Appointment in Samarra: Meeting the Master: A Harry Potter/Supernatural Crossover
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own Supernatural or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to Eric Kripke and Robert Singer.
Plot: One-Shot: When Dean attempted to retrieve Sam's soul, he found his attempts blocked, not by Death, but by one with the power to trump the Horseman himself. Master Hunter, meet the Master of Death!
Author's Note: Just a bit of a silly one-shot based on the episode from Supernatural; call it a story starter if you want, but this was just a random idea that came to me watching said episode.
And, as always, if you don't like it, don't read it.
WARNING: Slight spoilers for S6 of Supernatural
Meeting the Master
"Messorum evoco qui me tetigit."
"Dean?"
With a start, Dean rounded on the spot, his eyes widening slightly as he saw Tessa, an old friend from the past – and not really the Reaper he intended to summon, but she'd do – standing behind him, a look of disbelief on her face as she asked, "What the hell?"
"What do you know?" asked Dean, a note of amusement in his words as he drawled, "It worked."
Tessa, on the other hand, seemed less-than-pleased as she explained, "I was in the Sudan; what's with yanking me over…wait…"
Here, her eyes narrowed as she asked, "Are you dead?"
"Tessa, I need a favour," said Dean, earning a scoff from the female Reaper
"Oh, you're kidding: you died to ask me…"
"Tell your boss I need to talk to him," Dean interrupted, earning an alarmed look from Tessa while Dean stared her down.
"No," said Tessa, her tone suggesting she wasn't in the mood for arguments.
Dean, however, wouldn't cave, "Please?"
"Where do you get the nerve?"
"Desperate times."
"He calls us," insisted Tessa, though her eyes darted around as she told her companion, "We don't call him."
"You make an exception."
"I can't!"
"Can't or won't?"
"Both!"
"All right, Tessa, thank you very much," a new voice interrupted, causing Tessa's eyes to widen with shock and a small amount of horror while Dean spun on the spot once more, his expression hardening as he saw another person had joined their little back-and-forth argument. Although person might be a bit of an understatement, because Dean knew who it was…what he was and, after everything he'd risked to get the guy here, he wasn't about to take no for an answer.
Not even from Death himself, who just stared blankly at Dean as he drawled, "Hello Dean."
While Dean seemed hesitant to say anything, not that he knew what he was going to say in response to the Reaper King's sudden appearance, he heard Death address him again with that cold, unyielding, apathetic tone of his, "I'm busy Dean, talk fast."
Even without raising his voice, the Pale Horseman still pulled off the fright factor, but Dean kept his nerves in check – he wasn't a hunter for nothing, after all – as he insisted, "I have something of yours…"
"You mean my ring," said Death; it wasn't a question and neither was the expression that followed it. "I recall loaning you that temporarily."
"Well if you want it back…" Dean began, but Death cut him off at the knees as he interrupted him again.
"You assume that I don't know where you've hidden it. Now we've established you have hubris but no leverage, what is it you want?" He asked, looking right at Dean with those cold, dark eyes of his, almost as though he was daring Dean to try something else, but reminding him exactly who the hell he was dealing with.
"Lucifer's cage…" Dean began, but, again, he was cut off from saying anything more; this time, however, even Death looked unnerved, if not alarmed to notice that everything around them seemed to freeze in a second. At the same time, the lights powering the Chinese store Dean had entered not a few minutes ago started to flicker into darkness while, to the horror of Tessa and Death, a thick cloud of cold air suddenly blew through the store, as well as from the mouths of Death, Dean Winchester and Tessa.
"What…what the hell?" asked Dean, but he was cut off when the lights suddenly exploded, as though a powerful spectre, if not an archangel, had walked among them. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not," said Death firmly, looking around and, for the first time since meeting the deity, Dean saw a look of fear cross his face before he moved to where Dean and Tessa were standing as he gasped, "Well, congratulations, Winchester; it…it seems you've attracted His attention as well."
