When nothing seemed to be broken, he rose to his feet, walking the short distance to his brother and offering a hand to help him up.
"You still want that breakfast burrito?" Dean took Sam's hand and struggled onto his feet. He dusted off the dirt and grass from his jeans while his eyes scanned the area around them. Sam looked too, noting the wide open plains, the clear blue sky and the white cumulus clouds hanging like a photo. This land was too wavy, too full of hills to be the state they woke up in this morning.
"You see an AMPM out here?" Dean's eyes narrowed on one point. Sam followed his gaze to a middle aged man approaching them. His red hair burned in the distance like a torch, the material of what appeared to be an ugly oversized dress jouncing with each step.
Maybe we should ask the Wizard," Sam smiled.
Title: Learning How to Fight 01
Fandom: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Pairing: NA
Rating: PG
Warnings: Cheesy/obligatory Wizard of Oz jokes.
Summary: In which the Winchester boys get mixed up with Wizards.
Dean opened the trunk and eyed the assorted weapons. “So what are we dealing with here?” he asked, reaching for his hunting knife and a tankard of holy water.
Sam leaned against the passenger door and scanned his phone. “You're going to love this one,” he said. Dean slipped the holy water into his coat pocket and tucked his hunting knife into place. “Witches appear to be in the mix, but primarily we’re dealing with wizards.”
Dean tilted his head to peer at his brother. “Wizards?” Sam nodded, quirking his lips with a shrug. “Some kinda Pagan wannabe or hoodoo type mumbo jumbo?” Dean tossed back the holy water and pulled out a nine millimeter. He smiled as he ran his fingers over the cool metal before checking the barrel.
“Bobby didn’t explain very much, just said the source of their power is their wand.”
“A wand?" Dean sniggered. "You think a gun will take care of it or should we stop by the toy store?" Dean peered at his brother to smile at the annoyed expression he knew would be there. "Okay, so obviously it's not hoodoo, but come on, a wizard? Probably just some nut case power tripping from behind a curtain. Wizards aren’t supernatural. They’re human. So how come Bobby has us chasing this guy down instead of just tipping off the local loony bin?” Dean slammed the trunk closed. He fished into his pocket and pulled out the dangling keys.
“Your guess is as good as mine. But this contact Bobby is setting us up with claims to be a wizard.”
"You're seriously telling me there's more than one? I thought the plural was just a figure of speech."
“At least they're supposed to be on our side?” Sam glanced at his phone again. “An Arthur Weasley and family,” he read off the screen.
“And family?” Dean raised an eyebrow.
“I guess the whole family is in on the magic business. We’re to meet them at some place called the Burrow to get more details on this evil guy.” One hand slipped the phone into his pocket.
Dean chuckled. “Evil wizard. So if there are good wizards and bad wizards, how come they don’t just take care of it themselves?” He climbed into the driver's seat, leaning over to flip up the lock on the passenger side.
Sam ducked into the car. “Maybe he’s too powerful?" he suggested. "Maybe it violates some type of wizard code? I dunno, I mean, why couldn’t Glinda take out the Wicked Witch?"
“Because then there would be no movie?” Dean smiled.
"We have come across stranger things,” Sam reminded him. Another chime sounded from Sam's pocket.
“True, but that still doesn’t tell us anything.” Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He waited while Sam wiggled, struggling to pull his phone out of his pocket. “So Toto, where do we meet with Glinda and the gang?” Dean looked at Sam expectantly. Sam checked the screen, face screwed up in concentration as he read the new message.
“There’s a phone booth at the gas station on 5th street and Vine. We passed it on our way to the motel. The AMPM, remember?"
"Right, AMPM it is." Dean slid the keys into the ignition and turned, waiting for the familiar purr of the engine. He pulled out of the motel parking lot, scanning the street as he nosed into the empty road. "He's meeting us at the gas station?"
"No. We’re to use the phone booth and call this number," Sam continued. "We'll receive our next instructions from there.”
