A/N I am so sorry that I didn't upload at my normal time. I was up all night Wednesday because I was thinking about whether or not I could reproduce Spiderman's web fluid, and then I started drawing up theoretical formulas and dispersement devices for the web fluid and then I heard birds chirping so... I had to stay up all day too so I crashed on Thursday without remembering to upload. I have added to the chapter to make up for it, so now instead of being about 6,000 words there are almost 10,000 words to this chapter.

On a separate note, one night at like 2 am I decided to make an image cover for this story. I am not a good painter or anything, but it's something that can represent the story. It's based off of this fanart I saw where it was Castiel's wings but almost butterfly-ish and a blue tie in the middle. I don't remember if it had an artist listed, it was like a random image on the web, so if anyone might know who did the original let me know please. This one's got a wand and knife crossed now, and a devil's trap in the back. All the symbolism will make sense in time though.

I've realized that none of my line-breaks or double-indentations have actually stayed in the formatting so I'm sorry if it's just been one big blob of writing. I'm trying to fix that, and I'll edit the previous chapters as well.

As always, unbeta-ed, sorry if I miss any errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Supernatural, or anything belonging to J.K. Rowling or Eric Kripke, I'm just using the characters for fun. I receive no money off of this story. Don't sue me.

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Chapter 8: The House Elf

Harry wanted to say her summer break was amazing. Sam and Dean visited, she had another birthday party, she and Bobby fixed up an old Mustang, and he took her hunting after her birthday. It was a simple Revenant, but it was fun to be back in the game. They finished in about three days, and were back home before the week's end.

Harry wanted to say that the summer was fantastic for all those reasons, but something was missing. She thought she had made good friends at Hogwarts. Friends who would maybe write to her, or contact her at all. But Harry hadn't received a single piece of mail the entire summer. Ron did try to call her at one point, but it didn't go as well as she thought it might have.

The ringing phone was nothing out of the ordinary as Harry sat reading one of Bobby's tomes, feet propped up on the arm of the chair in the living room. Bobby picked up the phone, Harry paying no attention to it as he answered what was probably a verification call for a hunter playing FBI agent, or a call for info on a creature. What did make her pay attention however, was Bobby yelling loudly in surprise.

"Ahh!" Harry's head swung in the direction of the phones, seeing Bobby staring at the phone he was holding about a foot away from his ear in disbelief. It became evident why such an action was necessary as Harry heard a voice blaring from the phone, even sitting several feet away. A very familiar voice.

"IS THIS HARRY'S HOUSE? IS THIS THING WORKING? HELLO?" Ron Weasley yelled through the phone.

"Crap."

"Harry, what in the hell is this about?" Bobby growled. Harry hopped up, book forgotten, and hurried over to grab the phone.

"Sorry Bobby." She directed her voice into the mouthpiece. "Ron! RON! SHUT UP!" The yelling quieted somewhat. "You don't need to yell, that's not how it works."

"HARRY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" Harry sighed.

"Ok, obviously you don't understand. Just don't call again, owls are fine. The international rates probably aren't worth it anyway." She hung up on the boy, turning to face an exasperated Bobby. "He's special."

"Idjit." She didn't get any more phone calls after that, like she had asked, but it was upsetting that no owls came either. It did get rather depressing, sitting there and thinking about all the reasons why they weren't trying to write to her.

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Harry almost shot the house-elf. She was just sitting there, assembling and disassembling a pistol, when it appeared in front of her. Naturally, her hunter instincts kicked in and she had the gun cocked and aimed in an instant, the end trained steadily on the creature before her.

"Who are you?" she questioned. The thing in front of her had wrinkly skin and large, batlike ears. The eyes were bright, tennis ball green, and it seemed to be wearing a filthy pillow case as a dress.

"Dobby, Miss. Dobby has come to warn you." Harry relaxed somewhat, the gun still held in her hand, but no longer aimed at Dobby.

"Am I correct in guessing that you are a house-elf, Dobby?" The elf nodded fervently. "What family do you serve?"

"Dobby cannot say. Dobby is not meant to be here, Miss," he whispered. Then the elf reached out for a book from one of the stacks and began to beat his forehead screaming bad Dobby.

"Dobby stop it!" Harry pulled the book from his grasp. The house-elf looked back to her, his protruding forehead red.

"Dobby only comes to warn you of terrible events taking place at Hogwarts School this year. Miss Harriet Potter must not return." Harry chuckled.

"First, just call me Harry. Second, of course I'm returning to Hogwarts. It's not really my choice anyway, Dumbledore'll do something to keep me going. I want to see my friends. Well, I thought they were my friends."

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" He asked, a mischievous look on his face.

"How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me? Dobby, what have you done?" The elf started wringing his hands.

"Dobby thought, Miss, that if Harry Potter didn't think her friends cared about her, she might not return to school." He looked up abashedly.

"I want my letters now!" Harry watched as Dobby drew out a thick bundle of letters and packages.

"Harry Potter must promise not to go to school." Harry looked at Dobby with an eyebrow raised, then sighed heavily.

"Fine, I won't go back to Hogwarts. Cross my heart." Harry did the motions with her fingers crossed behind her back. Dobby seemed satisfied, and handed her the package, then disappeared with a crack.

"Damn House-Elf," Harry muttered to herself. She tore open the parcel, and began looking through a summer's worth of letters from her friends. She grabbed a stack of notebook paper and began writing replies, apologising for her silence, because a creature was blocking her post. Not like that sounded insane or anything.

August came and with it the Winchesters. John was investigating a lead on the demon that killed his wife, and preferred to leave the boys with Bobby. He pulled up the gravel drive in the Impala, then sped out of there.

Harry rushed out of the house to greet them in the yard. Dean stood tall and toned, his blondish hair glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Sammy stood there with two duffel bags by his side. The nine year old stalked inside, dragging the bags with him. Harry walked up to Dean and gave him a hug.

"What's up Winchester?"

"Harry that sounded so lame." Harry drew out of the hug and punched his arm. He gave her a look of mock betrayal, clutching his shoulder. "Ow!" cried Dean.

Harry snorted, and suddenly they were both laughing. She calmed herself and looked at the screen door where Sam had disappeared.

