Wizards and Demons Don't Mix

Chapter 14
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It had been a couple of weeks since the brothers at last came out of time loop. Sam had at last managed to understand who the culprit was, despite Harry pestering him at every turn, finding new innovative and heart wrenching ways to kill Dean. He had confronted the Trickster, who they thought that they had killed already, with a rather sharp object convincing him that it was in his best interest to put an end to his game.

When he had woken up with things being different, with it finally being Wednesday, he had thought about summing the demon to give him a piece of his mind, including a few gallons of holy water, some buckets of salt and a few well placed bullets, but he had thought better of it, deciding that he would be perfectly happy if he never had to see the green eyed bastard again.

With this in mind, it is obvious to say that when said demon popped into existence next to them as they were sitting on some benches by the edge of a lake a bottle of beer each in their hands, taking a short moment to relax after their latest job, Sam was not happy. One moment he had been perfectly content. He had a bottle of beer that could be called cold if you were generous, comfortable silence lay between him and Dean and he had an expense of water to gaze mindlessly at as the sun slowly set in the distance. And then there was a crack, and his field of vision was taken up by demon masquerading as man.

"Time to pay up," the demon said glibly, giving them an insincere smile.

"What?" Dean barked, somehow already having a gun in his hand, cocked and aimed.

"I like how you think, Dean-o, but I don't think this is the best spot to present my corpse on. It's too pretty." He frowned in an exaggerated display of disgust.

"What?" Dean repeated and Harry made a derisive sound with his tongue, clicking it and shaking his head.

"You want help with staging your death?" Sam asked to confirm his suspicions.

"Got it in one. I guess you made it clear once and for all who the brains in this operation is, not that I didn't already know, but a certain Tuesday I seem to recall made me doubt my own conclusion."

Sam growled low in the back of his throat, he did not appreciate being reminded of that episode. He was far from over it, and if he thought he might get away with it he would have followed his brother example and had a gun pointing at the demon.

"So, I suppose you want to hear what I have planned, yes?"

"It's not like we have any choice."

"Too right about that, if you don't hold up your end of the deal I am forced to actually drag you downstairs, and as much as I enjoy the scenery; the flames are quite fetching and the smell simply makes every breath an indescribable pleasure, however I don't think you would say the same. Anyhow, a bit of enthusiasm would be appreciated. Just think about it. It's really a win-win situation for you. Neither of you have to visit the pit for the moment being and you get a shot at killing me and bragging about it. Doesn't it sound like splendid fun?"

"I only dislike one thing about it," Dean grumbled, "the fact that you won't actually be dead."

The demon shrugged. "Well, you can't have everything. So the people I want to trick are getting annoyingly close to catching me. I can't have that. I want all ties broken, and that means that they have to believe me dead, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

"So I figured that once they summon me next I'll let you know, and you'll summon me in turn, overruling their spell."

"How will we managed that?"

"I'll give you a stronger spell obviously, though it's a one time ting so don't go around getting your knickers in a twist thinking that you'll be able to pull that one again to rid yourself of me. We'll wait long enough for them to follow; I figure that they have reached the point where they'll be able to do that, and to be on the safe side I'll leave a trace they simply can't miss. Once they show up you use the colt. I play dead. They buy it and everyone goes home in time for dinner."

"That might be a problem," Sam said after sharing a slightly panicked look with his brother.

"Which part?" Harry asked darkly.

"The Colt part," Dean informed him unflappably.

"Why exactly is that a problem?"

"We don't have the Colt."

Harry smiled a smile that was sugary sweet and absolutely terrifying. His eyes had turned completely green. "What do you mean, you don't have the Colt? How in all the fiery pits of Hell do you go about loosing the Colt?" he roared his question and dark clouds were gathering en mass at the horizon blocking out the light of the setting sun.

"There was this girl," Dean tried to begin, still unflappable.

"You allowed a girl to get the better of you? I should open your head and see if there is a brain in there, because I think it's a medical miracle that you can do anything without one and before I publish anything in any journals I should get evidence." Harry raised his hand, and Dean rose with it, held by the throat. "Who. Was. She?"

"Bela Talbot," Sam answered, worried about Dean and keen to see his brother free of the Demon's grip. He cringed a little as he was suspected the full glare of the of the Demon.

"You will be getting it back," Harry said, clenching his hand into a fist. Dean's throat was squeezed and then he fell to the ground. "You will not rest until you have it again."

"What the fuck do you think we've been doing?" Dean screamed back, voice horse as he massaged his throat.

"Being idiots, that's what I'm accusing you of. Can you honestly say that the shoe doesn't fit?" As Dean silently fumed, getting back up on the bench, Harry gave them a cocky, unconcerned grin. "I thought so. I am beginning to think that I've chosen the wrong allies in this war. But fine. I'll win it myself the way I had planned on from the start. I don't really need you." Harry took a deep breath and calmed down visibly. The clouds receded and the tension that had crackled in the air like electricity abated at the same time as the green of his eyes receded until it was contained in the iris. "I'll see about getting the Colt back for you. We need that blasted thing to open the gate once Dean's gone to Hell, and since that is their plan I need to screw with it. I might be able to replicate the effects of the gun with a bit of effort, but the exact from of the thing? Close enough to make it work like a key… no. I didn't get the chance to study it long enough to be able to pull that one off."

