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Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part One: Chapter One – Code Purple

April, 1980

Diedre Collins was bored.  She thought joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an Auror would lead to an exciting life of tracking down criminals.  That was until she got put on the No-Maj beat.  And it was road season.  She had around a forty No-Maj case load and she spent from March through May checking in on them. Lawrence, Kansas wasn’t exactly what she had imagined when she thought of traveling as an Auror.  Vegas maybe, San Francisco... Merlin, she’d prefer just about anywhere to here.  Kansas doesn’t even have a professional Quadpot team – so now she was forced to listen to games over the wireless in her free time.  Oh well, she thought.  She was only in her 3^rd year of service.  She was sure that if she worked hard enough she would soon be promoted and off to something far more exciting.

Diedre spotted her target.  A pretty blonde woman was walking down the street with a handsome husband and was that…oh yes, a baby!  There was a small blue bundle in a stroller the woman was pushing.  Well, that was new.  Last she had seen of this particular family, it had just been the wife and husband.  She did a quick mental check of what to do next. 

She confirmed that her disillusionment spell was well in place and she stood by the couple, who had stopped because the child was crying.

“Where is his binky?” The woman demanded of her husband.  The man looked a little lost. 

“I’m not sure – did he spit it out?”  The baby cried louder.

“Find it, find it!” The woman said frantically while cooing and trying everything she could to calm the baby.

This was Diedre’s chance.  “Puero magicis,” she whispered while pointing her wand toward the family.  Nothing happened.  Thank Merlin, she thought.  That would have been a ton of headache and paperwork, especially since the baby had already been born.  She was turning away to leave when she saw a faint purple glimmer.  It wasn’t coming from the child, however, it was coming from the woman’s visibly pregnant belly. Well crap, Diedre thought.  She quickly ducked behind a corner and apparated back to headquarters.     

III

“Sir, we’ve got a Code Purple,” the young Auror, flushed from running, reported to her department head, Marius Fischer. 

“As in the Purpura Convention?”  This caught the older man off guard. 

The Purpura Convention was older than MACUSA. It stemmed from an old law in Great Britain, although the protocol associated with cases under the Convention had changed over time.  Originally, when a magical infant was born to a prominent muggle (such as the royal family) alarms would go off at the ministry.  To protect the Statute of Secrecy the child was smuggled away from the family and memories were altered to make it seem as though the mother had had a stillbirth.  Stillbirths were common enough until modern times that nothing seemed terribly amiss to the Muggles.  The child would then be adopted into a Pureblood family and treated equally, if not better, than natural-born children.  The child would eventually be told, of course, and granted a title in the Wizengamot and a generous stipend for life.

This practice ended in England after one queen birthed 12 magical children and none of her remaining 5 lived much longer than a day or two.  The expense had simply been too much.  Additionally, some of the children themselves had rallied against the law, thinking it cruel, especially to their mother, who had died childless.  Those children were able to bring Great Britain into a period of cooperation between Wizarding Britain and the Muggle government. 

MACUSA never shared such a relationship with the No-Maj government of the United States.  The structure of the government made it easier to hide any magical offspring of prominent figures.  The Convention was then adapted to protect the wizarding children of an entirely different sort of no-maj: hunters. 

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had a small, but dedicated team that tracked hunters.  Hunters were considered one of the greatest threats to wizarding society.  Because of their work with the No-Maj supernatural, they often got dangerously close to discovering actual magical communities. 

Even more dangerous, however, was when a hunter gives birth to a magical child.  There had simply been so many magical children killed by their families in the 1920s and 30s that MACUSA enacted the old Purpura Convention.  Any magical child born to Hunters was immediately removed from the family and put up for adoption; the family would be obliviated - would be made to believe that they had miscarried or had a stillbirth and the child placed in a safe, wizarding, environment. 

“Deidre, are you sure?  Which hunter?”  Marius knew Diedre to be a competent young woman, if not a bit flighty and a bit too obsessed with Quadpot. So far, she filed her reports and hadn’t caused him much grief.

“Affirmative.  It’s the Campbell family – their daughter.” 

Recognition flashed in his eyes.  “What was her name…Meredith, Margaret, or something like that?”

“Mary sir.  Mary Campbell.  Mary Winchester now, she’s married.”

“She had fallen off my radar.  I thought she gave up hunting years ago.”

“True sir.  When she married, in fact, however, with her family background.  Plus, her husband is the only child of Henry Winchester.” 

“Of the American Men of Letters Winchesters?”  Auror Fischer was now extremely alarmed.  Even though the Men of Letters in the US had gone extinct a number of years ago, and the department that had monitored them had been disbanded, they were notorious enough in his field to raise some alarm bells in his head. 

“That’s correct.  Sir, in training we covered the theory of what to do next, but I’m not even sure of the last time we’ve had to enact the Convention.” 

“It has been quite some time – almost fifteen years ago.  First, how far along is she?”

“I’m not sure sir, she was showing.  And she had a baby in a bassinet, so she couldn’t be too far along.”

“That will be your first job then,” replied Fischer, clearly not impressed by his subordinate.  “Find out how far along she is and then we will have to start looking for a placement…”

III

“Are you serious?” Lily Potter questioned her husband.  As a Muggleborn, there had been many things that had surprised her about the old-fashioned nature of the wizarding world.  She thought, after nine years of extensive research and reading, that those surprises would come less often.  But this one just about put her over the edge.  “They took the children away…that…that…that’s barbaric!”

“Lils,” began James, noticing that she was about to fly into one of her serious rages.  That never ended well for anyone, but least of all James. 

“No James, does everyone know about this?  How is it possible that Professor Binns covered, at my last count, 62 goblin wars, but he didn’t see fit to inform us that the Ministry steals children?!?” 

“Well, they don’t anymore…”

James removed his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose.  This lesson on the Potter family history had seriously derailed.  He wasn’t very surprised by this.  Family history had been a part of his lessons growing up.  Surprisingly, one of his favorites, because it was his father who had taken great care in teaching him about the family.  His father, although older than other parents, and also quite busy, always made sure to make those lessons special.  James’ mind shifted from minor frustration to sadness.  Fleamont had died a year and a half ago, and yet, somehow, these memories still hit him as a sharp pain. 

Lily saw the change in her husband and took some deep breaths.  “I’m sorry James, we’ve gone off track.  We were up to the late 17^th century.” 

James pulled himself away from the grief, grateful to not have to dwell.  “Yes, Wilelm Potter.  He was one of those stolen children.  He later would go on to fight for…”

“Wait, are you telling me that you are related to the royal family?”  Lily had known that the Potter family was old and distinguished, if not somewhat tarnished by “higher society” for their affinity for muggle rights.  

James looked at her blankly.  “No, Wilelm was a Potter.”

“But he was born to royal parents?  Muggle royal parents?”

“Well yes…”

“And you descend directly from him?” Lily interrupted.

“Yes, but…”

“That means that you also descend from those royal Muggle parents,” she interrupted again. 

“He was born to royal parents, but he became a Potter.” 

There was clearly something being lost in translation. 

“James, I don’t understand.  Did the Potters adopt him?”

“They didn’t adopt him – they made him a Potter.” 

Lily stared.  “How did they do that?”

A light went on in James’ head.  Oh. 

“It’s fallen completely out of practice now, especially since the Ministry ended this particular policy, but there is a ceremony – well, it’s really more of a ritual, that brings a baby into a family.  I don’t know all the details – I never asked, but essentially the child inherits all the traits he would have if he had naturally been born to the family that is taking him in.  He doesn’t lose what he got from his birth parents, that would be barbaric because something from those parents makes him magical.  However, after the ceremony, the child is a member of the family.  He will have the traits of his original parents, but he will not pass those along to any of his children.  So Wilelm was a Potter, a Pureblood Potter, and I directly descend from him, but not his Muggle parents.”   

James took Lily’s stunned silence to mean that she understood now and moved on, “So after Wilelm came…”

Lily had stopped paying attention.  She would make James go through the rest of this later, but while he continued to talk, her mind was going faster than a Cleansweep. 

III

A week later, Lily was at the Ministry of Magic. 

She had shirked some of her Order duties in that time doing research in the Ministry archives and talking to whomever she could about what she had since learned was called the Purpura Convention.  James was not wrong when he said that the British Ministry of Magic had outlawed the practice – although it was slightly later than what he had stated.  He failed to mention (he had since claimed ignorance on the entire topic) that the International Statute of Secrecy had passed just decades before the practice had been outlawed and the Convention was embedded in the original wording of that document.  Other countries in Europe and around the world continued using the Convention.  While many, more recently, had also outlawed the practice sense, there were a few holdouts.  The ministry in Italy being one (something to do with the Vatican and the Catholic Church) and the other being the United States.   

Lily still didn’t completely understand the magic behind the ritual that made a child the genetic offspring of four parents instead of two, but she was still horrified at the entire notion that a child could be separated from his or her parents and the parents being none-the-wiser. It seemed that there was nothing she could do – after all, she wasn’t American or Italian and could not change their laws and customs. 

However, Lily was not one to give up so easily.  With some help from a tricky little translation spell (Thanks Remus, she mentally acknowledged) she found what was required of the parents of the “adopted” child. 

First, the adopting father had to be a Pureblood - but only the father.  It was the first time that Lily was thankful for the backward, misogynistic way that the Wizarding world used to (alright, still did largely) work.  She thought that the people who designed the ritual assumed that no Pureblooded man would deign to marry beneath his station and the wife was simply not taken into account. 

Second, the father had to prove that he was not entering into the agreement for his own personal financial gain.  So, it had to be someone independently wealthy and the stipend provided by the Ministry was for the child, and the child alone. 

Third, the adoption ritual had to be performed within 72 hours of the father taking custody of the child. 

There were many other stipulations – the list was on parchment over ten feet long.  But it was towards the end of the list that Lily found the jackpot.  The father was to be present for the birth of the child and the memory wipe of the birth family so that the child’s magical core could be verified and the birth parents were deemed “acceptable.”  (Lily didn’t even want to think about what had caused that particular addendum to be added.)

Although the Convention no longer applied in the United Kingdom, any magical family that fit the requirements could put themselves on the list of possible adoptive parents of these children.  It wasn’t terribly common that the Italian children got sent abroad; usually, they were shifted around the magical city-states of the modern muggle country.  In the case of the United States, it was actually preferred for the children to be sent abroad.  Lily wasn’t quite sure what a “hunter” was and why hunter parents were classified as the top (and often only) priority in the American version of the Convention, but she couldn’t imagine the rationale behind blindly removing a child from their parent’s custody, lives, and minds. 

James and Lily had married very young.  With the looming war and the early death of their parents, it had just felt right.  They did not have any intention of bringing a child into the world during this time of darkness.  The inheritance James received from his parents made it possible for  both Lily and James to forgo paying jobs and throw themselves entirely into working for the Order of the Phoenix.  While Dumbledore was the leader of the group, Lily had quickly become instrumental in the daily running of the Order, using what James called her, “Headgirl hat” to organize and keep the group together.  Naturally, spending their days secretly working against an evil dark lord did not seem ideal for raising a child.  (Even though their friends and fellow Order members had already started – Alice and Frank had wasted no time starting their family.)  Plus, as the couple always joked, they were still too focused on raising Sirius to take on another child. 

In the last week of research, though, Lily had made up her mind.  She and James would get on the list of potential adoptive parents for a child.  There hadn’t been a case in nearly fifteen years, so it was unlikely they would get a child anytime soon.  If they were chosen, they would go through all the required parts of the adoption but modify the memory charm put on the actual parents.  When the coast was clear, so to speak, and requirements were met, they would return the child to his or her rightful parents.  They could act as “guardian angels,” and check to be sure the child was being treated well, but otherwise, they would right a wrong. 

Hence Lily’s trip to the Ministry.  James had taken a little convincing, but eventually, he came around; not only did he have a very hard time denying his wife anything once she put her mind to something, but he saw this as a great way to stick it to the system.  She had all the documentation ready and she was headed to the Department of Wizarding Child Welfare to be officially placed on a list of potential adoptive parents. 

While waiting to be approved for a child, Lily would start researching ways to get this old Convention overturned, but this way she felt like she was doing something.  She could stop obsessing over this small part of Wizarding tradition and get back to what was most important – the Order and stopping Voldemort.   

~*~

“Five months sir,” Diedre reported. 

Fischer looked up from his paperwork.  “She’s due in five months or is she five months along?”  As a confirmed bachelor, talk of pregnancy and what he thought of as “witch issues,” made the senior Auror pretty uncomfortable.  But this was work, and he had been told by the President of MACUSA herself that it was a top priority. 

“Five months along.  But I have to say, sir, she doesn’t hunt anymore.  Her parents have been deceased for seven years.  I looked back on the field notes on her - her parents were killed by a demon and it doesn’t appear as though she has done anything to try and find that demon or any other No-Maj supernatural creatures.  And her husband, John, never even knew his father.  Does this really fall under the Convention still?”

Auror Fischer could see where Diedre was leading with this.  But she was young still and hadn’t experienced the same things he had while in this department.  “How far back in her case file have you read, Collins?” 

Diedre thought for a second.  “I started around her 11^th birthday – just to be thorough and to be sure that she never received acceptance to Ilvermorny.”  She knew that Mary had started her training young, but it was incomprehensible to the Auror that any fight training could begin before a child was old enough for a wand.  

“And you didn’t look further into her family’s past?”

How annoying.  She hated when he asked so many rapid-fire follow-up questions.  She had only been on the case for a day and a half now – there had been no time to go deeper.  She took a deep breath and bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue.  “No sir, I did not.” 

Fischer sighed.  He had hoped that she would find this information on her own and understand what monsters these hunters were – especially the Campbells.  He knew that the first couple of years on the hunter beat sometimes made Aurors question how dangerous these No-Majs were.  Some even came to see themselves as similar to the hunters – after all, many of the creatures that were hunted were a scourge to the communities they chose to terrorize.  But underestimating them, as if they were just normal No-Majs, was a very big mistake.  Sometimes deadly – even to wizards. 

“Come with me Collins – there is something you need to see.” 

The two Aurors headed over to the records room.  Diedre had spent a good amount of time in this room – especially when in training.  All trainee Aurors were required to spend six months in the Hunter division.  It was meant to teach them not to underestimate No-Majs.  In reality, it usually ended up being a lesson in tedium.  Aurors often joked that the first year was meant to scare them to death – with gruesome stories of dark wizards.  The second year was to bore them to death – that was when they had to spend time learning to process paperwork and read endless files on dangerous No-Majs.  And in their final year, they were worked to death.  Diedre felt like, even three years later, she hadn’t had a chance to catch up on sleep from her final year of training. 

“Dirkwood, I need to see Orb 784,” Fischer said to the elderly clerk sitting at the reception desk. 

“Right away sir,” he replied.  “Can I just see your badge?”

Fischer fought the urge to roll his eyes and produced his Auror badge. 

“Everything seems to be in order,” said the clerk, summoning the requested orb. 

Fischer took Diedre over to one of the pensieve rooms to the left.  They were actually quite lucky that there weren’t any trainees in there doing research.  He carefully put the memory inside and directed the younger woman to take a look.

“You’re not going with me sir?” she asked. 

“No, Diedre, I think once was more than enough for me,” he replied. 

That made Diedre a little nervous – she didn’t think anything could shake Auror Fisher.  She stuck her head in. 

She was in a dark, dank room.  There was water dripping on the floor.  Drawn in the center of the room was an odd-looking rune – in the shape of a pentagram.  Although she had taken Runes at Ilvermorny, Diedre didn’t recognize it in this particular situation. 

In the center of the run was a young woman – couldn’t be older than 16 or 17.  She was chained in place from hooks anchored in the concrete floor.  Her brassy brown hair was strewn out in all directions away from her face.  The look of terror on her face was impossible to miss. 

“Uncle Samuel – please.”

That was when Diedre noticed that there were three other men in the room.  One looked to be asleep in a chair – no, she realized, he was tied to the chair.  Carefully though, and he seemed otherwise unharmed.  Another man, who appeared to be in his 20s, had tears in his eyes as he looked at the girl chained on the floor.  He seemed sad but resolute.  The scariest of the three men was the one the girl had addressed.  Middle-aged and bald, he had the look of someone so single-minded that they were almost manic.  He was the one who responded to the girl.

“I don’t know if you are possessed or if you’ve been making deals, girl.  But either way, I’m putting an end to this.”

“Neither!  I told you – they said I was born this way – I’ve not…”

“No one is born evil, Liberty,” he said severely.  “You’re not natural.   Carry around this stick as if it were a proper weapon proving that you’re not safe either – I can’t allow you to continue to endanger this family.  Now, I’ve tried every form of exorcism that I know.  Time to try something new.  Mark – the wire.” 

Mark, the younger man in the room quickly wiped away any evidence of wetness on his face and a look of grim determination.  He grabbed a coil of wire from a shelf and started walking towards the oldest man.  Samuel, while waiting, started examining what must have been the girl’s wand. 

The girl started mumbling to herself – Diedre could just make out her chanting, “alohomora.” 

Oh no, thought Diedre.  Liberty was at just the wrong age for such an attempt.  A little too old for the emotional magic outbursts of youth a little too young to have the control for non-verbal or wandless magic. 

Diedre wasn’t the only one to hear though – “Uncle Samuel” dropped the wand on the floor near his feet and turned his attention back on his niece. 

“What was that girl?  Are you trying, even now, in a devil’s trap to perform your perversion?  See, Mark, I know you had your doubts.  But look at her – that is not your sweet baby cousin.  Can’t you just hear the evil rolling through her voice?  This is why I’ve raised you as a hunter.  Can you imagine – I let this thing babysit Mary?  Imagine what she could have done to your little sister?” 

With what must have been her final bit of strength, the quiet mumbling became bigger.  “ALOHOMORA!” Liberty shouted.  Her chains came loose and she was free.  Samuel’s eyes went big as she was able to leave the circle – he started towards her, trying to prevent her escape.  But she was emboldened now, and even though Diedre was not present in the room, she could feel the girl’s magic.  “ACCIO,” she exclaimed.  Her wand flew into her hand and Samuel was pushed back with such might that he was thrown into the wall.  He didn’t get back up. 

Liberty ran over to the man tied to a chair, and pulled out her wand, “Enervate.” 

“Dad,” she said, as the man began to come to, “come on, we have to go.” She was shaking now – the power of the moment had seemed to be disappointing.  “Alohomora,” she tried again, with no results on the ropes around her father’s hands.  “Alohomora!”  She tried again – still no luck. 

Mark, in all this, had run over to Samuel.  He was examining his father with more and more frantic energy.  No matter what he tried, the man wasn’t coming to.

He turned to Liberty.  “You bitch!” he cried, pulling a handgun out from his side.  “What did you do to my father?”  He started advancing on her. 

“Run, Liberty!” the man in the chair coughed. 

She listened.  She started scrambling towards the stairs – struggling and tripping slightly on her feet. 

‘BANG,’ sounded loudly from behind and struck Liberty in the back.  ‘BANG BANG,’ again.  She fell just at the bottom of the stairs, her wand rolling into the blood freely flowing from her body.

“NO!” yelled Diedre. 

“That’s enough,” said Fischer.  He pulled them out of the memory. 

Diedre stumbled a couple of feet away to the corner of the room and promptly lost the contents of her stomach. 

“Come with me, Collins,” Fischer said in a gruff voice while placing a gentle, guiding hand on her back.  “I’ve got a calming draught in my office.  Then we’ll discuss what needs to be done with Mary Winchester’s baby.”

III

Even with the calming draught in her system, Diedre could feel the crawling of horror, anxiety, and sadness under her skin.  She knew it was there, but she could no longer access those feelings, making it easier to focus on the matter at hand.  All she could ask was, “Why? How was this possible?”

Fischer looked at her seriously from behind his desk.  While he hadn’t needed a calming draught, he had taken the opportunity to pour himself three fingers of fire whiskey. 

“I’m going to need you to be more specific,” he growled.  “Why was she murdered?  Why wasn’t it stopped?  How was she not removed from her family, as most children born to hunters?”

Diedre didn’t have any words.  She just nodded, for him to continue on.

“Lionel Campbell was her father – the man you saw tied to the chair.  He was a veteran and served as a pilot in the No-Maj Second World War and the Korean conflict.  He was often away on tours of duty.  Hadn’t hunted in years.  We thought she would be safe.  Her mother was a squib – something we thought would help protect the child.  She could explain the difference between natural witches and demonic ones.  Evidently, she did explain.  Lionel understood.  He didn’t love it, but he did love his daughter,” Fischer stopped for a moment to finish his drink and pour himself another. 

He took a deep breath, “He actively avoided his brother, Samuel, after Liberty got her letter, especially because her magic was so strong, as you could see.  By the time she was 17 though, they thought that she had it under control.  They went to the family reunion that summer – which, in the Campbell family was more of a yearly knowledge-sharing seminar and a time to brag about kills.  One evening Liberty was watching Mary – that’s right, the very Mary currently carrying a magical child, and she performed some little charm.  I don’t even know what it was.  But she was caught.  And then…”

He didn’t need to keep speaking for Diedre to know what followed.  Torture, the death of an innocent young witch.  There was a pause. 

“That memory came from Mark.  The accidental magic was strong enough to catch the attention of the local Aurors.  He thought that Liberty had killed his father, and in the heat of the moment, well you saw what happened.  He was taken into custody and tried.  So was Samuel.  Mark was given life imprisonment.  He died just a couple of years in.  Samuel though – he was considered too dangerous, but not guilty of murder.  His memory was wiped.  The family’s whole memory was wiped.  Not a one remembers her.  But this is why we must follow the Convention.  To the letter.  Do you understand Diedre?” 

She nodded.  She felt sick, but she understood.  She would do whatever it took to save this child from Liberty’s fate.  Mary and John Winchester could not be allowed to keep the child.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part One: Chapter Two – Marauders and MACUSA

June, 1980

Lily walked into the room where James and Sirius were playing chess. 

Of course, being the Marauders that they were, they couldn’t do so normally.  And her standards weren’t the ordinary Muggle chess that she grew up with – no, their method had been going on for years and, even by wizard’s standards, it was a bit disturbing.  Lily knew that they had started their version while they were researching how to make the Marauder’s Map, but over the years, it had gotten a bit out of control and each member of the group told a different origin story.  It started with trying to make chess pieces act like wizard portraits.  Each piece had its own personality.  A lot of personality. 

Half the “fun” (as the grown men now described it) was knowing the characters well enough to understand their motivations.  If the chess player tried to get a piece to move in a way that was counter to how the character would act (for example, sacrificing oneself for the greater good) the chess piece would simply refuse to move.  They would have to be “talked into” doing what they were told.  At first iteration, the pieces mimicked different students and professors at Hogwarts.  Then different historical figures.  Then, one rebellious summer, Sirius had watched his first Muggle soap opera.  So began the knights equipped with daggers, the pawns that could throw wine, and the Queens who discovered the opposing Queen was her secret, evil, twin sister. 

Last month, The Empire Strikes Back was released – the final Star Wars movie (Thank Merlin, Lily thought, never to be the wiser).  This meant that Knight Luke was deadlocked in a tiny lightsaber battle with King Darth Vader, on top of Sirius’ jeans, with each figure occasionally missing and burning small lines into the fabric. 

Lily watched the scene quietly for a couple of minutes.  It was lovely to see the two men relaxed – although he pretended that the war and the death of his little brother was no chip off his shoulder, Sirius had been prone to long bouts of retreating from his friends and throwing himself into work with a storm cloud over his head. 

She cleared her throat.  Both men looked up at her. 

“Yes mum?” they asked in one, cheeky voice, at the same time.  It creeped her out a bit, which was, of course, the effect they were going for. 

“James, we have a letter from MACUSA – I think this is the acknowledgment of our application.”

“Already?” he asked.  “But we only just completed it two months ago!  Those Americans must be far more efficient than I’ve been giving them credit for.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” butted in Sirius.  “Remember when it took them half a year to get us that file on Cooligan?  And even then, it was for the wrong man!  I’m going to have to follow through on that on Monday…” 

“In any case, the outside seal requires both of our wand signatures to open it.  Very formal,” Lily said.  She perched on the arm of the chair James was in. 

He frowned slightly. “It is.  Let’s give it a look then.” 

They both placed the tips of their wands on the seal.  The letter opened. 

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Potter,

Greetings from the Office of Magical Law Enforcement!  We are pleased to inform you that your application to adopt under the Purpura Convention has been approved.  Your child will be delivered in the last week of July.  Please report to MLE Headquarters in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA by no later than the 25^th of July to complete all paperwork.  You will need to bring the following documentation with you…

That was as far as Lily got before she snatched the letter out of James’ hands.  She read it about five more times over, while James sat in the chair, slightly slack-jawed. 

“Good news?” asked Sirius. 

James turned to his best friend.  He made his voice deep and did the best impression he possibly could.  “Sirius, I am a father.” 

III

Lily straightened James’ robes as they prepared to depart via international portkey.  On the way back they would have to fly on a Muggle plane, as that would be what was safest for the baby. 

The baby!  Barely out of Hogwarts and she and James were going to be parents.  Temporarily, at least, as Lily kept reminding James (and Sirius, who found this whole situation hilarious). The last month had been a whirlwind of preparations - partially for show.  They wanted MACUSA to believe they were taking this adoption very seriously.  Thankfully, money wasn’t an object for the Potters, and they had spared no expense, buying anything and everything a Potter Heir (or Heiress) would need.  The list of documentation needed was enormous and included items such as receipts for baby clothes, affidavits from friends about the suitability of the house the baby was to live in, and ledgers showing that the baby would have his or her own bank account to pay for schooling. 

And, of course, they had to inform Dumbledore of all of their plans.  Partially because (even though they were unpaid) he was their boss.  But also, because they trusted him completely and would never have left him out of this process anyway.  He had even written a letter that, upon confirmation from the Hogwarts quill, that Baby Potter would be admitted to Hogwarts at age 11.  As much as Lily hated the tradition of stealing babies from their Muggle parents, even she had to admit that the government was thorough, and, in their own (very misguided) way, was trying to be sure that the child would be well cared for. 

Very few people knew about the rouse.  The Order knew that the Potters were adopting a baby, but many assumed it was because Lily couldn’t get pregnant.  Why so many people were happy to believe that a couple who had only been married for a couple of years would already be this desperate for a baby, Lily would never understand. But assume they did, and that was all that mattered. 

Only Dumbledore, Flitwick, and Sirius knew of their plans to return the child.  Dumbledore had recommended the Charms professor be brought in to look over Lily’s modified spell work.  Remus and Peter would be told, of course, but both were rather busy and rarely made it over for long enough for Lily and James to explain the whole situation. 

Sirius would be traveling with the Potters to the United States to act as a binder for the spells, moral support, and to be godfather to the baby.

“Fairy dogfather, more like.” James joked. 

“Did you just ridicule me because of my sexual orientation Prongs? I thought you accepted me as I am!” Sirius returned, mocking horror. 

“No, no,” James quipped back, “You missed the point entirely, Pads.  I was ridiculing both your sexual orientation and your promiscuity.  Did I or did I not see Hector Green sneaking out of your room only two nights after Keith Overman?” 

“Are you slut shaming me?” 

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Oh, alright then.  And Jamie?”

“Yes?”

“It was only one night between the two.  Next time, get your facts straight!” 

James had one more retort – but Lily had cut them off there before another bad, or potentially offensive joke could come out of her husband’s mouth.

“Boys.  Best behavior now, please.  This situation calls for ‘being-summoned-into-McGonagall’s-office-for-the-third-time-in-a-week’ level of attention to detail.”  Both men sobered their expressions. “Now,” Lily continued.  “Before the transportation wizard returns, let’s go over the facts one more time. James – what do we do for a living?”

“Charity work,” he responded promptly, recognizing that his wife was right.  This did need to be taken seriously.  “We run a foundation to generate funds and resources for Muggleborn students who otherwise could not afford Hogwarts.”

“And Sirius, why are we so dedicated to this cause?”

“Because it pisses off my parents?”  He ventured.

“Sirius.” Sirius swallowed and came to the same conclusion James had just 30 seconds too late to avoid the Lily's death glare. 

“Because you are dedicated to the betterment of wizarding society and care so deeply for children that you want to combat the systemic poverty that is so prevalent in Muggleborn witches and wizards in the UK who haven’t had access to a Hogwarts education.”

“Very good.  And James, our involvement in the war?”

“None.  We only meet with Dumbledore regularly for the sake of the foundation.  Other than being against such blatant Pureblood supremacy, we do not care for politics and we remain neutral.”

Lily’s face fell a little. 

“What, did I get the answer wrong?”  James asked, concerned. 

“No, that was perfect.  But James – what are we thinking, bringing a baby into Britain during this crisis?  This all happened so quickly – I thought it would be years before we heard back, and now…”

“It’s only temporary Lils.  We’ll be inactive the whole time we have the baby – remember, Dumbledore promised no missions.  We’ll keep the baby safe until the coast is clear.  This was your idea Lily, but I support it.  We’re doing the right thing.”

Lily pulled herself together.  “Right.” 

Just then, the transportation wizard returned.  “Everything’s sorted.  Your paperwork has been cleared and you should have no trouble with customs.  Are you ready?”

With one quick glance at her husband and Sirius, Lily nodded.  “Yes.  Let’s go.” 

III

All in all, Diedre thought to herself as she was at her desk doing paperwork, it looked as though everything was going to turn out for the best.  Since the time that she had discovered and reported the Winchester baby-to-be, her usually boring job had gotten a bit more exciting.  The rest of her caseload had been given to another Auror and her sole job was the care and protection of said child.  She had been hesitant, at first, as Mary and John seemed like a nice couple.  But she knew all too well how that could change.  To do her assignment well, she’d had to go on a deep dive into the complete family history of the Campbell and Winchester families.  And there had been a lot.  Really, it was a miracle that these two families had come together at all.  If she hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn it had been arranged by angels – because there was simply no other way. 

The Winchesters had a long and illustrious history with the Men of Letters.  Back to when the first ones had come over from Great Britain to the United States.  That explained where the magical blood came from, Diedre supposed.  The British Men of Letters were comprised entirely of Squibs mostly those from important wizarding families.  The American Men of Letters, before they had been wiped out in the 50s, hadn’t been quite as exclusive when they first started as an organization. Still, they wouldn’t accept just anyone.  Once the founding fathers had established themselves, membership was kept quite strictly in bloodlines if at all possible. 

The Campbell family history was the stuff of nightmares.  Diedre thanked Merlin that she was born a witch and not some know-nothing No-Maj.  Demons could not possess anyone with magic flowing in their veins.  If they dared try, their soul would disappear forever – not even returning to Hell, they would just cease to exist entirely.  They didn’t waste their time trying to make deals with natural-born witches or wizards either.  Magic souls could not be bought or traded.  No one really knew why, but the facts were the facts.  And while, during Auror training, Diedre had learned some of what hunters hunted, so hadn’t known the extent of the danger of no-maj supernatural creatures.  It was almost enough to make her want to move to the UK – where the population was strictly under the control the British Men of Letters. 

Of course, even though the male lines of these two clans tended to hold the most excitement and adventure, it was the women who were truly fascinating.  In fact, Millie Winchester had…

There was a knock on the door, pulling Diedre out of her thoughts. 

“Come in,” she called.  The department administrative assistant poked his head in. 

“The Potters are here – do you want to come get them and take them over to Fischer’s office, or would you rather have me escort them there?”

She straightened her robes – which were dressier than normal today, just for this occasion.  The Potters were perfect.  They were young, well off, completely in love, and desperate for a child.  While she had had some reservations about sending this child to a country with a terrorist-at-large, the Potters' application had waylaid those concerns.  It was the top priority that this Purpura Convention child be sent off the continent and as far away from the United States as possible.   

The Potters were too young to be involved and had even pointed out their complete lack of interest in the situation.  All they cared about was each other and their new family.  Plus, the Potter family had a history of successful adoption of this sort, so there were no worries that they would reject the child later.  Albus Dumbledore, famous even in the United States, himself had recommended them.  And while it was true that there weren’t many families to choose from (ok – five total) Diedre still would have picked them out over hundreds of other qualified applicants. 

She was pretty excited to meet them.      

“I’ll come get them – would you please inform Fischer that we are on the way to the conference room?”

“Yes ma’am!"

III

A young black witch, with curly brown hair and gorgeous deep brown eyes entered the lobby.  She actually looked to be around the same age as Lily and himself.  James was doing his very best, “Pureblood” pose of confidence – he hoped it was enough.  He had agreed with and supported Lily 100% on the venture, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t nervous.  After all, it was only temporary, he kept reminding himself.  If he was being honest though – he would follow Lily’s lead completely when it came to something she was passionate about.  They had agreed not to start a family so young and with Voldemort still at large, but he so looked forward to the day that they would start a family. 

Back to the woman.

“Mr. and Mrs. Potter?” she asked. 

“Yes, and you must be Auror Collins – it is a pleasure to meet you,” James replied, shaking the woman’s hand.  “Please, call me James.  This is my wife, Lily, and my best-mate, and godfather-to-be, Sirius Black.” 

She took both their hands in greeting as well.  She did a little bit of a double take at Sirius – clearly finding him attractive.  He winked at her.  James resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Although proudly gay, Sirius never could resist flirting with a pretty woman. 

She regained her composure.  “Right this way.  Auror Fischer, the supervising case manager on this adoption will be meeting us in the conference room.  In the meantime, is there anything our assistant can get for you?  Coffee or water?” 

“No thank you, Auror Collins,” replied Lily, after sending confirming glances to James and Sirius.

“Diedre, please.  And are you sure?” 

“Yes, thank you – although check with us in a couple of hours when the jet lag has set in.” 

The four of them walked the short distance to a small conference room.  In the room was a round table with chairs, as one might expect.  Waiting for them in the room was a middle-aged white wizard, of stocky build and with a graying crew cut – who stood when they entered to shake their hands. 

Pleasantries were exchanged as everyone took their seat.  A short, awkward silence fell over the room.

“Hm, hm,” Auror Fischer said, clearing his throat.  “Thank you all for coming here today and for agreeing to take this baby at such short notice.  This case is the very reason why the Purpura Convention is so important – without the two of you, I’m afraid this child’s life would be in grave danger.” 

James and Lily exchanged glances. 

“Danger, sir?” James asked.

“Yes – mortal danger.  In the past, magical children born to hunters, have rarely made it to adulthood.  Hunters don’t understand our kind of magic – they consider all magic to be unnatural and something to be stamped out or exterminated.  They also are, so to speak, spell-cast first, ask questions later sorts of people.”

This was new information.  Lily had done a lot of research on the Convention itself, and the magic used to enact it but had not actually considered that there could be a sound reason for it all.  Fischer noted the silence. 

“Have either of you ever encountered a hunter before?” 

Lily responded.  “No.  They are quite under control in Britain – positioned under the Men of Letters, who are a department jointly under both the Ministry of Magic and MI5.  Do they not function in the same way under MACUSA?” 

Fischer nodded with understanding.  “Ah, I can see where the misunderstanding comes from.  No, they are not.  MACUSA was formed differently than the No-Maj American government – or rather, they started in the same place, but after the No-Maj Civil War, they consolidated more power in the Federal government.  Slavery has never been legal for witches and wizards in America, and as such, there was no magical civil war.  The commonwealths have retained a certain degree of autonomy and self-governance.”

James could tell that Lily really wished they had learned more about magical countries outside of Britain while at Hogwarts because this all seemed to come as news to her.   

“None of that really pertains to this matter, however.  American hunters are highly volatile and they were never managed under the Men of Letters as they are in the UK.  It is why there is a strong preference for having their children removed from the country, and continent, if at all possible.  It is also why we do not perform memory charms on the parents – as was done traditionally.”

This comment made both Lily and James panic a little – they were counting on the memory charms as a way to return the child.  While they did their best to keep their faces neutral, Sirius stepped into the conversation.

“No memory charm?” he asked.  “James is from a very prominent family – it would be highly embarrassing to himself and his family and all of Great Britain if the family should come looking for the child later.  How do you ensure the safety of their family?”

Hmm, thought James through his panic, Sirius pulls the “Pureblood” card far better than I do.   

“It is actually for the safety of the family that we do not perform the charms,” Fischer said patiently.  It was clear to him that this young couple knew nothing about Hunters in America.  Most people didn’t, so he was not particularly surprised.

 “The forces that hunters here encounter may make it possible for them to uncover memories.  Although most are careful, as they do not have magic, they are susceptible to demonic possession.  Some demons, if they are strong enough, might be able to remove the magic of a memory charm.  And if the hunter community got wind of our operation,” Fischer shuddered “– well, we believe that the safety of the entire wizarding world could be in danger.” 

Lily was the first of the couple to recover from this information.  It was a lot to take in.  “We are clearly unfamiliar with the American process – there was not much literature, so most of my research focused on Italy and the old practices from Britain.  But we are understandably concerned.  How do you convince the parents to give us our child?”  Lily was very careful in her wording – she did not want these American Aurors to guess what the Potters had planned. 

Diedre winced internally.  The truth was awful, but it was necessary.  Fischer gave her a look to indicate that she should answer.  Sexist asshole – thinking the news coming from a woman would be easier to take. 

“Um – No-Majs are not as careful at birth as witches and wizards.  They don’t have them in their homes or in a secure magical ward, they have them at hospitals, where anything can happen really, if you don’t have magic to protect a child.  Until recently, they didn’t even have any way of checking to see if babies were actually theirs.  They use machines to monitor the health of the child.  So, the way this will work is that Mary – I mean the No-Maj woman, will give birth to your child.  We will cast a spell on the baby to make it look like there is a problem.  The baby will be removed from the room to be taken to what they call intensive care, without their parents.  Once the no-maj healers, or doctors, get the baby out of the room, we will memory charm them into believing the baby has died.” 

Lily and James exchanged glances.  “And the Muggles will believe this?” James asked. 

“Yes, they will.  They may ask to see the baby, but that is rare.  If they do, we’ll transfigure an object to look like a deceased infant.  In the meantime, the healthy child will be turned over to their father, in this case, you James, for the adoption ritual.  It’s really quite simple.”

“Alright then,” replied James.  “What paperwork do we need to get started?”

“The baby is due on the 28^th, so we have three days to get everything in order.  Let’s start with your magical records and go from there.”

~*~

James, Lily, and Sirius checked into their hotel suite at the end of the day, exhausted.  There had been a lot of information to digest, and it looked as though their carefully laid plans would have to be changed, so the day was going to be even longer.

They had three days, but really only two now that they had spent most of their day at the MACUSA office.  Tomorrow, they would travel to the state of Kansas and get everything set up for the ritual that would take place immediately after the birth of the child.  The stress and anxiety coming off Lily and James could be felt from three rooms over. 

Sirius decided to take on his usual role – diffusor of tension.  “Alright, baby stealing in just 48 hours.  What’s the Quidditch play?” 

It didn’t help. 

“I think the main question is, after they have been told by someone they trust that their baby has died, how will we get them to accept him or her?  According to the materials they’ve provided us with, in order for the ritual to be complete, with no risk of harm to the baby, the baby will have to be with us for three months.  We knew this – but since we can no longer fake the memory charm, or modify it, as we had planned, how will they believe us?”  Lily said in nearly one, panicked, breath. 

“Woah, Lils,” Sirius started, “I can’t believe that I’m the one saying this, but let’s just take this all one step at a time.  Tomorrow we go to Topeka, right?”  He pronounced the city as Toe-peck-ah.

“It’s pronounced Toe-peek-a Sirius,” James said tiredly, as he flopped into one of the hotel chairs. 

“Whatever.  Tomorrow we will portkey there to their local Auror office?  I don’t understand the American government in the least – you’d think they would be able to do all of this much more centrally.”

“Yes, tomorrow we go and I think it will be another long day of meetings – they are really packing in as much as they can in these three days,”  James replied. 

“Well, you two have to go to meetings all day – me, I’m pretty sure that I can get out of them.  Which means a lot more time – I can do recognizance!  I know that’s usually on Wormtail – but he’s not here, so I will have to do.” 

“This is more than a Marauder prank, Sirius.”  Lily snapped. 

“Yes, yes, of course, Lily, but the structure is what matters.  This is my – well temporary, but still my godchild.  I will be perfectly Sirius.”

Both Lily and James groaned. 

“Alright, that does buy us more time Mr. Padfoot.  What did you have in mind?”  James asked his best friend, feeling slightly less apprehensive about the days to come. 

“Well, first I will take Rosemerta over to Lawrence, then…”

The trio stayed up late into the night going over their plans for the next 48 hours.  By about one in the morning, about five in the morning by GMT, they had a new plan laid out and all three fell into a deep, but uneasy sleep.  There was a lot to be done.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part One: Chapter Three – When Sirius Met John

July, 1980

While there were many things that John loved about Mary, and very few that he did not, one of his favorite things was her commitment to breakfast.  While other families may be sure to always have dinner together, Mary was always convinced that the only way to start the day was to gather around the table over a meal (preferably with bacon).  So, even though she was nine months pregnant and due any day now, she managed to pull herself out of bed before John had to head to work and sat at the table with him for breakfast.  This was his last day of work before the baby was born – a Saturday shift at the garage.  He had gotten up early to pick up breakfast at the local diner, a special treat to commemorate the day only to find that Mary was already at the table, with Dean in a high chair when he walked in. 

“Good morning beautiful,” he said as he walked into the kitchen, kissing her on the forehead in greeting, as he put the food down.  “How’s baby girl Winchester this morning?  Still cozy in her bed?” 

“If you mean baby boy Winchester, then I am happy to report that I think we have a troublemaker brewing.  He’s ready for the world, and is not hesitating to let his momma know.”

“Mama!”  Contributed Dean, happily pointing at his mother. 

John smiled at the baby and reached over to pick him up.  “What do you think little man?” he asked.  “Is that a little Maria that your mom is carrying?  Or John Jr.?” 

“Madamadajo.”  Replied Dean.  Mary and John looked at each other and laughed. 

“That’s right Dean,” Mary said, “this is definitely a boy and we will not be naming him John Jr.  Maybe – Eric for daddy?”

John made a face.  He wasn’t fond of his middle name.  “Dean, always taking your mother’s side.”

The three sat together and enjoyed breakfast, continuing to pleasantly argue over the gender of the baby and possible baby names.  Neither wanted to solidify anything until they saw the newborn – making sure the name would fit. 

John finished his meal and took the dishes to the sink.  “I’ve got to head in – will the two of you be alright?”

Mary smiled, somewhat exhausted over her decaf coffee mug.  “We’ll be fine, dear.  Please, head out.  Give my best to Mike.”

“If you need anything – please call,” John said anxiously.  He was quite concerned that Mary was going to go into labor while he was at work and that he wouldn’t make it home in time.

“Will do.  I can feel it though, this child is stubborn like his father.  He won’t be coming for another couple of days yet.”   

“Alright then – have a good day.  Love you.” 

“Love you too John.” 

John gave both his wife and son kisses and headed out the door. 

III

It had been a pretty quiet morning at the shop when a man, certainly younger than John by a couple of years, drove up in a motorcycle around 10.  He was tall, and lean, with an aristocratic look about him.  He had a face that John would normally classify as “punchable,” if it weren’t for the black leather jacket just barely hiding an AC/DC shirt underneath.  There was just something – cool about him. 

He stayed on the bike – putting one foot down casually to hold himself and the motorcycle up.  “Hey mate,” he said with a British accent, “I’m looking at someone who can check the breaks on good ole’ Rosemerta here for me.  I’ve only been driving her for about half an hour today and she is making some strange sounds.” 

“Certainly – could you just pull her into the garage for me?” 

The man smiled and pulled his bike in.

As John started to inspect the motorcycle, he noticed that the man did not leave.  “You don’t have to wait here if you don’t want to.  There isn’t much to see here, but there’s a nice diner just a couple blocks up the road if you’re hungry.” 

The man hesitated.  “If it’s all the same to you, would you mind if I stayed?  She’s precious to me – I’ve only had her for a couple of years, so I’m trying to learn to do some maintenance on my own, figure I could learn by watching.

John shrugged, “Sure.  Name’s John, by the way, are you a student at the University of Kansas?  I thought that it was summer break now.”

The man blinked.  “I’m Sirius, Sirius Black,” he said, shaking John’s hand.  “No, I’m not a student, I’m just here in the States with some friends for a couple of weeks.  We’re staying up in Topeka and I decided to take a break for the morning and go for a drive.” 

“Oh.  What brings you to Kansas then?  I’m not sure why anyone from overseas would visit Topeka.” 

Sirius gave a bark of a laugh.  “I was wondering that myself, but my friend Lily – married to my best mate James, really wanted to see the center of the country.  She’s big on getting out of tourist spots and off the beaten path.  It’s been a… different sort of holiday so far.” 

Although John was not one for a lot of words, he and this man seemed to have a lot in common – from everything from the inner workings of this motorcycle to the bands they liked to listen to.  And there was something wrong with the breaks, but it was an easy enough fix, it was just going to take a little bit of time.   The two of them fell into an easy conversation and John felt like this was someone he could easily grab a beer with. 

Around noon, John looked up from the motorcycle and saw Mary, for lack of a better word, waddling into the shop, Dean on her hip.  He immediately went over and took Dean from her arms. 

“Is everything alright?  Is it the baby?  Why didn’t you call?” 

Mary laughed.  “Everything is just fine – including the baby, although I have been peeing about every three minutes all day.  You forgot your lunch, and I didn’t want you to go hungry.” 

“Thank you.  But you should be resting,” he chided.  Mary ignored him and looked around the shop, noticing the handsome young man over by the motorcycle John had been working on. 

“Who’s that?”  She asked.  It was rare to have a stranger in the shop.  Sirius, who had been trying to casually avoid her gaze, smiled faintly. 

“Oh, that’s Sirius,” John replied, “it’s his bike I’m working on.  Sirius, why don’t you come over here and meet my wife and son?” 

Sirius stood up from where he was seated on the ground (previously having been working with John) and walked over. 

“Mary, this is Sirius Black, a visitor from England.  Sirius, this is my wife Mary, and this handsome young man is my son, Dean.” 

Dean looked at Sirius with big eyes.  John expected him to bury his head in John’s shoulder, as he normally did these days around strangers, but instead, he reached his arms out for Sirius to hold him.  Sirius exchanged looks with Mary and John and, after getting silent confirmation, took Dean into his arms.  He smiled. 

“Why you are quite the handsome young man Mr. Dean.  It’s nice to meet you, Mary.  When is the baby due?”

Mary glared at him.  “Why do you assume I’m pregnant?  I didn’t think I’d gained that much weight recently – John, you tell this man that I’m just still carrying my baby weight from Dean.” 

“Err, well, you just have… I mean… you look great…um….” Sirius spluttered, wondering if somehow, he had wasted half a day on the wrong couple.  Mary let him flounder, fluster for a moment or two before laughing and grinning at the young man. 

“I was just kidding.  I mean, look at me!  I’m about to pop any moment now.  My due date is in two days, but if he’s anything like the one in your arms, he’ll be stubborn and won’t make an appearance until next week.”

Sirius joined in her laughter, always one to appreciate a good joke.  “Another boy then?” he asked casually. 

“That’s what she thinks,” John said, “we don’t know yet – I think it’s going to be a girl.” 

“Never disagree with your wife John – if I’ve learned anything from my friend James, it is that Lily is always right.  Actually, I learned that she was always right at about age 11 when we first met.”

“I like your new friend John.  He seems full of good ideas.  How long do you think his bike will take?” 

“Uh – shouldn’t take past the end of my shift at 5.  Gotta get this man back out on the road.” 

“Great.  Sirius, would you like to have dinner with us tonight?”  There was something – intriguing about this man that Mary wanted to uncover.  She had never seen Dean warm up to a stranger in this way (he was still being held by Sirius, just kind of looking at him with wonder.)  She didn’t sense a threat in him, but still, there was…something. 

Sirius was surprised.  He had heard that Americans were friendly, but he wasn’t expecting this friendly.  Lily and James would be thrilled.  “I wouldn’t want to impose…” he said, looking to John, not sure how he would feel about a house guest. 

“No imposition,” said John, even though he was surprised by the invite.  Mary tended to be a little more cautious around people they didn’t know.  “It’s pizza night anyhow – the more the merrier.” 

“Great, then I would be honored.” 

Mary smiled again.  She took Dean from Sirius and gave John a peck on the cheek.  “Good.  Well, I should be on my way now – let you boys get back to work.  I will see you tonight.” 

III

Sirius returned to the hotel in Topeka late – around 10:30 at night.  It had been a long day.  And, of course, as soon as he had keyed into the room, James and Lily were on him. 

“Sirius!” Exclaimed Lily.  “Where have you been?  We’ve been so worried!  James said that you weren’t answering your mirror and we spent so much of today hearing about how dangerous hunters are – we were about to come to find you.” 

“Well I could hardly answer my mirror when I was with the Muggles Lils – I had to leave it on my bike.” 

Lily’s eyes got wide.  “You met them?”

“Yes, I did.  They’re…”

“How were they?  Did they seem nice?  Do you think they’ll be good parents?  Oh, our file only has a minimal amount of information.  There is so much I want to know,” Lily interrupted.  “Also – is that a black eye?  Are you alright?” 

“Lily – let him speak!  Padfoot – what happened?  Do you need some ice?”  James entered a protective mood – no one hit his best mate and got away with it.  Not on his watch. 

Sirius laughed exhaustively as he plopped down on the sofa.  “Ice would be great, but I’m fine.  Honestly, I deserved it.  I told them.  Well, I told John.”

Utter silence followed this announcement.  Things were happening so quickly – everyone involved felt like they were in over their heads. 

As usual, Lily gained her senses back the soonest.  “Why don’t you start at the beginning, and James, summon some ice for his face.”  Her voice was calmer than it had been earlier, but there was still underlying anxiety. 

“Make that some ice and a whiskey Prongs,” Sirius replied before he proceeded to tell them about his day.  How he had tampered with the breaks on his beloved ‘Merta and stopped in the shop, where they had been told John worked.  It was the policy of MACUSA to give as little information as possible about the birth family of the child.  They didn’t want any attachment to form.  Lily and James had been forbidden any contact with the parents as part of upholding their end of the adoption agreement.  Always ones for loopholes, they were able to send Sirius today. 

“You’d like John, James.  If he weren’t a Muggle, he’d’ve fit right in with us at Hogwarts.  And Mary – she has a wicked sense of humor and is as sharp as can be.  She could tell there was something amiss, I know she could, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.  And their son, Dean – ”     

“They already have a son?”  James asked. 

“Yeah, they do,” Sirius smiled.  “A charmer for sure – going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up.  He has blonde hair and green eyes.  His eye color is very similar to yours Lily, maybe a shade off.  And the dimples.  I gotta tell you guys, if their next kid is anything like their next one, you will have custody of one cute child.” 

“Do they know the gender?  Can Muggles even find out in advance?” James asked.  This was another annoying point to the adoption agreement, probably stemming back to a preference for male heirs.  Even though the gender could be found out almost immediately by a mediwizard, the adopters couldn’t know the gender of the child in advance. 

“They can James – although it’s not terribly common,” Lily replied, always happy to fill her husband in on the finer points of Muggle knowledge.  He had taken Muggle Studies, but most of it didn’t stick. 

“They don’t know.  They both have their theories though.  John is convinced it’s a girl while Mary insists it’s another boy.” 

To James, this was happy news.  He had always wanted a sibling to grow up with.  Of course, once he had met Sirius, he knew what it was to have a brother, but it would have been nice to have one earlier.  For Lily, it added a dimension of complication.  Siblings could be tricky – hers certainly was. 

She had one important question, that she couldn’t have asked otherwise, “Are they good parents?” 

“Excellent,” Sirius replied.  “They clearly love Dean and the new addition already.  And I think they will do whatever it takes to protect their family, I don’t think they will be of any danger to their children, magical or Muggle.  And I have the black eye to prove it – that John packs a punch.” 

“He took it that well, did he?” James asked. 

“Oh yeah – if it hadn’t been for my magic, he might have been able to stop me from leaving.  I was going to tell him everything.  About witches and wizards and hunters.  But he didn’t know anything about hunters at all – it must come from Mary’s side of the family.  So, I just told him the baby was in danger of being kidnapped by people who wouldn’t return the child.  I told him about the two of you, and how you were the best people in the world and that the baby will want for nothing for its first three months of life with you.  That he or she would be returned happy and healthy.  I tried to get him to agree – I tried to get him to see our side of things, but the second I threatened his family he would have none of it.   He called me a son-of-a-bitch and hit me with his left hook.  Of course, he was right, my mother is a bitch, and he was only trying to do his best for his family.  I shot him with a stunner and set up the passcode, image-activated memory charm.  It’s not as good as if you would have performed it Lily, but it should hold.  It might be best that it’s not me that brings the kid back – for my own safety.”  Sirius finished his drink.     

“Well, I’m knackered,” Sirius said heavily – feeling the alcohol, even though it was just the Muggle stuff.  “I have a feeling Lils has a full day planned for us tomorrow.  Why don’t we head to bed.”

Lily looked like she wanted to question Sirius further, but James shot her a look.  He could tell that his best friend was emotionally spent.  And so was he.  And with a baby on the way, he knew that the three of them needed to get some rest while they could. 

“Good night Sirius,” Lily said as she and James headed to their bedroom. 

“Night,” he replied – off for another night of very restless sleep.

III

If it weren’t for her commitment to doing the right thing, the day before the child’s birth would have convinced Lily to run, far, far away from this situation.  The ritual for the adoption was kept on a need-to-know basis, for you know, barmy Pureblood reasons, she supposed.  Sometimes, she swore that wizards just made up rules for the sake of being mysterious and otherworldly.  Really, there should be more logic here. 

The ritual was very high-level magic, something that normally would have excited Lily, who never tired of more advanced subjects, but she happily could have lived the rest of her life without learning this particular form of magic.  It was barbaric. 

There was a reason that only the father was required to take custody of the child.  First, he had the right to choose not to make the child the blood offspring of his wife.  He could pick the woman who was actually giving birth, or, if he happened to like his wife a whole lot, he could pick another woman entirely.  This woman would be of pureblood stock (the old wizard who had explained this all to the Potters tried to not-so-subtly suggest to James that even though his wife wasn’t a pureblood, it didn’t mean that he had to disadvantage his child-to-be in the same way), but often the husband would pick a woman who perhaps needed some money for her family or was disgraced in a way that would not allow her to marry when these sorts of procedures were more regular. 

Of course, James wouldn’t dream of the latter option.  Mostly because Lily knew where he slept at night.

At the end of the day, it was not the past that mattered, it was the present.  And quite frankly, the present was rubbish. 

There was a reason that this child would also be the genetic and magical offspring and Lily and James.  Both were required to give – samples to this endeavor.  For James, it was pretty easy, one might even say a pleasurable experience.  For Lily, it led to about an hour lying down on an exam table while she was prepped and her eggs “harvested.”  It was not pleasurable. 

From there, a magical “womb” was created that the baby would be placed in as shortly after birth as possible.  Thankfully, it was external, but for some reason (Lily was fairly certain that this reason was that a man created this ritual) that womb would be magically connected to Lily’s womb.  (“If one more person says the word WOMB to me, I am going to hex them,” Lily had said in frustration to James at a mid-point in the day.) 

This meant that during the 48 required hours that the baby would spend in this magically created womanly anatomy, Lily would physically feel 9 months pregnant.  She would experience the hormones, and even worse, she would experience the birth pains. 

That’s right.  When she had signed on to this, none of her research had indicated, and no one told her that she would essentially, in all the painful ways that counted, be giving birth to a child.  A human child.  Alas, they were too far into this process to stop it now, consequences be damned.  But this would put her out of Order work for at least three weeks after they returned to Britain. 

Lily and James were meant to spend the rest of the day, after the horrors of the morning, making the practical arrangements for the child.  Magical passport, identity documents, and the like.  Boring details.  But just as they were going back to the ministry outpost building, Diedre greeted them at the front desk.

“James, Lily, I’m so happy you are back.  It’s time – Mary Winchester has gone into labor!”

“What?” They asked together.  She was a full day early. 

“Mary Winchester has gone into labor – James we have to get you to the hospital right away, for the ritual to work, you have to present at both births.  Lily, I’m afraid that you are going to have to stay here, near the ritual rooms to wait for the baby.”

Lily knew this, of course, but it still shocked her.  James turned to Lily.  “Will you be alright?” he asked.

“Yes, yes go,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.  “I’ll send a Patronus to Sirius and he’ll come help me with the rest of the work today.  You keep the mirror on you – yes?  Be sure to check in with us.”

“Yeah, of course.  I’ll see you soon – with a baby.”  There was a moment of silence where the couple just looked at each other with shock. 

“James, please, it’s time to go,” Diedre said after as long as she could take it. 

“Yes, yes, of course.  Love you, Lily.”

“Love you too James!” 

And he was off.  Lily sent a quick message to Sirius, who was at her side within minutes. 

“It’s time then?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so.  James just left for the hospital.  I have to say – while I imagined children sometime in our future, I never in my wildest dreams thought it would go like this.”

“Yeah, mean neither, but I can’t wait to meet baby Prongs. What do we have to work on?”

“Follow me – they have us set up in a room over here.  Sirius, you’re going to help me choose a name.”

He and Lily headed to the empty office where the couple had been assigned to do paperwork. 

“Alright, what do you think?  James and I have decided, even though it’s only temporary, that we should give the child a proper Potter name.  But we also have to decide on a muggle name – it is quite a bit of responsibility.  You’ve had family history drilled into your head just as much as James had, what do you think?”

“Well, in the wise words of your husband, I do think that you should consider Elvendork – it’s unisex, so we wouldn’t have to come up with separate names for it’s a boy or a girl,” Sirius said cheekily. 

Lily looked at him for a second before bursting into laughter. 

“That would be something James would suggest,” she chuckled.  “But probably not best in the long run.  Here, I convinced our MACUSA social worker to give us a family tree of the Winchesters and Campbells to help with the naming process.  James and I want to try and choose a name that they will be happy with when they get the baby back.  Did they give you any indication of what they were thinking?”

“They didn’t – I’m sorry.  But their son’s name is Dean – can you tell if they picked it randomly or if that was a family name?” 

Lily took out the Winchester/Campbell family tree and muttered a quick spell to make it large and stuck it to the side of the room so she and Sirius could both look at it.  “Ah, I see.  Mary’s mother’s name was Deanna – it probably comes from there.  How about – if it’s a girl, Samantha?  That is sort of a feminine name of Mary’s father – Samuel.”

“Interesting that they chose Mary’s mother’s name.  It’s similar to Mr. Potter being named Fleamont – after his mother’s maiden name.  Campbell if it’s a boy?”

Lily scrunched up her nose.  “That’s a terrible name, no.  Maybe we should look at the father’s side since the firstborn was named after her mother’s side?” 

Sirius gave a nod of agreement. “Oh look, John’s father’s name was Henry.  Just like James’ grandfather.  He went by Harry though, most of the time.” 

Lily looked thoughtful.  “I like that idea – honoring both families in both names.  For his Muggle name, he can be Henry John Winchester.  For his wizard name, he can be Harry James Potter.” 

“And for a girl?”

Lily was hesitant.  “If Mary thinks it’s a boy, it probably is with a woman’s intuition and all.  But we could do something similar.  Millie is all that is listed for John’s mother.  For a Muggle name, she could be Millie Mary Winchester.  For a witch's name, she could be Mildred Marigold Potter.  My great-grandmother’s name was Mildred and my mother was Marigold.  I hate lilies – so I’d prefer not to use my name!” 

“I like it, we make a great team Lily.  In either case – it won’t be too confusing for the child to have a slight name change.  Especially once he or she goes to school.  If the child wants – they could claim their Halfblood parentage to make their lives easier.  I know you had a tough time as a Muggleborn.” 

“The last time you said we were a great team was when we were paired for that potions project together in 5^th year.  And then, as in now, I did most of the work.” 

“Exactly, Lils, a team that works perfectly,” he winked.  “What now?”

“Well, that should have taken a bit longer.  How about we sneak out and start on some of the Muggle paperwork?  This baby is going to need a passport and other legal documentation that MACUSA simply hasn’t thought of.  We can start all the paperwork for both names, just in case and from there…”

“Alright, I’ll follow your lead Lily,” Sirius interrupted.  “You just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Ah yes, the quality I like best in a man…”

III

James was bored.  Lily’s hourly check-ins had been a great source of amusement, but after hours in the muggle hospital, he was a bit starved for entertainment.  Starved enough that he had even allowed Diedre, who was stuck there with him, to describe the finer points of Quadpot, which seemed like a poor man’s Quidditch.  He had arrived at the hospital around 1:30 in the afternoon and it was just after midnight now.  Which went to show that wizard due dates could not be beaten.  He was dozing off in his chair when Diedre roused him. 

“James – it’s official, she’s been moved to the delivery room.  You have your cloak on you?” 

The original plan was to have James in scrubs, pretending to be an observing doctor or nurse, but he had told Diedre that he had an invisibility cloak, that would make all of this easier. 

“I do.  Which room is it again?”

“17B – it’s small, so be careful.  And be sure to…”

“Yes, yes, I know the spell to perform.  I’m on my way.  By the way – I think you may be right.  Coffee is better than tea.  But don’t you dare tell another British person I said so.  I’ll deny it.” 

Diedre laughed through her own exhaustion.  It had been a long five months, and she only needed to make it another couple of hours. 

“Of course, James – quick, you don’t want to miss it.”

James slipped on his cloak and dashed in the door of 17B just behind a doctor, so his entrance wouldn’t be noticed.  Mary had been in labor for almost 11 hours.  James felt bad – he knew that Lily would have to endure the same.  He had never been in a Muggle (or magical, as it were) delivery room before.  It was fascinating to see all the machines that were beeping.  He was quite astonished by Muggle technology. 

John Winchester stood at the top of the bed, cradling Mary’s head.  “Remember Mary, push, breath, push,” he said. 

If looks could kill, John Winchester would have died in a flash of green light.  She was too busy concentrating on the baby to respond, but the message was clear, and John backed off a bit. 

“Push, Mary, push!” The doctor encouraged.  With a great big breath, Mary did just that and James watched with morbid fascination, and a baby’s head – covered in dark brown hair, started to emerge from – well, Lily wasn’t here, so he could think, Mary’s womb. 

The whole baby came out shortly after.  “It’s a boy!” The doctor announced once he had cleaned off…down there.  James was elated.  He always wanted a boy.  He was so happy that he almost forgot, but, at the last second remembered.

James took out his wand, “Falsissimum est cor impetum,” he muttered as quietly as he could.  All of a sudden, the Muggle doctor was in a frenzy. 

“We’ve got to get him to the NICU!” The man shouted as nurses rushed the baby away, the doctor with them. 

“What's wrong?” Mary asked, “Where is my baby?”  This was her second delivery – she had expected to hear a baby’s cry, but instead, there was nothing. 

John was beside himself.  “They just took him, Mary, he wasn’t crying.”

Mary started to cry.  “But where are they taking him?”

“I don’t know sweetie – you did great,” James could tell the man was trying, but failing to hide his concern. 

“John, I’m scared – follow them.  I don’t trust them with my baby!”

This didn’t make a lot of sense to John – they were in the best hospital in the area.  But he wasn’t one to ignore his desperate wife. 

“I’ll follow.  The nurses will take care of you, I’m sure the baby is fine.” 

“Please, John, please bring me my baby!” 

As John started to exit the room, James moved to follow, however as John was trying to leave, the doctor entered.  It hadn’t been but two minutes. 

“Where is the baby, doctor?” John asked frantically, not seeing his son. 

The doctor had a very serious look on his face.  He hated this part of his job.  “Mary, John, I’m afraid the baby didn’t make it.  I am so sorry for your loss.”

“NOOO!” screamed Mary, just as James went to leave the room.  “You’re LYING.  You bring him back, you bring me my baby.”

That’s all James could bear to hear.  He went off the end of the corridor, where he knew Diedre and the healer would be waiting for him.  He had to remind himself that this was temporary, their pain was temporary, and they would have their baby back soon enough. 

Mary’s cries continued.  James felt some tears slip down his cheeks.  It would be alright, he tried to say to her silently, it would be alright. 

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part One: Chapter Four – Love and Prophecy

August, 1980

Henry John Winchester was born on July 28^th, 1980. 

Harry James Potter was born on July 31^st, 1980.   

Two names, two birthdays, and two nationalities for one little boy.  Even though they had a small window to get everything done – Lily, James, and Sirius had checked off every item on their list to prepare for this child.  He had full American records of his birth and an American passport – all filed with the Muggles.  He also had full British and magical records, including a wizarding passport and a Muggle British one.  The memory spell had been set.  It would take three months for his magical core to stabilize after the adoption, but they already had the plane tickets booked to bring him back. 

There was, of course, one thing that the couple hadn’t accounted for.  After the painful and weird “re-birth,” the two of them had looked at him and fallen completely.  They loved him.  Not in the way they had expected.

James adored children, especially babies, so he expected the warm fuzzy feeling he got whenever he got to hold and interact with a child.  But this was more.  This baby was his – his son, his perfectly formed, beautiful son.  There was nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for this child. 

Lily, who had less experience with babies, and less of a fondness for children in general, had thought that she would look at this baby and be proud of her commitment to do the right thing.  Sure, the baby would be cute, she had thought, but she wouldn’t let herself get attached.  That changed the second she was allowed to hold the child in her arms.  Never had she felt such a connection with anyone – not her parents, not James, and certainly not her sister.  There was nothing in this world she wouldn’t do for this child – and that included giving him back to his rightful family. 

He was a perfect combination of all four parents.  He was born with soft, brown hair.  After the ritual, the wisps of hair became a full head of it.  It was a shade darker than it had been – not quite matching James’ inky black hair, but only a little off.  His eyes – blue at birth, like all babies, changed quicker than normal.  At three days old, they were already turning green.  Slightly brighter than Mary’s, Lily was guessing, but not quite as bright as her own.  Sirius said that his nose was just like baby Dean’s, but his smile was all James.  None of them would change a single thing about him. 

After the adoption ritual, and checking to make sure that Lily and James would be alright, Sirius returned to England ahead of his friends under the guise of getting the house ready.  It was just to give the two time to bond with Harry. 

The seven days after the adoption ritual were spent still in the United States, finishing up the legal process and having regular checkups with a social worker and a mediwizard.  It was not common for things to go wrong, but if they did, it would oftentimes be in the first week or so. 

It was on the final day, before heading home, and James and Lily entered the MACUSA office building for the last time.  Harry was fast asleep in his buggy.  The route was familiar now – they only stopped by the front desk for a couple of seconds to extend a friendly, “Hello,” to the man sitting there and to confirm where they needed to go next. 

Diedre, Fischer, the social worker, and the mediwizard were already in the (now enlarged) conference room waiting for the couple.  Hugs were exchanged – it was quite amazing how friendly these Americans were and how quickly Lily and James felt that they were friends. 

“Alright, alright, everyone, have a seat,” Fischer said, to put an end to the greetings and small talk.  Everyone obeyed.  “I have an official script that I need to follow for this meeting.  Diedre – is the dictaquill ready?”

“Yes, it is,” she replied. 

“And does everyone in the room confirm that they are aware that the rest of this meeting will be recorded by said dictaquill and that they consent to this recording?  I do need a verbal confirmation from each of you.”

“Yes, I confirm,” came one by one from each adult in the room.  Baby Harry was still sleeping peacefully. 

“Very good.  We’ll start with Mediwizard Kendrick.  Mediwizard Kendrick, do you confirm that the baby present is indeed, Harry James Potter, born July 31^st, 1980?”

“I do,” replied the jovial mediwizard. 

“And will you state, for the record, the condition of the child?”

“Yes, of course.  Harry is in perfect health.  His magical core is stabilizing well, and perhaps is even advanced for a baby that is only a week old.” 

“From what you have observed from the parents, Lily and James, capable and willing to properly look after the health of the child?”

“Yes, they certainly are,” he said, smiling.

“Good.  Now onto the social worker, Mrs. Thompson,” Fischer continued, turning to an elderly witch with silver hair.

“Mrs. Thompson, have you completed the required interviews and social visits to Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s temporary place of residence?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And have you reviewed the documentation, including pictures of their home in England, character references from their friends and family, and a summary of bank accounts for both the parents and the child Harry?” 

“Yes, and I have concluded that all is in order and that Lily and James – I mean Mr. and Mrs. Potter, will be excellent parents.”