"What's his problem?" Dean just sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Dad and him got into another fight. Sammy doesn't think he should be taking so many

hunts. He wants somewhere stable for a while." Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"Give him a break, it's probably hard for him to continuously be bouncing from place to place. He's never had an actual home, not one that he can remember, anyways. Not everyone can deal with the hunting life. Me, I'd love to drive around in a car from hunt to hunt, saving people, hunting things." Dean nodded.

"Sounds like a nice life."

"But we've got motivation. Sam doesn't remember what he's fighting for. Plus, it hasn't been that long since he's been brought in, it's probably still a shock." They stared at the ground for a minute, contemplating. Dean smiled suddenly, his eyes twinkling.

"Speaking of shock, should we finally reveal that 'something special' about you?" Harry looked up as well, mischief in her eyes.

"Absolutely." They ran into the house to make a plan.

Sam Winchester was not amused. No, his Dad had gone off on another hunt, searching for something that had managed to evade him for years. It was pointless. He sometimes wished that he'd just be left somewhere for longer than a few weeks. He could stay at Bobby's full time, go to school here, and his Dad could visit. It'd be better than constantly moving, switching school's being the perpetual new kid. That really sucked.

And if he and Dean stayed here, there'd be stability. He could maybe finish a year of education at one school. He could hang out with Harry.

That might be one of the most compelling reasons. Sam did not have a crush on Harry. That would just be ridiculous, right? She's three years older, incredibly smart, really pretty, and completely out of his league. No, he did not have a crush on Harry.

Maybe just a teeny one. It was for this reason that Sam was distracted when she came into the room, distracted enough to somehow not notice Dean come up behind him with a bucket of glue. He also didn't notice said bucket hovering over his head. He did notice when it was dumped on him. The bucket fell over his head and the glew spilled out, running down his body in viscous streams. Then bright pink feathers appeared and attacked him, sticking to the glue and covering his whole form, making him look like some kind of human flamingo. Then the camera went off.

"Dean!" Dean and Harry were laughing on the floor, Harry holding an old-fashioned camera. She wiped a tear from her eye, and Dean continued to clutch at his stomach. They had almost gotten a hold of themselves, but then they fell back on the floor, rolling when they saw Sam holding his hands on his hips with a pout, covered in pink feathers. Harry took another picture.

"Dean! Harry! Stop it! Where did you even get these?" Laughter. "Cut it out, guys, I mean it!" The two on the floor finally ceased in expressing their humor. They clambered up, brushing off their clothes.

"Magic." replied Harry.

"Fine. Don't tell me. But I'm going to get you back for this, I swear!" Sam stalked out of the room.

"How long do you think it will take for him to figure it out?" Dean asked, staring after him.

"At most, when I hang up the moving pictures of him. God, he's like gay Bigbird." Dean snickered, and they started laughing all over again. It was a good day.

The next morning, Dean woke up with his eyebrows gone. Harry snorted pancake up her nose when she saw him walk into the kitchen, yawning, and eyebrowless. He didn't realise what was wrong until he caught his reflection in the window, and stormed out to find Sam. Sam was in fact, hiding just outside the door. Harry locked him out.

Then Harry slapped herself in the face with shaving cream while she was asleep. Everything went to hell after that. Sam walked around slightly pink and very sticky after a kool aid powder shower. Dean tried to listen to a Led Zeppelin cassette, but Heat of the Moment by Asia blasted throughout the house instead. Harry woke up from a nap the next day with a face painted green and fake warts glued to her nose. Dean somehow had his skin stained green and couldn't change out of the black dress, witch hat, and ruby slippers he was wearing. Sam grew more and more confused with each of Harry's pranks, including when he tossed and turned all night in bed, feeling uncomfortable like there was a sharp lump sticking out of the bed. When he went to investigate, he pulled the mattress up, and saw a single pea sitting on the boxspring. Something wasn't adding up for him. Bobby tried to stay out of their way as much as possible, not wishing to be caught in the crossfires of their prank war. He'd hear random yells and shouts of surprise throughout the day.

Sam finally realised something supernatural was taking place when he ate the dessert he and Dean watched Harry make, trying to be sure that she hadn't changed their food in any way. He opened his mouth to ask Bobby a question, and all that came out was a squeaking sound. Alarmed, he sprang back from the table and fell out of his chair. When he tried to curse, only high pitched chattering made its way out of his mouth. Dean and Bobby tried to laugh and tease him, but froze when they could only squeak as well. Three identical looks of horror and indignity were turned upon Harry, who was laughing and taking a photo at the same time.

After the effects wore off, Harry sat Sam down at the table to explain.

"What was that?" He asked. Dean and Harry shared a look, before turning back to Sam.

"Magic."

"Right. And you just waved a magic wand and made me sound like freaking Gus Gus, huh?"

"Well, no, it was a type of magic candy that I mixed into your food. I don't like using a wand, anyway." Sam's jaw fell open.

"You're a witch? What the heck!" He pushed his chair back again. "You made a deal with a demon! Why would anyone do that? When did you do that? You're only twelve!" Sam started pacing, rambling about the consequences of magic, before Harry cut him off.

"Sammy, shut up! First of all, I am not some demon's bitch-"

"Language," remarked Bobby without looking up from his book.

" -and it's a little insulting that you'd think that. Second, my age doesn't mean anything. I was hunting before you could read. Third, just sit down so me and Dean can explain." Harry saw Sam open his mouth as his eyes turned to Dean. "And don't start arguing with your brother, we'll explain." Sam sat down and crossed his arm, looking at them sullenly.

"Okay, first off, I am a natural born witch. I've had my magic since I was born, I didn't make any deals to receive it. I go to a magical school during the year, Hogwarts, remember? And let me tell you, it's ridiculous what's going on in the wizarding community. Yes, there are more of us," she explained, cutting him off before he could ask. "There are a lot of us in Britain, probably because of the Salem Witch Trials over here. Not a lot of people were really keen to stay behind after that, although ironically there is a large community in New York."

"How come you have magic then, if the other witches and wizards live in England?" He interrupted.

"Because," she rolled her eyes, "I was born in England."

"What!"

"Where did you think I got the accent?" She asked, giving Sam an incredulous look. He stared at the floor, muttering sheepishly.

