Author's Note: This chapter gave me such a hard time you have no idea. But I have returned! From the void of RL, writer's block, no internet, unruly muses, and NaNoWriMo; I have returned with a completed chapter! I hope everyone still reading enjoys this chapter.

Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural or Harry Potter.

Chapter 6: The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide Is Press Coverage-

Applause, applause, no wait wait

Dear studio audience, I've an announcement to make:

It seems the artists these days are not who you think

So we'll pick back up on that on another page

And I believe this may call for a proper introduction, and well

Don't you see, I'm the narrator and this is just the prologue

-Panic! At the Disco

Harry looked around curiously as she dismounted her bike, she seemed to be in some sort of college town. She wondered what had drawn Dean and Sam- and so by extension her- here, however investigations could wait until she found a motel, preferably a step up from where the Winchesters would be staying in order to avoid them realizing she was in the same town.

She clenched her fists around her helmet in frustration that it was even necessary to avoid them- to be dependent on a combination of tracking charms to keep up with their location, but given how they had last parted, it would not be in her best interests to run into them again. Hopefully, they would come around, she missed travelling with them, missed the camaraderie. 'Are you sure that's the only thing you're missing?' that little voice in her head whispered, but she ignored it, instead walking into the corner-store to see if there was a map or leaflet for the area that would tell her where she could find a halfway decent motel.

A few hours later found her putting some last minute touches on her disguise, because while she may be many things, sloppy was not one of them- and being recognized by the wonder twins while at the bar after putting in all the effort to follow them incognito would be unforgivably sloppy.

She'd gone with a medium length dark brunette wig, and a pair of blue contacts which tended to create some really fantastic shades of teal when combined with her natural eye color. She'd used a few spells to alter her face shape slightly, softening her jaw line and smoothing out some of the angles of her face, along with adding a slight crook to her nose. She'd learned a long time ago that a few well chosen, subtle changes went a long way, and tended to be much easier to work around than a more in depth disguise.

She was also toning down her usual style a bit, using a softer charcoal eyeshadow, and only lining her top lid, along with choosing a lighter purple lipstick instead of her usual deep tones. She enforced the softer feel by pairing her dark wash jeans with a slightly shimmery teal draped tank-top and a pair of strappy silver heels.

She took one last look in the mirror, making sure most of her scars were completely hidden by a concealing cream, before grabbing her wallet and room key off the nightstand, shrugging into her leather jacket, and heading out the door- choosing to walk to the bar rather than risk her baby being recognized.

Once she's made it inside, she meanders her way to the bar, keeping an ear on the conversations around her, storing useful seeming tidbits away for later use. Taking a seat at a stool slightly to one side, she flags down the bartender for a drink. Pulling out her current ID and the matching credit card for one Gracelyn Westley, she orders a beer.

She takes a sip, relaxing into her seat and allowing a lazy smile to curl at her lips as she scopes out the bar for a promising target, she's here for information, yes, but she has no intentions of leaving alone tonight.

She tilts her head in interest when she catches a snippet of conversation from a table a little to the right of her seat, one of the ones set up by the pool tables to sit drinks and phones and cigarette cartons on, or lean the pool sticks against.

"I'm just saying, it's horrible how it happened and all, but I'm not sad he's gone. He was creepy," a blonde is saying, sipping at some sort of mixed drink, as she waits for her turn.

"Sadie, that's an awful thing to say!" the short haired brunette next to her slurs, giggling as she leans against the the boy chalking up his pool stick.

The boy who had been shooting finally finishes his turn, making his way back to the table and grabbing his beer as he suggests, "That is a pretty harsh comment Sadie," then turning to the other boy, "Cam, your go."

"All I'm saying is he was creepy," Sadie shrugs, finishing off her glass and grabbing her pool stick as 'Cam' fails to make his shot.

"Seemed alright to me, for a teacher at least," Cam shrugged. The other boy nodded his head in agreement.