“Alright.  Lastly, Auror Collins.  Auror Collins, can you please confirm, for the record, that Mr. and Mrs. Potter have followed both the spirit and the letter of the law in all of these proceedings?”

This was the only question Lily and James were nervous about.  They felt like this was the moment of truth and they did their very best to school their faces neutral. 

“I do confirm.  I have full confidence that the Potters are exactly the kind of family perfect for this adoption.”

“And that completes the requirements of all of you.  Dictaquill, please note that all outside parties have found the parents acceptable, and they will now verbally agree to the terms and conditions of the adoption, Mr. Potter, you will respond to a series of statements and questions, either confirming or denying them.”

James nodded his head in agreement and then he remembered, “Yes, thank you, I understand.”  So official.

“Mr. Potter, do you confirm that the child, Harry James Potter, is your son, and legal heir.”

“I confirm.”

“Do you confirm that you will nurture his magic and educate him to the very best of your abilities?”

“I confirm.”

“Do you confirm that you will not tell him of his first parentage until there is such a time that he can understand?”

“I confirm.” (James wouldn’t be telling him anything – he’d leave that to John and Mary.)

“Do you confirm that you will not bring Harry James Potter to the United States of America or any of its territories until he is of age and capable of magically defending himself?”

“I confirm.” (Sirius would be the one to bring him back.)

“Do you confirm that should you have any further children that Harry James Potter will not lose his status as your heir or as your child?”

“I confirm.”

“And lastly, do you confirm that this adoption is not being done for personal financial gain.”

“I confirm.”

“Very good.  End the recording.  Congratulations Lily and James, this adoption is officially legal!” 

There was a small smattering of applause and smiles all around.  Diedre had tears in the corner of her eyes – she was so happy for the baby and Lily and James.  She was proud of the work she had done, but she couldn’t say that she was going to miss it.  Fischer had said that if this went well, there could be a promotion in it for her.  She hoped so – she wasn’t sure that she could face the Winchesters again after this. 

“Lily, James, we got you a small gift – for Harry, because we are just so pleased for you all.”  Diedre handed over a small box, wrapped in baby blue wrapping paper with a dark blue bow on top.

Lily beamed.  “That’s so sweet!”  She reached for the box and opened it.  It was a small, dark blue onesie with the Ilvermorny crest on it.  James and Lily exchanged quick glances – did Diedre know?  Was she trying to signal that she understood? 

“A small memento – my mom picked it up at a tourist shop, she said that British witches and wizards go crazy for Ilvermorny stuff.” 

That calmed down the couple.  “It’s perfect,” said James. 

And with that, everything was complete.  It was time to head back to England.

III

The cool dampness of a British summer did not seem so bad after returning from the hot, humid, swamp that was Philadelphia.  Not that Lily and James hadn’t enjoyed seeing the United States.  But it was nice to be home.

Also, after having lived in hotel suites for a couple of weeks, Potter Manor seemed particularly luxurious.  It also came with the added benefit of a house elf to help care for the baby.  Because it came to pass, Harry was a lot of work. 

This would not have come as quite a shock if the Potters had prepared traditionally for a child, although no new parent ever really knows what they are getting themselves into.  They had gone, almost overnight, from doing a moderate amount of work for the Order, and otherwise having a lot of free time to spend time with friends or doing whatever they liked, to life with a newborn.  They had a life that was entirely dependent on them, and it was exhausting. 

But still, this was the happiest time of both of their lives.  Every day they grew more and more in love with baby Harry.  Every accomplishment was a huge celebration.  His first smile, his first laugh, even his first bout of hiccoughs.  They were enchanted. 

About two and a half months after they brought Harry home, they were finally able to find time for their closest friends to come over and celebrate.  They didn’t tell their friends that this was a celebration of the time that Harry had spent with them – which was rapidly coming to a close. 

Remus, per usual, was the first to arrive, promptly at noon.  He stepped out of the fireplace and brushed off his robes.

Lily hurried over to him and pulled him into a big hug. 

“Remus, it’s so good to see you – it’s been too long.  Whatever happened to our weekly dinners?  We’ve missed you.  Ok, well I’ve missed you.  With both you and Peter absent from our lives, I’ve been the only one here to try and bring Sirius and James to heel.  And I’m a mother now, I hardly have the time!” 

Remus laughed and returned the hug.  “I’m here now Lils.  I think I’m quite done with missions for at least a month.  Now, where is this young man I’ve heard so much about?”

Right at that moment, Sirius bounded into the room as Padfoot and went to greet Remus.  But not really knowing (ok, he knew, but he ignored) his strength, he knocked Remus straight back and onto the floor, giving him licks on the face. 

“Padfoot…ugh...Padfoot…this is quite undignified…gerrof me,” even with the protests, the werewolf couldn’t help but crack up under the enthusiastic greeting from his friend. 

“Padfoot!” James said sternly, but quietly, as he walked into the room with Harry in his arms.  “We’ve talked about this.  If you’re going to attack Remus, you have to wait for Pete and I.  It’s hardly fair that you get all the torture time after he’s been off on his important missions for so long.” 

Padfoot whined a little and got off Remus, shifting back into a man.  He held out an arm to help his friend off the floor. 

“Moony!  You look terrible,” he said, observing the other man’s weary features. 

“Thanks, Pads,” Remus said dryly.  “Tactful as always.”

“I know just the thing,” Sirius said with the utmost confidence.  He plucked Harry out of James’ arms (“Hey!” said James) and held the baby out to Remus.  “Here, have a baby.” 

Remus looked at Harry as if he were some sort of foreign object.  He didn’t immediately reach out to take the offered child, but instead, threw anxious glances at Lily and James. 

“Err, Padfoot, I’m not sure…” 

Before he could finish his protests, Sirius had forcibly placed the baby in a way that Remus had no choice but to take him. 

“Harry,” Sirius said, “This is your Uncle Remus, or Uncle Moony if you’d prefer.  He’s a little bit silly sometimes, but you’ll come to love him.  Not as much as me, of course, but you’ll love him all the same.” 

“Wow,” Remus breathed.  Harry was just barely awake.  He blinked slowly at Remus, as if in a daze, only to give a big yawn, snuggle in closer, and fall fast asleep.  Remus felt a surge of protectiveness.  Oh, he hadn’t been expecting the wolf in him to react this way. 

“See Remus,” Lily said, “he already loves you.  As if we would have any concern with you holding him.” 

The doorbell rang. 

“Oh, that must be Frank and Alice with baby Neville.  I’ll go get it,” Lily said. 

Just as she was leaving the door to answer it, the fireplace roared again.  

She heard Sirius behind her exclaim, “Pete!” before she got to the front of the house.  She opened the door, and sure enough, there were her only “couple” friends and their child, either slightly older or slightly younger than Harry, depending on what birth date she was going by.  Boy, did she have a lot to talk to them about. 

“Frank, Alice, it’s so good to see you both,” she said greeting them each with a quick peck on the cheek.  “Please, come in.”

They did.  There was a loud explosion of laughter from the sitting room.

“Ah, so everyone else is already here then?” Frank asked, recognizing the chaos that went with all four of the Marauders being in the same room. 

“Yes, indeed.  I was just about to check on lunch, so please head in there and tell the “men” that lunch is almost ready and they should head into the dining room.  And Alice, I have a crib all set up for the boys.  I can’t wait for them to meet each other, they are going to be fast friends, I just know it.”

The two women went off to the kitchen.  Frank laughed a little to himself.  Lily was a notoriously bad cook, so if she was checking on lunch, the Potter’s house elf, Holly, must have done the preparations. 

“Give my best to Holly,” he said knowingly as he headed in to see his friends.

III

Lunch was lovely, of course.  It was a golden afternoon spent with friends.  Lily’s heart was so full.  The best part of having such close friends, she thought, is that it never seems to matter how long we’ve been apart, it’s always as if we’ve never grown up or apart. 

After they had filled their friend in on a (superficial) version of events of what happened in the US with Harry’s adoption and the “rebirthing,” ceremony (something Peter seemed particularly interested in, for some odd reason), they had managed to switch the topic of conversation to Remus’ recent missions with werewolves on the continent.  Remus was a fantastic storyteller and had them all on the edge of their seats – again, especially Peter who seemed interested in the greatest amount of minutia.  ‘Ah,’ though Lily, ‘he’s probably living vicariously through Remus, he’s not been able to get out much, with his mother so sick.’

It was nearly 5 o’clock when the fireplace lit up again.  Dumbledore stepped through.  He looked very solemn and Lily knew that meant the party was over.     

“Ah, good evening everyone, please pardon the interruption,” he said.  “I don’t mean to intrude, but I was hoping that I could have a private conversation with Lily and James?” 

There was a collective “Yes, Professor Dumbledore,” from the assembled group.  Just as if they were still at Hogwarts. 

Everyone gathered themselves together and took off, one by one.  Sirius, who practically lived at Potter Manor, despite having a house of his own, lingered a minute after everyone else had left. 

“Mr. Black, you too, I’m afraid.  This is a very private matter.” 

Sirius exchanged a glance with James.  He nodded his approval.  “We’ll fill you in later Pads.  Why don’t you go put Harry down for his nap?”  Sirius agreed, taking Harry from Lily as he headed upstairs. 

“Should we go into the office, Professor?” James asked.  “Would you like anything?  Tea or coffee?” 

“Yes, that would be most appropriate.  I believe your grandfather put some very strong privacy wards on the door.  And last I remember visiting, Holly made the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had – do you think she would be willing?" 

“Of course.  Holly?”  Lily requested.  Holly popped into the room. 

“Yes, Lily?” (Lily had insisted that they be on a first-name basis.)

“Would you mind terribly getting some hot chocolate for the Professor and tea for James and me in the study?”

“Of course, coming up!” Holly said and popped away. 

The three of them settled themselves in the office – which had once been James’ father’s private study.

As soon as they had, Lily asked, “What’s going on Professor?  Is something wrong with the Order?  It’s just a couple of weeks until it will be time for Harry to go back to the States.  I know we’ve been a bit preoccupied with him recently, but we’ll be back full-time very soon.” 

“Of course, you’ve had to put Harry first,” Dumbledore replied.  “I am still overwhelmed by both of your amazing capacities to help another family in this way.  I’m afraid that I have some grim news for you.  Gideon and Fabian Prewett have been killed by Deatheaters.”

“Oh no!” Lily gasped just as James exclaimed, “No!” 

“Poor Molly,” Lily continued.  The twins had been in their sixth year when Lily and James had just started Hogwarts, so they hadn't known them well while at school.  Through their work with the Order, though, they had gotten to know and love them men.  On top of being talented wizards and assets to the Order, they were always quick with a joke and kind to everyone around them.  This was a great loss. 

“We’re so sorry to hear that Professor,” James said, as Lily seemed to be incapable of speech at the moment.  “What can we do to help?  I’m sure Sirius would have…”

Dumbledore cut James off with a wave of his hand.  “Of course, the whole Order will be informed and we will have a memorial in their honor.  However, this tragedy has made it clear that there is a traitor in our midst.  Their location was highly classified, the only people who knew of their mission were members.” 

“You can’t possibly think…” James started.

“I don’t know who it is,” Dumbledore cut in again.  “I only know that it is certainly not the two of you – you were both abroad the week of the meeting with the details.  The last week that you spent in America.  You’ve both been so busy, that we haven’t had a chance to catch you up on all Order business.  The death of the Prewett twins is tragic, but I’m afraid this also means that it is very likely that Voldemort now knows about Harry.”

Dead silence. 

Dumbledore continued, “We discussed his adoption and what the ritual might be like at the last meeting.  That information may have severe consequences.  I didn’t tell you before – Frank and Alice are aware, but there is a prophecy.”  He went on to detail the contents. 

Lily and James were shocked.  “But surely, since he wasn’t born to us, he can’t qualify?”  Lily asked. 

“Prophecy is a strange thing, my dear.  The ritual itself is a bit of a ‘rebirth’ is it not?  But all the other criteria fit.  You have defied Voldemort three times and Harry was born at the end of July.”

“But that has to fit more than just Harry, surely?” James asked. 

“It does indeed.  Neville Longbottom is another possible candidate.  As I said before, Frank and Alice have been informed.  You see, I have recently learned that Voldemort has also heard a small fraction of the prophecy.  I’m not sure how much or which part, but it seems that he has set his eyes on both you and the Longbottoms.”

“What does that mean?” Lily asked. 

“It means that I believe it would be wisest for you to go into hiding.  I am going to suggest the same to Frank and Alice when I meet with them tomorrow.  I do not advise that you follow your original plan.  Harry's birth parents would not be able to offer him the same protection that you can.  And if Voldemort were to find out about them…”

“He might go after their family too.”  Lily finished. 

Dumbledore nodded seriously.  “That’s what I’m afraid of.  And without magic, there is no way to hide them.  Now, I know this is very difficult news, so I will leave you to your evening.  But please carefully consider what I’ve said and start making arrangements.  For everyone’s safety.  And start thinking of who you think would be best for a Secret Keeper.”

“Sirius,” Lily and James said together. 

Dumbledore did not look surprised.  “Very well, I will be sure to get the appropriate literature to Mr. Black.”    

“Thanks, Professor,” James said numbly.  Dumbledore nodded and got up to leave the room. 

“Thank you for hot chocolate,” he said as he was leaving.  “I’ll come back tomorrow evening when you’ve had more time to think.  I’m so sorry.”

With that, he was gone.  Lily burst into tears and James couldn’t hold back his own either. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked him.  “All of our plans…”

“We’re going to do as we always planned,” he replied.  “We’re going to keep Harry safe.  Even if that means keeping him from the Winchesters for a little bit longer.” 

III

As it turned out, going into hiding wasn’t very easy.  To get their affairs in order required a lot of planning.  Frank and Alice were daily visitors as they brainstormed together on what needed to be done and to allow Harry and Neville as much “friend” time as possible.  Not that it meant much to the three-month-year-olds.  Both the Longbottoms and the Potters owned several properties, and while they did not disclose location details, the two couples spent many hours looking at which ones would be best. 

There was also the depressing step of will writing.  James and Lily wanted to be sure to leave explicit instructions on how Harry was to be returned to John and Mary.  They even had a set of backup plans, if, Merlin forgive, the Winchesters didn’t want Harry after all.  They had been very careful to keep their real plans for Harry a complete secret.  Only Sirius knew every detail – they had even kept certain facts from Professor Dumbledore.  They wrote him letters, instead, that would only be delivered if Sirius was killed.  A couple more sets were made as well, in case something happened to Dumbledore as well.  The list was long after that – Peter, then Remus, then Frank and Alice, then Professor McGonagall, then Molly Weasley.  Molly because the couple knew how fiercely she loved her children, so even though they didn’t know her very well, they trusted her to have Harry’s best interest at heart.  The list of school friends and professors was deep, but, in an absolute, last-ditch effort, a letter would go to Mary and John themselves.  About 20 people would have to die ahead of that happening – but when there was a war, one never knew what might happen.  Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. 

With each passing day, Voldemort seemed to be getting closer.  So much so that Lily and James had to flee to Sirius’ house one cool October morning.  It was only from the luck of using the invisibility cloak that they had been able to escape.  They knew that they didn’t have much time. 

Dumbledore had stopped by the morning after Lily and James had fled.  He honestly was astonished that they had made it out alive.  James showed him his invisibility cloak.  The Headmaster had been fascinated and even asked if he could borrow it.  James had shrugged and given it over – he certainly wasn’t going to need it while in hiding.  Dumbledore left in the morning, leaving Lily and James with just a couple of hours with Sirius before Peter arrived to perform the Fidelius Charm.

They sat at Sirius’ kitchen table, silently, taking in these last moments.  Sirius was holding Harry. 

“Sirius,” James began.  He stopped.  He knew what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.  Sirius waited.

“Padfoot,” James began again.  “Lily and I know how much you love Harry.”

“Like he’s my own,” Sirius replied. 

“Yes, like he’s your own.  But Lily and I need you to remember that he’s not.  And he’s not ours either, not really, no matter how much we wish that were true and how much we love him.”

“He’s yours in every way that counts,” Sirius rebuffed.  “I know that you had a plan.  But surely, after everything…”

“After everything, we still plan to do what is right,” Lily said firmly.  “Even though it will break our hearts.”

Sirius wasn’t sure that he believed her.  Lily wasn’t sure that she believed herself. 

“The point, Padfoot, is that after the American Aurors, who are legally bound not to talk, there are only two people in the world who know about the Winchesters.  Remember, this was our compromise.  Lily and I trust you completely – even though you talked us into making Wormtail our Secret Keeper.” 

“Yes, of course, I know that.” 

“That means,” continued James, “that it is your responsibility to make sure that he gets to his rightful parents… if… I mean, if….” James couldn’t even say it. 

“If something happens to us,” Lily finished for him.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Sirius with a severity that one rarely heard from the playful man.  “That’s why we’ve gone with Peter.  Voldemort – he may come after me, but he won’t think to go after Peter.”

“And we don’t doubt Peter, or you,” James said.  “But, still – it’s Voldemort.  And that’s not the point here.  We need you to promise, no matter how difficult, you have to promise to look after Harry if we pass.  You have to return him to the United States.  It may be what is safest.  You still have all his American documentation?”

“I do,” Sirius affirmed, now holding Harry closer to his chest than he had before. 

“Good,” said Lily.  “So he’s set.  Sirius, we need you to promise.”

“We need you to swear on your honor as a Marauder,” James said, uncharacteristically grave.

“Yes,” Lily agreed.  “On your honor as a Marauder and as a brother to James and myself.  Please, promise that you will look after our baby.  That you will give him back to Mary and John, and watch over him, as we would have.” 

Sirius sighed, trying to stop the tears welling up in his eyes.  “I promise.”

“Good,” said James.  “We’re all set then.  Remember Padfoot, we love you.”

“Love you too, Prongs, Lils.” 

The three of them got up from the table and embraced in an awkward hug, Harry still in Sirius’ arms. 

Even though they were preparing for the worst, no one present guessed that these would be their last moments together.  Peter arrived shortly, the charm was performed, and that was the last evening that the Potters would ever spend visiting a friend’s house.    

III 

Grief was not an adequate term for what John and Mary felt.  It felt so…empty, utterly numb.  They had lost a child.  They had lost a little boy.  An unexpected little boy, but so wanted and so loved.  They hadn’t even gotten the chance to name him before he was ripped from their lives.  The doctor said it was SIDS.  They had to believe him – what else could they do?

Both continued because they had to.  John worked at the mechanic shop and Mary returned to her job as a paralegal at an in-town law firm.  They both cared for Dean.  But, for a little while at least, everything was done on auto-pilot.  Neither knew it was possible to be in so much pain for losing someone they had never even had a chance to meet. 

Mary, unbeknownst to John, started digging for answers.  It was all too suspicious and everyone part of her screamed that there was something unnatural about her baby's disappearance.  Of course, John knew nothing of the supernatural, so it had to be done completely in secret.

Ultimately, it had been Dean who had kept Mary alive.  Without him, she wasn’t sure that she could have kept breathing without her baby. 

Dean was perfect.  Cheerful and loving.  He giggled all the time. 

By age two, before it had even been a year since they lost the baby, sometimes it felt like he was taking care of them, instead of the other way around. 

Sometimes, he still pointed at Mary’s stomach and said, “Baby.”

Later, when he was beginning to be able to speak, he would say odd things. 

“Baby – happy,” he said. 

Mary would smile at him.  “I’m happy my baby is happy.  What made you so happy today Dean?”

Dean would frown a little. 

“Baby happy,” he would say again as if disagreeing with his mother. 

Mary would smile knowingly and say, “Yes, baby happy.”

This seemed to calm him a bit. 

On Dean’s second Halloween, he seemed restless.

“Scared,” he told John.

John lifted him and swung him onto his shoulders.  “What do you have to be scared of, little man?  Don’t worry, mom and dad will protect you from ‘Halloween spirits.’” 

Dean started crying. 

Which was confusing, but also kind of adorable in his pumpkin outfit. 

“Baby scared!” He had cried. 

Mary and John exchanged looks – he still sometimes called himself baby, but this was confusing.

“Shh, baby, it’s alright,” she said, soothing her son.  “Baby, no one will hurt you.”

Dean whimpered but quieted down.  

Even after he had learned to say “I” instead of “baby” when referring to himself, Dean sometimes reverted.  It was the oddest thing.  Mary had taken him to the doctor – apparently, this was just a normal stage of development for some children. 

The strain of losing a child had put a strain on the Winchester’s marriage as well.  That was the real reason, Mary believed, that Dean sometimes infantilized himself.  After a particularly loud and explosive argument with John, Dean had been the one to comfort her. 

But he had also said, “No one loves baby.”

That broke Mary’s heart. 

“That’s not true Dean!  I love you, Daddy loves you.  You are so loved.”

Dean didn’t cry.  He just said, “No love for baby.”

With that, Mary resolved to try harder.  She told John, and he also renewed his commitment to her as well.  Above all else, their remaining child would feel loved.   

And then, as if by a miracle, only a couple of months off from when she got pregnant the last time, Mary was once again with child.  Both she and John were super careful.  They didn’t argue while she was pregnant.   She stopped working as soon as she found out.  Mary stopped her search for the child they had lost.  She never knew what had caused her to lose the last baby, but she was determined it would not happen again.  Mary didn’t think she could survive it.  John didn’t think she would either, so he was super vigilant. 

On May 2^nd, 1983, Mary gave birth.  This time, the baby came out wailing.  The doctor didn’t have to take him away.  He was beautiful.  Ten fingers and ten toes.  He wasn’t a replacement, but his arrival, and life, restored something in Mary and John’s hearts. 

Samuel William Winchester.  Savoir to the family Winchester.  For a short time, their family was complete.  There was no longer a gaping hole, where there should have been a second son.  Instead, there was a third, and oh, how they loved him.

Mary vowed herself to him.  Nothing bad would ever befall this baby.

John vowed himself in the same way.  He would protect him, Dean, and Mary at all costs.   Both parents, separately, decided that it was time to lay the memory of their last baby to rest.  It was time to move on.  For Dean and Sam.

Of course, nothing good lasts forever.

After Mary died, John was terrified of losing another member of his family.  He kept his boys under control – strict, oftentimes cold, always demanding.  But he had to close his heart – it was the only way to protect them.  It was the only way for him to protect himself.  But what would come would come … and he would have to meet it when it did. 

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Two: Chapter One – The Parting of the Ways

June, 1995

While on the train back to London, Harry thought about the immediate aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament and the small gathering of people in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.  Professors Dumbledore and Snape, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and, of course, Harry himself. 

“And now,” Dumbledore said, “it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are.  Sirius … if you could resume your usual form.”

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

“Sirius Black!” she shrieked, pointing at him.

“Mum, shut up!” Ron yelled, “It’s OK!”

Snape had not yelled or jumped backwards, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

“Him!” he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike.  “What is he doing here?”

“He is here at my invitation,” said Dumbledore, looking between them, “as are you, Severus.  I trust you both.  It is time for you to lay aside your old differences, and trust each other.”

Harry thought Dumbledore was asking for a near miracle.  Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.

“I will settle, in the short term,” said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, “for a lack of open hostility.  You will shake hands.  You are on the same side now.  Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the trust stand united, there is no hope for any of us.”

Very slowing – but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill – Sirius and Snape moved towards each other, and shook hands.  They let go extremely quickly.

“That will do to be going on with,” said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more.  “Now I have work for each of you.  Fudge’s attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything.  Sirius, I need you to set off at once. It’s time to reverse the Convention.  You have the documents stored someplace you can access them?”

Sirius’s eyes went wide, but he nodded in understanding and said, “Yes Professor.”

“But,” said Harry.

He wanted Sirius to stay.  He did not want to say goodbye again so quickly. 

“You will see me very soon, Harry,” said Sirius, turning to him.  “I promise you.  But I must do what I can, you understand don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Harry.  “Yeah … of course I do.”

Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw.  Then he was gone.

At the time, he had been in too much shock to think much of the exchange between Sirius and Dumbledore.  Something about reversing … well, reversing something.  Harry sighed, there was very little point in trying to decrypt Dumbledore’s odd words.  Maybe he’d ask Hermione about it sometime this summer, while he was languishing at the Dursleys. 

He got off the train with his friends.

Uncle Vernon was waiting beyond the barrier.  Mrs. Weasley was close by him.  She hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him, and whispered in his ear, “I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer.  Keep in touch Harry.”

“See you Harry,” said Ron, clapping him on the back.

“Bye Harry!” said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Harry – thanks,” George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side. 

Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station.

Waiting at Uncle Vernon’s car, to Harry’s shock and delight, was a large black dog.  Uncle Vernon was also shocked, but not delighted. 

“Get on you mangy beast,” he snarled at the dog.  The dog gave him a pointed glare and then turned slightly towards Harry, cocking his head to the left. 

“You want me to follow you?” Harry asked.  The dog nodded. 

“Boy … what are you thinking talking to that mutt?” Vernon hissed in a hushed tone, as a way of trying to avoid any attention from any other people that may be in the car park.  There were none, of course. 

“Uncle Vernon – it looks like I won’t be going home with you this summer.”  Harry looked to the dog for confirmation.  Padfoot nodded again and grinned in a way that only a dog could. 

“What’d mean?  Boy, you get in the car this instant or …”

“Or nothing Uncle.  It seems my godfather is requesting a meeting.  I’ll see you next summer.”  With that, Padfoot started walking towards the other end of the station, and Harry followed. 

Vernon turned a violent shade of purple as his nephew walked away.  “You better not come back later this summer boy!  We won’t have it.!”

Harry just gave him a cheeky grin as he left.  When they were a good distance away, a lead attached itself to Padfoot's collar.  The dog put the end of it in Harry’s hands.  He dragged his trunk behind him with one hand and had Hedwig and the lead in his other hand as he followed the dog, biting back his questions, as they walked down Pentonville Road.  They walked for about 20 minutes, weaving in and out of the crowd.  At last, they arrived at Claremont Square.  Padfoot nudged Harry’s hand, and he noticed there was a small piece of parchment attached to the handle he was holding. 

It read, “The Black Residence is located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.”  After Harry read it, it was like there was a vision before his eyes.  In between two townhomes, another squeezed its way in. 

“... woah,” said Harry. 

Padfoot barked and indicated for Harry to follow.  But, instead of going up to the front door, they entered a small alley that led them to the back of the building.  As they arrived, Sirius changed back into himself. 

“Harry, I know you have a lot of questions …”

“Yeah,” Harry interrupted, “do I really get to avoid the Dursley’s this summer?  Is this your house?  Am I going to live here with you?  I thought Dumbledore …”

“Dumbledore is fully aware of what’s happening.  We are here on his orders.  Now, we don’t have a lot of time.  Your plane leaves in four hours.”  Sirius said rather urgently. 

“My … my what?”  His heart beat a little faster - maybe Sirius was going to take him to one of the places he had hidden the summer before.  

“Your plane.  Harry, there is very little time.  Please pull out of your trunk only the essentials for this summer, while I run into the house to retrieve a couple of other things you will need.”  Sirius headed towards the house, but before he entered, he said, “Oh, and Harry, Muggle clothes only.”

Harry was certainly very confused did as his godfather asked.  "Your plane" certainly seemed to indicate that Sirius would not be taking this journey with him.  He opened his trunk.  It was summer – did he need his textbooks or would he be able to just do all of his homework on the train per usual?  Hermione wouldn’t be pleased with that line of thinking.  He placed them on the ground as a “maybe” item.  He then proceeded to sort through the rest of his belongings.  It was amazing what he managed to acquire over the last four years at Hogwarts. 

He was internally debating his broom polishing kit, when Sirius came back out, with a large duffle bag, a stack of parchment, and a rucksack. 

Sirius looked over his piles.  “I supposed you’ll need to do homework, won’t you?” he asked, wrinkling his nose a bit.  “Let me put a quick charm on your books.”  He flicked his wand and said an incantation that Harry didn’t recognize.  Harry looked at the books.  They looked the same. 

“Now, anyone looking at these books will see what they expect to see, instead of what they are.  That’s why they look the same to you.  To a Muggle, they might see your potions text as ‘Chemistry’ or your Transfiguration book as ‘Physics.’  Don’t let them look too closely though – it will probably be complete nonsense.  Only so much I can do with magic,” Sirius shrugged.   

“Where … what … why?” Harry couldn’t seem to formulate which question he wanted to ask first. 

“I’ll answer what I can in a moment, Harry.  I’ve called for a taxi – it’ll be here in about fifteen minutes and we have a lot to through before then.” 

Sirius started looking through what Harry had pulled out and placed some items in the duffle bag.  “Oh the state of your Muggle clothes is terrible, we don’t want them to think ... well never mind.  Harry, are you attached to any of these clothing items?”

Harry shook his head no. 

“Perfect.  There is a brand-new set already packed for you – everything you should need.  Got your measurements from Dumbledore – not quite sure how he knew, but that’s neither here nor there.  Bought them from a Muggle store – didn’t want to risk transfigured garments.  When you get to the airport, change out of what you're wearing now and honestly, throw those jeans and shirt out.  They look like they belonged to an elephant before you.”

Harry snorted, thinking they kind of had. 

“Sirius...” he tried to begin again. 

“Sorry Harry, still no time for questions.  I’m packing your invisibility cloak – be sure to keep it well hidden.”  He looked at the cloak quite wistfully.  “Yes, it could come in handy, only use it if you are in dire need though.  Parchment and quills won’t do – I’ve put some Muggle parchments in your bag, you’ll still be able to do your homework on them, but will probably want to copy them over to proper scrolls once you're back in September.” 

He stopped putting items in the duffle bag and switched to putting things into the rucksack.  Everything that he deemed “unnecessary” he put back in Harry’s trunk.  

Finally, he looked happy and he turned to Harry. 

“I know you have loads of questions, and I wish I could answer them all.  Have you ever flown on an airplane before Harry?”

Harry shook his head.

“I thought that might be the case.  Well, this first bit of parchment explains everything you need to know about that.  Read it in the taxi.  Harry, what I’m about to tell you is going to be very difficult to hear.  And I can’t give you all the details.  All of those are in this envelope here,” Sirius handed him more parchment.  “Read this on the plane.  Follow the instructions exactly.  Including burning this when you’ve got all the use out of this that you need.”  

Next, he gave Harry a wallet and a passport.  Harry looked at the passport with interest.  It was blue, not red. 

“Sirius, this is an American passport.”

“That’s correct.  It’s yours.  Harry,” he began again, “this is so inadequate and very unfair to tell you this way.  But James and Lily weren’t your parents.”

Harry felt the whole world drop around him.  “What?” he croaked.  

“I’m terrible at this.  Ok, well they weren’t your only parents.  Harry, have you studied the Purpura Convention in History of Magic?”

Harry thought back to class with Binns – most was hazy at best.  Binns was so dull.  But he did remember, in 3^rd year, Hermione ranting about something... “is that the crazy law that allowed pureblood to adopt royal children?”

Sirius nodded.  “I thought Dumbledore might have snuck that into the curriculum, it wasn’t covered when I was at Hogwarts.”

“Are you saying I’m royal?” Harry asked, completely perplexed. 

Sirius gave his bark-like laugh.  “No, no of course not.  It's no longer legal in the United Kingdom.  Harry, your parents, well your first parents are Muggles.  American Muggles.  Lily and James adopted you – so you are fully their son, but as it stands …”

Harry opened the passport.  It had a recent picture of him (looked like from one of Rita’s articles, ugh) and his name was listed as, “Henry Winchester.”  He said out loud.  That sounded strange to his ears. 

“That’s right.  The Winchesters.  I met them once – very nice people.  Harry, they loved you.  And you were meant to grow up with them, but …”

There was a honk towards the front of the house. 

“But what?” Harry asked.  He felt a little sick to his stomach. 

“Your taxi is here.  I can’t walk in front of the house.  Here, put on this hat,” Sirius handed him a baseball cap.  On the front, it had a crest of arms and it read, “Saint Bosco’s School for Gifted and Talented Children.”  It was the Muggle cover name for Hogwarts.  “Wear this hat from now until you arrive – try to avoid letting anyone see your face, if at all possible.  And for Merlin's sake, keep your scar covered at all times.” 

Harry put on the hat but still managed a “Sirius … I don’t …”

“I know, Harry, and I’m sorry.  I will keep your trunk, and Hedwig here for the summer, they will be safe.”

The taxi laid on its horn. 

“You have to go now,” Sirius said, handing him the rucksack and the duffle bag, pushing Harry slightly, and changing into a dog.  Harry was so dazed and confused that he didn’t even try to ask more questions.  Padfoot walked with him to the door of the cab. 

“’Bout time,” said the driver.  “Where to young man?”

“Uhh,” Harry looked down at the parchment on top and read it aloud.  “Heathrow, Terminal 2?”

“Well if you’re so sure then,” the driver said, and they were off. Harry glanced back to see the dog shape of his godfather slowly fade from view.  He also glanced down at the ticket tucked into his passport.  ‘Minneapolis, Minnesota,’ it read.  Harry had no idea where that was, but apparently, that is where he was going to spend the summer.  He sure hoped this letter was detailed because … well, if Sirius was going to turn his whole world upside down, there better be a good explanation for it. 

III

Summer school is stupid, Dean thought to himself as he kicked a rock on the road.  He had his backpack slung over one shoulder.  Because of the family business he had Sam regularly had to spend the first half of their summers in summer school, to catch up on everything that they missed while they were town-hopping the rest of the year. 

He was on his way to pick up Sammy from middle school.  Sam actually enjoyed school.  Nerd, Dean thought fondly.  High school let out just early enough for him to walk to the middle school and arrive just as the younger boy was leaving for the day.  It was then Dean’s responsibility to get them back to the motel-of-the-week.  If their dad wasn’t hunting, he would be at the middle school ready to pick them both up.  But, quite frankly, that was rare.

Dean wished that his father would start taking him on more hunting trips.  After all, he had been training for them since his mother had passed.  He had hoped that, because they were in Minnesota at the beginning of this summer, Sam could be left with Pastor Jim from time to time while Dean helped their father.  However, the term was nearing a close and so far, John had only taken Pastor Jim on the hunting trips, leaving the two boys alone.  They were enrolled in the schools associated with the Pastor’s parish.  It was the first time that Dean or Sam had been in a private school – probably because they had gotten a “scholarship” for this month-long program from their dad’s friend. 

 As Dean approached the school, he could see his brother’s floppy brown hair from a distance.  Good, he was sitting on the bench where Dean had told him to wait.  For once. 

“Hiya, Sammy,” Dean said as he approached his little brother.  “How was school today?”

Sam scowled slightly.  “We started our final unit for history class today – family history.  Have you heard from dad?” 

Dean certainly understood the dark mood then.  It would be tough to get any information out of their father.  Well, after weapons training, he and Sam would just have to spend some time making things up.  

“Not yet.  I’m sure he’ll be in contact soon,” Dean said, looking down at his pager.  There hadn’t been a single message for about two days.  Typical, but still worrying.  Dean could see the worry begin to creep onto his little brother’s face. 

Dean knew how to turn that frown … well, not upside down, but deeper.  “Alright, Sam.  Emergency drill – we’re on a hunt and Dad says run.” Dean glanced down at his watch, “How fast can you make it back to the motel room and put in place all the proper precautions?” 

Sam gave Dean a look, “But Dean – I’m in my uniform…” he whined.  “And my books are heavy!”

Dean leveled him with a no-nonsense glare.  “A poltergeist doesn’t care about your uniform.  Or how heavy your books are.  Go – now,” he barked.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he tightened up his backpack straps (he wasn’t cool enough to know that they should only be worn over one shoulder) and set off on a sprint down the street.  Dean noted the time and jogged slightly behind the younger boy.  He sure enjoyed that his brother’s short legs made him easy to keep pace with. 

The motel was only about a mile away from the school – so Sam should be in good enough shape to make it in under ten minutes. 

To any onlookers, it would have appeared that the brothers were just enjoying a run after school, perhaps training for a Fall sport. 

Dean was sure to fall slightly behind Sam as they neared the hotel, so he could better survey the preparations that he made to protect himself.  It may look like all fun and games, but really, these drills were vital to the survival of the family. 

The elder of the two boys, burst into the room, approximately two minutes after the younger.  Sam was on the bed, panting heavily – a loaded shotgun (presumably with shells filled with salt) pointed at Dean as he entered.  Dean started looking around, inspecting the work. 

“Your salt line could be a little thicker, Sam,” he said running his finger through the half-inch that had been laid down.  “But nice job with the double rings.”  There was one line of salt (no longer unbroken because Dean had entered the room) at the front of the room, for anything that could be entering, and a second around the bed that Sam was sitting on – gun now lowered. 

Dean looked at his watch.  “You made it here in … eleven minutes, that’s a little slow, Sammy.  We might need to up your speed training.”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes.  He looked like he was about to argue, but a sharp look from his brother stopped it. 

“Let me see how many bullets you got into that gun,” the inspection continued.  Sam unloaded the gun onto the bed.  Three.  “That gun holds six shots, you weren’t fast enough.  All in all, I would say that means you should drop and give me twenty.”

“Dean,” a sharp voice came from the ajar motel room door.  Both boys whipped their heads to see the man standing in the doorway.  “What is this door doing open?  While your brother is in the room?”

“Dad!” Cried the boys in unison. 

“We were running a drill sir,” Dean responded, maintaining his serious composure. 

John turned his gaze to his eldest.  “That’s no excuse Dean, and you know it.  Your brother’s safety comes first.”

“Yes sir,” Dean responded, silently cursing himself for his carelessness.  Closing the door was the most basic security measure.  

“Also, you ran straight past me in the parking lot.  You clearly weren’t on the lookout,” their father continued, making Dean feel more and more ashamed with each comment.  Not that he let that show on his face.  

“You gave Sam twenty?”

“Yes sir.” 

“I need 50 from you then.  Well, what are you waiting for boys?”  John said at the very slight hesitation from his boys.  Both dropped immediately and started their punishment.  Sam, of course, was done first, and Dean, slightly after.  

They both stood at attention under their father’s gaze, until he smiled and said, “Alright, get over here,”  

The brothers smiled and ran over – Sam giving his father a hug and Dean patting him lightly on the back in greeting.  

“What were you hunting this time Dad?” Sam asked, always curious, and never with any tact.  

“Never you mind about that Sammy, I want to hear about how school has been going,” John said, easily turning Sam’s attention away.  Dean rolled his eyes internally; it was too easy to distract his younger brother.  

While his brother launched into a story about the last week of school, Dean slipped out the door silently.  It was his job to get to the Impala and make sure that nothing dangerous or unsavory was left out on the car seats.  He quickly removed a sharp wooden stake and a handgun from the passenger’s side seat and moved them to the trunk of the car.  

While he was in the trunk, he also grabbed a rag and squirt bottle (Is this holy water or regular water? he wondered shortly to himself, Doesn’t matter, Pastor Jim’s around, we can easily get more, he thought) before using it to rub off the dirt on the car.  There was fresh wax, so it didn’t take much.  This also wasn’t one of his duties – he just loved the car and always wanted it to look its best.  Plus, it gave Sam a little extra time with their dad.  A good thing, as his younger brother seemed to be getting more and more rebellious by the day.  He knew that the reason they were enrolled in this summer school program was to stop Sam from running off like he had last summer.  Two full weeks in Flagstaff – Dean had thought his father would kill him.  Dean thought he might off himself if anything happened to his brother.  

He shook himself out of his thoughts while he put away his supplies and headed back into the room.  

Sam had his notebook out and he chatted enthusiastically with their father.  “What happened to Mom’s brother?  Is he still alive?  Can we meet him?”

John frowned slightly.  “He passed away when she was young – about ten years old.”  He omitted that the man had been in prison for murder at the time – no need to divulge any more information than necessary.  

“Oh,” replied Sam.  “Are all of our relatives dead?  What about your parents?  I know you said Grandpa disappeared when you were little but …”  

Dean, who was naturally attuned to his father’s body language, saw the man tense up at the question.  Eldest child to the rescue again.  

“That’s boring Sammy, there are more pressing matters at hand,” he interrupted.  Sam noticed the redirection but allowed it after a warning look from his brother.  “Dad, can I practice driving the Impala tonight?  I’ve had my permit for months now and you still haven't let me behind the wheel.”  

John was conflicted.  He wasn’t sure Dean was responsible enough, but his son had just saved him from some uncomfortable questions.  “Alright, after the weapon's drill, I’ll let you drive us to the diner for dinner.  Slowly.  If you do a good job, I’ll let you drive us back too.” 

Dean grinned.  And internally whooped with joy.  

“Do you want us to start with knife throwing or crossbows?  I’ve taught Sammy some new tricks, that I think you’ll be impressed with.”  

The evening continued pleasantly.  Soon John would long for these peaceful evenings with his boys – because even though he didn’t know, things were about to change.

III

Harry was thankful that the items that Sirius had given him included a wallet with both British and American Muggle currency so that he could pay the grumpy cab driver when he arrived at Heathrow.  He had read through the “For the Taxi” envelope’s instructions at least 3 times in his hour-long drive to the airport.  In it, Sirius had been very explicit about when he was to open each set of instructions.  Why he had to wait was less clear – but he tried to open his airplane set, just to peak, and it wouldn’t budge.  Shite, Harry thought, he must have charmed them to only open at a certain time.  Arse. 

Mostly what Harry felt was anger – mixed with a heavy dose of confusion and a tinge of sadness and despair.  But he couldn’t allow himself those emotions right now, as he wiped hot tears from his cheeks just outside the terminal because apparently, he had a plane to catch.  

Harry followed the instructions as if his broom already knew where it was going.  

First, he checked in at the counter – final boarding pass and bag checked done.  

Next, he went to the restroom, where he changed out of his horrid Dudley hand-me-downs, into an outfit that looked like it had been picked out for some snooty public-school student.  Harry wrinkled his nose a bit but changed into them.  There was another set for him to change into once he set down in the States.  Sirius had also said to keep the cap on as often as possible to conceal his very famous scar.  This was all very 007.  Harry wondered if Sirius might have ever actually seen those films.  

This was Harry’s first time flying – in an airplane at least.  The Dursleys, of course, had never taken him any place that would require such an expense.  (Actually, the only “fun” trip he could recall taking with them was that disastrous one to the zoo right before his first year at Hogwarts.)  Although supposedly, he had been born in America, maybe this wasn’t his first time on an airplane.  Not knowing annoyed him.  

Finally, after going through security and customs, he was waiting for the plane in the first-class lounge for British Airways passengers.  Maybe that’s why Sirius had made him dress this way – he was to fly first class, so dressing up a bit might make him stand out less.  

Harry took this time (along with a complimentary soda) to explore the second of the bundles of parchment given to him by his godfather.  

There was a brief explanation of American wizarding culture, something Harry knew nothing about.  They did not blur the lines between Muggle (or as they said – No-Maj – the most ridiculous term that Harry had ever heard) and magical communities.  It seems that there was an infestation of Muggle-based dangerous creatures that simply didn’t exist in the UK, and the wizarding world was watchful to make sure that those that opposed those creatures would not confuse a proper (or as they said natural) witch or wizard with something – well, supernatural.  

All of this was interesting, but not what Harry actually wanted to know about.  He wanted to know about his parents.  He had learned (thanks to Hermione, really) about the Purpura Convention and how they had taken magical babies from the royal lineage to protect the wizarding world from Muggles.  Hermione, of course, was ready to go full-blown SPEW on the topic until she found out that it had been outlawed in the United Kingdom for more than a century.  He was pretty sure that America didn’t have a royal family, so he couldn’t imagine why they would still use the backward protocol from centuries long past.  

Harry also got to explore the wallet a bit more.  Other than money, there were credit cards with his “American” name on them.  (He simply couldn’t identify as Henry.)  Sirius had noted that he would have more than enough money in them to last him the summer.  Additionally, one of the cards connected him to an American Muggle bank account in his name.  There was also wizarding currency, placed in a bag that was openable to Harry only.  

Along with the history lesson were strict instructions on how to avoid American wizarding officials.  It was important that no one knew that Harry Potter was in the country.  It was so important, that Sirius had also included a magic-dampening bracelet for Harry to wear whenever possible.  The bracelet would make it look as though he had the magical levels of a Squib when passing through borders and customs, so he would have no contact with magical authorities.  It would also allow him to handle the Muggle mobile that was included in the parcel.  Apparently, it was normal for Muggles to have them, and Sirius hadn’t wanted Harry to seem out-of-the-ordinary in the least.  

Harry was to do his very best to keep his magical heritage a secret, from everyone, including his family.  Family, thought Harry, I wonder if I have any brothers or sisters?  He was still to keep his wand on him at all times – the bracelet could be easily removed, in the case of an absolute emergency.  

Included in the emergency items were also a two-way mirror that Sirius said connected directly to him (something that he and Harry’s da – James, had used while in Hogwarts) and a portkey to get him back to Britain in time for the next school year.  It was keyed to a certain time, but, in the case of an emergency, he could use a passcode to activate it.  The second was illegal but necessary.  

The announcement for Harry’s flight came over the PA.  He shuffled away from his parchment and got ready to board. 

Ideally, Harry would have used the flight as a time to recover from what was turning out to be one of the more traumatic days of his life.  And he had recently faced Voldemort in a graveyard, so that was really saying something.  

Thankfully, he had a window seat and was able to put on enough of a teenage glower (doing his best to emulate Draco Malfoy) that the stewardesses left him alone for the most part – as did the businessman in the seat next to him.  

Of course, sleep wasn’t an option.  He had too much reading to do.  And there was a lot of it.  Harry wondered when Sirius had had the time to write so much to him.  

He now knew the names of his parents – Mary and John Winchester.  He also understood what Lily and James had done for him and what their plans had been.  It honestly made him grieve for them all over again.  Sirius had said in his letter that he was certain that his mum and dad wouldn’t have gone through with giving him back.  Having been rejected by what Harry thought were his only living relatives, it overwhelmed him to know that he had been wanted by two different sets of parents.  But, following his luck, it seemed that he had lost all but one.  

Sirius, when he had been on the run last year, had checked in on the Winchesters.  He found out that Mary had died and that Harry had not only one brother – but two.  One younger than him and one older.  Samuel and Dean.  Harry hoped they were nothing like Dudley, but he didn’t have high hopes for the Muggle boys.  

Harry also understood that Mary’s family had been the hunters, and since her death, it was highly unlikely that the rest of the Winchesters would have any connection to that community.  All three Winchesters had seemed in good health – although Sirius had only seen them briefly, while they were on what looked like a vacation in Arizona.  Sirius had done a location spell to find that the family was currently staying in Blue Earth, Minnesota.  What a weird name for a town, Harry thought, Americans, with an eye roll.  

And that was it.  Harry was happy that he was already wearing his magic dampener – the emotional roller-coaster that was all this information might have caused his accidental magic to flare up, even though he was nearly 14.  His mind was in shambles.  

He was still grieving Cedric and terrified that Voldemort had returned.  And now this.  A secret family – three dead parents instead of just two.  Brothers.  And a summer in America.  It took nearly the entire plane ride for him to get it all under control and adopt a blank mask.  He wouldn’t expect anything.  He didn’t need anything from the Winchesters.  So, if they didn’t want him, it was fine.  He would return to Britain in two short months and be with his real family.  Sirius, Ron, and Hermione.  This is, at least, what the Boy-Who-Lived told himself.  If Harry had been honest with himself, he would see that another rejection would destroy him.  And that isn’t something he could allow.  After all, he had a Dark Lord to defeat.

Harry landed in Chicago, went through customs, and then caught a much shorter flight to Minneapolis.  At the final airport, he picked up his bag and went to the hotel that Sirius had reserved for him for the night.  It was already 10 at night local time and with the two-hour drive to Blue Earth, it would be too late for a long-lost son to show himself.  Harry used the mirror to call Sirius, as instructed, but he was too angry and too tired to have much of a conversation.  There was a jet lag potion that Harry downed.  It was enough to knock him out and he fell into a very restless sleep.  

The next morning, Harry awoke, feeling confused about where he was.  It wasn’t as nice as his four-poster at Hogwarts, nor was it as cramped as Dudley’s second bedroom.  Then it all hit him at once.  He was in America.  He had a family here.  He had a mission to complete.  

Harry changed out of the posh public school clothes that he hadn’t bothered to remove to sleep and into a much more comfortable outfit that Sirius had packed him.  Slightly baggy dark jeans and a black band t-shirt.  AC/DC.  Harry had never heard of them.  He also put on his cap.

He went downstairs with his bags and into a taxi out front.  

“You got money kid?” The driver asked in a deep, gravelly, voice.  So much for American hospitality, Harry thought.  

“Yeah,” and Harry flashed him the cash in his wallet.  

“Good, where to?”

“The Super Eight in Blue Earth.”

“That’s a long drive – going to cost quite a bit.” 

“That’s fine, I have the money.”

“Alright then.  Friggin’ foreigners.”  

It was around noon when they pulled up to the motel.  Harry’s stomach was in knots.  

“That’ll be $200 bucks kid,” the taxi driver said.  Harry pulled out the money and handed it over.  The driver grunted in acknowledgment.  

He stepped out and went to the front desk.  

“Excuse me?” He asked the elderly lady at the front desk.  

The woman looked up.  

“Well aren’t you the cutest,” she smiled.  “Is that an accent I’m hearing?”

“Yeah – I’m British.  You see ma’am, my uncle and cousins are staying here in this motel, but my mobile died and I don’t know what room.  Would it be possible to get their room number from you?”

“Oh, so sweet and polite, of course, sweetie.  What’s the name on the registration?”

“Winchester, ma’am.”  

She frowned slightly.  “I don’t think we have anyone here under that name.”  

Harry’s stomach dropped – was all of this for nothing?  “Is there another Super 8 in this area?”  He asked, hoping.  

“I’m afraid not sweetie.  Winchester you said, let me just take a quick look again – I’m still not accustomed to these machines.”  She said, referring to the computer sitting on the desk.  

“Did you say, Winchester?” A gruff voice sounded behind Harry.  He whipped around.  There, at the soda machine, was a boy, who looked slightly older than himself.  He was wearing a leather jacket and torn-up jeans.  

“I did.  Do you know where I might find them?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed.  “Yeah, I do.  I can take you to them.”

Harry wasn’t so sure – there was a slightly dangerous aura to this boy.  The woman behind the counter smiled with encouragement.  “That’s Dean,” she supplied.  “He’s staying here with his daddy and brother, he’s a good boy.”  

Harry’s eyes went wide.  This was his brother then.  “Yeah, alright, I’ll come with you.”  

Dean didn’t say a word to him as they walked away from the reception area and towards the back of the motel.  When they were just beyond the line of sight of the woman at the front, Dean turned on Harry quickly and pinned him roughly against a wall.  

“Alright, who are you and what do you want with my family?”  He asked menacingly.  

Harry was taken completely by surprise and was gasping for air.  Damn, Dean was strong and his wand was too far out of reach.  He decided to go for the truth.

“My name is Henry Winchester … I’m your brother.” 

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Two: Chapter Two - Meet the Winchesters

June, 1995

Dean grumbled slightly to himself as he headed to the reception desk to pick up some sodas for Sammy and himself from the vending machine.  It was a Saturday, so no school meant the regular hunter training schedule of the day.  While Dad was gone, he expected Dean to stay on top of Sam for training – left to his own devices, his younger brother would simply do homework and read all day long.  He was always trying to weasel out of it one way or another, and the latest trick was to ask for a soda at midday.  Dean knew what Sam was trying to pull, but he had a very hard time denying such a simple request.  Brat, he thought fondly. 

He entered the reception area, where a kid was talking to the woman working.  He overheard him telling the lady he was British – which was odd because this part of Minnesota was not exactly what he would call an “international tourist” destination.  Then he heard the kid specifically ask about the Winchesters.

Dean’s blood ran cold.  They never checked into a motel with their real last name.  Made them harder to track.  He had always thought it was a little paranoid on the part of his father, but maybe not. 

He got the kid to follow him – so if he was a threat, he was kind of a dumb one.  He made sure that they were in a spot where they couldn’t be seen by anyone before rushing him and pinning him to the wall with his forearm. His heart raced, trying to think of everything this kid might be, so he would know how to kill him if need be.  The biggest problem was that Sam was in the motel room, so he wouldn’t be able to get a weapon without alerting his brother and putting him in danger. 

“Alright, who are you and what do you want with my family?”  He demanded, doing his best to imitate his father's menacing growl.  

“My name is Henry Winchester … I’m your brother.”

That was so far from what Dean was expecting to hear that he relaxed his grip, and in a show of agility the boy, “Henry” so he said, dropped to the ground and landed on his feet. 

“I’m sorry what?” Dean asked.  He looked the kid up and down - still wary of a potential attack.  There is no way that this could be true.  There was just Sam, and this boy was older than his younger brother, although much scrawnier.  Had his father cheated on his mother?  There was no way. 

“I’m Henry Winchester,” Harry repeated, even though the name still didn’t roll off his tongue naturally.  “I, well, it’s a long story.  Err, is there someplace we could talk?  In private?”

This made Dean’s alarm bells go off even stronger.  He narrowed his eyes.  “Sure.  Don’t move, if you know what’s good for you.  I’ll be right back.”

Harry dusted himself off as Dean walked away.  Well, that could have gone better, he thought to himself.  It could have gone worse too.  He was hoping that Dean was going to get John – so that he could reverse the memory spell and cut down on some of that suspicion. 

Dean hurried back to the room – being sure to take several detours and going in circles, just to be sure that the boy didn’t follow him.  He had concluded that it must be something that was after them because his father had simply loved his mother too much to cheat on her. 

He barged into the room, catching Sam by surprise.  “Dean, what’s …”

“No time to talk Sammy.  Or argue, this is serious.  I need you to leave here immediately, as quickly as possible, and go get help.  Page Dad, and call Pastor Jim.  Uncle Bobby too.  Tell them it’s urgent and life-threatening.”

Sam could tell his brother wasn’t joking around and had to swallow the natural, “Yes, sir” that came out of him when his father spoke like that. 

“Should I call the police too?  Are you going to be ok?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“I’ll be just fine.  No police – this is one of our situations.  Go, now Sam, that’s an order.”

Sam got up and left the room, moving as quickly as possible.  He was almost out of earshot when he heard Dean say, “And don’t come back by yourself.  Only return to this motel room once you’ve gotten the all-clear from Dad or Pastor Jim.” 

Sam didn’t reply – just kept moving. 

Dean prepared the room as quickly as possible.  Salt line on the door, gun at the ready, holy water poured, and silver knife within easy reach.  He’d keep the dangerous weapons within close reach, but hidden, because if this guy was willing to follow him back to this room, he was either innocent, stupid, or extremely powerful. 

Dean returned to where Harry was standing – rather awkwardly, but with a new sort of determination in his eyes. 

“Alright, come with me.  I’ll direct you – keep your hands where I can see them.”

He rolled his eyes in a way that was so reminiscent of Sam, that it nearly took Dean’s breath away and a shiver ran down his spine.  For the first time, he wondered if this guy was telling the truth.  

Harry was quite frustrated – up and to this point, everything had gone the way Sirius had said it would.  His godfather hadn’t warned him that his brother was a freaking lunatic.  If Dean had been anything other than a Muggle, Harry might have been intimated.  But he had nothing on Dudley’s sheer size and after facing the Dark Lord himself less than a month ago, it was going to take more than a serious voice and mean face to scare The Boy Who Lived. 

They arrived at the room and Harry noticed a line of white powder just over the threshold.  Things just kept getting weirder and weirder.  And he thought the Dursleys were strange. 

Dean breathed a little easier when, the boy – alright Henry, walked over the salt without a problem. 

“Would you like a glass of water?” He asked.

It was the nicest thing that Dean had said to Harry so far, he was pleasantly surprised.  “That’d be nice, thanks.”

Dean handed him the glass and watched carefully as he drank it.  This made Harry a bit wary, but if he was poisoned, he could always use his emergency portkey.  Getting back to England would be ideal.  There, at least, he could be of some use in the fight instead stuck in the middle of nowhere USA with an insane Muggle. 

Test two passed, Dean thought.  He noticed Henry wearing a bracelet. 

“Nice bracelet you got there – is it made out of silver?”  There was only a slight mocking sound when Dean had said “bracelet.” 

Henry looked surprised.  “Yeah, I think so.  Not sure though – it was … a present.” 

Dean would have to get his hands on some silverware sometime soon, but for now, that would do. 

“Neat.” 

There was a long, awkward pause. 

“So, is John Winchester around?” Harry finally asked, putting an end to the silence. 

“Shouldn’t you call him, ‘dad’?” Dean shot back. 

“Err, I suppose, I just found out he existed in the last 48 hours.  Seems weird to call a complete stranger dad.”  It would feel weird to call anyone dad, Harry thought.  He’d never really had one. 

“Uh-huh, and when you found out, what, you hopped on a plane?  As far as I know, my dad has never even been to England.”  It was Dean’s goal to keep this kid talking long enough for Sam to have reached Pastor Jim or Dad.  Their father was out on what he said would be a week-long hunting trip.  It was unclear if Pastor Jim had gone with him.  If so, Uncle Bobby was only a two-hour drive away, if worse came to worse.  Dean felt he could hold the fort for that long. 

“As far as I know, he hasn’t been either.  My parents adopted me from here.”

“So, your mom is some slut that slept with my dad and then gave the baby up for adoption?  Why aren’t you bothering her then?”  Dean asked angrily – the very thought of his dad cheating on his mom made his blood boil. 

That surprised Harry.  “Are you calling your mother a slut?”  He asked. 

That made Dean even angrier.  “How dare you? My mother was…”

Harry interrupted.  “We have the same mother - I am the son of John and Mary Winchester.” 

That stopped Dean straight in his tracks.  Before he could reply though, the door to the motel room opened, and Sam stood there, slack-jawed. 

“Sam, I told you to stay away until you got the all-clear.”

Sam puffed his chest out.  “I couldn’t leave you alone if you were in danger!  Plus, both Pastor Jim and Uncle Bobby said that they were on their way.  Is it true?  Is this kid our brother?” 

“No!”

“Yes!” Dean and Harry said at the same time and then glared at each other. 

Harry rubbed his temples.  Why was he even here?  This was completely ridiculous. “Would you like to see my passport?” 

Dean huffed, but Sam said, “Yeah.”

“Alright then,” both brothers followed the other boy’s movements closely, Dean ready to take him down if he seemed like a threat, Sam with great interest.  Harry handed the passport over to Dean. 

“There, you see, flip to the first page.”

Dean looked at the passport.  He didn’t have one, but he supposed this was what one would look like.

“This is American,” he said, without opening it. 

“I know,” said Harry, voice tense with annoyance.  “I’m American.” 

Dean opened it up.  Sure enough, there was the name.  Henry John Winchester, born July 28^th, 1980 in Lawrence, Kansas.   Dean had seen enough of his father’s fake IDs to know that forgery was entirely possible.  John had said that passports were particularly difficult and expensive to get – an answer as to why they couldn’t go to Mexico for Spring Break.  No official documentation was allowed for the Winchester family because it made them too easy to trace. 

“This says you're only a year and a half younger than me.” Dean pointed out.  “You look closer to 12 than 15.”

“Well, you try living in a cupboard for ten years and see what it does to you,” Harry snapped.  “I’ll be 15 in a month.” 

Now, this was just getting weird.  “You lived in a … cupboard? Why?” Dean asked. 

“Look, that doesn’t matter.  Really, where is your father?  I can get this all cleared up if you just let me speak with him.” 

“What is Saint Bosco’s?” Sam asked, speaking for the first time, despite Dean’s look that told him to shut up. 

“Saint Bosco’s?”

“Yeah, on your hat.” 

That took Harry a second – which both Sam and Dean noticed.  Right, he thought, Hogwarts.  “It’s my school.”

“Saint Bosco is the patron Saint of Magicians,” Sam said, curiosity lining his voice.  “Is it a school for magicians?” 

That was surprisingly close, all things considered.  Wizards sure did have an excellent sense of humor, Harry thought to himself sarcastically.

“Uh no.  It’s a school in Scotland that my parents, well my adopted parents put me in.” 

Before there was time for any more questions, there was a knock on the door. 

“Sam, Dean, are you in there?  Is everything alright?” They heard a call from the other side.  It was Pastor Jim.  Dean breathed a little easier. 

“Yeah, Pastor Jim, we’re here.  Come on in.”  Dean said. 

Dear Merlin, Harry thought, How many more people who are not John Winchester going to show up?

A middle-aged man wearing a clerical collar entered the room. 

He glanced around at all the boys, standing, looking tense. 

“I got the SOS from Sam here Dean.  I called Bobby and told him I’d handle it.  What is going on?”

Dean glared at Harry. “This kid is claiming to be our long-lost brother.  Henry Winchester.  I haven’t had a chance to do a silver test on him yet, but he’s passed the salt and holy water tests.” 

That he was tested came as a surprise to Harry, but he tried not to show it because it shouldn’t have been a surprise after everything else Dean had put him through. 

“What, do you think I’m a bloody werewolf?  Those a big problem here in America?” He asked with both sarcasm and anger.  What would these Muggles know about werewolves anyway? 

That got everyone’s attention.  They all stared at him for a second before he sighed and said, “They’re not real.  Plus, the full moon was a couple of weeks ago – so even if they were, I think you’d be pretty safe right now.”

“How’d you know that?” Dean asked.

Harry looked at him like he was crazy.  “I take Astronomy at school.  We always have class at midnight during full moons.  Makes it pretty easy to keep track.”  That wasn’t strictly true, but close enough to sound like it. 

“You have class at midnight?” Sam asked.  “Cool!  Dad would never let me stay out for class that late.”

Harry shrugged.  “It’s a boarding school – so it doesn’t make much of a difference.” 

Jim had seen enough to know that this boy wasn’t an immediate threat.  He discretely paged John and Bobby a code to let them know that John should get back as soon as possible, but no immediate life or death situation was happening here. 

Sam looked as though he was about to ask more questions, but before he could, Pastor Jim intervened. 

“Why don’t we all have a seat and have a nice, calm, conversation and see if we can’t get to the bottom of this.”

There was something about the man that eased some air in the room.  He reminded Harry a little of Professor Lupin – but that could be because they had just been talking about werewolves. 

The motel room had a small seating area – John, if he was there, would sleep on the sofa while the boys took the beds.  Henry sat on the couch, with Pastor Jim next to him.  Dean took the armchair closest and sharply pointed to the bed (the furthest away from the couch) for Sam to sit on.  

“So, Henry,” Jim started.

“Harry,” Harry said before he could stop himself.  He wasn’t meant to reveal that.  Well, at least it was a common nickname for Henry.  “My friends call me Harry,” he explained. 

“Harry then.  I can tell from your accent that you are British.  That means you are quite a long way away from home.  Who knows you are here?” 

Harry bristled.  He was nearly of age, after all, he could take care of himself.  “My godfather sent me.  My headmaster knows where I am too, I suppose, he told him to send me.”  Again, too much information.  He needed to keep his mouth shut. 

“And your parents?”

“Dead.” 

That answer, and the blunt delivery of it, surprised everyone present. 

“Ah, my apologies.  Did this happen recently or ….?”

“No, they died when I was a baby, thank you very much.  I don’t remember them at all.”  Again, close to the truth.  They didn’t need to know what Harry remembered when in proximity to a Dementor. 

“So, your godfather is your guardian?”

There was a slight hesitation and even Sam could tell Harry was lying when he said.  “Yes.”   Pastor Jim decided that was probably not important.  He had, at least, established that some adult probably knew this child was here and he was likely not a runaway. 

“Could you share his phone number?  John is likely going to be away for a week, and I would like to make sure you are in responsible hands.”

Harry laughed without humor, he was getting sick of the interrogations though, and was about to put himself back on a plane to England, just to get away from all of this.  “He doesn’t have a phone, so no, you can’t call him.  Really though, will it be a week before John is here?  If I could just speak to him, I could clear this all up.  He could go ahead and say he doesn’t want me and I can tell Dumbledore that I tried my bloody best and get myself back home where I belong.” 

“Dad would never turn you away – family is everything to him!” Sam injected.  He felt bad for this boy.  He knew Dean was suspicious, but this seemed too elaborate to be fake.  If this kid wanted to attack them, he probably would have already.  Dean had certainly provoked him enough.  Also, Harry looked like both his brother and his father.  His hair was darker than either but fairly close.  And he had the same nose.  Having another brother might be nice – someone who could do more than just order him around all the time. 

Jim nodded in agreement.  He could also see a family resemblance.  He also took note of the name Dumbledore – it certainly could not be a common British last name.  “Now, I’m sure there is no need for that.  I believe you.”

Dean looked at Jim with indignation.  Really? he thought, Just like that?

“Maybe you can help clarify some details if we can’t get in contact with your legal guardian.  You say you were adopted.  How long have you known?  Why would Mary and John have put you up for adoption?  You can see things from our point of view, Harry, it doesn’t make sense.”

Harry took a long, deep breath.  “I just found out, after my godfather picked me up from school at the train station.  I thought I was going to spend the summer with him, but no, surprise Harry, you’re adopted, your birth mother is dead but you still have a birth father.  It’s safest if you spend the summer with them.  Oh also, did we forget to mention that you’re American?” He stopped himself before he revealed more.  He must still be feeling that jet lag.  “Mary and John didn’t know.  I was … stolen,” this, at least wasn’t a lie.  “My parents found out that I was stolen and were going to bring me back, but before they could, they died.”  That was – at least he managed to somewhat stick to the script that Sirius had given him a little bit. 

“If Mom and Dad had had a child stolen, they never would have stopped looking.”  Dean couldn’t believe the bull coming out of this kid. 

“They didn’t know,” Harry repeated.  “The doctor told them I died shortly after delivery and took me to an adoption agency.  My parents didn’t know at the time that I was taken against my birth parent’s will.” 

That answer seemed to satisfy Jim and Sam.  Dean, not so much. 

“Well, it sounds like you’ve had a long day Harry, you too Dean.  Why don’t we go to the diner up the street for an early dinner and figure out where we should go from here.”     

Harry was hungry.  He had eaten at the hotel buffet this morning and nothing else except the glass of water that cleared him of something earlier.  Everyone agreed and piled into Pastor Jim’s car.  Dean insisted that Harry sat up front, with him and Sam in the back.  He wasn’t taking any chances with his little brother. 

III

Taking the boys to the diner allowed Jim to slip out for a moment to call John.  He could tell that Harry wasn’t telling the whole truth but didn’t think that he was at all dangerous to the boys.  Also, he had been a bit tired before getting food, and since arriving at the diner, had been very close-lipped on any personal topics. 

“Jim?” John asked when he answered the phone.  (Jim assumed it was a payphone near where he was hunting – it wasn’t a number he recognized.) 

“Yeah, John.  It’s me.  Listen.  You need to get back here.”

“Yeah, I’m on my way.  What’s going on, are my boys alright?  Dean should know how to look after Sam by now, I can’t imagine what has gotten them into a tizzy if this is something life-threatening.”

“It’s kind of hard to explain.”  There was a pause.  “John, did you and Mary lose a child between Dean and Sam?” 

Silence.  “John?”

“Yeah, we did.  Why?”  He sounded very defensive, angry, and confused. 

“Today, Dean ran into another kid at the motel.  This kid claims that he was stolen at birth – that the doctor told you and Mary that he had died, but he was put up for adoption.  His name is Henry.  Henry, uh, Henry Winchester.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow night.”  Click.  John was gone. 

Jim sighed.  This was very typical of his friend.  At least his concerns that Harry was somehow a harmful entity were completely gone.  Jim headed back into the diner, where the boys were eating in silence. 

“Uh – do you like your hamburger, Harry?”  Jim asked, trying to get the conversation going. 

“Yeah.”

“How does it compare to the ones you’ve gotten at home?”  He tried again. 

Harry shrugged.  “I’ve never had one before.  This is my first.”

“Oh.”  Jim could tell that Sam was dying to ask more questions but was refraining because of Dean’s glower.  Teenagers he thought.  A moodiness set over the table until it was time to go.  They got back to the motel. 

“Alright boys, I think you are in good hands here.  There is an adjoining room next to this one.  I’m going to talk to the lady at reception and see if we can’t get the room for the night.  Just until John gets back.”  He didn’t want to leave the three boys alone with each other.  He didn’t think Dean would hurt Harry but felt like the older boy could do some considerable damage to their relationship.  He knew that Dean didn’t believe that Harry was his brother.  And when he found out, well, he didn’t want Dean to do or say anything he might regret later. 