"Well, you can't hear it all that much, so I always thought you were joking or something. Or impersonating characters."

"Wow. Now hush. I was born there, in England, and when I was born apparently there was this super bad wizard, like Lord of The Rings Sauron bad. He was killing people who had magic, but their parents didn't. My parents fought on the light side, trying to stop him. He went after them for some reason, and killed them, then tried to kill me. He didn't, obviously, and that somehow broke him. Voldemort, that's his name, is believed to be dead by a large portion of the wizarding population, and I'm famous for supposedly killing him. So, orphaned and alone, I was dropped off to live with my Aunt and Uncle by this asshole named Albus Dumbledore. The next couple years weren't great."

Sam noticed Dean put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I was in the woods when a Wendigo caught up with me. At the time I had no idea what it was, but I wanted it dead and I was freezing and scared and somehow I started a fire with the Wendigo as wood. Then I blinked and found myself in a field in Georgia. So I'm a British-born hunter witch. Quite an impressive title, don't ya think?" Harry gave a bitter chuckle. Sam knew she was leaving something out. He didn't push, though.

"So that's me being a witch. There's something else I need to tell both of you." Dean sat up straighter and Bobby put down his book to pay more attention. The four of them sat around the table, the three boys looking at Harry expectantly. "Bobby already knows. So I guess it starts with Hogwarts. The headmaster is Dumbledore, and he decided it was a good idea to hide the Sorcerer's Stone inside the school. With minimal protections. He's either completely insane, or impossibly manipulative. I'd say both. Anyway, one of the teachers was there and he was working for Voldemort. First, on Halloween, he let a troll into the school. It almost murdered my friend Hermione, but I jumped on its back and shoved my knife up its nose." Harry continued, oblivious to the stares of incredulity from Sam and Dean, while Bobby chuckled appreciatively.

"That same night he tried to go to the third floor where a cerberus was standing guard over the trapdoor leading to the stone. Another professor, Snape, stopped him. He's another dick but I'm pretty sure Dumbledore's got something keeping him loyal. Some kind of blackmail or something. There has to be a reason he hasn't killed me yet, especially with how I aced his class despite his efforts.

"The groundskeeper decided to adopt a dragon, and apparently the guy who gave him the egg was Quirrell in disguise, and that's how he found out how to get past Fluffy. Fluffy's the cerberus, by the way. Then me and two friends had to make our way past the dog and other traps to get to the stone. They had to go back, and I confronted Quirrell. Who literally had Voldemort on the back of his head. Like a face. It was hilarious.

"I then sassed the Dark Lord, as Bobby puts it. He was so worried about magical methods of attack, he didn't do a thing when I stabbed Quirrell in the back. The guy smoked out of Quirrell like a demon, tried to steal the stone from me, and left when he realised he couldn't do anything.

"I did some stuff to cover up the cause of Quirrell's death, duplicated the stone, and knocked myself out to avoid suspicion. Needless to say, it worked. Dumbledork believed that I was able to defeat Flat Stanley through the power of love, using the protection enforced by my Aunt. Pfft. Then he stole my candy. Seriously, stole my jellybeans. Prick. So that was my first year at Hogwarts, whaddya think?"

"Harry?" Harry turned to look at Dean. "You're awesome." Harry smiled and they all began to laugh. She seemed to be doing a lot of laughing lately.

"Does this mean a truce to the prank war?" Sam asked. Dean and Harry's eyes met. They simultaneously looked back to Sam.

"Yes," they announced together.

"But, I might have one last thing. See, magic is a wonderful thing, and it allows me to do things like this." She pulled a stack of photos from her enlarged pocket and waved them at the boys. They both cringed, and Bobby let out a loud chuckle.

"Idjits," he commented. Spread on the table were photos of Sam and Dean and a couple of Harry, all detailing the pranks they played over the course of the week. One depicted Sam as pink Bigbird pouting and shaking his head at them. Another had Dean as the wicked witch with his middle finger sticking up at Harry and silent cursing. Harry had developed one of her with warts and grease paint covering her face.

"Don't bother trying to destroy them, I've made copies." Dean and Sam glared at her, but she just looked back smugly.

"We get these then. They grabbed the pics of Harry and ran away. She cursed and jumped up after them, chasing them outside and through the cars. When she caught them they didn't have the photos, and she glared at them while they smiled innocently.

A week and a half passed before John came to pick up Sam and Dean. Harry forced him to stay for lunch when she magicked the keys to his Impala away. He frowned but complied, unsure just what she could do to get him to stay. They joked and laughed around the table, the five of them. Harry told John about Dean's performance of the Wicked Witch, and showed him photos, giving him wallet sizes of his favorites. Nonmoving, in case it was lost or stolen.

Harry had forced him to stay for at least two hours, eat and relax, because she had a feeling that he hadn't taken a load off in a while. His laugh sounded way too out of practice. Harry felt bad for John, and even though she didn't agree with forcing his children to hop from town to town and stay in crappy motels, she thought he needed to take a break. John Winchester was a good guy with bad breaks.

The peace didn't last, and Sam and John had an argument, and John took his sons to the next hunt. Harry was sorry to see them go, especially as the next year would be rough on her.

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At the same time the Winchesters left for the next hunt, Rufus showed up and dragged Bobby away to another one of his cases after giving Harry the same suspicious look he always did.

"Bobby! I need you to help me on this skinwalker hunt!" Rufus barged in through the front door.

"Hey Rufus," Harry greeted from her place in front of the stove, gently waving her finger in a circle as the spoon spun the soup in the saucepan. The man jumped backwards, pulling out a knife from somewhere in the folds of clothing he wore. Harry raised an eyebrow at him, and he narrowed his eyes before edging sideways out of the kitchen to find Bobby. Harry said goodbye to them, smirking at Bobby's half hearted grumbling on the way out. She promised not to go looking for trouble, and he followed a still wary Rufus out the door to his truck with a duffel slung over his shoulder.

Harry kept her promise. She didn't go looking for trouble. The thing was, trouble is really good at finding Harry.