Sadie scoffed, as she set up her next shot, managing to make a pretty impressive shot that missed the 8 ball by a hair. "Easy enough for you to say, you're not girls. Besides, haven't you heard any of the rumors?" She asks as she examines the table to determine what her next move would be.

"What rumors?" the currently unnamed boy asks with a tilt to his head.

Sadie takes her shot, missing the corner pocket by a hair before answering as the giggly brunette stumbles her way over for her turn, "Well, word in some of the girls dorms is that he'll bump up your grade by a letter. If…" she trails off as the boys lean in.

"If what?" Cam finally asks. The brunette plops into his lap at that moment, announcing, "If you're willing to trade sexual favors of course."

"Chandler!" Cam exclaims, shocked at her bluntness.

"What? It's true, the older girls make it a point to warn the newbies not to be alone in the office with him if they can help it," the girl now identified as Chandler slurs, gesturing at Sadie.

The boys both turn disbelieving expressions to her as she nods.

"Wow, that's messed up," the stocky unidentified boy says, shaking his head as he chalks his pool stick.

Harry decides to make her entrance as Sadie picks up her drink before frowning upon realizing it's empty.

"Talking about the dead Professor?" she asks, sidling her way over to stand by the pretty blonde.

The group turns to look at her in confusion for a moment, the boy actually stopping mid-shot.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that was completely rude of me," she exclaims, "I came over to ask the pretty lady here," she gestures to Sadie, "if I could buy her a drink, and caught the end of your conversation. I'm Grace by the way."

Sadie immediately blushes and starts to stammer, "I-I I'm sorry but, ummm, I'm not- I don't-"

The still unnamed boy makes his way over, slinging an arm around the blonde's shoulder, "She would love to let you buy her a drink," in a loudly whispered aside he tells Sadie, "Sadie. When a pretty girl asks to buy you a drink, you say yes."

The poor girl goes completely red, whisper-shouting "Daniel!"

Harry smiles, "Sadie, huh? It suits you, princess. But don't worry, I'm not going to push you into anything you're not comfortable with. I'll be perfectly happy to simply make conversation with a beautiful girl," she gives Sadie an admiring look, not heated enough to make the blonde uncomfortable, but enough to demonstrate her interest. If she wasn't mistaken, and she rarely was, Sadie was not nearly as uninterested as she thought she was, or as she'd like to seem. Harry couldn't resist the slight smirk curling the edges of her lips. While she meant what she said about not pushing her into anything she was uncomfortable with- she liked her partners willing and interested- she was not above persuading the girl into the idea of experimenting.

"Oooh, I like her," Chandler says, leaning back into Cam, who wraps his arm around her.

Daniel rolls his eyes, as Sadie seems to become shy, "Grace, yes?"

Harry nods.

"Right, I'm Daniel, the lovebirds over there are Chandler and Cameron, and as you've already gathered the speechless wonder here is Sadie. While we wait for her to regain the power of coherent thought, you're welcome to join in our game- Chandler is drunk enough that she's not really accomplishing much," "Hey!" "or you can just sit and hang with us until Sadie can take you up on that drink offer. To answer your earlier question, we were indeed talking about Professor Johnson. Were you taking his class?"

"No," she shakes her head, "I had considered signing up for it, but then I had a run in with the Professor," she closes her eyes with a grimace, "The way he looked at me, well… I decided that I didn't need to take Ethics and Morality this semester after all. Still, what happened to him," she shakes her head again, taking a gamble that the Professor was the one that the table with too many pitchers had been discussing.

"Yeah, falling out a window can't be a good way to go," Cameron says, taking a swig of his beer.

"Falling?" Sadie scoffs, re-entering the conversation, "He jumped. If you ask me I think his wife must have caught wind of his affairs and he panicked. Anyways, let's talk about something else."

Daniel shrugs, turning to Harry, "What are you majoring in?"