"Who?" asked Dean, but before Death could respond, what could only be described as a shimmering veil of blue energy suddenly materialised in front of them, the energy's form holding what looked like a pale skull that soon became corporeal, as did the energy itself, revealing a very unusual-looking figure standing in front of them. (1)
At first, Dean thought he was looking at someone who looked even more badass than Death himself: the man, for he was a man, was dressed in a suit of black clothes that hugged his frame perfectly. Over his lower body, the stranger wore a pair of stone-grey denim jeans and Doc Marten boots. Over the top of the attire, however, he wore a long black coat that wouldn't have looked out of place on a hunter, if not a protector of some city from supernatural threats. (2)
However, it was the man's face that alarmed Dean even more; like Death, the man was pale, but instead of dark eyes, the man had black orbs that were only filled with an eerie, if not unusual set of irises. Eerie and unusual because, instead of colour and slit pupils, the man's eyes were filled with a silver image of a triangle with a circle and single, vertical line cutting through the triangle.
As he looked at the image, something about it made Dean's memories stir, though as he looked, he also heard the man address them with a soft, but uncompromising tone of voice, "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in, Dean Winchester?"
"Who the fuck are you?" asked Dean, but he was cut off from saying anything else when Tessa swiped him hard.
"He's the damn Master of Death!" snapped Tessa, earning an alarmed look from Dean that turned into one of disbelieving amusement as he looked to the dark-dressed man standing in front of him.
"Wait…you mean you're…what? Harry Potter?" asked Dean, earning a curt nod from the master before he smiled coldly.
"Actually, that's Potter-Black, but that's beside the point," said Harry, looking once to Death before he asked, "So this is the guy who has your ring, Death? Some egomaniacal, self-centred little boy with a really unhealthy relationship and sense of love for his little brother?"
"Hey!" snapped Dean, but before he could say anything else, Harry gestured with one hand, causing Dean to stiffen, his eyes as wide as saucers as he looked into the unusually-coloured and filled eyes of the Master of Death.
"Watch your tongue, boy!" snapped Harry, the symbols in his eyes glowing with fury as he insisted, "The only reason I don't take your soul myself is because you marginally amuse me, but the fact that you're here because you're selfish, jealous and unable to comprehend the idea of someone else being better than you, even when they're your own family. It'd be funny if it weren't so pathetic."
After a single moment, however, Harry smirked as he added, "Ah, what the heck, I'll laugh anyway…" (3)
Then he did so, letting out a loud, belly laugh that seemed to chill even Dean's spiritual essence to the bone, though once he was done, Harry took a breath before he added, "So, let me guess: you came here to try and convince Death to restore little Sammy's soul?"
"He…he needs it!" insisted Dean, but Harry just scoffed, making a sound like a game show buzzer as he did so.
"Nope, sorry, wrong answer, but thanks for playing," drawled Harry, lowering his hand in another gesture, which released Dean from whatever hold Harry had held over him; at the same time, Death moved away from Dean, as did Tessa, though not before Harry looked to the Pale Rider with a questionable glance.
"And to think," drawled the Master, his eyes filled with amusement as he said, "Your Reapers, including Tess here, were so hateful and against the idea of me cheating Death so many times. But they'll gladly bend over backwards to service Michael's ex-vessel and his selfish, in-the-closet desire just because someone out there actually gives a flying fuck whether this dimwit lives or dies."
"Except this time, we didn't have much choice, sir," argued Tessa, earning a shocked look from Dean when he heard a note of fear and pleading in her voice as she addressed the master. "Dean used a summoning rite…"
"After pulling a Flatliner, so he could experience walking between this world and the next," said Harry, nodding as he indicated the world around them before he added, "Well, it's a good thing I stopped time for this little tête-à-tête, otherwise Dean would really be stuck between worlds and then the only way he'd be out is the same way your Angel friend pulled Sammy out…with or without your soul."
"What?" asked Dean, earning a nod from Harry.
"It was Castiel who pulled Sam out of the Cage, though he probably didn't expect to leave his soul down there," said Harry nonchalantly, sniffing once before he added, "I guess that's what happens when you try and play above your pay grade just because you want an edge in a war you cannot win. I mean, do Castiel or Crowley have any idea what else lies waiting in Purgatory? I wouldn't be surprised to see those evil things kill Castiel just to gain a foothold in this world after using his body as a temporary vessel."