The next day Harry walked into town to pick up some supplies. She had used up most of the raw ingredients left in Bobby's fridge with the soup yesterday, and she had been working with the two vegetables and lemon juice that existed in the bottom drawer hidden amongst the beer and empty space. She had found most of what she wanted in the small market, making sure to dodge the group of gossiping women blocking the juice aisle, when something odd popped up in her peripherals. One of the women she had just avoided was drifting towards the bakery section with an odd glint in her eyes.

"Evelyn?" A middle aged brunette asked. "Are you alright?" The women, Evelyn apparently, kept moving forward at the same zombie-like pace. Harry moved closer, peering around a shelf of canned vegetables to watch.

"I'm hungry," The woman muttered absently. She reached for an iced cookie when a hand came out of nowhere and slapped it out of her grasp.

"No, Evelyn! I thought you were on that diet? You can't eat any sugar!" The brunette yelled.

"I'm hungry," Evelyn repeated. Harry's head tilted of its own accord when she heard the blankness of the woman's voice, and she watched as the woman grabbed the cookie again, lifting it to her mouth and starting to eat like she hadn't in weeks.

"Evelyn-" The brunette grabbed Evelyn and pulled her away from the bakery stand. Evelyn apparently didn't like that very much because the next thing Harry knew, she was jumping out of the way of a soccer mom flying into the shelf she had just been watching from behind. Harry ran up to check the woman's pulse, finding it there but thready.

Harry turned to watch Evelyn again, a hand resting on the knife hidden under her shirt, watching the woman literally frothing at the mouth as she stuffed her face with the various baked goods.

"What the hell?" The other woman screamed, running towards the exit, the fallen blonde crawling after them at a slower pace. Harry waited a few minutes by her basket, trying to decide how best to approach the situation, when Evelyn stopped suddenly and fell to the ground. Harry rushed forward, hand gripping the knife as she approached the woman.

"Are you alright?" The woman made no response, and Harry crouched down and pulled at her shoulder, turning Evelyn on her back. The woman was completely still, apart from the slow breathing coming from her sugar-glazed nose. "What…?" She replaced her knife in the sheath hidden under her shirt, moving closer. She grabbed a baguette, poking Evelyn in the side with it, gaining no reaction.

"Move aside!" Harry jumped backwards as a couple police officers barged into the store. She walked back to her basket full of groceries, observing the officers check the woman and yell for medical. Harry glanced around and saw that the checkout was being closed due to the incident.

"Well damn." Harry dropped her basket and walked out of the store, ducking under the barrier holding back the crowd.

The next day Harry was reading the paper at breakfast, and the headline made her choke on her tea. 'Local Woman Falls Into Sugar Coma'. Harry rushed to read the story.

Yesterday at Dan's Supermarket, a local woman (unnamed)

attacked another patron of the store and ravaged the baked foods

aisle. She ate 3 tins of muffins, a box of brownies, and almost an

entire pie before collapsing on the ground. Officials say they arrived on

the scene to find her unresponsive, and upon further tests at the

hospital, she was found to be in a coma. There was no reported cause

for the coma, and the only thing out of the ordinary reported on by the

doctors was an abnormally high blood sugar level. The patron attacked

was also moved to the hospital, where it was confirmed that she had

sustained no lasting physical injury despite other reports. The official

Police statements and some eyewitness accounts can be found on page 3.

Harry read the accounts, and closed the paper in thought. Something didn't seem right to her. She let out a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling as if to ask 'Why?'. Bobby had said not to go looking for trouble, but she hadn't, really, so she decided that it was perfectly alright for her to look into the case. But, just to be safe, Harry vowed to be finished before Bobby got home.

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Harry thought the first step would be to go see the woman at the hospital, and look for any family members or friends who could help clear things up. She grabbed some flowers from the field outside and stuck them in a vase she had found in a dusty cabinet in the kitchen. At the hospital, she introduced herself as Jane Grey, here to deliver flowers for the patients in the longtime care ward. The security guard waved her through with a glance at her fake ID. Bobby said that she was too young to be anything connected with the FBI or another official organization, so whenever he took her on hunts she would pose as a delivery girl or a lost kid.

Harry walked through the coma ward wondering which room to look in. She stopped a passing nurse to ask.

"Excuse me, miss, but I'm supposed to deliver these to one of the patients. Only, when they gave me the slip of paper it only says 'Evelyn' and I don't have a last name or a room number. The client said she'd just gotten admitted?"

"Oh, I'm not supposed to give out patient information. I'm sorry." The nurse started to move away and Harry grabbed her hand.

"Wait, please! It's my first week on the job and my dad was so proud that I managed to get one, and I really really don't want to mess anything up. Can you please make an exception just this once?" Harry blinked up at the nurse, watching as she melted in resignation.

"Alright. There's an Evelyn Masters in room 306, she just came in yesterday. Good luck with your delivery."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Harry skipped off in the direction the nurse had gestured to, careful not to let the water spill out of the vase. She found the door quickly, opening it slowly and slipping into the room. There were a few of the ladies from yesterday sitting in a circle around the bed. They stopped talking and looked up to see Harry.

"Who are you?" One of them asked.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Jane. I'm here to deliver these flowers from… well actually it says anonymous. Don't mind me, I'm just supposed to arrange them and set up the care kit."

"Well alright then." The woman turned back to the group, which paid no attention to Harry from then on. "Can you believe she's getting flowers? After what she's done?"

"Martha, the doctors said that Evelyn might not even know what happened. It's not her fault that Tory got hurt," said a short woman with a brown bob.

"Well, it's not just that. This is karma, I'm telling you," Martha insisted.

"What do you mean?" This time it was the lady sitting across from where Harry was arranging the petals. Harry decided to call her Flowers, on account of the horrible blouse she was wearing, adorned with hundreds of flowers.

"Well, she broke her diet didn't she," Martha started. "And it's not just that, she was a hypocrite about it."

"How's that?" asked Flowers.

"Well," Martha leaned forward, "You know how she has all those cats? And how they always seem so small as if they never grow out of being kittens?'

"Yes," Bob-cut said. "She's always bragging about how cute they are.

"They really are very cute," muttered Flowers.