Harry adopts a sheepish expression, "Haven't really settled on a major to be honest. I'm actually looking into doing a personalized degree, but I'm still working through the details. It's a lot more complicated than it would be to just pick a major, but nothing has really spoken to me yet," she shrugs. "So what about you guys?" she addresses the table as a whole, but her attention is unmistakably directed at Sadie.

Several hours later, and Harry had managed to actually buy Sadie a drink. Daniel and Sadie had joined her at the bar after Cam escorted a stumbling Chandler out, saying that he was going to get her home before she passed out.

The conversation was flowing pretty well between the three of them, Sadie seeming to become more comfortable the longer they talked, drinks mostly ignored on the bartop. Eventually however, Daniel stood, saying he was headed out. He pulled Sadie aside briefly before he left, though Harry didn't try and listen in this time, checking her phone to see that it was 15 minutes past 1 in the morning. The bar would only be open about 45 minutes or so more then.

As Sadie made her way back to the barstool next to her, Harry sensed someone entering the bar- someone with powerful magic. The chaotic, wild magic made the hair on her arms stand up. However, she saw no need to confront the owner of the magic unless given cause, so she went back to her conversation, absently tracking the magic as it moved through the room.

"So, Princess," she leans closer, her hand coming to rest on the other girl's thigh, "I know I said I wouldn't push you into anything, and that still stands, however," her thumb begins to move slowly back and forth as her voice gains a huskier edge, "I figured I should make sure you're aware of all of your options." She watches as Sadie's eyes dilate, the girl's breath catching as Harry's other hand comes up to brush some of that blonde hair away from her face, however Sadie makes no move to stop her, so she continues.

"You could tell me to stop, and we can go back to just talking and forget this ever happened. Or…" she trails off for a moment, watching as Sadie swayed further into her space. "Or we could get out of here," her hand creeps a little further up the girl's thigh, "and I could help you find out if you might not be interested in women after all. I have a hotel room nearby. 100% strings free. No expectations. Anytime you decide you want out, we stop. And in the morning we go our separate ways."

She leans in further still, only inches separating their faces now. "What do you say princess? Up for a night of expectation free experimentation?"

"I-I," Sadie starts before swallowing and beginning to close the last of the distance on her own, eyes never breaking contact with Harry's own as she nervously licks her lips.

"Well what do we have here?" A loud voice suddenly interrupts.

Sadie startles like a nervous deer, eyes wide as she looks around before stuttering, "I-I I have to go," and bolting.

Harry sighs, before turning to face the interruption- of course the owner of the wild magic wouldn't just ignore her, why did she expect anything different, "Well thanks for that mate," she gripes a small scowl on her face as she takes him in, a hint of her original accent slipping into her voice.

He was short. That was the first thing that she noticed. Granted, having travelled with Big and Bigger for the last however the hell long, she was sure her perception of normal heights was skewed, but even if it wasn't, she thought he would still seem short (admittedly, she was fairly tall herself). He stood a few centimetres shorter than her own height of 175 cm, taking the heels into account. His hair was fairly messy- she thought it might be some shade of brown, but the lighting was too dim to tell for sure. His face was set in a cocky smirk, and his presence of personality more than made up the height difference now that she was paying attention. It was his eyes that caught her attention however, they were a strange shifting shade- somewhere between gold and amber. But as unusual as the color was, it was the depth of emotion behind them that made them so captivating, this was someone who felt things deeply. However, despite the wealth of emotions behind his eyes, it was impossible for her to read or name any of them.

"Well which one are you then?" she asks, recognizing the flavor unique to Pagan Magic, as she activated the limited Mage Sight available to her. Her Sensing ability was much stronger, but using the two in conjunction tended to give her the most accurate and complete picture. The flavor was too strong to mark him as simply blessed by a God/Goddess, and the strength of the Magic marked him as a Major God. She couldn't narrow down a Pantheon, as she didn't have enough experience with any of them to identify them by their Magic.

