Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. This story is also based on characters and situations created and owned by the writers, producers, et al of the television show 'Supernatural'. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, internet persona, or other being, living or dead, is completely coincidental and unintentional unless otherwise noted.
A/N: This is the epilogue of 'Once is Happenstance'. Part two will be named 'Twice is Circumstance', so keep an eye out for it.
Once is Happenstance
4:20
am, July 22, 2007
Room 13, Sleep-Right Motel
Knoxville, Iowa
Harry was staring at the spotty beige ceiling above his rented bed, unable to sleep despite the lingering tiredness from the encounter with the naga. I owe the Winchesters my life. A bloody life-debt. Just how the hell does one pay a life-debt? He rolled over and pounded his pillow. It's not like I'm likely to see them again. Merlin, this bites.
Giving up on sleep, Harry got out of bed. Glancing at the bedside clock, he dug into his saddlebag and retrieved the remains of his cellular phone. The sim-card hadn't been harmed when the phone shattered after being dropped twenty stories. He pocketed the card, slipped on his boots, and grabbed his helmet. An hour later, he was back at the motel, his newly acquired cell phone charging, the sim-card changed out. This is what, the ninth phone this year? Maybe I should just give in and get one in padded foam, like the ones I saw those construction workers using in Colorado. Luckily, his sim-card fit most of the models of TracFones sold. After it had charged some, he called Leanne and thanked her for the help she'd given in getting the naga carcass disposed of and to let her know his phone was back in working order. She also managed to answer his most pressing question before telling him off for waking her after a long night.
Armed with the knowledge of the address he needed, he apparated to a dark alley in downtown Chicago. It had been a long time since he'd needed to talk to a Gringotts representative in person, but the wizarding bank hadn't changed all that much. It was a shock, the first time he'd gone to a Gringotts branch after arriving in the US, to realize that all Gringotts branches were built on the same floor plan, but he quickly got used to it. His business at the bank finished relatively quickly, he checked his watch and found that it was coming up on six in the morning. He stopped at a donut shop and purchased coffee and a box of Chicago's finest double-glazed before apparating back to the motel.
He kept the coffee under a warming charm until the thin walls of the motel told him that his neighbors were beginning to stir. Grabbing the donuts and the two large cups of coffee, he walked to room fourteen and kicked at the door in lieu of knocking. "Hey, mates! I got breakfast!"
A bleary-eyed Sam opened the door and seized one of the coffee cups. "Jesus, Harry, don't you sleep?"
"Not if I can help it," he replied, stepping into the room.
"Are those donuts I smell?" Dean's voice was a little muffled by his pillow.
"Yeah, they are. Straight from the best donut store in the greater Chicago area."
A mostly-asleep Dean stumbled out of bed and Harry handed him the other cup of coffee. "Dude… Coffee, too? Thanks."
Sam was still dressed in the track pants and t-shirt he used for pajamas, and Dean had apparently fallen asleep still in his jeans. Harry decided to let the brothers wake up a little before springing his thank-you gift on them. When they began trading quips and snarking, Harry figured they were awake enough to listen to him. "Hey, would you two stop bickering for a bit, please?"
"Whacha need?" Dean asked around a mouthful of donut.
"If you had a hundred dollars, and someone asked you for one dollar, would you begrudge that person the money?"
Dean shook his head, "No, but if that's your way of saying you need a loan, you're talking to the wrong people."
Harry chuckled, "No, I'm not asking for a loan. Just listen for a minute, yeah? Say you're walking down a busy street in the middle of a city and you get shoved into traffic and a bum manages to save your life, would you give the bum a dollar, even if he didn't ask for it?"
"Hell, if that happened, I'd take the guy out for a steak dinner."
Sam looked thoughtful, "What's this all about, Harry?"
"I'm just trying to get you two to see things from my perspective is all," he replied, reaching into his jacket's inner pocket and pulling out a parchment envelope. "I know you don't really understand it, but I owe you a life-debt. It's a tricky bit of magic – and yes, I know you two aren't mages, but the magic involved is older than my wand-stuff, more along the lines of salt than shrinking charms. It will stay there until I can repay in kind, but I still don't like the idea of being in anyone's debt."
"A point would be nice to have right about now," Dean interrupted.
"I'm getting to that." Harry handed Sam the parchment envelope. "Look, my father's family was a very old wizarding line, and well… Just take it. I don't really want it, and I never asked for it."
Confused, Sam ripped open the envelope and removed a parchment letter and two golden credit cards. One had his name on it, and the other – which he noticed had an identical number – had Dean's. Their real names. On something bearing a Visa logo. It was surreal. Then Sam's eyes read the parchment and it went from surreal to downright scary in a matter of moments. Unable to talk, he handed Dean the second card with the letter.
"I know nothing short of my saving your life in return will ever erase the life-debt, but this is a step in the right direction," Harry said. "I remember all those IDs and credit cards in Dean's wallet from the other night – sorry about invading the personal space, but I was trying to find out who you were – and last night when I was trying to figure out a way to repay you I realized that Hunting isn't exactly a paying job and it brought to mind all those cards with different names on them and I figured that this would be a good place to start and I hope you're not mad at me for it, but please take it anyway –"
All while Harry was babbling, Dean read the letter. His breath hitched a little at the line Balance of Account. "This number," Dean interrupted the babbling Harry was doing, "it's a typo, right?"
Harry looked over Dean's shoulder, "No. That's the right number. Why?"
Sam recalled the number on the parchment. "This isn't a joke, is it?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I owe you my life. I can't just ignore that."
"And your little story about the bum and a C-note? This is one percent of your money, isn't it?"
Harry nodded, "Yeah… I'd've given you more, but my bank thought it would have been… how'd they call it? Can't remember the word, but they thought it would have been over the top."
Dean actually had to sit down when he realized that Harry didn't realize that the numbers he dealt with in money were so far above and beyond the Winchesters' experience that it was ludicrous. "I suppose we can burn those old cards, can't we?"
"It would probably be a good idea," Harry said, enjoying the fact that the brothers were going to accept his gift. "Now, your account is set up along the same lines as the accounts that get set up for squibs, so if you need to deal with taking a larger amount of cash out than you can get at an ATM, you'll need to talk to Gringotts' muggle partners – in the US, it's Wells Fargo."
Harry spent most of the morning helping Dean and Sam realize that it was really the least he could do – it was only money, after all. When it came up on noon, however, Harry gave his cell number to them. "If you need anything – and I mean anything – don't hesitate to give me a call."
"We will," Sam assured him.
After Harry had packed up his room and roared off on his motorcycle, Sam shook his head in amusement. "You know, Dean, if this is the kind of payback we get after a lifetime of bad luck, I'm almost happy we've had the lives we did."
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
"It makes me wonder, though…"
"What?"
"If he's got all that money, how come he lives the life of a Hunter?"
"Well, it's not like he has to work, now is it?" Dean was pretty sure he understood the why, though. It was the same reason he asked his next question, "So, where to next? I got a voicemail last night from Jo, she's having some problems with a zombie in Michigan."
Sam nodded, "Michigan it is, then." Sam and Dean set to packing up their own room. "You know, I hope we see Harry again sometime. I kinda liked him; he reminded me a lot of you."
Dean looked up from where he was stuffing a wad of dirty socks into his duffle and chuckled. "Funny – I thought he was more like you."
Finite Incantatem
A/N2: And that's the end of 'Once is Happenstance'. If part two of this story cooperates, it should begin to be posted in about a week. Thanks ever so much for everyone who has read this story, even if they didn't review, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed. You guys rock!
Reviews are definitely appreciated, but flames are used to roast marshmallows.