"There's a reason for that! She only fed them once every couple days when they were kittens, and now she feeds them every other day to keep their weight down. I pet-sat for her once, and she had all of these instructions on how they should be fed and caged. She even wrote that if they managed to grab extra food or one of the other's food to hit them with this paddle she had on the wall from college."

"Well that's terrible!" flowers exclaimed.

"And that's what I mean about karma. She starved her cats so they could look how she wanted, and then she went and broke her diet like a hypocrite, and she lands here in the hospital." The ladies fell silent in contemplation, and Harry managed to slip out of the room unnoticed.

She walked to the library to make use of its archives. After setting up a workspace at one of the desks, Harry moved to collect the newspapers for the past couple weeks.

After an hour or so of research through the newspaper issues, Harry found a couple more incidences of weird things happening. There was a gardener who was famous in the town for great work whether summer or winter with all the snow. He also had several complaints about being overworked and underpaid from his employees, with him having their contracts force them to work several hours in any condition without break, and if they refused they could be fired with no severance. He was admitted to the hospital because of severe dehydration and mirage hallucinations a week ago. He claimed that whenever he tried to get a drink, it would dry up before he could touch it. Then there was the bartender that had a reputation for proividing alcohol to the underaged, leading to a couple cases of alcohol poisoning. He'd never been officially caught or charged, but he was found in the alley behind the bar he worked at with blood alcohol poisoning. He had to be taken to the hospital for a stomach pumping, which would have worked except the doctors said that whenever they managed to finish, his BAC would increase again. He's still in the hospital, getting hourly stomach pumpings, and the doctors are baffled as to how it's happening.

There were a few more cases that Harry thought could have fit in with the pattern that emerged on the paper in front of her, but this along with the unnatural vehemence of the prank wars between her and the Winchester's last week sealed her suspicions that there was a trickster in Sioux Falls.

Harry figured that the trickster had to establish themselves in the town so as to collect their information. She took the cases in front of her and wrote down a list of all the commonalities, bringing in her suspected victims if they fit the pattern. Harry left the library after replacing the copies of the newspapers. She walked across the street to the city hall and moved to the public archives, where businesses were required to file certain papers for public record.

Harry slipped into the file room, moving towards the business records aisle, pulling out Gardener's of Eden's service records. The gardening service had no contact with Evelyn or the bartender, and Evelyn was on a diet that included no alcohol. Harry almost gave up on a direct connection between the victims when she saw that the gardener's service had worked on the residence of a Martha Stalwart. Remembering the name of the gossiping woman from the hospital, Harry looked into the connection further, and found that every Thursday the service could be found at Stalwart's home. She replaced the records and left. It was a Thursday.

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The Stalwart house seemed normal. Nothing exciting would jump out to an onlooker, nothing out of the ordinary than perhaps the winking garden gnome figurine sitting in between twin bushes producing blue petals. Harry was bored within the first 5 minutes of her stakeout, as there was nothing interesting to see apart from the gardeners working at pruning the shrubs and pushing a lawnmower with the most detached expression Harry had ever seen. She huffed, scolding herself for not remembering to pee before she started the stakeout. Before she could finish her debate about whether a bathroom break would ruin anything, she heard loud screeching from the house. Harry almost jumped up to race across the street and dash in heroically, but she remembered to do her reconnaissance first, something drilled into her by Bobby.

A glance through the binoculars at her side stayed her hand, her adrenaline falling at the sight of a group of women...laughing? They held wine glasses and appeared to giggle behind their hands. Harry saw Flowers and Bob-cut sitting in a circle with Martha Stalwart and the woman who was attacked at the supermarket, Tory apparently. She slipped out from the bushes and jogged down the road, circling back in between the fenced yards so she could crouch between the gardenias just under the window.

"-exactly what I said, Tory! She acted with absolutely no decency, and now she's in a sugar coma! It's ironically hilarious."

"Martha, sometimes the universe just works out problems on its own," responded a new voice.

"But Tory, aren't you mad that she won't be charged for assaulting you?" Flowers wondered.

"No, she only pushed me after all. I barely felt it." Harry quirked her eyebrow at that. Tory had flown back at least five feet and hit a shelf. Harry had wagered at least one or two cracked ribs.

"Tory! You went flying! You should've seen it from our perspective, it was like you had the life knocked out of you."

"I'm sure it looked worse than it was. Now let's stop talking about things we can't change. Does anyone have any good stories for this week?" Harry rose up a little bit to get a good glance at the table. She saw Martha, Flowers, and Bob-cut. There was the fourth woman sitting adjacent to the window. She had wavy honey-brown hair and whiskey colored eyes. A smirk pulled at the woman's face, and Harry ducked as her head began to move.

"Well I heard that Dan's cheating on Jessica again," Flowers offered.

"Again?" laughed Tory.

"Yes. Apparently their marriage was one of convenience, especially when little Jeremy came along. Jessica can't afford to leave him either, so she stays and bears the rumors." Harry wrinkled her nose.

"This town has a lot more drama than I thought it would," Tory said.

"Every town has its share, some just manage it better than others. Speaking of, how have you done adjusting to life here? It's been a month now right?" Harry's head shot up, and she narrowly avoided hitting it on the windowsill.

"Yes, thank you. It's been difficult but this group has helped." Harry didn't hear the rest of the conversation as she tried to creep away as silently as she could. Once she was a couple yards away, she let out a deep breath.

It was most likely that the trickster was masquerading as Tory. The more Harry thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. She had come into town about a month ago, right around the time that the "accidents" started happening. If she had joined the group that liked to gossip all the time, she would be able to pick up on prime candidates for her tricks. Maybe they had discussed the bartender one week, and maybe Martha wasn't the only one that Evelyn asked to pet-sit. And if they usually gathered on Thursdays, sooner or latest she would have noticed the head gardener's treatment of his employees. And all of the incidences had happened on a Tuesday or a Wednesday, presumably before the next meeting. Harry rushed home to find the weapons she needed to fight the creature.

After finding Bobby's stash of more exotic weapons in a box in the closet, Harry armed herself with two large stakes and a couple of sharper pencils stuck in her belt. She made her way over to the address she had found on a record of sale to a Tory Baker in the public archives. Hiding in the bushes again, Harry focused her binoculars on the driveway. Finding that empty, she looked through the windows. Harry sent out a pulse to detect people in the house, something Hermione had shown to her in one of the advanced books hse had read through. The house was empty, so Harry darted across the lawn, resting her palm over the lock of the house and willing the gears to shift so that she could enter.