III

Late that night, when Harry believed his brothers were asleep (at least the sound of their television went off), he double-checked to make sure that the curtains were closed and pulled out his mirror. 

“Sirius Black,” he said. 

Sirius appeared immediately, even though it was only about 5:30 in the morning in the UK. 

“Harry!” he exclaimed loudly. 

“Shh,” Harry responded, “The boys are asleep right next door, we shouldn’t wake them up,” he said in a whisper.  He knew how thin these walls were. 

“Oh, sorry,” Sirius whispered back.  “How is it going?  Have you found John?”

“Not yet, but I did find Sam and Dean.  John is away on some sort of business trip.  Says he will be back tomorrow night.”

“Ah, well that’s good.  How are they?  I know brothers can be difficult.”

“Did you and my fath – James have trouble?”

Sirius laughed.  “No, not James, although was much more of a brother to me than my actual brother.  I had a younger brother once, Regulus, he died in the war.”

Harry didn’t know quite what to say to that. 

“That hardly matters now.  Tell me about Sam and Dean.” 

Harry told him what little he knew.  That Dean seemed overly protective and paranoid but confessed that, if it weren’t for this particular situation, Harry would find him cool.  He described how curious Sam was and how he had to dodge many questions that he couldn’t answer without revealing more than he should. 

“They sound nice,” Sirius said hopefully.  “Harry – I owe you an apology, I know that this was a crap way to find out about all of this.  It was never supposed to happen this way.  After Lily and James died, they wrote letters, to a long list of people, people who would have taken you back to the States.  But they were all contingent on my also dying.  And, well, I didn’t die, so none of the other letters got triggered.  Not even Dumbledore knew the full extent – although I always suspect that he knew more than he let on.” 

Harry accepted the apology.  “So, what’s going on there, with the war and with Vold-”

“Hold that thought, Harry, look who has just come downstairs!” Harry didn’t miss the side-stepping of his question.  But he was thrilled with the freckled face of his best friend who appeared in the mirror. 

“Ron!”  He exclaimed. 

“Harry! How are you?” His friend asked, in his normally loud voice.

“I’m great, but shh…”

“Oh right,” Ron responded quietly.  “The Dursleys.  Why are you up so early mate, did you have a nightmare?” 

Harry realized that Ron didn’t know where he was.  It was probably that way for a reason. 

“Naw, just wanted to check in before my family woke up,” strictly speaking, not a lie, Harry told himself to feel better. 

“Well hang in there mate – I was just up for a glass of water.  I’m going to go back to bed now.”  With that, he disappeared. 

Sirius came back.  “It’s getting late Harry, you should get some sleep,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.  “Why are you at Ron’s house?”

“I’m not – he’s staying here with me.  His whole family is.  Can’t tell you more, I’m afraid, will have to catch up later.” 

“Yeah, alright.  Later Sirius.”

With that, his godfather was gone.  He was beyond frustrated.  Something big was brewing, but he had been sidelined to the middle of bleeding nowhere USA.  If Ron could help surely… oh well, he saw no reason to dwell.  Harry grabbed another jet-lag potion (it was to be taken three nights in a row) and went to sleep. 

III

Harry woke early – although that was more out of regular summer habits with the Dursleys than jetlag.  He looked over at the clock on the nightstand and noticed it was six in the morning.  He got up, took a quick shower, got dressed (putting on the AC/DC shirt again – Merlin, he hoped John Winchester showed up today), and listened carefully to see if he could hear if either of the Winchester brothers were awake.  It didn’t seem to be so. 

Not quite sure what do to with himself, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a walk.  He could check in with Sirius, but decided against it, seeing as he thought it was unlikely that he would get any useful information out of his godfather anyway.  Harry was also feeling a bit stifled by the magic damping bracelet and decided to take it off for the walk – leaving both it and his cell phone behind, feeling it unlikely that anything in this sleepy American town would make his accidental magic flair up.  

It was certainly a strange town.  He was not half a mile away from the motel when he ran into a statue of a Giant Green Man.  It was early in the morning, so there was no one else around to ask why muggles or anyone would build such a thing.  

It was an hour and a half so later after he had meandered around the town and through a few parks that he returned to the motel.  He had honestly never seen any place quite like this one.  Everything was so spread out and the town had looked like one of the movies set in the Wild West that Dudley liked so much.  How far west was he?  He wondered, realizing that he had no idea where exactly in America he was.  A map would probably be helpful at some point. 

Harry stopped short of the door of his room because Dean was leaning up against it casually, as if in waiting for him, which he probably was.  

“Where have you been?” The older boy demanded.  

Harry’s good mood vanished.  “Out.  Could I get into my room please?” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed.  “Out where?” He pushed off the door, standing to his full height.  Which was taller than Harry, but that hardly meant much.  Dean was trying to be intimidating, but Harry remained unimpressed.  

He ignored the question, refusing to dignify it with a response.  “Move,” he said, followed by an always polite British, “please.” 

Dean moved slightly, allowing Harry to remove the electronic key card, which had previously been clenched in his right hand, and hold it up to the door.  

Nothing. 

Shiten thought Harry.  I bet my magic fried it.  

“Having trouble there, Harry,” Dean spat his name out as if it was something poisonous.  

Harry didn’t know what this kid’s deal was.  However, since his bracelet was off, he tried a little trick he had learned when he was locked in his cupboard as a child at the Dursleys.  He wished for the door to open.  At the time, Harry had convinced himself that the bolt was loose or Uncle Vernon forgot to lock it, but after a couple of years at Hogwarts, he learned to recognize the very small, wandless magic for what it was.  It wasn’t enough to set off any alarm bells, it barely registered as magic at all, but it worked.  

The door clicked open.  

Dean stared at him.  “It didn’t turn green.”

“What didn’t turn green?” Harry asked innocently.  

“The light – on the lock.  It normally turns green when you use the card to unlock it.” 

Harry shrugged.  “Then I’m sure it did,” he said as he pushed his way into the room.  Dean followed him in, but Harry ignored him and went straight over to the nightstand holding his magic suppressor.  He slipped it on because he could feel the magic crackling under his skin.  It was pretty embarrassing, he thought to himself, to still be doing accidental magic at his age.  

Dean made himself comfortable in the armchair at the front of the room, much to Harry’s annoyance. 

“So,” he said casually.  “I thought you said that your godfather didn’t have a phone.”

Harry blinked at him.  “He doesn’t.” 

“Then who did I hear you talking to last night?”  

“No one – you must have been hearing things.”  

“I distinctly heard you talking to someone called Ron.  He was quite loud for a couple of minutes, and I see your cell phone sitting right there.”  

“I haven’t the faintest what you are talking about,” Harry said, still nonplussed, but silently swearing at Ron in his head.  He would have to be more careful in the future, he could have sworn that Dean was asleep.  

There was a knock on the door that connected the two rooms.  Harry went over and answered it, figuring it was the younger Winchester.  And, of course, it was.  Harry was thankful for his presence, because without him there, who knew how long Dean would sit and stare at him.  

Sam came into the room.  

“Sam, I told you to stay in our room,” Dean said to his youngest brother, though not seeing particularly angry or surprised.  

Sam shrugged.  “Well, I’m sure dad’s paying for this one, just like he’s paying for ours, so that makes it ours too, right?” 

“You know what I mean Sammy.”  

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to Harry.  

“Good morning Harry!  Pastor Jim brought over some breakfast while you were out.  Are you hungry?  Where’d you go?” 

Somehow this question seemed far less invasive coming from Sam.  

“I got a bite at a bakery in town, thanks,” Harry said.  “I just thought I’d explore a little.”

“Oooh, did you see the Jolly Green Giant?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Too bad, I would have loved to show it to you, oh well, we can stop by again later.  We could walk over to Pastor Jim’s if you wanted, or I could show you where my school is.  Dean and I have been doing summer school this year, which Dean hates, but I’m enjoying it.  Do you like school? We recently did a family project actually, Dad was helping me with it the other night.  His dad’s name was Henry.  I wonder if that’s how you got your name.  Pastor Jim told Dean and me that he confirmed with Dad last night that he and Mom did lose a baby between the two of us.  Of course, he never told us about it, so we had no idea.  Did you ever suspect you were adopted?  Do you have any other siblings?  What’s it like living in England?” 

“Sam, that’s enough,” Dean barked.  

Harry, however, couldn’t help but be slightly charmed by the younger Winchester.  There was just something so … endearing about him.  And, as a “piss-off” to Dean, he decided to respond.  

“I do like school.  But not the school part,” Harry said scrunching up his nose.  “I go to a boarding school, in Scotland.  It's a castle.”

“Wow!” Sam said, eyes wide.  “And your hat says that it’s for the gifted and talented.  Was it hard to get into, is it expensive?”

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed, mortified by how friendly and familiar his brother was being.  

“What Dean, I’m just askin’.” 

“Yeah, Dean, it doesn’t hurt anything,” Harry said, mostly because he knew that it annoyed the older boy.  “It is a school for students with certain …” Harry thought for a moment, and chose his words carefully, “traits.  If you meet the selection criteria, it’s not very hard to get into at all.  And my name has been down since I was born – err, actually adopted, I suppose.  My par –” he stopped himself again.  “Lily and James, my adopted parents, went to the same school and were even in the same house.  They paid for it all then, so I have no idea how much it costs.   It’s the tradition for wi – for families that go to the school to put their children’s name down as soon as possible.”  

“What’s a house?” Sam asked.  

Harry launched into a detailed description of Hogwarts – without the magic, of course.  It might seem fantastical to Sam, but it was set up just like a normal British boarding school, so Harry didn’t feel like he was giving away too much.  

Sam looked like he was about to ask even more questions when Dean cut him off.  

“Hey Sam, we have school tomorrow.  Have you finished your homework?”  He asked as any responsible big brother would do.  

“No.  Have you?” Sam replied cheekily.  Harry chuckled.  He did like this kid.  

“Sammy,” Dean said with a warning in his voice.  

Sam huffed.  “Fine.  Harry, we normally go to the library on Sundays to do our homework.  Would you like to come with?  You could always just pick out some books if you are bored, but they also have computers you can use.”  

The invitation surprised Harry and annoyed Dean.  But the latter supposed it was for the best so that he could keep his eye on this new “brother” all day.  

“Sure,” said Harry easily.  “I have some homework to complete myself.  My best friend, Hermione, will be thrilled that I’m starting so early.  Ron and I are often putting on finishing touches on the train and it drives her mad.” 

Harry didn’t catch that he had given up that he knew someone named Ron.  Dean didn’t miss it but said nothing.  Just started building a case in his head.  

“Alright then.  Harry, Sammy, let’s go to the library.”

III

“Hey Morales, look at this,” the Auror said to his colleague.  They were both local Aurors, working in the No-Maj state of Minnesota.  Both had just barely finished their training, so they got to spend half of their day looking for magic spikes on an enchanted parchment.  Very dull work.   Happy to be distracted by something, anything, the second Auror walked over.        

“Yeah, what is it Young?”

“A very small uptick in magic.  In Blue Earth.  Like for an hour or two, there was a very powerful magical being around.  And then it just stopped, abruptly.  Didn’t wane, didn’t wind down, just a sharp drop.”

Morales shrugged.  “Probably just a fluke in the wards.” 

Young thought about it for a second.  “Yeah, probably.”

They went about their day, but from that moment on Young was watching that section of Minnesota just a little more carefully.    

III

After having spent time in the library at Hogwarts, Harry supposed no library could ever measure up.  And this one wasn’t even close.  It was very small – basically just one room with shelves lining all the walls.  In the middle, there were tables for working at – a couple of them had computers.  Even with his dampening bracelet, he knew better than to try and get near one of those. 

The three boys sat at one of the tables.  Dean made sure that he was sitting next to Sam, with Harry across the table from them.  To keep an eye on the kid.  Harry noticed but ignored it and pulled out his Potions textbook and one of the Muggle notebooks that Sirius had given him.  It would be a pain to recopy this later, but Hermione would probably approve, seeing it as an opportunity for Harry to “proofread” himself.  Maybe Potions would be more pleasant with a ballpoint pen.  

He had just opened the book and was thinking about the assignment when Sam started talking to him. 

“You take Chemistry?  That’s a Junior year class here.  Dean hasn’t even started that yet.  What grade are you in any way?” He asked quietly (keeping his voice low because they were in a library). 

Harry glanced down at his Potions book – titled, “Intermediate Potion-Making.”  He remembered that Sirius had spelled the books to look like what Muggles would expect to see. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.  I just finished my fourth year.  Year 10?”  He replied, having no idea what the American Muggle equivalent would be. 

Sam looked confused.  Dean huffed.  “How long until you graduate?”  He asked, just to try and end the conversation. 

“Err – I have three more years.”

“You just finished your freshman year then!” Sam exclaimed.  That earned him a dirty look from the librarian.  He quieted down, “Your school must be very advanced if you’re already taking Chemistry.”

Harry made a face.  “I hate it – it’s my least favorite subject.  The professor who teaches it – well, he’s a right slimy git.”   

Sam glanced slightly at the text in front of Harry.  Harry had forgotten what Sirius had said about not letting the muggles see too closely inside.  Thankfully Sam said, “Is that all in Latin?”

“Does it look like Latin?”  Harry asked. 

“Yes.”

“Then, yes, it is.  Almost all our textbooks are Latin-based.”  Harry made that up completely, hoping that if he opened any of his other textbooks the inside would also look like Latin. 

Sam looked pretty excited about that.  “If you read Latin, that is going to come in really handy –” Dean kicked him under the table. 

“Come in handy for what?”  Harry asked, wondering what reason Muggles would need to know Latin.  Being a wizard meant that he could read and write it fairly well because even though his textbooks now were in English, more advanced books tended to be in Latin. After all, that was the language most spells were in.  

“Um … for if it’s offered as an elective for next year and I need help with my homework?”  Sam could see Dean roll his eyes.  It seemed silly to conceal the truth from Harry – he was going to find out what the family business was soon enough anyway. 

“It’ll be a bit hard to help you from Scotland, but I’m sure we can write to each other.”  It was a casual comment, Harry didn’t think about it much before he said it. 

“You’re not staying?” Sam asked.    

“Uh – no?  I guess I hadn’t thought of it.  Siri – my godfather said that I just had to stay until the end of summer.  I have a plane ticket back for the end of August. School starts on September 1^st.” 

Dean frowned.  “Don’t you think it’s up to Dad what you do at the end of summer?”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Harry, he shrugged. 

“I don’t see why he would care.” 

This comment bothered Dean.  Of course, his dad would care.  All John did was care about his boys and if this one was his brother – well, he didn’t think the kid would have a chance in hell of being allowed out of John’s sight.  Well, maybe out of sight, but Harry would be dragged along on the road with the rest of them. 

Sam also looked like he wanted to object.  But he chose not to. 

The rest of the day was spent as pleasantly as possible for three boys who had just discovered that they were related and didn’t trust each other.  Pastor Jim had them over for lunch before sending them back to the library.  Dean didn’t know for sure, but he was guessing that his dad had asked the pastor to do some research on his behalf. 

They returned to the motel later that night.  Dean was pretty annoyed at how Sammy was already attached to this older boy.  And, not that he could admit it to himself, slightly jealous.  He had been taking care of Sam his whole life and the second this other kid showed up, all of a sudden it was him that Sam looked up to.

Sam had convinced Harry to hang out in their room for a bit and watch TV with them in the evening. 

“Dean, can we order pizza for dinner?” Sammy asked. 

“No.  Dad didn’t leave enough cash,” Dean responded, shutting down any further argument. 

“Um – I have some cash if that’s what Sam would really like,” Harry said. 

“Where’d you get it from?” Dean asked. 

Harry just looked at him.  “My godfather gave me some spending money before I left.  Should be plenty to get me through the summer.  I’m happy to pay for the pizza.”

Dean’s face hardened.  “We don’t need your charity.”

“But Dean!” Sam argued. 

“It’s really no big deal,” said Harry.  “And it’s hardly charity, we’re related.  You offered me breakfast this morning, was that an act of charity?”  

“No.  It’s my job to –”

“Your job to what?  I’m old enough to take care of myself.  And you and Sam, in this case.  You order the pizza; I’ve never had it before.  It’ll be educational.” 

Sam stared at the older boy.  “You’ve never had pizza?”

Harry shook his head, “Nope, not once.  My cousin always … I mean, my Aunt and Uncle were health food nuts.  No junk food in our house.”  A blatant lie. 

This was the first time that Harry had mentioned an aunt and uncle.  Dean filed that information away for later. 

“Alright.  Sam, you call the place.”

“Yay!” 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

About an hour later, the door opened.  This surprised Harry – is that how pizza was delivered here in the US? 

However, it wasn’t the pizza.  It was a man.  He was just over six feet tall.  He had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and stubble on his face.  He wore a leather jacket and jeans. 

“Dad!” Greeted Sam, running over to his father. 

Harry looked up.  “Are you John Winchester?” he asked, his stomach dropping a bit. 

“Yeah.  Who are you?”  

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Two: Chapter Three – Wayward Son: Part 1

June, 1995

When John got the SOS from Sam, he had been knee-deep into hunting what he believed to be a Rakshasa.  Of course, the alarm had put an end to that hunt – he called in another hunter and took off as quickly as he could.  Bobby and Jim had both reached out to him in the hours following, to give updates.  (Bobby was none-to-happy when he was already halfway to Minnesota when Jim had called him off.) 

John had been annoyed to be called off a hunt, thinking that his boys better hope that they had a real emergency on their hands.   But the call from Jim had made his blood run cold.  It wasn’t until after Mary’s death that he had put a lot of thought into the day his second son was born.  It, and the week proceeding had been strange. 

First, there was the British man that John had spent the day with, working on his motorcycle.  Something Black – he couldn’t remember the man’s first name and thinking about him at all was difficult, which was a red flag.  Even though John wasn’t yet a hunter, he wasn’t one to forget a face.  Or a name.  Mary had been in labor for so long – he was so exhausted and excited, that he hadn’t thought much when they whisked the baby away. 

They never even got to see the body.  They hadn’t asked either, but it wasn’t offered.  The doctor had seemed … off after the birth and in the follow-up visits.  Distracted – so much so that he and Mary had used a different doctor during her next pregnancy. 

Never in a million years did he suspect that the baby might still be alive.  He had contemplated that someone had murdered him.  That the doctor had botched the delivery.  He saw it as a cold case, something bothering him as unsolved, but there were no tracks to follow, so there was no point. 

And the name.  Henry.  That’s what really set him over the top.  Henry was the name of his no-good father who had left his wife and son.  Abandoned them.  Something John would never do to his own family.  What pretender would claim that he was named for that good-for-nothing?  It could be a coincidence if John believed in coincidences anymore.   

He drove straight through the night.  He only stopped when he needed gas – he picked up food while he did so, but otherwise, he didn’t stop until he pulled up to the motel.  Not thirty seconds later, he saw Dean come out of the room – he must have been waiting to hear the car.

“Is he in there?” John asked his son as he stepped out of the car. 

Dean nodded.  “Yeah – dad … “

John didn’t even wait for his son to speak, he just walked right in.  Sitting on the bed, watching TV next to Sam was a boy.  He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans as well as a black baseball hat that seemed to be covering up unruly, dark brown hair.  John might have thought him to be Sammy’s age, except he had the expression of someone far older. 

“Are you John Winchester?” he asked, looking the man directly in the eyes. 

“Yeah, who are you?” He asked.  He knew who this boy was claiming to be – but he hadn't even considered that it could be true until just now.

The boy moved and stood directly in front of him.  John was too fascinated to make the defensive moves he might normally make. 

“My name is Henry John Winchester.  Thank you for fixing Rosemerta.” 

A wave of memories washed over John.  Sirius Black – a British man with a punchable face but an easy demeanor and a quick wit.  He had held Dean.  He had come over to his home and accepted hospitality from his wife.  He had worn a T-shirt just like the one the boy before him wore.  He had told him – he had explained what was about to happen to his child.

“That fucking son-of-a-bitch!” John cried, startling the others in the room.  He punched the wall but wished it was that asshole’s face. 

“Where is he?” he demanded to the boy, not registering the situation or connecting the dots.  “That dick, that motherfucking jackass.” 

The boy – no, his son, flinched but didn’t move.  He stood resolute. 

“England.” He said blandly. 

“What did he do to me?” John asked, feeling his temper rise and rise as the consequences of his newly surfaced memories.  He was racking his mind for creatures that could modify memories.  There was the Glawackus or Northern Devil Cat that was said to be able to erase memories.  But there was no way to get those back.  This boy had done something to make him remember.  Oh right, the boy, John thought. 

“What is he?  What are you?”  John asked, turning his intensity towards the young man standing in front of him.

There was a nasty bent to his voice that reminded Harry strongly of Uncle Vernon.  But he wasn’t the downtrodden, unwanted, burdensome orphan that he had been growing up.  And he wasn’t going to put up with this rubbish or show any sign of weakness. 

“It’s none of your fucking business,” Harry said – trying to keep his voice neutral but failing terribly.  With those words, he turned around, went out the door, and into his motel room, which was not satisfyingly far enough away for him.  He ripped off his magic suppresser, which had begun to heat under the swelling of accidental magic brewing under his skin, pulled out his wand, and incanted, “colloportus” twice – once at the door that connected the two rooms and one at the front door.  He glanced at the window, and for good measure, he cast a quick-locking spell on it too.  He took off the Merlin-damned cap that Sirius had insisted he wear to cover his scar and threw it across the room as he sat down heavily on the bed.   

Sirius bloody Black.  He hadn’t been this angry with his godfather since he believed that the man had been responsible for his parent’s death. 

Why had he had Dumbledore thought that it was a good idea to send him to the middle of nowhere USA to a family that didn’t want him any more than the Dursleys did?  At least, on Privet Drive, Harry knew where he stood.  It was as a barely-tolerated house guest, but he knew that and could live with it. 

There was some banging on both the doors and he thought he recognized the commanding voice that Dean used on Sam, but he didn’t feel like dealing with this so-called family, so he quickly cast a “quietus” on the walls of the room, so he wouldn’t have to hear any outside sounds. 

Using magic had felt good.  During the summers at the Dursleys, even though he wasn’t able to use his wand, the sense of magic that he could feel at all times was a comfort.  Using the dampening bracelet had been like tearing out a piece of his being and he had just felt – empty, while it was on.  He wondered briefly if it was illegal for underage wizards to perform magic in the United States.  And then he decided he didn’t care.  There hadn’t been any consequences so far to the small magics he had done – calling Sirius on the mirror, frying his key card, or unlocking the door with a wish, so he doubted that the three spells he had done would set anything off.  After all - how many thousands of American witches did there have to be?  He was positive that they wouldn’t be able to keep track the same way they did in Britain.  

Harry was tempted to call Sirius now.  To give him a piece of his mind – possibly tell him how much it hurt that his godfather would prefer for Harry to spend the summer with total strangers instead of with him. 

Then there was a sharp knocking on the door.  Harry froze – someone had canceled his silencing charm.  Which meant wizards.  Shite, he thought.  As quickly as he could, he dove down between the two queen beds, picked up his hat, and rammed it down on his head.  He wasn’t sure if he was famous in the United States, but it was better safe than sorry. 

The knock came again, this time slightly louder.  “MACUSA Field Aurors!  Open up!” 

Harry didn’t dare.  Then he heard a soft, “alohomora” from the other side.  Right, wizards. 

In came two wizards dressed in what Harry assumed was American Auror uniforms.  Harry stood up and faced them – wand out. 

“Hey now,” said one.  “No need to threaten us.  Please lower your wand, son.  My name is Auror Morales, and this is my partner, Auror Young.  We’re from the field office of the Magical State, Sioux.  We detected unregistered magic use in this No-Maj residence.”

Uh-oh, thought Harry.  So, I guess the American Magical Government is more organized than I was taught. 

Professor Binns had a particular hatred towards the States and often (when not talking about Goblin Rebellions) would go off on diatribes about the backward and chaotic rule of law in America.  The Hogwarts rumor mill claimed it was because his Muggle father had died fighting for the British in the American Revolution.  These tirades were oftentimes the most entertaining part of History of Magic, so Harry had retained some information, although that information was seemingly incorrect.

Harry lowered his wand. 

“What’s your name?” Auror Morales asked him. 

“His name is Henry Winchester,” came a voice behind the Aurors, before Harry could answer.  It was Pastor Jim.

The Aurors turned around and looked at the man with curiosity. 

“I’m Jim Murphy – a Non-Practitioner.  I’m a friend of Henry’s father, he’s a No-Maj.  I’m afraid he and Henry got into a little tiff and that caused the young wizard over there to perform some magic.” 

Auror Morales looked at Pastor Jim with disgust, Auror Young simply looked interested. Harry did his best to keep the surprise off his face.  Pastor Jim was a wizard?  What exactly was a Non-Practitioner?  

“Why does this young man have his wand at all?  Magical students are not permitted to have access to their wands until they turn 17 and graduate.”  Auror Morales asked, all of his attention now on Jim. 

“He’s not American.  Well, he is, he was born here, but his mother is a British citizen.  She and Henry’s father are divorced.  Henry spends most of the year in the UK and attends Hogwarts, but because he is of age to get a wand permit, they decided that he could spend the summer with his father.  Isn’t that right John?” 

Pastor Jim turned slightly to acknowledge the extremely confused, and still pretty angry man that had silently slipped into the room during this conversation. 

“Do you have your wand permit on you, young man?” Auror Young asked Harry.  Harry had no idea what a wand permit was or what in the world Pastor Jim was talking about. 

“He hasn’t gotten it yet,” Pastor Jim interceded.  “His dad was going to take him into Minneapolis tomorrow for it.  He’s only just arrived.” 

Auror Morales narrowed his eyes.  “So, it was illegal spellwork.”

“I’m afraid so,” replied the Pastor.  “But is there any way you could let him off with a warning?  You know how young wizards can be – so temperamental, the magic was almost accidental, it was quite the blowout.  Also, he’s a foreigner, he didn’t know any better.”

Auror Morales looked like he was going to argue, but Auror Young put his hand on his shoulder to quiet him.  “I think a warning is sufficient.  No more unauthorized magic, young man.  I want to see a permit with your name on it within the week.  Am I understood?”  He said, addressing Harry. 

“Yes sir,” responded Harry, because, at the moment he didn’t feel like he could say anything else. 

“Alright – good.  Have a lovely evening, let’s go Morales.” 

The two Aurors disappeared with a “pop.” 

There was a moment of stunned silence from all in the room. 

“What the hell just happened?” Asked Dean, breaking the silence. 

Pastor Jim sighed.  “You boys better come in.  I’m afraid young Harry and I have some explaining to do.” 

III

After some arguing, some being held at gunpoint, and a lot of quick talking, all the Winchesters (including Harry) were seated in the kitchenette area of the boy’s room. 

“I will start,” said Jim.  “Seeing as I’ve known you all the longest.  John, Sam, Dean, I’m a wizard.  Sort of.” 

Everyone just looked at him. 

“I was born a wizard – we are naturally occurring, not demon-made like some of the witches you may have come across while hunting John.  There are no deals, nothing outside of ourselves, except for God, that make us the way we are.”

John didn’t look convinced.  “Then why have I never come across any of these so-called wizards?”

Jim sighed.  “I’m willing to bet quite a bit of money that you have, with all the hunting you’ve done.  Wizards are a very insular society – extremely protective of our secrets, especially in the US.  Other than me, if you’ve come in contact with any, I’m sure that you were obliviated afterward.”

“Obliviated?”

“Memory-wiped.”

“They can do that?”  John looked very concerned. 

“They can.  And do, regularly.  Anything to protect the community.  You saw what happened with your memories of Harry’s godfather.”  

“What is a Non-Practitioner?” Harry asked - he had been dying to know ever since he had heard the term. 

“I’ll be asking the questions here,” John said harshly. 

“Yeah?  How are you going to stop me from asking, you stupid Muggle?”  Not the wittiest thing Harry had ever said, but he was not impressed by this so-called father of his. 

“You wanna know - ”

“John, Harry that’s enough,” Jim said cutting off his friend.  He was a piece of work.  “I can answer everyone’s questions if we don’t devolve into an argument.  You don’t have Non-Practitioners in England?”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Harry replied, completely ignoring the glares from John (and Dean – on behalf of John). 

“I suppose without Rappaport’s Law, we probably don’t exist in the UK.  Here in the US, relationships, even friendships, between wizards and No-Majs were forbidden.  The law has been repealed, but there the prejudice is still strong.  They say it’s to protect the community, but I think it’s pure bigotry.  I fell in love with a No-Maj when I was young.  Rather than give her up, I chose to become a Non-Practitioner or Nonpracti in some circles.  That meant that I officially swore to give up magic – to avoid harassment from others and Aurors.  My wand was snapped and I’ve lived as a No-Maj ever since, even after my wife was killed.”  

Harry was horrified.  He couldn’t imagine giving up magic for anything.  Jim could read the expression on his face. 

“I wasn’t a particularly good or powerful wizard before.  Except for a few small spells, magic was always very difficult for me.  My parents didn’t even bother to send me to Ilvermorny, although I think that was more to protect themselves from embarrassment.” 

“What is Ilvermorny?” Sam asked, unable to keep himself out of the conversation any longer.  Dean glared at him.

“Ilvermorny is the American school for Witchcraft and Wizardry – considered one of the best in the world.” 

“There are schools?” John asked, incredulous. 

“Why yes, of course, how else would you expect young witches and wizards to learn the craft?  And don’t say through dark means, John, I’ve already explained, that in our community, it is natural, we’re born with these powers.   Some of us are more powerful than others – I have to say that your son has displayed more ability in the two spells he cast earlier than I probably ever did.”

John wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be pleased about that. 

“There are a lot of Nonpractis who end up as hunters.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew more of us.  Actually – yeah, your friend Missouri?”

“What about her?”

“She’s also a Nonpracti – a powerful Legilimens, but her wand work was also never strong, like me.  So, you see, you’ve already, somewhat knowingly associated with at least two members of the wizarding world.  Wizards are just like everyone else – some are good and some are bad but that doesn’t change that underneath either, they are human.” 

This was a lot of new information for John, but he understood it in principle.  He’d do some more research later – maybe consult with Bobby.  Jim had assuaged his worries for the moment.  He believed that the Pastor wasn’t a threat to himself or his sons, even if he was a wizard. 

Jim continued, “Harry here though, he’s a proper wizard.  Was I right earlier, are you a Hogwarts student?”

Harry nodded.  He thought it wise to continue to let the Pastor talk.  Sirius and Dumbledore (or MACUSA) could hardly fault him for information that he wasn’t providing.   

“But you said that your school was called Saint Bosco’s – like your hat!”  Sam exclaimed. 

“Samuel, if you interrupt one more time, I’m going to make you go sit in the car,” John said.

Sam looked pissed but didn’t say anything else. 

“It was the hat that gave you away,” said Jim, addressing Harry.  “You probably don’t want to go around wearing it – it shouts out to wizards and Nonpractis alike that you’re both British and a wizard.  Makes you stand out like a sore thumb.  American witches and wizards are a bit obsessed with Hogwarts – they’ll know the cover name.  It was that plus your mention of Dumbledore that made me certain you were a wizard.  I couldn’t feel any magic on you though, so I was a bit thrown off.” 

Harry held up his arm to show Jim the bracelet.  “Ah, yes, I see.”

“See what?” Asked John. 

“He’s wearing a suppressor.  I should have noticed – I must be losing my edge in my old age.  It suppresses his magic.  Why are you wearing it?”

“My godfather gave it to me – said it would allow me to use a mobile for a short time, in case of an emergency.  It shorted out the other day though – I don’t know how useful it will be.”  What he didn’t mention was that it was a way of making sure that MACUSA wouldn’t know Harry Potter was entering the country. 

Jim knew this meant that Harry was stronger than the average wizard.  He, not for the first time, wondered if there was a lot more to this story.

As this conversation was getting John more and more frustrated.  “Ok, I get it, the kid has power.  None of this explains why this happened to my family.  Why was he taken?  If they could wipe my memory, wouldn’t they have been more careful about it?  Make so Mary and I never even knew we had another son – surely that would have been …” What it would have been was unclear. 

“Oh, now you wish you DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I EXISTED?”  Harry shouted.  This was unbelievable.  He could feel the bracelet begin to heat a bit.  And he fought the urge to flee the motel and get back to Britain as quickly as possible. If Dean hadn’t positioned his chair to be right in front of the motel room door, he might be gone already.  Arse, Harry thought. 

“I’m sure that’s not what he meant Harry,” Pastor Jim tried to calm him.  “This is a lot to take in.  John, when did you start hunting?”

This question took John by surprise.  “After Mary died, why?”

“Is there anyone else in your family that are hunters?  Was Mary?” 

John was perplexed.  “Not to my knowledge.  Her father was a little intense – didn’t think much of me, at least.  But a hunter?  I doubt it.”

Harry had stopped silently seething enough to contribute again.  “My godfather did say that I was taken because of the Purpura Convention – it’s an archaic law in the UK, but is still followed here.  When a witch or wizard was born to a really important Muggle family, they would be taken away to protect both the child and the International Statute of Secrecy.”

“Here in the US, because we don’t have a royal family, we use the Convention to take children away from hunters – because in the ‘20s and ‘30s there were a lot of wizard children killed by their hunting parents.” 

“They … they thought we would kill our child?”  John asked.  There was nothing that would make Mary and himself ever do anything to hurt their children.  Sam and Dean were everything to them.  The only thing for John, other than revenge on whatever had killed his wife. 

“It was more common than you would think.  You know how hunters are – they don’t trust anyone and if they thought their child was a non-natural kind of witch…”

John swallowed hard.  He turned to look at the boy, no, his son, really for the first time.  His son.  His second-born, dead son.  The son he and Mary had mourned and nearly lost their marriage over.  He wore glasses, but John could see Mary’s eyes – both in color and shape staring through.  His nose was just like Dean’s, and his face, the shape and contours of it, were his.  There was also something behind his middle son’s eyes.  John didn’t know what his boy had encountered in his life, but his eyes were like many of his war buddies.  

“Henry,” he breathed.  “Henry Winchester.”

“Henry John Winchester!” Sam had decided that the tension in the room had diffused just enough that he could talk again.  “He’s named after you Dad.  But he goes by Harry – just like the Prince of England.  But his hair isn’t red.”

That made Harry smile – which, in turn, relaxed all present, finally.  Except for Dean. 

“So, it’s true?” He asked his dad.  “This kid is really our brother?  Our full, real, brother?” 

“Yes,” John answered at the same time that Sam said, “Of course he’s our full brother!  Can’t you see – he has your nose and eyes, Dean?  And dad’s ears.  I can’t tell the color of his hair very well – he’s always wearing that hat.” 

Dean reached over and removed the baseball hat before Harry could protest.  His dark brown hair spilled out – messy as always. 

“Looks darker than yours and dad’s Sammy, and messier.  He looks too skinny though.  Oh – ” That made Dean remember.  “That pizza came – I used the cash you put out, but you have to be starving.  It might be a bit cold, wait, is that a scar on your forehead?  A lightning bolt?”

Harry stood stock still.  The tension ramped right back up as Pastor Jim stood and walked over to the boy. 

“No – it can’t be.”

“Can’t be what Jim?” John asked, seeing the change in both his son and his friend. 

“You’re Harry Potter.” It wasn’t a question.

Bloody hell, Harry thought.  This is exactly what he wanted to avoid.

“Potter?”  John asked.  “Lily and James Potter – yes, Sirius said those were the names of his friends who were going to take in the baby – um, you.” 

Oh, that confirmed it.  Woah, Jim thought. That’s going to make this even more complicated.

“What does that mean, Jim?”

The pastor took a deep breath.  “I’m afraid that is not my story to tell,” he said getting up and looking Harry in the eyes.  “In fact, it’s pretty late, I should get going.  Harry, I strongly recommend that you keep that hat and bracelet on.  I may be out of touch with the everyday events of the wizarding world, and live a country away, but if people knew you were here…”

“What?  Why would anyone care if he was here?”  John demanded. 

“It wouldn’t be safe.  Especially for him, and probably not for the boys or yourself either.  You were planning on taking the boys to Bobby’s after they finished the term next week?” 

“Yeah,” although all summer plans seemed irrelevant now. 

“I say stick with that plan.  I’ll fill Bobby in – he’ll need to know.  Also, you’ll need to take Harry up to Minneapolis tomorrow to get that wand permit.  I think that would be for the best.  I’ll message you the address in the morning.”         

“But –” John said as Jim had his hand on the door. 

“Trust me on this John.  Good night.  And good night to you boys too.”

Jim left.  John sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night.  He wanted to demand more answers, but goddamnit, he was just too tired. 

“Alright, Dean, Sam, Harry, it’s time for bed.  Two of you have school in the morning.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts Sam.  Dean – get Sam ready for bed.  You two can take these two beds, and since Jim was kind enough to put a second room on the card, Harry and I will sleep next door.” 

This was going to be one hell of a summer. 

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Two: Chapter Four – Wayward Son: Part 2

June, 1995

Normally, it was Dean that protested going to school.  Not a lot, mind you, but John knew that school wasn’t his eldest son’s thing.  This was something that John understood.  The school learning he had done hadn’t been what had prepared him most for his life – he had gotten his education from war, and it had served him well.

His youngest son had a passion for learning and regularly complained about how moving around so much disrupted his education.  He wanted to be normal, whatever the hell that meant and even wanted to go to college.  John would cross that bridge when he came to it.  But, this particular morning Sam, for the lack of a better term, was being an outright brat.

Sam had gotten up earlier than everyone else and left a note for his dad and brother that said he had decided to go to school early to finish some last-minute adjustments to his end-of-term project.  Neither John nor Dean had bought it and together they had yanked him out from under the backseat of the Impala, where he had been planning to stow away.

“Sam, listen to Dad,” Dean said, in his best I’m-the-big-brother-you-better-listen voice.  “It’s our last week, you were so excited, remember you have your project presentation today?”

“I know, but I wanna go to Minneapolis with Dad and Harry!  They’re going to a magical police department.  That is far more educational than school.”

“From what Jim says, it’s going to be more of a magical DMV son.  You are going to school.  That’s an order.”  An early morning phone call had prepped John for what he might encounter at the wand permit office.

Sam pouted and turned to his older brother, “But Dean…” This usually worked to at least get Dean to intercede on his behalf.  But the first-born Winchester was having none of it.

“That’s enough Sam.  Go get your backpack.  Dad’s going to have to drive us to school today because you’re making us late.”

“Fine,” he huffed and stomped back to the motel room.

Harry had watched all of this with a level of amusement, but he quickly hid that when John turned his way.

“Do you have all of your documents?”

“Yes,” he responded shortly.

“That’s yes sir,” said Dean.

Harry turned to him.  “There’s no need to call me ‘sir’ Dean – just Harry is fine.”

“I’m gonna rip your throat out.”  He started towards Harry, but John stopped him with a hand on the chest.

“Boys – it is too early in the day for this.  I haven’t even had my coffee yet.  Dean, go get your brother, he’s dawdling.”  Dean walked off, in a similar huff as Sam had earlier.

John and Harry stood in silence, neither knowing what to say to the other.

Dean and Sam re-emerged.  Dean went to sit up front, as he normally would, but John shook his head slightly.  Annoyed, he got in the back.  If he hadn’t had too much respect for the car, he would have slammed the door shut.

It was a very short drive to the schools and it took less than ten minutes to drop each boy off before John and Harry were on the road.

It was about a two-hour drive to Minneapolis and both father and son felt like it was going to be the longest two hours of their lives.

“So, would you like to tell me about how you got that scar?”  Tact wasn’t one of John’s strong suits.

“No,” replied Harry.

Silence.

“How about how Jim knew who you were – what are you some kind of prodigy?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Look, Harry, I know we didn’t get off on the best foot yesterday.  And I’m not one for soppy speeches, but it’s hardly my fault you were taken.  We wanted you, Mary and I.  After you died – well, after you were taken, I honestly didn’t know if we were going to make it.”

Harry remained unmoved.  He had seen the fear and disgust in John’s eyes when he had found out about wizards.  That non-apology wasn’t going to work.

“Alright, maybe we start with something easier.  Sirius is your godfather, right?  I met him once, helped him fix his motorcycle – although I suppose you knew that.  He seemed great, you know before the whole baby stealing thing, what was it like to grow up with him around?”

“I haven’t the faintest.  I didn’t meet him until I was 13.”

That surprised John.  “Jim said that your – that Lily and James passed away when you were a baby.  If Sirius didn’t raise you, who did?”

Harry didn’t want to answer that question.

“Come on, that can be that difficult to answer.”

“My Aunt and Uncle – on my mother’s side.”

“Oh.  They nice?”

Harry snorted as an answer.

“Alright, since you seem short on answers this morning, why don’t you ask me something?”  John tried, finally, in a last-ditch effort.

Harry thought for a moment.  “What is it exactly that you do for a living?”

John thought that he already knew.  “I’m a hunter.”

“Yes, I understand that.  And I know what a hunter is,” the subject of hunters had been very briefly touched upon in Sirius’ letter, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and an occasional spooky story in Gryffindor Tower.  Harry thought Lockhart must have had a book called, “Hunkering Down with Hunters” or something equally ridiculous.  He highly doubted that it was a reliable source of information.  “But what does that entail?”

“I hunt down supernatural monsters that are killing innocent humans.”

Harry rolled his eyes – a sign of disrespect that John normally would not have tolerated from one of his sons.

“Yeah, great.  Why though?  And how to find what … creatures to hunt?”

“Mary – your mom, was killed by a supernatural creature.”

“Oh.  Have you killed whatever did it?”

“Not yet.”

More silence.  Normally silence was just fine with John, certainly better than constant bickering from Sam and Dean, but he was determined to get to know Harry.

So, he told him about hunting.  What it was like on the road, what methods it took to kill some creatures.  How he hadn’t caught wind of figuring out what had killed his wife yet, but each hunt brought him closer and closer.  It was more talking than John had done in a long time.  Harry simply listened, pretending that he wasn’t interested, even though John could tell he was.

Hunters weren’t well respected in the wizarding world.  They were generally seen as a necessary evil, but brutal, savage and to be avoided at all costs by any respectable wizards.  Ron had also told him that they served as boogeymen to wizarding children – dangerous muggles that would kill them if they saw them performing magic in public.  They posed little threat to adult wizards but Harry knew that Death Eaters had targeted them for easy “Muggle hunting” during the war.  However, what John was describing sounded far more impressive.  Like rogue Aurors protecting Muggles from creatures that they could never understand.  

Before either of them knew it, they had arrived at the MACUSA field office.  John parked the Impala and walked towards the building with his son.  It looked like a regular Gas 'n Sip to the older man, but he had checked the address three times and this was where Jim had said to look.

Harry seemed unphased coming up to a normal building, like this one.  The only tick of nervousness that was obvious was how he tried to lower his baseball hat as low as possible over his forehead to hide his scar.  He, did, however, leave his magic suppressor in the car.

As they went in, everything looked completely normal about this Gas 'n Sip, down to the dirty floors and an acne-riddled teenager with an attitude at the cash register.   But clearly, things were quite different for his son, who looked pretty surprised.  That or they didn’t have Gas 'n Sips in England.

While Harry could see the regular Muggle façade of this convenience store, he could also see the wizarding modifications.  This appeared to be a shopping center of sorts for wizards.  There were signs (that Harry assumed were only visible to the magically inclined) that indicated where to go to enter different businesses or government offices.  The aisle with automobile supplies led to the Office of Magical Transport.  The donut case had a knob that would take you to an apothecary.  It took a few awkward moments for Harry to spot where they needed to go.

“This way,” he said to John, who seemed to be waiting on him for instruction.  They approached one of the refrigerated cases of beer, and Harry opened the door.

“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?”  John asked.

Harry ignored him (something that was rapidly getting on John’s nerves).  He reached his hand in and it disappeared.  He grinned.  “It’s just like Platform 9 ¾.”

Of course, John didn’t know what that was.  “This will probably be easier if you take my hand,” Harry said, reaching his arm out to his father.  John took it, thinking this was the first physical contact that he had ever gotten to have with his son.  Before he knew it though, he was in motion, falling through the case in one dizzying step.

“Woah,” said Harry, “Not like Platform 9 ¾.”  He looked a little green.  The pair took a couple of seconds to take in their surroundings.  This room did look like a DMV, after all.  Directly in front of them was a check-in desk.  There was a partial wall behind it, allowing them to see a room full of chairs and different stalls with workers.  There were no screens though – the numbers over each stall seemed to be charmed there.  And everyone looked bored.

A young woman was sitting at the desk, flipping through what looked like a tabloid – but the pictures were moving.

“Wand and ID please,” she said, without looking up.    Harry nervously placed his wand on a scanner of sorts and handed over his American passport.  After placing it there, words appeared above it – “11 inches, Holly, Phoenix Feather – Professional Grade.”

“Please state your business.”

“Err – I’m here for a wand permit?”

“Hand please.”

Harry was perplexed, but the woman took out a rubber stamp that made an impression on Harry’s skin.  It said, “Stalls 10 – 12, 20:00 minute waiting time, Place in Line: 5.”  Harry watched in fascination as the ink on his skin changed, noting a countdown in time.

“Here is the form you need to fill out, be sure to take it up with you to the desk.  Next,” she said to John, handing Harry a piece of parchment attached to a clipboard.

“Uh – I’m with him.”

“Wand and ID please.”  John fished his driver’s license out of his wallet and handed it over.

“Wand please.”  She said, sounding slightly impatient.

“I don’t have one.”  She looked up for the first time.

“Are you a Non-Practitioner?”  She asked with surprise.

“Uh – no.  I’m not a wizard.”

The witch looked downright terrified.  “How did you get in here?”  She demanded, “I’m going to have to report a breach of the …”

“He’s with me,” Harry interrupted.  “My,” and he hesitated for a moment, “my father.  And legal guardian.  Look at our IDs.”

Don’t hurt yourself kid, John thought at Harry’s strained admission.  He was also thankful that he had an ID with his real name on it – he didn’t often carry one.

Once she had confirmed that the last names on the IDs matched and, looking at them realized that they looked like father and son she said, “Oh alright, proceed.”

The two went into the waiting room and took a seat.  The time stamp on Harry’s hand continued to run down – they were only a couple of minutes into the wait when John noticed something strange in the magazines.  At first, it was interesting the picture was moving.  Then it was interesting because he was pretty sure he recognized the young man on the cover.  He stared for a couple more minutes before picking it up. Harry had busied himself filling out the form, doing his best to ignore his father and avoid eye contact. John tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.  Harry turned.

“Is this you?”  John asked.  Harry’s face went ashen gray and he snatched the magazine away.  It was one that Harry had never seen before, “Weekly Wizarding World News.”  On the cover, sure enough, there he was.  This edition must be a couple of months old.  It was him with Ron and Hermione – the three of them staring up at the judges after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.  There was a smudge of dirt on his face, but it must have been taken shortly after one of his better scores had gone up because he looked really happy.  Below the headline read, ‘Potter Places on Top – What Can’t the Boy Wonder Do?’ and just below it ‘More coverage and exclusive photographs from the Tournament.’

“I was right,” John said a little louder than Harry would have liked.  “You are a child prodigy.”

“Shh,” Harry said quickly, as an elderly wizard looked over their way.  “Er – not really, that was, well it’s kind of hard to explain…”

John was just beginning to open the magazine when Harry noticed that the timer had gone down more quickly than he thought it would.

“Oh, look at that, it’s time, looks like stall 12.  Let’s go.”  They went over and Harry noticed that his father did not place the magazine back.

There was a middle-aged witch with silver glasses and a serious face waiting for them.

“Name please.”

“Henry Winchester,” Harry managed to say without hesitating.

“You’re here to apply for a wand permit?”

“Yes.”

“Name your school.”

“Hogwarts.”

That caught the woman’s attention.  “Hogwarts?  Really?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Her serious expression turned to one of delight.

“Sally,” she said to the woman in the stall next to her.  “This kid goes to Hogwarts.  I bet you’ve had an exciting year!  What with the tournament and all?  What house are you?”

“Gryffindor,” Harry replied before he could think to try and conceal the truth.

“Oh – I always thought I’d be a Ravenclaw.  Isn’t that right Sally?  Sally is a total Slytherin, of course, look at her in her green scarf.  And you’re in the same house as Harry Potter.  Do you know him?  What’s he like?  Oh, that coverage of after that poor Diggory boy died.  He looked so devastated.  They are saying he’s crazy, but I don’t believe them one bit, he seems like such a sweetie.”

Harry was completely mortified.  He had never wanted the floor to swallow him so much in his life.   John thought he looked just like Sam when his youngest son was embarrassed and found it hilarious, but he did his best, for everyone’s sake, to keep a straight face.

“So, do you know him?”  She prodded after there was no response.

“Yes?  We’re in the same house, so you know, he’s around.”

“What did you say your name was again dear?”

“Henry Winchester,” he repeated.

“I’ve never seen your picture with him, and I’ve collected all of them, haven’t I Sally?”  Sally, for what it was worth was trying her best to ignore the woman next to her and do some work.

“Well, I have.  He’s always with that Granger girl and Weasley boy.  Now, I don’t like the look of that girl, the papers say she broke his heart and I can’t have…”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Harry interrupted, trying his best to put on an American accent.  It came out like he was from Texas – if the accent had a place at all, it was pretty awful.  “My father and I are on a bit of a time crunch.  What do I need for the wand permit?”

“Oh, of course, of course, I could just gossip all day.  Can I see your ID?”

Harry handed it over.

“Perfect, just perfect, I’ll just make a copy then,” she used her wand to copy the image from Harry’s passport onto a piece of parchment.

“And your form?”

Harry handed it over and she made another copy.  She handed it back to him.

“That will be 40 dragots, dearie.”

Harry reached for the small bag of wizarding coins Sirius had given him.  He hoped he had enough American wizarding currency to cover this.  Of course, Sirius had planned for him needing some, and he had quite a bit.  He looked at the currency with interest, before giving her the exact amount required.

“Lovely, I love a prepared student.  Of course, Dumbledore only accepts the best, doesn’t he?  Here is your receipt, your ID back, and a copy of your form.  All of this will be sent over to England to confirm your enrollment.  I’m sure it’s all in order.  We’ll owl you the permit within 9 – 12 business days after we’ve got the confirmation.  Remember, if you want to avoid a fine, no wand work in the meantime, and once you get it, keep to spells Freshman level and below to avoid a visit from Field Aurors.  How exciting, that I get to write to Dumbledore.  I’ve never had a Hogwarts student before.”

“Great,” said Harry.  “Do you need anything else, ma’am?”

“Oh, so polite.  That’ll be all.  Have a wonderful day Henry, and be sure to give my love to Harry Potter, let him know that he has some real support here in America.  We believe him all the way.”  She beamed and Harry pulled his cap down a little lower.

“Uh – yeah, if I see him, I will.”

And the two of them left, returning the Gas 'n Sip.

As soon as they did, Harry turned to John.  “You have a lot of questions, don’t you?”  He was dreading this conversation – but he didn’t see a way to avoid it.  Especially if he was going to be following Sirius’ directions for the summer.  And it was just John, so he didn’t have to worry about the International Statute of Secrecy – blood parents were allowed to know.

“Oh, I would say a few.”

“It’s just – it’s just that it’s kind of embarrassing.”

John leveled him with a look, “I kind of don’t care.”

“Oh… well, there is a bookshop over in the corner with the Slurpee machine.  It might – it might be easier if I pick up a couple of books?”

“There are books written about you?  More than one?”  Harry flinched.

“Yeah, although I don’t know if they will have them here in America.  But from what that lady said…”

“Got it.  Well, to the Slush machine, we go.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to just, um, just stay here?”  Harry really wanted to avoid another awkward encounter.

“Nope.  I think it best if I stick with you.  Although maybe you should leave the talking to me, your American accent was, well I’m sorry to say it, it was terrible.”

Harry blushed.  “Alright then.”

III

The bookshop was quite different from Flourish and Blotts.  For one it was – brighter.  And there were a lot more colors.  Being a Monday morning, it was still pretty quiet.  There was a man, who looked to be about John’s age working the counter.  Harry wanted to spend as little time as possible in the Wizarding World – at least when he had his – when he had John with him.

“Er, I think it might quickest to just ask him for Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”  Those were the three books that he remembered Hermione said that she had read about him.  Hopefully, they were the only three.

John raised an eyebrow; his curiosity was even more heightened – what the hell had his son been involved with?  He went over to the counter and asked for those titles exactly.  The man chuckled.

“Interested in Harry Potter, then?” He asked.  Harry inwardly groaned.  This was going to be bad.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Never understood the fascination, but it sure does sell books.  ‘Round the corner on the right you’ll find the Harry Potter section, lined with Gryffindor gold and red, you can’t miss it.  I also highly recommend Harry at Hogwarts, that’s been a bestseller recently.”

“Harry Potter section?” John mouthed at Harry as they moved that way.  Harry just shrugged, thinking that just telling John about his past may have been less embarrassing.

Sure enough – taking up one whole bookshelf, in proud Gryffindor red and gold, was the Harry Potter section.  Honestly, Harry would have preferred to have been in front of Voldemort at this moment in time.  He had known about those three books, but he had had no idea.  There was a section dedicated to the more serious, academic texts, that he had already known about.  But also, there seemed to be … comic books?  Oh yes, those were Harry Potter comic books.  And a cookbook – Eat with Harry Potter.

“Is that Hedwig?”  He asked aloud, seeing tiny stuffed animal snowy owls – that were magical of course, so they preened and eyed him.

“What’s a Hedwig?” John asked.

“She’s my owl,” Harry said as quietly as possible.  “A pet – wizards use owls for the post.”

“Ok then.”

The horrors continued.  There were “Potter – 7 Quidditch jerseys, with the Gryffindor crest on the front.  And a flying manual – “Harry Potter’s Tricks and Tips – Taken from Eye Witness Accounts of his Quidditch Games.”

The two of them just stood there for a moment, until Harry couldn’t take it anymore.  “Alright, I’m just going to take those three books I mentioned earlier and, eh, I guess the Harry at Hogwarts book he suggested.  I have no idea what’s in there, but, um…”

Noting his son’s extreme discomfort, John agreed.  They took the books up to the counter (Harry pulled his hat down some more), and Harry all but threw the money at the man.  Father and son were just turning to leave when the man said, “I almost forgot!  You spent over 70 dragots, that means you get a free Gryffindor scarf.”

“Oh, I don’t think…”  Harry started.

John beamed though.  “Perfect, I’m sure Sammy will love it.”  The man handed over the scarf and they left the store.

“How about you and I go and get some lunch Henry,” John said once they had gotten back into the Gas 'n Sip.  “I saw a diner down the street – I think we have some things to talk about.”

Harry gulped at the sharp edge in John’s voice but nodded in agreement. 

III

This was the second American diner that Harry had gone to in his time in the US so far.  He got the impression that the Winchester family ate at them regularly.  After they had sat down and ordered some food, it became abundantly clear that Harry’s monosyllabic responses from this morning weren’t going to cut it anymore.  It wasn’t that he was afraid of John – but there was an authority about him that Harry had only ever felt while talking to Dumbledore.  He still didn’t trust the man, but clearly, there would be no point in trying to hide the truth.

“Alright, son, how about we start at the beginning?  Sirius Black, that son-of-a-bitch, told me, in that memory that you were going to brought back to Mary and me after three months.  Do you know what happened?”

Harry swallowed.  “My parents – Lily and James, that is, they were fighting in a war.”

“A war?”  John thought he knew about most modern military conflicts.  He recalled something between Ireland and the UK being on the news in the 80s, but that didn’t seem to fit.

“A magical war,” Harry said quietly.  “There was this wizard, named Voldemort, who was stirring up trouble while my par – while Lily and James were at Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts is your school?”

“Yeah.  He was, is, a blood purist.”  John gave him a look to encourage him to continue.  “He believes that Muggleborns, witches, and wizards born to two non-magical parents are … less than witches and wizards who can trace their family lines back further.  Which is total codswallop!  My best friend, Hermione, is Muggleborn and she’s the best witch in all of Hogwarts.  But he started to gain power, and followers and people started believing in him.  My parents – they worked with Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster at my school, to try and fight him and his influence.  Voldemort decided to come after them.  In his letter to me, Sirius said that he found out about me, me being a Potter, that is, and they worried about my safety, so they took me into hiding with them.  They thought that they could protect me better, I guess, and they planned to return me when it was safe, but…”

“They died?” John asked, the picture becoming clearer.  It was obvious that Harry was having a hard time finishing the story.

“Yeah.  He found us – we were betrayed and he came to the house and he killed them.”

“But not you?”

This was extremely uncomfortable for Harry so he pushed his fries around a bit on his plate.  He’d never actually had to tell anyone this story before – everyone already knew.

“He couldn’t.”

That’s not what John was expecting.

“Why not?”

“My mother – Lily, she died trying to protect me, she begged him to kill her instead.  He had already killed James.  But he killed her to get to me and … well his curse, the killing curse, somehow bounced off of me and rebounded, killing him – or at least, everyone thought, defeating him at the time.  That’s how I got this scar – it’s cursed.  It’s also why I’m famous.  Which isn’t fair!  My mum is the one who saved the wizarding world, not me.”

John didn’t know what to feel.  His anger of having his son taken away – Mary’s son taken away had been so all-consuming in the last day or so.  He never thought that he would have this secondary emotion – gratitude.  If it weren’t for Lily Potter, he never would have met, what he was beginning to believe, this amazing boy in front of him.  He could feel the pride that Mary would have in him, for having gone through so much… so much by age –

“How old were you?”

Harry swallowed.  “It was Halloween of 1981 - I was just over a year old.”

Older than Sammy was when Mary had been killed.

“And he’s dead – this Voldemort guy?”

“He didn’t die.  But he … disappeared.”

“So, he’s no longer a threat?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably.  “He wasn’t – until a couple of weeks ago.  There was this tournament…I had no choice, I had to compete in it, and the cup, it was a portkey, and I was in the cemetery, and he killed Cedric and he came back.  He’s back.  And that’s why I’m here.  The Ministry doesn’t believe me and Dumbledore and Sirius…they said it would be safest here.   And Sirius also said, he wrote, that this is what Lily and James wanted.”

A lot of that was garbled nonsense to John.  Something extremely traumatic had just happened to his son.  Was still happening to his son.  He knew the look of someone who had been to war – and Harry had it.  John could practically feel all the loss, heartache, and fear this boy was feeling.  And it broke his heart, something that he didn’t think he was capable of feeling anymore. He’d spent every minute since Mary died trying to avenge her and protect their boys by preparing them to face what was out there in the world.  And yet, here was Harry, who had experienced everything John wanted to prepare his sons for, and more, but this son had had no parent to teach him the ropes.  It was clear that Harry was emotionally spent, so John decided to stop asking him questions.  They’d have plenty of time to catch up later.  A lifetime because there was no way in hell John was going to let his son go back to those wizards.  It was not safe.

“Alright then,” John said.  “Thank you for answering my questions.”

Harry looked at him in disbelief.  “That’s it?”

“I think that’s plenty for now.  I’ll get the bill and we’ll head back to Blue Earth – if we leave soon, we’ll be able to pick Sam and Dean up from school on the way back to the motel.”

“After all that – you’re going to let me stay with you?”  Harry asked in a small voice.  Uncle Vernon would have left him to find his own way home after learning everything Harry had just revealed.  Hell, even Sirius, left hours after meeting Harry for the first time.  He half expected John to drive him straight to the airport.

John’s heart broke again.

“Of course, you’re a Winchester, aren’t you?  You’re home son, and I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.  You’re going to have to learn to get along with Dean and help look after Sammy.  But you will be up for the task.”

While Hogwarts had felt like Harry’s home since he started, there was something in him that lit up at the thought of home as people – not a building.

The two of them got up, paid the bill, and headed to the Impala.  Harry didn’t know what this summer would bring, but it would be better than any summer he had ever spent with the Dursleys.     

III

To human eyes, the room would have appeared to have been a large executive office – including a sizable desk and throne-like chair.  To those who could actually see the office, it must have looked quite different but is indescribable in any language known to man.

“You asked to see me, brother?”  Zachariah asked.  It wasn’t often that Michael requested his presence.  Or anyone’s really.

“Yes, please, come in,” Michael responded.  “I have a task for you.  There has been a…potential disturbance in our plans – God’s plans.”

That certainly got Zachariah’s attention.  He knew exactly what his brother was talking about – this wasn’t the first time they’d spoken of potential problems.  “I thought that was all taken care of, by them.”  He spat the last word as if it were something disgusting in his mouth.

“As did I.  But per usual, they may have set things off course.  Please know, I don’t blame you brother, they have always been a blight.  I counseled Father many times on how they should all be destroyed.  But, in His infinite wisdom, he is fond of them.  As he loves all his creations, he has a soft spot for them.  Insists that they are the best of both angels and humans.  And, as you know, I don’t question our Father.”

“Of course, not, brother.  What would have me do?”

“For now – just keep a watchful eye.  Be prepared for my summons, should we need to interfere.”

“Of course.  God be with you brother.” Zachariah demurred, knowing that he was being dismissed.

“And also, with you.”

The second-born Winchester was a problem that Michael thought had been solved, after all, it was, he who orchestrated divine inspiration in Lily Potter.  (Through her non-magical parents, of course, God would never allow his angels to interfere with them directly.  He had made sure that she was brought up to fight against perceived injustices.)  He had hoped not to get his – or any angel hands dirty in this business, but the Winchesters had a path to follow, and he was going to ensure that they did.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Two: Chapter Five – Flying, Werewolves, and Dragons

July 12, 1995

At the end of the week of classes, all four Winchester men headed to Bobby's. Harry knew that they weren't related to Bobby, but since both boys called him, "Uncle," he figured that he was a close family friend.

The first week had passed fairly peacefully. Bobby had insisted on testing all of them, of course, but he was particularly wary about Harry being a wizard, it seemed that Pastor Jim had convinced him enough that he didn't think that the boy was evil. It was at the end of the week after they had celebrated Harry's first 4th of July, that John announced that the boys had done enough lying about and it was time to get back to training.

He did so by blaring an air horn in the boy's room at about 7:30 in the morning. (Bobby's place wasn't particularly big, so John had bought a bunk bed to go where one of the twin beds used to be. Sam, of course, begged for the top bunk, which made Dean insist on sleeping on the bottom, the best position to protect his younger brother, while Harry took the remaining, unbunked bed.)

The air horn was just for Sam and Dean's benefit. Harry was already awake, dressed, and waiting in the kitchen.

"Up and at 'em," John ordered. "I want both you of showered, dressed, and ready to go by 0800 hours. Beds made too!"

Dean had already gotten out of bed and started making it – military-style the way that his dad had taught (or drilled) into him. Sam groaned. "But Dad, it's the summer!" He whined.

"No whining. I've let you boys have almost a full week off. That's more than enough time. There will be pushups for every second you're late. We're starting with a morning run, so you might want to try and get some stretches in too."

"Yes, sir." They both replied.

John left them to get ready. In the kitchen, Harry had made coffee. John didn't know how, but his middle son had managed to always wake before Bobby and himself and get the coffee going. When asked, he had simply shrugged it off and said he had been doing it since he was little. He hadn't said much about his Aunt and Uncle since coming here, but John had his suspicions, especially considering how skinny and malnourished he looked.

John sat down at the kitchen table with Harry. "Harry, today we're going back to our drills. With everything out there in the world, it's important to be ready at all times, and I expect you to do your best to keep up. Don't feel bad if Dean and Sam are better at some things than you, they've been training for a lot longer."

Harry nodded. He didn't know how he felt about drills, and he sure as hell was going to do his best to be sure Dean didn't beat him at anything.

Dean still didn't trust Harry. That made it so that Harry also didn't trust Dean. Harry didn't like how Dean ordered Sam around and tried to do the same with him. It was also just too easy to get under Dean's skin. The two of them could barely spend more than ten minutes together without getting into an argument or shouting match, much to the annoyance of everyone else in the house. Having two teenaged boys under one roof was proving more difficult, and head-ache producing than John and Bobby had ever imagined. John didn't know what he was going to do when they were all in their teens, which would be happening soon enough.

All three boys assembled on the porch outside of Bobby's at precisely 8 am.

"Alright boys, I want you to run ten laps around the junkyard. I've marked the path. You have twenty minutes – every minute you're late will be another lap. Go!"

Seeing Dean and Sam took off quickly, Harry did the same. The lack of Quidditch during the Tournament meant Harry was slightly more out-of-shape than normal, however, he had always been quick. (Thanks to Dudley and his gang.) The first two laps saw his brothers both ahead of him – Dean being the fastest because his legs were the longest. But seeing the smug look on his face was enough to set Harry off. By the third lap, he had managed to be in step with his older brother. By the fifth, he was ahead. In the eighth lap, he lapped Sam. In the ninth, Dean. He finished the whole thing in fifteen minutes, and his blood was pumping enough that he felt like he could have kept going.

John was impressed. Maybe his middle son would fit in better than he expected. He was also disappointed that his years of training the other two had led to them being beaten so thoroughly. He expressed this when Dean got back, four minutes later.

"Dean – you have not been working on your running as much as you should have this summer. I know I've been gone a lot, but that's no excuse to slack off. You haven't been pushing your brother enough either – look at him, he's barely going to make the twenty-minute mark. Maybe Harry could give you some pointers. Good job Harry, I don't think I could have run the course that fast."

Harry beamed at the praise while Dean glared. Sam was just happy to not be on the receiving end of their father's disappointment, this once.

"How do we know that he didn't use magic to be that fast?" Dean asked snidely, in a tone of voice that John did not appreciate.

"Magic can't make someone fast," Harry quipped back, "I just thought this was a morning run not a morning stroll in the park." He was pretty sure magic could make him faster, but he would never admit it.

"Listen here…"

"Harry, Dean that's enough. No time for idle chit-chat. Burpees – ten of them."

Sam groaned.

"What's a burpee?" Harry asked.

"What's a burpee?" Dean mocked, copying his brother's accent.

"Dean," John said sharply. "Why don't you demonstrate for Harry what a burpee is – five in a row. Then you can join your brothers for the next ten."

"Yes, sir."

From there, the training continued. John was hoping the physical exercise would calm some of the teenaged dick-measuring contest his two eldest sons seemed to be in at all times. Certainly, towards the end, the bickering had slowed, but not stopped. A lesson in communication was going to be in order. He'd start looking for an easy hunting trip – maybe a salt n' burn, that might teach these two boys to get along. Otherwise, he'd just have to beat it into them through drills.

III

"GET THE HELL DOWN HERE, RIGHT NOW!" Dean bellowed at the top of his lungs. Dad and Uncle Bobby had gone out on a "grocery run" (aka, to a bar together) and left Dean in charge of his two younger brothers. Dean had left them alone for ten minutes tops. Ten minutes! They had been in the living room watching TV, nothing safer than that.

But no, he had returned to Bobby's living room to find that Sammy was nowhere to be found. Harry either. He had done a frantic search of the house – he had told his dad that he didn't trust this "brother" of his. That he was dangerous and skeevy, like all other witches, natural or not. But no, his dad had laughed it off and told him to learn to get along. And he treated Harry like more of an adult than Dean – already trusting him on a hunt two weeks after he had started training. Dean had only gone on his first hunt last summer. Sure, that's when he was about the same age as Harry was now, but still, he had been training since he was FIVE. Ten years, that's what it had taken for his father, who had known him for his whole life, to trust him enough to help with a hunt.

And now, after a frantic search and calling out for his brothers, he found them. A hundred feet in the air. On a freakin' broom, weaving in and out of the car stacks. If Sammy fell – Dean would never hear the end of it. Hell, if Harry fell, he would never hear the end of it. His dad was always going on about how he had to protect both his little brothers. As if one hadn't been enough.

At the moment, they both seemed to be having a grand ole time, he could hear Sam's laugh from here. Suddenly, the broom dipped sharply, plummeting towards the ground. Dean tried to run over, to be able to catch them, or at least Sam, but they were falling too quickly. Then, about five feet from hitting the ground, the broom swooped up.

Sam whopped with joy. "Again, again!" He yelled. That's when Harry caught sight of Dean's face.

"Er, maybe that's enough for today," he said, landing the broom.

Dean strode over to them and attempted to punch Harry in the face. He ducked. His reflexes were annoyingly good.

"What's your problem?" Harry asked as Dean continued to advance on him.