“Is it me or do these guys seem a little paranoid?” Dean asked, but Sam was quiet. Dean glanced at his brother quickly, but Sam's eyes were roaming over the message repeatedly searching for anything he may have missed.
“Bobby seems to trust them. We'll have to take our chances."
"Alright then," Dean relaxed into the driver's seat. He turned on the radio, bobbing his head in rhythm with the music. “Did he give us anymore info on these wizards? Any clue on how to fight them?”
“No, that was it. Seems like we won’t be getting any more than that. Not until we meet up with our contacts.” Sam tapped his fingers against his leg.
“And how about you, point dexter. What do you know about wizards?” Dean asked.
Sam took a deep breath as he considered the possibilities. His eyebrows rose trying to figure out where to start while his mind poured over the long list of known cases or representations of wizards. “Well, as you said, they’re not supernatural. Wizards have always been human, but they draw their power from supernatural sources.”
“So good wizards and bad draw upon different sources?” Dean turned onto Vine at the signal, eyes scanning the road ahead for the familiar sign.
“It’s not clear," Sam said in his scholarly voice. "Faust received his power by selling his soul to a devil, but sometimes it’s not a spirit or a demon at all. Sometimes their spells are based on objects of power.”
“Like witches.” Dean offered.
“Yeah, like witches. No one really knows the source, but the good and evil bit is simply based on what they choose to use their power for.”
“White magic and black magic.” Dean muttered aloud, distracted by the appearance of their destination.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded.
“Here’s our stop,” Dean said, drawing attention to the gas station about a block down. He slowed as he reached the driveway, cruising by the few customers at the pumps and settling into the parking spot closest to the side of the building. “The phone should be next to the restrooms.” He put on the brake and switched off the ignition. “So these wands of theirs,” Dean continued. “We break it they’re done?” He looked through the double glass doors at the bored looking sales clerk ringing up coffee.
Sam shook his head. “It’s used to focus and concentrate their power. Any wizard can perform magic without some sort of aid, but spells are thrown. If your aim is poor, chances are you’ll miss.”
“That’s good to know.” Dean's gaze resettled on the attractive twenty-something making the purchase. He paused to admire the bouncing pleats of her mid-length skirt as she exited the shop. “So wands are like an aiming device?” His head turned as she passed.
“Wands or Staffs,” Sam added with slight annoyance. He craned his neck forward, effectively blocking Dean's view. “Destroying the wand will debilitate their magic, but it won’t stop them from using it completely.”
Dean stretched his torso to look behind him, catching a glimpse of her from behind. “Great, so what will?" he returned his attention to Sam. "Other than popping them off that is,” he grinned.
Sam snorted. “Banishment?”
"Great. Guns it is." Dean unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed his keys. "You got that number handy? Think we got time for a little breakfast?"
Sam held up the screen displaying the odd configuration of numbers and opened the door. "Let's go," he said, pushing open his door and ignoring Dean's question. Dean glanced longingly at the aluminum foil packages displayed from the service counter. He sighed and pushed open the car door while Sam disappeared around the corner of the building.
He headed for the lone pay phone a yard away from the restrooms. Sam was leaning against the glass frame, arms crossed. He didn't wait for Dean to catch up before pushing the folding door open and disappearing behind the cloudy transparent walls. Dean noted the colorful phrases etched onto both sides while Sam picked up the receiver and began punching numbers.
"Dude, you need coins for that," Dean said. Sam shot him a look to be quiet. "What? Is the pay phone magic now?"
"I'm calling collect," Sam barked.
"Really?" Dean said.
"No. The email said to just dial." He was distracted by a loud dial tone emanating from the sound piece. Sam gestured at the receiver as if to prove his point.
The phone stopped ringing and a male voice spoke in a crisp British accent. "Thank you for calling the misuse of muggle artifacts department, Arthur Weasley speaking, how may I help you?" a voice said pleasantly.
"Yes, hello Mr. Weasley," Sam said. "This is Sam Winchester. We were instructed to call you by our contact, Bobby Singer."
"Have you now? Wonderful! Frightfully fast, these phone gadgets," he said with wonder.