As the door swung open, Harry slipped into the house. After shutting the door gently, Harry moved to the living room, taking note of the blank walls. There were no personal items around, and the only thing that marred the blankness of the house were the candy wrappers strewn about across the kitchen and living room. Harry grabbed a chocolate bar from the stack on the counter, peeling the wrapper off and sitting down in the darkened corner of the living room to wait.

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.

About an hour or so later, Harry had eaten three chocolate bars and she was still waiting for the trickster. On her way to get up and grab a fourth, she heard an engine rumbling, and quickly sat down as a car pulled into the driveway. She could hear the door slam and waited for the door to open. A couple minutes later, there was still no sound, so she peered around the corner to look at the door. It was still shut, standing unmoved from its position when she had closed it. Moving back into her spot, Harry froze as a light clicked on and she was left to star into the trickster's eyes.

"Hiya."

"...Sup," Harry returned, watching as the trickster stuck a lollipop into their mouth.

"Well, today I saw that there was this kid watching me and my friends from the window, and I thought 'that's not very polite'." And then, later when I come home, that same kid is sitting on my floor after having eaten my candy. So, what's up with you?" The trickster was still staring at her with that amused expression, which sort of unnerved Harry. She slowly got up and crossed the room to sit in the second armchair that had appeared with a wave of the trickster's hand.

"Well, I was just doing my shopping when I saw a woman get backhanded across the room by a sugar zombie, and then to make things worse they closed the checkout so I couldn't get my food anyway."

"Ah. That sucks."

Harry pulled out one of the stakes from her thigh holster, a minor notice-me-not spell placed on it. The trickster stiffened in her seat.

"You're a hunter?"

"Well, that depends on who you ask. I say I am, Bobby says I'm in training. Well, mostly he says I'm an idjit. Rufus just thinks that I'm not to be trusted so I don't really know his opinion beyond that."

"Well, I don't think you'll be able to stop me, whatever you are."

"I wouldn't bet on it." Harry flicked her wrist and the stake soared across the room, only to stop right above the trickster's heart when Tory held up a hand.

"Interesting. I haven't seen a natural born in a while. But, then again, the British aren't exactly happy with me right now so…"

"Are you wearing a glamour?" Harry asked suddenly. There was something off about Tory's face.

"Why, little witch, good instincts!" Tory waved her other hand containing the lollipop. Her face and body shimmered, revealing a cocky looking male with the same hair and eyes. "Hello."

"You know, I'd be creeped out, but I'm a bit more impressed by your spellwork. Were you holding that glamour all this time? Unconsciously?"

"It's not everyday I get complimented by a hunter."

"Well at least I can tell Bobby that a trickster thinks I'm a hunter." Harry looked back at the trickster. "Actually, better not. What's your name?"

"Loki."

"Really?" She laughed. "Oh, that's awesome! My friends Fred and George practically worship you, I think they have a portable altar and everything."

"The Weasley's? Oh, my best worshippers. Although, they tend to offer me prank products when I'd prefer some sweets. And what's your name, witchy? Not another Weasley, of course, you don't have the hair for it."

"Harry Potter." Loki stared at her appraisingly.

"Really?" He mirrored her. "Well that makes things more interesting. Nice to make your acquaintance.

"Same here."

"Oh, so you aren't going to try to kill me now? Of course, you'd have trouble without your ammo here." He disintegrated the stake. Harry waved her hand and the other stake went flying and speared itself deep into the wall next to his head. He took another lick at his lollipop. "Touche."

"Nah. To be honest, I was kind of debating trying to kill you at first anyway. I don't necessarily disagree with your work. You just can't be here when Bobby gets back, or he's gonna go for it and I don't think he has the temperament to go after a trickster. Plus, he'll think it's me doing everything at first. He knows how bored I've been."

"So a deal then. I get out of your town, and you don't try to kill me."

"I'd be okay with that. Do stay in touch though, you've got some good ideas," Harry teased.

"You flatter me," Loki deadpanned. With a wave of his hand, Harry was standing outside of the house with a chocolate bar in hand. She walked up to the window to see an empty house, no furniture, candy, or Loki. She shrugged and walked into the shadows behind the house to apparate back to Bobby's, deciding that Bobby didn't have to know about her little adventure.

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The next week Harry left to go to Diagon Alley alone, wanting to maintain the facade that she still lived with the Dursleys, to meet the Weasleys and Hermione. She left a little early to look over some things at Borgin and Burkes, wearing a perception filter bracelet that she'd finally managed to make with a strong notice-me-not charm and using the fake name of Jane Smith.

And that was how she found herself hiding in a broken vanishing cabinet. She'd been looking through at the Hand of Glory when Draco Malfoy walked through the door. She switched off her filter, smiling and ready to deliver some sort of witty greeting. Before she could say anything, his eyes widened and he waved her away.

"Hide!" He hissed. Harry reached for the door of the cabinet behind her and slipped inside right as Lucius Malfoy pushed inside the shop. She watched as he tried to sell some artifacts, then left Borgin cursing him. Harry slipped out, filter once again secure, and walked back through Knockturn Alley to find the Weasleys, wondering why Malfoy was so adamant that she hide. She saw Hagrid, and wondered why he was there. Then she saw the slug repellent in his hand.

Harry came out of Knockturn Alley and disabled her bracelet. Almost immediately she was attacked by a bushy brown mane.

"Hermione!"

"Harry! How was your summer? Have you done all your homework? I've been working on mine all summer and I've done four feet for mcgonagall, even though she only asked four fourteen inches. Are you here with the Weasley's? I'm to meet them."

"Hermione, slow down," Harry gasped, holding up placating hands. "I've done my homework, and I'm here on my own but we're supposed to meet up with Ron. Where is he?" Harry muttered the last bit, searching the crowd. She spotted the top of red hair, and dragged Hermione through the mass of people to stop in front of Ron Weasley.

"Ron!"

"Hey Harry, Hermione." They all hugged and he pulled them to the shop where his parents were standing waiting.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley. I didn't get a chance to thank you for my Christmas gifts last year. I love the sweater."

