Back and Forth
Disclaimed: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. No profit is being made from this
A/N: I don't where this came from. Left field?
He knew there was something going on with his dad and brother, but he didn’t know how to catch them on it. He was only ten years old and ‘sneaky’ wasn’t something he had perfected. But that didn’t stop him from trying. Sam Winchester was a curious child.
He found the gun strapped to the bottom of the car.
The yelling he received for it was worth it. He now knew his dad did something with it. He wasn’t a cop, though. But he did shoot things, he just didn’t know what. He still wanted to know more. Unfortunately, finding out more information equaled getting caught more often. His dad had had enough of it and had taken to locking him in his room.
Getting locked in his room, though? Bad idea.
One day, as he did his homework, he heard a voice call to him. From his closet. Was that not the weirdest thing ever? It had been happening more often, a voice calling his name and him doing everything he could to ignore it. Sam was a curious boy, yes, but he wasn’t stupid. A voice coming from a closet filled with clothing was never a good thing. It should have been impossible. Even at his young age he knew that. But he never told anyone, because really, what could his dad or Dean do? So he kept ignoring the voice and focused on how he would get more information about his dad and why he had a gun.
A month of being settled in his new room, they had to move again. They moved a lot and Sam had no idea why. Though he figured it had something to do with the gun. Maybe his dad was a bad guy, like the ones he saw on TV. But another move meant leaving the closet and Sam could rest peacefully knowing he left it behind. But he was wrong. The voice called again.
And this time? Curiosity got the best of him and Sam opened the new closet door and his whole world exploded.
He didn’t know where he was, but he did.
He didn’t know why he was there, but he did.
He didn’t know what he was witnessing, but he did.
He didn’t know what was happening, but he did Graveyard. Portkey. Voldemort’s return. Harry Potter fighting for his life.
He had already been at Hogwarts for a year, but that couldn’t have been right. He was just in his room, a motel, pretending to do his homework. Maybe he had fallen asleep, so he was dreaming. Right? How could this have been real? But the memories… He remembered arriving at Hogwarts on the train, crossing the lake with the other First Years. He had been nervous, excited to follow in his parents footsteps. Parents who had been killed. He was sorted into Ravenclaw, like they had been as students.
Did dreams even work that way? He was remembering his entire eleven years of life as something completely different. His mom didn’t die when he was a baby. He came from a family of wizards; he was a pureblood. But they had been killed during an attack. NOT by Death Eaters the Ministry had assured, but he had known. But that wasn’t right. None of this could be right, but it was. He remembered the excitement he felt about the tournament being hosted at Hogwarts, rooting for THE Harry Potter to excel! He was a bit of a fan of the Fourth Year and his housemates had teased him about it.
None of this made sense, but he didn’t have time to really think about it before Harry had grabbed him and used the portkey to take them back to the Quidditch Pitch with Cedric’s dead body.
He remembered collapsing and instead of waking up with Madame Pomprey fussing over him, he opened his eyes and was right back in his room, the closet door shutting behind him. It was the same room he had been in, and the clock read the same time as when he had left. No time had passed here, but he witnessed an entire battle, lived an entire life in the Wizarding World.
He had tried to figure it out for weeks after it happened, but quickly forgot when his dad finally let him on the secret he had tried so hard to figure out. The supernatural existed, and it wasn’t limited to just possibly real Wizarding Worlds.
Sam Winchester became a hunter, putting his wizarding life behind.
Until it happened again.
He had opened his closet door because of a demon inside it, a boogeyman type creature. He was fully prepared to shoot it and send it back to Hell, not for the closet to act as a portal, again, and dump him in Hogwarts. On alert, he sat up and was pushed right back down by Madame Pomprey.
He shouldn’t be moving so quickly with the injuries he had received.
What injuries, though? He was untouched by the monster in the closet until the memories caught up with him.
It was the end of his second year. A year that went surprisingly well until he decided to befriend Harry Potter and his friends. No, they weren’t bad people, nor did they go looking for trouble, but trouble definitely found them. But he didn’t care, even when he flew with them to the Ministry of Magic to help Harry save Sirius Black, a man who wasn’t a murderer, apparently.
It had been risky, especially since he didn’t know too many spells outside of what Harry had taught him and the others. Though, he did do outside reading. Reading whatever spells he could, trying to gleam any knowledge that was officially available. He was in Ravenclaw for a reason. He wasn’t at Hermione’s level, but Sam was a very smart Second Year.
But reading and physically doing the spells during battle was something completely different. He couldn’t defeat a Death Eater, at his age, and he should not have come along, but he fought tooth and nail to be there and held his own alongside his friends. But was it worth it? Sirius Black was gone through the veil and the prophecy was destroyed.
But on the upside, Minister Fudge finally accepted that Voldemort had returned.
Harry was beside, worry in his eyes.
Sam knew worry. He had seen it in his father’s eyes whenever he took him out hunting. Seen in Dean’s eyes whenever he did a drill. But their eyes never made Sam’s stomach do what it was currently doing and that was flip flops. He knew what it meant, but that didn’t mean he was ready to talk about it.