While Dean looked surprised, Harry gave a small smile as he added, "But that brings us back here, Dean: you want Sam's soul back, but do you want to know something? The Robo-Sam you know and loathe so much? I have it on good authority that he doesn't want it back. And who can blame him? He's a much better hunter than you…or even better than John…and that's your real problem, isn't it?"
As Dean frowned, Harry smiled as he went on, "You know, back when I was human, I knew someone like you: she couldn't handle anyone being better than her either, so she did everything she could to make sure we were all beneath her. But unlike that charming bit of fantasy created by the lovely Miss Rowling, my real story had a real happy ending…and not involving me marrying a double of my Mother or naming my kid after the two people who screwed me royally and probably got off on it."
Here, Harry gave a sinister smile as he added, "But that's okay: once I became what I was born to be, I soon got my revenge on all of them, even dear old Albie, who probably thought he was safe in Limbo. Ah, it gave me more pleasure in that one moment than he'd let me have in seventeen years and longer to prove him wrong, I guarantee it; even your old boss Alastair would have been proud."
"All right, that's enough!" snapped Dean, earning an amused, if not curious look from Harry as the hunter faced the master before he added, "If you're really the guy people like reading about, even more than they do Sam and I thanks to Chuck…"
"Aw, don't sound too jealous, Deano," drawled Harry, holding up a finger as he added, "And no, I won't go down there either; neither will Death or anyone else for that matter. You see, for once, I want a hero to get what he wants and, if I know Sam, even as the soulless sexy bastard he is now, I'd bet, as soon as he found out you'd done something like this, he'd make a deal to try and get out of it…which would probably mean a rogue angel like Balthazar since Gabriel's…currently unavailable and Crowley's not exactly on his Facebook Friends List."
Dean scowled, but Harry smiled again as he added, "But I'll tell you what, Deano, I like you: you're like the lovable idiot who has no idea what he really wants because he's too busy being jealous of what everyone else has, which kind of reminds me of another friend of mine, but I digress."
Here, Harry looked to Dean with a much sterner glare as he told him, "I'll make a deal with you: if you can do something, by yourself, on your own power and with only Sexy Sam and dear, sweet surrogate Daddy Bobby for support, I'll willingly go down to Hell, drag Sam's soul out and, for added reward, I'll even reform the soul so it's good as new, with no trace of what Michael and Lucifer have been doing to it…and trust me, some of their actions? It's enough to give even the Princes of Hell nightmares…and they're really scary!"
"All right," Dean agreed, earning a scoff from Harry as he looked to Tessa.
"You see? Unhealthy care that means he can't see the woods for the trees," drawled Harry, looking back to Dean before he smiled wolfishly as he added, "That had better be yes, Dean: remember, you can't cheat Death, so don't you dare think you can screw the Master of Death either."
"I said all right!" snarled Dean, earning another smile from Harry as he nodded before Dean asked, "What do you want?"
"Nothing much," said Harry, the symbols in his eyes glowing with amusement as he added, "You just have to kill me!"
Dean's eyes widened, but as he did so, Harry held up a finger as he added, "And, for your information, Winchester, the Colt barely nicks me; Angel Blades are as much use as a butt-scratcher against my power. There's no known exorcism ritual to clear me away or seal me up and not even Cain could slay me with his big bad First Blade, so you're pretty low on options."
Dean's eyes glowed with rage, but Harry wasn't done; instead, looking to Dean, he smiled as he said, "That's your challenge, Jealous Boy: find a way to kill me…and I do mean kill me, and I'll gladly restore Sammy's soul and, as a nice bonus, I'll even give you back Johnny, Mary and even poor Adam…a nice little family reunion."
"Then you'd better let me go," hissed Dean, earning a cold smile from Harry before the master shook his head.