"Oh, you're welcome dear. Now, I want you all back here in two hours, we're getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts books signed by the author! Off you go." She hustled them away, and the trio was pushed back into the street while Mr. Weasley talked with the Grangers about the function of a rubber duck.

"Ron, why was your sister staring at me like that?" She asked. Ginny had been staring at her in a mixture of awe and hope, but hid behind her mother the whole time.

"Oh, she's been talking about you all summer. I'm pretty sure she wants to be your best friend."

"So she has a squish on Harry." Both Harry and Ron turned to Hermione.

"What?"

"A squish. It's like having an intense crush, but with friendship."

"She might just have a crush," muttered Ron. The trio shrugged and headed off to the shops. They got parchment and quills and all the supplies they would need for school. Hermione watched as Harry and Ron pillaged the Diagon Alley branch of Zonkos. They had ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, courtesy of Harry. Then they headed off to Flourish and Blotts, where a man in blue wizard's robes sporting the most perfect smile Harry had ever seen was signing books. It actually sparkled.

"Mum loves him. Gilderoy Lockhart. Personally, I think he's a useless pretty boy-"

"Ronald! Don't talk about him like that." Exclaimed Hermione.

"Why not, Mione. Got a crush on old Gilderoy?" Harry teased.

"No. It's just, he's done a lot for the Wizarding World. I mean, he wrote half the book list."

"He doesn't look like he's ever worked a day in his life. But I guess I shouldn't judge a book by its cover, right?" Hermione harrumphed at them, and strode into the crowded shop with her nose held in the air. Harry and Ron chuckled before following her inside.

The line leading up to Gilderoy Lockhart was crowded and aggressive. They fought their way towards Mrs. Weasley, who was carrying a stack of books. Harry tried to ignore Ginny's doe eyes while Ron swore from being stepped on by a photographer.

"Move out of the way, boy!" he yelled, then bustled up front to photograph the smiling Lockhart. Lockhart caught sight of the dispute, and his eyes widened comically when they fell on Harry.

"Can it be," he said, holding his hand to the side dramatically. "Harriet Potter?" The photographer's head swiveled with the rest of the line, and Harry was regretting not enabling her bracelet as she was dragged to the front by the pushy man. "Smile nice and wide, Harriet, together we're worth the front page," he muttered out of the side of his mouth. Harry gave him an indignant look just as the flash went off and blinded her. Books were shoved into her arms while she couldn't see, and she stumbled a bit under the weight of the unseen.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart began. "Young Harriet stepped in here today to buy my autobiography, Magical Me, but she will be getting much more than that. Yes, first, my entire works, free of charge." Another flash went off, and Harry felt like they were purposefully deploying flash grenades to keep her off balance. Her hunter instincts wanted her to duck and roll, sprinting out of the shop. But she just gritted her teeth and almost dropped the stack in her arms at Lockhart's next announcement. "I have also been called upon this year to do the honor of teaching at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher!" The camera went off several times and cheers could be heard over the tumultuous clapping. Harry did decipher one "Bloody Hell" that sounded like Ron. She was shunted off the stage. Harry dropped her books into Ginny's cauldron.

"I can buy my own." Harry wasn't going to buy any. Lockhart seemed too obsessed with publicity to be a legitimate teacher. She could just read from Hermione's or Owl Order if it came to it.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter. Famous Harry Potter, can't even go to a bookstore without making the first page." Harry looked up to see Draco Malfoy drawling from the staircase.

"Leave her alone!" shouted Ginny.

"Look Potter! You've got yourself a girlfriend." Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair, and Harry sighed.

"Jealous, Malfoy?" the corner of his mouth twitched down, but it disappeared as a cane came down on Draco's shoulder.

"Now, Draco, mustn't make a scene." Lucius Malfoy turned to Harry and looked down his nose at her. "Miss Potter, I don't believe we've met. Lucius Malfoy." He held out a gloved hand and Harry took it, shaking quickly and let go. She had to at least appear cordial.

Mr. Weasley sidled up to his son, about to ask him a question when he caught sight of the elder Malfoy. His face turned cold and stonelike.

"Lucius."

"Arthur. However did you afford all this? I didn't know they gave you a raise." He picked up one of Ginny's schoolbooks, a tattered second hand copy of the Standard Book of Spells Grade One. "Apparently not." Mr. Weasley's ears turned red, his fists clenched and shaking. Malfoy looked around and spotted the Granger's. "Hanging around with filth like this I can see why not. How does it feel to be a disgrace to the name of wizardry?"

"We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of a wizard," retorted Mr. Weasley through clenched teeth.

"Although," remarked Malfoy, "With the amount of food your wife can afford, I'm sure you'll ma-" Malfoy was cut off as Mr. Weasley flying tackled him. Mrs. Weasley shouted no, while Fred and George yelled for their father to get him. Harry started cheering and she saw Draco torn between looking angry that his father was being attacked, and shocked that he wasn't doing that well. She brought the camera out of her pocket and took a picture in the chaos. Slipping it back inside sneakily, she thought she had a pretty good christmas gift for Draco now.

"Break it up, gents, break it up." Hagrid came lumbering through the door and pulled the two men apart. Malfoy had a split lip, and Mr. Weasley didn't look much better. Harry gave Mr. Weasley a thumbs up behind Mrs. Weasley's back, and she saw a smile tug at his mouth.

"You're Dad is awesome, Ron."

"Thanks Harry." Harry sent a discreet stinging hex at Malfoy, one that would build throughout the day until he figured out what was happening. She waved her hand and a note appeared inside Draco's clutch. She saw him discreetly tuck it inside his pocket for later, though a wary expression was directed towards her.

Harry spent the rest of the day with the Weasley's, and gently declined their offer to stay with them, claiming she had to get back to her relatives.

Harry apparated back to Bobby's once she was alone, pulling her bags out of her pockets. "I'm home!"

Bobby walked into the room, an eyebrow raised at the stuff being dumped on his living room floor. "Clean that up, idjit."

"I will, just cleaning out my pockets. What the-?" she pulled on something smooth feeling in her pocket, and she was staring at the Sorcerer's Stone. "Oops."