"We were told to meet you at the burrow?" Sam continued, trying to keep the conversation on track.
"The burrow! Yes! How silly of me to forget. Now tell me young man, are you in the correct location? The phone box at the petrol station?" he said more urgently. Sam could hear his underlying excitement.
"Yes sir. I'm calling you from there now."
"Excellent!" he said before lowering his tone. "Do you see a directory hanging? With a cord attached?"
Sam gave a cursory glance acknowledging the described item. The browning phone book was shedding pages, hanging like a dead man from it's metal cord. "Yes, I see it," he said.
"You and your brother must hold onto this and hold on tight. Hurry now, you only have a minute. I'll see you soon!" he said excitedly before the line went dead. Sam looked at the phone in confusion, placing the receiver back onto the cradle. He reached for the phone book plunking it down on the shelf attached beneath the phone.
"Grab onto this," he told Dean. "He said we only have a minute." He gripped the cord tightly waiting for something weird to happen.
"Uh yeah, sure. How about you hold onto that for me while I get us some breakfast?" Dean rummaged in his pocket for a few dollars. "I think they have a special on breakfast burritos."
"He said to hold on tight," Sam flexed his fingers.
Dean sniggered and fished out his wallet. Sam grabbed his brother's wrist impatiently, trying to force his hand. Dean tugged back and then both brothers paused. They shot panicked looks as the world dissolved around them and an invisible force pulled.
Dean's fingers clasped the metal cord too late, slipping almost immediately. Sam tightened his grip on his brother's wrist deciding that if they both managed to survive this, his brother was never eating a breakfast burrito again. The world was a blur beside them while the object grasped tightly in Sam's hand seemed unmoving. What was perhaps thirty seconds of terror stretched out endlessly until their bodies slowed; blurs sharpened into color and Dean's yelling could be heard above the rush of wind in his ears. Sam panicked as the ground rose sharply to meet them. He braced himself for an impact he expected to kill him; instead, he landed like one falling off a bed.
Sam let out a pained groan, hand still glued to the metal tether while brittle pages scattered like feathers. His other hand grasped air.
Sam's head darted up to search frantically. Dean landed a moment later, hitting the ground with a sharp thud a few feet away. Sam sighed in relief, letting his head fall back against the grass.
Dean groaned, spitting out what Sam assumed was grass. Sam didn't try to get up, chuckling at their situation more out of nervous excitement than amusement. He heard Dean sigh and roll over onto his back. "You okay?" Sam asked. He turned his head to look at his brother, pressing his cheek against scratchy blades of bright green grass. This definitely wasn't the gas station.
"Yeah, lucky for me my face broke that fall." Dean rubbed his nose, checking his fingers for signs of blood. His head rolled back and his hand fell to his side. Sam could see his chest rising in slow, deep breaths. "What the hell was that? And where is my wallet?" Dean said angrily.
A brown projectile hurled towards them. Dean let out a pained groan. "Nevermind, it found me." Dean grimaced and picked up the wallet that bounced off his chest. "If he was going to use his mojo on us, he could have at least warned us." Sam snorted at Dean's choice of words. "What?" Dean sounded annoyed.
"Nothing," Sam replied. He placed his palms flat against the springy grass, pushing his body up. He rose slowly, applying weight to each limb carefully. When nothing seemed to be broken, he rose to his feet, walking the short distance to his brother and offering a hand to help him up.
"You still want that breakfast burrito?" Dean took Sam's hand and struggled onto his feet. He dusted off the dirt and grass from his jeans while his eyes scanned the area around them. Sam looked too, noting the wide open plains, the clear blue sky and the white cumulus clouds hanging like a photo. This land was too wavy, too full of hills to be the state they woke up in this morning.
"You see an AMPM out here?" Dean's eyes narrowed on one point. Sam followed his gaze to a middle aged man approaching them. His red hair burned in the distance like a torch, the material of what appeared to be an ugly oversized dress jouncing with each step.
Maybe we should ask the Wizard," Sam smiled.