"WHAT'S MY PROBLEM? WHAT'S YOURS?! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

Dean continued to try and attack, and Harry kept retreating, dodging, and misdirecting. Which only fueled the older boy's temper further.

"Dean, we were just playin'," Sam said. Dean stopped trying to hit Harry and turned to Sam – in his effort to take down the person hurting his little brother, he had forgotten to check to make sure Sam was alright.

"Are you ok?" He asked anxiously, "Are you hurt? What happened?" All of this while trying to find any bruises or abrasions.

"Dean, I'm fine! We were having fun. There was a scene in the movie when they were on a roller coaster, and Harry said he had never been on a roller coaster before, I was trying to tell him how awesome they are, and then he said that he thought riding a broom was probably better, and then I asked if he had his broom with him, and he said yes, and so we decided to test it out.  You were right.  It is better than a roller coaster," Sam said, peering around Dean to address Harry.

Dean calmed down. A little. "That was very dangerous Sammy. Don't ever do that again. And you –" he said going back to Harry. "Don't you dare ever do a dive like that with my brother again. Actually, don't ever take him flying again. Do you understand."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look mate, he's my brother too. I was in complete control the whole time. When are you going to believe that I have no desire to hurt anyone in this family?"

Dean glared. "Maybe when you stop pulling stupid shit like that, mate." He put his arm around Sam's shoulders and steered him back into the house. Sam mouthed, "sorry," to Harry as they left.

Harry sighed. It wasn't that he was trying to annoy Dean at every turn but they had a way of getting under the other's skin. This was hardly the first fight they'd had in the last couple of weeks. And probably not the last of the summer, either. He decided to take his broom and do some cooling off. Flying always helped him clear his mind. His wand permit had come in a couple of days ago, so he figured it was safe. As long as he stayed below the height of the cars stacked all over the property, no muggle should see him.

While he was getting on better with most of his family, and he liked Bobby (he reminded Harry quite a bit of Mad-Eye – or rather, Crouch pretending to be Mad-Eye). He was a bit gruff, extremely paranoid, battle-worn, and clearly fond of Sam and Dean. And he seemed to be warming up to Harry.

On the home front, things weren't so good. Harry had tried to reach out to Sirius several times, but each time his godfather had blown him off. He had also tried finding more news about what was going on in England – trying to catch wind of what Voldemort was up to, but even with his magic suppressor, he had managed to blow up a computer. Thankfully, it had been at the library, but that was enough for John to ban him from using the computer Bobby owned. (The Muggles in the library had been confused, but had apologized for their faulty equipment.)

Although John didn't know the full extent of what was going on in Britain, he had treated Harry like more of a fellow soldier than any other adult ever had. Harry knew that he had fought in a war himself – Vietnam, a muggle American one. He had been helping to train Harry. Oliver Wood would have been pleased with how in shape Harry had gotten this summer. Proper nutrition plus exercise had helped him fill out a bit – even if it had only been a couple of weeks.

Thinking about proper nutrition, got Harry thinking about the food he had been eating with the Winchesters. While it had been plentiful, it hadn't been what he would call – healthy. Or homemade. The family seemed to survive on take-out alone. Harry landed on the ground once again and snuck back into the house to put his broom away and grab his wallet. The town was only a couple of miles away. Since Dean seemed royally pissed off at him, and he didn't particularly feel like dealing with it, Harry decided to walk to the nearby supermarket and buy some groceries.

It was around 7:30 in the evening, but Harry had learned that American stores stayed open far later than their British counterparts. It should take him half an hour – 45 minutes tops to get there. He'd be back far before John and Bobby got back from the bar. A part of him, a deep part that he wasn't conscious of, believed that if he showed Dean how useful he could be – in helping with hunts and taking care of Sam, maybe his brother would like him a little bit better. Maybe even accept him into the small family. It had never worked on the Dursleys, of course, but they weren't his real family, and the Winchesters were.

He doubted that either of his brothers would think anything about him disappearing for a couple of hours. In the past, he had often gone off for a little bit in their room to do homework or to attempt to use the mirror to call Sirius. For a while, he had used his mobile to call Hermione as well. But she was now with Ron at Sirius' house, much to his annoyance, which eliminated his opportunities to try and talk her into giving him information that others (Sirius and Dumbledore) didn't want him to have.

Harry arrived at the grocery store without incident. While his brothers had been introducing him to some interesting American foods (like pop-tarts and cereals that would rot one's teeth), Harry wanted to make something a little bit more traditionally British. Aunt Petunia had had him making meals since before he could even properly remember. Maybe a nice cottage pie with apple pie for dessert? (He knew the phrase that things were "as American as apple pie," but he knew, down to his core, that apple pie was British, not American.) He wasn't confident that he could find the ingredients for his favorite dessert, treacle tart.

He checked out with his items and fake smiled when what felt like the billionth American complimented him on his accent. Like it was something to be proud of.

Even though it was now dark out, the street lights kept him company as he walked down the street with his bags.  He couldn't help but think about how strange this summer had turned out to be - possibly the best he had ever had, especially since starting Hogwarts.  He was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice that something was lurking behind him as he walked - watching his every move. 

Out of nowhere, he found his glasses flying off his face and the sting of something sharp ripping through his shirt and shredding his back as he was knocked to the ground.

The training his father had been giving him kicked in once he realized he was under attack.

Heart racing, with a great heave of strength, he managed to lodge whatever it was off of him for long enough to grab his wand.

"Lumos," he muttered. Nothing happened. Bollocks, the bracelet, he thought.  Although the magic-suppressing device stopped him this time, it was getting less and less effective as the summer wore on.  He could now feel his magic pushing a bit each time he tried to use his wand without remembering to remove it first.

Before he had a chance to take it off, the creature came at him again – mouth open.

It was a werewolf. But the kind his family dealt with, not like Professor Lupin. It looked far more like a feral human than an actual wolf.

Harry successfully dodged out of the way – grateful for the practice that Dean had given him earlier that day. He stood up, took off his bracelet, and threw it at the werewolf. It was made out of silver and hit the wolf straight in the face.

It was a pretty weak attack, but it distracted the creature long enough for Harry to shout, "Stupefy!" The werewolf flew into the woods behind where it had attacked and didn't reemerge. Harry was relieved – that proved that it was a muggle werewolf, not a wizarding one. That spell would not have worked on Lupin when was fully transformed.

Harry quickly picked up the food that had scattered on the ground when he was knocked down, barely taking the time to notice that it was probably ruined, and moved to get out of there as quickly as possible. There was no way to know how long the spell would last.

He stumbled for about ten minutes down the road when a car pulled up next to him. He was still shaken up from the attack and wasn't ready to face any more trouble, so he tried to ignore it.

It was a police car. And it started flashing its lights. Harry had snuck enough views of Dudley's TV shows to know what that meant.

He stopped. The police car pulled over. Out of the front door came a young woman, her short brown hair styled in a pixie cut. She looked barely old enough to be out of school, but she was wearing a full police uniform. Harry turned to face her. He was unaware of what he looked like at the moment – he had deep scratch marks down his back where he had been attacked, his glasses were askew on his face and there was mud everywhere from when he had been pushed to the ground.

"Son, are you alright?" The woman asked, sounding very concerned.

"Uh yeah, just fine," he said, once again trying to do an American accent. He hoped it was better than the last time – especially after he had spent all this time around his American family.

"Your back is bleeding," she said bluntly, "And I've gotten reports of a rabid dog on the side of this road. We should get you to a hospital. Did ya happen to see what attacked you?"

Harry nodded.

"Was it a dog?"

"Er – I didn't get a good look? Maybe a wolf of some kind?"

Jody Mills, only in her first month on the job, was worried that the kid was going into shock.  Her training kicked in.  She took off her jacket and wrapped it around him, noticing that on top of the wounds on his back, he appeared malnourished and he flinched away from her touch.  

"Where are your parents?" She asked gently.

"Not sure? My dad went out with my Uncle, Bobby, and I decided to pop by the shops. I'm staying at my uncle's house with my dad and brothers this summer. The house is less than a mile up the road from here."

"By yourself? You can't be more than 12!"

"I'll be 15 at the end of the month," Harry shot back, irritated, that, even with a better diet, people misunderstood his age and thought him much younger. His accent also came through a bit.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Henry Winchester," he replied.

"Well Henry, it's nice to meet you. I'm Officer Mills. Since you're a minor, I think it's probably best for you to get back to your father and uncle – unless you would prefer for me to take you straight to the emergency room to get those wounds looked after? You may need a rabies shot."

Harry's eyes got wide. "No, no please, I'd really rather go back to the house. It doesn't hurt much, I swear."

"Alright. Well, hop on in the car, I can give you a lift."

Harry hesitated.  

Jody was even more concerned.  No way was she letting this kid continue on his own.

"I'm sorry, let me reframe that. I will be escorting you back to your family. Do you know the address of where you are staying?"

Harry shook his head. "No. It's Bobby Singer's Salvage Yard."

Jody was taken aback. "I didn't know Bobby Singer had any family."  And he may be the town drunk, but I can't see him allowing for child abuse.  She didn't know the man - she had only heard stories.

"He doesn't. Well, maybe he does, I don't know, but he's good friends with my father." The word father still sounded a bit foreign in Harry's mouth.

"Alright, hop on in, I know where that is, you're right it isn't far."

Not feeling like he had much of a choice, Harry did as he was told.

III

The Impala was parked in front of the house. Oh no, Harry thought. John and Bobby must be back. Before he could get out of the car, Officer Mills stopped him.

"Listen, Henry, you seem scared to go back home. Is there anything you want to tell me? I can protect you if you need it."  Maybe not the most tactful thing, but she had to do what she could to protect this child.  She had become a police officer to help people and she was determined to help this small boy.

"Protect me from what?" Harry asked, honestly confused.

"Your father? Mr. Singer? Anyone who may be hurting you. I promise you'll be safe with me."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't mirthful, but now that he had someone who was actually taking care of him, someone took notice. Almost his entire life at the Dursleys and no one had ever said a thing.

His laugh surprised Jody, but she didn't say anything. "No, my dad, he's great, and so is Uncle Bobby. Maybe er… a little rough around the edges. But they'd never hurt me."

She almost believed him, but she needed to see it for herself. "Alright then, let's get you inside."

Now Harry was nervous. He had a feeling that John wasn't going to be too impressed with his evening walk.

Both of them got out of the car and she led him with a gentle hand on his shoulder and rang the doorbell. It was Sam who answered. His eyes got wide when he saw his older brother with a police officer.

"Dad, Uncle Bobby, Harry's back!" He yelled. The men had just gotten home about five minutes ago. His dad was currently grilling Dean about the last time he had seen Harry while Bobby was making frantic phone calls to try and find him.

John came rushing down the hallway.

"Harry! Where the hell have you been?"

To Officer Mills, that sounded threatening and she stepped a little between Harry and his father.

"I found him on the side of the road – he'd been attacked by an animal, possibly a wolf."

That made John's attention snap to the woman in front of him briefly, before turning to Harry. "Were you bitten?"

"I didn't see any bite marks," the police officer answered for Harry.  John looked to Harry for confirmation. He shook his head no.

"Well, thank you, officer, for bringing him home," John said tightly. Yeah, he wasn't happy.

"My pleasure. In the future, I recommend that you drive your son to the store if he needs food. And he obviously doesn't get enough to eat. Also, he has some injuries. Please be sure they are tended to."

"Of course, Officer," John replied. He motioned Harry inside and moved to close the door. Jody put a hand out to prevent it.

"Mr. Winchester, I will be coming to check on him in the next couple of days. Have a nice night." She left. John knew a threat when he heard one. The last thing he needed was a problem with child protective services. Again.

He turned to his middle child.  He wanted to yell but he certainly couldn't do so while the police officer was possibly still in earshot. "Well, let's see to those wounds. After, we'll be having a talk about evening strolls during a full moon."

The two walked into the kitchen, where Bobby kept his medical supplies. "Did you kill it, boy?" Bobby asked as they entered.

"No – but I stunned it. Not sure how long it will last."

"You idjit, you left an unconscious werewolf on the side of the road?"

Harry shrugged. "I hardly had anything I could kill it with. I threw my suppressor bracelet in his face to surprise him and then hit him with the strongest stunner I could muster."

"And what about the gun and knife I gave you? The ones that I told you to keep on you at all times." John asked angrily.

"Oh. I forgot."

"You forgot." John was furious. "Bobby, do you think you can handle the werewolf on your own?"

"Yeah, one shouldn't be a problem, I'll go take care of it."

"Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby left and now he could focus solely on the son in front of him. Harry just stared at him, defiant, which, didn't help the older man's temper.

"I'm only going to ask you this one time. What were you thinking?" He said in a dangerous voice.

Harry's heart was beating almost as quickly as it had been when he was attacked.  He felt backed into a corner and angry at getting questioned.  "I was thinking that maybe we could eat something other than take-out for the first time in weeks," he snapped.

Surprisingly, John's face didn't contort with anger at the disrespect.  He folded his arms and kept his stern, but calm expression.  "And I suppose, this sudden desire to go to the grocery store had nothing to do with you fighting with Dean. Again."

That wasn't the question Harry had expected.  "I dunno," he muttered

"Harry. I think you do know. Trust me, he's already gotten his earful. Actually, DEAN! Get in here."  John had enough.  If this rivalry was endangering anyone in this family, it needed to stop. 

Dean entered the room a little too quickly – as if he had just been standing right out of sight.

"I have tried talking to both of you separately, but obviously that isn't working. This little feud you have going, ends, now."

Dean started to speak, "But…"

"No. No buts, not from either of you. I have had enough. Your little spat tonight could have cost your brother's life, Dean. I put you in charge – I expect you to watch after both your little brothers."  John felt his temper rising, but he did his best to keep it under control.  From the look on both boys' faces, it was working.

"I'm not little! I have been taking care of myself just fine for the last 14 years. I doubt that there is anything that Dean can do to protect me anyway, even if he wanted to." Harry shouted.

"You see what I'm dealing with Dad? He's not like Sam, he doesn't listen. Plus, I don't trust him." Dean shot back.

"Maybe if you weren't such an arsehole, I would listen."

"Maybe if you weren't such a freak, I'd trust you."

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?" Harry stood up (slightly painfully). "WHY DON'T YOU COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE?"

"Yeah, what are YOU going do to about it," Dean said, closing the gap between himself and Harry. He got into Harry's face and pushed him lightly into the kitchen counter. Harry drew his wand as he grunted from the pain of his fresh cuts hitting the counter. Dean pulled out a knife.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Both boys looked up at their father, who was red in the face. "Harry put down your wand, Dean you put that knife away."

"Yes sir," mumbled Dean. Harry just did as he was asked, a little embarrassed. He could get in big trouble for threatening a Muggle with magic – even if that Muggle was his brother, and he deserved it.

"Dad, Harry's hurt," Sam said in a quiet voice from the doorway, the shouting match had summoned him to the room.

"I'm fine," Harry muttered. John frowned. In his anger and relief when Harry had been back, somehow, he had forgotten that his middle son had been attacked.

"Turn around Harry," he said. Harry sighed but listened, a lot of his energy and adrenaline from the attack now draining after arguing with Dean.

There were huge claw prints and lots of blood running down Harry's back. John remembered the officer mentioning the emergency room, and now he could see why.

"Could you remove your shirt please?" John asked, in a calm voice. Everyone but Harry gasped a little when they saw the true extent of the damage. It looked like he was going to need stitches.

"Sam, grab the medical kit for me."

Sam rushed over to where he knew it was – a cupboard above the sink. Dean was now feeling guilty about pushing the kid into the counter, it certainly looked like that hurt.

"Dean – wet some rags and fill up a bucket with water." Dean did as he was told.

"Harry, I want you to sit in this chair – sideways, not with your back against it." As if by a miracle, Harry also listened to John. Three for three for the first time.

Dean brought over the rags and water. John gently brought one up to Harry's back. "This might sting a bit, but I have to get these wounds cleaned before I can stitch them up." He explained, before acting. Harry flinched slightly but otherwise did not react as if in pain. John would be impressed if it didn't frighten him what that meant.

"Alright good. Harry, on a scale from one to ten what would you say your pain level is now?" John didn't want to take him to the emergency room – leaving a paper trail was against his better judgment, but he also didn't want to risk Harry getting even more hurt.

"Um – a 5 maybe? 4?"

"Really?" Dean asked, "I've had papercuts less deep that were more painful than that."

Harry was unphased. "After being hit with the Cruciatus curse, nothing hurts much."

"What is…" Sam started. Both Dean and his dad shook their heads "no," to him. He stopped. John certainly made note of it. He thought he had read about it in one of the books that they had purchased, but he was hoping his memory was off.

"Dean, I'm almost done cleaning this. Prepare the lidocaine. Sam – get the needles ready."

Sam and Dean had helped stitch up their father several times – they knew the drill. Dean hesitated for one moment. "Dad, does he know any …" and this word came out with difficulty, "…magic to fix those up?"

"Harry?"

"Er – no. I don't know any healing spells. I think we learn those in sixth year?"

Dean nodded and continued with the assigned task.

John got the skin numbed and stitched Harry up. Sometime during the process, Bobby returned and gave John a quick signal that the werewolf had been taken care of. He also brought back Harry's bracelet.

"Alright, all done," John said, finishing his strokes. Harry hadn't so much as winced the entire time he had been sewing up his back. If it had been Dean, there would have been bitching, if it had been Sam, there would have been crying. Not for the first time, John wondered just what exactly his son had been through. He gave Harry some pain pills and sent him to bed. Sam followed shortly after.

This left John, Dean, and Bobby in the kitchen. Tonight had been too emotionally exhausting for John to continue to be angry. Usually, this would be the time that John would drink himself out of the emotion, but he felt like he needed to remain clear-headed, just this once.

"Did you have a difficult time with the werewolf Bobby?" John asked.

Bobby shook his head, "Nope – that thing was still out cold, just took one shot to the head with a silver bullet. Easiest kill I've ever had. I've gotta tell you John – that son of yours is pretty powerful. I think more powerful than he knows if Jim is to be believed."

John sighed.

Bobby continued, "I also think he's been through a whole hell of a lot more than he's letting on. Did you see how stoic he was while you sewed him up? I've never seen anyone stay that silent. You included. What has he said about his past?"

At that moment, Dean was being as silent as possible, in hopes of gaining more information if his dad and Uncle Bobby forgot he was there. John didn't miss this but decided that maybe if Dean knew more, he would back off from his brother a bit.

"Not a whole hell of a lot. Doesn't sound like he gets along with his Aunt or Uncle."

"He did mention sleeping in a cupboard for ten years…" Dean muttered, mostly to himself, but audibly enough for others to hear him.

"What?" John asked.

Dean shrugged. "When I first met him – I asked him why he was so short, he's practically the same height as Sammy. He told me to try sleeping in a cupboard for ten years, see what it would do to me."

John swallowed his emotion. And blew out some air. Bobby looked pissed.

"That's not all. Dean – this is need-to-know information, you're not to share it with Sam. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"His adoptive parents, Lily and James, were murdered. He's famous in the Wizarding World – that's why Jim recognized him. He survived this curse – a killing curse, that no one else has ever survived before. Should've killed him instantly. We bought these books – and the things he's gone through. And this, this madman is back and hunting him. That's why he was sent here."

"What kind of things?" Dean asked.

With a sigh, John reached into his jacket, pulled out the magazine he had stolen from the wand permit office, and opened it on the table.

"Are those pictures moving?" Bobby asked.

"Yep."

"And is that Harry?"

"It sure is. This is how I found out he was famous, but flip to page ten."

Dean followed his instructions. "Woah – is that?"

"Yeah, that's a dragon."

In the centerspread, there was another picture. It was moving, of course. It showed Harry, tiny on a broom, diving under a flame shot by a dragon in mid-flight.

"That is badass!" Dean exclaimed.

"Shh," John said, "we don't want to wake your brothers. Bobby, this was at that school of his. And this article says that this was the first of three tasks, each getting progressively more difficult. This was the easiest task."

"That's nuts." Bobby hadn't known what to make of this third Winchester brother. He saw a lot of himself in the boy. His abusive childhood helped him spot others, and Harry had the look of someone like him. Maybe not as physical – he hadn't seen any scars, other than the obvious one on his forehead when he had taken off his shirt, but this wasn't a child who knew love. It made him feel fiercely protective.

"No wonder he's so agile – it's been driving me insane these last couple of weeks. How he was so good at dodging blows and moving smoothly. I just thought he was a natural, and, well, I had to work so hard at it, it was so unfair…" Dean admitted, more to himself than to John or Bobby. "Dad, he thinks he's going back at the end of summer. We're not going to let him are we?"

John's face hardened. "Over my dead body."

Bobby nodded his approval.

"I don't think it's going to be easy. He thinks he needs to fight in this war. I think I'm going to have to go on a research trip – starting with Jim. Bobby, can you watch the boys?"

"You know I will."

"Dean, son, I know that you and Harry have had your disagreements. I think you may be ready to set some of that aside?" He didn't wait for confirmation before continuing, he knew Dean would do as he asked. "I want you to get to know Harry better, and try to find out more about his past. Use Sammy if you have to – something about his eyes just makes people pour out their guts. We need to build a case – a legal one, if need be, to keep him here."

"Understood."

John smiled and ruffled Dean's hair – a rare physical sign of affection. "Bobby, I'm going to leave you the books, see if you can learn something from them I missed. I'm going to head out first thing in the morning. Dean – get some sleep."

"Yes sir."

John watched Dean head up the stairs.

"You sure you're ready for this John? Harry's not going to be like Dean or Sam, he might be far more difficult."

"I don't have any other choice do I?"

"No, you don't. Get some sleep."

"Night Bobby, and thanks."

"You're welcome. And you owe me one – maybe more."

John nodded and went to bed.

III

Harry was the first awake, per usual. Although this morning it was a bit more from the itching on his back from the stitches than his regular summer schedule. Whatever pain medication had knocked him out the night before. It was actually kind of nice – there had been no nightmares.

Seeing as it was so early, he was kind of bored. It was too early to start on homework and leaving the house to go on a walk seemed like a bad idea after the night before. He still felt the need to keep busy though – another byproduct of living with the Dursleys, so he thought he'd go ahead and make breakfast. Looking through Bobby's fridge, he found eggs and streaky bacon. In the pantry, there was flour and sugar. So, he set to work making scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes. (And a cup of tea for himself shake off any remaining sleepiness.)

Despite the nastiness of the Dursleys, Harry did enjoy cooking. It required enough of his brain to take his mind off anything bothering him but not so much that it wasn't relaxing. Plus, since he was allowed to do simple spell work here, he was able to use some of the charms he had seen Mrs. Weasley use while cooking, which he had always wanted to try. He could even keep the food warm with a warming spell that was much better than placing food in the oven to be dried out.

John wandered into the kitchen just as Harry was tipping the last pancake out of the pan. His alarm had gone off, but also, not being a heavy sleeper, had heard the commotion in the kitchen. As he had been lying there, he silently wished that it wasn't one of Sam's attempts to bring him breakfast in bed. He was pleasantly surprised when there was a full (edible-looking) breakfast set out on the table.

His middle son greeted him. "Morning – I was just about to put on a pot of coffee, would you like some?"

"Uh – sure. What is all this?"

Harry looked confused – "Breakfast?"

"Yes, I can see that, but is there a special occasion of some sort?"

"No, I was just up early, and restless, and during the summer at home, I cook breakfast every day so I thought…"

Ah, thought John. Another sin to add to that of his Aunt and Uncle's, slave labor.

"Well, thanks," he said, sitting down at the table. "What other chores do you usually have in the summer?" he asked casually.

"Er – just the usual. Gardening, doing dishes, tidying up around the house, laundry sometimes, although Aunt Petunia is very specific on… why do you ask?" Harry was suddenly self-conscious.

"Just trying to learn more about you. You haven't said much about your aunt and uncle since being here."

Harry scowled. "No much to say. The Dursleys aren't worth talking about."

Oh good, John thought, now I have a last name. "Still, I like to know. I was an only child growing up, so I imagine that it must be quite the adjustment for you."

"I wasn't an only child."

"No?"

"I have a cousin – Dudley. Biggest prat you'll ever meet. And I mean literally the biggest – he weighs close to 30 stone."

Alright, John thought, even though he didn't know the exact conversion rate of pounds to stones, add starvation to the list – because one child was getting enough food growing up.

Harry put a cup of coffee in front of his father, who took it gratefully.

"Anything else you'd like?" Harry asked. There was no sarcasm in his voice, but it did make John feel guilty.

"No, no this is more than enough. Have a seat – you should be careful with those stitches that you aren't doing anything too strenuous."

Harry sat and served himself some breakfast, he was hungry. John dug in himself. The food was great – some of the best eggs that John had ever had. He was suddenly struck with the memory of sitting at the breakfast table with Mary. She would be happy to see the two of them together at breakfast – even happier that she had a son who could cook, as neither she nor John had ever been any good at it. The two of them ate in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes.

Bobby came stumbling into the kitchen next. "Do I smell coffee?" he asked.

"Yes, you do Mr. Singer, would you like me to get you a cup?"

Bobby waved him off, "Naw, I can get it. And none of this Mr. Singer crap, you can call me Bobby or Uncle Bobby like your brothers do."

"Alright, thanks Bobby," Harry wasn't too fond of the title, "uncle."

John finished his meal and so did Harry just as Bobby was starting. "How about you let me look at your stitches, Harry? I want to be sure they're not infected."

Harry thought that was nice of him. "Sure," he said, sitting on the chair the same way he had last night, taking his shirt off.

John removed the bandages and was extremely surprised. "I thought you didn't know any healing magic!" He exclaimed.

"I don't."

"This looks like they've been healing for weeks, not just overnight. I'm going to be able to take these stitches out today."

Harry shrugged. "I'm a fast healer."

Bobby had gotten up to take a peek as well. "This is more than fast healing," he remarked. "Do wizards heal faster than…" he hesitated, remembering not to say humans, "non-magic folk?"

"I don't really know," Harry said. "Whenever I got into scraps as a child, I tended to recover quickly. Wizarding healing isn't very pleasant, this one time when I had all the bones removed from my arm…"

"What?" John asked.

Harry didn't seem overly concerned. "It was an accident," he said in a reassuring voice that neither of the two adults in the room found to be reassuring in the least, "I broke my arm playing Quidditch, and my professor, who was a total duffer, removed the bones in my arm instead of fixing them."

John and Bobby looked at him with horror.

"It was alright though! Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, was able to fix it. I just had to regrow my bones overnight, which was a bit painful, but not as bad as how the potion tasted – eek."

"So, to summarize, to be sure I understand," John said slowly, "a teacher at your school removed your bones and you had to re-grow them overnight."

"It was an accident, really," Harry said realizing that this might sound bad to his father, "And at least Lockhart didn't try to kill me! I mean, he did try to wipe my memory, but the spell backfired…"

John rubbed his temples trying to think of how to ask the next question, but Bobby beat him to it.

"How many of your teachers have tried to kill you?"

"Just the two," Harry said quickly, "but Quirrell was possessed and Moody wasn't really Moody. And I suppose Professor Lupin tried too, but that's just because he forgot to take his potion before the full moon, otherwise, he'd never…"

Harry stopped, realizing that he may have just overshared a bit.

"You had a teacher that was possessed by a demon?" Bobby asked, in complete disbelief. Who ran this school?

"Oh no, not a demon. Wizards can't be possessed by demons, everyone knows that. No, he had Voldemort on the back of his head…"

Again, he stopped, due to the look on both men's faces.

"I'll just…er, I'll just clean up breakfast then?" He tried, getting up. John gently put a hand on his shoulder to make him sit back down.

"Alright. Again, to summarize," John started in a dangerous voice. "You've had two teachers try and kill you, one with the man possessed by the guy who murdered your adopted parents, a teacher that removed your bones and tried to memory wipe you, and a werewolf teacher who was near enough to you on a full moon to try and kill you? Not to mention the dragon I saw you fighting in that magazine."

"Saw that, did you?" John glared. "When you put it like that, it sounds really bad but…"

"I thought Jim said that you went to one of the best wizarding schools in the world." John interrupted.

Harry brightened. "Oh, I do! Hogwarts is the best in the whole world."

The expressions on both men's faces clearly said they disagreed.

"Are all wizards nuts, or is it just you?" Bobby asked bluntly.

Harry blinked, unsure of how to answer. "I'm…not crazy?"

Bobby snorted. John was torn between wanting to know every single bad thing that had happened to Harry at school and not being able to stand the fact that he hadn't been there to help all along. He changed the subject.

"I'm going to go ahead and remove these stitches, but I still want you to be careful," he said. "I'm going out of town for a week or so, maybe longer, so I'm going to trust you with this. No more fights with werewolves, even though it sounds like you have some experience in that area."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked with curiosity, a little disappointed that his father would be leaving so soon.

"A hunting trip with Pastor Jim, that's all. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Oh."

John kept working on the stitches. "I expect that you'll help Dean keep Sammy in line and that you'll listen to Bobby. No more going out alone at night, either, if you go out, be sure that Bobby or your brothers are with you. Oh, and no more fighting with Dean."

"I won't fight with him if he doesn't fight with me," Harry grumbled.

"I also expect that neither of you will start anything, and I've told him as much. Ok… all finished," he said after removing all the thread, still amazed at how quickly it had healed, "I'm going to put anti-bacterial cream on this, but you should be set."

John put the cream on and handed Harry his shirt.

"I've got to get going, Jim's expecting me. I don't think Sam or Dean are awake yet, but since you made breakfast, be sure to let them know that I said they're on dish duty."

Harry nodded, surprised, but pleasantly so.

With that John left – determined, more so than ever, to find a way to make sure Harry would never go back to England.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Two: Chapter Six – Fate, Tempted

July, 1995

"So first, you clean the barrel," Dean said with a rifle and his younger brothers behind him. "Remember, you don't want to damage the first or last inch. If they are damaged at all, you won't be able to shoot straight." He started demonstrating. Sam groaned.

"I know all of this Dean – I'm bored."

"Do you, what's the next step then Sam?" Dean asked, annoyed to have his lesson interrupted. Sam never would have interrupted their father. Or, maybe he would try, but Dean wouldn't have allowed it.

"You need to clean the bore – in the direction that the bullet travels." He intoned.

"Well, yeah, but Harry doesn't know…"

"Harry is probably best off not touching a gun," Harry said in the third-person. "Magic?" Then he remembered what his father asked of him and sighed internally. "But this doesn't seem electronic, so there shouldn't be too much interference. Since you know how to do it so well, why don't you teach me, Sam?" He suggested, sliding a glance at Dean, who looked surprised but approved.

Sam beamed. He had never gotten to be the one doing the instructions. And he really did know it all, their father and Dean had drilled it into him. He brushed Dean aside and took over instruction. For his part, Harry did his best to look interested and ask questions, which pleased the eldest Winchester. Not having to try and keep Sammy interested in whatever lesson their father had decided needed to be taught that day took a burden off of Dean. Maybe having a brother in between wouldn't be the worse.

Harry made lunch for the three of them. (Bobby was tinkering in his shop – close enough to hear if someone yelled, but hands-off enough to leave the boys to their day.)

"This is really good," Sam said while digging into the cottage pie that Harry had made. The ingredients from the night before had been unsalvageable, but earlier in the day Bobby had made a run to the store, he had said for beer but came back with everything Harry had tried to purchase the night before.

Harry blushed a little at the compliment. He was used to making the food and only getting complaints (and none of the food).

"Ah, good, I'm glad you like it Sam."

"It's way better than Dean's cooking – all he can manage is a can of Spaghetti-Ohs most of the time."

Dean stiffened a little, although he could hardly argue.

"That's not very fair Sam, my aunt started me cooking at a very early age – so I've been at it for ages. I'm sure with some practice, Dean could be just as good. And this is nothing compared to the food at school – some of the best meals I've ever had was at the start-of-the-term feast."

"You have feasts?" Sam asked, wide-eyed.

"Yeah – not all the time mind you, just at the beginning of the term and on holidays."

"You know Sam, we have some free time this afternoon, I bet if you asked real nice, Harry would tell you all about what it's like to go to magic school in a castle," Dean said slyly.

Sam looked hopeful. "Would you?" He asked.

"Sure, what would you like to know?"

"Everything! What's it like, going to boarding school? Do you miss your family while you're away?"

Dean winced internally, not the easiest question to start with. He pretended to be disinterested by flipping through a magazine – prepared to take copious mental notes.

"Er, no, I don't miss them. But that's because my true family is at Hogwarts with me! My best mate, Ron is brilliant. He has five older brothers and a little sister. His oldest brother, Bill is a curse breaker in Egypt. He goes around old tombs reversing ancient curses for work."

Sam's eyes were big. "That sounds an awful lot like what a hunter does. He gets paid to do it?"

"Yeah, of course. He works for the wizarding bank, Gringotts, that's run by goblins."

Stories of the wizarding world continued for a better part of the afternoon, thoroughly entertaining Sam and getting his mind off of their absent father. (When normally he would have bothered Dean about any check-ins five or six times already.) It also provided Dean with a lot of intel. Maybe not all of it was important, but there could be something useful. He noticed that most of the stories Harry told were devoid of anything too frightening and wondered if he was straying from some of the more dangerous things that he had been through. (Although he could hardly imagine what it might be like to purposefully attend a party full of ghosts.) He was thinking of going to get the magazine his father had shown him the night before when the doorbell rang. With his Uncle Bobby still in the back, Dean went to open the door. Slowly, just in case it was something dangerous.

It was a police officer. Uh oh, Dean thought. Has someone called child services again? he wondered. With all the moving and living in motel rooms, not to mention bruises from hunting, it was unsurprising that child services had been called a couple of times on his father. Ms. Collins was their social worker and she did checkups every couple of years. But this was a different woman altogether.

"Can I help you, Officer?" Dean asked respectfully, with a charming smile he reserved for pretty girls. This officer was quite young – couldn't be more than a couple of years older than himself.

"Yes, is John Winchester home?"

"I'm afraid not, he's on a business trip."

The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Then who is looking after you?"

"Uncle Bobby, of course. Dad travels a lot for business, so during the summer he watches us."

"Ah, I see. May I speak with your brother please?"

That confused Dean, but he didn't see a problem with it. "Hey Sam, come on out here, a pretty police officer is asking for you." He winked at her. She was not impressed.

Sam came bounding into the room. "Is it Ms. Collins again? We haven't heard from her in a bit. Oh, no it's not." He said, upon seeing the woman.

"How can I help you, ma'am?"

"Your family sure does have a lot of boys. I meant your other brother, Henry. Henry is your brother, right?"

Dean hesitated for a millisecond before smiling again and saying, "Of course he is. Harry!" He called. He was a little worried – they hadn't briefed the newest Winchester on how to deal with social workers or police officers doing child welfare checks yet.

Harry recognized the woman immediately. "Officer Mills, it's nice to see you again." He said formally and with his regular accent.

She frowned a little. "Weren't you American yesterday?"

He laughed nervously. "I'm American every day actually, I just go to boarding school in the UK for most of the year. I got sick of hearing about how 'cute' my accident is so I was trying to sound more American," he made up on the spot.

Jody looked at him like he was strange, but decided to let that drop. "I wanted to check and make sure you were doing alright after yesterday's attack. Did you get medical help?"

"I did. What was it, Dean, 12 stitches?"

Dean was impressed by Harry's lie of omission, but also slightly concerned at how easily he lied to people in places of authority. "I think you're misremembering; it was more like 25."

"Ouch," Officer Mills said.

"Yeah, it was my first time getting stitches. I'm feeling loads better today though."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Could you please point me in the direction of Mr. Singer? I would like to ask him a couple of questions."

There was an inaudible sigh of relief between the three brothers.

"Of course, Officer, he's just out in the garage tinkering with a car. I'm sure he'd be happy to speak with you," Dean said with a smile.

"Very good. If anything happens, or you need help, please don't hesitate to reach out. Here is my card, call if you need me."

She went off to go find Bobby Singer, just hoping he wouldn't be as drunk and belligerent as usual.

III

"Are you sure about this?" John asked Pastor Jim for about the fiftieth time.

"Yes, John. I assure you that your aversion to this road is because you are a No-Maj and they have charmed you to want to go the other way."

"Oh, alright. But are you sure? I think I left my wallet in the motel room."

Jim sighed and ignored his friend. It had taken some finagling, a large amount of lying, and calling in every favor from every connection he had to the wizarding world, but Jim had managed to get the two of them a tour of Ilvermorny.

John had been hoping that there was a legal way for him to get custody of Harry. The two of them had spent the last week doing research and asking questions, but nothing had come to fruition. Officially, because of the Convention, John had no legal rights to his son. Even if he managed to get a hold of a will from Lily and James themselves that said they transferred custody to him, he wouldn't be allowed access to his child. The law was iron clad when it came to hunters having magical children.

That, by no means, meant that he was giving up. He was perfectly comfortable living outside the law. And when John Winchester set out on a mission, he never gave up.

Which led to this little adventure. James and Lily, being clever, had made sure all the No-Maj paperwork for Harry was completely legal and appropriate, which meant that he was an American citizen with every right to get his education from American institutions. Ilvermorny was the most well-known of these, but it was not unusual for American wizarding parents to send their children to a variety of different schools, including more No-Maj like day schools.

Unfortunately, because the population of wizards was small and quite concentrated in certain areas, there would be no way to transfer Harry from magical school to magical school in the same way that he did with Sam and Dean. An option would be to send him to regular school with his brothers, with magic tutoring in the evenings and weekends. John didn't think Harry would like that option very much (not that his opinion would matter in the end), but he thought he'd get less resistance if he could send Harry to a school more like what he was used to. And Jim had assured him that Ilvermorny was as close to Hogwarts in the United States as one could get. He also didn't plan to tell his son about the fact that, legally speaking, there was nothing John could do to stop him from returning to England.

It was not uncommon for No-Maj families to require a little convincing to send their children off to boarding school, so during the summer, the school was open to tours and interviews with the faculty and staff. It was unusual to have a Non-Practitioner bringing a No-Maj to the school.

They parked the Impala outside of soaring gates. (Jim had had to drive, to John's displeasure, to get past the wards.) There was a man, quite average looking, middle-aged, waiting for them in long blue robes trimmed in dark red piping. Jim had to physically pull John up to the gate to stop his friend from turning around.

The man smiled knowingly and placed an enchantment on John that would allow him to see past the wards. He was stunned.

"Good afternoon," the man greeted. "My name is Dr. Webster Calderon-Boot III. I am the Headmaster here at Ilvermorny. You must be John Winchester and Jim Murphy; it is a pleasure to meet you both." He offered his hand in greeting, which John took.

John had also reluctantly agreed to use his real name. With all of Harry's official paperwork being under Winchester, there was no other way to get this meeting.

"Please, follow me," the man said.

"Uh, is it normal for… wizards to have doctorates?" John asked.

Webster laughed. "No, not in the least. I have earned my Ph.D. in Leadership and Policy Studies from a No-Maj University, Vanderbilt, in their Peabody College of Education. I learned a great deal there, and I find that it helps put our No-Maj parents at ease knowing that I have trained to be both a magical and non-magical educator. I'm going to take you on a quick tour of the school, and then we'll go up to my office to talk about your son Henry specifically and if this might be a good fit for him. And you. Does that sound agreeable?"

John was a bit dazed by the surroundings and the man in front of him, but he quickly got his act together, using the focus he had learned as a hunter. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea."

"Very good. Well here, we're in the entrance hall. This is where our sorting ceremony takes place…"

The school was very nice. Fancy. John couldn't even imagine what the cost of tuition must be, but he could always cross that bridge when he got to it. It still blew his mind a little that this whole world existed and he had had no idea. As someone particularly attuned to the supernatural, this was an odd feeling.

It was a little over an hour when they made their way to the Headmaster's office. It was a nice sized room with large windows that had sweeping views of the mountains around them. There were bookshelves on the other walls – that went all the way up to the ceiling and were all full. John wasn't sure that, outside of a library, and even then, that he had ever seen this many books in one place.

Dr. Calderon-Boot chuckled when he followed John's gaze. "Yes, I have a rather large personal collection. I don't know that I've ever found a book that I didn't want to read. Why don't you gentlemen have a seat? Is there anything I can get you? Coffee or water perhaps?"

"Coffee would be nice," said Jim.

"Make that two," John agreed, although he was a little hesitant to drink anything given to him by wizards.

"Excellent. Herbert?" The headmaster called. John jumped and fought the urge to reach for his gun when a small, large-eared, grey goblin-looking creature came into the room. He glared at John.

"Three coffees please – and maybe some of those excellent snickerdoodle cookies that I smelled being freshly baked earlier."

Herbert, so he was called, rolled his eyes, and went off.

"What was that?" John asked, stressed by the situation.

"Not a that – him. He is a Pukwudgie – a magical creature that is native to the United States. They are a grumpy group, but very helpful. Nothing to be concerned about – if you remember earlier, one of our houses is named in their honor."

John said nothing but was still fighting the urge to pull out a weapon.

"Mr. Winchester, I know that you have a gun on your person. I want you to know that we have very specific wards set up here at Ilvermorny that assure that no person – or creature, can be harmed by such a device. Safety is of the utmost importance to us."

John nodded somewhat sheepishly. He could also really sense the power behind this man with those words. It also made him a little uneasy that wizards could make guns unusable. He'd have to ask Jim about that later.

The Pukwudgie returned to the room with the coffee and snacks before leaving again, grumbling the whole time.

"Now, why don't we start talking about your son, Henry? Tell me about him – I understand from Mr. Murphy here that he would be a transfer, which is somewhat unusual at wizarding schools."

"Henry…Henry has recently started living with me, he previously lived in England. I am not…pleased with some of the events that have happened to him at his school and feel like I need to find a safer placement for him for the rest of his education. I would prefer to keep him in the States, where I can regularly check up on him. My job requires a lot of travel, so it would be difficult to enroll him in a day school."

"I understand. Which school does he currently attend?"

"Um – Jim, do you remember? Something funny-sounding."

"Hogwarts." Jim supplied.

That surprised the headmaster. "You want to pull your son out of Hogwarts? That's almost unheard of!"

John thought for a second. "Dr. Calderon-Boot, are you aware of what has been happening in the wizarding world of the UK in the last couple of years?"

"Ah, yes, you are referring to the events of the Triwizard Tournament, aren't you?  We were all greatly saddened to hear that a Hogwarts student died in the last task."

"I am. Henry was very…disturbed by the events of the year. I'm not sure he's truly processed what happened yet. I think that getting away from that environment will help him move past the death of his classmate."

"I understand, of course. Well, let's take a look at his file then."

"He has a file?" John asked, a little concerned.

"Of course, every American wizard does once they apply for a wand permit. I have access to the database. We're open to wizards of all power levels here at Ilvermorny, we've even had a few Squibs throughout the years. We have a zero-tolerance policy on bullying, especially on the basis of blood-status or magical power."

He reached into what looked to be a regular wooden file cabinet – like the ones you might find in any modern American office. There were hundreds of folders and the Headmaster used his wand to summon the correct one. It was pretty thin.

"Here it is. Ah, an Ollivander wand – 11 inches, holly, phoenix feather. Strong wand – he must be a strong wizard. Oh wow."

"Wow what?" John asked, slightly concerned about what personal information the wizarding government had on his son.

"Just a very strong magical core."

"What does that mean?" John asked. He worried about the amount of power his son seemingly had. It meant that he could probably protect himself, but power also attracted trouble and that could make him a target.

"It's not unheard of course, but it is probably once every 50 years or so that we have a student with that much raw magical power. Does he struggle with mundane, theory-based magic, and excel in the practical?"

John was at a complete loss. "Uh – I don't know. We don't talk about…magic in my household."

The headmaster looked a little shocked. "But don't you read the reports sent out by Henry's professors at Hogwarts? It should contain that sort of information."

"Henry has been living in England with his mother up until now," John fibbed as quickly as he could. "I'm sure she's been getting the reports."

Dr. Calderon-Boot clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Here at Ilvermorny, we expect all parents to be intimately familiar with the curriculum and with their child's academic progress. In fact, I would very much like to meet with Henry's mother as well. It takes a village to educate a child and we require all parents, magical or not, to be involved. Several of our No-Maj parents have even created online communities to speak with each other and provide a support network. Now where did I put that…" The man dove under his desk, wand out, looking for something.

John turned to Jim, who had just been listening in silence, sipping his coffee. Things had certainly changed since the days when he would have been going to Ilvermorny. "What should I do?" John mouthed to Jim. Jim shrugged, very unhelpfully.

The headmaster reemerged. In his hands, he had a thick packet, which he handed over to John.

"This packet contains the information that we normally give No-Maj parents. It included information about our curriculum as well as a primer on the wizarding world in general. There is also a section on finances – I think you will find that we have some very generous scholarships for first-generation wizards and witches. And with the power level your son has, I don't believe that he will have a difficult time obtaining one. Now, I'm afraid I have another appointment this afternoon, so I will show you out unless you have any other questions?"

John had about a million more questions, but he understood a dismissal when he heard one. He shook his head no.

"Very good, I will see you out then."

They were escorted from the building. "Mr. Winchester, if you wish to ask more questions, or if young Henry himself would like to know more, feel free to set up another appointment. We can also speak via floo if that is more convenient for you. It was a pleasure meeting you both."

He went back into the building. John and Jim got back into the car. "Alright then," John said. "I think a trip to see Missouri should be next. I also happen to know of a case in between that we might be able to help with…"

The two men drove off.

From his office, Dr. Calderon-Boot watched as they left. He didn't approve of No-Maj parents that were unaccepting of their children's magic. He thought this might be a difficult case, even since the wards had informed him of the multiple weapons Mr. Winchester had on him.

He sighed, sat down at his desk, pulled out his quill and parchment, and started writing.

Dear Albus,

I hope this missive finds you well, especially during these troubling times. Today I had the most intriguing visit from a parent of one of your students and would like to inquire with you to get some additional information. Mr. Henry Winchester is the pupil in question – a soon to be OWL student I believe….

III

One week after their father had left, and Dean was finally comfortable enough with Harry to leave him alone in the house with Sam. This was after wearing both of them out with hunter training, a regiment prescribed by John. With strict instructions for them not to leave under any circumstances (double eye rolls – it was wonderful to have two younger brothers with attitudes) Dean went outside to tinker on some cars with Uncle Bobby. He valued the one-on-one time that he got with his honorary uncle and this summer he had gotten a lot less of it because he felt like he had to watch both his brothers with an eagle eye.

Back in the house, Harry decided he should probably try and get some homework done. Because he had been so concerned with the Triwizard Tournament, he was having to do quite a bit of reviewing of 4th-year material. It was annoying, and it meant that homework was taking even longer than normal. At least here he could do it out in the open and didn't have to cram it in late at night after the Dursley's had gone to sleep.

Today was History of Magic. He already finished Potions and Transfiguration. History of Magic homework was always boring, but he thought if he buckled down, he could finish his essays in just a couple of hours.

Well, he would have been able to, if he didn't have his recently-acquired younger brother pestering him about every five minutes.

He liked Sam, he really did, might even go far enough to say that he loved his younger boy, but the questions never ended.

"What are you working on today?" Said younger brother asked, bounding into the bedroom approximately ten minutes after Harry had started working.

"History of Magic – really boring stuff," he responded, not taking his eyes off of his textbook.

"Dude, you go to a magical school where you are learning magic – I don't see how any of it could ever be boring."

Harry sighed. "You sound like my friend Hermione."

"You always say that!" Sam shot back.

"Well, I mean it." This gave Harry an idea. He knew that Hermione was now at Sirius' house with the rest of the Weasleys (much to his annoyance). She and Ron were telling him nothing, and neither was Sirius. Every day he would have Sam use the computer to look at news in the UK, to try and see if he could figure out what Voldemort was up to. But, as annoyed at her as he was, he thought she might get a kick out of talking to Sam.

"Hey Sam – would you like to meet Hermione?" He asked.

Sam was hesitant. "Well, I would but Dean said we shouldn't leave…"

Harry laughed. "We don't have to leave. Wait a second – and pull the curtains closed." He went over to his backpack and pulled out the carefully wrapped mirror.

"What's that?" Sam asked. "And why am I closing the curtains?"

"It's a way to talk to my friends back home. They don't know where I am this summer, it's top secret. It's the evening in the UK and I don't want Hermione to question why it is light out when we call."

"Cool! I didn't know you were talking with your friends."

Harry snorted. "I'm not really – just sometimes and, honestly, I'm pretty annoyed at the lot of them. But that doesn't matter. I'm going to tell her you're my new American neighbor who just found out about magic. Sirius Black," he said looking into the mirror.

Sirius' face appeared immediately. Sam looked impressed. "Hey, Harry – I don't have a lot of time; I'm just heading into an Or – into a meeting. Can I call you back later bud?" He saw Sam in the frame. "Is that Dean in there with you? I haven't seen him since he was a baby!"

"No, this is Sam, Sam this is my godfather, Sirius. I was wondering if you could give the mirror to Hermione? We'd like to ask her for some homework questions."

"Oh, sure." Whenever Harry had called recently, he had always requested to talk with one of his friends. Sirius knew that he was angry, but it still put him off a bit. Harry seemed pretty happy with his family, and he didn't understand why he couldn't see that it was for the best. "Hermione!" he yelled. "Look kiddo, I'd like to talk to you some more sometime…"

"Sirius? Is that Harry on the mirror again?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yeah," he replied (Harry couldn't see her yet) "he has some homework questions for you. I'm going into the meeting. Maybe take that upstairs with you?"

"Of course," she replied. Her face swam into view. "Harry! We miss you. Also, I'm so impressed that you are doing your homework you really must have listened to me last year about revising. Who's that with you? That's not Dudley is it?"

Harry laughed. "You would know if was Dudley, Hermione, I promise. No, this is my br – my new friend Sam. His family just moved in down the block from the US and he's going to be starting Ilvermorny in the Fall. He's Muggleborn though, so he has so many questions, I thought you'd be able to help."

Hermione beamed. "How nice of you Harry! Hi Sam, it's nice to meet you, I'm Hermione Granger. How are you liking the UK so far?"

Sam wasn't quite sure what to say. "Uh – it's great?"

"Well, I'm glad to hear it." Hermione was walking while she talked – on what Harry presumed was the inside of Sirius' house that he had never gotten to see.

"Who're you talking to Hermione?" Came Ron's voice from the other side of the mirror.

"Harry of course! And his new friend Sam."

Ron came into view. "Hi Harry, Hi Sam! Harry, you'll never believe what we've been up to here… hey, ouch!"

Hermione had hit him upside the head. "You know we're not supposed to talk about it while on the mirror, Ronald. And especially not in front of someone we don't know."

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

"Talk about what?" Harry asked, grumpily.

"Oh, don't be that way Harry, you know Dumbledore swore us to secrecy. As soon as you get here…"

"Well if Dumbledore told you to, I suppose you have to. IT'S NOT LIKE ANY OF THIS HAS ANY EFFECT ON ME!" Harry took a deep breath. "Look, we'll talk about when Dumbledore lets me out of here. I called so you can talk to Sam."

Sam looked a little shocked about his brother's outburst, but wisely didn't say anything. (Watching Dean all these years had taught him a lot on how to manage older-brother outbursts.)

"Who is Sam, Harry?" Ron asked.

"He's my new neighbor. Muggleborn, American." Harry didn't much feel like talking to his friends anymore. This had been a bad idea.

"Hey," Sam said over the awkward moment.

"Are you really American?" Ron asked.

"Uh – yeah, I am. I was born in Kansas."

"Oh, I don't know where that is."

"Ron, it's in the middle of the country. For Merlin's sake, you would think they would teach some basic geography at Hogwarts. Harry mentioned you had questions, what would you like to know?"

"Oh, everything!" Sam exclaimed.

"You're talking to the right person then mate," Ron snorted and left the view of the mirror, to leave it up to Hermione.

"Harry is always complaining about homework and I tried to tell him that nothing is cooler than doing magical homework for a magical school. He said that the library at Hogwarts is the biggest one he's ever seen, and he once took a school field trip to Oxford. What kind of books are in the library? Are there any normal ones? Or are they all magical? Do wizards have novels?"

Hermione grinned. "Oh, you'd love the Hogwarts library, it has everything, including…"

Harry stopped listening at that point, switching to brooding and getting angrier and angrier with his friends and Dumbledore and Sirius while the conversation went on for quite some time.

A little while later, Sam pulled him out of his thoughts. "Hey Harry, your friends are going to bed, they want to say goodnight." He thrust the mirror into Harry's hands.

He took it, wrapped it carefully, and put it away.

An hour or so later Dean came back into the house, covered in grease, but looking extremely pleased with himself. He walked into the living room to find his brothers. Sam was watching TV – but not paying attention to it, stealing glances at Harry. Harry looked as though someone had just murdered his dog. He was facing the TV, but not watching it. It was quite reminiscent of when Sam after he had gotten in a fight with their father.

"What's up with him?" Dean asked Sam, flopping down on an armchair, opening up a soda can.

Sam shook his head no. He wasn't touching this one with a ten-foot pole.

"What's up with you?" Dean asked again, this time directing the question at Harry.

"Nothing."

"Riiighttt. That's why you look like you just watched Bambi's mom get killed for the first time."

That got Harry's attention. "You've watched someone's mum get killed?" He knew that hunting was dark, but that seemed a little far to him.

Dean gave him a strange look. "Uh, no dude. Disney movie? Baby deer, lots of forest friends?"

"I've never seen it," Harry responded, shrugging.

"Dude, you've never seen Bambi? How is that even possible?"

"Wizard? We don't have movies."

"Yeah, but your family was normal right? So, in the first 11 years of your life, you never watched any Disney movies?"

Harry glared. "I would hardly classify the Dursley's as 'normal.' They didn't allow me to watch movies."

"Oh, they into that new age crap, no screen time for kids?"

"No," Harry responded simply.

Dean took a second to take that in. When he had first met Harry, he had been jealous that his younger brother had gotten to grow up outside of this life. He loved his father and thought the man was a superhero, but that didn't mean that he didn't occasionally wish for something different. Without the burden of responsibility of having to fight monsters and more-or-less raise a younger brother on his own. But the more time they spent together, he realized how lucky his upbringing had been. Thankfully, cheering up younger brothers happened to be in Dean's wheelhouse.

"Alright, we're not just going to sit around here. It's the summer, and this is sad. I'm gonna get Uncle Bobby to let me borrow a car – I think, Sammy, a movie night is in order. Can't have any brother of ours missing out on the classics."

"But Dad says you're not allowed to drive without him."

"Psh, what Dad doesn't know can't hurt 'im."

Bobby wasn't so irresponsible that he was going to allow Dean to drive a car by himself. They had already had one welfare check this summer, and he was keen to keep it that way. He did agree to drive them himself.

Of course, Harry had never been to a Blockbuster video before. He wasn't sure if they existed in the UK, but as his brothers argued over what movies to rent (Dean wanted Top Gun or Maverick, Sam was arguing for The Mighty Ducks or Mrs. Doubtfire) he enjoyed looking around. He also enjoyed the playful bickering between his brothers. Ultimately, it was decided that they would rent all four and have a movie marathon.

"Alright Sammy, we also need to educate Harry on proper dietary consumption during movie watching. I want you to pick out your favorite two types of candy, and I will get the popcorn, meet you upfront."

"Come on, Harry, you can tell me which one's you'd like to try the most!" Sam said, grabbing Harry by the hand and dragging him over to the candy section. There were so many options.

"How am I supposed to choose?" He asked, mystified.

"Well Dean loves Reece's Peanut Butter Cups, but I prefer Snickers bars. But Three Musketeers are also good – oooh, and Red Vines!"

"Alright, I think there is only one option here," Harry said very seriously.

"Oh yeah, what?"

"One of each. How can I give an honest opinion if I haven't tried them all?"

Sam grinned and the two of them started grabbing as much candy as they could carry. When they got up to the register, Dean looked at them with disbelief.

"I said two types of candy. Not twenty! How do you think we can afford that much?"

"Well, Harry said," Sam started.

"Harry said, this is all on him," Harry grinned and pulled out his credit card. Dean grabbed it from him.

"Dude, this has your name on it and everything – not even stolen!"

"I know. Sirius says my parents set up a bank account for me here before I was adopted. Said it was for 'emergencies,' and Sammy and I here agreed that me not having tried all of these different types of candy was an emergency, don't you agree?"

It was the first time that Harry had called him Sammy and that made the grin on his younger brother's face even wider. It made Dean pretty happy too.

"Yeah, I think so. Oh, there's an ice cream store on the way back to Uncle Bobby's – I think our lack of ice cream is also an emergency, don't you?"

"Absolutely," Harry grinned.

It had taken all three of them chanting "ice cream" many times at Bobby for him to agree to make another stop on the way back home ("Idjits," he had called them fondly.)

Once back at the house, Sam declared that to have a proper movie marathon, they were going to need to build a fort.

Bobby had shaken his head at this pronouncement. "I'm gonna leave you boys up to that. Don't destroy my living room." He grumped at them, but they could all tell he didn't mean anything by it. While Sam and Dean were debating the best way to go about building one, Harry pulled out his wand.

"Just watch," he said. Using magic, he suspended the gathered sheets and blankets in mid-air to form a tent with a roof and back wall. He then transfigured the couch cushions into large pillows that covered the whole ground. With an additional thought of whimsy, he added some sparkly lights to the ceiling. (Fort building was a long and proud Gryffindor tradition – on weekends they would regularly gather to turn the common room into one giant fort, so Harry knew what he was doing.)

"Woah," said Sam.

"Yeah, I've never seen anything like it," Dean commented. "Magic is awesome!"

Harry grinned. The three of them gathered in the fort, pulling blankets and pillows all around themselves as they gorged on popcorn and candy while watching movies. They stayed up far too late, and all ended up falling asleep in the fort before making it to their beds. Harry thought it might have been the best night of his whole life. Dean and Sam felt the same way.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Two: Chapter Seven – Too Good to Be True

August 2nd , 1995

John's gun was level at him. Harry knew that with his wand, he might be able to disarm the man, but he didn't want to risk hurting him, despite the terrible words coming out of his mouth. Also, Dean and Sammy were close by and the thought of injuring either of his brothers was too dreadful to take the chance.

"I meant it, Harry. You're not welcome here. You are a freak and a danger to me and my sons. You just aren't normal." He motioned with his gun for Harry to move, directing him towards the staircase. Harry wondered where he had found the word that would hurt him the most.

"Dad, how can you say that to him?" Dean demanded as they entered where the two brothers had been listening just outside the door.

"Dean, stay out of this," he ordered without taking his eyes off of Harry. "Take Sam and go to the car. I mean it – that's an order."

Dean hesitated. "You can't possibly…"

"Dean, now." He replied hardly.

"Yes sir."

Sam found his voice. "This is wrong Dean – Dad was going to convince him to stay! He's our brother."

"Dean, do as I say. You too, Sam."

Dean dragged a struggling Sam out of the room.

They were in the front entrance hall, where Bobby appeared, slightly out of breath.

"What's goin' on? I heard shouting."

"Uncle Bobby, Dad's gone crazy!" Sam exclaimed. "He's telling Harry he has to go back to England – you have to stop him."

"Dean?" Bobby asked, looking for confirmation.

"I don't know what came over him, Uncle Bobby. Maybe it has something to do with those dementy thingings from earlier… But he has a gun on him – he told Sam and me to go to the car. I don't want to be the reason he hurts Harry."

"He's drawn his gun on a 15-year-old boy? That asshole. You're right Dean, take Sam and go, I'll see if I can reason with him. Did something happen? Did you smell sulfur or see black smoke?

Dean shook his head. "No sir. And he stepped right over a salt line, I don't see how he could be possessed."

Bobby grabbed his gun from the wall. "Alright then, you boys go on outside."

Dean nodded and took Sam with him.

Upstairs, Harry was frantically packing his things, trying his best not to let hot tears of humiliation fall down his face. He supposed he deserved this, for allowing himself to hope… no, it wasn't worth it.

John was still speaking. "You belong to your own kind, although, if it were up to me, we'd hunt the lot of you just like we hunt all the other unnatural, dangerous creatures of this world. You're never to come back, you hear me. If I hear that you've come back into this country or catch sight of you near my boys, I will kill you. No fancy magic powers will be able to save you."

"JOHN WINCHESTER," Bobby shouted. "What in the name of Sam Hill are you saying to that boy? He is your son."

John didn't move his eyes, or gun, off of Harry.

"He might have been once. But he isn't anymore. My second son is dead. He died when he was just hours old. It's better that way."

"What in hell…"

"Don't worry about it, Bobby, I'm going," Harry said harshly, his voice breaking slightly. He grabbed the items in Bobby's hands and started packing some of them as well.

"Harry, something's wrong, this isn't John, don't go."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Clearly it is. I'm sorry Bobby, for intruding this summer, I know time with the boys means a lot to you."

"Harry, you didn't…"

Harry shook his head and interrupted, "Thanks for everything Bobby, take care, and watch out for my brothers for me? You're a better father than him. Portus."

He vanished from the room with a pop. He never noticed the faint blue glow behind his father's eyes.

Several Weeks Earlier

The brothers awoke to the sound of a camera clicking. They slowly blinked their eyes. The three of them had fallen asleep in the very early hours of the morning, from a sugar crash. But the way they fell asleep was why there had to be photographic evidence. Dean was in the middle, with his younger brothers on either side of him. Harry's head was using his chest as a pillow while Sam's head was on his stomach.

"That is just too damn cute," Bobby said, shaking out a polaroid. "Look at the three of you, all snuggled together."

Dean was the first to realize what was going on, as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "What the hell?" He asked. "Sam, Harry, get off me!" He said in the deepest, manliest voice he could muster as a sixteen-year-old.

Harry scrambled off while Sam tried to snuggle in closer. "Mmm, but you're so soft, Dean." Another click of the camera.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as Dean stood up and shouted, "Uncle Bobby! Stop taking pictures! I'm gonna kill you…"

"You'll have to catch me first," Bobby said as he quickly hustled out of the room. Dean snarled but didn't go after him. He'd find those pictures later and destroy them.

Dean turned to his brothers, now both fully awake. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked gruffly. "Clean this mess up!"

He left the room muttering – Harry and Sam looked at each other before bursting into laughter.

"I heard that!" Dean yelled from the other room. It didn't help – if anything, they laughed louder.

A couple of hours later, it was once again Sam and Harry alone while Dean was out working on cars. Harry was working on his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework (set by Dumbledore, because, of course, seeing as Barty Crouch Jr. hadn't gotten the privilege) while Sam was reading through Harry's copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Now that he knew what to expect, the books appeared exactly as they should and in plain English.

The book had done its intended purpose of distracting Sam to keep him from asking Harry about ten million questions, as he normally did whenever the older boy was trying to do his homework. He was fascinated to learn the differences between wizarding creatures and the ones that they hunted. A magical werewolf (a wizard that had been turned into a werewolf) was quite different from a Muggle one, at least according to this text – it didn't seem like the wizarding variety ate hearts specifically.

"Harry, what's it like to go to Hogwarts?"

Harry set down his pen. "In what way, specifically? I know we've talked about it before. It's probably not all that different from the schools you attend."

Sam leveled a looked at Harry. "Seriously? From what I've read of your textbooks and what you've said, it's not the same at all!"

"Well…maybe not entirely. But I go to class and, as you can see, do homework. Sometimes it's really boring."

"But you get to stay in one place and study and hang out with all of your friends all day."

"I do," Harry said measurably. "And, honestly, Hogwarts has been my home ever since I started going there. I love the castle and my friends, but it's not the same Sam, as having a family. A real blood family."

"Family's overrated," Sam muttered.

"Is something wrong Sam? Did Dean do something to upset you?"

"No. It's just – I want to just be a normal kid. Go to school, come home, do homework, all preferably in the same place for more than a couple of months at a time."

"Ah – well, I wouldn't call anything about my life normal. But have you ever told Dad that's how you feel?"

Sam sighed. "Like a million times – and I always get the same lecture from both him and Dean. About how hunting is our job and we have to protect people. Sometimes I wish…"

Harry knew exactly what he wished, and he certainly could relate. Sam looked so distressed; Harry wondered if he had ever really had the chance to talk to someone about his feelings before.

"Sam, what have Dad and Dean told you about… about me and the wizarding world?"

Sam looked surprised. "Uh – not a lot. But you have to be pretty famous for Pastor Jim to have known who you are from the scar on your forehead."

Harry nodded grimly. "They call me The-Boy-Who-Lived."

"Why?"

"Because the wizard who killed my parents tried to kill me with a curse that no one has ever survived before and – well, as you can see, it didn't take. And he vanished. I was only a little over a year old and everyone, well everyone expects me to be a hero."

Sam didn't say anything, so Harry continued. "But then I came here this summer. And with you and Dean, Dad and Bobby, I've just gotten to be…me. I'm dying to know what is happening in Britain, and I know I have my part to play, but just knowing that afterward, I have a family to come back to somehow makes it easier. It's hard to explain."

"I know, I should be grateful…" Sam said somewhat miserably.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all! I'm rubbish at this whole big brother thing. What I'm trying to say, Sam is that I can see how you feel stuck, and understand what that feels like. But we're family, and, honestly, I don't care what road you choose. And the choice is ultimately yours. At the end of whatever journey Dad has set off whether or not you chose to go with him or stray off, I will be there."

Sam wasn't sure if anyone had ever told him that it didn't matter if he became a hunter before. Not Dean and certainly not Dad. He wiped some tears from his eyes and swallowed the knot in his throat.

"You promise?" He asked misty-eyed.

Harry looked him straight in the eyes. "I promise."

Sam believed him.

III\=

"Harry Potter," Sirius said into the mirror. He waited a couple of minutes. "Harry Potter," he said again, with a little more urgency.

Harry's face appeared in the mirror. "Sirius? Why are you calling so late – it's nearly three in the morning there, isn't it? Has Voldemort attacked? Is everyone ok?"

"Everyone's fine. But we need to talk, are you alone?"

Harry looked up from his place at the dinner table: Sam, Dean, and Bobby all staring at him.

"Uh, no, but I could go someplace more private…"

"Please do. Right now." There was a harshness to his tone that surprised Harry. It also pissed off Bobby and Dean.

"So that's your godfather, eh?" Bobby asked. "Nice guy."

"Er – he's not usually like this. Would you all excuse me a moment?"

Bobby waved him off. Harry went up to the bedroom and closed the door.

"What's going on Sirius?" He asked worriedly.

"I just got out of a meeting with Dumbledore, and he had some disturbing news."

There was a pause, Harry waiting for his godfather to continue. "Was it about Voldemort?"

"No. He got a letter from the Headmaster of Ilvermorny. Harry, the letter said that John had met with him to see about you transferring in."

That surprised Harry. And oddly, made him feel a warm glow inside. John wanted him to stay.

"Did you know about this?" Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't. Did he tell the headmaster that I was here?"

"No, no. The letter talked about Henry Winchester. Harry, you know you can't stay, right? Lily and James – they may have originally wanted you to go back to your birth parents, and I promised them, on my honor that I would see you back in the States. I've done that now – but they knew that this war was more important than your American family, it's why they kept you for as long as they did. You have to come home."

"But –" It didn't make sense.  Sirius wasn't sounding like himself.

"No buts, Harry. We have an obligation - we have to play our parts. It's terrible, I know, but James and Lily gave their lives to this war. Other than you, defeating Voldemort was the only thing they cared about. It's a dishonor to their memories for you to try and back out."

That hurt. "If I'm so important to this war, then WHY IN THE BLOODY HELL HASN'T ANYONE TOLD ME ANYTHING ALL SUMMER? And, also, I'm not trying to back out, but Sirius, the Winchesters, they are my family."

"I'm your family Harry. I broke out of Azkaban to protect you. And we'll fill you in when you return home."

Harry laughed hollowly. "Why wait?"

"Dumbledore has his reasons." There was a little bitterness in his tone.

"I'm sure he does! Why doesn't he talk to me himself then? If it's so important that I come back." It wasn't even that Harry didn't have every intention of returning to Hogwarts, but being told that he had no choice didn't sit well with him.

"Dumbledore is a busy man, Harry James. He asked me to speak to you on his behalf. I know you understand what needs to be done. And while your cover is still held in the US, it's not going to last forever. Voldemort will try to reach you, even if you're in another country. And Dumbledore can't protect you there the way he can here and at Hogwarts. I can't protect you if you're in the States. Your family will not be safe if he discovers them. Voldemort will not only use their deaths to hurt you, he would relish in it. If you get found out, and you will, he will go after your family and they won't stand a chance against him."