"What do ya mean 'oops'? What's that?" Groused Bobby.

"Remember how I told you that I duplicated the Sorcerer's Stone to keep the real one safe? Well-"

"No. Don't tell me. You're an idjit, just fix it." Bobby walked out of the room as Harry gave a weak chuckle. She had meant to write to the Flamels as soon as school got out. She'd just had other things on her mind. She did try and use it to make some more gold for Bobby and the Winchesters, but she couldn't figure out how to use it, and she certainly wasn't going to go to anyone for help. She blushed as she remembered her attempts.

.

.

Harry gripped the stone in her hand, staring at it intensely. "Gold." Nothing happened. She shifted her grip, holding it with both hands and glaring at the blood red stone. "Gold!" The stone blinked in the light, remaining still and without gold flowing out of it. Harry sighed, setting it down on the counter before pacing around the room.

"Okay, that doesn't work. Maybe I have to be really direct, channel the power of nature, what?" Harry suddenly marched over to the stone, grabbed it, and walked outside. Determined to try and channel more power from the earth, Harry climbed onto an old rusted out car, moving into a stable stance. She thrust her hands holding the stone into the sky, looking up.

"I command you, give me GOLD!" Harry waited in anticipation, feeling a rumble going through the car she stood on. Excitedly she raised it higher. "It's alive! IT'S ALIVE!" The rumbling stopped and Harry looked down at Bobby stepping out of his tow truck right next to the car she was standing on.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry's eyes went wide, and she jumped down.

"Nothing," she muttered as she fled back inside, stuffing the stone into her pockets.

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.

Harry put a locating spell on the stone, tracing it back to its owners. She apparated along with the pull on the stone, and landed in a garden in front of a small white cottage. Ivy and roses hung from a lattice leaned against an archway, and the metal was overgrown with flowers and leaves. The four windows were adorned with planters overflowing with greens and bursts of other shades of the rainbow. Harry pushed the gate open and approached the house, knocking on the door with the knocker twice. A man with salt and pepper hair opened the door. He had an angular face, with bright blue eyes, which looked so much older than his appearance of fifty.

"Nicolas Flamel?" Harry asked?

"Yes. What can I do for you?" Harry thought it was rather strange that he didn't ask 'How did you find me?' or 'Who are you?' He had an almost Ollivander-ish vibe, but more relaxed and less obsessed over the word 'curious'.

"My name is Susan Foreman," she answered, wanting to go unknown. She had her bracelet activated as well. "Can I come in, I have an important matter to speak to you and your wife about."

He waved her inside, eyeing her warily. Harry scurried inside as the door shut, and followed him to a sitting room where a blonde woman was sipping tea.

"Nicolas, what is it?"

"She is here to speak to us. Something important, but I do not know what. I don't believe she is a threat." Harry understood their whole conversation, even though they were speaking in Greek. Nicolas turned to her and made a motion for her to start.

"Right, well, I'm part of a group that knows what took place at Hogwarts School a couple months ago. I understand that your stone was being kept safe by Albus Dumbledore?"

"He was supposed to, yes." Nicolas nodded at his wife's words.

"Well, I must tell you that instead of keeping it somewhere safe and secure, somewhere that no one would think to look, he designed a series of traps and tests for a person to get through to protect your stone. And I also must say that he announced where the first obstacle was at the beginning of the school year, while Lord Voldemort was hidden in the school. Also, three first years managed to make it past the obstacles in less than a couple hours." The Flamel's looked taken aback at this information. "I take it Dumbledore never told you of this?"

"He said he was keeping it under the strongest enchantments in the bellows of the castle where no one could hope to find it," explained Nicolas Flamel, his tone harsh and angry.

"Well, he lied. Did he also tell you that he destroyed the stone after someone rescued it?"

"Albus mentioned that the risks of the stone falling into the wrong hands were too great, that it had to be destroyed."

"Well, that was a half lie. Yes Voldemort tried to get the stone and almost succeeded. But he didn't and he wouldn't have even been able to try if Dumbledore hadn't set it up as a game. It's a good thing I already knew he was a manipulative bastard. Pardon my language," she said with a sigh. Perenelle Flamel snorted.

"I managed to make sure Dumbledore had the wrong stone, and it was that which he destroyed." Hary drew the actual stone out of her pocket. "I believe this is yours." The Flamels stared at the blood red stone in Harry's palm. Then to the girl. Then back to the stone. Then back to her again. "Yah that's kind of freaking me out," she mentioned. Their eyes landed on her, and they jumped up and shook her hand, thanking her profusely.

"Yah, don't mention it. But, I have a condition." They turned frosty again.

"You want to use the stone." It was a statement, not a question. Harry thought it was ridiculous.

"No!" she burst out, laughing. "Trust me, I have enough to worry about without becoming immortal." Plus she had already tried to use it for Bobby, but it hadn't worked. "I just want you to put it under a fidelius, and make sure no one knows that it is still in existence. Especially not Albus Dumbledore."

"It is a deal." Nicolas grasped her hand.

"Oh! And no telling anyone I was here either. So, good luck with being immortal I guess. See ya." Harry strolled out the door and apparated while the Flamels stood shocked upon the threshold. Nicolas leaned over to Perenelle.

"I thought we had an anti-disapparition ward up," he mumbled.

"We do."

"Huh."

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Sakura Lisel: That is a good point, and the answer is I did not think of it because I have been calling her Harry in my head. There is also the fact that I've been writing the characters as calling her Harry or Harriet based upon which name I think they would have used. Like Ron would totally use Harry but Dumbledore and Ollivander would definitely use the longer version. I have tried to fix that in this chapter, so thanks for pointing that out.

MagicalCatgirl68: Dobby is going to be like he was in the books, with the same penchant for well-meaning bloodlust. I love him, so I'm not going to give him an early death. That would be cruel and unusual punishment, and I'm not that experience of an author yet. And yes, recommendations are cool, thanks.

Guest: I am attempting to build that sort of reputation for Harry. It just amuses me to think of a bar full of hunters telling stories about their hunts, and they'll mention that "There was this kid-" and everyone going "You saw her too?" It's just a random scene that I'm going to have to include eventually.