He had closed his eyes again, the battle still making him a bit weak. Reopening them, he found himself back in front of his closet, the boogeyman coming out to take him. Not even hesitating, Sam fired, thoughts of Hogwarts and kissing Harry being pushed into the back of his head.
There was no way this wasn’t going to look bad. Sam and a boy, a boy from school, in his closet sharing a kiss. The door knob turning and Dean calling his name. Before he knew it, though, he was on the Hogwarts lawn and he was crying.
Why was he cryi--- Dumbledore was dead. Hogwarts had been attacked, Death Eaters had somehow got in. He wasn’t allowed to fight, of course. Forced to sit in his room with his housemates while Harry was out there dealing with whatever was happening. And Dumbledore had fallen, under the Killing Curse.
He wasn’t really paying attention to what was being said. He was too busy staring at Harry, Hermione and Ron. Something was up, something they hadn’t planned on sharing with him and the others. They had been there, fighting beside them this whole time and they were still being left in the dark.
He didn’t want to be here anymore, where the strongest wizard of his age was dead and Harry was pulling away from Hogwarts, from his friends, from him. Sam, the boy who lov—No. Now was not the time to dwell on that.
And fortunately he didn’t have to as he was back again in the closet, pulling away from the soft lips of another boy as Dean stood before him, wide eyed and slack jawed. Well, at least one of his secrets was out of the bag, closet, whatever.
Could it really get any worse?
He was hiding from his dad. At 14. They had moved. Again. Sam had to make new friends. Again. He wanted some freedom. Again. But instead of accepting that there was nothing he could do except to sit and sulk, he yelled at his dad. That was a first and the look John Winchester had on his face? Yea, it had Sam running into his room, locking the door and hiding in his closet. It wasn’t his smartest move and he knew Dean would eventually crack a joke about him being in the closet or something ‘witty’ like that, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t want to be there anymore. It was June, which meant his escape was coming.
He had figured it out after the last year. He only left during June, when something big was happened or had happened in the Wizarding World. And while it only seemed like a few moments for him, waiting for his memory to catch up to him to inform him of his year, everyone there never knew different. He was always there, everyday, going to class and getting into unnecessary trouble. He didn’t know how it worked, but he really didn’t care.
He considered Hogwarts home. The longest he had ever stayed in a place, technically.
And before he knew, he was there, once again in the infirmary. Except this time he wasn’t in a bed, but standing over one, one occupied by Harry Potter. He remembered then. The final battle. Harry dying, coming back, Voldemort finally being defeated. A lot of people, people he personally knew, were dead.
But Harry had survived, carried the Wizarding World on his shoulders and now he was free from it. Well, mostly.
Here Harry was, looking like death warmed over and HE was asking SAM if he was alright. He could have kissed him right then and there. And of course, his body listened to his brain and he was slamming his lips against Harry’s before he came back to his senses and he was running away, just like with John Winchester. Running away from the problem instead of tackling it head on. Though, he wanted to do more than just tackle the Harry problem, but now was not the time.
The boy had just taken care of a Dark Lord and all Sam could do was throw himself at him! He’d rather deal with John now. That would be much more simple.
And damnit if two minutes after running away from Harry, he found himself back in his closet and John Winchester picking the lock on his door.
He hadn’t been to Hogwarts in three years. He didn’t know why. But when June of 1999 came and went and he didn’t go anywhere, he did some researching. He had gotten really good at computers and had tried to find evidence of the Wizarding World. Nothing, nada, zilch. Of course, that world had no connection to anything electronic and it wasn’t like he could just fly over and find it. So he ignored the feeling of sadness he felt and jumped into hunting.
He was 16 when he decided he wanted more. Another year of not being back to his other home and dealing with his dad’s obsession to find the demon that killed his wife had gotten to Sam. He just wanted to be normal. No more hunting, no more Hogwarts. He wanted to go to college, but no one understood why. After countless fights with his dad, Sam kept his dreams to himself. He would graduate and go to college; John just wouldn’t know Sam’s plans until it was too late.
He had hidden anything related to his normal life in a shoebox in his closet and was currently looking for a piece of mail he had hidden. It was from Stanford; he just hadn’t had time to look at it earlier and placed it there until he could get some privacy. Opening the envelope, he found himself looking at his diploma from…
Looking up, he gave a soft smile at his house. It was a small home, one he could barely afford with the money he had saved before he could find a job at the Ministry, but it was still his. He had left Hogwarts only a few weeks before, an alumnus.
He had finally made it through his schooling and was ready to start his career, another chapter. But first he had a lunch date with Hermione to discuss… Damn, she wanted to talk about Harry. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so drunk off the Firewhiskey at his graduation celebration and confessed his love for the messy haired wizard to her? Probably not.
But he never got the chance as he was back in his closet, reading over his acceptance letter to Stanford.
Yet another chapter in his life. Maybe next year he’d be on route to become the next Minister of Magic.
But the chance would never come. Sam didn’t know it, but that would be last time in the Wizarding World. He’d never know that people thought he went missing, or that a certain friend cared more than he did. Not for a few more years, at least.
Review, please? And be nice. I really have no idea what I just wrote, but I know there's more coming.