Harry sighed. He knew that was true and his heart sank. The Winchesters may be new to him, but endangering them was his worst possible nightmare.

"I understand Sirius, I'll come back to the UK, as planned, don't worry."

"You promise Harry?"

"I promise." It was his second promise of the day, but this one caused a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Good. I better be getting to bed then, you too Harry. Good night."

"Night."

Harry wanted nothing more than to shatter the mirror, but he knew it would be of no use. There was no contradicting Dumbledore. And if another family died because of him… he didn't think he could stand it.

III

Well after Sam and Dean had fallen asleep, Harry crept down to the kitchen, his mind racing far too much to settle down for the night. He sat down at the kitchen table with a glass of water to brood over what Sirius had said to him. The light flicked on. It was Bobby.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked gruffly.

Harry frowned. "No."

"Yeah, I understand that. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Bobby sat across from him at the table. "I think you might need to. What did your godfather say to you?" His inflection on the word godfather made it sound like a curse word.

"Nothing much. Just reminded me of my duty."

"And what duty is that?"

"To the wizarding world – to my family. He told me that I have to finish what my parents started."

"Bullshit."

Harry looked up at that. "No, you don't understand, my parents, Lily and James, they fought Voldemort. It was their mission in life to see him defeated. I'm the only one that's ever done it."

"So that means you're the only one that can do so now?"

"I guess so," Harry said miserably.

"Bull-fucking-shit. Harry, how old are you?"

"Almost fifteen," he muttered.

"That's right, you have a birthday coming up. You know what you should be worried about as a fifteen-year-old? Girls. Graduating from high school. What you're going to wear to the prom."

"Wizards don't have proms."

"That doesn't matter. Anyone who puts the weight of the world on the shoulders of a teenager has something seriously wrong with them."

"Does that include John?" Harry asked, insightfully.

Bobby grunted. "Yeah, that includes your Daddy. The training he puts you boys through – the pressure he puts on Dean, the expectations he lays on Sam. They're not right. And neither is it right for you. For god's sake, you're children. There has to be another way."

"But what if there isn't?" It was a quiet question.

"Then let it be someone else's problem. Harry, I've known your dad for a long time. If you don't want to return to England, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want you to either, you don't have to go. He'll protect you. I'll protect you. Hell, from the way Dean's been treatin' you these days, I'm pretty sure they'd have to go through him as well."

"That's what I'm worried about," Harry said, dejected. "I don't want to put their lives at risk. Sirius is right, they'd be better off without me."

"Now you listen here, young man." Bobby snapped, getting Harry's attention. "The lives of the Winchester family are not on your shoulders. Anyone who says otherwise is a fool and an ass. You people are plenty talented at creating your own kind of trouble. You hear me?"

Harry nodded. It was weird to hear himself included in the Winchester family, but it still felt…right.

"Good. Now, we can talk about this more in the morning. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

"Alright." Harry hesitated a moment. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He snorted. "It ain't nothing but common sense. But you're welcome."

The middle Winchester left.

"I know you're there Dean, you might as well come out."

Dean entered the kitchen, somewhat sheepishly.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it. I know that he was having a tough time after the conversation with his godfather, I wanted to be sure he was alright."

"Of course you did," Bobby said sardonically. 

"Uncle Bobby, did you mean what you said about Dad?"

"Every word. He puts too much on you – and I've told him so myself."

Dean gave a short laugh. "I bet that went well."

Bobby also laughed. "Yeah, it went about as well as could be expected. But I mean it. You're a kid, and so are your brothers. You don't deserve to have the weight of the world thrust on you."

"Dad only gives me what I can handle," he said defensively.

Bobby just looked sad. "You shouldn't have to handle any of it. But your daddy is doing what he thinks is right by you, even though I disagree. This godfather of Harry's – it sounds like he did quite the number on him."

"Yeah, it does. What can I do?"

Bobby shook his head. "Just be his brother. Let your father and me worry about the rest."

"Alright. 'Night Bobby."

"Goodnight Dean."

Bobby wasn't about to leave the safety of any of the Winchester boys to chance. He was a paranoid bastard, after all, and the thought that wizards could remove memories…was alarming. He had already written himself several letters, hidden in a special book, but he decided to write another. Just in case.

III

Birthdays, as a rule, were not usually a big deal for the Winchesters. More often than not, it would be Sam and Dean alone in a motel room, quietly celebrating together. A slice of pie for Dean, a small, often stolen, gift for Sam. Neither one of them even knew when John's birthday was. However, it had been made clear to both brothers that Harry had never even had that much for his birthday. Once he started Hogwarts, sure, he might get some presents from his friends, but never an actual celebration with family. Sam and Dean were determined that his first birthday with them would be more special.

Granted, the sixteen- and twelve-year-old boy's version of special probably differed from what others might do, it is the effort that counts.

Dean, for one, had made it a point to call his father every single day to make sure that he would be back in time. The latest had been a "God-damn it, Dean, I said I'll be there, so I will be. Don't call again," before an abrupt hang-up. Dean had, of course, called again the next day.

Sam had been sneaky. He carefully went through Harry's bag to find his passport so he knew the exact day to celebrate. Also, under the guise of asking her more questions about Hogwarts, he had snuck the mirror out of the room to ask Hermione about Harry's favorite things. She told him that Harry's favorite was treacle tart and gave him a recipe. (Sam enjoyed his chats with Hermione – and thought she might be the prettiest and smartest girl he had ever spoken with.)

He had also learned that Harry loved flying, playing chess, and the colors red and gold because of his house. Bobby had also been recruited to pick up decorations – much to his amusement and dismay. He wasn't quite sure how the boys managed to rope him in on this whole scheme, but he supposed if anyone deserved a nice party, it would be Harry. It had the bonus of when he was arguing with the local grocery store baker about treacle tart and the availability of ingredients, that he ran into Officer Mills. She had initially come over to see what the shouting was about, and by explaining to her that this was all for a birthday party for Harry, helped allay some of her fears.

In the end, he had returned to his house with red vines, yellow streamers, red balloons, and a plan to buy a pre-made store cake in the next town over, because the baker at their store refused to talk to him again. He had shoved them at Sam in a paper bag before stomping off to his garage.

A couple of days later, just in time, the sound of the Impala driving over the gravel of the driveway could be heard. Sam was currently distracting Harry by asking him to describe Quidditch while Dean was on the lookout downstairs.

"Dad!" Dean called out, as his father stepped out of the car. "You made it."

John looked at his eldest. "I said I would," he said crossing his arms. "Not that you believed me." Pastor Jim stepped out of the other side of the car.

"Were you able to find what you needed so Harry could stay?" He asked anxiously. " 'Cause I've been talking to him and I think it is worse for him than we originally thought."

John sighed. "I think so, but it ain't going to be easy." Dean nodded - nothing ever was when it came to their family. "Now, I believe that there is a birthday party happening inside?"

"There is. Just wait until you see what Sammy did to Uncle Bobby's kitchen."

John smiled and the three of them headed inside.

If Harry didn't know any better, he would say that Sam was up to something. He had never really shown interest in the mechanics of Quidditch in the past, but he had kept Harry talking for about half an hour now.

"Dad's home!" Dean yelled up the stairs.

Sam grinned. "Let's go see him!"

The two of them went downstairs to the kitchen. As they entered, Bobby, John, Pastor Jim, Dean, and Sam all yelled, "Surprise!"

Harry was a bit blown away. There were yellow streamers taped up to the kitchen cupboards and red balloons, also taped at random intervals. On the table, there was a cake that said, "Happy Birthday!" on it and a couple of presents. Sam was beaming like a cat who caught the canary at the look of surprise on his brother's face. Dean was a little embarrassed by the childish décor. Harry was shocked.

"Wow. Er – thank you. My birthday is coming up in a couple of days." He didn't want to outright say that they were three days off. Sam's face fell a little.

"But your passport says that your birthday is July 28th!"

Harry thought about it. "Oh right, how strange. I forgot that my American birthday was three days earlier."

"And I can confirm that you were born on the 28th, Harry, seeing as I was there." John supplied.

"Oh, right then. Well thank you – this is, this is great." He didn't have the words to express how this little surprise party made him feel. It was literally the nicest thing anyone in his family had ever done for him.

Sam smiled wide again. "Presents! You have to open your presents! And then blow out your candles, of course. We couldn't get any treacle tart, Uncle Bobby pissed the baker off too much, so he got a chocolate cake instead. I hope that's alright."

Harry blinked. "Yeah, chocolate cake is great. I can't believe you got me presents - you didn't have to."

"We wanted to Harry," said Pastor Jim.

"And don't get too excited, they ain't much," Bobby said gruffly.

Harry didn't care as long as they weren't anyone's old pair of socks. He reached for the first one, a little embarrassed. He had never opened birthday gifts in front of anyone before, and Christmas was different because everyone had presents to open.

"Oooh, that one's mine," Sam said. Harry started opening the paper carefully. "Just rip it already!" Sam exclaimed.

Harry grinned and followed instructions. It was a package of Red Vines. "Thanks, Sammy, these are my favorite."

The next felt like a book. It was from Bobby – a primer on fighting demons. "It's in Latin, and I figure since you said that demons don't go after wizards you might want some more information."

"Thanks, Bobby." He was interested in demons, to a degree. They had briefly been mentioned in History of Magic as a Muggle problem – as they couldn't possess wizards and their powers could rarely match those of an educated witch or wizard. Harry didn't know it, but the book also contained a couple of Polaroid pictures Bobby had taken of the boys over the last couple of weeks.

Next a plastic grocery bag, from Dean, with a dark green cargo jacket. "Uh – you don't seem to have many winter clothes," he said, self-conscious about the gift, as the jacket had once been his, "and we tend to be in real cold places, thought it might be useful."

Harry recognized the jacket as something either of his brothers might wear, which made him feel more like a part of the family. "It's great, thank you."

Next, another book, this one from Pastor Jim. A Guide to No-Maj America. "This gives you more information about the wizarding culture here in the US more than No-Majes, who are quite similar to those in England."

Harry nodded his thanks. That was all the gifts on the table, but John reached into his jacket and pulled out a brown paper bag. "I didn't have a chance to wrap it, but here you go, happy birthday son."

Harry took the bag and pulled out a handgun. It was the same handgun that John had already given to him. He raised his eyebrows.

"Look at the handle," John instructed. Harry did. On the silver part, there were two initials. "H.W." It made a knot swell in Harry's throat.

"Thanks," he managed to croak out.

"Maybe this will help you remember not to leave it at the house. Ever." John said pointedly.

"Right – yeah, I'll keep it on me. Dean's been showing me how to use it."

"Good," said John, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Cake now!" Sam called out, ending the moment between father and son. "I'll light the candles, then we all have to sing…"

The rest of the evening was filled with eating cake, laughing, and watching movies. Harry could honestly say that it was the best birthday he ever had – and that included the one where he found out he was a wizard. He should have known that it was too good to be true.

III

"Zachariah, it's time for you to find your host. This situation has progressed far further than it ever should have. We can't risk the fate of the Winchester brothers with one of them." Michael was angry.  Of course, when one brother wasn't causing an issue, it was another.  This was not The Plan. He had one more trick up his sleeve, but should it not work out, it was time to take direct action.

III

Later that evening, John pulled Harry aside from everyone else. "I have one more present for you, Harry," he said.

Harry was surprised. "But I've already gotten so much…"

"You haven't, truly. But I'm not sure you're going to like this one." He handed his middle child a letter – on parchment. Harry opened it and read aloud.

"Dear Mr. Winchester,

I am pleased to inform you that your transfer to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been approved. Please see the enclosed supplies list…."

"Is this an acceptance letter to Ilvermorny?" Harry asked, somewhat stupidly.

"Yeah, it is. I've given it a lot of thought Harry. You're not safe in England, with that Lord Volermory,"

"Voldemort," Harry corrected.

"Whatever, him. You are not safe from him. And I've read that book about your time at Hogwarts, and I'm not too impressed at the track level of safety there."

"Oh, I'm sure that was exaggerated…" Harry tried to deflect.

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't. Jim and I did a decent amount of talking and Harry, what you've had to face, already, is completely unacceptable. I can't send you back."

While that was nice, he supposed, Harry didn't think John had any choice in the matter. And neither did he. "You don't understand…" he started.

John glared. "I understand that my son isn't safe where he has been living. And that is unacceptable."

"But what about hunting with Sam and Dean? Isn't that dangerous?" Harry could feel his indignation grow.

"Sam and Dean never go hunting alone. Sam doesn't do anything but salt n' burns. In any case, they are always with me, and I keep them safe. I train them, yes, but only on cases that are cut and dry. If I have one inkling of doubt, neither goes. But this isn't about Sam and Dean. This is about you."

"You don't understand, I have a responsibility…"

"A responsibility of what? To defeat a wizard with half a century's more experience than you? A wizard that your headmaster can't defeat?"

"Well, Dumbledore could, I'm sure if he wanted…"

"No. If he wanted to, and if he could, I'm sure he would have." John was getting frustrated. "Have you ever asked yourself why it's you? You, a fifteen-year-old kid?"

Harry stiffened. "I'm not a child. And there are…reasons." Talking about the power of his mother's love didn't seem very sound at the moment. Plus, John simply didn't understand Harry's place in the wizarding world.

"Harry, there is a difference between not being allowed to be a kid and not being one. You are a kid, my kid. It is my responsibility to protect you."

Harry scoffed. "And how are you going to do that? How can you possibly protect me from Voldemort? He's coming for me, I know it, I can feel it. He certainly has before. And if I'm here, when he does, then I am putting your life in danger. And Dean's and Sam's."

"That is not your concern, that is mine. I am the adult here."

"YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A POWERLESS MUGGLE!" Harry shouted. "If I'm at Ilvermorny, you can hardly protect me there. What, you going to bring Dean and Sam and move in with me while I attend classes?"

"It isn't ideal. But I'd be able to check in on you – get to you if I needed to. But, Harry, I'm sorry, you seem to think this is a discussion. It's not. You are staying in the United States. You will be attending Ilvermorny. End of story."

"YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT," Harry yelled.

"I think you'll find that I do. I am your father Harry, and I know what's best. Now, it's late, you should be getting to bed."

Harry spun around and left the room. John didn't understand, and honestly, Dumbledore would never allow him to stay, even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. He probably didn't. Harry shook off the feeling. It wasn't safe for him to stay. He wasn't safe. It made him sad, but he was going to have to take the portkey home now. He didn't know what would happen if he didn't.

Heart racing, he pounded up the stairs. Dean and Sam weren't in the room – but Pastor Jim was. Harry looked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing here?"

John came in the doorframe behind Harry.

"Harry, I asked Jim to remove your magical items – except your wand, of course, you should keep that on you at all times. He said that you likely had some sort of transportation device that would take you home. He's also taken the mirror."

"WHAT?" Harry yelled - louder than he thought he had ever yelled in his life. "WHERE DID YOU PUT MY THINGS, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT."

"Harry, I know you're upset," Pastor Jim started.

"UPSET? YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ME UPSET!" Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the pastor. "Give me back my stuff, now."

Jim put his hands up. "I don't have them here with me, and even if I did, I wouldn't. They've been locked away for safekeeping. Now, put down your wand, I know that you won't hurt me. Or John."

Harry wasn't sure that he agreed. He was ready to hex both of them seven different ways. Harry rushed over to his suitcase to see what had been taken.

"You took my BROOM? And my CLOAK?! YOU GIVE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW, THAT'S THE ONLY PIECE OF MY FATHER THAT I HAVE LEFT." Harry could feel his magic surging, and he didn't want to tamper it down – lights flickered.

"Harry, your father is standing right behind you." Pastor Jim said, calmly.

"That man is NOT my father. He's just an ARSEHOLE Muggle who doesn't know anything." Harry was about to blast his way out of the room and do an inch-by-inch search of the house if need be, but Sam appeared behind John. He looked hurt at Harry's comment.

"You can't mean that Harry," he said.

"Look, Sam…"

"Sam, go downstairs and stay with Dean and Bobby. Like I told you to."

"But Dad, Harry's…"

"Go, now."

Sam went, dejected. That conversation was enough to put a small hole in Harry's anger. He didn't want to hurt his brothers.

"Fine. Take my stuff. Just you wait – Dumbledore and Sirius will come for me if I don't go home and I don't answer the mirror."

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," John said evenly, thinking that he had more than enough guns to keep the men away from his child. Jim and Missouri were also looking into some wards that could be applied if need be.

"I'm going to have Jim take Sam and Dean to his house tonight, to give you time to cool off. We'll talk more in the morning." John said. Jim stood up to leave too. Harry glared. There was no point in hexing them now – let them think that he'd cooled down, he'd find his stuff and leave here as soon as possible. He'd be out of here by his real birthday.

III

The next few days were the worst. Dean knew Harry would be pissed, but he didn't realize how angry he would be. He and Harry had quibbled a lot at the beginning of the summer, but he had never seen the full force of his brother's anger. There was lots of shouting. And a lot of burnt-out lightbulbs. Several electronics had to be replaced because Harry's magic exploded them in fits of anger.

Harry also spent much of his waking moments searching the house for his things, when he thought John or Bobby weren't watching. Dean happened to know that they were in a magically-warded safe provided by Pastor Jim in the basement, but it was worth more than his life to tell Harry that.

Sam was pretty distressed at the turn of events. Harry was still perfectly civil to his brothers, but all the joy and levity had gone. They'd hang out, watch TV and movies together, and Sam would ask questions, but it was clear that Harry's heart wasn't into it anymore. And Sam understood, he had wanted to run away from this lifestyle on several occasions, and he had even done so successfully last summer, but he had thought that Harry liked them. He had thought that he would stay, and honestly, selfishly, Sam believed having another brother around would make his life easier. Not being the sole focus of Dean and his father had been refreshing. But the glum, angry, angsty version of his brother was less than fun.

Harry also refused to take part in any more hunter drills. One morning, Sam had come into the bedroom (where Harry was spending most of his time - when he wasn't wandering around the house trying to accio his things) and said hesitantly, "Hey Harry, Dad says it's time for some drills - he wants us on the front porch in ten minutes."

Harry snorted. "No."

Sam looked surprised. "You can't say no!"

"Maybe you can't. But what's he going to do? You can't force someone to run. Well, Muggles can't at any rate."

Sam was flabbergasted. While he argued with his father regularly, he didn't have the nerve to outright refuse.

"Alright then." He left.

Dean saw his youngest brother come down the stairs. He raised an eyebrow. "Is Harry on his way?"

Sam shook his head. "No, he says that Dad can't force him."

That riled Dean up a bit. "We'll just have to see about that," he said, a hard tone setting in. He went upstairs. Unlike Sam, he wasn't hesitant when he barged into the room.

"Harry," he said, "porch - 8 minutes. It's time for drills."

Harry glared and off handily used an expression he had picked up from Dean. "Bite me."

"Dad says it's time for drills, that means you get your ass downstairs for drills."

"What's he going to do if I don't?" Harry challenged.

"Uh… he will… he'll be mad." Honestly, Dean didn't know. Neither he nor Sam had put up this kind of fight before.

Harry snorted. "Good." He started flipping through a book in front of him.

Dean was at a total loss. Sure that Harry would listen to his father, he left and went downstairs, not wanting to be late himself.

When he arrived on the porch, where Sam was stretching, his father looked at him.

"Where's your brother?" He asked sternly.

"He said he wouldn't come. Rudely."

A stormy look crossed John's face, a look that both Sam and Dean knew that he meant business. He had put up with a lot from his middle son the last couple of days – far more than he would have allowed out of his other two, and he had had enough. This temper tantrum was going to have to come to an end. Soon. "You two - start laps," he commanded as he stomped inside and headed up the stairs. Harry was on his bed, reading a book.

"Harry. It's time for drills. Now. You've already earned yourself an extra ten pushups for talking back to Dean."

Harry didn't even look up when he said, "Nope."

"Henry Winchester. I am your father. If you don't participate in drills, you won't be allowed on hunting trips with your brothers and me." This was the threat that always worked on Sam.

"Don't care," he responded, still not looking up, "don't want to go anywhere with you anyway."

John could feel his face redden. "I'll make Sam and Dean do extra laps and pushups to make up for your misbehavior." This was the threat that would have worked on Dean. (But he had never had to use it for his eldest.) It got Harry to look up. And made the lights flicker slightly in the room.

"You'll punish Sam and Dean for my refusal to play your barmy drill games? Wow, you're the father of the year, aren't you? What's next? Locking me in a cupboard? Denying all of us food? Well, I've had both and worse, so do yours," he said coolly, going back to the book. While Harry didn't want his brothers to suffer for his actions, he was pretty determined not to give in.

That felt like a gut punch to John. He was tough on his boys, yes, but to be compared to his middle child's abusive family put a dent in his normal iron will.

"No TV or outings at all until you participate," he said, sounding lame, even to himself.

Harry scoffed. "Fine. Is that all?"

John didn't respond, just went back downstairs. He'd have to figure out another way to get Harry to comply.

III

Later that week, Harry, Sam, and Dean were watching a summer thunderstorm pass through. Since Harry wasn't allowed to watch TV, or read books, or do his homework (privileges taken away with each refusal to participate in mandatory drills) his brothers had decided to sit on the porch with him in solidarity. The weather had been a bit grey and dreary all day, which did not improve the moods of any of the boys.

John had stuck around and not left on another hunt. He said it was because he wanted to spend time with his sons but all three of them knew it was because he was watching Harry like a hawk. Even now, he was just inside – where he could see the boys but also continue with some research he had been working on.

"Harry, I don't understand, we've had such a good time this summer, why do you want to leave?"

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. Here we go again he thought, giving Harry a side-eye, hoping this didn't lead to an explosion, as it had in the past. (Occasionally, an actual explosion – even though Harry had offered to buy him a new one, Bobby was still a little bitter about his TV.)

Harry had begun to ignore the question lately, but today he was feeling a bit beat down. And he didn't feel like yelling at his younger brother, or anyone, anymore. Plus, those puppy eyes…

"We have had a good time this summer, Sammy. And, if I can work things out with John," (fat chance he thought), "I can come back other summers. But there's a war brewing back home, and I can't leave my friends to fight it alone."

"A war?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, not elaborating because Dean was giving him the kill sign behind Sam.

"If I were anyone else, or this was any other time, I would stay in a heartbeat, Sam. I like having brothers. And John can be…tolerable, I suppose." Harry had reverted to refusing to call John Dad. Dean found this insubordinate, but he kept that thought to himself. Sam had already gotten very attached to Harry and looked up to him. Dean didn't doubt that Dad would win in the end, but if he didn't, and Harry went home, Dean wasn't sure that he'd be able to forgive his brother for hurting Sam.

Sam just looked sad, which hurt both his brothers. A chill ran through the air, and darkness fell suddenly. Harry, sat up, alert.

"Do you feel that?" he asked his brothers.

"Yeah," Dean said, "but it's beginning to cool down for the night… wait." Another blast of cold and Dean suddenly felt really sad. Almost in tears level of sadness. Sam was crying. Harry's face had gone grey.

"Sam, Dean, get inside." He said, with almost a perfect impression of their father. The wind picked up and Harry drew his wand and discarded his bracelet.

"Sam, go get Dad," Dean ordered, not leaving Harry out there by himself.

"What is it?" He asked his brother.

"Dementors." Harry could see them now – three of them coming down the alleys of cars in formation.

"What are those?" Dean couldn't see anything at all.

"Soul eating wizard monsters. I can take them, Dean, get inside."

Harry sprinted off the porch, towards whatever invisible, evil creature was out there. Dean swore and grabbed his gun, running after his brother. John was close behind.

"Harry, Dean, get back here!" He yelled, trying to dash out in front of his boys, gun at the ready. He couldn't see anything either, but he could follow Harry's gaze. He felt the same way that he did the night Mary died – he could practically hear her screams. If he hadn't been so scared for his son's life, he would have dropped to the ground with the grief of it all.

He fired his gun into the air and heard a screeching sound. He'd hit something, even if he couldn't see it.

"Expecto patronum!" Harry yelled. A bright light came shooting out of his wand, towards the creatures, John supposed. More screeching. This must not have been the first time that Harry had fought these.

John lost his focus when he practically tripped over Dean, who was lying on the ground, sobbing.

"Are you ok son?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Harry.

Dean couldn't seem to get anything out, just mumbles. John felt an arm on his back and he turned around quickly, ready to shoot anything coming at him.

"Relax, John, it's me," Bobby said, also with a shotgun in his hands. "What are those things? I can't see a damn thing."

"I don't know – but look, Harry's running after them! Bobby –"

"I'll take care of Dean, get him back into the house, you go after your boy."

John took off, as quickly as he could, shooting wildly into the air.

Harry managed to chase two of them off, but the third dashed behind some cars and circled around. He could see that it was heading back towards the house when he ran straight into John.

"Harry what are you thinking? Those things – what are they?"

"Dad, no time," Harry said, not even catching his slip. "One's headed back to the house. These things, they suck all of the happiness out of you and, once they've done that, they suck out your soul."

John's eyes widened. "The boys!" He exclaimed and the two of them ran back together, matching each other stride for stride.

Bobby was no longer next to Dean where John had left them. He was frozen to where he stood, staring into space, a look of total devastation on his face.

"Bobby where's Dean?" John asked desperately. Bobby didn't answer, but Harry saw one of the dementors swoop down closer to the porch. He went running, and John followed.

Dean was prone on the ground, with the dementor just above him, inching closer and closer to Dean's face.

"No!" Harry yelled. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" trying to think of every happy moment he could summon up. Building a fort with his brothers, finding a father who loved him, birthday presents…

The Dementor let out another shriek and went flying off. It was like a fog had lifted. Dean began to wake up. "What happened…."

"Don't worry about it," John said. "I'm going to go get Bobby, Harry, take your brother inside." John watched faintly as Harry helped Dean into the house. But he wasn't John anymore. While Harry had been scaring off the last Dementor, a voice had come to John.

'John Winchester,' it said. 'I can feel your fear. Harry didn't make it in time, Dean's soul is gone and he is going to die, and then Sam, and finally Harry. You are going to lose all of your children today.'

'What?' John asked, the real fear he had felt from the presence of the dementors sinking into him.

'They will all die. But I can help.'

'Who are you?'

'I'm an Angel of the Lord. If you let me, I can save your family.'

That was all that John wanted in the entire world. And with the effect of the dementors, he didn't question it. 'What do you need me to do?'

'Just say yes, I'll take over your body and save your family. Then I'll leave, and you won't be any the wiser.'

'And they'll all be alright, the boys, Bobby?'

'They will be restored and in perfect health.'

'Yes, then,' John said, not hesitating at all. And then he knew nothing.

III

"Don't worry about it," John said. "I'm going to go get Bobby, Harry, take your brother inside."

Harry, for once, didn't hesitate to do what he was told. He helped Dean up, slung his arm over his shoulder, and bore his brother's weight until they got to the kitchen, where Sam was waiting, anxiously.

"What's going on? Where are Dad and Bobby? Is Dean ok?" He shot off.

"Sam, get chocolate now."

That confused him. "What?"

"Chocolate. Anything. Any of my cake left? The chocolate candy from a couple of weeks ago? Chocolate milk? Anything. It helps."

Sam was fairly used to strange orders, so he followed them because Harry's tone of voice had been that serious. He pulled some candy out of the cupboards and gave them to his brother.

"Help me feed these to him," Harry said. "And eat one yourself as well."

Sam unwrapped some of the chocolate and proceeded to coax Dean into eating one. Dean hadn't said a word since arriving in the kitchen and looked to be in a daze. The chocolate revitalized him a bit.

John and Bobby came into the kitchen, passing over the salt line created by Sam earlier. They looked terrible. "Sam, get them some chocolate too."

Sam did as he was told. Bobby was surprised but when the warmth of the chocolate flooded over him, he finally understood and started shoving it down his mouth.

"You too Harry," Sam said, after experiencing the rejuvenating food. Harry nodded and ate some as well – his pulse finally slowing down.

"What in hell's name were those things?" Bobby asked when he could finally speak again.

"They were Dementors," Harry said. "They're evil."

"No kiddin', but what did they do to us?"

"They are dark creatures. They feed on the happiness of people, and they drain you of all of your happy memories and your good feelings. Until you are a husk of a person, then they take your soul."

There was a shudder throughout the whole room.

They all sat around for a good half an hour, just eating the candy and slowly coming back to themselves.

John, who seemed the most composed, and hadn't said anything since getting back into the house, finally spoke.

"Bobby are you well enough to go get Harry's things from the safe?"

Everyone looked very surprised. Bobby assumed that he wanted a moment alone with his boys. Which was fine by him, there was whiskey on the way to the basement, which he felt he needed more than chocolate. And maybe he was finally going to take his advice and listen to Harry.

John turned to Sam and Dean. "I need you to give us the room," he said to them, somewhat coldly. That surprised them, but something seemed off, so they both stood right outside the kitchen door.

"Harry, we need to talk," he said as the other two left the room. Harry looked up. "I think the wizards were right."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"They were right. You don't belong in this family."

Harry looked into John's eyes to see if this was some kind of joke. He saw nothing in them.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." He said, quietly.

"You don't belong. But it's not because we're a danger to you. It's because you're a danger to us. Tonight proved that. You're a freak and I don't want you anywhere near my sons." He drew out his gun. "I want you to go upstairs and pack your things. Bobby is bringing up your other items, it's time for you to go."

John's gun was level at him. Harry knew that with his wand, he might be able to disarm the man, but he didn't want to risk hurting him, despite the terrible words coming out of his mouth. Also, Dean and Sammy were close by and the thought of injuring either of his brothers was too dreadful to take the chance.

"I meant it, Harry. You're not welcome here. You are a freak and a danger to me and my sons. You just aren't normal." He motioned with his gun for Harry to move, directing him towards the staircase. Harry wondered where he had found the word that would hurt him the most.

"Dad, how can you say that to him?" Dean demanded as they entered where the two brothers had been listening just outside the door.

"Dean, stay out of this," he ordered without taking his eyes off of Harry. "Take Sam and go to the car. I mean it – that's an order."

Dean hesitated. "You can't possibly…"

"Dean, now." He replied hardly.

"Yes sir."

Sam found his voice. "This is wrong Dean – dad was going to convince him to stay! He's our brother."

"Dean, do as I say. You too Sam."

Dean dragged a struggling Sam out of the room.

They were in the front entrance hall, where Bobby appeared, slightly out of breath.

"What's goin' on? I heard shouting."

"Uncle Bobby, Dad's gone crazy!" Sam exclaimed. "He's telling Harry he has to go back to England – you have to stop him."

"Dean?" Bobby asked, looking for confirmation.

"I don't know what came over him, Uncle Bobby. Maybe it has something to do with those dementy thingings from earlier… But he has a gun on him – he told Sam and me to go to the car. I don't want to be the reason he hurts Harry."

"He's drawn his gun on a 15-year-old boy? That asshole. You're right Dean, take Sam and go, I'll see if I can reason with him. Did something happen? Did you smell sulfur or see black smoke?

Dean shook his head. "No sir. And he stepped right over a salt line, I don't see how he could be possessed."

Bobby grabbed his gun from the wall. "Alright then, you boys go on outside."

Dean nodded and took Sam with him.

Upstairs, Harry was frantically packing his things, trying his best not to let hot tears of humiliation fall down his face. He supposed he deserved this, for allowing himself to hope… no, it wasn't worth it.

John was still speaking. "You belong to your own kind, although, if it were up to me, we'd hunt the lot of you just like we hunt all the other unnatural, dangerous creatures of this world. You're never to come back, you hear me. If I hear that you've come back into this country or catch sight of you near my boys, I will kill you. No fancy magic powers will be able to save you."

"JOHN WINCHESTER," Bobby shouted. "What in the name of Sam Hill are you saying to that boy? He is your son."

John didn't move his eyes, or gun, off of Harry.

"He might have been once. But he isn't anymore. My second son is dead. He died when he was just hours old. It's better that way."

"What in hell…"

"Don't worry about it, Bobby, I'm going," Harry said harshly, his voice breaking slightly. He grabbed the items in Bobby's hands and started packing some of them as well.

"Harry, something's wrong, this isn't John, don't go."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Clearly it is. I'm sorry Bobby, for intruding this summer, I know time with the boys means a lot to you."

"Harry, you didn't…"

Harry shook his head and interrupted, "Thanks for everything Bobby, take care, and watch out for my brothers for me? You're a better father than him. Portus."

He vanished from the room with a pop. He never noticed the faint blue glow behind his father's eyes.

Bobby looked at John incredulously. "What did you do?" He asked. Never in a million years did he expect this.

"The right thing. I'm just going to grab the boys' things, and then we'll leave."

"John Winchester, if you leave without giving me a better explanation than that, you had better never come back."

John nodded. "Understood." He haphazardly threw the boy's things into their bags and moved down the stairs quickly.

Bobby followed him, getting more and more furious by the moment. John got into the car, where Sam and Dean were waiting, ready to ask more questions.

"If you ever come back here, I'll blast you full of buckshot!" He yelled while cocking his shotgun.

The Impala squealed off.

As soon as it did, a man appeared right in front of Bobby. One he had never seen before. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, pointing his gun at the man.

"No need for that Bobby Singer," the man said, flicking the gun out of his hands. He placed his hand on Bobby's forehead. "You won't remember me, or that boy."

Bobby fell down. When he woke up, in his bed, he wouldn't remember a thing about Henry Winchester.

Sam and Dean kept asking their dad questions as he drove, furiously. He ignored them as he pulled into a motel parking lot. He went and got a room. The three of them entered, and immediately, fell, prone. Zachariah, fresh from Bobby's came into the room and wiped their memories. After all, the last thing the angels needed was one of them getting into their grand plans. Everything should go according to plan now – he had already gotten to the other people in the Winchester's lives who had encountered young Harry.

The next day, not remembering his middle child at all, John resumed his hunting schedule. He felt angry at himself, although he wasn't sure why. He also felt determined like he needed to find something out, but he figured that was what it had been for the last eleven years or so – his wife's murderer. He worried constantly about his sons and their safety so he pushed them, harder than ever before, to be on their game to be prepared for what was coming.

III

Harry landed hard in the backyard where he had left Sirius' London house, his eyes red with tears. Damn, he hated wizard travel – he'd far preferred the Impala. No, he couldn't let him think that. Sirius came running out of the house.

"Harry is that you?" He asked, wand pointed at the intruder.

"Yeah, it's me."

Sirius stiffened. "What is your American name?" he asked, to check the identity of his godson.

"Henry Winchester," Harry said bitterly.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Sirius said, lowering his wand and gathering Harry up into a hug. "We hadn't heard from you in days! We were just discussing launching a search party. But we have to get you inside. Here, read this," he said shoving a piece of paper under Harry's nose.

Harry took it, too exhausted to notice that he didn't see the house that had previously been there. "The Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place." The house appeared.

"Come, it's not safe. You're going to have to tell me all about your summer, sounds like you had some Marauder-worthy adventures…"

Harry nodded and followed. This was his life, he determined. Sirius and the upcoming war. He'd forget that he had another family in the US, one that didn't want him. He'd focus on his friends and Hogwarts, and that would make this ache in his chest go away, he was sure of it. He just needed time. After all, he rarely ever thought of the Dursleys, surely, forgetting the Winchesters would be just as easy. He had considered, for the briefest moment, being Henry Winchester. But, with grim determination, he steeled himself. He was Harry Potter, son of Lily and James and there was no reason why anyone would ever need to know otherwise.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Three: Chapter One – Aftermath

September, 2009

Very much aware of the stares (and possible press) around him, Harry did his best to hold in his emotions as he walked his beloved godson to Platform 9 ¾.  It was very difficult to believe that the war had ended over ten years ago.  It was even more difficult to see Teddy about to leave on his own great adventure to Hogwarts. 

And as much as Harry was trying to hold it in, Teddy was certainly helping with the overabundance of joy he was showing to getting to finally go to school.  He and Andromeda had spent the night before at Grimmauld Place with Harry, due to its proximity to Kings Cross.  Teddy had peppered Harry with questions all night – trying to get his surrogate father to tell him how the sorting happened, and also trying to weasel information about secret passageways out of him. 

“Harry, from the son of one Marauder to another – I think you should give me the map,” Teddy tried one last time. 

Harry chuckled and ruffled Teddy’s currently green hair, “Nice try Mr. Lupin.  You may have it in your third year – not before.”

Teddy changed his eye color to match Harry’s and gave him the look of a sad puppy. 

“But I think my father, you know, the one who died when I was only a baby, would want me to have it now.”

Andromeda gasped.  “Edward,” she said warningly.  Harry was known to be fairly sensitive about the death of Remus and Tonks.  But, this time, he just laughed it off. 

“I’ll have you know that said father confiscated the map from me when I was in my third year, and I didn’t get it back until the end of the year.  Maybe I should make it your fourth year instead.”

Teddy’s eyes went wide.  “No!  Third year is good.”

Harry smiled.  “Good agreed, third year it is.”

“Hey!” Teddy exclaimed, realizing the trick he had just fallen for. 

“Alright, buddy, I think it’s time for you to get on the train.  Remember, owl your grandmother after the feast – that’s why you have Moony.  I expect a letter too, at least one a week.” 

“I know, Harry.”

“Ok good.  One last hug and then I’ll leave you with Andy to say your goodbyes.  Remember what I told you?”

Teddy thought for a moment.  “If I’m going to misbehave, don’t get caught?” 

“No, not that,” Harry said, giving a nervous glance to Andy, who didn’t look too thrilled with that advice. 

“Don’t do anything you would do?”

“Not that either – but I did mean it.  Teddy Lupin, I want you to remember that I love you.  And so do your parents and every day you make all of us proud just by being the wonderful boy that you are.”  It was a message very important to Harry – as he felt he had never gotten it himself. 

Teddy burst into tears and hugged Harry.  “Love you too, Harry.”

“Good, now say goodbye to your grandmother, don’t forget to write, and follow in the proud footsteps of our fathers and give McGonagall hell.”

“Harry James!” Andy exclaimed as Harry backed off a couple of steps to give the duo a private moment.  He was going to pay for that later, but it would be worth it. 

After Teddy had boarded the train, he quickly found a window to wave from.  Andy was crying and Harry was doing everything he could not to as they said goodbye to the child that they had more-or-less raised together. 

“Come on Andy,” Harry said, after the train had disappeared from view, “I think a good cuppa is warranted.”

She nodded and the two of them left together.

III

Three days later

Harry walked towards his best friend’s office with determination.  These last three days had made one thing quite clear.  He stepped into her office without knocking.  “Hermione, this time I mean it.  This is my letter of resignation.”  Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples. 

“Harry…”

“Now, I know what you’re going to say.  I know this isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to quit, but this time … I am serious this time.”

“I’m sure you mean it right now Harry, but what about three hours from now?  That’s about how long it took you to come back after the last time you quit.  The time before that, it was less than half an hour.  If this is truly what you want, I will help you, but this is the sixth time Harry James Potter.   The work day is about done, why don’t we go grab a drink and talk this over?  We’ll even invite Ron, I’m sure he can take a break from the store.” 

“Fine, but I do mean it,” Harry muttered. 

Even though it had been more than a decade since the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione felt that Harry had still not fully recovered from a childhood at war.  Honestly, she wasn’t sure she had either, but she had at least moved on with her life.  She had Ron and the kids, and she had risen in the ranks to be Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  Ron, after a stint as an Auror, co-ran the store with George.  The two of them were very happy.  Harry was another case altogether. 

On the outside, he looked extremely successful.  He had become the youngest Head Auror ever.  The-Man-Who-Conquered was still quite famous and had been voted Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor every single year since the war.  Although there were constant rumors as to his actual relationship status.  He and Ginny had dated for a couple of years – and taken many breaks.  Both were quite busy and in no hurry to settle down.  Ginny was Captain of the Holyhead Harpies and had played on the National Quidditch Team.  They were extremely private about their dating life.  Sometimes to the point that Hermione didn’t even know if they were on or off again.  This was very frustrating to Molly, of course, who wanted them to get married already and start a family.  Personally, Hermione thought they were both a long way away from that. 

While being made Head Auror at such a young age was an honor, those on the inside knew why it had happened so quickly for the Boy-Who-Lived.  Harry was one of the best – a great Auror, but he did not like to play by the rules.  He was reckless, a danger to himself.  After Ron had retired, no one else could handle partnering with Harry on field calls – he simply wouldn’t allow anyone to get hurt if he could prevent it.  That protective streak had landed him in too many life-and-death situations for anyone to be comfortable with the status quo.  His friends were sure that he was going to get himself killed.  The Ministry knew that the populace would never forgive them if he died while on the job.  So, he had been promoted to desk duty.  He was actually an excellent administrator, to the pleasant surprise of all.  Even though he had never sought it out, he was a natural leader and, under him, Britain was seeing an unprecedented period of peace. 

That was the outside.  On the inside, Harry was prone to bouts of depression and anxiety.  Many times, Ron and Hermione would have to come “rescue” him from Muggle pubs where he had drunk himself into a stupor.  With the press following his every move and constant reminders of his public approval ratings (which were fickle, of course) as well as the desire to lead as the shining beacon of light for all of wizarding Britain, he was under a lot of pressure.  And the war haunted him.  He still blamed himself for every single innocent death.  Sometimes, that made him determined as hell.  Other times, it reduced him to a sobbing, drunken wreck on the floor of Grimmauld Place.  

Trying to quit his job was a sign that he was beginning to spiral.  Ron and Hermione knew the signs intimately and did their best to help him through it.  Ginny helped too, of course, and all the Weasleys.  But Hermione was beginning to worry that he would never be able to move past this.  She sent a quick Patronus to Ron, asking him to meet the two of them at the Leaky Cauldron as soon as possible.  She also sent one to Hannah. 

Unknown to the public, but highly speculated about by the press, Hannah and Neville had created a second bar of sorts at the Leaky Cauldron.  It was the most exclusive bar in London.  The only people permitted were former members of the DA and the Order of the Phoenix.  No press could get in and no one would leak anything that they overheard or saw.  It was a safe haven for all of them.  But most of all, for Harry.  The group referred to this special, officially non-existent bar as The Room of Requirement.  (This started as a reference to their traditional meeting spot but now was largely a joke about the amount of alcohol needed to satisfy the thirst of the group.) 

Ron managed to arrive at the bar before his wife and best friend and already had beers waiting for them at their usual table.  No other DA members were about – they had the bar to themselves.

“So, I heard you’ve quit again.  Any special reason why this time?”  Ron asked upon seeing his friends.  Harry flushed a bit.           

“Don’t you start in on me already,” he said. 

Ron held his hands up in surrender.  “I’m not starting in on you, but I thought we could at least talk about it.  Is this about Teddy?  Because you just saw him off to Hogwarts for the first time?” 

Harry took a long drink from his beer.  “No… well, maybe.” 

“Ah ha,” said Ron, “Hermione, you owe me a sickle.  Ginny owes me five.”

Hermione grumbled and handed over the money. 

“We had a feeling that his leaving might make you go ‘round the bend again,” Ron explained, not that Harry hadn’t already figured it out on his own. 

“I haven’t gone ‘round the bend,” he said.  “There’s just nothing left for me.  We’ve rounded up the Death Eaters, dark wizards have largely gone underground and all that is left is the usual petty crime.  I don’t even get to fight it anymore!  I do paperwork all day long.  Before, when Teddy was still growing up, I had least wanted to be around for him, but now…”  He finished his beer.  Harry wasn’t coping well with Teddy’s absence. 

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.  They could tell that this was going to be a bad one. 

“Harry, there is an opportunity that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about for a while now,” Hermione said, hesitantly. 

That seemed to pull him out of his head for a second.  “Yeah, what’s that?  It’s not another promotion, is it?  Because I don’t think I could take it.”  He summoned a whiskey bottle from behind the bar, and a glass and poured himself a generous serving. 

“No.  Not a promotion.  More of a… sabbatical.” 

“Are you trying to get me to go on holiday again?  Because you know what happened the last time…”

“Yes, yes, Harry, none of us need to remember what happened in the Maldives,” Ron interjected.  “Trust me, that’s the last time we try to get you to relax.  You realize that we are now banned from several southeast Asian countries, right?”

Harry chuckled.  “Ha, yeah, that’s true.”

“No, not a holiday Harry, a sabbatical.  MACUSA has been asking us for years to lend you to them, they would love for you to teach some workshops to their Aurors.  I’ve always said no on your behalf, you’ve made it clear that you have no interest in the States, although I’m not sure why, but I think it would be good for you.  We all think it will be good for you.  Ginny too.” 

“You’ve already talked to Ginny about this?”  Harry asked although he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Yeah, of course, mate, not just going to send you off without my sister’s permission,” Ron shuddered, “That would not end well.” 

“We’ve also consulted with Luna, you know how she has a sense of these things,” Hermione was referring to the only person who she trusted to do any sort of Divination.  “And she said, and I quote, ‘It’s the only place Harry can heal,’ whatever the hell that means.  She’ll never elaborate.  I know she knows more. She just wants to piss me off.”  (Hermione, at one and a half beers, was already slightly tipsy.)  “But she was very positive about it.” 

Harry hadn’t ever considered returning to the US.  He knew what awaited him there – rejection and hate.  But maybe he deserved it.  Maybe he could face them again. 

“What would be my official purpose then, training Aurors?” 

Hermione smiled.  She didn’t think that she even would have gotten this far.  “Yes and helping them prepare to hold the Quidditch World Cup next summer.” 

Harry didn’t say anything – just poured himself another drink.  Hermione figured it was better than the upfront, “Hell, no,” she had always gotten when suggesting foreign posts in the past. 

Hannah must have spread the word that Harry was out for drinks tonight and in need of the protective company of his friends as old members of the DA started trickling in throughout the night.  Even Neville stopped by to give Harry a fresh update on Teddy – a now proud Hufflepuff, just like his mother before him. 

Hermione had lost count on how many drinks Harry had had before she slipped out to go pick up the kids from Molly’s.  Thankfully, someone had already taken Harry’s wand (she suspected it was George) and Ron had given her the signal that he would watch over their best friend for the rest of the evening, so she felt all right leaving.  They oftentimes took turns, but this seemed like a night where Ron would be best. 

It was getting close to about eleven at night when Harry seemed to be at the point of needing to be cut off.  There was a fine line, that Ron now found instinctually, of allowing Harry to shed some inhibitions and expressing emotions he normally would not and letting him fall into an extremely dark place. 

“Alright, mate,” Ron said, helping Harry up from the booth.  “Time to get you home.”

“But it’s not even midnight yet Ron!”

“I know Harry, but I think you’ve had enough.”

Harry pouted.  It would have been cute if Ron hadn’t seen that look a million times.  And if Harry wasn’t a grown man. 

Harry stood and wobbled, and it took all of Ron to hold him steady.  While his best friend was leaning on him, still complaining about having to go home so early, George came over and sneaked Harry’s wand into Ron’s pocket.  “Thanks,” Ron muttered. 

“You need help?” a George.

“No, I got him,” Ron grunted back, struggling a bit under Harry’s weight.

Harry drunk and magic were not a good combination.  The-Boy-Who-Lived was just too strong magically and while accidental magic was no longer a problem for him, no matter what his mood, he would sometimes put just a little too much power into his spells when he’d been drinking.  It may or may not be the reason why the Golden Trio was no longer welcome in the majority of Southeast Asia.  Or Reykjavík.  (Rio was probably just a temporary ban though.) 

Ron expertly steered Harry towards the floo and managed (somehow) to get them both back to Grimmauld Place without any major disasters. 

Harry collapsed on the sofa. 

“Ron,” he said, he slurred, “I’m not sure going to the States is the best idea.  They hate me there.”  He was very serious.  “Said I was a freak.” 

Ron was very confused.  As far as he knew, Harry had never been to the States.  He had refused to cross the border when Ginny had been playing in the last World Cup in Canada and all his friends were headed to the American side of Niagara Falls. 

“I’ve heard they love you over there – quite the Harry Potter mania for a while.  But the war’s been over for years and I’m sure the hype has cooled by now.”

Harry shook his head.  “Nope, nope, told me never come back.  Not safe.”

“America’s not safe?  Have you heard something?”

“No, no.  I’m not safe.”

“Mate, you’re not making any sense at all.”

Harry huffed. “Wait here,” he said in his most commanding Head-Auror voice, which was negated by his walk as he toddled off.  Ron was at a loss and was debating on whether or not to follow him. 

“Ron, get in here!” Harry yelled from the study on the other side of the room.  Ron ran over.  Harry was fumbling with the magical safe.  “I need my wand,” he said.  

“Uh, Harry, you’re still pretty drunk, I’m not sure…”

“Ronald Weasley, you give my wand back to me or I’ll tell Hermione about, about…” he thought for a second and then said, “you-know-what.”  When Ron just gave him an impatient look, Harry tried again.  “I’ll tell your mum.”

Ron turned white, gulped, and handed it over, hoping that he wouldn’t regret it.

Harry used his wand to unlock the safe.  “Here, you can have this back,” he said, surprising his friend by giving his wand back for safe keeping.  “Don’t want another incident like in Iceland.” 

He pulled a bundle out of the safe – one that Ron had never seen before, it looked like an old backpack.  He opened it and grabbed something out of it. 

Ron gasped.  “Harry is that a gun?  Where in Merlin’s name did you get one of those?  And why?” 

“It’s mine,” Harry said possessively. 

“Yes, I got that, why don’t you hand that over to me,” Ron said, as gently as he could. 

“It was a present.” 

“Alright, great, but Harry, is it loaded?”

Harry shrugged, “I dunno.  Probably.  It would be like John to give me a loaded gun.” 

Harry placed the gun down on the table and started rummaging through the bag.  Ron took this opportunity to send a quick Patronus to his wife.  He had a feeling he was going to need backup.  While his Jack Russell Terrier ran off, he gingerly removed the gun from the table.  He had only handled a gun a couple of times in his life – they were a bit of a taboo in the wizarding world, plus any wizard worth his salt could ward against them, so they weren’t particularly useful as weapons.   

When Ron was examining the gun, he noticed the initials engraved in the silver handle.  “Who is H.W.?” He asked, not expecting an answer out of Harry.

“Henry Winchester,” Harry responded, distracted and pulling a couple of books out of the bag while he reached towards the bottom.

“Ok – who is that?  I thought you just said someone named John gave you this?”

“It’s…”

Hermione burst into the room, panting a bit. 

“I’m here… what’s going on?  Is Harry ok?”

Both men looked at her, a little surprised. 

“That was quick – where are the kids?” Ron asked. 

Hermione waved him off, “I left them at your mother’s, I had a feeling… Ronald, is that a gun?”  

“Yeah – Harry said some bloke named John gave it to him.”

Hermione turned to her best friend.  “Why do you have a gun, Harry?” 

Harry sighed dramatically.  “Catch ‘er up,” he said, sitting in his desk chair, clearly exhausted. 

Hermione looked at Ron expectantly.  

“Er – Harry said that Americans hate him and that he’s not safe there?  Then we came in here and he showed me this gun that he says belongs to him but has the initials H.W. on it.”

Harry nodded in agreement with all that Ron had just said.  “John gave it to me for my birthday,” he explained.  “That was before he realized I’mma freak.”

“Harry!  You’re not a freak.  And you’re not making any sense.  Maybe you should just go to bed, and we can talk about this in the morning.”

“But Hermione, he hasn’t… oh right, yes, let’s get you to bed Harry.”

There was a special bedroom at Grimmauld Place set up for nights like this, separate from the normal bedrooms that all three of them had in the house.  On one of the upper floors, in Regulus’ old room, there were three single beds set up.  Ron and Hermione would put Harry in the middle one and they would sleep on either side, so that if he got up in the middle of the night, one of them could take care of him.  It was very reminiscent of the close quarters they had kept during the war.  Exhausted from an emotionally charged day, all three of them went to sleep.

The next morning, Harry awoke with a groan.  His head was killing him and his stomach felt… actually, it was better that he didn’t think about how his stomach felt.  He was beginning to feel his age – in his earlier twenties he would have woken up feeling just as clear-headed as if he hadn’t had a night out, but something happened at 25 – oh, no.  He ran to the bathroom to throw up. 

As he exited, Ron was in the hallway, waiting for him.  “Rough night, eh?” he asked, far more cheerfully than Harry thought necessary.

“As if you didn’t know,” Harry grumbled. 

“Well, M has prepared a full breakfast, and Hermione’s downstairs laying it out.”

Harry felt his face get a little greener.  “Molly’s not here, is she?”

Ron laughed.  “No, I wouldn’t dream of it – she does not need to see you in this state.  Hermione went over to check up on the kids – who I’m beginning to believe prefer the Burrow, and Mum sent it over.  Also, her hangover cure.”

Harry groaned.  “I don’t know what’s worse – the hangover or your mother’s cure for it.” 

“That’s exactly the point, you know.  She thinks it’s proper punishment for drinking too much.  I don’t envy you.”

The two of them headed downstairs and ate the enormous breakfast that Molly had sent over.  Hermione and Ron kept the conversation light and worry-free until after Harry had taken the cure (which required a full stomach to be effective). 

Then Ginny arrived.

“Gin!” he exclaimed, giving her a quick kiss.  “I thought you were off at training?”  

“I was – I am, but Hermione sent me an owl.  I believe we all need to have a little chat,” she said seriously. 

Harry looked around at his friends, wary.  “What did I say last night?”

“Not enough,” replied Ron.  “Let’s go into the study where we can… talk.”

Harry honestly didn’t remember a thing that had happened – including how he got back to Grimmauld Place, he must have blacked out.  He hoped this wasn’t another intervention; those were always painful. 

When they got into the study, Harry saw his backpack on the desk.  He went white.  “Who took this out?” he demanded, turning to Ron and Hermione.  He also pulled out his wand.  “You had no right.” 

“Steady there Harry, we didn’t take that out, you did.  Why don’t you put your wand down and maybe you can explain why you have a Muggle gun from someone I’ve never once heard you mention,” Ron responded. 

Harry looked wildly around, thinking of trying to get out of there.  This was not something he wanted to discuss.  Ever.  With anyone.  This was his deepest, darkest secret.  He was beginning to have a panic attack, the room spinning slightly around him, his magic butting at him from under his skin and it felt like every nerve was tingling. 

“Harry,” Ginny said gently, swimming into his line of sight.  “Why don’t you have a seat and take a couple of deep breaths.”  She maneuvered him into a chair.  When Hermione had sent for her this morning, she thought it might have been Harry not handling Teddy going off to Hogwarts very well, but clearly, there was something more going on.  “Ok, Harry.  Remember what the mind healer said – think of five things you can see, four things you can hear, three things you can feel, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.  Deep breaths.”  She guided him carefully through the meditation and he could feel his mind clearing a bit. 

The two of them had seen mind healers both together and separately, and this was one exercise that one of them had given Ginny to help Harry through panic attacks. 

Harry didn’t have panic attacks often, but when he did, they were bad.  Aurors who worked under him would claim that Harry was steadier and more cool-headed in a crisis than anyone else.  But, when he did break down, it was epic, and always in the safe confines of his own house (or mind healer’s office.)  

Hermione offered him a calming draught. 

He shook his head.  “No, I’m alright now.  Thanks.”  He took a couple more deep breaths.  “I suppose I’ve gone so long without talking about it, I never thought it would come up ever again.” 

His friends let him sit in silence to gather his thoughts.  He had been doing a lot of work with a mind-healer recently (not about this, of course) but maybe it would help if he spoke it aloud.  Even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. 

“Do you all remember the summer between fourth and fifth year?”

There were nods. 

“And how I was put on trial for having an illegal portkey?”

Again, more silent acknowledgment, but they let him continue.  

“Well, it wasn’t a domestic one to get away from Dementors, although there was an encounter at the time.  I spent most of that summer in the States.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Ron asked.  Hermione glared at him. 

“Do you remember my neighbor that you talked to – the one going to Ilvermorny?”

“The American, right?  I did think it was odd that the Dursley’s were letting you spend so much time with him.  I wrote him a letter, but he never replied,” Hermione said.  “I just figured he got busy with school and forgot.  What was his name again?  Samuel?”

“Sam, yes,” Harry said.  “Well, he wasn’t – isn’t a wizard and he did not attend Ilvermorny.”

“Harry, that was dangerous, you let me talk to a Muggle at length about Hogwarts!”  Hermione was always concerned with following rules and she was mortified that she broke the International Statute of Secrecy. 

Harry sighed.  “Don’t worry Hermione, you didn’t break any laws.  He isn’t a wizard - he is my brother.”

Dead silence.  Ron was afraid that Harry had had a complete mental break. 

“Harry … you don’t have a brother, not a blood one at least.” 

Harry looked at him.  “I do.  Two actually.  This brings us to that gun and H.W.  H.W. is me.  It was me, at least.  I was born an American.  My parents were Muggles.  My birth name is Henry Winchester and my father, John, gave me that gun for my 15^th birthday.” 

An explosion of questions followed. 

“How is this possible?  It’s not, is it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Harry let them get it all out.  All three looked at him, demanding answers.  He got up from the chair and went back to the backpack on the desk.  He pulled out two official-looking documents – both blue with the seal of the United States on the front and handed them to Hermione.  It was pretty clear that Ron and Hermione weren’t sure they believed him.  Ginny knew he wouldn’t joke or mess around with something like this. 

“Harry, these are American passports,” Hermione said dumbly.  “Muggle ones.  And this second one – it’s up-to-date.  You got this only five years ago.”

Harry nodded.  “Yeah, the first one was only good for five years.  To keep some finances up-to-date, I finally had to get it renewed.  I thought about letting it go – but…”

Hermione sat down hard in a chair.  “You know what this means, right Harry?  It means that you shouldn’t even be allowed to be Head Auror – you have to be a natural-born British citizen to be in your position.” 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh.  Not that any of this was particularly funny, but Hermione was just so damn predictable – she went directly to the potential consequences of this information, instead of thinking about what it meant to him.

“I assure you it is all perfectly above board. I was legally adopted – both the Muggle and the magical way.  As my parents were both British citizens, as am I, even though I was born overseas.  It was through the American Purpura Convention.  So technically speaking, I can still claim my half-blood status.” 

“Harry is this why you’ve always refused to go to the States?  Didn’t you have to return to get this passport?” 

“I did – very briefly though.  Look.  It’s a long story.  Maybe it’s best that you just listen, and I’ll tell you everything.”

And he did.  He told them everything he could remember.  About the convention and the plane trip.  Meeting Dean for the first time – meeting John.  How he and Dean bickered constantly and barely managed to be civil towards one another for the majority of the time.  The strange American wizarding customs – especially with non-practicing wizards.  Sam’s constant curiosity.  Meeting Bobby.  Learning about hunting and training with his brothers – helping with a few salt-and-burns.  And even talking about John, the most painful part of it all.  How he had seemed like he wanted to keep Harry – how Harry had hoped that he loved him, even.  The pressure from Sirius and Dumbledore not to stay.  How he had finally felt at home like he had a family, and ultimately, with the Dementors, how it all came crashing down around him.     

He looked like he wanted to cry towards the end of it all, Hermione and Ginny with him.  Ron looked furious.  But even with the reawakened feelings of rejection, confessing all made him feel lighter, like the burden of the last fourteen years was lifted from his shoulders at last. 

“He told me that if I ever returned that he would hunt me down.  I thought maybe after he had cooled off, he might reach back out again.  But I never heard anything.  Not from him or Sam or Dean.  I figured it was probably for the best.  You all know better than anyone that being related to me is dangerous.  And if anyone were to find out that I had a Muggle family, they would be a target.  Even in the States.  They’re better off without me.  And I’ve been too cowardly to face any of them again.”  Thoughts of self-hatred came roaring into Harry’s mind.  After being rejected by two different blood families, he had always thought that the problem must lie with him.  He waited – wondering if this would be the moment that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny rejected him too. 

“Harry, you’re an idiot.” 

“Ronald!” Hermione snapped.

Harry looked up. 

“I meant it, a complete idiot.  I know, of the Golden Trio, I’m considered the dumbest, but it’s not me.  It’s you.  Harry, the people who have you in their lives are the luckiest people in the world.  And I’m not just talking about what you’ve done for Britain.  You are generous to a fault and more forgiving than any other man I’ve ever met.  Hell, you’ve forgiven Snape.  And Merlin knows why you helped Malfoy after the war.  I know you’d go to any length to protect those of us you love, and we are all better for it.  And I’m willing to bet you my share in the shop that you’ve not one hundred percent stayed away from your family this whole time.”

Harry had the good grace to look ashamed.  Hermione looked like she wanted to kiss her husband. 

“Well, Harry?  Have you had contact?”

Harry shook his head.  “Not directly.”

All three looked at him with pointed stares.  They knew he didn’t like to admit when he had been generous, but they weren’t going to let this pass. 

“I may have found… small ways to help them.  Sam applied and went to college.  Graduated even, with honors.  I may have set up the scholarship that helped him out.  At one point, he wanted to go to law school, and I had it all ready to go – but the funding request never came through.”  Harry was immensely proud of his younger brother.  It wasn’t quite the way he had promised his brother that he would be there for him, but it was the best that Harry could think of, while still maintaining a distance.     

“And Dean and John?”

Harry winced.  “They get along by running credit card scams.  And they still think they do!  But even I know Muggle companies have gotten better at spotting it over the years.  So, it has been arranged for them to … find credit card offers, and even though they think they’re running a scam, I pay all the bills.  I’m told they got suspicious of a card once, so my team makes sure that they stop working every couple of months and they find new offers.” 

Hermione gasped in exasperation.  Of course, Harry Potter was funding American hunters.  That seemed on-brand for his level of trouble.  And here she was thinking that he had gotten reasonable in his advanced age.  “How many people do you have employed to watch out for them?” 

“Er – not many.”

“Harry…”

“Eleven, ok!  It started as three, but really, they travel so much and are tough to keep up with.  I don’t know any details – the project manager just lets me know what resources are needed and I provide them.  And it’s all in different shell companies.  The paper trail would take an expert to track – I think my team has made it near impossible.  I hope they have, at least.  I haven’t seen any of them this whole time – but they’re my family…”

All of this was quite heart-breaking, but it did fill in some gaps on where some of Harry’s insecurities came from. 

“Alright, enough of this emotional crap,” Ron grumbled.  “I think another night out is what we all need.  Although, maybe slow down the drinking a bit Harry.  Ginny – activate the coins.  And Harry, if I ever hear you call yourself a freak again, I’m personally going to organize an event where everyone is invited to come and say nice things about you to your face.  For hours.” 

Harry flushed with embarrassment at the very thought of the threat.  “Alright, alright.  Fine.  Let’s get some drinks.”

III

Naturally, in the coming weeks, Hermione had thrown herself into research.  She wanted to learn everything there was to know about hunters – both American and British, as apparently there were still British hunters, just safely under the control of the government.  While Harry had maintained a full distance from the day-to-day lives of the Winchesters, his team filed regular reports on all of them.  He had just put them aside in a filing cabinet, to which he had given her access.  She poured over those reports as well as government files.  Luckily, she was high enough up on the chain of command that she had full security clearance. 

Additionally, she learned everything she could about the Convention.  How it worked – what it might mean for Harry.  While wizards didn’t have a lot of research or understanding of genetics, Hermione liked to keep current on modern Muggle science, just as light reading before bed.  Somehow, the ceremony performed changed altered a baby’s genetic materials.  Instead of receiving genes from two parents, the child would have the genetic equivalent of four parents.  She frowned slightly when the outdated articles said that the child would only pass on genes from their adopted parents onto their children.  She highly doubted that was the case.

Harry entered her office, interrupting her thoughts.  They had an appointment today, and she wanted to brief him on a few things. 

“Hey Hermione,” he said as he entered the room.  “I had some of the junior Aurors pick up some pastries from your favorite bakery.”

“Harry.  That is hardly an appropriate use of your employees,” she chided. 

“Does this mean you don’t want this pain au chocolate I had them pick up for you?” he teased.

“Absolutely not – hand that over.” 

Harry pushed the bag towards her as he took a seat. 

“Hermione,” he started.  “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think that I should go on this sabbatical.  I talked it over with Ginny and my mind healer and they both agreed that it could bring me some … closure.” 

Hermione nodded.  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Harry.  When I mentioned it to our colleagues that you were considering it seriously for the first time, they were pretty excited.  But, Harry, there is something you should know before you go.”

“What’s that?”

She hesitated for a second.  She wasn’t sure how to tell him this, but it was important.  “Harry – John Winchester died three years ago.” 

Harry’s whole body stilled.  He held his breath.  He felt … hollow.  The man had rejected him, kicked him out, but there had always been some small hope, that maybe - no, he wouldn’t let himself go there.  He pushed the grief of what might have been down.  Maybe this was for the best, he could have a fresh start with his brothers.  If they even wanted that.  Woodenly he asked, “How?”

Hermione shook her head.  “The official medical records state that it was as a result of a car crash.  But it’s strange because while he was admitted to a hospital after the crash, the records first indicated that he had made a complete recovery.  In all likelihood, it was something to do with his profession.” 

Harry nodded.  That seemed about right.  He let out a breath.  “Sam and Dean?”

“As far as I can tell, they are both still alive.  Although they also both have certificates of death to their names – I spoke to your team about details.  It appears that they have continued with the family business.  Together.” 

It shook Harry that his brothers could have died – that his father had died, without him knowing.  It cemented his feeling that now was the time to go back. 

“Harry, are you alright?”

“Yeah.  Just surprised.  When do I start?” 

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy 

Part Three – Chapter Two: Free to Be You, Me, and Harry

Season 5 – Episode 3 (Free to Be You and Me)

Working as a busboy in a random bar in a random town wasn’t the most glamorous job Sam could have picked, but that was exactly the appeal of it.  Parting with Dean had been difficult.  He still fought the urge to call his brother about the little things – but it was for the best that they remain apart. 

It was approaching the end of the night, and Lindsey, the waitress , was finishing serving the last customers.  Most had left – only a few milling about, even though last-round had already been called.  That meant that Sam was free to go to the front of the house and start collecting dirty glasses and plates that had been left over from a few stragglers. 

“Hey, Keith,” Lindsey said to him, pulling him from his work.  “We have one straggler over there at a table – mind helping give him a hint that it’s closing time?  It’s odd, this is a new guy, not one of the regulars.” 

Sam nodded in agreement.  He was slightly wary of any “new guys” in town but thought it was just a random man passing through. 

“Sir, are you done with that?” h e asked as tactfully as he could, indicating to the empty glass the man was staring at. 

The man looked up.  He looked… familiar to Sam, but he couldn’t quite place him.  He had dark, messy hair, and gold-rimmed circular glasses.  His eyes were intensely green and, for some reason, his nose made Sam think of Dean.  The oddest and most eye-catching part of his face was the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.  This put the ex-hunter on even higher alert. 

“Yeah, I’m done,” he said in a British accent.  

Sam went to move the glass and put it in the bin. “Do I know you?”  He asked, “You look familiar.” 

The man looked pleased “Do I?  Guess I just have one of those faces.  Name’s Harry – Harry Potter.”

There was something so familiar about this man.  Not just his looks, but he also gave off the vibe of… danger and power.  Much like his father.  He even looked a bit like a younger John.  But he hadn’t made any threatening moves, so Sam decided to ignore it.  He had a good five inches on the man and certainly more muscle. 

“I guess you must.  Hey , we’re closing up here, so if you don’t mind…”

“Oh, yeah, sure.  Still a bit jet - lagged.”  He stood up to leave.  Sam went to bus a different table and he noticed the man had left a hat on the table.  A black baseball cap that said “Saint Bosco’s” on it.  Odd, that felt familiar to Sam was well, but like something just on the edge of his memory.  He grabbed the hat and tried running after the man, who had just left the bar.  He watched as he turned a corner.

“Hey!” Sam called out as he got closer to the corner, hoping to catch the man’s attention.  When he turned it, the man was nowhere to be seen.  It was as if he had just… vanished.  That got the hairs on Sam’s arms standing on edge.  He might have to leave this town sooner than planned.  Or call Bobby to get someone out here if this man proved to be trouble. 

III

Washing Baby was one of the few simple pleasures that Dean always personally thought of as “me time,” so , even after taking down a vamp, he was sure to give her a good wash at the end of the night, before he even had time to clean himself up. 

It had just turned dark and he was outside his motel room when a man approached him.  The man had been watching him for a couple of minutes, but not all that stealthily.  Dean had known he was there the whole time. 