He looks at her for a moment before grinning, "Now that would be telling," he answers with a smirk, turning to lean against the bartop.

She shrugs, letting it go for now.

"So what is one of your kind doing here, in the middle of one of the most mundane cities in the world?" He asks curiously.

"Well I was attempting to find some company for the night. Unfortunately," she shoots a glare his way, "Somebody felt the need to scare her off."

"Sweetheart, I do hope you realise that she was straight."

She snorts, "She certainly wouldn't have been tonight."

She lurked in the shadows of the auditorium, watching the confrontation under her invisibility cloak, her aura masked as best she could. She gave the boys props for the fake argument, that had been a good plan, and bringing in Singer an even better one. It was not, however, enough to give them the upper hand it would seem. She watched a masked man attack Sam and Singer with a chainsaw as the two gorgeous lingerie clad illusion-women attacked Dean. She wondered if Dean was as distracted by the two during their fight as she was watching because… Damn.

The Pagan God she'd met the other night, now revealed as a Trickster God which shortened the list of possibilities considerably, seemed to be really enjoying watching the hunters fight for their lives… But there was something… She couldn't quite put her finger on it… She did, however, notice that both the Chainsaw man and the women had passed up the opportunity to actually kill their targets several times now, as each time she had been prepared to step in and save the idiots' lives.

The fight eventually came to a head as the women threw Dean, who landed in the seats near where the Trickster was observing the fights. He started clapping, announcing, "Nice toss, ladies! Nice show!" as he slowly stood.

She went tense, nearly all her attention now turned to where he was approaching Dean chanting, "Dean... Dean, Dean, Dean," she noticed again that something that had struck her as off earlier- something… not quite right- he didn't feel, alive. Her mind began racing as soon as the thought formed. Since gathering the Hallows she had noticed that living things gave off this… feeling of sorts. It was hard to describe exactly what it was she was feeling, just that all living things had it to different degrees- it was weaker in those close to death she had noticed, and that was not the only thing she had begun 'sensing' after collecting the Hallows.

Regardless, the Trickster in front of her did not give off the same feeling of alive that he had given off when she had spoken to him in the bar. In fact, she realized, he was giving off a feeling much more akin to that of the Chainsaw man and the conjured women, except much more strongly saturated with magic.

"I did not want to have to do this," the Trickster said, shaking his head, but she was no longer paying attention to what she was almost certain now was a projection. She was expanding her senses out, still trying to keep her presence masked, attempting to pinpoint his actual location if she could. It was not an easy task. The room had been saturated in magic prior to this confrontation- maybe to help disguise what exactly was happening here from the outside. However she was determined.

"Me neither," Dean's voice, and there!

Glancing at the Winchester she noticed that he had stabbed a stake through the projection, which must have been what caused the slip she had noticed. Taking a look around the room she watched the other projections disappear, while the now stabbed 'Trickster' stayed.

Sam and Bobby approached Dean and the body, both looking a little worse for wear. None of them were seriously injured as far as she could tell.

"You guys okay?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam answered, giving an uncertain look to the body.

"Well, I gotta say… he had style," and a shoulder clasp was Dean's rough attempt to comfort his brother. Harry rolled her eyes, but had to acknowledge the point. Besides, this had been a very well done plan- assuming the wonder twins didn't stumble into a clue Scooby Doo style. She wondered how many times the trickster god had pulled off a similar con, how many hunters were out there thinking they'd 'done their duty' and killed him while he was off continuing his work.

Eventually Singer reminded the boys that it would be a bad idea to be found near a dead body, and the three made their exit. She stayed put, waiting.

She'd give him points for caution, she decided almost an hour later. It was getting dark out, and she could feel the tracker on the Winchesters moving further away like an itch she couldn't scratch- but she stayed. Why, she wasn't sure. It wasn't like she was here to finish the job- she didn't go for tricksters that kept to their normal victimology, and everything she'd seen said this one did. Besides- she didn't feel like drawing the wrath of a pantheon by taking out a Pagan God that wasn't considered rogue. There was just something keeping her here, telling her to stay just a bit longer; and she had never been one to ignore her instincts.