"Don't go thinking you can cheat me, Dean," said Harry, lifting a finger as he told him, "I'll know if you ask Cass or Crowley or anyone else for help: when I say just you, Sammy and Bobby, though it'll probably be more just you and old Sit and Spin once that sexy beast of a brother of yours hears about this. Anyway, when I say just you and them, I mean it: if I get a whisper of anyone else interfering, you will know about it! And then you'll never get Sammy's soul back, which means he'll always be better than you, even at getting some tail, let alone having that delicious shoot-first, ask-questions-later attitude that makes him perfect!"
"You son of a…" Dean began, but before he could charge at Harry, the Master threw out a hand; as soon as he did so, a burst of blue energy, similar to the one that had brought Harry to the shop flew from his hand, encasing Dean in a tomb of magical fury that, when the light died down, left Harry, Tessa and Death alone in the store.
As for Dean, he was now trapped within a ball of light, which Harry held in his hand; lifting the light, Harry cocked his head to one side before he smiled coldly as he drawled, "You see? No idea what real power looks like, so he lets his mouth and his rage do the talking for him. Ron would be so proud to know he's not the only hothead in existence."
Sighing deeply, Harry looked to Death and Tessa before he drawled, "So, one bound soul, an idiot with no idea what real power looks like and an empty shell…what to do?"
Death's eyes widened, as though he'd realised what was going to happen, before he watched as Harry vanished in the same flash of light.
Not for the first time did the Pale Rider regret ever having to have anything to do with the crazy, but creative soul he now called Master.
Meeting the Master
When Bobby and Sam heard the door to Bobby's house open, they both breathed sighs of relief when they saw Dean walk back into the room.
"Thank God," said Bobby, watching as Dean removed his coat and tossed it to one side; weirdly, Bobby noticed that Dean's usual leather jacket had been abandoned for a longer, more-badass-looking trenchcoat, but he didn't say anything about it.
Instead, he looked to his surrogate son as he asked, "Where'd you go, boy? We were worried."
"You were worried," Dean corrected him, indicating Sam as he added, "Sammy here either didn't care or was just idly curious, but don't worry. I've taken care of it."
"Care of…what?" asked Sam, earning a thin smile from his elder brother as he looked to the hunter.
"Let's just say you won't have to worry about anyone trying to force that disfigured mass down your gullet, Sammy," said Dean, embracing his brother fondly before he added, "As far as I'm concerned, it can rot in hell for all eternity: you're a much better hunter now, I see that. So what do you say? Let's get out there…tell you what? Why don't I buy you a new car too? Replace the one my idiocy got wrecked because I was a right royal prick before…no strings."
"Uh…" said Sam, looking to an equally-surprised and confused Bobby for only a moment while Dean smiled again as Sam asked, "What happened to you out there? You seem…different…"
"It's a new me, Sammy," laughed Dean, though as he turned away from the two hunters, neither Sam nor Bobby saw Dean's eyes change colour;
Changing into a pair of blackened orbs with a silver insignia that many would recognise as the Deathly Hallows' symbol for the irises.
"New and improved…"
So, there we go then and, as I said, this was just a random idea that I decided because, to be honest, one thing I can't stand is Dean's ego and how jealous and doubtful he is even though it's clear Sam doesn't want to go back to being his lesser.
Plus, he wasn't willing to listen to reason – like he ever is – and just did what he thought was right, as though he's meant to be right and everyone else can go screw themselves. (Remind you of anyone?)
So, I came up with this bit of fun.
Now, as I said, call it a 'story starter' if you like, but it's just a fun one-shot I came up with;
In any case, enjoy…
AN (1)
The method Harry used to teleport in was similar to the Angel of Death from Charmed – Simon Templeman, whom, apart from Julian Richings, has to be my favourite Death in all fandoms since I'd put both of them joint-first – and, like the attire, I thought it gave a chill factor to be feared and respected;
AN (2)
Harry's attire is similar to Angel from…well, does it have to be said? I don't know why, but the badass look of his clothing just gives off the right sort of impression, so I went with that;
AN (3)
A classic line used by Mark Hamil's Joker in the Batman Beyond/Batman of the Future feature-length Return of the Joker; don't know why, but it seemed like the right way to end the tirade;