“Nice car,” the man said, as he approached.  He was of a similar build to Dean – shorter by a couple of inches with wild black hair and a walk that felt … oddly familiar to Dean.  He had a lightning bolt scar in the middle of his forehead.  Dean figured he’d remember if he’d ever seen someone with a scar like that before. 

“Thanks,” Dean said gruffly, hoping to discourage any further conversation. 

“It is a ’67 Chevy Impala?” 

Dean noticed that the man had a British accent.   “Yeah, it is.”  Normally, Dean would be happy to talk about his car at length, but he had had a long day and was tired.  He didn’t need any weirdos making it worse. 

“Sorry to bother , it’s just that my father had one just like it.  Haven’t seen it in 14 years.” 

Dean was overcome by déjà-vu.  Although the man was not even close to as tall, and he was wearing glasses, his facial features made Dean think about his father.  But maybe it was just because the man had just mentioned his own. 

“Look, buddy, I’m flattered, but not interested,” Dean said, guessing at the man’s intentions.   

The man’s eyes widened slightly. “Er – I wasn’t trying to proposition you, I promise.  Just wanted to see your car.  I’ll get going now, have a nice night , Dean.” 

Dean grunted.  It must have been exhaustion, but it took him about five seconds to realize he never told that man his name.  Shit.  He looked up from his car and started looking around – the man was nowhere to be seen.  Unsettled, Dean finished the job and got in the car, and started driving.  He’d keep his eyes out for the man – and be prepared next time. 

III

Harry was confused.  He had arrived in the States a week or so before t he official start-of-duties to try and track down his brothers and … well , he wasn’t sure what he wanted from them, other than to speak to them.  They hadn’t been hard to find – a quick point-me did the trick.  He thought it was odd that Sam was going by a different name and working in a bar when he had a degree from a university.  But what did he know about how Muggle jobs worked in the US?  He had tried to drop hints to both of them.  The hat for Sam – since he had asked so much about Hogwarts, and mentioning the Impala to Dean.  Neither one of them seemed to recognize him beyond Sam saying he looked familiar.  He had been sure to have his scar in full view to both of them, and he had seen them both notice it.  But nothing.  Were they ignoring it on purpose?  Dean had an odd sense of humor, but Harry didn’t think that he would go so far as to suggest that his brother wanted to sleep with him. 

It was all very confusing and Harry didn’t know how to feel. 

He decided, as it was now the next day, that maybe he would try to go see Bobby.  He felt for sure that the man would know what was going on with his brothers and if they were purposefully avoiding him. 

After apparating to the end of the block, and walking up to the junkyard, Harry was struck with a whole host of memories.  It was remarkably unchanged.  He remembered how he and Sam had flown on his broom between the stacks of cars (that had probably been a terrible idea) and the many shouting matches he had had with Dean.  Running laps for drills.  And, of course, that last, terrible day that he’d prefer not to remember at all. 

He knocked on the door. 

“Just a minute!” c ame a familiar voice from inside. 

He waited.  It took about three more minutes when Bobby, looking markedly older, and in a wheelchair, answered the door , a shotgun in hand. 

“What’d you want?” He asked. 

“Mr. Singer, I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Harry – or Henry.”

A flash of recognition crossed his face.  Harry was relieved someone might know who he was and that summer wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.   

Bobby moved back slightly. “Come in.”   He wheeled himself into the kitchen.  Harry closed the door behind them and followed, thinking all of this was strange. 

Once in the kitchen, Bobby shoved a glass of water at Harry.  “Drink this.” 

Harry figured it was holy water.  “Cheers,” he said, as he took a big gulp.  Next, Bobby handed him a silver knife.  Harry only hesitated for a fraction of a second before making a small cut on his arm.   

Bobby nodded his approval. “Alright.  You’re clean.  Have a seat.” 

Harry sat.  “It’s nice to see you . T hank you for letting me in.  I wasn’t sure if you would.  I went to go see Sam and Dean and they acted like they had no idea who I was.  I was beginning to think that I might be crazy.”

“They don’t have any idea who you are.”

“What?  How is that possible ? W e spent a summer together . ”

“I’ve no idea.  To be honest, I don’t have any memories of you either.  Only … well, follow me.” 

Bobby wheeled himself into the living room – which was in far worse shape than Harry remembered it being.  It was chock-full of books and junk.  The older man went up to a stuffed shelf and pulled out a very specific book and handed it to Harry.

Harry didn’t recognize the book, or why it would be significant.  “This is in Japanese . I s it supposed to mean something to me?” 

“Idjit,” Bobby said, “Open the book.”

Harry did.  It was hollowed out.  In the middle were some P olaroids – like the ones Bobby had given him for his birthday.  Of him and his brothers that summer.  Also, some notes.  Harry couldn’t read all of them, but he noticed there was detailed information about his visit and some crammed notes on the side with questions.  There was also a manilla envelope that said, “Confidential: DNA Results.”

“You had my DNA tested?”  Harry asked, incredulous.    

“Wasn’t me , it was probably John.  Got the results after you had left, so I was very confused.  They are positive, you’re a match for John, Dean, and Sam.  I’m a paranoid bastard though, and I know where I kept notes of things, I was afraid I’d forget.  Those are the only reason I knew who you were.  I don’t have a single damn memory of you during that visit.  I remember Sam and Dean and I remember how angry I was at your daddy as he drove off with them.  But you … not a single thing.” 

“Is it hard for you to think about that time?”  Harry asked, somewhat desperately. 

“No, not a bit, remember it clear as day.” 

“No gaps, nothing out of place?”

“Nope , it’s just … blank.”

“The only explanation would be that you were obliviated, but, from your short description, it doesn’t sound like it.  And letting you keep this book , that’s sloppy and not something MACUSA would normally miss.”

“All that I know about you was in that book.  And it was a lot . I was worried that something like this might happen . I must have been to write to myself in that way.  Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they ain’t out to get you.  I assumed you were dead because you never resurfaced.”

Harry had a thought.  “I have one way to tell for sure if you’ve had your memories wiped by a wizard , but I need your permission to perform the spell , ”  h e said cautiously. 

“You’re not some sort of angel, are you?”  Bobby asked suspiciously. 

That earned him an odd look.  “Er , no, I’m a wizard, I thought you knew that.  Do angels even exist?”

Bobby shook his head . “I know you’re a wizard – some sort of natural-born type like Jim.  But yeah, angels exist.  They’re a bunch of douchewads.”

Douchewad was a colorful term that Harry didn’t think he had heard before.  “There is a spell that will allow me to see some of your memories.  If you focus on the right ones, those are the only ones I will see.” 

“And you need my permission?”

“Not technically, the spell can be performed either way, I just find it rude not to ask before entering someone’s head.” 

That made a chill go down Bobby’s not-quite-functioning spine.  His notes said that Harry was powerful as a child – as an adult, it seemed that he was even more so.  Bobby wouldn’t normally be this quick to trust someone, and he didn’t trust this kid.  But he was a Winchester, clearly, and he had trusted him in the past so he would reserve judgement.  For a little while.  

“A polite Winchester, I never thought I’d see the day.  Fine.  But that summer only.  If you try to look at anything else, so help me God, I will shoot you in the face.” 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.  “I’m sure you will.  Alright, I’m going to need you to take three deep breaths and think as clearly as you can about that summer.”

Bobby rolled his eyes at the new-aged breathing crap but did as he was told. 

“ Legilimens ,” he said , pointing his wand at the older man.  Bobby was indeed focusing on that summer and Harry spent some time looking through the layers.  Whoever had done this had been very advanced.  Too advanced, for it to have been a wizard.  A wizard with this much power would be well known.  Harry pulled himself out and thought for a second.

“Well?” Bobby asked after Harry hadn’t said anything. 

“Mr. Singer , can you think of any supernatural creature that could have done this?  I can tell you, it is not the work of a wizard, the quality of the false memories is too good, there are no seams that indicate false thoughts.  It was masterfully done .  I don’t know anyone who could do this.” 

Bobby did, but he wasn’t going to share more information than was strictly needed.  There was a prolonged, awkward silence where both men sat and thought. 

A man in a tan trench coat appeared in the room suddenly, as if he heard Bobby thinking about him.  Which, Bobby supposed, he might have been able to do.  He was only slightly taller than Harry and had dark hair and a somewhat blank expression.  He also had the faint outline of wings and a white glow around him.

“Bobby , where is Dean, I need … Y ou .” The last word was spat as the man turned to look at Harry. 

Harry pointed to himself, “Me?  I’m pretty sure we’ve never met . I recall all my meetings with winged men surrounded by white light.  Which, to this day, is one.” 

“You are one of them , ”  h e said, glaring daggers. 

“One of who?” Harry asked , wand still out. 

“A wizard .  Bobby, did you know that ’s what this man is?  Why is he in your home?” 

Bobby looked just as surprised as Harry.  “I did know he was a wizard – a natural one though, not like those witches we hunt.”

“There is nothing natural about them , but no, this is no demon worshipper.”

“Look, mate, I don’t know what your problem is, but I can leave.”  This was all hitting a little too close to home for Harry. 

“No,” said Bobby.  “Castiel, this is Harry . Harry, this is Castiel.  Remember when I said angels were douchewads?  Cas is usually the exception to that.” 

“Thanks Bobby,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t call that a compliment , Cas.  But , maybe, while you’re here, you could make yourself useful.  Seems my memory was wiped about fourteen years ago – Sam and Dean’s too.  All of us were made to forget this man here – seems like the work of angels to me.  Harry doesn’t think it was wizards.” 

“Let me see,” Cas pressed his finger on Bobby’s forehead and, all of a sudden, the wheel-chair bound man remembered everything.  It was in an instant and it was extremely overwhelming.

“Urg!” He cried out. 

“Bobby , are you ok?” Harry asked, once again pointing his wand at the … angel, he supposed, in the room.

“Don’t threaten me.  But I see  you are Henry Winchester.  You’re a lot shorter than your brothers.  I don’t have time for this.  Bobby, I need to know where Dean is.” 

Bobby seemed to have recovered, but he saw Harry in a completely different light.  “Greeley, Pennsylvania.  Econo Lodge .” 

Cas left. 

Harry sat down hard on the couch.  “Bobby - is it alright if I call you Bobby?  This may be inappropriate, but you don’t happen to have any whiskey, do you?” 

“Course I do.  And yeah, it’s what you called me when you lived here.”  He wheeled over a bit and pulled a flask out of seemingly nowhere and handed it over to Harry.  Harry took a long sip.  It helped , but this M uggle stuff wasn’t quite as strong as he would like it to be.  Bobby reached for the flask and took a long drink himself. 

“So, you remember now?”  Harry asked. 

“Yeah.  All of it.  Must’ve been an angel, but I don’t know why.  I honestly thought I’d never see you again.  That night you left – I thought John had sent you off to die.”

Harry laughed a hollow laugh.  “In a way he did.  I died about three years later.  Sort of.  I got better.”  He wasn’t so sure if it was so much, “got better” as much as “chose life,” but that seemed a little complicated to get into.

“You , too?  If there was ever doubt you were a Winchester, there certainly isn’t one now.  You boys are awful fond of dying.  Well, that and you look like John.  More so than Dean or Sam.”

“Yeah, my friend Hermione mentioned that they had several death certificates on file.  I would be worried, but I saw both of them yesterday.”

That reminded Bobby of something.  He passed the flask back to Harry before saying.  “I’m afraid to be the one who has to tell you this, but you should know.  John died a couple of years back.” 

“I know.”  He responded, gratefully taking back the flask.  “Hermione told me that too.  I just found out.” 

“Is that why you came back?” 

“Erm , no.  Officially, I’m here for work.  Unofficially , I felt it was time.” 

“What do … wizards … do for work?”  Jim had told him some about the wizarding world, and those memories were beginning to resurface along with the rest. 

“I’m Head of the Auror Department.  Much like your FBI.  Or MI-5.” 

“You a fed?”  Bobby asked, not quite believing it.  There was a special sort of irony that Sam and Dean spent most of their time pretending to be what their brother was. 

“I suppose.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be head of a department?  You can’t be more than thirty.” 

“Just turned 29 last month.  Being a war hero kind of puts you on the fast track, as it turns out.”  Harry put the words “war hero” in air quotes and finished the flask of whiskey.  “Hey , Bobby, you got any more?  I can replace it, I swear.”

“I have some beer in the fridge.  I can go…”

“No need.  Accio Beer .” 

Bobby could hear the fridge open and two bottles of beer came soaring into the room and into Harry’s hands.  He passed one to Bobby and started opening his own.  “Well, that’s a neat trick.”

“Isn’t it , though.” 

Both men drank. 

“Won’t you get in trouble for doing magic in front of me?”  Bobby asked, remembering what Jim had told him about what happened in the motel room and their run-in with wizarding police. 

Harry shrugged.  “I could, I suppose.  But MACUSA knows I’m here, in America, and if I were anyone else…” he blushed a little.  “Let’s just say that, although I try not to act like it, I’m a bit above the law in most of the wizarding world.  Although I am banned in several southeast Asian countries – I doubt that will stick.” 

“Right.  War hero, you said.  You want to fill me in?  It seems we have a lot of catching up to do.  Also, you got a place to stay?  You can always take the boys’ room while you’re here if you’d like.”  While Harry certainly looked better fed than he had the last time he had visited, Bobby still felt the overwhelming need to protect the young boy that had spent the summer with him so long ago.

“I do – a flat in New York is set up for me.  But if I get too drunk to apparate, I might take you up on that offer.”

Harry gave him the Reader’s Digest version of events.  About returning to England, Sirius dying and the war that had consumed the rest of his teenage years. 

At the end of it, Bobby shook his head.  “This is exactly what John wanted to stop from happening.  We had a plan, you see, to convince you to stay, to keep you safe.”

“It never would have worked.  Dumbledore wouldn’t have allowed it.  But John changed his mind about me anyway.” 

Bobby shook his head.  “He wasn’t right, your daddy, that night.  I suspect that he was possessed.” 

Harry was surprised.  “By a demon?  How?”

“Not a demon.  An angel.  Angels need meat suits, just like demons.  Only, they have to get your permission.  It’s clear that angels, or at least one angel, ain’t particularly fond of you.”

“I don’t understand that.  I’d never even heard of angels until today.”  It hurt so much to even consider, but Harry had drunk enough liquid courage to ask, “You really think he still wanted me?”  

The vulnerability in that question damn near broke Bobby’s heart.  

“Look at me when I say this boy,” Bobby said to Harry, “your father and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, and I didn’t agree with the way he raised his boys, but he was, in the end, a good man.  A stubborn ass of a man, but good none-the-less.  Family was everything to him.  He’d of done anything for his boys, and that included you.  He wasn’t in his right mind that night, that I know, and hopefully, Cas can help us get to the bottom of it all, but he wanted you.  Had all sorts of plans to make it work – you say they wouldn’t have allowed you to stay, but they would’ve had to fight a war with your daddy to get you back.  And I’m not so confident they would have won.” 

That made a knot form in Harry’s throat.  Merlin, it had been an emotional couple of weeks.  “Thanks Bobby,” he managed to get out.  “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll go back to New York tonight.  But… could I stop by tomorrow?  We could talk about what Sam and Dean have been doing all this time.”  

“Yeah, that’d be fine.  We’re going to need more alcohol though.” 

Harry laughed.  “Roger that.  Have a nice evening , Bobby, and, I meant it, thank you.” 

“Didn’t do nothin’, but you’re welcome.”

Harry apparated away, leaving Bobby to sit and grieve for a moment.  Harry had only been with him for a short period of time, but he had loved him, and the fact that he had failed to protect a child under his care hurt.  He also needed time to think through all these newly-found memories.  He didn’t want to waste his time mourning what could have been, he wanted to think forward.  And maybe Harry would be the key to saving Sam and Dean.

III

The flat that had been provided to him by MACUSA was pretty nice – the wards were set up so that he could directly apparate in, avoiding having to see anyone else in the building.  It was in a hidden, wizard building with great views of Central Park.  And, seeing as Harry was, well, Harry, he had been given the penthouse.  It even included a house-elf named Kiwi. 

She greeted him when he arrived.  “Welcome back , Head Auror Potter,” she said, in a high, squeaky voice.  American house-elves seemed far less annoying than British ones, generally speaking.  Although, Harry also wondered if the ones that he had spent time with were just particularly crazy. 

“Thanks, Kiwi.”

“Anything Kiwi can get for you?”

Harry thought a second.  “Dinner would be nice.  And firewhiskey.  Do you have firewhiskey here?”

“Of course.  What would you like for dinner?” 

Harry thought back to his last trip to the US.  He remembered Sam telling him the best pizza was in New York.  “Pizza?”

Kiwi nodded and popped off.  Harry grabbed a beer out of the fridge. 

“ Accio Mirror .”  He called out as he sat down in a plush leather chair.  He debated about who to call.  Ginny would be best, but he knew how busy she had been at training camp.  Hermione it was – she was far more likely than Ron to have her mirror on her and she could always call him into the room.

“Hermione Granger-Weasley.” He spoke. 

“Harry!” s he answered.  “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.  Is everything alright?  Did you find your brothers?”

“I did find them . Hermione, someone wiped their minds.  They don’t remember me.”

There were very few things in the world that made Hermione quiet, and this was one.  For a moment, at least. 

“How is that possible?  Was it wizards?  On whose authority?  I’m sure I can get records from MACUSA, and we can put this right, Harry.” 

“Slow down, Hermione.  We think we know who did it and it wasn’t MACUSA.  This is going to sound crazy.  It was angels.”

“Angels.”  She replied flatly.

“Yeah.”

“Harry, maybe this trip to the US wasn’t such a good idea.  There are no such things as angels.” 

“You know, earlier today I said the same thing.  Then I saw one.  It had wings.  And a white glow and it gave Bobby back his memories.”

“Alright.  Presuming there are angels, why would they want to erase your brother s’ memories?” 

“I have no idea.  The one I talked with – Castiel – didn’t seem too enamored with wizards.  Hermione, there is more.”

“More than wizard-hating angels?”

“Yeah . Bobby, the man I stayed with that summer, thinks that my dad was possessed by an angel when he threw me out.  He said that John wanted me to stay.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“I guess … I guess I don’t know what to do with that information.  I was so angry for so long.  And hurt.  But now … I’m angry again.  Angels took my family away from me.  I know that I couldn’t have stayed that summer, the war was too important.  But after, maybe I could have come back.  And if I had , maybe I could have saved him.” 

That was the terrible truth.  If Harry hadn’t been so stubborn, if he hadn’t been too proud, maybe, just maybe, he could have helped and his father would still be alive today.  

“Harry , it’s not your fault.  You can’t make yourself responsible for every death that you weren’t there for.  Maybe there was something you could have done, but likely, there wasn’t.  And you might have been in danger.  Do you have any more information on angels that I could use for research?”

Harry shook his head.  “That’s all I know.  This might be a good one to talk to Luna about . I f anyone would have heard of these things it would be her.  Or Rolf, for that matter.” 

“I agree.  Harry , do you need Ron or me to come to America and help?  I might be able to take a leave of absence.  I’m sure we could hire someone to help George out for a bit.”

It was moments like this that Harry realized that he already had a family if the current one didn’t happen to work out. 

“No, thank you, Hermione.  I know if I needed you, you’d be here.  I think I need to do this on my own.”

“Alright, Harry.  I don’t understand, but, you be sure to call the second you need us for anything at all.”

“Thanks Hermione.”  Kiwi popped back into the room with the pizza.  “My dinner has just arrived. I’m going to eat something and then try to sleep off some jet-lag.” 

“Ok.  I’ll fill Ron and Ginny in.  Anyone else you want to know?” 

She was really asking who she shouldn’t tell about Harry’s adventures in America.  “Bring Luna in , but try to keep it quiet otherwise.  I don’t want to worry Molly.”  If too many Weasleys were involved, Molly would find out.  In every way that counted, Molly was a mother to Harry and he would go to extraordinary lengths to keep any further tragedy or worry out of her life.

“Understood.  Goodnight Harry.”

“Night.”

She left the mirror.  Harry went over to the pizza.  It was huge.  Also, Kiwi had brought back about twenty different bottles of firewhiskey. 

“That is a lot of firewhiskey , Kiwi!”  He remarked. 

“Kiwi wasn’t sure what kind Head Auror Potter would prefer.”

“This is perfect, thanks , Kiwi, I’ll enjoy trying them all . I didn’t know that the Japanese made one.  And , Kiwi, since we’ll be together for a bit, you are welcome to call me Harry.  I’d prefer it.  Head Auror Potter is a bit of a mouthful.” 

Kiwi nodded.  “Harry Potter is too kind.  Kiwi had heard that he was kind to house-elves.” 

“Well a house-elf once saved my life – and he was a very dear friend.  I still miss him.”  He paused for a second, mentally thanking Dobby, as he tried to do anytime the subject came up.  “Kiwi, would you like to join me for dinner?  This pizza is huge – and I’d love to have someone to share it with.”

Kiwi looked like she would cry. 

“Plus, I have so much to learn about American wizarding culture.  You could help me learn some useful tips for my job.”

“Kiwi would be honored, Harry Potter.” 

“Great, let’s tuck in!”

The pizza was amazing.  And she was a wealth of knowledge.  And it helped distract Harry from the mess that he was about to face with his brothers. 

III

Harry returned to Bobby’s the next day – this time with a pack of beer , some firewhiskey and a couple of books so that he wouldn’t have to answer any more questions about his past.  The firewhiskey was mostly for himself.  He had a feeling that to get through today, he was going to need it – he was already a couple of drinks in when he arrived.  He knocked on the door. 

Bobby opened it after a couple of moments.  “Thought it might be you.  Come in.” 

Harry followed him into the living room.  There was an awkward pause. 

“That was quite the summer wasnnit?” Bobby asked. 

“It was…”  Harry looked like he was deciding something.  “Bobby , how did John die?”  Cutting to the chase.  He felt like if he didn’t ask now, he would never be able to work up the courage. 

Bobby grunted.  “He sold his soul.  To save Dean.”

Harry processed that.  “Why did Dean need saving?”

“Car wreck.” 

“Going through the records in the last couple of weeks, I did see a big hospital bill from the time that John died . Y our American system is terrible.  I didn’t ask for details when I approved it , though.  Maybe, if I had…” 

“You got the hospital bill?  How is that possible?” 

Harry shrugged.  “I sold John the insurance policy.  Well, not me specifically, my people did.” 

“Your people.” 

Harry waved his hand.  “Don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have said anything.  Well, I brought over some firewhiskey, and I know it’s early in the day, but I feel like I need it already.  Would you like some?”

“I never turn down whiskey.”

Harry conjured two shot glasses and poured himself one.  He poured Bobby about a quarter of a shot. 

“Come on boy, I’m a full-grown man, I can handle more than that.”

Harry chuckled.  “This is goblin - made.  Why don’t you go ahead and try it before you decide how much you can handle?”  Harry took his shot, so Bobby wouldn’t think it was poisoned, or something.  Bobby followed suit.

“Woah.” 

“More?”

“Yeah.”

Harry poured again.  “To John,” he said and raised his glass. 

“To your dad.”

They both drank again. 

“Alright, now this feels better.  How are Sam and Dean?  Losing a parent … W ell, we all know something about it now , I guess.  My godfather, Sirius, died the year after that summer.  For me.” 

“There’s just something in the Winchester blood ain’t there?” Bobby asked.  “Dean … Dean’s been to H ell and back.  Sam’s not had an easy go of it either.  But they got the demon.  The one that killed John and Mary.”

“He’s dead?”

“Yup.”

“Good.” 

Bobby’s phone rang and he answered it, “Sam?”

Harry could faintly hear someone talking on the other end.

“Well I ain't running any marathons, but I'll live.”

The conversation continued a bit.  Clearly, there was something that Sam was asking for Bobby’s help with.

“There a reason you're calling?” Bobby asked.  And then, “He told me.”

More talking. 

“Okay, let me see if I can think of the best hunter who might be in the immediate vicinity—oh, that'd be you.”

“Sam—”

“Hold on, Sam—”

Bobby hung up the phone and threw it.  “Let me tell you something, that younger brother of yours is just as much of a stubborn ass as your daddy was. Give me a moment.”

Bobby then called someone else, explaining where Sam was, and that there was some activity.  It seemed that his younger brother had given up hunting. 

Harry listened to it all.  It sounded like a lot of work – it also seemed exciting.  His job hadn’t been exciting since he got promoted after the last Death Eater had been captured and put on trial.  Since then, he had practically been benched.  He hated it, he wanted to be out there saving people again.  But his fame often got in the way, which he understood, but was unbelievably frustrated by. 

“I understand that the two of them were hunting together for a while – what happened?”

Bobby gave him a look.  “You have been keeping tabs, haven’t you?”

“Again, not directly.  I thought they didn’t want anything to do with me.  But other than the Dursleys , who hardly count, they’re the only blood family I have left.  I tried to do what I could… from afar.  I don’t know about the day-to-day but I get a quarterly spending report and I get notified of any very large expenditures as well.  But, don’t worry , it would take some serious hacking for anyone to trace it back to me.  The world does not need to know that Harry Potter has a M uggle family he cares about.” 

“Quarterly reports?  How much do you exactly pay for, other than insurance?”

Harry was embarrassed, he didn’t want to talk about this at all.  “You know, credit card fraud is illegal.  This way, everything is above board, whether they know it or not, and they don’t run into trouble with the M uggle police.  There have been a couple of cases where my team wasn’t able to interfere, but overall, they do a good job.  Also, the tickets – the project manager had to create a whole new “Impala Division” just so they could keep driving.  But it’s nothing, it is the very bare minimum.  I’m here for work for at least six months.  I’d like to be more hands-on.  What can I do to help?”

Bobby snorted and filed away some of that information for later.  “I always wondered how they were able to get away with it all, but never asked many questions.  I figured that Dean was just really good at hustling at poker…” He saw the look on Harry’s face.  “What, that too?”

The guilty expression on Harry’s face was enough to give it away.  “He’s – he’s just not that good at poker.  Or pool.  Merlin bless him, he tries.  Sam is much better, but he doesn’t seem to partake quite so much.”

Bobby let out what he felt was the biggest laugh he’d had in ages.  “Oh boy, when he finds out.”

“Hopefully that will be never.  He doesn’t need to know.”

“He doesn’t, but if you want a friend for life, you’ll tell Sam and let him hang that over him.” 

Harry noticed that Bobby had still not told him much of what his brothers had been up to.  He didn’t think that was an accident. 

“You’re not going to tell me anything about them, are you?”  Harry asked. 

“A polite and a smart Winchester, you really are a treat.  It’s not my story to tell.” 

“Alright.  Then some advice , maybe?  Since they are not together, which should I start with?  Do you think that angel – Castiel – will help?”

Bobby snorted.  “Cas helps when he feels like it and only then.  You’re more likely to find him with Dean than Sam, for doin’ that memory trick he did on me.  But Sam is less likely to shoot you on sight, so… take your pick.” 

“Sam and I did get on better than Dean and I did.”

Bobby laughed again.  “Your daddy was about to murder you both if you didn’t stop your bickering.  All day, every day.  I understand now though, why that was.”

“And why’s that?  Teenage hormones?”

“No, it’s because you’re the same damn person.  Sam is more like your dad, but you and Dean are cut from the same cloth.  And you’re both insufferable.”

Although that was an insult, it made Harry glow a little inside.  It was nice to hear that he was like his older brother. 

“Alright, I’ll start with Sam then.  Any advice?”

“Yeah.  Let me call him first.  No sudden movements – be prepared to show you’re not a demon.  As far as I know, Sam hasn’t come across any natural wizards, and he’s bound to be suspicious.  There are … people looking for both your brothers, they’ve made quite the names for themselves in the hunting world.”

“Great.  I’ll go tomorrow.  How do I get in touch with that angel – Castiel?”

“Prayer.”

Harry laughed but then saw the serious look on Bobby’s face.  “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes.  I’ll also give you his cell number though, just in case.  You should give me yours too.”

Harry blushed slightly.  “I don’t have a cell phone.  I can’t use them – I fry them within a minute.  You remember my bracelet?”

“Yeah.”

“They don’t make ones that work for adult wizards and witches.”  This was a slight lie – they did, but none of them would work on Harry anymore.  They weren’t meant to contain a wizard of his power level.  “But … D o you have a mirror?”

“ There’s one in the hallway…”

“That’ ll do, for now . I’ll make some smaller ones for you later.”  Harry stepped into the hallway and enchanted the mirror.  “Now, if you want to talk to me, just look into the mirror and say, ‘Harry Potter,’ and I’ll answer as quickly as I can.” 

“What, no ‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall’ ?”

Harry didn’t get the reference.  “I can change it to that…”

“No, I was just… never mind.  I’ll call if I need you.”

“Thanks, Bobby.  I’ll be in touch.”  He got up to leave.

“Hey, Harry?” Bobby called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Leave the whiskey.”

Harry laughed.  “Sure – but go easy on it, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He left.

III

“Sam,” Bobby greeted when the aforementioned man answered the phone. 

“Bobby.  Is everything alright?”

“Yeah – I just wanted to give you the heads - up that someone is coming to see you tomorrow.  I’ve sent him, so he’s safe, and I trust him.”

“Who is it?”

“He’ll tell you all about himself, I’m sure.  Just … be nice, he’s been through a lot.”

“Is this another hunter Bobby, you know I’m out.”

“I know, you idjit.  He’s … not a hunter, but he’s related to several.” 

“What does he want with me?”

“You know, I’m not quite sure.  But I think he’ll be an asset.  Sam, what he is going to tell you is going to seem unbelievable.  But he’s telling the truth.  I’ve told him to call Cas to confirm it.”

“What does Cas have to…”

Bobby had hung up.  Sam wasn’t sure if he should try to leave town immediately, or wait for this mysterious man to appear.  He was wary, but if Bobby trusted him … W ell , Bobby didn’t trust a whole lot of people.  Before today, he would have guessed that the list was exactly two.  And maybe Rufus as well.  He’d just have to wait and see.  And make sure to have a gun on him.

III

Harry was extremely nervous.  More nervous than he had been when he had just stopped by the bar a couple of nights ago.   More nervous than he had been entering that motel fourteen years ago.  To make this as easy as possible, he dressed in the AC/DC shirt and the green jacket Dean had given him for his birthday.  Both, resized.  (Although the AC/DC shirt had been Sirius’ – so maybe it was just back to the size it had been when his godfather had first worn it.)  Harry hadn’t worn either since that summer.  He also went casual with some jeans. 

It was later in the evening, close to, if not already , closing time.  Harry didn’t want to show up at the motel Sam was staying at, that seemed intrusive, but he also didn’t want others overhearing them. 

He quietly opened the door (it had been locked , but that was easy enough for him to fix).  What he saw when he entered the bar was not what he had been expecting.  There were two men in there, who looked to be arguing with Sam.  There was a woman, crying, handcuffed to the bar.  One of the men threw Sam onto the pool table and the other restrained him.  It looked like they were trying to pour something down Sam’s throat. 

A surge of protectiveness came over Harry.  “ Expelliarmus !” he shouted, summoning whatever had been in the man’s hand out of it.  “ Stupefy , stupefy ,” came next, stunning both the attackers.  He held his arm out to Sam to help him up.  “Are you alright , Sam?”

Sam didn’t take his arm but instead pointed a gun at him.  “Who are you?  I saw you the other night.  You left your hat and then disappeared.” 

“Woah, Sam, it’s alright . ” Harry put his hands up, although he kept his wand loosely in one.  “I was just trying to help.  Bobby sent me . H e said he’d call first.” 

“How do you know my name?” h e demanded, not lowering the gun. 

“I did just say Bobby sent me, didn’t I?” Sam pointed the gun again, for emphasis.  “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.  Expelliarmus .”  The gun came straight out of Sam’s hands and zoomed into Harry’s.  Harry, in one, quick, effective move, unloaded the bullets from the gun.  Ironically, it was a move Sam had taught him. 

Sam didn’t look like he was going to back down and now had his fists up and looked ready to charge at Harry.  This wasn’t going well. 

“Look, just let me sort out these men, and we’ll talk.” 

Sam charged him.  He moved slightly out of the way, making Sam run into a wall. 

“Bloody hell.  Locomotor Mortis .” 

Sam’s legs locked together and he fell to the ground.  Harry hadn’t wanted to freak out his younger brother too much, so he used the most elementary defense he could think of. 

Harry knew he had to act quickly, looking at the rage in his brother’s eyes.  He walked over to the crying woman at the bar.  “ Alohomora ,” he said, releasing her from the handcuffs.  “Are you alright?” h e asked.  “Did either of those men hurt you?”

She shook her head no . S he looked quite scared of him.  At that moment, a pair of men in full Auror robes came bursting into the room.  They saw Sam on the floor, legs locked, the two stunned men, the woman rubbing her wrists, and Harry. 

“I’m Auror Hamish and this is Auror Jacobson, we have a record of magic being performed in front of No-Majs in this establishment.  Please identify yourself.” 

Harry turned towards them.  “My apologies , gentlemen.  I am Head Auror Potter, and I was just breaking up a bar fight.” 

Both men gaped at him. 

“Potter… as in…”

“Harry, yes, Harry Potter.  Here’s my badge,” he said, flipping it open for them to see. 

“Oh, that’s not needed.  We’re so sorry , Head Auror . W e got the notification that you were in the area, but didn’t expect to find you in a place like this.” 

“No need to apologize.  You’re only doing your job.  I’m afraid I’m here on official business.  Could you please take the two stunned men, and this lovely young lady outside, sort them out, and get them on their way?”

“Of course, sir.  Do you need anything else, sir?  What about the man on the floor?”

“I can handle him, thanks, gentlemen.  Maybe, as a favor to me, leave my name out of the report?” H e asked, flashing his best, ‘I’m famous and you can trust me smile.’  “I’ll clear this incident up with your Head Auror when I report for duty next week.”

“Yes , sir.  We’re very much looking forward to your lectures , sir.” 

“And I’m happy to be here.  Thank you so much – Aurors Hamish and Jacobson, correct?”

“Yes , sir,” they said together. 

“I am in your debt.  Please, proceed.”

They got over their star-struck moment.  One cast a charm to get the unconscious men out of the back door, while the other led the young woman out. 

Harry turned back to his brother, to see Sam crawling on his elbows towards his gun.  He sighed and cast the counter-curse, making Sam’s legs spring apart.  Almost comically. 

“That was rather more dramatic of an entrance than I was going for,” he said, holding his arm out once again, to help his brother up. 

Sam took his arm and, as soon as he stood, he took his left arm and swung for Harry’s head.  Harry saw it coming and dodged.  What he wasn’t prepared for was for the leg swipe that landed the wizard on his butt.  Harry was quick , though , and bounced back up faster than Sam had anticipated.  He quickly put his younger brother in a headlock .  Which was no easy task, considering their massive height difference . H e had to put some magic in behind the hold just to contain the larger man.  It was another move he’d learned from that summer, but that one came from Dean. 

“Sam.  Please, I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.  This is why Bobby called , ”  Harry said, while struggling to hold onto Sam.  

“And what about those men you just killed?  And Lindsey?” 

Harry blinked, and let his younger brother out of the hold.  “I didn’t kill them.  They’re still alive , I just stunned them.  I’m sure that’s all been reversed now and they’re on their merry way, none-the-wiser of what happened here tonight.  Same with the young lady.  Her memory will be wiped – she won’t remember the fight at all.” 

“What are you?”  Sam had, at least, stopped attacking for the moment. 

“I’m a wizard.  Not like what you’re thinking about.  A natural one, no demonic powers here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Bobby said he would call.  Didn’t he call?”

“Yeah, he did.  If that was Bobby at all.” 

“Bloody hunters.  You’re worse than John , you know?  And didn’t think that was possible.  He was a wanker when he wanted to be.”

Sam tensed.  “How did you know my father?”

Harry huffed impatiently.  He didn’t want to get to the headline until he could prove it.  “I just did.  Here,” he said, handing Sam’s gun back to him (still unloaded).  “I’m sure, you have bullets somewhere on you.  Feel free to keep that trained on me while you call Castiel.  He’ll help us sort this all out.  I hope . H e’s not fond of me.  Not sure why.  Look, I’ll even put my wand back in the holster.  Please don’t shoot me.  It won’t kill me but I’m rather ticklish.” 

“Are you a demon?” 

“I thought I just said I wasn’t.  Please, call Castiel.” 

“I don’t have his number.”

“Oh.  I thought you would.  I do, but if I take your phone it’ll explode.  Bobby said something about praying?”

“I’m hidden from angels . E ven if I pray, Castiel won’t be able to find me.” 

“Oh , alright, I guess it’s down to me then.  I’ve never prayed before, so this should be interesting. ‘Dear Castiel, I’m here in Garber, Oklahoma at Steve’s Bar with Sam.  I know I’m not your favorite person, but I would appreciate it if…”

Castiel appeared. 

“ ... y ou could come to help me out.  Thank you, Castiel.” 

The angel ignored him.  “Sam, are you alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good.”  He turned to Harry.  “ You .” 

“Yes, me . W e’ve been over this already, haven’t we?  You have some sort of weird  … prejudice against wizards.  Could you please tell Sam who I am, so that he’ll believe me?  And maybe do that head - pressing thing you did with Bobby.”

“Why should I help you?  Your kind is a scourge on humanity.  You should not exist.  Also, never pray to me again.  I will not come.” 

“Jeez, thanks.  We do though – maybe later you can explain your problem?  My people have no contact with angels, as far as I know.”

“You do not.  It is forbidden.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up, thanks , mate.”

“Cas – what is he?”  Sam asked, finally butting in, finding this whole conversation very confusing. 

“He is a wizard.  Not a demon-worshipper, but what he calls natural .  I don’t agree.” 

“Ok – is he evil?  Should I gank him?” 

“Officially, I cannot advise you to gank him.  But what you do out of your own free will is up to you.” 

“Castiel, maybe tell him who I am, to help with his decision on whether or not to kill me.  Although, again, a gun won’t do the trick , I’m afraid.” 

“Sam.  This is your brother, Henry.  He is not meant to be and yet… here he is.” 

“I’m sorry – what?  Another one?”

“Your brother.  Born between you and Dean.  You share the same parents.”

“Yeah Cas, I know what a brother is.  How is that possible?  Wouldn’t I know if I had another older brother?”

Cas frowned.  “You have met him before.  Your memories were taken.” 

Sam finally lowered the gun.  “Could you give me those memories back?”

“Yes.”

“Will you?”

“Oh, alright . ” Cas repeated what he had done at Bobby’s, pressing two fingers to Sam’s head.  “I must go now.  Do not pray to me again , Henry.  You will not like the consequences.”  He disappeared. 

“Urgh,” Sam doubled over in pain.  Harry ran over to him and helped guide him to a chair.  It was really unfair the height advantage his younger brother had on him. 

“Harry?” he asked, looking up after a moment. 

Harry smiled sheepishly.  “Hiya Sammy . I t’s good to see you again.” 

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Three: Chapter Three – Fortunate Son

Season 5 – Episodes 4 and 7 (The End and The Curious Case of Dean Winchester)

It had been a weird couple of days for Sam.  Well, for Sam pretending to be Keith.  For everyday Sam,– it was still pretty mild.  Dreams of Jess, apocalypse omens, an oddly familiar, disappearing man, a couple of disconcerting phone calls with Bobby and, of course, his encounter with Reggie, Tim, and Steve. 

It wasn’t until the man had returned and had taken down the two hunters with ease, hell, taken him down with ease with magic Sam had never seen before.  Honestly, Sam was expecting to hear that the man had been sent to bring him to Lucifer. 

But then Cas had come and it turned out – it was Harry.  Harry, the older brother he had completely forgotten about.  Sam had convinced himself that summer that if they couldn’t get Harry to stay, he would find a way to follow his brother to Hogwarts.  Maybe ask out his friend, Hermione, who he had had a huge crush on.  He thought that he had finally found a family member that understood him – that cared about him for who he was.  And then… that night. 

Sam just kind of stared at Harry for a couple of minutes.  He could see the kid that became the man – and he looked so much like John.  More than Sam or Dean did. 

“Sam… you ok in there, buddy?” Harry asked, after a couple of minutes of silence. 

Sam shook his head to clear it.  “Yeah – yeah, I am.  I just – I never thought I’d see you again.  You know, before my memory was wiped.”  He wanted to hug him but held himself short. 

“Yeah, me neither.  Look, – do you mind if I take you some place that’s a little safer to talk, so we can catch up?” 

“Uh, sure.”

Sam hadn’t had a lot of time to think about where exactly they would go, but, before he knew it, Harry’s hand was on his shoulder and it felt like the life was squeezing out of him just enough until – he landed with a thunk. 

He gasped for air.  “Dude – what the fuck was that?”

Harry winced.  “Sorry, I know it’s unpleasant, especially the first time.  You’ll get used to it.”

“I think I’d prefer not to, thanks.”  Sam took a second to take in his surroundings.  It was still dark out but this was a very swanky apartment.  There were floor to ceiling windows with sweeping views of… “Are we in New York?”  Sam asked. 

“Err, yeah.  This is my flat.  Well, for the time being, I usually live in London.  But MACUSA set me up here.  I’m quite fond and might buy it from them if they’ll let me…”  Harry knew he was rambling.  He often did when he was nervous. 

“MACUSA.  The Wizarding government of the US?”  Sam asked, surprising himself with that knowledge. 

“Yep, that’s the one.  I’m on sabbatical – working for them for at least the next six months.  I could extend longer if I wanted, but we’ll see.  How about a tour and then we can sit and talk?” 

Sam was still a bit dazed – and wary - but he nodded in agreement.  All of this was just… a lot.  He hadn’t had a chance to get his head straight. 

“So, this is the living area,” Harry said pointing to the room they were in.  Along with the sweeping views of the city, there was also a fireplace.  No TV though.  “Over there is the kitchen – feel free to grab anything you want out of there,” he said, this time indicating to the large chef’s kitchen that was the fanciest Sam had ever seen.  “That’s the dining room,” he said, turning towards a large glass table with a huge chandelier hovering over it.  (Literally hovering – no wires as far as Sam could tell.)  “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you upstairs to the bedrooms.”

The two of them went upstairs.  There was a long corridor with many doors.  Sam noticed that on many of the doors there were letters on the front.

“This bedroom is mine,” there was an H&G on that door.  “Next to it, one for my best friends, Ron and Hermione.  Do you remember them?”  He asked. 

“I remember Hermione – pretty girl, likes books?”  Sam asked. 

Harry laughed.  “That about covers it, yeah.  Smartest witch I know.  She is married to Ron now, so that’s their room, and attached is a nursery for their kids, should they ever come to visit.  Little Rosie and Hugo.  On this side, there is a bedroom for my godson, Teddy,” indeed, a door with the letter “T” on it.  “And a guest room next to it – I’m thinking if any of my other friends want to visit, or for Teddy’s grandmother.”  They walked a little further down the hallway and came to a door with an “S” on it.  Harry seemed a bit embarrassed.  “Uh – this is your room if you’d like to see it.  You don’t have to stay, of course, it’s just here, in case…”

“For me?” Sam asked.  He was stunned.  He didn’t think he had ever had his own, designated room before.  At least, not that he remembered. 

“Yeah,” Harry opened the door.  Inside, there was a large, four-poster, king-sized bed covered in what looked to be very comfy pillows in the center of the room.  The bedspread was plush – and plaid.  Directly in front of the bed was a large, comfortable-looking leather sofa that was facing a large screen TV hung over a roaring fireplace.  The whole backside of the bedroom was covered in floor to ceiling windows, like the living room with spectacular views.  Immediately to the right when entered, there was an oak desk and office chair.  Built-in bookcases were on either side of the TV – one filled with books and the other with some blank spaces. 

“Dean’s room is next door – they’re at the end of the hallway because I had them warded for no magical interference.  No one can do magic in these two rooms – I thought that would make you more comfortable.  It also means you can have electronics, which won’t work anywhere else in the apartment.  Also plugs, so that you can charge your mobile.”

Sam continued to look around in wonder, which seemed like a positive response to Harry, so he continued talking, as the silence made him nervous.  “Er – there’s a fridge here to the left, with some things I thought you might like in it.  And next to it is a safe.  There is also a safe in your bedside tables – I was thinking for guns or weapons because, if you’re here at the same time as the kids, I wanted to be sure that they are kept out of reach.  Just there is a loo and a closet.  Um, you’re free to bring books here, if you want.  I asked Hermione, and she helped me stock what’s on there, from the conversations that you two had when you were younger, but if there is anything else you want, I can get it…”

Harry ran out of words.  Sam opened the fridge, simply because that seemed like the best thing to do when he didn’t quite know what to say.  Inside, there was his favorite type of beer (he had no idea how Harry knew that), some diet soda (also his favorite kind), and rows of Snickers bars.  He still didn’t say anything. 

“Uh – I don’t know if you still like Snickers, but you told me one time…”

“Yeah, the night we rented all the movies and ate candy all night.” Sam finally spoke, remembering what had to have been one of the best moments of his childhood, that he had completely forgotten about.  “You let me buy one of each – I don’t know if I’ve ever been that sugar-high in my life.”

Harry laughed.  “Me neither.  Dean’s room has DVDs instead of books – including the ones we watched that night.  And Bambi, which I’ve still never seen, but maybe sometime…”

Sam nodded.  He felt like he was in a dream.  Maybe this was a dream.  A really weird one, though. 

“Let’s go downstairs and talk.”  Harry pointed out Dean’s room (a “D” on the door, of course) on their way out.  When they got there, Harry asked, “You want a beer?”

“Uh – sure, thanks, man.”

“Accio beer.”  Two beers came soaring over. 

“Woah.”

“Yeah, Bobby had a similar reaction.”  Harry went silent, hoping that Sam would say something.

“What happened that night?” he finally asked. 

“I’m not sure – I was hoping your angel friend might shed some more light on it, but he seems to have quite the distaste for wizards.” 

“Don’t worry, Cas didn’t like me much at the beginning either.  I’m sure he’ll warm-up.  Or not, he’s a weird guy.  I meant, why’d you leave and never come back?  It seems like you might have known about us this whole time.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of his beer.  “Well, John – Dad, that is, he kicked me out, I think you heard that part.  Then he told me that if I ever came back, he’d kill me, so…  I stayed away.”

“Even after he died?”

“I didn’t know he had died until a couple of weeks ago.  I wish I had come back though – Bobby thinks that he was being possessed by an angel.  I just thought he hated me because of the Dementors.  I didn’t want to put you and Dean at risk, and honestly, I was scared.” 

Sam took a second to process it.  He guessed he understood.  Dean wouldn’t though – to Dean, leaving family was a high crime and misdemeanor.  Slowly, his confusion over this situation was turning to anger.  Harry had known about them this whole time – and never bothered to reach out.  It was obvious that the older man had resources and know-how.  Sam and Dean, meanwhile, had nothing but each other.  “So, what do you want from us then?”  he asked bluntly. 

Harry’s eyes widened slightly.  “Er – nothing.  I just thought we were family and…”

“How can we be family if you stayed away for fourteen years?  We could have used you, Harry. I could have.  When you were with us that summer, I thought… well, I thought that I finally had a brother, not a protector or drill sergeant.  I might have forgotten, but you didn’t.  You promised you’d be there for me, and you weren’t.” 

Harry hung his head.  If he hadn’t been so pissed, Sam may have felt bad for the guy.  “I’m sorry Sam, you’re right.  I wasn’t and I should have been.  Maybe it’s too late now, but I thought I’d try.” 

“Well, think again.”  Sam put his drink down.  “I’d like to go back to Oklahoma now.” 

Harry nodded.  “Alright.  I’ll take you.  You want to go to your motel room or the bar?”

“Motel.”

Harry   put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and the squeezing sensation happened once again.  It was awful.  And they were back in Sam’s room. 

“I’m sorry, Sam, I really am.  I’m going to be in the States for six months – if you ever want to reach out, Bobby knows how to contact me.”  And he left. 

“Don’t hold your breath,” Sam said to an empty room. 

III

“So, you're his vessel, huh? Lucifer's wearing you to the prom?” Dean asked Sam on the phone.

“That's what he said,” Sam replied.

“Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh, Sammy?”

“So, that's it? That's your response?”

“What are you looking for?”

“I don't know. A—a little panic? Maybe?”

“I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point.”

Sam thought that he had another revelation for Dean, that might shatter things a bit for him, but at this point, why bother.  He would prefer to have no contact with Harry and he was pretty sure that Dean would feel the same way.  “What are we gonna do about it?”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“I want back in, for starters.”

“Sam—”

“I mean it. I am sick of being a puppet to these sons of bitches. I'm gonna hunt him down, Dean.”

“Oh, so, we're back to revenge, then, are we? Yeah, 'cause that worked out so well last time.”

“Not revenge. Redemption.”

“So, what, you're just gonna walk back in and we're gonna be the dynamic duo again?”

“Look, Dean, I can do this. I can. I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“Look, Sam—it doesn't matter—whatever we do. I mean, it turns out that you and me, we're the, uh, the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good.”

“Dean, it does not have to be like this. We can fight it.”

“Yeah, you're right. We can. But not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us—love, family, whatever it is—they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that. Yeah, we're better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways.”

“Dean, don't do this.”

“Bye, Sam.”

III

Work at MACUSA was almost duller than work was at the Ministry.  Still, Harry determined that this was i why he was back in the US, and he wanted to help as much as possible.  At least MACUSA wanted him there.  It seemed like the Muggle (or as they called it, No-Maj) world in the US was in a bit of turmoil.  So far, it had not affected the wizarding population of the US yet, but Harry had been forced to sit through many, many endlessly boring meetings about what was to be done. 

The hero worship was getting to be a bit much, too.  It took all the practice with the public Harry had had over the years not to roll his eyes every time the Aurors were overly formal or just plain star-struck by him.  At least in Britain, the witches and wizards in his office were used to him – and if not used to him, scared of him enough not to treat him like he was some sort of god. 

And he was getting more and more depressed each day that he didn’t hear from his brothers or Bobby.  After Sam’s outburst, he thought it was best to let them come to him.  And he took the silence to mean that Dean felt the same way that Sam did.  So, when he wasn’t at work, he spent hours thinking over every word that he said to his younger brother and imagining the scenarios where he came back earlier and helped.  And drinking.  

However, there was work to be done.  He was in another meeting – something about fire tornadoes, he wasn’t really paying attention – when the wizard that had been assigned to by his assistant while here, tapped his shoulder. 

“I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, Mr. Potter, but one of your associates is in your office and she says that she has an urgent update for you.”

Everyone in the room was looking at him at this point.  “My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like there is an urgent matter that has come up that I must attend to.  In the meantime, Paul is going to sit in on this meeting and take notes so that I am up-to-date.” He got up and indicated that Paul should sit in his seat.  He looked thrilled but terrified at the same time. 

Harry stepped out of the room and let out a big sigh of relief.  That meeting was scheduled to go at least another couple of hours, and he felt like he had just received a get-out-of-jail-free card.  He strode over to the space that had been designated his office, nodding to the witches and wizards who greeted him on his way. 

Who he found in his office was a bit of a surprise.  It was Kayla, his liaison to all of his Winchester-related shell companies and watchers.  She was a brilliant woman – but a squib.  She came from a long line of witches and wizards and didn’t want to leave their world behind.  She had even attended Ilvermorny, which had curriculum enough for the not-so-magically powerful and had been near the top of her class.  Unfortunately, there were not many positions for squibs in the magical world, especially for people of her intellectual prowess.  However, she was the perfect person for the job she did for Harry.  She managed all the finances and supervised the team while being able to move freely between the two worlds.  Harry had never met her in person until this trip, and he was even more impressed by her in person. 

“Ms. Bluebonnet,” he greeted warmly.  “It is a pleasure to see you again.  How can I help today?  Please, have a seat.  Do you want anything to drink?  Tea or coffee?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Potter,” she said sitting down.

Another thing that Harry appreciated about her was her professionalism.  If she was impressed by who he was she had never shown it to him.  Granted, – she hadn’t known that he was her employer until quite recently.

“You’re welcome, just let me know if you need anything.  I’m presuming some urgent matter has come up with the Winchesters.”  She, of course, did not know that they were his brothers.  Very few people did. 

“Yes.  It’s the gambling division, it seems that Dean has once again gotten himself into hot water with some gambling debt.”

Harry sighed.  Dean was terrible at poker.  “Of course, you have my permission to funnel any additional funds needed towards the situation.  Although, I do wish that they had been able to interfere before the debt came to be. Were they unable to get to the table again?” 

Usually, one of the team members handling the gambling side of the finances for Dean was able to sit in on any games or be in the room, to make luck fall on his brother’s side.  It wasn’t ideal – Harry didn’t love the idea of cheating Muggles out of money – but it was the best way he knew how to support Dean without being a bit more direct. 

“It was a very private game – our watchers didn’t even realize he was playing.  It was one-on-one.  But there is more… It seems that the dealer of these games is a demonic witch.  Quite old too.  I know that you usually leave them to their own devices when dealing with…those types, but I thought you might be particularly interested in this case.”

“How much did he lose?”  Harry was alarmed.  He was quite rich, but his finances weren’t infinite.  The money that he had been using for the Winchesters all came from the American bank account that his parents had set up for him as a baby. 

“That’s the thing, sir, he didn’t lose money.  He lost years off of his life.”

“How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know, sir. I don’t understand the powers that these demonic witches possess.”

“Is this normal for the Winchesters?”

“Sadly, yes.” 

Harry thought about it.  He didn’t want to interfere, if at all possible. Sam had made it clear that he wasn’t wanted and Bobby hadn’t reached out to him at all in the last couple of weeks. 

“How many years?”

“It’s hard to tell – 50 perhaps.” 

That would put Dean in his 80s.  For a Muggle, that was quite old.  Also, Harry was bored.  And dying to see his older brother. 

“Alright.  I’ll go check it out myself.  Thank you, Ms. Bluebonnet, excellent work as always.”

“You are welcome, sir.  Would you like me to clear your schedule with Paul for the rest of the day?”

“Yes, please.” 

He was about to leave until he realized he was missing one crucial detail.  “Where are they?”

She told him and he was off. 

He arrived at the motel where they were staying – he quickly ducked behind a column as he saw Sam leaving and heading towards the Impala.  

Sam looked normal at least – if not in a hurry.  Harry went straight to the motel room door and was about to knock when the door opened all on its own.  It was Dean, with a duffle bag swung over his shoulder and a smug grin on his face.  The grin disappeared when he saw Harry. 

“You!” He said, dropping his bag and pulling out a gun.  Harry put his hands up. 

“Hey there – sorry, I heard that you were in trouble and…”

“Who’s there, Dean?” Bobby rolled up behind his brother.

“Stay back Bobby, I ran into this guy a couple of weeks back.  He knew my name.”

Bobby peered about Dean and saw who it was.  “Well, of course, he knew your name, you idjit.  Didn’t Sam tell you about him?” 

Dean let his focus shift.  “Sam knows him?”

“Uh, yeah, he does.  You do, too, just don’t remember.  Put your gun down.  Harry, come on in.” 

Dean listened to Bobby but he was ready to re-draw as soon as the man proved to be a threat.  All three of them went into the motel room. 

“Sorry,” Harry started.  “I thought Sam would have told him by now.  I know that you’ve not been in contact, figured you didn’t want to see me.  But when I heard that Dean had gambled away half his life, I thought I could help.  Looks like you have it all under control now.” 

Bobby laughed.  “I almost forgot, of course your people let you know, huh.  You’re right, by the way – he is terrible at poker, hadn’t seen him in action before.”

“Bobby!” Dean and Harry protested at the same time, with one voice.  They looked at each other. 

“Same damn person.  Dean, this is your brother, Henry, he’s been fixin’ your poker games for years.”

“I’m sorry, what?”  Dean asked.  “No one needs to fix my poker games, I’m amazing at poker.”  He thought for a second.  “Did you say brother?” 

“Yeah, I did.”  Bobby sighed.  “You better call Cas.” 

“What does Cas have to do with this?  I have another brother?  Jesus Christ, Dad was busy.” 

“Harry – or Henry – isn’t like Adam, Dean.  He’s the son of Mary and John.”

Dean’s expression hardened from confusion to anger. “What? No.  That’s not possible.”

Bobby rolled his eyes.  “See, you are the smart Winchester, Harry. Give me your phone, Dean.” 

Dean handed Bobby his phone while he glared at Harry.  “Look, pal, I don’t know how you’ve managed to hoodwink Bobby, but you sure as hell are no brother of mine.  What are you?  Five foot three?”  

Harry scowled back at him.  “Five foot seven.”  It had been awhile since anyone other than the Weasley’s had dared make a crack at his height.  He stood up a little straighter.  

“Hey, Cas – yeah, it’s Bobby, look Dean needs you … ”

Bobby didn’t even finish the sentence before Cas appeared.

“What’s wrong with Dean?” Cas asked, concerned.  Bobby pointed.  Cas’ expression turned from a look of concern to a look of disgust.  Again. 

“Wait, before you say anything,” Harry said, cutting off the angel.  “We get it, you don’t like me.  Could you just fix Dean’s memories and fly off? Or do whatever it is that angels do all day?” 

Dean looked between the two of them.  “Cas knows him too?  How did I miss the memo?”

Cas crossed over to Dean and pressed two fingers onto his forehead.  Dean doubled over in pain.  Harry waited patiently, having been through this twice already.  When he came back up, he looked at Harry with new clarity.  And immediately swung his arm to punch Harry in the face.  Harry dodged, and Dean’s right hand hit the wall.  He hit Harry square in the jaw with his left hook, knocking him back, but not down.

“Ow.  I guess your reflexes are as good as they always were,” Dean grumbled about his fist that had hit the wall.  

Harry rubbed his face – that was going to bruise.  He supposed he had earned that.

“It’s what you deserve, asshat,” Bobby said.  “Where do you get off, punching your brother like that?”

Dean wrung his hand out.  “Where the hell have you been, man?” 

“England?”  

Dean snorted.  “Figures.  Get over here.”  Surprising everyone in the room, Harry most of all, Dean pulled him into a brief hug.  As he pulled back, he said, “Dude, it’s so nice to have a younger brother that’s smaller than me.  You been facing any more dragons lately?”

“Er – after the Triwizard tournament?  Just the one.  Didn’t fight it, though, just took it for a joy ride after robbing a bank.  Goblins still haven’t forgiven me for that one … nasty bastards.”

Dean honestly didn’t know what to say to that. 

“Dean, you know this man is a wizard?”  Cas asked, again, spitting the word. 

“Yeah.  But he’s not in league with demons.”  He saw the expression on Cas’ face for the first time.  “What’s his problem?  You sleep with his mother or something?” 

“I do not have a mother,” Cas said. 

“I’ve no idea,” Harry said at the same time.  “Something about angels not liking wizards.  As far as I know, no wizard has met an angel before.  But from the wings and bright light, they do seem to cause headaches.  Any way you can turn that down?” 

“You can see his wings?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah.  They’re bright.  Enough to cause a migraine.” 

“What gives, Cas?”  No response, he clearly did not understand the question.  “What’s your problem with wizards?” 

Cas sighed.  He didn’t like to divulge such information, but he felt that Dean deserved an explanation.  And maybe he could convince his friend to make the wizard go away.  “They are the descendants of traitors and my brethren and I have no love for those who betrayed Heaven.” 

“Huh?” 

“Witches and wizards, as they are today, are descended from a lower order of angels.  The order was charged with watching over Man on Earth.  But they fell in love with my Father’s creation and fell, as a garrison, choosing Earth over Heaven.  Our Father, pleased that they were so taken with his creation, allowed them to fall but keep their capacity to use Grace, which they call magic.  They became humans, rejecting their Heavenly purpose.  That was their first betrayal.  They were meant to continue to live with the other humans and protect them from Lucifer’s creations.  Instead, they retreated and created their own society, leaving my garrison to be assigned to watch over everyone else.  They are useless traitors that Father should have wiped from the Earth.” 

Everyone took a second to absorb this information.  Dean thought that was the most disrespectful he had ever heard Cas talk about God.

“So, they are fallen angels, like Anna?” He asked. 

“No, not like Anna.  Anna had to rip her Grace out to become human.  God allowed these angels to keep a portion of their Grace, which is what gives them their powers, but they have to channel that Grace through another object.  Having Grace makes it so that demons cannot possess them.  They have both human souls and access to angel Grace.” 

“Look, I’m just as surprised as you to learn this.  Wizards don’t have a religion – at least British ones don’t.  I had no idea.  We only started hiding from Muggles when they started burning us at the stake,” Harry defended.  He couldn’t wait to tell Hermione – or Luna, for that matter. 

“Does this mean that Harry is both my brother and yours?” Dean asked. 

Cas glowered.  “No.  This is no brother of mine.  He is a descendant of my fallen brothers and sisters.  A nephew, if you must make a familial connection, but I would prefer you did not.  I must go now, Dean.  But I must advise you not to trust this wizard, they are not a race to be trusted.”  He left. 

Dean scratched his head.  “Well, that’s a new, kinda racist, side to Cas.” 

“I guess that at least explains the glares.  Although, I fail to see how it’s my fault.  I still can’t believe that angels are real.  And they’re dicks.” 

 “Yeah, they sure are.  You should meet Zachariah – he’s the worst.  So, you already saw Sam?”

Harry nodded.  “Yeah, a couple of weeks back.  I think you were hunting separately at the time. He’s                   angry at me for leaving.  That’s probably why he didn’t say anything to you.” 

“Didn’t Dad throw you out and threaten to shoot you if you came back?”

“Yeah, yeah he did.  He was possessed by an angel, though.  We think.”

“Bastards.  I knew there was something wrong with him that night.  Look, Harry, I can’t believe you’ve stayed away this long, but you were fifteen and Dad was scary.” 

“He was,” Harry hesitated for a moment.  He was worried about the emotional weight that this conversation could carry so he said, “I could really use a drink.  Do you want to grab one?” 

“You do speak my language.  You buyin’?”

Harry laughed, “Sure.”

“Good, then let’s go.  Bobby – you good?”

“Yeah – I’ll let Sam know where you’ve gone.  Some might call me an alcoholic, but even I try not to drink before noon.”

Dean shrugged.  “More for us, then.  I know this place up the street, has the hottest waitress…” 

The two of them headed out.  As to be expected, the bar was pretty barren, being approximately eleven in the morning on a Tuesday.  There were a couple of drunks already belly-up at the bar, but otherwise, the place was deserted. 

The two of them took a booth in a secluded corner.  Harry wondered if bringing Sam to his apartment had been the tipping point for his younger brother’s anger, so he planned to be more careful with Dean.  They both ordered beers. 

“So, what exactly did you feed Sam to make him so huge?  ‘Cause I’d like some.” Harry started.

Dean laughed.  “Mostly cereal and SpaghettiOs, as I’m sure you recall, he wasn’t a fan of my cooking abilities.”  

The waitress came back with their drinks.  Once she was gone, Harry carefully pulled out his wand and muttered, “Muffliato.”

“Dude, what was that?” Dean asked. 

“It’s a spell that will allow us to talk without being overheard.” 

“Cool.”

Silence. 

“Other than bank robbing and dragon-riding, what have you been up to all these years?”

Harry laughed and was somewhat taken by surprise. Sam hadn’t asked him many personal questions.  “I guess I did make myself sound like a petty criminal, didn’t I?”

“Meh, I’m sure I’ve done worse.”

“I’m not sure what exactly you remember – or what Dad did or did not tell you at the time, but there was… a war just starting before I left.  That is what kept me away at first.  I was at the center of it all, and it would not have been safe for the world to know about my Muggle family, even with you in the US.”

“Dad told me a lot – and I got to read that magazine article about you and the dragon.  That was the moment that I started to respect you.”

At the look on Harry's face, he continued, “But not a lot, don’t go getting any crazy ideas.”

Harry laughed and said, “For the record – you were right, I was using magic to be better at you at just about everything.  Some of it was accidental, but some of it wasn’t.  I was pretty determined not to let you beat me at anything.”

“I KNEW IT!” Dean shouted.  He looked around to see who had overheard that, and then remembered the spell Harry had cast. 

“But if you ever tell anyone – and by anyone, I mean Sam – I’ll deny it.” 

“You son-of-a-bitch.”

“Pretty sure you just insulted your own mother there, mate.” 

“I remember you being a smartass.  I guess not that much has changed.” 

“I suppose not.”  It was evident to both brothers that everything had changed. 

“So, what happened between you and Sam?” 

“I honestly don’t know – I thought everything was alright.  We tussled a bit and then I took him to my flat in New York and showed him around.  But, after it all, he asked me what I wanted from you both, and honestly, I didn’t know how to answer.  Whatever I said wasn’t right.”  Harry had gone over what had been said a million times in his head.  He honestly didn’t know where it had all gone wrong.   

“He’s got anger issues – don’t worry about it, something else will stand right in front of him and make him angrier sooner or later and he’ll come around.  And speak of the devil.” Sam approached their table. 

“Sammy, why don’t you join us?  Did the doc get you all fixed up?” Dean asked.  Sam looked at him with confusion and was looking around his head as if a bee was buzzing around him. 

“Oh, right, sorry,” Harry said and undid the spell.  The buzzing in Sam’s ears stopped and he pushed Dean to the side to sit next to him and scowl at Harry from across the table. 

“What the fuck do you want,” he asked bluntly. 

“Sam!” Dean admonished. 

“What?  He left and he didn’t come back.  You still haven’t forgiven me for going to Stanford, I don’t see why this would be any different.” 

“That is completely different.  You walked out – Dad kicked him out.  And he was fifteen.”

“I was eleven the first time I ran off.  And Dad told me not to come back – eerily similar language.”

“He said if you chose to leave, to not come back.  You made a choice, Sam.  You left us to fend for ourselves.” 

“Uh – guys –” Harry tried to interrupt.

“Shut up,” they said together.  Harry held his hands up in surrender and continued to listen to his brothers’ argument.  It was an old one, he could tell, as their voices rose in volume, he recast muffliato to not disturb the others in the bar. 

“Dad forced me to leave just as much as he forced Harry.  It was stifling, living with him, being under his control…”

“His control?  And I don’t remember him ever holding you at gunpoint.  He was keeping us safe and we were helping people.  And, this isn’t about Dad.  This is about Harry.  You didn’t tell me you met – left that little detail out.  I can’t believe you’re keeping secrets again, Sam, I thought we had gotten past this.”

“I was hoping he’d take a hint and go away.  He said he didn’t want anything from us, and I figured that we didn’t need anything from him – he didn’t grow up in the life, what help could he be anyway?”

“Dude, you didn’t think that having a wizard on our side would be helpful?” 

“You’re so opposed to demons helping us, I didn’t think a wizard would be any better!”

“Are you making this about Ruby?  This isn’t Ruby – he is our brother.  And, you know, not evil.” 

“So he says. What evidence do we even have of that?  He could be anyone.  Remember what happened with Adam?”

“He’s not a shapeshifter.  Cas confirmed who he was.  Bobby, too. How else would he know about the memories?  Dad certainly believed he was.”

“Of course, well, if Dad said so, it must be right.  Absolute faith in Dad, all the time.  He wasn’t this great, infallible being.  Look at what he did to Harry!”

“Oh, now you’re on Harry’s side, well…”

“For the love of Merlin… SILENCIO!”  Harry yelled.  He had heard enough.  It was painful watching his brothers fight like this.  Both men fell silent under the spell and they turned from each other to glare at Harry.  He returned the glare. 

“Look, I messed up by staying away.  I see that now. But after the war, honestly, I was convinced that I was no good to anyone, much less some estranged family in the States.  After I learned that Dad had died… I did what I always do, charged into an unknown situation, wand a-blazin’.  I didn’t want to create an even bigger divide between the two of you.  If you decide – if both of you decide – you would like me in your life, great.  Just don’t make me watch you argue and tear each other apart for it.  Bobby knows how to get into contact when you’ve made up your minds.” 

He reversed the spell, but before either of them got to say anything, he disappeared with a ‘pop.’ 

III

Sam and Dean returned to Bobby – who was waiting for them back at the motel.  They hadn’t spoken since Harry had popped away – both feeling slightly ashamed of their actions and angry at the other for arguing. 

Bobby’s look of disappointment when they came back to the motel room without Harry also made them feel ashamed.  He waited until they were back at his house to voice his opinion.

“You scared him off already, huh?  Nicely done boys.”

Neither tried to defend himself. 