A few moments later and her patience paid off. The Trickster suddenly faded into view where she had picked up on his presence earlier, before walking over to his 'body' and unwrapping a chocolate bar. He stared at it in silence for a few moments before it shimmered and disappeared.

She removed the cloak and stopped masking her presence so strongly as he went to take a bite of his candy with a smile. A smile that instantly became more of a smirk as he stiffened for half a moment before relaxing again.

She walked down the aisle, slowly clapping. "Well played. Very nicely done," she drawled as he slowly turned to face her.

"Well, I am the best after all," he said with a wink. "Here to finish what those chuckleheads started?" he asked with a grand-gesture at himself and a tilted head, his voice inviting her to share in the joke. Feeling out if she was a hunter-traitor or not, she supposed. Which… well… she was- but she wasn't, so she figured she could just let him sweat that one out himself.

"Hmmmm… that an invitation to try my strength? Intriguing, however I'm not really in the mood for challenging Pagan Gods at the moment, you could try again next week if you really want a fight I suppose," she drawls leaning her hip against the chair next to her.

"I like to consider myself more of a lover than a fighter, but color me intrigued. That was some impressive concealing magic, if that's an indication of what you're capable of, then we may have to find ourselves an arena next week and make like Gladiators."

She gave an artful shudder, "Gladiators? How… appropriately barbaric. I suppose I'm willing to be convinced, it'd be interesting to see how my strengths compare to those of a God. Of course, as I still don't know which you are, you'll have to understand why I find myself… understandably leery of making any deals… especially with a Trickster God."

He actually laughed at that, "I suppose you'll just have to travel with me for the next week. Try and figure out who I am and if you're willing to make a deal," he gave her a particularly sleazy wink and once-over, but curiously enough, actually seemed sincere in his offer.

She paused. For a long moment she observed him, just evaluating, weighing what she knew and could sense about this strange being in front of her. She allowed herself a sigh, feeling the tension build in her shoulders as she glanced in the direction of the pull from the tracker. She shouldn't be considering this, considering abandoning what she had taken on as her duty, considering abandoning those two boys. But. But she was so tired, and she was finally admitting it to herself. She was tired of fighting for a cause that always seemed so ready to turn on her, felt like she was running scared, stretched thin in all the ways she had been after Petunia died. The way she had been in that first realization that Dumbledore had failed, that he was leading them to their deaths in a betrayal that was all the worse because she hadn't noticed that despite her personal distaste for the headmaster she had at least expected-depended upon him being a good leader, someone who could pull the wizarding community through the catastrophe while she figured out how to end it.

And this man- this Trickster God, he was offering her an out she hadn't even acknowledged she needed until this point. It went against everything she stood for to back away, to truly abandon the Winchesters to their own devices as they had demanded she do. She stared into the distance, torn, before glancing back at the god's face.

He was looking at her with a resigned understanding, something still surprised in his expression as if he couldn't quite believe himself he'd actually meant his invitation. He didn't expect her to take the offer, she realized. Was waiting on her to brush it off as the joke it had been meant to be, and leave. She felt something shift at that realization and straightened, allowing an easy expression to settle over whatever her face had been displaying, her decision was made. All that remained was to follow through. The Winchesters would carry on as they must, and she would always be a phone call away. But she was ready to take a chance on something new, to step forth into the unknown once more to find out if she would shatter or make it to the other side stronger again.

"Where to then?"

Author's Note: Thank-you all for reading!

By the way, if anyone is interested in Hetalia and/or The Lord of the Rings, my amazing sister Araesson's Storm and I have started a monster crossover (the NaNoWriMo project that temporarily overran our lives). I encourage you to check it out!