He sighed and made a show of pulling a beer bottle out of thin air, snapping the capsule of and taking a long drag. "Change of plans I suppose. A replica of the Colt won't fool these folks I need to get rid of."

"Why don't you simply kill them?" Dean asked. "Not that I think you should kill anyone, unless they are demons. It's just that it doesn't seem like you to hesitate about killing someone."

"It's none of your business, Winchester. Shut the fuck up and listen to the plan."

-Viridi Oculis Daemonium-

Harry was vaguely enjoying himself. The Winchesters would be ready whenever he called them, he had made sure of it. All he had to do was wait for his former friends back in England to make their move. They had managed to summon him two times before he demanded Sam to pay for the deal he'd made for Dean's life. He thought that he would be able to get away again one more time, but after that Hermione would likely have figured out how to actually trap him and that could not be allowed. Who knew what else she might be able to figure out given enough time and initiative. It was a scary thought and not something he was willing to risk happening. If she got her wish his days wrecking havoc and generally not caring about inflicting suffering and pain would be over before he managed to rattle off Dumbledore's many names and titles. Or well, it might take a bit longer, but that was the gist of it.

Harry was staking out a town where there had been a lot of demon activity lately, getting ready to confront the ones responsible and give them the customary choice: join me or die, when he felt himself being summoned. He idly noted that he was right and they were getting better at it. He wouldn't have been able to ignore the summons even if he had wanted to, but he could stall long enough to sneak a mobile out of an innocent passer-by's pocket and send a text to Sam, whose current number he had made sure to know. He composed his message: Get ready for the show. It's time to pretend like you're actually a couple of competent hunters. Don't mess this up. You know what happens if you do.

There was no need to sign it. They would know it was from him, if they didn't, well then he might actually deserve to be saved by Hermione and Co.

The beautiful thing about the deal he had with Sam was that he had gotten insurance of it, which he had made sure that the Winchester brothers knew before he left them the other day. They were admittedly smart enough to be able to tell that it would be in their advantage if the people he wanted to think him dead got to him, and to make sure that they weren't tempted to double cross him he had transferred the deal to Crowley. If the Winchesters failed in helping him out, Sam would be dragged to hell with or without Harry being there to escort him. It wasn't as if he had given them Crowley's name, but they knew that the contract was held by another demon now.

The text was sent and Harry allowed the magic to pull at him, not bothering to give the mobile back, because why would he? The feeling of the spell dragging him across the world was seriously unpleasant and it made him glad that this would be the last time he would ever have to deal with wizard magic. He was more or less immune to it having been a wizard before becoming a demon, but the pure deal still didn't correspond with his demon nature and made him feel itchy and slightly nauseous.

He appeared silently, and as he landed on the ground he hissed as an onslaught of pure magic tried to invade his body, packing a hard punch. He should have known. They had brought him to Hogwarts. All the ambient magic around them was working on repelling him, or rather his demonic nature, and at the same time there was a ward, holding him and it trapped. It was not a normal demon trap, it was a bit different, he noted as he looked down on the pattern drawn in black paint on the stone floor.

He looked up and saw that there were more people gathered there then what there had been the last time they had summoned him. Four days before it had only been Ron and Hermione. Now Andromeda, had joined them. That wasn't very surprising. The two other additions however were. Neville Longbottom and Luna Scamander, formally Lovegood. At least Ginny wasn't there. Thank, eh – God might not be appropriate here, but whatever – for small mercies.

"Hello," he said blandly, smiling. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"Harry, we want to help you," Hermione said, point-blank.

"Help me? Nuh-uh. That would imply that you would be willing to pop around the world recruiting demons for me so that I can win a war and continue doing whatever I feel like, and that's not what you want. You want to reverse the clock, back, back, back. Tock-tick, tock-tick. But I do believe that such magic is far beyond you. You need to be someone with a lot of juice to pull that off and changing things is still tricky. I am never going to be the little boy you knew. I don't want to be him. He was weak, and pathetic and frankly miserable."

Hermione glared at him, the skin around her eyes more wrinkled then it had used to be when Harry was just Harry. "We have to try," she said. "We owe it to the man you used to be, because he would say something different than you are know. And we owe it to ourselves, because it is the right thing to do and no one should have to pay the price you did."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Well, to each their own I suppose. I'm all for freedom or religion, but did you really have to drag the whole gang into this?"

"We wanted to help," Neville said, levelly. Harry had to admit that Neville had grown up well. He didn't care much about such things really, not now, but Neville might actually be an adequate opponent. It would take more than a simple hand wave to rid the world of him and that was a huge compliment.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said, as dreamy as ever.

"Luna," he said. "Do you also believe that you can cure me?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "You don't need to be cured. You are needed as you are."

"Huh." Well wasn't that nice to hear. "So why did you join up."

"There are a couple of people I would like to speak to and meeting you will give me that opportunity."

"Right." He might have found Luna strange before, and that hadn't exactly changed, but he had. He knew that there was much more to the world than the wizards were aware of, and Luna might just be better connected to it than most people. "That's nice. Oh." He let out a small gasp as he felt another spell tugging at him. It seems as if Sam and Dean actually were able to do something right. It hurt a bit, but he was torn away, and the pain was absolutely worth the expressions of incredulity that passed over the witches and wizards faces. Round one, won. Now for the next part.

End Chapter 14

AN 3rd July 2014

There we go. The plot is moving on. This has been planned for quite some time. Hopefully the next part will come out as I want it too. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!