“Not only have you alienated your brother, your own flesh and blood, but you’ve also pushed away an extremely powerful ally.  Did you even get around to what his life has been like since he left?”

“No, but I can’t imagine that he’d been through nearly what we have,” Sam quipped back, annoyed that everyone seemed to be on Harry’s side. 

Bobby leveled him with a glare.  “You two have each other.  Who does Harry have?  After your daddy kicked him out, no one.  When he left – he went to war.  He didn’t tell me the half of it – but he gave me some books.  His people allowed a child to fight a war for them.  And he won.  But can a victory really be declared when children fight the war?”

“He seemed just fine to me,” Sam scoffed.  “Fancy New York apartment and all.  That place has views of Central Park and seven bedrooms.  You think he didn’t have the resources to come back earlier?  Don’t you think we could have used his help?”

“What makes you think he hasn’t been helping you this whole time?” Bobby asked.

“What do you mean?” Dean finally spoke up. 

“When’s the last time you’ve been tapped for credit card fraud?  Or gotten your insurance denied at the hospital?  Hell, I know how you drive, Dean, tell me about your latest speeding ticket.” 

Realization shone on their faces.  “No… that can’t be possible,” Dean said.

“It’s possible.  Sounds like he’s been running quite the operation, keeping up with the both of you financially.  For that matter Sam, he didn’t say anything, but I suspect it, you got a full ride to Stanford didn’t ya?” 

Sam shook his head.  “I did – but my scholarship came from a private donor.  The Henry Hunter Jr. Fund – oh.”  He had always thought the name ironic, but now he saw it was meant to be a clue. 

“You’re an ijdit.” 

Sam sat down.  That…changed things.  He had been jealous.  Jealous that his brother had gotten a get-out-of-hunting-free card and an affluent life.

“He paid for Sammy’s college?” Dean asked. 

Bobby turned his chair towards Dean.  “I think so.  And don’t you go looking all smug, other than our last little…adventure with the he-witch, when was the last time you lost at poker or hustling pool?” 

“I never lose.  I’m amazing, I told you that earlier,” Dean said with a grin. 

“Oh, wipe that smirk off your face, jackass.  Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?  Statistically speaking?” 

“You were serious earlier?”  He had thought that Bobby had just been trying to get a rise out of him.  Dean’s face fell a little and he started thinking.  He’d thought that winning had been karma’s way of giving back to him working for free.  But since when had karma ever been on his side?  He also sat down on the sofa.  “I’m an asshole,” he said. 

Bobby hadn’t stopped glaring.  “Yes, you are.  That’s what he did for a family that he thought didn’t want anything to do with him.  Imagine what he might do for a family that welcomed him like the brother he is?  I get it – your childhood was crappy.  So was his, and ain’t none of your faults.”

He wheeled himself over to the coffee table and grabbed some books off of it and shoved them at Sam and Dean. 

“Take these – read a bit.  And don’t come back here lookin’ for help until after you’ve made up with him, you hear me?”

“Yes sir,” they said in unison. 

“Good, now get – and take the mirror from the front hall – that’s how you can get in contact with him.  Just say his name.” 

They both slunk out – Sam grabbing the mirror.  The car ride to the motel was silent.  They both had a lot to think about.  

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy 

Part Three: Chapter Four – Four Archangels for Four Brothers

Season 5 – Episode 8 (Changing Channels) 

Harry didn’t know that when Ron and Hermione referred to him as their brother, that it was more than a nice way to qualify their friendship.  Words had a magic of their own and it was carefully constructed language so that the modified sibling-monitoring charm would work on him so that they could check-in.  The charm had been inspired by Mrs. Weasley’s family clock so that the couple could keep an eye on Harry anywhere he was in the world.  

It was the reason that they knew where to go get him when he was passed-out drunk in a Muggle pub and it was how they knew that he needed their help now.  The monitor, unlike Mrs. Weasley’s clock, didn’t focus on location – it focused on Harry’s emotions and mental state.  Only when that mental state got to purple (usually meaning he was quite drunk and a danger to himself) did the monitor let them know where he was. 

The couple was just getting ready for work one morning when the alarm went off, blaring.  There was a mutual sigh before they went into their “Harry is in distress” plan.  They had planned for this – with the emotional upheaval of meeting with his potentially unstable family, and Hermione had even made Ron practice what they were going to do in an emergency drill.  Thankfully, they had already been getting the children ready to spend the day at the Burrow (it was so nice to have such a large extended family).  Ron added the overnight bag to the supplies he was taking for the children and would floo George when he got to the Burrow to say that he would be out today.  The business was thriving so they had plenty of employees to watch the shop, but it did put Ron a bit behind on paperwork when these emergencies happened. 

Hermione started packing bags for Ron and herself.  When MACUSA had set up the apartment for Harry in New York, she had been sure to get a permit so that they could portkey into the building, no questions asked.  She had well-trained deputies that could take over the minutiae of running the office at the moment’s notice.  Additionally, it was written into her job contract that five percent of her duties were dedicated to what others called “hero management.”  Ron called it the Harry’s-Gone-Mental stipulation.   Hermione hit him whenever he said that. 

Ron was able to complete the emergency procedures in record time – he was out and back to the house within fifteen minutes. 

“Ready?” Hermione asked when he got back. 

“Ready,” he confirmed. 

They found Harry sitting on his sofa, watching the fireplace, bottle of firewhiskey in his hands.  There were a couple of empty bottles scattered about the room.  Some of them were shattered, which was a very bad sign.  It was nearly five in the morning in the US and they could tell that he hadn’t slept at all.  Hermione felt her anger grow. She quickly put two and two together to realize that something had happened with the Winchesters.  

“I was wondering if you two would show up,” he said quietly, as they entered the room.  “I thought that maybe, being across the pond, you wouldn’t know.”  He took a swig from the bottle.  Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him. 

“Naw, it takes more than a great big ocean to get rid of us,” Ron said.  “Surely, you didn’t think something so trivial could keep us away.”

Harry’s laugh was hollow.  “It kept me away.”  He took another drink.  This time, as he put his hand down, Hermione gently removed the bottle and scooted closer to him. 

“Harry, what happened with your brothers?” She asked. 

“Not much.  Sam’s mad at me for leaving and then they fought.  But Hermione, they’ve been through hell,” he didn’t know how correct that statement was, “and I wasn’t here.  What kind of brother am I?  What if I could have helped?” 

“Maybe you could have,” Hermione said.  Ron glared at her, but she continued, “But Harry, think about the people you helped back home at that time.  Both in the war and after, you have saved so many people.” 

Harry shook his head, “Strangers, for the most part, when my family needed me.” 

“Oi, what does that make us?” Ron protested.  “We’re your family Harry, and you’ve saved us in so many ways.” 

Harry couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t make him feel better.  When he got to the bottom of the bottle and allowed his thoughts to turn dark, he often thought everyone, including the Winchesters, would have been better off if he had just gotten on the train when he had the chance.   

“Harry … I found something that you may find interesting,” Hermione said.  She reached into her bag and pulled out a large stack of books.  This was unsurprising, coming from her. 

Harry picked one up.  They didn’t look like the kind of books Hermione usually hauled around with her (huge, leather-bound, academic types), they looked like cheap Muggle romance novels.  The one on the top of the stack had the title, ‘Supernatural,’ by Carver Edlund. 

“What are these?” Harry asked. 

“These are books about your brothers.  It’s quite incredible, some of what goes on in this hunting world.  These books are out of print, so they were hard to find, but I managed to track down a set.  These are the British versions, of course, which I understand have some differences…”

Harry looked a little horrified.  “I’m not in them, am I?”

“No, they start after Sam left Stanford.  You’ll have to ask them how accurate they are – but I think the insight will be helpful.” 

Harry just stared at the books for a second. 

“You don’t need to read them now,” Hermione said, seeing how overwhelmed her friend looked.  “I’ll just put these away, shall I?”  She flicked her wand and the books vanished.  Harry assumed they were now on his bookshelf. 

The wards in the apartment buzzed.  “Ugh,” Harry said, “that’s my alarm to get ready for work.”

“Harry, you are in no condition to work,” Hermione chided.  “Look at you.  You’re still completely soused.”

“And, no offense, you smell like the inside of the Hog’s Head,” Ron added. 

Harry sniffed a little at the air to confirm and shuddered a bit.  “Yeah, I stink.  I’ll go take a shower.  And a sobering potion.”  Sobering potions were the worst, which is why Harry (and everyone else) usually avoided them.  A severe stomach cramp would make the drinker vomit all the ethanol in their system.  Any trace that wasn’t vomited would ooze out of the pores of the drinker’s skin.  It was disgusting and quite painful.

“That’s not…” Hermione started, but Harry had already started bumbling towards his room.  She sighed.  “I’ll just have to call in and tell them that I need him on an urgent matter in Britain.  He is in no state to be going to work.  Accio Harry’s mirror,” she said.  It flew into her hands, and as soon as it did, she screeched and dropped it.  (Thankfully Harry had put a charm on it years ago to stop it from breaking – after what happened with Sirius’ old mirror.) 

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked, concerned. 

“There’s a man…”

“Hello?” A voice rang from the fallen mirror.  “Uh – I’m looking for Harry?  Bobby said we could reach him through this mirror?” 

Hermione picked the mirror back up.  There was, indeed, a man, with longer-than-usual brown hair and a concerned look on his face. 

“This is Harry’s mirror.  I’m Hermione Granger-Weasley.  He’s out of the room at the moment – can I help?” 

“Hermione?  It’s Sam.  We met when…”

Hermione’s face hardened.  She wasn’t the Winchester’s biggest fan at the moment.  She and Ron had spent years trying to convince Harry of his worth and it appeared that these so-called brothers of his had undone quite a bit of their progress.  “Ah yes,” she said coolly, “I remember.  Harry’s just getting ready for work.  What do you want?”

“Uh – we were hoping to see Harry?  Apologize for, well …”

“Being dicks,” Hermione heard in the background.  That must be Dean. 

Hermione pursed her lips.  She was worried that these men would hurt Harry again, but she also knew that her best friend wouldn’t stay away.  If they came over now, she and Ron could at least have a … chat with them.

“Alright, where are you?” 

Sam answered and Hermione nodded to Ron.  Ron went and about two minutes later was back with a ‘pop.’ 

“Dude, what the hell?” the shorter of the two asked.  To Hermione’s satisfaction, both men looked a little green around the gills. 

Hermione cleared her throat.  “So glad you could make it,” she said.  “Now, have a seat, the both of you.”

It was comical how quickly the two men listened to her.  It seemed to concern the two of them as well as they both reached into their jackets.

“Expelliarmus,” Ron incanted and, both of their guns, as well as some knives, came flying at the couple.  They caught all of them.  The brothers went to stand before Hermione hit them with a sticking hex. 

“Are you quite done?”

They didn’t look any more relaxed, but they stopped fighting the hex.  Outwardly, at least. 

“Good.  Now, my name is Hermione Granger-Weasley, and this is my husband, Ron.” Ron stood in front of them, arms crossed, doing his best Auror stance.  He was the same height as Sam – although leaner with a slighter build.  The look on his face would have intimidated lesser men, but the Winchesters were not-so-easily frightened.  “We are here because you two morons did not act in a very brotherly fashion yesterday.  We want to make it very clear that this kind of behavior is unacceptable.” 

“What’s it to you, lady?” Dean asked, not quite believing the pair on this woman. 

“Harry is our best friend.  You upset him, you upset us, and we’re far less forgiving,” Ron responded. 

“Do you have any idea of who Harry is?” Hermione asked. 

“Uh – well, Bobby gave us a couple of books.  We haven’t read through them completely, but we got a general sense…” Sam started. 

“I’m pretty sure I know which books those were, and let me tell you that they downplay Harry’s importance.  And his power.  You can’t move right now, right?  This is minor magic.  It is nothing compared to what we’re capable of.  Although I am often credited with being the smartest witch of our generation, Harry is the most powerful.  And, more importantly, the most beloved.”  Hermione was trying to speak their language, to let them know that whatever kind of big-shot hunters they thought they were, Harry could pound them into the ground if he wanted to. 

“What point are you trying to make?” Dean asked. 

“My point is, that despite your attitudes towards him thus far, you are still on his good side.”  She let the threat fall without saying it. 

Dean looked at her incredulously.  “What, we won’t like him when he’s angry?” 

Hermione smiled in a way that was both pleasant and threatening at the same time.  It sent shivers down Dean’s spine. 

“Harry’s not the one you need to worry about.  You won’t like the ire of the entire wizarding world if you hurt him.  We will come for you in numbers that you cannot even begin to comprehend.  And, in the end, you’ll wish it was just Harry you had to face.” 

“HERMIONE!”  Everyone in the room turned to see Harry, showered and sober now and dressed fully in his Auror robes and furious.  What he didn’t know was that he was aiding the point Hermione was making – the angry energy and power rolling off him confirmed everything she had just said.  Plus, to Sam and Dean, he looked and sounded remarkably like John when he was angry.  “Just what do you think you’re playing at?” 

Hermione hadn’t seen Harry this angry in a very long time.  “Harry – I was just…”

He leveled her with a glare.  “I know what you were doing.  Those are my brothers.  Would I ever talk to someone in your family like that?” 

“No, but…”

His look stopped her. 

She huffed.  “They upset you,” she managed to get out. 

“I think that’s my problem, not yours.  I didn’t ask you two to come in and save me.  I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.  And, need I remind you, that you are Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – and I just caught you threatening Muggles with magic.” 

She gulped. 

“I think it would be best for the two of you to leave now,” Harry said to his friends. 

“But Harry –”

“Now.”

“Oh alright.  But I will call you out from work today, no need to go in, get some sleep instead.”

“Thanks, Mum,” he responded sarcastically. 

She turned to leave, Ron too, who had watched all of this with silent amusement.  He shrugged his shoulders at Harry like, ‘what’d you expect?’  And in fairness, when Hermione got like this there wasn’t much that could stop her.  Not that he had tried.

“Great to see you, mate,” Ron said as they headed out.  “Oh, and Mum baked you a treacle tart and some other sweets – we left them in your pantry.” 

“Molly is never going to stop trying to fatten me up, is she?” Harry sighed. 

“Not a chance in hell.” 

“Thanks, Ron.  Give my love to Rosie and Hugo.”

“Will do.” 

They left via portkey. 

Harry turned back to his brothers and non-verbally released them from the sticking charm and returned their weapons.  He absently ran his hand through his hair and looked a bit wary.  The brothers could see the exhaustion on his face now that he had calmed down a bit.  “Er – sorry about that.  They’re a bit protective is all.  They’ve never been great about letting me fight my own battles.” 

Dean looked at Harry with wonder.  “Man – that was the best impression of Dad I’ve ever seen.  Don’t you agree Sammy?” 

Sam just nodded vigorously.  

Harry wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.  “Uh – thanks?  Are you two alright?  They didn’t … abduct you, did they?  If so, I may have to put out a warrant for their arrest.” 

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.  “Naw, it’s alright.  Just don’t tell Bobby or anybody that we got our asses handed to us by a woman that doesn’t even reach Sam’s shoulders.” 

A short silence. 

“Look, Harry, we’re sorry about the other day.  I’m sorry.  The memories were just so strong and fresh and…” 

“We were dicks,” Dean said, completing Sam’s sentence. 

“Yeah, complete dicks. Especially in light of all the help you’ve given us throughout the years.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow.  “And what help is that?”

“Bobby told us – something about credit cards and speeding tickets.  And of course, complete nonsense about you fixing some poker games.” 

“Also, my scholarship to Stanford.  Bobby wasn’t sure about that, but then I remembered what it was called … I see now that you were trying to reach out.  But, you know, no memories.”

Harry sighed.  “He wasn’t supposed to tell you about all of that.”  More-or-less admitting to all of the above.

“And why the hell not?” Dean asked. 

A shrug from the middle Winchester.  “It wasn’t much really.” 

Sam and Dean didn’t think so, but they decided not to press the issue. 

“What’s with the get-up?” Dean asked, referring to Harry’s robes and breaking the tension.

Harry looked down.  “Oh – this is normal in the wizarding world.”

“Dude – you’re wearing a dress.” 

“I am not.  I have on trousers, thank you very much.  But if it makes you uncomfortable.”  Non-verbally he transfigured his clothes to be identical to Dean’s – plaid shirt and green jacket with the collar popped.  “Better?” 

Sam laughed. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy having you around.”

Dean frowned.  “Why is it that sometimes you say words to do a spell and sometimes it’s just …” he indicated to the gesture Harry had just done to change clothes. 

“I mostly do verbal spells to make other people comfortable – so they know what’s coming.  It’s a habit – but I don’t really need the words.” 

“Is that… normal?” Sam asked.

Harry shrugged.  “It’s not unheard of,” sidestepping the question.  He was a little worried that this new-found acceptance from his brothers was only because they knew about the money.  “I know that as hunters, you can’t just go around trusting random people with abilities you’ve never seen before.  Even though I’m your brother, it’s been a while.  In the spirit of openness, why don’t we go back to Bobby’s and I’ll do a demonstration?  I had it declared as a residence for myself, so no one will bat an eye at magic done there.  I’ve also introduced Muggle hand-to-hand combat to my Auror’s official training – in honor of our training sessions as kids.  I’d love to spar and see if my skills are up to snuff.” 

“You want to fight – Sam and me?” Dean asked, a glint in his eyes. 

“Yeah, thought it’d  be fun.  Plus, Hermione getting me out of work for the day, so why not?” 

“Oh, you’re on.  No cheating.”

Harry laughed, “No magic, got it.  I’m pretty sure I can beat you without it anyway.”

“We’ll see.” 

Harry put his one hand on each brother’s shoulder. 

“Wait don’t –” Dean started, but it was too late and they were back at Bobby’s. 

“Son-of-a-fucking-bitch.  People gotta stop doing that.”

Harry smirked.  “Wizarding travel can be … challenging, believe it or not, apparating is one of the more pleasant forms.  Flying’s my favorite, of course, but it takes too much time.” 

The brothers set up an area in the back area of the junkyard where they would be unlikely to be spotted by outsiders.  Harry even levitated some cars to stack them a bit higher and set up wards.  The noise attracted Bobby, who just rolled his eyes, but didn’t leave. 

Once everything was set up, Dean turned to Harry.  “Alright, how about some ground rules?”

“Well, we’ve already established, no magic.  I think no weapons – hand-to-hand only.  A gun won’t work on me anyway.”

Sam frowned slightly.  “No gun?”  He was thinking of the Colt, of course.  Not that he would try it on his brother. 

“None that I know of.”

“What happens if you get shot?” Bobby asked, very curious about this.

“Why don’t you give it a try?”

“Are you serious?” Sam asked. 

Harry shrugged, “Why not?  I can see that you’re all curious – it won’t hurt me.  Wizards are made of sterner stuff than Muggles.”  He also had some pretty solid wards set up on his person, to protect him from such weapons.

Sam pulled out his gun.

“Sam, no,” Dean said.  It screamed against his every instinct to allow someone to shoot his brother. 

“It’s fine. Go for it, Sam.” 

Sam fired.  The bullet soared towards Harry’s abdomen – when it got close Harry cried out, doubled over, and fell face-first to the ground.  Sam’s eyes went wide. 

“Harry!” he exclaimed as he and Dean ran over to the fallen wizard. 

“You asshole, I told you not to shoot!” Dean said. 

They got over to him, and flipped him over to find the wound and hopefully stop the bleeding.  When Harry was on his back, they found – no blood.  No bullet either.  Harry opened one eye.  And started laughing. 

“That tickled!” He remarked as he got up from the ground, looking at his brothers’ astonished faces.  Faces that quickly turned to anger. 

“You dick,” said Dean, pulling his arm back to punch Harry in the face.  He, of course, moved out of the way. 

Bobby looked at Harry like he was an alien.  “You’re going to cause me more grief than your brothers, ain’t ya?” 

Harry looked a little sheepish.  “I hope not.  But as you can see – I’m bulletproof!” 

Dean had still not cooled off.  “Alright, Superman, let’s see if you’re fist-proof too.” 

“I’m ready, let’s go,” Harry said, putting on his serious face.  He regretted the joke a bit, mostly because of the looks of distress on everyone’s faces when they thought he had been shot.  Ron and Hermione would have killed him for it – it was pretty reckless on his part, as he didn’t know exactly what was going to happen when the bullet hit him. 

Dean advanced on him and threw a punch.  Harry ducked.  Another left hook – another dodge.  The eldest Winchester barreled at him, frustrated.  Harry did a nice little summersault out of the way. 

“Oh, come on, you too scared to take a punch?” Dean taunted, annoyed.  Harry grinned and went for the jugular.  Dean saw it coming though, and grabbed the man, and flipped him over.  Harry jumped back up, laughter in his eyes. 

They kept going for a long while – Harry trying to taunt and tire out the older man with a series of dodges and sideswipes.  But Dean was good, the best he ever faced, and eventually, was able to get him with a punch to the face that knocked him to the ground.  

“Ok, ok! Uncle!” Harry said. 

“That’s right,” said Dean, offering a hand to help Harry up.  Dean was impressed at Harry’s skills – they were damn good.  But not as good as his. 

Harry accepted the hand and shook his head a little.  “I think you broke my nose!” he said with astonishment. 

“Sorry about that, man,” Dean said, not sounding very sorry.  He figured it was the least Harry deserved after pretending to get shot. 

“Episkey,” Harry spoke.  His nose shifted back into the correct place and the blood cleared, much to the amazement of the other men.  “No worries, all better.  That was fun.  A break and then I’ll take on Sam.  Oh – I see your lip is split.  Episkey,” he said again.  Dean felt a cool sensation on his face and the pain in his lip disappeared. 

Dean looked at Sam and just mouthed, “wizard!”

Sam had watched the fight with interest.  Even though Harry was considerably shorter than both Dean and himself, he knew how to use other people’s strengths against them.  He remembered that his second older brother had displayed great abilities at defensive moves from when they were kids.  Mostly he was trying to assess if he would be an asset or a liability in the upcoming fight.  From what he had seen today, Sam had hope that it would be the former.  But he could also see the exhaustion in Harry’s eyes.  It wouldn’t be a fair fight if he took him on next.  It might not be a fair fight in any case, but he certainly wasn’t going to make the odds worse. 

“Why don’t we head inside and get some water?” Sam suggested.  

“Water, what are you, ten?” Dean quipped back.  “Let’s drink something real.”

“Dean, it’s still morning.” 

“Aw, who cares?” 

“Water would be great,” Harry cut in. 

All four men went inside the house and settled down into Bobby’s living room.  There was still tension – but it had relaxed slightly after this morning’s events.  Harry noticed the Japanese book that had held Bobby’s notes of his summer with the Winchesters was out. 

“Did Bobby show you those pictures from the night that we built the fort and watched movies?”  He said, as a way to try and break the ice. 

“He did – that was a good night.”

“The best.”

Silence. 

“Harry – we skimmed through some of the books that you gave Bobby,” Sam started, “it sounds like quite the experience you went through after you left here.” 

Harry sighed.  “It was war.”  Although he didn’t really want to, he felt it was important to ask, “Do you want to ask me questions about it?”

“We don’t have to…” Sam said, trying to give Harry an out.

“Yeah,” Dean said at the same time. 

Harry sucked in a breath.  He had been expecting questions – he was pretty amazed there hadn’t been more, especially after the interrogations he had gotten as a teenager.  “Alright, we can talk about it.  Once.  It was … a very difficult time.  Bobby, do you still have that firewhiskey I left here the other day?” 

“You drink fireball?” Dean asked, incredulous. 

“It ain’t no girly drink,” Bobby said, producing the bottle.  Harry noticed there was some missing – but not a lot.  “This is the best damn whiskey I’ve ever had.” 

Harry summoned some glasses for all.  Even though he had protested the early hour not that long ago, it didn’t stop Sam from accepting one, once it had been poured.  Harry took his like a shot – which Dean copied only to end up in a coughing fit.  Sam knocked him on the back. 

“What the hell is that?  Gasoline?” 

“Not quite – you should go light on it, it’s goblin-made, so it’s a mite strong for Muggles,” Harry warned, taking another shot himself.   “Ok, I’m ready.  What do you want to know?” 

Sam and Dean glanced at each other.  Sam went first.  “The books were light on details – how’d you win?” 

“Oi, don’t start with the easiest question of all,” Harry said sarcastically.  He let out a breath, unsure of where to start.  “There are exactly four people who know what happened that night, including myself.”

“And that was…” Dean promoted. 

“Settle in boys, this is a long one.”  He started in about what happened in what would have been his seventh year, starting with a description of horcruxes.  Most of the year was fairly easy to talk about, after all, he’d been asked a million times.  The camping in the forest, the deaths, the betrayals, the burden of the locket, and learning the path that had been set out for him.  He tried to be careful with the details, speaking as little as possible about the Hallows – not even mentioning them by name.  To their credit, the three men sat and listened, only asking clarifying questions, but allowing him to speak. 

“And so, I walked into the forest, knowing that I was going to die.  I accepted it.  I didn’t tell anyone I was going, but I couldn’t just let… Well, I went.  Actually, I got to see Mom.”  The word “mom” felt a bit foreign on his tongue, but it was how he distinguished between Mary and Lily in his head. 

“Mom as in Mary Winchester mom?” Dean asked sharply. 

“Yeah – I didn’t want to die alone, so I called her to me.  All of those I missed the most – Lily, James, Sirius and Remus too.  It wasn’t the same as bringing them back, they were coming to get me.”

“What did she say?” Sam asked, transfixed. 

Harry swallowed hard.  It didn’t seem fair that he got this last moment with Mary when Sam and Dean never had, but, at the same time, it was a deeply personal thing to admit.  He had ever told anyone what she had said before, or that she had been there.  “She said that she loved me and that she always wanted me.”

“That’s it?” Dean asked, longing for more.  

“It was all that I needed.”

There was a silent moment of shared grieving and heartache.  Those words had been exactly what Harry needed – what he had needed his entire life.  To this day, he would still watch the memory of that night, just to feel worthy of love again.  

Harry pulled himself together and finished the story.  Everything – King’s Cross, pretending to be dead, the cries of his friends, and, ultimately, Voldemort’s death at his rebounding curse. 

“And that’s it.  The war was over.  There was still a lot of work to do, but slowly, we rebuilt, and I suppose this is meant to be the ‘happily ever after,’ but it’s never really felt that way to me.  It’s been eleven years, but I have a hard time thinking that the war is over.  So, I just keep fighting.”

There were no more questions – all present knew the feeling. 

“If it’s alright with you all, I think I’ll go back to my flat and get some sleep.”  Harry stood up to leave, not really asking permission. 

“Of course, man,” Dean responded.  “But Harry – ”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

Harry smiled.  “Roger that.”  With a ‘pop’ he was gone. 

III

Finding a long-lost brother didn’t exempt Sam and Dean from their hunting duties.  They got a call of some odd deaths in Wellington, Ohio that afternoon and set out in the Impala.  The thirteen-hour drive gave them plenty of time to talk.  And argue. 

“I’m just saying Dean – he is powerful, I think he could help.”

Dean was not impressed.  “You want to pull him into this mess, after everything he’s gone through?  I think he deserves the little bit of peace that he’s got.” 

“I’m not saying that he doesn’t.  At the end of the day, was it anything more than what we’ve been through?  Hell, he’s even died.  We don’t know the full extent of his powers.  Don’t tell me you weren’t listening a little closer when he talked about the Horcruxes.”

“Just two days ago, you wanted nothing to do with the guy and now that you’ve learned that he could be… what, useful, you want to bring him into this crazy?” 

Sam locked his jaw.  “It’s his world too – maybe he doesn’t want to see it end.  What would you want, in his shoes?  He’s not like Adam, you saw him fight.  He almost took you down, with no sleep and without magic.  You should have seen how he took me down that night in the bar – I posed zero challenge.” 

Dean snorted.  “What kind of brothers would we be to ask him to help?  He’s got a life, Sam.  A girlfriend, two crazy best friends who will do anything for him.  A godson.  We’d jeopardize all of that – he has an awful lot to lose.”

“And if the world ends, he’ll lose it all anyway.  Come on Dean – at least think about it.  He said that he wanted to be our brother again, well, this is what being a Winchester brother is.” 

“Nice, Sam, real nice.”  

The annoyance on his older brother’s face was enough to get Sam to drop the subject.  For now. 

III

“Harry Potter,” Bobby spoke into the mirror, feeling very silly.  But, sure enough, it worked, the younger man’s face appearing just seconds later. 

“Bobby,” he said.  “Is everything alright?”  Neither Bobby nor his brothers had called in the last couple of days.  Granted, he had been a bit busy, pulling double-duty to make up for the day he missed. 

“Well, here’s the thing…” Bobby seemed hesitant.

“Yes?”

“I hesitate to ask you kid, but I thought maybe you could help.  Cas stopped by here earlier, he was looking for Sam and Dean but they’re not answering their phones.  I told him where they were headed, but I haven’t heard from any of them since.” 

Harry did a quick spell.  “This says they’re in Wellington, Ohio.” 

“Yeah, that’s where they said they were going.  Would you mind – could you check in on them and tell them to answer their damn phones every once in a while?”

“Of course.  Thanks for calling Bobby.”  Harry disappeared from the mirror. 

III

Harry tracked them to an abandoned warehouse just outside of the town.  The Impala was parked outside – so he knew his brothers had to be close. 

He drew his wand and entered quietly.  Sam and Dean didn’t seem any worse for wear – but they weren’t alone.  In a circle of fire stood an angel – a great deal brighter than Castiel - , that his brothers were talking to.  It didn’t appear to be a friendly chat. 

Sam was questioning the man, “So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?”

The man replied, “Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.”

“Gabriel? The archangel?”

“Guilty.”

Dean joined in the conversation, “Okay, Gabriel. How does an archangel become a trickster?”

“My own private witness protection. I skipped out of Heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Till you two screwed it all up.  Wait… not the two of you… three.  Why don’t you come on out Harry?”

Sam and Dean turned quickly to see their brother, wand drawn, standing behind them. 

“You’re unexpected, and you should not be here,” the archangel said, sounding a little panicked. 

Harry narrowed his eyes.  “Yes, Castiel told me all about how angels hate wizards.  You alright, Sam? Dean?  Bobby sent me – said you’d been missing for a couple of days.” 

“We’re fine,” Dean said gruffly.  His heart was racing – this was exactly what he didn’t want, although Sam would likely be pleased. 

“Castiel doesn’t know anything about the truth of wizards.  You need to sit this one out, Harry, for everyone’s safety,” Gabriel said, surprising everyone present.

“Was that a threat?  How do you know who I am?” Harry bristled. 

“No, it was a warning.  And, Harry, everyone in the wizarding world knows your name.  The Savior.  The Boy Who Lived.  The Chosen One.  But you’ve already done your saving, now it’s time for you to live.”  Gabriel almost sounded fond of him. 

“What do you know of the wizarding world?”

Gabriel laughed.  “What do I know of it?  I created it.  It was my garrison, my charges, that became witches and wizards and I’ve kept my brothers away from all of you.  The last words I ever spoke to my Father were on your behalf.  He allowed your creation to counter Lucifer’s demons and I’ve protected you.  If you get involved though, I can’t spare you my or your brothers’ destruction.” 

“You ditched Heaven to create your own…species?” Sam asked.

“Do you blame him? I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douchenozzles,” Dean added. 

Gabriel turned sharply to Dean, “Shut your cakehole.  You don't know anything about my family.  I love my Father, my brothers.  Love them.  But watching them turn on each other?  Tear at each other's throats?  I couldn't bear it!  Okay?  So I left.  I created my own family, my own world.  And now it's happening all over again.”

“Then help us stop it,” Sam said.

“It can't be stopped.”

“You wanna see the end of the world?  Even the one you created here on Earth?” Dean asked.

“I want it to be over!  I have to sit back and watch my own brothers kill each other thanks to you two!  Heaven, Hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it to be over.” 

“It doesn't have to be like that.  There has to be some way to … to pull the plug.”  Sam implored the angel.

Gabriel laughed.  “You do not know my family.  What you guys call the Apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner.  That's why there's no stopping this because this isn't about a war.  It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other.  And one who treats the other two worse than dirt under their shoes. You'd think you'd be able to relate.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

“You sorry sons of bitches.  Why do you think you two are the vessels?  Think about it.  Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan.  You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny!  It was always you!  As it is in Heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other.  And the third,” he said, looking at Harry, “needs to stay the fuck out of it.  Like me.”

“What the hell are you saying?” 

“Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you?  Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you.  Always.”

A long pause. Sam and Dean looked down, then at each other.

“No. That's not gonna happen.” Dean said.

“I'm sorry, but it is.  You have to admit, it’s a great cosmic joke.  Four archangels – four Winchesters.  One, silent, or, you know, in your case, dead.  The defacto youngest and eldest at each other’s throats.  I can see it in your eyes, Harry, you’ve seen these two go at it, haven’t you?  You’ve seen how destructive they are.  I bet you love it as much as I do.  If I needed a vessel, it’d be you.  You never quite took up the mantle in the way he did, but James Potter was quite the trickster, wasn’t he?  I loved that Marauder.”

“Wizards can’t be possessed,” Harry defended.  He didn’t like that this angel knew anything of James Potter. 

“Wizards can’t be possessed by demons - angels, however, were just ordered to stay away.  And why do you think you’re protected from demons?  Because I made it so, the Grace that you call magic prevents it.  You’re of the right bloodlines, both Winchester and Potter – in fact, the one I’m wearing now is your many, many times great-grandfather.  I’ve changed his face a few times, but he is your ancestor.  But don’t you worry Man-Who-Conquered, I don’t need or want your meat suit.  I want to stay out of all of it, and I strongly advise you to do the same.” 

Harry didn’t dignify that with a response.  He didn’t know the full extent of the trouble his brothers were in, but there was no way that he would stand to the side.  That’s not who he was. 

“So.  Boys.  Now what?  We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?” the archangel asked, looking around at the fire encircling him.

Dean responded, “Well, first of all, you're gonna bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him.”

“Oh am I?”

“Yeah. Or we're going to dunk you in some holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers and Castiel appeared.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean asked.

“I'm fine. Hello, Gabriel.”

“Hey, bro.  How's the search for Daddy going?  Let me guess.  Awful.”

Castiel glared at him.

“Okay, we're out of here. Come on, Sam, Harry.” Dean turned and walked away.

“Uh. Okay. Guys?” Gabriel spoke out.

Sam and Harry followed Dean.

“So, so what? Huh?”

Castiel also started to follow.

“You're just gonna leave me here forever?”

Dean stopped at the door and turned back. “No.  We're not, 'cause we don't screw with people the way you do.  And for the record?  This isn't about some prizefight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped.  This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family.”

Dean pulled the fire alarm and all four of the men left and the sprinklers rained water down in the building.  Once they were by the Impala, he spoke.  “Do you think that was the truth, what he said back there?” 

“I think he believes it,” Sam replied. 

Harry was standing slightly apart from his brothers.  “Someone needs to tell me what in Merlin’s name just happened – I only followed about half of that.  And we have another brother?” 

Dean sighed.  “Get in the car – we’ll explain on the way.” 

“On the way where?”

“To the next hunt, that’s where.”

Harry smiled.  “Yeah, let’s go.” 

III

Harry had read all of the Supernatural books that Hermione had brought over – but he had to admit that the truth was far more dynamic and gorier than what was depicted in written form. 

And the Apocalypse.  

Somehow Harry didn’t think that this was what John was envisioning when he started prepping his sons for a life of hunters, and yet, here they were. 

After the explanation, it took the middle Winchester a couple of beats to process it all.  Sam and Dean kept giving him looks from the front seat. 

“So, the next steps.  Get the Colt, then find and kill the Devil?  Where do we even start?  There is magic to locate objects, but without me knowing the specific artifact, it gets a little more complicated.  And I wonder if I could just use the killing curse on Lucifer?  I don’t like to use it – but exceptions can be made.” 

“Woah – we?” Dean asked. 

Harry frowned.  “What did you think would happen after you told me everything that was going on?”

“Uh – honestly, I thought you’d be running to the hills.  As far away from us as possible.  That’s what a sane person would do.”

“Who said I was sane?  I’m a Winchester, aren’t I?” 

“Told you, Dean,” Sam said. 

“Don’t ‘I told you so, Dean’ to me Sam.  Look, Harry, this is serious.  You could die – that’s what happens to most of our friends and family.  We told you about Adam. When the time comes, we might not be able to protect you.” 

Harry scoffed.  “I’m not asking you to protect me, Dean.  I think I can hold my own.  And I’m not scared to die, I’ve done it before, after all.” 

“Join the club, buddy,” Sam commented. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do.  I want in, I want to help.  Bobby told me what happened to John, to Dad, and I can’t help but feeling if I had been there, I could have stopped him from dying.  Reading between the lines of what Gabriel and Castiel said, my kind is built to fight demons.” 

“You blame yourself for Dad’s death?” Sam asked, surprised. 

“Well, not directly, no, but if I could have stopped him from doing a deal – if I could have gotten a medi-wizard to Dean instead of leaving him to Muggle doctors…”

Heavy silence. 

“Great, now I’ve got two of them,” Sam grumbled. 

“Hey, that’s my line!” Dean protested. 

“Two of what?” Harry asked, confused. 

“Two overly-protective, self-sacrificing, guilt-ridden older brothers,” Sam said. 

“No, that’s two reckless, overly-confident, and self-destructive younger brothers.” Dean disagreed. 

Harry grinned.  “Hey, does this mean I get to drive the Impala?  I’ve never driven a car before – well unless you count that time that Ron and I crashed the Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow, but I wasn’t technically behind the wheel…” 

Dean looked horrified and clenched the wheel of the car a little bit.  “Hell no.  Never.”

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy 

Part Three: Chapter Five – Chuck, an Offer, and the Devil

Season 5 – Episodes 9 and 10 (The Real Ghostbusters and Abandon All Hope)

They had been driving all night because of a text that Sam got from someone named Chuck.  Thankfully, it was the weekend, so Harry didn’t have to be at MACUSA. 

There was a skinny, bearded man standing at the bottom of some stairs.  Harry presumed that this was the man that had called them there. 

“Oh, hey,  guys,” he said in greeting his brothers.  “Who’s that?” he asked, and then quickly afterward, “What are you doing here?” 

Sam looked back at Harry.  He wasn’t sure how to introduce him.  Especially to a prophet.  He ignored the question.  “You sent us a text – life or death emergency and this address.” 

“No, I didn’t,” he protested.  Harry thought he looked nervous. 

“We drove all night!” Dean exclaimed. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what could…oh.” 

A young woman, with a slightly manic look in her eye that reminded Harry of his biggest “fans”, stood at the top of the stairs. 

“Sam, you made it!” 

The young woman had stolen Chuck’s cell phone to call the brothers here – for something that she was excited for them to see. 

As they entered the hotel a man came up behind them, “Hey, Dean, looking good,” he said.  The man was dressed exactly the same as the eldest Winchester.  Next to him, another man, dressed like Sam.  Harry looked around the room.  Everyone seemed to be in costume – a man in a scarecrow mask approached them and fake scared them with a scythe, the effect ruined by the soda can he had in his other hand.  There was a woman in a fake beard – dressed, like Bobby?  Demons too, everywhere. 

“What in Merlin’s name is going on?”  Harry asked, mostly himself. 

In response, Sam turned to the young woman, “Becky, what is this?”

“It's awesome!! A Supernatural convention, the first-ever.” 

Harry burst into laughter.  He understood – all these people, they were fans of the books written about Dean and Sam’s life.  This, this was gold. 

“Shut up,” Dean muttered at him, as people stared at the trio.  Harry stopped laughing, but his mind was going quickly.  They followed the crowd into a ballroom, and a man introduced Chuck as the author of the Supernatural books – Carver Endlund. 

Harry looked to his brothers, surprised.  “That’s the guy who wrote the books about you?  And you know him?” He whispered, as to not bring attention to them. 

“You know about the books?” Dean hissed.  

“Uh yeah – I’ve read every single one.  Hermione brought them to me.”

“That bitch.”

“Look, we’ll explain about Chuck later,” Sam said.  It was like a train wreck, he very much wanted to stop watching this all right now, but he couldn’t.  He didn’t even notice that Harry slipped past both of them and joined the fans until Chuck called on him to answer a question. 

“What the hell…” Dean said, “What is he doing?” 

“Hi Mr. Edlund, I only recently read all the books.  I find the brothers very compelling, tell me, in your opinion, which brother is the most handsome?  And who pulls off the flannel the best?” 

“Uh – I don’t know…”

The audience started shouting their own opinions, which sparked small arguments everywhere in the ballroom.  Harry was too busy congratulating himself to notice that Dean had come up behind him and grabbed the collar of his shirt.  His older brother proceeded to drag him out of the room, hissing, in a low, dangerous voice, “Alright, chuckles, if you can’t be helpful, you can wait out here.” 

The door closed in the wizard’s face.  Harry could have stopped Dean, but he was too busy laughing.  He had a sudden stroke of inspiration and headed to find a private place where he could change his clothes. 

III

Harry found his brothers talking to Chuck in the bar.

“He means the books, Chuck. Why are you publishing more books?” Sam was asking the small man. 

“There are going to be more books?” Harry approached the group. 

Becky, as Harry had learned her name was, glared at him.  “What, did you miss the panel?” 

Dean then noticed Harry’s new clothes.  “What are you wearing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?  I’m Harry.  Harry Spengler.”  He was wearing a band with a flashlight on his head and a fishing vest filled with gadgets.  He had a briefcase in his hands, he turned it to show Dean the logo.  It said, “Ghostfacers.”

Dean glared and turned back to Chuck, “Who gave you the rights to our life story?”

“An archangel, and I didn't want it!”

“Well, deal's off, ok? No more books. Our lives are not for public consumption,” Sam said, glancing at Becky.

“Ah…Becky. Would you excuse us for just a second?”

All four men went into a hallway. 

“Seriously, who is this guy?” Chuck asked, gesturing to Harry. 

“You don’t know?” Sam asked. 

“Would I have asked if I did?” 

The brothers looked at each other. 

“Does the name Henry Winchester mean anything to you?” Dean asked. 

“No.”

“What about Harry Potter?” Sam asked. 

Chuck gave them a blank look. 

“What was the last vision you had of us?” Sam questioned further. 

“Uh – you were with Gabriel, the archangel.” 

“Was he there?”

“No, I think I’d remember a short, British man randomly appearing,” Chuck said.

“But you can see him now?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah – he’s right here, isn’t he?  Who is he?” 

Sam sighed.  “You know, it doesn’t matter, he’s helping us out.”  He had heard what Gabriel had said, and if Harry was somehow protected from the gaze of the other archangels, including Raphael, it might be best to keep it that way.  

“Like an intern?” Chuck asked. 

Dean enjoyed that.  “Yeah, something like that.”  He gave Harry a look that dared him to contradict that statement.  Harry wisely stayed quiet.  “Hey, intern, could you go get us…”

A woman screamed upstairs, cutting off the conversation.    

III

“Dude, would you change out of that dumb outfit already?” Dean grumped at Harry.  Sam was pacing the lobby, on the phone.

“I don’t know – I’ve already gotten several compliments and three people have asked to have their pictures taken with … oh alright.”  Harry could tell when a joke had gone far enough and Dean was in no mood to be poked fun at.  He went to the restroom to change back into normal Muggle clothes.  The aim had been to diffuse some of the tension, and fine, also to get a rise out of Dean, because it was just so easy to do. 

When he returned to the lobby, Sam and Dean were talking to the men that were dressed like them. 

“Ahem, we get the Sizzler gift card,” the one dressed as Sam was negotiating. 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Fine.” 

“And we get to be Sam and Dean.”  the one dressed as Dean said. 

“What’s happening, gentlemen?” Harry asked as he approached. 

“Go away, Ghostfacer,” the one dressed as Dean growled.  Even though Harry had changed out of his costume, this man wasn’t ready to give up the game.  “This is a job for real hunters.” 

“All right. Listen here, chisel chest, okay?” Harry started, slipping back into character, much to the delight of fake Dean. 

“Would you cut that out already?” Real Dean intercepted.  “Sam, I’ll catch up with you in a second.”

Sam shrugged and started outside with the two other men.  “Yeah, sure you can be Sam and Dean,” they heard him say as they walked outside.

“You’re hilarious.  But if you’re not going to help …”

There was a chirping sound coming from Harry’s pocket.  He frowned. 

“What’s that?” Dean asked.  “I thought you couldn’t carry a cell phone.”

“I can’t.  That’s my wards going off, someone is in my flat who should not be.  Do you have everything under control here?” 

 “You mean this regular salt-n-burn?” He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I think we can handle that without any help.” 

“Good,” Harry said distractedly, and he apparated away. 

He landed in his apartment in New York.  He drew his wand.  His wards were pretty strong, anything or anyone who could get through them had to be pretty powerful. 

In the hallway, Kiwi was lying, prone on the ground.  A sudden flashback of Dobby came to the forefront of Harry’s mind, sending him into a bit of a panic.  He felt her throat, relieved that she was still breathing.  She didn’t appear to have any injuries – just stunned, so Harry carefully lifted her and placed her behind a table in his main hallway, to keep her out of danger’s way. 

He carefully approached his living room – where there was a man, back turned to him, sitting on the sofa, feet up sipping a drink. 

“Ah, Harry, I was wondering when you were going to join me,” he said, not turning around. 

“Identify yourself.  This is Head Auror Potter – you are on this property illegally.” 

“Aren’t you all high and mighty,” the man said.  He flicked his wrist and Harry went soaring against a wall, where he could now see the man’s face.  

Harry recognized him.  “Gabriel?”  He squeezed out, still pinned to the wall. 

“Right in one!  They should give you a medal – oh wait, I think they’ve already given you all of them.”

Harry could feel the magic holding him against the wall.  He calmed his mind and started working against it, slowly lowering himself to the floor. 

As the archangel went to pour himself more of (Harry’s) firewhiskey, the wizard managed to break free of the spell entirely and had his wand out and sent a stunner at the angel.  Gabriel looked up just in time to flick the spell aside with a wave of his hand.  

“My, you are a powerful one.”  He put his hands up.  “I come in peace – I just want to talk, have a seat.”

Harry glared but stayed where he was, wand at the ready.  “Why did you attack my house-elf?” 

Gabriel shrugged.  “She was putting up a fuss.  It was quite annoying.  I assure you, she’s perfectly fine, just knocked out.” 

Harry stood where he was.  He was debating what spell might be effective on an angel.

“Unless your brothers lent you some holy oil, there is very little you can do against me Harry – or do you prefer Henry?  I won’t ask again.  Sit.” 

Harry felt magic compelling him to sit.  He fought it off but chose to walk of his own volition to the armchair across from the archangel. 

Gabriel seemed surprised.  “It’s been some time since I’ve had contact with the wizarding world – I’d heard of you, of course, but you are far more powerful, magically, than your reputation states.” 

Harry crossed his arms.  “Did you come here to test my magical abilities?” 

“No, I didn’t.  You and I have a lot to discuss.”

“Do we?” 

“Yes.  Your place is not here, it’s in the wizarding world, which has always been separate from the world of hunters.  I mean, two different versions of each monster?  That’s beyond ridiculous.”

“And the Apocalypse?  Am I safe from that in my separate world?  My friends there, won’t they die just the same as the Muggles?”

“That wouldn’t have to be the case, no.”

That caught Harry’s attention. 

“I didn’t want to say it in front of the Winchesters, but the wizarding world actually stands a chance.  As I said, this isn’t your fight.  My brothers haven’t shown any interest in your kind – ever.  I don’t see why this would have to change.”

“So, they will wipe out half the world – just not the wizarding part of it?” Harry asked, incredulously.

“I’m not saying that no wizards would die, but the carnage wouldn’t be great.  After all, if either Heaven or Hell wins, your kind would still be useful.  You are descended from angels.  Michael may restore your people’s full Grace and welcome you back into Heaven’s fold.  Lucifer will see himself in your fallen status, but not as disgusting as the demons he created to punish our Father and humans.  Your people would be a natural ally – especially those pureblood supremacists who swear off all things Muggle.”

“And you know this for a fact?”

“Well, you see, young Harry, unlike you, I know my brothers.”

That stung.  “And why is that?  You say that your brothers haven’t shown interest in wizards.  Why did one possess John to get rid of me then?”

“My brothers aren’t interested in wizards – but they are quite concerned with the Winchesters.  Unfortunately, you happen to fall into both categories.”

Harry still didn’t look convinced, so Gabriel tried a different tactic, “Let me tell you a little story.  Once upon a time, there were four brothers.  As close as brothers could be.  Sure, they had their share of arguments as brothers do, especially the first two.  The eldest took on all the responsibility and kept everyone else in line.  The next was a bit of a rebel – argued with his father, but the old man saw something in the kid, and he was the favorite.  The third, was a peacemaker, always trying to bring his arguing brothers together with humor.  And, yeah, sure, maybe played some jokes so they wouldn’t take themselves so seriously.  By the time the fourth one came around, dad just didn’t have as much time for his boys, so it was left to the other three to raise him.  We loved each other.  But then things started going too far.  Arguments turned into wars and nothing Raphael and I did could keep Michael and Lucifer from each other’s throats, and Daddy wasn’t playing the ref anymore.  Michael and Lucifer shut us out, neither of them trusting the two of us not to take the other’s side.  Losing my brothers’ trust broke my heart and I had to leave.  Now they are determined to destroy each other, and, trust me, there’s no point in trying to stop it.”

He stopped speaking for a second, to allow the story to sink in.  But Gabriel knew that, despite his legal name, this was a Winchester in front of him, so he’d have to hit him over the head with the point. “Sam and Dean don’t trust you, Harry, even less so than my brothers trusted me, so why stick your neck out for them?  I can save you the heartache that comes with the realization that there is no place for you in your brothers’ lives.  Why risk the wrath of Heaven or Hell?  Sit back, and I’ll advocate for wizards with whichever brother comes out on top.” 

“And, what, I should ignore that this fight would kill either Sam or Dean and possibly both?” Not to mention the fact that if Lucifer and Michael hadn’t trusted Gabriel then, they were hardly likely to consult him now, Harry thought to himself.

“Yep.  You’ve lived this long without them.  You got what – two months with them fourteen years ago?  You can’t truly care about them.  Not like you care for your wizarding family.  Marry Ginny.  Have kids – two or three, name them after James and Lily – maybe the third after your beloved godfather, Sirius, now that guy, he had a sense of humor.  His pranks, legendary.  In fact, I’ll sweeten the deal.  If you never speak with Sam and Dean again, I’ll bring one of them back.  Your children would have a paternal grandparent.” 

“You could do that?” 

“Of course!  I’m an archangel after all.  And the Winchesters have been brought back how many times now?  I’ll just fire up my resurrection machine, one parental figure returned to you.  I like you, Harry, I really do, you’re everything I was hoping for from my fallen garrison.  It’s been a long time since I’ve taken a wizard under my wing, so-to-speak, I could teach you magic beyond your wildest imagination.” 

Harry didn’t respond to that.  He was wary of anyone offering him back a parent and power at the same time.  

“I can see that you’re thinking about it.  You don’t need to decide today, I’ll let it stew a bit.  But this is a limited time offer.  I trust you’ll make the right choice.”

He disappeared. 

Harry felt like he needed to take about five showers.  Instead, he pulled out his mirror.  “Ronald Weasley,” he spoke. 

It didn’t take long for his best friend to appear.  It never did. 

“Harry.  Alright, mate?”

“Yeah, look, do you have a moment?”

“Sure, we were just closing up here.  Do you want me to come over? Or is this a mirror chat?”

“If you can get away, come over.  Please don’t bring Hermione.  But maybe grab George?  I need some advice about brothers.” 

“Well, George and I certainly have plenty of ‘em.  Give me twenty?”

“Yeah, great.” 

In those twenty minutes, Harry revived a very distressed Kiwi.  He assured her that he wasn’t angry and instructed her, in the future, should there be an intruder to just leave the apartment as quickly as possible.  He didn’t want any more house-elves dying for him.  He sent the tearful house-elf to rest off the trying day. 

Almost twenty minutes on the dot (punctuality taught to him by his wife) Ron and George arrived in New York.  Harry was already two drinks in. 

“You know Harry, you’ve been hitting the bottle hard recently, maybe you should …” Ron started.

“Piss off,” Harry replied as he finished his third drink. 

“Alright, alright, I will, for now.  Just know Hermione and I are quite worried.”

Harry laughed dryly.  “Yes, I know all about Hermione and her concern.” 

“Come on Harry, you know she means well.”

“I do,” he admitted, grudgingly.

“Good – you need to call her after we leave today.  She keeps going off and I don’t know how much more I can take of it.” 

“Fine.  But she better not threaten my brothers again.  They don’t need any more enemies.”  Noticing that George did not react to that comment, Harry continued, “You’ve filled him in then?”

“Yeah – figured I may need to be leaving the shop more often than usual.”

“Good,” Harry said with approval.

There was silence while Ron and George waited for him to continue.  Harry wasn’t sure where to start. 

“I’m struggling a bit here, I don’t know how to be a brother, and mine are in some very dangerous trouble.  I guess I’m looking for advice?”

George burst out laughing. 

“What?” Harry asked.

“I’m sorry, but you have brothers in dangerous trouble?  That’s just the cosmos paying you back for all the trouble you’ve been in over the years.  Trouble that Ron here always seemed to be right in the middle of with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, almost automatically. ”I should have realized how stressful it must have been to have your brother involved in my life.” 

“Harry, mate, it wasn’t just Ron that stressed us all out, it was you, too.  I know you haven’t officially married in yet, but even if you don’t, you’re a Weasley.  We all worried about both of you.  Well, maybe not Percy for a little bit, but he was a prat.” 

“Oh.”

“Also, it’s complete rubbish, you not knowing how to be a brother.  You’ve been a brother to Hermione and me since we were eleven.  Better brother than this git,” Ron said, gesturing to George. 

“Hey – Fred and I bought you new dress robes!” George protested.

“With Harry’s money,” Ron shot back.  “Why don’t you tell us what this is all about.”

Harry gave them an overview of the situation, trying to keep details to a minimum, as to not expose them to danger. 

“He offered to spare the wizarding world if you allowed your brothers to die?” Ron asked. 

“Yeah.”

Ron snorted.  “He doesn’t know you at all.” 

“I did just meet him.”

“Still – you said he knew who you were.  You weren’t considering the offer, were you?”

“No, of course not.  But I do want him to think that I am.”

“Why Harry, that’s positively Slytherin on your part.” George complimented. 

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically. 

“Well gentlemen, while it’s mid-afternoon here, it is getting quite late back home and some of us have jobs that we have to show up to in order to get paid,” George said, looking pointedly at Harry. 

“Not if you’re just an investor,” Harry responded with a wink, but got up to walk his friends over to the portkey spot. 

“Don’t you forget to call Hermione,” Ron reminded Harry.  “I’ll never hear the end of it until you do.”

“I will, promise.” 

They were about to leave.  “Oh, and Harry?” Ron said as put his hand on the portkey.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.  For Mum’s sake, if nothing else.”

They left.

III

“Okay. But it's a stupid frigging idea,” Dean said as Harry apparated into the room.

“What’s a stupid idea?” he asked.

Guns were immediately pointed at the middle Winchester brother when he spoke, by two women he didn’t know.  He just ignored them – his wards were strong enough. 

“Ellen, Jo, it’s fine,” Sam said.  “He’s our –”

“Our intern,” Dean finished Sam’s sentence.  “A friend,” he elaborated.    

The two women put their guns down. 

“Since when do you have an intern?” Ellen asked. 

“Oh, it was pretty recent,” Dean said.  “We knew him as kids – he spent a summer with us here, isn’t that right, Bobby?” 

Bobby looked up from the camera he was fiddling with for a second.  “Yeah.  That’s Harry.” 

“What is he?  Some kind of angel?”

Harry bristled, but so did Castiel, who was standing in the corner of the room. 

“No,” the two said at the same time.

Sam looked at them both.  “I mean … kinda, right?” 

“He’s a wizard,” Dean deadpanned. 

“And you’re ok with that?” Jo asked, looking like she wanted to grab her gun again. 

“Yeah – it’s different from witches.  No demon deals.  100% natural magic-user.  It’s weird, I know.  Harry, this is Ellen and Jo, Ellen and Jo, meet Harry.” 

Ellen stared at him.  “He looks awful familiar.  Have I met you before?” 

“I think I would remember meeting a woman as beautiful as yourself,” Harry replied with what he imagined was a dashing British smile.  He wasn’t wrong – but Ellen had owned a bar and was immune to such looks.  But there was something about that smile… but surely not, he was far too short. 

“A charmer, huh?  And British, if I’m not mistaken?”

“That’s right miss – raised at least.  My parents were American.” 

“Were?”

“Yeah, Harry’s parents died around the same time as ours,” Sam said.  Dean shot him a look. 

“Harry, can I talk to you in the other room?” the eldest Winchester asked. 

Harry shrugged, “Sure.”

Dean moved to an area where they would be out of earshot of the others.  “What are you doing here?”

Harry looked surprised.  “Sam called and filled me in.”

“He told you what we’re doing?”

“Yeah, killing the Devil, or trying, at least.” 

He said it with such nonchalance that Dean was seriously concerned about Harry’s mental health.  “You know this is a suicide mission, right?  This is our walking into the woods.  We don’t expect to come out the other side.  We’re trying this because this is our only option, our last resort.” 

“I know.  But I couldn’t live with myself knowing the plan and not helping.  If either of you died and I think that I could have prevented it…”

 “Sam and I have both died before when you weren’t there to help, why is this time any different?”  Dean asked harshly.  

Harry flinched.  If it weren’t the end of the world, Dean would have felt bad. 

“I can’t do anything about before.  I can do something about now,”  Harry said, stubbornly. 

“Look, man, you’re an adult.  And a war veteran.  I’d be a fool to try and stop you, we need all the help we can get.  But you’re still my younger brother and I won’t be able to watch your back on this one.  You’ll be on your own if and when the shit hits the fan.” 

Reading between the lines, Harry knew this meant Sam came first.  It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did, just a little.  The wizard clenched his jaw. 

“I understand.”

Dean looked at him intensely in the eyes and nodded.  “Alright.  Come get a beer.”  He turned to leave the room. 

“Wait, Dean.”

He stopped. 

“What’s with this intern crap?  I get that you were taking the piss before, but…”

“If we die tomorrow, which, in all likelihood we will, but you get out, it’s safer that you’re not associated with us.  If Sam and I die, I want you to forget that you know the name Winchester and stay the hell away from anything in this world.  You can just go about your merry little wizard way.” 

Dean didn’t give him a chance to argue, just walked into the kitchen to grab Harry a beer.  

III

Most of the car ride to Carthage was filled with tense silence.  Harry rode with his brothers – Castiel with Jo and Ellen.  Before they left, Harry had provided everyone, including Bobby who was staying behind to research, with mirrors for communication.  They had also done some experimenting.  Not even Cas could see Harry when he was under his invisibility cloak.  There hadn’t been much time or energy for questions about the cloak itself, although both Sam and Dean made mental notes to ask about it if they lived through all of this.

As they rolled into town, it was very quiet.  It seemed that none of the Muggles were able to get reception on their cell phones – so it was a good thing that they all had mirrors. 

The three brothers went to check out the police station.  Harry had his head stuck in a book – he was trying to read up on demon and devil lore to catch himself up.  It wasn’t until they were headed back into town that he looked up.

“Dean, watch out!” he shouted. 

His brother swerved.  “What the hell?  Don’t scare me like that.”

“You were going to hit that man.  I thought you said this town was empty?”

Dean and Sam exchanged looks.  “It is, there is no one here,” Sam said. 

“What are you talking about?  There are men and women – in dark coats, everywhere.  They’re just … standing there.”  If the car got close enough to one, the person shifted slightly out of the way.  They parked and Harry got out of the car.  He approached an elderly gentleman and tapped him on the shoulder.  “Excuse me, sir, what’s going on?” 

The man ignored him. 

“Does your intern see the Reapers?” Ellen asked. 

“There are Reapers?” Dean asked, glancing around widely.

“Yeah, Cas went after them,” she replied.

“Harry, who are you talking to?” Sam asked. 

“I’m trying to talk to these people – but they are all ignoring me.” 

“How many of them are there?” Dean asked. 

“Hundreds – they are all over the place.  Do you really not see them?  What are they?”

“They’re Reapers, we think,” Sam answered.  “Reapers are angels that help humans pass to the other side when they die.  They are invisible to us - we can’t see them at all.”

That gave Harry an idea.  He pulled out his invisibility cloak and put it on.  As soon as the Deathly Hallow engulfed him, all of the Reapers turned sharply to stare at him.  It was super creepy. 

“Master of Death,” one said, bowing his head slightly. 

“Err, guys, they’re all staring at me now.” The group heard from the invisible man. 

“What are they saying?” Dean asked.

“Nothing,” Harry lied.  “Just looked at me, and if I move past, they –”

“There you are.”  Everyone whipped around.  A woman was standing in the middle of the street.  She was young, with dark hair.  But Harry could tell that this wasn’t a regular woman – there was something… off about her face.  On either side of her were huge three-headed dogs.  Far more vicious and angrier looking than Fluffy. 

“Dean – ” Harry started, trying to warn his brother. 

“Shut it,” he whispered back urgently, “she can’t see you, don’t let her hear you either.”

“Meg,” Sam said. 

Not that anyone could see, but Harry’s eyes widened.  He had read about this demon. 

“Shouldn’t have come here, boys,” she said. 

“Hell, I could say the same thing to you,” Dean said to her, pointing the Colt in her direction. 

“Didn't come here alone, Deano.”  One of the dogs splashed and growled. 

“Hellhounds,” Dean said.  It was the most scared that Harry had ever heard his brother sound.

“Yeah, Dean.  Your favorite.  Come on, boys.  My father wants to see you.”

That sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.  As quietly as he could, he pulled out his wand.

“I think we’ll pass, thanks,” Sam quipped. 

“Your call,” the demon replied, “You can make this easy or you can make it really, really hard.”

Dean looked back at Ellen, who nodded in confirmation. 

“When have you known us to ever make anything easy?”  He shot at the dog.  Harry was prepared and cast a silent, “stupefy” at the same time.  Blood spurted out of the dog, but it wasn’t from the spell, it was from a gunshot and the beast didn’t go down. 

“Run!” Sam yelled.  The whole group ran and as the dogs made chase.  One of them tackled Dean before Harry could get to him, Jo was at his side, shooting at the beasts.  None of the spells that Harry was shooting at them were doing anything but slowing them for half a second.  A second one came up and swiped at Jo’s side, sending her toppling to the ground. 

“No!” Ellen cried.

Sam and Ellen started shooting at the dogs as Dean scooped Jo up and ran into the closest store, Harry followed them closely and helped Sam chain the door, adding some wards to the building to prevent the dogs from getting inside.  Dean grabbed the salt and poured it out on all the entrances while Ellen was trying to help Jo. 

“Some help, boys?” she asked.  Harry took off his cloak.  He didn’t know much healing magic – just the field basics.  He cast a couple of spells, but the bleeding was just too bad. 

“Is that all you got?” Ellen asked. 

“Yeah – it should hold her over until we can get her to a hospital.” 

Dean had gone a little way off to talk to Bobby on his mirror. 

“Look at me, Jo,” Harry said to the bleeding woman on the floor.  She looked up.

“Your eyes – ” she said like she was seeing them for the first time. 

“Yeah, I have my mother’s eyes, everyone always says.  Jo, I need you to focus, how bad is the pain?” 

“I can’t move my legs,” she whispered. 

Harry knew that wasn’t good.  Magical healing didn’t always work well on Muggles – and he was afraid to try too much more for worry that he would make the situation worse. 

“You’re going to be just fine, Jo.” 

“I don’t think…”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  Sam, come sit with her,” Harry ordered.  The authority in his voice made Sam listen immediately. 

“I’m going to take care of the hellhounds,” he said as he strode towards the door. 

“Harry – no!” Sam protested.  “They’ll kill you.  I saw the flashes of light earlier.  Your spells weren’t working.”

“I’m just going to have to use different spells then, aren’t I?”

He apparated outside.  The barking got louder and the dogs started to circle him.  “Avada Kedavra,” he said, thinking about how hurt Jo was inside and conjuring as much hate as he could to be able to perform the spell.  The beast that got hit with the spell fell immediately to the ground dead.  He repeated it for each dog until they were all dead.  The demon, Meg, was nowhere to be seen, although he would have happily killed her as well.  He disapparated back into the store. 

Jo didn’t look any better than she had before – Ellen was at her side. 

“Now we know where the Devil's gonna be, we know when, and we have the Colt,” Dean was saying.

“Yeah. We just have to get past eight or so hellhounds and get to the farm by midnight.”

“The hellhounds are taken care of,” Harry said.  Everyone turned towards him. 

“You got rid of them?” Dean asked. 

“Do you hear any barks or growls?”

“No.”

“They’re dead.  And I did a quick sweep, there aren’t anymore.  Didn’t see Meg anywhere though, so I wasn’t able to kill her.” 

Dean looked at him with astonishment.  “You just killed eight hellhounds in five minutes?”  He didn’t know if he should feel relieved or scared.  

Harry shrugged.  “Yeah, although I think there were about a dozen of them.  I didn’t exactly count.  The only curse I could get to work on them was Avada Kedavra.” 

Dean decided that he could work out exactly how powerful this brother of his was later – there were far more important matters at hand.  “Alright, we need to get Ellen and Jo the hell out of town then.”

Jo looked like she was about to protest before Harry said, “I can apparate them to a hospital – one a safe distance away.  I’ll come back right away.” 

“Is it safe?” Ellen asked.  

“Mom, it’s gotta be safer than staying here,” Jo said. 

“It is…unpleasant, but with the minor repairs I was able to make, she should survive it,” Harry said, not wanting to promise too much.  Jo didn’t look like she had much more time for this world. 

“Go, now,” Dean said.  “We’ll be fine, just hurry back.”

“Got it.”  Harry carefully lifted Jo from the floor and put his hand on Ellen’s shoulder.

Harry picked a hospital about two hours away from the site – so that it wasn’t already inundated with injured Muggles from the apocalypse omens. 

“Help!” he yelled as he ran into the emergency room.  “I have a woman in critical condition.”

When the staff saw the blood (and Jo was passed out in his arms) they hopped into action as quickly as possible.  Ellen ran after them, but before she did, she turned to Harry. 

“Get back to the boys – they need all the help they can get.”

“Got it.” 

Harry was exhausted.  The combination of the killing curses and apparating with two additional people took a lot of power.  He was slightly concerned about his magical core, but he wasn’t about to leave his brothers high and dry as they faced the Devil.  He walked a little way into some woods behind the hospital so that he wouldn’t be spotted by Muggles.

He got ready to go but found that he… couldn’t.  He shook his head a little.  It would be embarrassing if he couldn’t muster up the power to get back to Carthage.  He tried again.  Nothing.  It was almost as if – no.  There seemed to be an anti-apparition ward up around him.  He groaned. 

Sure enough, there was a contingent of about fifteen MACUSA Aurors who rounded the corner.  They all looked deadly serious.  He held up his hands to show that he wasn’t a threat.  However, before he had a chance to explain anything, he was hit with a silencing spell.

“Henry Winchester,” they said.  “You are under arrest for performing twelve unforgivable curses, for doing so in front of No-Majs and…” the Auror looked at him, recognizing his scar, “And for impersonating British Head Auror Potter.” 

Before he had the chance to defend himself or fight back, he was hit with a stunner.  

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Three: Chapter Six – Harry Hunting

Season 5

“Thanks, Ellen,” Bobby said as he got off the phone.  The boys looked at him expectantly.  “She says that it was real close with Jo – and she’s not out of the woods yet, but it’s looking good.” 

There was a collective sigh of relief. 

“Did she say anything about Harry?” Dean asked. 

“She said that he dropped them off, made sure that Jo was being taken care of before she sent him back to you.”

Sam shook his head.  “We never saw him.  And he’s not answering his mirror.” 

“Do you think Lucifer got to him?”

“Doubtful,” Castiel responded to Dean’s question. 

“And why is that?  He took you didn’t he?” Dean demanded. 

“He did.  But angels – all angels – are forbidden from interfering with wizards.”

Dean looked at Cas like he was crazy.  “… and since when does the Devil care about what is forbidden?”

Cas looked at Dean with a blank expression, per usual.  “If Lucifer has him, he’s dead.”

A chill settled over the room.  They weren’t ready to believe that. 

