Harry Potter was sitting on his couch with a cup of tea when he felt the pull.
This wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. Ever since he finally passed on from his life on earth he had been working in the “underworld” (for lack of a better term). Often, he had drunk teenagers screwing up a summoning ritual for ghosts and demons and accidentally summoning him instead. He didn’t mind too much, they usually got scared when they realized they actually managed to summon something and run away, letting him go back to whatever he was doing. But sometimes, he wasn’t that lucky.
It started small, small enough that he could ignore it if he really wanted. He tried his best to finish his tea, sighing when the pull became more insistent. He continued to ignore it until it became strong enough that he felt his body strain to keep him seated where he was. Placing his cup down onto a coaster, he stood up and let the pull bring him to where it wanted.
When he felt his body materialize in the circle used to summon him, he looked around. Instead of the usual drunk shenanigans, however, it was two fully grown men.
Two fully grown men who were holding knives and guns.
What the bloody fuck.
“Uhh, can I help you?” Harry asked, flicking his eyes between the two men. Almost as soon as they heard him speak, they tensed up. The taller of the two took a hesitant step forward and began to chant in a butchered version of Latin. Harry ignored them briefly to look around the small room he had found himself in.
It appeared to be a bunker of sorts, with supplies strewn about. Various knives, swords, guns, and other weapons (was that salt?) were hung from the walls. Books were stacked in towering piles across the floor. And, of course, right in the middle of the room was a giant summoning circle. After taking note of his surroundings, he tuned back in to listen to the tall man finish what he was doing.
“...with that, I hold the power to command Death and make me his master. I have your first task.” When Harry looked back at the tall man, he was looking at him expectantly.
“Oh.” Said Harry. “Uhh, I see where you went wrong. See, your translation is a bit off.” Harry stepped forward, out of the summoning circle, causing the tall man to drop the book and scramble back. “Aha! See this bit here? Mistranslated. This isn’t a ritual to summon death and become its master, it's a ritual to summon the master of death. Common error.” He looked back at the two men who were still looking at him with wide eyes. “If you look at your circle, you’ve etched the rune for me instead of death as well.” The tall man took a hesitant step forward.
“So you aren’t… Death?” Harry shook his head.
“Nope!”
“You’re his master?” Harry sensed a tone of disbelief.
“Unfortunately, yeah.”
“Hold on,” started the shorter of the two men, “You’re telling me that a teenager is in charge of death?” Harry turned towards him and scowled.
“I may look young, but I’m not a teenager. I guarantee I’m older than you both combined.” He looked between them both for a second. “Mind telling me why you’re trying to summon death? I don’t take either of you as the suicidal type.” The shorter man looked ready to start arguing, but the taller one put his arm out to hold him back and started speaking again.
“My brother made a deal with a demon. I wanted to try and get him out of it.” Harry paused at that and raised his eyebrow.
“A deal with a demon.” He nodded his head. “What on earth drove you to making a deal with a demon?” The shorter man’s shoulders went stiff with defense.
“Sam died. I traded my soul for his.” He turned his glare to who Harry now knew as Sam. “And I don’t regret it.”
Fuck.
Of course.
“You’re the Winchesters.” Harry muttered to himself. He had heard their names thrown around a few times from demons who had the misfortune of being banished back to the underworld. He had been perfectly content to look the other way and not get involved in whatever those two were up to. “Of course the Winchesters summoned me. Out of anyone, it had to be the Winchesters. I’m too old to deal with this bullshit.” The two men (the Winchesters, Harry supposed) shot him with what he interpreted to be an insulted look. “Look. I have things I need to be doing right now, so I’m going to leave. However, I’ll look into your demon problem. They’ve been making deals with humans way too easily recently.” He huffed, stepping back into the circle, ready to pretend he never met the two brothers for his own sanity. Before he blinked away again he shot them a small smile.
“Let’s never do this again, shall we?”