“You can’t find him, Cas?” Sam asked. 

“I could.  But I won’t.” 

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?  This is our brother, Cas!” Dean pounded his fist on a table.  “He saved Jo.  Could this have something do to with the Reapers?”

“Why would the Reapers care anything about him?” Cas asked. 

“I don’t know – he could see them, but they wouldn’t talk to him…”

“He should not have been able to see the Reapers.”  The angel looked quite concerned. 

“So, that’s not just a normal wizard thing?” Sam asked.

“No.  I must go.” Cas left.

Dean threw his hands up in the air.  “Oh, great, useful as always.” 

“Let’s look at this like we would if we were looking for anyone,” Sam suggested.  “Bobby, do you have any information on how to find wizards?”

Bobby shook his head.  “I’ve looked for them before – when I found the evidence after our memories were wiped and nothin’.  They are a shady group, extremely secretive.”

“What do we know about him?” Sam asked, sitting at his computer, thinking about what they could try and look up.  They tried internet searches for every name that he had dropped.  Hermione Granger-Weasely, Ron Weasley, even Hogwarts, and Dumbledore, but nothing came up.  They didn’t have access to criminal records in the UK in the same way that they had hacked the US system, so that made it difficult to find much of anything.

“Man can’t use a computer you idjits, remember that one he blew up at the local library?  His kind of magic and technology don’t mix.” 

Dean sighed.  “Books, then?”  He usually preferred to leave the book research to Sam and Bobby, but he just had a feeling that something major had happened to Harry.  Before they had left, Dean had let the middle brother know that he came second to the youngest.  Although the man had accepted it, Dean still felt bad about both the fact and that he had had to express it.  He felt like he owed it to Harry to look for him now.  

Sam had already skimmed the books that Harry had given Bobby.  They mostly dealt with his history, not his present.  But maybe he had missed something. 

Hours later and no one felt like they had gotten anywhere.  “This is useless,” Sam said.

“Sam, finding books useless?  Wow, we must be in the middle of the Apocalypse.”

Sam glared. 

Bobby closed the book he had been reviewing.  He had come to the same conclusion.  “If it’s not in the lore, we should look at what we’ve seen.  You’ve both spent some time with him.  Think, what has he said or mentioned that could help us find him?” 

Dean thought.  “He can hold his liquor.”  That was quite the compliment from him.

Sam snorted.  “Yeah, that’s helpful.  The night he revealed himself to me in the bar, MACUSA Aurors came, but as soon as they realized who he was, it was like the President was in the room.  He had broken the law, but as soon as they found out who he was, it didn’t matter in the least.  It was a little creepy.” 

“You’d think someone so rich and famous would be easier to track,” Dean commented. 

Bobby’s eyes widened.  “He is rich, how else would he have been able to support the two of you jackasses.”  He looked at Dean, “You have to go play poker.” 

Dean was taken aback.  “My brother could be dead, we have an apocalypse on our hands and you’re suggesting that I go gamble?” 

Sam caught on a bit quicker.  “Bobby, you said that he had been fixing Dean’s games for years, right?”

“Yeah – and how exactly do you think he’s been doin’ that?” 

“Magic?” Sam asked as if it was obvious.

“Yeah, magic, but I think someone would have had to be there.  Remember that day in the motel room, Dean, when he showed up because he had heard that you were in trouble?  It wasn’t me that told him.”

“He has us watched?” Dean asked, feeling a little dirty. 

“Think so.  By some pretty savvy people, if you haven’t noticed all these years.  Hell – he mentioned having an Impala division to take care of your speeding tickets.” 

“I’ve never even been pulled over,” Dean scoffed. 

Bobby gave him a significant look. 

“Oh.  You think that was him too?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re suggesting that Dean goes to gamble and … what?  We’ve never noticed anyone before, so I don’t know why this would be any different,” Sam said. 

“You weren’t exactly lookin’ before, were you?” 

The brothers took a second to consider. 

“Huh, guess not,” Dean said.  “I’m hardly one to complain about a casino.  Where’s the closest one?”

III

Chelsea Parks enjoyed her job.  It was… unconventional, even by wizarding world standards.  Strictly speaking, she was pretty sure it was illegal, but her boss had assured that should she ever get in trouble with MACUSA that their employer would take care of any charges.  So far, she hadn’t been caught.  It was a two-year contract that kept her on call 24/7.  The pay more than compensated for it and, at the end of the two years, if she had done a good job (and she prided herself on a job done well), she would walk away with a good bit of cash and connections that give her entry into jobs not as readily open to those such as herself. 

Chelsea was born to No-Maj parents.  At Ilvermorny, that hadn’t meant a thing, but, in reality, the wizarding world was small.  The best jobs, or even just ok-ish jobs all went to students with connections.  Connections that were only possible when one had parents in the community.  This job, however, required that the applicants be intimately familiar with No-Majes with the ability to blend in.  That knocked most pure and half-bloods out of the running.  She had been recruited by a Horned Serpent graduate who she had met briefly at Ilvermorny. 

Chelsea had just been getting ready to go out with her boyfriend when her ward went off – the Impala had parked in a casino in her territory.  She sighed; duty called.  She sent a quick Patronus off to Robert, who would be disappointed, but would understand.  The good news was that her makeup was already done and she just had to change from her magical going out outfit into her No-Maj one. 

She did one last check on her appearance (well-dressed, but not flashy) before apparating to the casino.  Wizards and witches normally wouldn’t go to such places – ripping off No-Majes was very illegal and could result in a good amount of prison time.  However, since her only financial gain from this enterprise was her salary, there was a bit of a loophole. 

Sure enough, minutes after arriving, in walked Dean Winchester.  He had his brother, Sam, with him, as well as their family friend Bobby, who was in a wheelchair.  

Dean was handsome.  She found watching him an unexpected perk of the job.  Sam wasn’t bad either, but he didn’t require as much looking after.  He was much better at all the card games. 

“My name is Dean Winchester and I would like $50,000 in chips.” The elder Winchester said as he swaggered over to the cashier.  The announcement had been quite loud, which Chelsea found strange.  Maybe he was already drunk.  Also, $50,000 was a lot of money – this would be a lot more paperwork on her part.  It was also strange that he was in a casino, the brothers tended to prefer to gamble in the back of seedy bars. 

Dean sat at a Blackjack table.  The one with a $2500 minimum.  Chelsea sighed, he had to be drunk, and that meant that she would have to be extra careful. 

He sat down casually and started loudly introducing himself to everyone at the table.  Chelsea was one table over. 

“Hi there,” he said to the dealer.  “I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam.”

“Dean, shut up,” Sam hissed. 

He just grinned and held out his hand to each person at the table.  “I’m Dean, nice to meet you,” he said.  “Dean Winchester,” he added. 

Chelsea frowned slightly.  This was very odd behavior.  The brothers usually used aliases when gambling.

She decided that he would lose his first-round – losing upfront often made him bet more conservatively. 

He was dealt a King and a Jack.  “Hit me,” he said. 

“Are you sure?” the dealer asked. 

“Yeah, hit me,” he repeated, gesturing by hitting the table with his finger.  Chelsea flicked her wand carefully under the table.  He was dealt a five.  A bust.  Sam was playing quietly next to him.  He had been dealt an ace and a nine and he wisely held and won the bet.  She hadn’t had to interfere there.  Thankfully, Bobby wasn’t in her charge, so she didn’t have to worry about his hand. 

The dealer dealt again – this time Dean put in $10,000.  ‘Idiot,” she thought.  He was dealt an eight and a six next.  She didn’t want to take any chances, so when he hit he got a seven.  Blackjack.

He was being very reckless tonight.  Several times she had had to change the dealer’s hidden card, which was trickier than changing what was in Dean’s hand. 

And the gambling continued.  Dean eventually moved onto poker, then craps, and roulette.  It had been hours and he was up the max amount allowed in her regulations.  Finally, late into the evening, he moved onto the slot machines.  An odd ending to an odd evening. 

She watched the Winchester brothers and Bobby leave the casino before heading out herself.  As she exited, she felt a quick, sharp pain on the back of her neck and then, nothing. 

III

Dean, Sam, and Bobby had the woman tied up in Bobby’s safe room.  They had taken her wand – although when Dean had tried to pick it up the first time it blasted him back.  The second time they used a pair of tongs, which seemed to protect them.  Going through her pockets, they hadn’t found any communication devices. 

Slowly, she awoke.  As she came to awareness a look of fear crossed her face. 

“Wha – what is happening?”

“You have some information that we need,” Dean said with a touch of hardness. 

“What makes you think that?”  She was trying to stall for time.  Wandless magic wasn’t her strong suit, but she knew that with enough determination, she should be able to get out of this situation with magic.  But she also knew that these were dangerous men – even if they were No-Majes.

“You followed me all night.  Table to table – and I won, a lot, but not more than double my initial buy-in.  We know you’re a witch.  And if you cooperate, we’ll let you go.”

“A what?”

“Don’t play dumb with us.  We have your wand,” Sam said, pointing to her wand on a table across the room.  Chelsea gulped.  And she had always thought that Sam was the nice one. 

“What do you want with me?”

The three exchanged looks.  “We’re trying to find someone,” Bobby finally said. 

“Who?  I don’t know many No-Majes.” 

“We’re not looking for a No-Maj.  We’re looking for a wizard, your employer.”

“My employer is a woman.  She’s a Squib. Is that why you’re looking for her?”

“I don’t know what a Squib is,” Dean said.  “But we’re not looking for a woman.  We’re looking for Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter?” She laughed.  They looked at her seriously.  “You think I know Harry Potter?  You think that I work for him?  We don’t all know each other, you know.” 

“He’s missing.  We need to find him.”

“Harry Potter is missing?” She scoffed.  “You’re No-Majes, you shouldn’t even know that name, much less if he’s missing or not.”  

Dean was done playing nice.  He pulled out a knife and held it to the girl’s neck since he didn’t think a gun would scare her.  “We haven’t heard from him in days.  Now.  We know you work for him.  Where. Is. He?” 

She started crying, the situation was finally just too overwhelming.  “I don’t know!  Please, believe me, I’ve never met Harry Potter.  Why would I have?  And how?  I’ve never been to England before and I’m not an Auror.” 

Dean believed her. 

“Balls,” Bobby said.  “We’re tormenting some poor girl for no reason.”

“But you were hired to watch us, right?” Dean asked. 

Her training had been strict about never making contact with the Winchesters, but it certainly wasn’t worth her life to follow all the procedures outlined in the manual. 

“Yeah – but not by Harry Potter.  And I’ve never hurt you!  I just go to wherever you are gambling and… well, I make sure that you come out on top.  I don’t know why!  I’m just following orders.” 

“Why would someone hire you to do that?”

“I don’t know – I don’t ask questions, I just do as I’m told.  Please, let me go,” she begged. 

Dean looked like he was going to go off on her again, but Sam put a hand on his arm.

“I don’t think she knows anything Dean.  I’m sorry, miss, we don’t know your name.”

“Chelsea,” she responded. 

“Chelsea,” he repeated, “Chelsea, if Harry Potter had died, would you know?”

Her eyes widened.  “Yes.  The whole world would know.  Maybe even No-Majes like yourself.  If we lost Harry Potter – it would be like… like if Mother Theresa, Bono, and Obama were all one person and that person died.”

“Thank you, Chelsea.  We’re going to let you go now.”  He went over to undo the ropes.  Dean looked like he might stop him, but didn’t.  “I apologize – we just really need to find him.  Would you tell your boss for us?” 

Chelsea had no idea what these No-Majes could want with Harry Potter, but she doubted it was anything good.  She would certainly report all of this to Kayla, with her letter of resignation.  Once she was untied, she darted for her wand and disapparated.

III

“Well, at least we know he’s not dead,” Sam said. 

“Do we, though?” Dean asked back. 

“Well, that girl – she seemed to think…”

“He could be dead and they don’t know it yet.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” Sam asked.  “We hardly know the guy.  For all we know, he ran to the hills instead of coming back.  If he doesn’t want to be found, we won’t be able to find him.” 

“Are you kidding?  Sam, this is our brother and you don’t give a rat’s ass about if he’s alive or not?  While he was trying to help us clean up our mess?  I gave him an out.  He didn’t take it.  I refuse to believe that after saving Jo’s bacon that he went coward.  Something happened.”

Sam shrugged.  “If you say so.”

“What is your deal, man?  You’ve been rough on him since he got back.” 

“I don’t have a deal,” Sam said defensively, cementing in Dean’s mind that he did.  He gave Sam a look.  So did Bobby.  “Fine.  That summer – he made me a promise.  And then dumped me.” 

“What did he promise you?” Dean asked. 

Sam hesitated. 

“Go on, what did a fifteen-year-old with the world on his shoulders, promise you Sam?” Bobby interjected, his tone making it obvious that he was not impressed.  

“He said that no matter what path I chose, be that a normal life or hunting one, he would be there for me.  No one had ever said that to me before, okay?  And he wasn’t.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean asked venomously.  “You always get on me for not getting over you leaving and your problem is… what, that he didn’t come back and ‘save’ you from Dad and me?  That’s fucked up, Sam.” 

Part of Sam knew that.  But he couldn’t stop thinking about how different his life could have been. 

“Plus, he helped, didn’t he – where would you be if someone didn’t pay for Stanford?  I don’t remember you mentioning having a job.  That scholarship covered everything, didn't it?”

Sam turned red and clenched his jaw, stubbornly. 

“That’s what I thought.  Look, Sammy, addin’ another brother to the gang wasn’t in my plans, but I think Harry has what it takes.  I don’t know how we would have gotten past the hellhounds without him.  We can depend on him to have our backs - if he’s not dead, that is - and this is what Dad would have wanted.” 

“If you two are done talkin’ about your feelings like two teenage girls at a slumber party, we have a visitor,” Bobby said, looking at the window.  

The brothers turned, ready to pull out their guns.  But instead, they saw a large barn owl, perched just outside of Bobby’s kitchen window.  They weren’t sure if an owl could have such an expression, but this one seemed impatient. 

“Is that some kind of demon owl?” Dean asked, dumbly. 

“No, you moron, it’s a mail owl,” Bobby said.  “Wizards use owls to send letters to each other.” 

Sam and Dean looked mystified, although Sam thought he remembered Harry explaining that at some point when they were kids. 

“Well, are one of you idjits going to let that bird in?”

Sam shook his head slightly and opened the window.  The owl swooped in and landed on the kitchen table. 

Dean looked at it, slightly freaked out.  “What now?” he whispered to Sam. 

The owl heard him and stuck out his leg, where a letter was tied.   

Sam rolled his eyes. “You aren’t afraid of a bird, are you Dean?”

“No,” Dean replied, a little too quickly. 

Sam went over and untied the letter.  The owl flew off, making Dean duck. 

Sam opened the letter and read it aloud.  “Dear Messrs. Winchester,” he started.  “This letter is to discourage you from kidnapping any other members of the wizarding community.  I was able to calm Ms. Parks down enough to convince her not to press charges to avoid your arrest, but I cannot guarantee that I will be able to do so in the future.  And I know that you are already aware of how hunters are perceived by the wizarding world.”

“Is that a threat?” Dean asked. 

Sam shushed him and continued reading, “Mr. Potter has been unavoidably detained at MACUSA headquarters in New York.  As he is currently facing criminal charges, he will be unable to be in contact with you for some time.  He was found in a physically weak state, and his current condition is unknown.  Do not interfere – your presence will only bring more trouble down on his head.  Yours sincerely, Kayla Bluebonnet.” 

Bobby looked at both of them.  “So, you’re headed off to New York City?”

“Yep,” Dean said.  “Let’s hit the road.”

III

Sam and Dean hadn’t spent a great deal of time in New York City in the past.  John had hated it.  Like most big cities, it had its own contingent of hunters that lived there, so most cases were covered by the locals.  That, and it was simply too expensive for their tastes.  If anything, discovering that Harry had been paying their credit card bills for the last – forever, made them both more budget-conscious than when they had simply thought they were defrauding strangers. 

“Are there even any motels in the city?” Dean asked Sam as they approached. 

“I’m sure there are, but maybe we can just go crash at Harry’s place?  There might be some actual information there – Bobby has come up with bupkis on how we can get into MACUSA.” 

“Do you know how to get into Harry’s place?  Because the only way we’ve ever gotten there has been through wizard teleportation and I’d prefer not to vomit in such a fancy apartment.” 

“Yeah, he told me how when…” Sam didn’t continue the sentence. 

“When he had you over to his house and you treated him like shit?” Dean finished for him. 

Sam didn’t respond.  He had a feeling, like when he left for Stanford, that Dean wasn’t going to let this go.  Ever. 

The congestion in the city was as expected.  Dean moaned about it, but they eventually made their way to the area of Central Park that made the most sense based on the views from the apartment. 

“Woah,” Sam said.

“What?” Dean demanded.

“Don’t you see it?”

Dean paused a second and looked in the same direction Sam was gazing in.  There was nothing there.  But then – a shimmer, yes that could be, oh, “Wow.”  A building that had not previously been there.  Dean shook his head.  “That is… that is something else.”

He pulled into the circular driveway in front of the building.  A man immediately jumped up and opened his door while another ran to the other side to open the door for Sam.  He was dressed similarly to what the brothers had seen Harry in the last time they had been here.  Dean still thought it looked like a dress. 

“Mr. Winchester?” he asked.  Dean was a little perturbed at the formality.  And by someone else touching Baby. 

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Head Auror Potter said that it was a possibility that you and the younger Mr. Winchester may visit.  My name is Kenneth, I am the concierge of this building and have been instructed to make you as comfortable as possible.” 

“Uh – great.  Can I park my car here?”

“Of course.  Very few of the residents here use vehicles, I will valet park yours until you are ready to leave.”

“Look, buddy, no one drives…”

Baby turned on by itself and started to drive into a door that hadn’t existed moments before. 

“I assure you, sir, your vehicle will be safe while you are here.  Are you ready to proceed to Head Auror Potter’s residence?”   

Dean was torn between trying to get his car and peel out of here as quickly as possible and continuing with their case, looking back and forth between where his car had just left and the building. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes please, Kenneth.”  He responded for the two of them.  Dean continued to pout as they headed into the building. 

The lobby was unlike anything they had ever seen.  It looked more like a continuation of Central Park than the inside of a building.  There were grass and flowers and sunlight streaming in from what looked like the actual sky above them.  Which shouldn’t have been possible.  Along the “walls” inside were elevators that looked like they had been grown out of the ivy and blended in perfectly with the scenery around them.  In the middle, there was a large fountain, where some kids, also dressed in robes, that would look like regular children if they weren’t controlling sailboats made out of water skimming the surface and splashing each other with waves enchanted to look like small fairies. 

“This is…” Sam started.

“Yeah,” Dean said, confirming what Sam was seeing.

“This way gentlemen,” Kenneth said, gently steering the gaping men towards the elevators.  They got on one with the prettiest young woman the brothers had ever seen and her young daughter. 

“Who are these gentlemen, Kenneth?  I do not believe I have ever seen them in the building before,”  she asked with a charming smile.  She was more than pretty – Dean would have called her angelic if he didn’t know that real angels were dicks.  Her blonde hair seemed to shimmer, he wanted to impress her, he loved her… Sam punched him lightly in the arm. 

“Dude,” he said, quietly. 

Dean shook his head, but before he could act Kenneth was addressing the woman.  “These men are visitors of Head Auror Potter.”

“Oh… oh!” She said, looking at them with much more interest and they all stepped onto the elevator.  “How lovely.  I’ve been meaning to invite Mr. Potter to a building get-together. It’s so nice that he has friends visiting.”

The little girl tugged on Sam’s jacket.  Sam got down on a knee to speak to her on her eye-level. 

“Do you really know Harry Potter?” she asked, in an excited whisper. 

“Yeah, we do.  He’s like a brother.”

Her eyes went wide.  “Really?”

“You bet, sweetie.  What’s your name?  I’m Sam, and this is my brother, Dean.”

“Elsie,” she said. 

“Well Elsie, it’s nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand.  He hoped that was a normal greeting for wizards.  She took it shyly. 

“Elsie, this is our floor,” her mother said, placing a hand on her shoulder.  Sure enough, the ivy doors of the elevator were open. 

“It was nice to meet you too!  Please tell Harry Potter I said hi!” 

“We will.”  She got off.  The elevator kept climbing.  And climbing. 

“What floor does Harry live on?” Dean asked, beginning to get a bit queasy from the height. 

“Head Auror Potter is in the Penthouse, floor 76.”

“We almost there?” He ground out.

“Yes, we will be arriving momentarily.  Once we arrive, the Head Auror’s house-elf, Kiwi, will be taking care of you.  Just send her down ahead of yourselves when you are ready to leave and I will have your vehicle out and ready to go.” 

The door dinged and opened into Harry’s main hallway.  The brothers stepped off the elevator, watched the doors close and disappear into a wall, so there looked like there was nothing at all. 

“Wizards, man,” Dean said.  He looked around a little.  “Where do we even start?” 

“Upstairs, I think,” Sam replied.  “Harry put a whole bunch of books in my room that might have the information that we need.” 

“Your room?”

“Yeah – you’ve got one too.”

They were headed towards the stairs when a… creature appeared.  It was small – only reaching about to Dean’s knees, with bat-like ears and huge ears. 

“Ah!” Dean shouted.  He was about to reach for his gun when Sam put a hand on his arm to stop the motion.  “What is that?” Dean asked.

“I think … I think that this is a house-elf.  Are you Kiwi?” Sam asked, addressing the small creature that looked apprehensive. 

“I am Kiwi, sir.  Are you Mister Harry’s Winchesters?”

The brothers weren’t sure that they liked to be referred to in that way, but Sam responded.  “Yeah, we are.  We’re looking for him – has he been home recently?” Sam asked. 

She shook her head.  “Mister Harry has been gone for several days.  Kiwi was getting worried, but then Mr. Harry’s friends from Britain came and said Mr. Harry was alright.”

“Harry’s friends are here?” Sam asked.

“Not right now.”

Dean breathed a little easier.  He wasn’t planning on having to deal with any additional wizards during this visit.  He wondered briefly if they should leave it up to Harry’s friends to find him – but quickly brushed that thought aside, not wanting to shift the responsibility to anyone else when it came to his family. 

“Do Mr. Harry’s Winchesters need anything?  Kiwi can help.” 

“No…” Sam started before Dean interrupted. 

“Can you get us pie?”

“Dean!” Sam admonished. 

“What?  She asked.” 

“Kiwi can get Mr. Harry’s Winchesters pie.”  She popped off. 

Dean looked disappointed.  “I didn’t get a chance to tell her what kind.”

“Come on,” Sam said, turning away and heading up the stairs.  They came to the hallway.  “Our rooms are at the end.  He said they’re magic free zones, so we can plug in our electronics.” 

“Which one is mine?” Dean asked, seeing many different doors. 

“The one at the end of that hall – has a D on the door.” 

Dean went straight in, he stood there for a couple of seconds, taking it in.  “Dude, this is AWESOME.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was curious to see what Dean’s room looked like, so he entered behind his brother, who was staring in the fridge.  The room was nearly identical to his own. 

“How’d he know my favorite beer?  And peanut butter cups!  I’m pretty sure I never told him about those.”

“I did, it’s pretty incredible that he remembered,” Sam said. 

Dean’s attention had already shifted.  “Look at all these DVDs – all my favorites.  Look there is even a Clint Eastwood section.” 

Indeed, where in Sam’s room there were books, here, there were hundreds of different movies.  Dean was now looking in the closet. 

“Sammy, come see this!” he called.  Sam went over.  The closet was filled with neat rows of shirts, pants, boots, and jackets.  All replicas of something currently in Dean’s wardrobe or something he had had in the past.  “Seriously, how did he know?”

“He’s been having us stalked for the last, whoever-knows-how-long?” Sam answered dryly. 

“Right.  That is creepy.  Sweet, but creepy.”

“It doesn’t bother you that he’s been paying for everything for years?” Sam asked. 

“He has the money.  And it’s not like we’ve been livin’ large.”  Dean flopped down on the bed and groaned.  “This is the nicest damn bed I’ve ever been in.” 

“That’s nice Dean.  But the case?  Finding Harry?” 

“Right, right.  You said you had books?”

“Yeah, come on.”

The two went into Sam’s room. 

Sam went straight for the books while Dean looked around for comparison.  The rooms were almost identical.  Only Sam’s fridge had his favorite beer (‘Small batch craft,’ Dean thought, ‘hipster crap.’) and candy.  And the wall was covered in books instead of movies.  He hated research, but he was touched by what Harry had created for the two of them, and that made him want to double-down on their efforts to find him. 

“What’re we looking for book-wise?”

“The note said that he was being held by MACUSA, right?  So, I think anything about the magical government here in the US.”

“Yeah.  Any general books about wizards?  We should probably figure out how to gank one.” 

“You want to figure out how to kill Harry?”

Dean glared.  “Not specifically.  But we know that they have protections from bullets, so we should find out what will kill them.”

“I think they are just human, Dean.  I imagine a knife or a stake to the heart would kill them, just like any other human.” 

“Something about protecting ourselves from magic?  You’ve seen how easily they can disarm us.  Maybe we should consider a bungee cord.”

Sam pulled several books from the shelf. 

There was a knock on the door – Kiwi the house-elf was standing there.  “Kiwi has gotten Mr. Harry’s Winchesters pie.  It’s in the kitchen, would you like Kiwi to bring it here?”

The brothers exchanged looks. 

“No, thank you, Kiwi,” Sam said.  “We’ll bring these books downstairs where there is room for us to spread out and read.” 

She nodded and popped out of view.

“Man, and I thought angels were bad,” Dean commented.  “I don’t know if I will get used to the sheer number of creatures who can teleport.”  He started heading out of the room.  Sam cleared his throat. 

“What?  There’s pie!”

Sam rolled his eyes and put the pile of books he had pulled out already into Dean’s arms. 

The two of them headed downstairs with what felt like 200 hundred books (to Dean).  On the kitchen table, there were at least twenty different types of pie. 

“Woah,” Dean said, “that’s a lot of pie.”  He was thoroughly distracted by trying a slice of each kind while Sam started looking in on the books. 

“Here’s something,” he said.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, partially through a bite of what he thought must be boysenberry pie.  He didn’t even know what a boysenberry was, but it was delicious. 

“It’s about the criminal system here.  That curse that Harry cast to kill the hellhounds – it is highly illegal.  And extremely deadly.  There is no way to block it.  And only one person has ever survived … oh.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just like what he told us, Harry’s the only person to ever survive being hit by one.  Twice.” 

“Well, I guess we knew he was powerful.  But if he’s so powerful, how in the world are they keeping him locked up?”

“Do you remember those things that attacked the night he left?”

“Hard to forget.  Well, hard to forget if your mind wasn’t wiped.”

“Dementors are what those are called, and according to these books, that could be what MACUSA is using to keep Harry locked up while he awaits trial.  They suppress magic.  And make those around them relive their worst memories.” 

Dean shuddered, thinking about what Harry might be living through right now.  “How do you kill one?”

“According to this… you can’t.  You can repel them with a spell constructed of happy thoughts.”

That was one of the most ridiculous things Dean had ever heard. 

“Alright, how are we getting in?”

They spent hours pouring over the books.  There was some helpful information – they were pretty sure that they would be able to enter the building where their brother was being held.  They might even be able to sneak past some of the witches and wizards guarding him.  Some semblance of a plan was beginning to form.  It was messy, but what plan of theirs wasn’t?  Sure, storming the headquarters of a magical government may seem reckless to some, but for two men who had recently decided to take on the Devil single-handedly, it seemed almost like an everyday occurrence. 

“Hey – do you remember how we get out of here?” Dean asked Sam as he realized that to put their plan into action, they were going to have to leave this apartment.  The place where they had stepped off the elevator was now just a solid wall.  Although they were planning on putting their plan into action tomorrow, they had decided to get a few items out of the Impala in preparation. 

Sam stood up – and stretched lightly, he had been sitting for a long time.  “Didn’t Kenneth say something about the house-elf…”

Before their eyes, the wall transformed, back into an elevator.  But it wasn’t empty. 

Harry’s friend, Hermione, was the first off, walking backward.  “Gently Ron, you don’t want to drop him.”

“Hermione, when have I ever dropped him before?  I didn’t the first hundred times, and I won’t this time,” came the tired, aggravated, voice of her husband. 

Who he was holding up was unclear, he had his wand raised and he seemed to be performing some sort of spell. 

Lastly, came someone neither Sam nor Dean had seen before.  She was quite petite – maybe only a little over five feet tall, but she had the same shock of red hair as Ron – only her’s was long and wavy.

“Who’re they?” she asked the other two. 

Hermione turned around and Ron looked up.  There was a crash.

“Harry!” Hermione cried.   

The three Brits ran over to the crash.  Hermione grabbed something in the general area.  On the floor, there was a man who was face up, covered in blood, and unconscious.  

“Is that Harry?” Sam asked.  The man didn’t look like Harry.  For one, there was no scar and also, he had freckles on his nose and his hair was lighter and less messy.  But there was still something – vaguely familiar about him.

The two redheads were on either side of the man and they carefully lifted him back onto the stretcher. 

“Yeah, it’s him.  Bloody show-off, holding a glamour while unconscious.” Ron said, grunting as he lifted. 

“Why is he disguising himself?” Sam asked and at the same time Dean asked, “Why is he unconscious?”

“To protect you two arseholes, I assume,” Ron replied to Sam’s question.  “Look, we need to get him to bed.  We’ll answer whatever moronic questions the two of you have then.  And then you’ll answer ours.” 

Sam and Dean knew a threat when they heard one. 

“Ready, Ginny?”  the tall redhead asked the smaller one. 

“Yeah.”

The two of them used their wands to lift the stretcher and float it along upstairs.  Sam and Dean weren’t quite sure what to do, so they just waited. 

About ten minutes later, the two women came down the stairs.  They both looked pretty exhausted. 

“Accio firewhiskey,” the redheaded one said and proceeded to pull the top off of the bottle and drink straight from it. 

“Ginny, is that necessary?” Hermione asked. 

“Hell yes.  You know – I was always a bit bitter that the three of you left me behind during the war, but if it was anything like that… well I understand Harry’s alcohol addiction a little better now.” She took another swig. 

“What happened?” Dean asked.  “Why was he unconscious?  And so beat up?  Why did he look like…”?

“You?  He looked like you,” Hermione said.  “Both of you.  Our going theory is that he can hold the glamour he’s wearing because it’s what he would have looked like if he hadn’t been adopted.  But we haven’t had an opportunity to speak with him, he’s been unconscious since we broke him out.”

Both brothers were wishing they had gotten a better look.

“You jailbroke him?” Sam asked.  “I thought you were some sort of fancy lawyer.” 

Hermione glared.  “I am, but Harry comes first.  Plus, to quote what he always tells his godson, if we don’t get caught it hardly matters.” 

“Why did you have to jailbreak him at all?  What happened?  He left with Ellen and Jo and never came back.  We got a letter saying he was being detained…” 

“He was.  Bloody Americans are barbarians.  We think they tortured him for information, but we weren’t sure if this was the condition, they found him in from his misadventure with you two.  Most of his wounds are non-magical in nature.” 

“He wasn’t all bloodied up when he left us.  But also, I don’t understand,” Sam said.  “Isn’t he a big war hero?  I saw him with some of your police force – they seemed to worship the ground he walked on.” 

“Harry Potter is.  Henry Winchester is not.  You know what Ginny, I’ve changed my mind.  I’d like some of that.”  She summoned the bottle from her friend.  She took a long sip.  “Would you two like some?”

“Are you going to answer our questions and tell us what the fuck happened my little brother?” Dean asked, feeling his frustration and anger grow the longer this conversation stayed off topic. 

With narrowed eyes, Hermione responded, “Yeah.  But, mind you, we don’t have to, and we don’t know the whole story.” 

“And who is she?”  Dean asked.  Glasses were summoned and whiskey poured. 

“This is Ginny Weasley – she’s Harry’s girlfriend.  I think.  Ginny?” 

“I just fought my way out of MACUSA headquarters for him.  Could’ve damaged my throwing arm with the World Cup only months away!  I’m his fucking fiancée.”

“Really?” Dean asked.

Ginny glared. 

“Don’t mind her – their relationship status changes on an almost daily basis.  Sometimes I think they just go with whatever the tabloids are saying that week.  It’s infuriating.”

“And none of your bloody business,” Ginny shot back.   “And you are Dean and Sam.  My brothers-in-law to be.  Just what I always wanted, more brothers.  Would it have killed him to have a super top-secret sister?” 

“Ginny grew up with six older brothers,” Hermione explained. 

“Woah,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great to meet you.  But we need to know what happened to Harry,” Dean said impatiently, not appreciating the change in topic.

Hermione heaved a sigh.  “We don’t know the full extent of it all.  He went on some sort of … mission, with the two of you?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other.  “You could say that, yeah,” Sam responded. 

“Well, while helping you, he cast about a dozen killing curses.  Which is highly illegal.  Each one carries a life sentence.  And also, previously thought of as impossible.  When they found him, he was pretty magically drained, so they didn’t get a read on his full power level.  They also thought that he had impersonated himself, which is patently ridiculous.  He managed to get a message to Ron and me before they shackled him in a room with dementors guarding the outside.  I assume because he made some Merlin-damned, reckless escape attempt instead of waiting patiently.  I also assume that that plan had something to do with the two of you.”  She gave the Winchesters a meaningful glance. 

“Why didn’t he just tell them who he was?  Surely, there would be a way for him to prove it.” 

“We don’t know.  As Ron said, we think that he’s trying to protect the two of you.  In his message to us, he told us that we weren’t to use his real name to get him out, even though that would have made all of this a hell of a lot easier.  He’s worried that he won’t be able to protect you if people find out that he has Muggle brothers.  Henry Winchester was registered as an American wizard the summer he spent with the two of you.”

“Oh, the wand permit,” Sam said.  It was really hard for him to wrap his head around the idea that this man that had just come back into their lives would suffer so much just to make sure that the world didn’t know that he had brothers.

Hermione raised her eyebrow.

“He got caught doing magic and he and Dad went to get him a wand permit so that he could legally do magic.” 

“Well, that would explain it.  Also, apparently, he was accepted to Ilvermorny.”

Dean nodded.  “That was Dad.  He thought that if Harry could go to the American equivalent of… whatever your school was called, that he would be more accepting of Dad keeping him here.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, well, we didn’t tell you everything, did we?  Lots about his childhood too.  Dad was dead set against him returning to England… until he wasn’t.” 

Hermione shook her head.  “Dumbledore never would have allowed that.”

“This Dumbledore never met John Winchester,” Dean quipped back. 

“Be that as it may.  There was an official Henry Winchester on file, No-Maj born, American wizard.  The Purpura Convention requires completely sealed records, so, unless there is someone who was directly involved with the case, there is no documentation to show that Henry Winchester and Harry Potter are the same person.  Plus, Lily and James did some seriously good work on the documentation front.  I also don’t think he did anything to try and convince them otherwise.” 

Drinks all around.  The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Dean.  He wanted to protect Harry from the Winchester name just as much as Harry wanted to protect them from the Potter one. 

“Now.  You two are going to tell us exactly what happened.” Hermione said, leveling the two of them with a look. 

“Are we?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Guys.”  Everyone looked up, Ron was at the top of the stairs.  “Harry’s awake.  He’s asking for Sam and Dean.”  

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Three: Chapter Seven – Jailbreak

Season 5

Harry wasn’t one to throw his fame around.  Mostly, he was embarrassed by his celebrity, but in recent years he had learned how to harness it to get what he wanted from time to time.  The thought of how he used it also embarrassed him, but sometimes it was simply a means to an end.  It had gotten out of a lot of scraps and tough situations.  It had also landed him in a boring desk job.  He never thought he would miss his fame, not even for a second, but that was before he was taken in by MACUSA and chained in a dementor-guarded cell. 

It had been quick thinking on his part to disguise his real identity.  

One drunken evening, years before, he had gotten quite morose and had started looking at the three pictures he had of his family from that summer.  He had wondered what he would have looked like if he had been allowed to remain Henry Winchester and had never been adopted by the Potters.  Would he be happier?  From his research of the Purpura Convention, he had found that the ritual of adoption led the child to look more like the magical father, which explained why he was the spit-and-image of James.  He had fallen asleep (alright, passed out) and when he awoke the next morning and looked in the mirror, he had been shocked to find his appearance changed. 

In the mirror, there was a Winchester.  His facial structure had changed slightly – more defined cheeks and jawline.  The color of his hair had gone from an inky black to a rich, dark brown, with some hints of natural, lighter brown highlights.  Its signature un-tidiness was also gone and it fell longer than his normal length with very slight curls just below his ears.  His nose remained the same – it had always been Winchester, but now, there was a smattering of light freckles.  His complexion was also different, darker, less of the signature British paleness.  Most noticeably though, was that his scar was gone.  Or, as gone as his scar could be – if he looked closely, he could see the faint outline of it.  There had been a knock on the door that had startled him into changing back into his normal appearance. 

He equated this change to a wish-magic glamour.  He refused to think of it as accidental magic – he wasn’t a child any longer.  Although, when he had experimented later, he was always able to bring back the same face, so there was likely more to it.  He couldn’t exactly ask Hermione about it at the time, so he only thought about it when drinking led him to worry about or miss his Muggle family. 

The wish-magic came in very handy when he had been taken in by MACUSA.  After they had reawakened him, he had been bound to a chair, his arms and ankles in attached shackles.  There were magic suppressors in them – but he had been passed out for long enough that his magical core had recovered and he was confident that he could overpower them. 

“Henry Winchester.  You have been arrested on the charge of casting multiple killing curses, doing magic in front of No-Majes, and impersonating a foreign official.  Do you understand these charges?”

Harry looked up.  And nodded.  He wouldn’t speak if he could avoid it. 

The Auror’s face was obscured with a charm that was meant to protect law enforcement from retaliation from criminals they questioned.  Harry had outlawed that particular charm in his ranks, as it was more often than not used for abuse of power. 

“Good.  Drop your glamour.  I don’t want to interrogate a Harry Potter look-alike.” 

Harry would have liked to use a glamour that completely changed his features, but he had never been particularly good at those.  So, he went for the easier, wish-enabled one that he had practiced. 

“Much better.  Mr. Winchester, or Henry, if I may, you are going to answer every question we have for you and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be released from prison in time for you to celebrate your 150^th birthday.” 

Harry said nothing.  But he smirked – trying to pattern it after the particularly frustrating expression that he had seen Dean use many times.  Thinking about Dean made him anxious.  He had no idea what had happened to his brothers when he had been unable to return.  At this point, he figured that there was nothing he could do, he had no idea how long he had been out, and, whatever was going to pass, must have already done so.  But he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. 

The man must have asked him something, but Harry missed it and quickly felt a fist meeting his face.  Hard.  He spat out some blood.  By now, the Auror had spoken enough for Harry to know who he was.  After all, he had been spending a considerable amount of time with the American Aurors.  He tried to think how he would speak so as to copy Dean’s voice, tone and accent before he said, “Auror Anderson.  You can hit me all you want.  You’ll never get a word out of me and I’ll be out of here in no time.”

That infuriated the Auror and the next hit was strong enough that Harry felt he could fake being passed out. 

“Fuck,” he heard Anderson say as he stormed out of the room. 

III

Behind the scenes, while the culprit was left to stew in his cell, a group of panicked MACUSA Aurors was gathering in the room commonly referred to as the “War Room.”  They had not had a dark wizard of this caliber in the United States in a very long time.  Possibly ever.  Before performing prior incantato on the wand itself, the Lead Auror on the case, Anderson, would have thought that there was no wizard alive that could perform twelve killing curses in a row.  Excepting Harry Potter, of course.  That is if Harry Potter was a dark wizard who was American.  Anderson supposed that that was why the man had chosen to disguise himself as the well-known British Head Auror.  How he managed to hold the glamour while passed out and in magic suppressing cuffs was another issue altogether.  When the man had quickly changed to his real appearance, Anderson thought that he was going to crack this perp like a nut – but it was proving to be a much harder challenge than he imagined. 

“That son-of-bitch knew who I was.  How the hell could he know that?  What do we know about this Henry Winchester?” he asked the group of Aurors who had been doing the background work. 

“Almost nothing, sir,” one replied. 

Anderson glared.  “How can that be possible?  You would think someone of this power level and propensity for dark magic would have been flagged years ago.”

“There is no magical birth certificate on file which made us think that he was foreign-born.  But it turns out that he is No-Majborn.  The first that was heard of him was at age fourteen – he performed magic in a No-Maj residence without a permit.  Aurors were dispatched to the scene.  But it was the ‘90s, so they let him off with a warning.  He promptly filed for a wand permit.”

A witch took over from there.  “He was accepted to Ilvermorny that same summer.  The notes from Headmaster Webster say that he never met the child – just his father.  He never arrived at the beginning of the school year, so it is assumed that he continued his education elsewhere.”

“Do we know where?”

“No, sir.  And, for some reason, all of his records are completely sealed.  Not just because he was a minor at the time.”

“Shit.  See if you can do anything about that, Mathers.”

“Will do, sir.” 

“Taylor, any word from Harry Potter?  You know, you’d think for all the fuss that we put into getting him to come here, he would show up more often.”

“That’s a negative, sir.  Urgent family business called him away.”

Anderson snorted.  “He’s a freakin’ orphan.  But sure, yeah, family business.  Lenore – any headway on the approval to use-magic-at-will request I put in?”

“No, sir.  It’s still being vetted.”

Anderson swore.  “Thank Merlin for the non-magical violence loophole.  You know, I thought it was stupid when Head Auror Potter insisted that we started training in No-Maj combat, but it’s coming in handy.  Lenore!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Water only for now.  No one is to go near that cell until they have my say-so, is that understood?”

There was a chorus of, “Yes, sirs,” as everyone went back to work.

III

Once Harry was sure Auror Anderson was gone, he quickly used his magic to get out of the cuffs.  It burned and left marks on his wrists and ankles, but otherwise, it was like tearing through tissue paper for The-Man-Who-Conquered.  He got up and strode towards the door.  When he touched the handle, it crumbled and burned his hand.  “Fuck,” he said, not recognizing this particular locking charm. 

He didn’t have his wand, of course, but he had learned to do a wandless Patronus years ago. 

“Expecto Patronum,” he said as his Prongs-shaped Patronus appeared.  “Ms. Bluebonnet, I have been taken by MACUSA due to my extracurricular activities.  They don’t know who they have.  Send word to Ron and Hermione to tell them I’m using my American name and that they are, under no circumstance, to use my name to get me out of here – also, they are going to need the healer’s kit.”

Harry was pretty sure he’d be able to figure a way out of here eventually, but this wouldn’t be the first time that his friends needed to jailbreak him.  Although, it was the first time when he wasn’t himself, so that could make it more complicated.  It was of the utmost importance to him that Harry Potter and Henry Winchester were never connected.  

Even though his brothers were hardened hunters, if wizards decided to go after them, there was nothing they would be able to do.  It was a new type of terror for Harry, which was saying something for the man who worried about the safety of his surrogate family all the time.  At least when Teddy was little, he had been able to assign full-time protection for his godson.  Doing the same for his Muggle brothers would raise some eyebrows, especially considering he didn’t have the same political pull here in the States as he did in England.  

And the press!  The American paparazzi had more-or-less left him alone during his time here, but the British press would not be so cautious.  Harry didn’t think that his brothers would take too kindly to the fame that came with being connected to Harry Potter.

He sat back down in the chair, starting to brainstorm his way out of this room. 

Anderson returned, on what Harry was presuming was the next day, a tray of food in his hands.  He dropped it the second that he saw the man he thought was Henry Winchester sitting cross-legged in the corner of the room, out of the suppressors, to draw his wand.  He pointed it at Harry. 

“How’d you get out of those chains?” He demanded, putting his wand directly in Harry’s face. 

Harry smirked and said nothing, just making the man angrier.  “Back-up, I need back-up,” he called sharply.  Promptly, as many Aurors as could fit, filed into the room.  “Stand up,” he ordered. 

Harry glared.

“I said stand up,” he repeated, shooting some stinging hexes at the man. 

Harry stood, gingerly.  He figured it put him in a better position to fight back.  He put his hands up in a show of submission.  The Auror advanced a little closer to him, noticing the burns on his wrists for the first time.

“Did you burn your way out of those cuffs?” he asked, not expecting an answer.  “I didn’t think that was…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Harry punched the man with one arm, while disarming him with the other.  He moved so quickly that he was able to do the same to the next two Aurors before being hit with about five stunners, knocking him to the ground. 

Everyone looked at the man on the floor with astonishment. 

One of the Aurors helped Anderson up off the floor.  “Sir, what should we do?”

Anderson’s face hardened.  This man was more dangerous than he had even imagined.  “I don’t think we have a choice – we’re going to have to put him in maximum security.”

Maximum security was only used in the direst of situations.  But those cuffs had been the strongest magic suppressors the department had.  They had been quite expensive, and from the look of them, they were now useless.  They only had two cells and two dementors.  Anderson had never had to use them before. 

“Who is best at the Patronus charm?” He asked the group.  They looked at each other before there were about three who raised their hands.  “Alright, take him down.  Full restraints.”

They nodded and got to work moving the unconscious man.

Dementors still had a terrible effect on Harry.  And they were still his biggest fear.  When Harry woke up in a cell, shackled wrists, feet, and neck to the wall, he knew he was in trouble.  The dread increased when he felt the presence of dementors.  He didn’t even know that MACUSA had any.  The bad memories started immediately.  The war wasn’t the memory that resonated the most.  You would think it would be facing Voldemort or dying in the woods.  But it wasn’t.  It was all the rejections Harry had faced.  Sirius, picking him up just to ship him out.  John, threatening him with his gun.  Ron, leaving while on the Horcrux hunt.  Sam, not wanting anything to do with him.  And images – Sam and Dean dead because he hadn’t come back to help. 

Since Dementors no longer guarded Azkaban (a post-war reform) Harry hadn’t come in contact with many of them in his line of work.  But the few times he had been bad. 

By the time Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had arrived in his cell to get him out, he was simply out cold, but they could see where he had caused himself injury.  Where the shackles had been, his skin was rubbed raw and he had scratch marks all over his arms and legs.

Harry woke up in his own bed, Ron sitting in a chair next to him.  He blinked. 

“Harry!” Ron exclaimed.  “Careful,” he said as his best friend struggled to sit up, “I just healed what I could.  You ready for some chocolate?”

Harry nodded and Ron handed him a mug of hot chocolate.  He took it gratefully. 

“How long?” Harry croaked. 

“We got your message about three days ago – so maybe a day or two longer than that.”

Harry nodded.  “Sam and Dean?”  He was afraid of the answer. 

“Fine.  They’re downstairs.  They were already here when we brought you in.”

Harry let out a breath that he had been holding for ages.  He leaned back slightly.  “Thank Merlin.” 

“Harry, why didn’t you just tell them who you are?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t want it to be common knowledge that Henry Winchester and Harry Potter are the same person.  Think about how a dark wizard could use Sam and Dean against me.  Not to mention the press.” 

Ron laughed dryly.  “Harry, no dark wizard has dared cross your path in years.”

“You know that won’t always be the case,” he insisted. 

“You’re a stubborn git, you know?”

“I do.  Never stop reminding me though.”

“Oh, don’t worry I won’t.” 

“Thanks, Ron.  For everything.  I know you’re retired – it couldn’t have been easy to break me out.”

“Mate, I don’t think there is any retiring from being your best friend.  And we’ve been in tougher situations.  This one is going to be a mess politically, though, worse than that time in Egypt.”

“Probably.  At least we speak the same language here.”  Harry took the final gulp of the hot chocolate.  “Whiskey now, please?”

Ron laughed.  “No way.”

“Fine,” Harry said, he started moving to get out of bed. 

“Woah, what’d you think you’re doing there?”

“I’m going to go see Sam and Dean.”

“Absolutely not.  I’m not a real healer, just a field medic, but you’re on bed rest.  A good week of it.” 

Harry groaned.  “You’re worse than Pomfrey.”  

“And if you don’t listen to me, don’t think that I won’t go get her to keep your sorry arse in bed.  She lives in a retirement community now, but she’ll come out if I ask.” 

Harry huffed. “I’m a grown man, Ron.  I think…”

“If you won’t stay and the threat of Pomfrey isn’t enough, I’ll bring Mum.  She’s been missing you anyway.  Asks about you every day.” 

The-Boy-Lived shuddered.  “No, not Molly.  I love her but …”

“That’s what I thought.  You hang tight.  I’ll go fetch the two prats you call brothers.”

“Hey!”

Ron left.  Harry tried to sit up a bit straighter and look a little less pathetic. 

A few moments later, Sam and Dean came traipsing into his room.  Behind them, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. 

“Hey guys,” Harry said. 

They both stared at him. 

Dean spoke first, “We thought you’d died.”

Harry snorted.  “No such luck.  I was worried the same.  I’m so sorry – I overextended my core a bit and the Aurors caught me by surprise.  Did the plan work?” 

His brothers looked back at Harry’s friends. 

“Oh right.  Could you give us a minute?” Harry asked.  They looked surprised but left. 

Before closing the door, Ron glared at Sam and Dean.  “Don’t forget what I said.” 

They nodded.  And then there were three. 

“What did he say to you?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing,” his brothers said together.  Harry decided to let it drop, for now. 

“Did you do it?  Were you able to kill him?” 

Sam shook his head.  “The Colt didn’t work.” 

“How are you still alive?” 

“Cas found us and got us out,” Dean said.  “What was that you were saying about your core?”

“Wizards only have so much magic that they can use at a time.  It’s probably inaccurate, but we call the amount of magic each witch or wizard has a core.  Kind of like a petrol tank, some cores can handle more magic than others.  It’s been a while since I’ve drained mine down quite that far.  Is Jo alright?”

“Yeah – thanks to you,” Sam said.  “Doctors said that if it had even been five minutes more, we would have lost her.  She’s been camping out at Bobby’s – she’s also in a wheelchair.  For now, at least.”

Harry shrugged.  “It was the least I could do.” 

Dean and Sam did not agree with that. 

“So, what’s next?” 

“Uh – I think next, you get better.  Seems like you took quite the beating.” Dean responded. 

“I’ve had worse.  And you should see the other guy.”  Seeing the still very serious looks on his brothers’ faces, he knew that the joke didn’t land.

“I’m sure you have,” Dean said, “but there’s not much that can be done about Lucifer at the moment, so you just sit back.”  Harry gave him a look.  “Your friend said you were a bad patient.  Also, dude, could you change back to the way you normally look?  You look like a weird combination of Dad, Sam, and me and it’s freakin’ me out.”

“Dean!” Sam admonished. 

“Oh, I forgot.”  Harry removed the glamour.

Even with the glamour removed, the features that were Winchester were more obvious than they had been before. 

“What was that anyway?” Sam asked. 

Harry hesitated.  “Wish magic, I think.”  At the blank looks, he continued, “Not all magic is purposeful.  Magical children often don’t have any control over their magic – we call it accidental magic.  So, if there is a toy they particularly like and it was taken away or lost, they may summon it.  I used it to unlock my cupboard, or, one time to apparate to the school’s roof to get away from my cousin.  I had no idea what I was doing at the time, and most wizards and witches outgrow it.”

“But not you?” Dean asked, skipping over the locked cupboard.  For now.  He also vividly remembered the explosions that Harry had caused when he had been angry as a teenager.  This seemed a little different, though.

Harry looked embarrassed.  “Not me.  I’ve always been a little different.  One night I got drunk and wondered what I would have looked like if I hadn’t been adopted and, well, presto-chango, Henry Winchester appeared in the mirror.  Scared the shit out of me the next morning.  It’s not quite… accidental magic – not like when I was younger and exploding light bulbs – but more a fulfillment of a wish, which is why I call it wish magic.  Makes me feel like less of an out-of-control child.”

“Is that what you would have looked like?” Sam was genuinely interested. 

“Glamour charms are not my strong suit but I was able to hold this one for days, even while unconscious, so I think it must be genetic.”           

“Well, you’re much better looking than Sammy here,” Dean said. 

“Hey, you’re only saying that because he looks more like you than me,” Sam said, only a little offended.

Harry was looking exhausted again.  “Hey, man, I think we should let you get some rest.  Your buddy Ron threatened that your fiancée would hit us with a bat-bogey hex if we pushed you too far.” 

“Oh, did we get engaged again?  Thanks for telling me.” He paused and smiled sleepily for a second.  “That is her specialty and she does love to use it, so that was probably a pretty serious threat.  This,” he said, indicating to the general state of disrepair, “is going to take some time to settle.  I’m going to have to go into MACUSA and do some diplomatic work as well to smooth all this over.  Hopefully, I can do so quietly, once they know who I am.  You two are always welcome here, of course, but if you’d like to get back on the road, I’ll understand.  It’ll be pretty boring around here.” 

“You’re going to go back?” Sam asked, looking at his older brother like he was crazy. 

“Yeah, kinda have to.  One of the sides of being legit and not a fake officer of the law.  But, I promise, Hermione won’t let me get arrested again, so you will be able to use the mirrors to contact me if you need anything.  I want to help, but am afraid I’m a bit useless on that front at this particular moment.” 

Sam and Dean looked at each other, trying to come to an agreement on what to do next. 

“How ‘bout we stay one more night, make sure you’re all set, and then take off in the morning.”

The look on Harry’s face let Dean know that this had been the correct thing to say. 

“He says that it’s to make sure you’re all set, but I think that he just wants to try and eat every last bite of the pie that Kiwi brought back,” Sam added.  Harry’s eyes were beginning to close. 

The two exited the room.  Harry was asleep before the door closed. 

III

Sam and Dean made their way back downstairs, where Harry’s friends were sitting around, talking.  Ron stood up.

“How is he?”

“Out,” Dean replied. 

“I’ll go keep watch,” Ginny said, leaving the group and going upstairs.  She was too angry with these two men to want to spend any time with them. 

Ron sat back down.  “That’s good, means the potion I put in his hot chocolate finally kicked in.  I swear, they keep taking longer and longer to have any sort of effect.” 

“You drugged him?” Sam asked, incredulously.

Ron shrugged.  “I gave him medicine.  If you two are planning on taking him on any more adventures, I’ll be sure to send you some.  Never met anyone more stubborn than Harry.” 

“It’s a family trait,” Sam commented, glancing at Dean. 

Ron laughed dryly.  “Somehow I’m not surprised.  Hermione looked over those books you have out.  What were you planning?  Just going to storm in MACUSA, wands blazing?” 

“We don’t have wands,” Dean said, “but we were planning on bringing guns.  Lots of them.  Some knives as well.” 

“Seems like recklessness and piss-poor planning are also family traits.” 

Sam and Dean couldn’t disagree with that. 

“What was he casting all those killing curses for anyway?  Harry hates using it, so I have to imagine that the situation was pretty dire.”

Dean poured himself a glass of whiskey.  “We had hellhounds after us.” 

“Hellhounds?” she asked, not quite believing it. 

“Yeah.”

“And you couldn’t just play music to get them to sleep?” she asked as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.  “Harry’s dealt with a Cerberus before, he shouldn’t have needed to resort to the killing curse to defeat one.” 

“Those weren’t his first hellhounds?” Sam asked. 

“No.  In our first year, there was one at our school, we had to get past him to… well, that’s neither here nor there, but Harry just played a flute and Fluffy just fell asleep.”

“Harry plays the flute?” Dean asked.

“The hellhound was called Fluffy?”  Sam inquired at the same time. 

“I didn’t say that he played it well,” Hermione replied. 

“Hermione, they had to be of the Muggle sort, you know, demonic,” Ron explained.  “They’re different from Fluffy.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense, Ronald.”  

“Maybe not, but that’s the case.  You wouldn’t have encountered demonic creatures, they’re all but extinct in England.  I’ll explain more later.  Now, at least we know what he used them on.  Creatures are pretty much fair game, so he won’t be facing charges on that front.  Plus, he did it to save the Muggles, and we’ll just say we’ve memory wiped them.”

“Hey, hey, no memory wiping.  We’ve had quite enough of that for one lifetime,” Dean said gruffly. 

“Agreed,” Sam said.  “Is it that remarkable that he cast the spell so many times?” 

Hermione leveled him with a look.  “If any other wizard had tried it, they would be dead.  From a depleted core alone.  And to apparate with two additional people right afterward – well, it’s no wonder they didn’t have a hard time holding him for a couple of days.” 

“Hermione,” Ron chided. 

“No, they should know.”

“Know what?” Dean asked.

“Harry isn’t a regular wizard.  I told you that the other day, but I wasn’t just trying to threaten you.  It’s the truth.  He doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s the most powerful wizard alive.  That doesn't mean that he isn’t without his limits, but it makes him far more reckless than he should be.  He thinks that he’s bulletproof.”

“Oh, he is, Sam shot him the other day.”

“WHAT?” 

“Hey!  He told me to.”

“Ron, pass me a drink.”

“Is that not normal?” Sam asked.  “For wizards to be bulletproof?”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. 

“It’s not something we talk about with Muggles, but in case you have any more bright ideas about storming into the wizarding world, most wizards can ward against guns.  When they first became common in the Muggle world, some of our kind tried to use them.  Some even modifying the guns to be…magical.  It was seen as a loophole to casting illegal curses.  But it led to an arms race of sorts that was only ended when wards to protect against bullets were invented.  That made them obsolete, but also taboo,”  Ron explained.  “But, if they aren’t expecting it, most won’t have those wards ready.  So, we can be killed by a bullet, but I do not doubt that Harry has his wards up at all times.” 

Dean filed that information away.  It was always good to know how to gank a potential threat.

“Look, it’s clear to us that something is going on with the two of you and you’ve gotten Harry involved.”  When the brothers glared at him, Ron put his hands up and continued, “Not that you could have stopped him from what he decided to help anyway.  But, I’ve been Harry’s second since we were eleven.  There are things you need to know and things to look out for.  We’re also going to be sure that your mirrors are connected to mine and Hermione’s as well.”

“What sorts of things?” Sam asked. 

Ron and Hermione gave them the rundown.  And the four of them spoke late into the night.  Dean decided that these two weren’t as bad as he thought they were.  It was apparent that they had taken care of Harry in the same way that he had taken care of Sam.  It was also the most amount of hope he had felt in a long time.  While Harry seemed to have his quirks, having a powerful ally may help.

III

The next morning, Sam and Dean exited their (very comfortable) bedrooms, dressed and ready to leave.  They were surprised to see Harry not only up, but looking much better, and cooking them breakfast. 

“Hungry?” he asked as he saw them enter the kitchen. 

“What’s this?” Dean asked him.  

Harry smiled.  “You know, John asked me that one morning after I cooked too. This, Dean, is called breakfast.  Most people eat it at the beginning of the day.”

“Thanks,” Dean replied sarcastically.  “But why are you cooking?  Shouldn’t you still be in bed?” 

“I like cooking,” Harry responded simply.  “And it’s been a while.  Also, I heal quickly.  Sit, eat.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice.  Sam joined him.  “Just as good as I remember,” he commented as he dug into the eggs. 

The three sat together to eat.  Harry’s friends were once again back in Britain – and while none of them had issued a single complaint, Harry could tell that the back and forth was beginning to get to them.  It was hard – but he had decided that he might need to start depending on his brothers instead of just his friends.

“So, I think there is something that I need to tell you both,” Harry started, nervously. 

That got both their attention.  “Yeah?” Dean asked, putting down his fork. 

“Do you remember when I left you in that hotel because my wards were going off?” 

“When you were fucking around on a case and left us with all the work, yeah we remember.” 

Harry ignored that.  “It was Gabriel.” 

“Gabriel?  The archangel?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, him.  He came to see me and to make me … an offer.”

“What kind of offer?” Dean wasn’t liking the sound of this. 

“A spare-the-wizarding-world-in-exchange for-staying-out-of-the-Apocalypse sort of offer.”

Silence. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”  Seeing the looks of anger on his brother’s faces made him continue quickly, “I said nothing because I would like him to think that I am considering taking the offer but I would never.  I’m not convinced he can protect my world anyway.”

“So, you’re trying to trick the Trickster?” Sam asked.

“He did say I was his one-true vessel, so if anyone has a shot, it’d have to be me.  More than anything though, I think it shows that there are more players on the pitch than we initially thought.”

“What do you expect us to do with this information?”

Harry shrugged.  “It’s less about what I expect you to do, and more about what I think I can do.  He’s an archangel, right?  Just like Michael and Lucifer.  He offered to teach me magic beyond what I’ve ever even imagined.  He’s unwilling to do anything to stop his brothers, but maybe he can teach me something to help.” 

“That’s kind of a longshot isn’t it?” Sam asked skeptically. 

“Sam, we’ve been working on this for ages.  We have nothing, all we have left are longshots,” Dean responded.  “I’m hardly a fan of Gabriel, but weren’t you just yammering on the other day about how we should maybe ask the Trickster to help?” 

“And weren’t you just saying we should let him stay out of all of this?”

“We’ve already talked about this.  Before he saved Jo, sure, but he’s an adult and he’s decided…”

“Uh – guys, still here, look, I’m not going anywhere.  If you think this is a bad plan, that’s one thing, but I’m going to be involved one way or another.”

“But what about your job?  Will you be able to just … leave it?” Sam asked. 

Harry laughed.  “Oh, after I’m done with MACUSA next week, I’m pretty sure that they won’t have trouble letting me go.  It’s a delicate political situation and I want to be sure to try and erase all information they have about me – Henry Winchester me, that is.”  When he said Henry Winchester, he unconsciously changed his appearance.  It made it much harder for Dean and Sam to say no to him. 

“Alright, what exactly did you have in mind?” Dean finally asked. 

Harry grinned. 

III

“Dear Castiel,” Dean started.  Before he could get any further, his friend appeared, frowning. 

“This is an odd location for you to be in Dean.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s not every day that I hang out in an invisible wizard penthouse in New York City.” 

Cas made a face.  “I don’t know why you continue to insist on spending time with this…abomination.”

“Oh, hey, Uncle Castiel, nice to see you again too,” Harry said, cheerfully greeting the angel.  

“It is not nice to see you and I am not your uncle.  I thought I made that clear,” Cas said, confused as to why this human couldn’t read his hostile tone. 

“It was sarcasm, Cas,” Sam clarified. 

“Oh.” 

“Also, irrational hatred, preference for the different child in my family, and name-calling.  Tracks with everyone else I’ve ever called uncle before.”   

There was an awkward silence.  Cas seemed content to just stand there and say nothing. 

“Alright.  Cas, we wanted to talk about how much angels know about the wizarding world.”

If Cas hadn’t already been frowning, he would have frowned harder. 

“It is forbidden that we have any contact with witches and wizards.”

“Yes, yes,” Dean said impatiently, “You’ve said that before.  But we know that angels watch Earth – do they also watch witches and wizards?” 

“Not really,” but he shifted uncomfortably. 

“Cas…”

“Most don’t.  I’ll admit that they can be…interesting, from time to time.  But I don’t like them.” He said the last part very quickly.

“‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks’,” Harry commented. 

Sam laughed while Dean and Cas just looked confused.  He looked down at his body as if just to check.

“My vessel is a man.” 

“It’s Shakespeare, Cas,” Sam explained.  That did not seem to clear anything up for him. 

“Cas, we’re just trying to figure out how much angels know about what’s been going on in the wizarding world.  And more specifically, what Michael and Lucifer might know.” 

“I don’t know what my brothers know.  They are aware of this community, of course, but the wizards are not followers of our Father and they do not pray to us.”

“Alright, how about you just tell us what you know, Cas?”  Sam was not amused by their feathered friend. 

“Witches and wizards … they are very insular.  It’s in their nature, as fallen angels.  My Father – he loved them.  It was said that he considered them to be the best of both his creations, angels and humans.”

“So, what are we?  Angels or humans?”  Harry asked. 

“Both.  Neither.” 

Harry snorted.  “Well, that’s helpful.  I should introduce you to my friend Luna.”

“Luna Lovegood?” Cas asked. 

That surprised Harry.  Shocked him.  “You know her?”

“I know of her… she is rare.  Special.  Blessed.” 

“In what way?”

Cas declined to answer. 

Harry was quite frustrated.  And slightly concerned for Luna.  Although not entirely surprised to hear that there may be more to her than what meets the eye. 

“And Gabriel.  What is his involvement with my kind?”

Cas now looked a little confused.  “Gabriel?  He disappeared, we presumed dead, after Lucifer was cast out.  He has nothing to do with your kind.”

“Interesting, that’s not what he said.”  Harry didn’t elaborate any further. 

Cas turned to Dean.  “I have far more important matters to attend to than speaking with…” he stopped and thought for a moment, “him.”

Dean’s face hardened a bit.  “Cas, you need to get over this bitch fit you’re having about him.  He’s my brother.”

Cas looked pained but didn’t say anything more.  He had a great deal of respect for Dean and felt a deep connection with him.  And he supposed that being a wizard was better than having an addiction to drinking demon blood.  He had gotten used to Sam, so he could probably get used to this new brother as well.  It wasn’t as if he didn’t have his own share of problematic siblings. 

“I understand,” he said finally, after an awkward silence. 

“You better,” Dean replied.  The angel did not miss out on the slight threat behind his friend’s voice.

“Er – I’m going to be starting some research on what exactly witches and wizards are in my world.  It would be helpful to have an angel to speak with from time to time.  If I send my questions through Dean or Sam would you answer them?”  Harry asked.

“I suppose that would be acceptable.  Is that all for now?  I would like to return to my search.”

The brothers exchanged looks.  “Yeah, thanks Cas,” Dean responded. 

Cas left without another word.  

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy 

Part Three: Chapter Eight – Diplomacy

Season 5 – Episode 13 (The Song Remains the Same)

Harry and his brothers had decided to go their own ways for a bit so that he could do some investigating in the wizarding world while trying to keep Gabriel off his back for spending time with the Winchesters.  This also gave him some time to clean up the political mess he had (sort-of) created with MACUSA.  He maintained that the treatment he had been given was illegal and he planned on leveraging that in his meetings.  

Most people couldn’t just stroll straight into the antechamber of the President’s office, but being Harry Potter certainly had its perks.  Originally, Ron and Hermione had wanted him to make a big show of power and come storming into MACUSA headquarters with a large entourage, but he found that not making a show oftentimes made him scarier.  He did, however, take the mountain of paperwork and documents that Hermione had provided for him. 

The witch receptionist looked up as he entered the room – surprised that anyone had entered, the President didn’t have any appointments. 

“Good morning,” he said with British civility.  “I would like to speak with President Matthews please.” 

“Do you have an appointment, Mister…”

Harry flashed a smile.  “Potter.  Harry Potter,” he flicked his wand slightly to move any hair obstructing his forehead out of the way. 

“Eep!  Mr. Potter sir.  I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you.  Um – I’m not sure if he can…”

“Oh, I think he’ll see me.  I’ll wait while you check.”  He took a seat just outside and picked up a magazine for emphasis. 

The President had said no interruptions in the morning, but Mary-Louise was at a loss at what to do.  It was Harry Potter after all. 

She got up from her desk and quickly entered the office, closing the door behind her. 

Harry waited.  But not for long.  The witch returned shortly. 

“Head Auror Potter, President Matthews will see you now.”

“Excellent,” he said, standing up, “thank you very kindly Ms…”

“Mary-Louise, sir, my name is Mary-Louise.”

“Yes, then Mary-Louise.  It was a pleasure.” 

The poor witch didn’t manage to get out another word before he entered the office. 

“Head Auror Potter,” an elderly man greeted.  He had grey hair and a receding hairline.  His face and neck largely resembled a turtle – although it didn’t seem fair to turtles to make such a comparison.  His face was framed by circular glasses that highlighted his beady eyes.  Harry had only met the man on a few occasions, but he was not popular on the international front.  He was widely regarded as a man with no principles, but was rather cold and calculating, willing to bend in whichever way the wind blew to gain himself the maximum amount of power.  “What a pleasant surprise.  It’s nice to see you.”

“And you as well, President Matthews,” he replied. 

“Oh, please, call me Norman,” he said in a way that Harry was sure was meant to convey warmth, but instead came out slimy.  

Politicians, Harry thought, always the worst. “Only if you call me Harry.” 

“Of course.  What do I owe the honor of your visit today?  I trust your accommodations have been satisfactory.  It is too bad that you keep being called back to England, but, of course, we are happy to have you for any amount of time that you can spare.”

“It is precisely my accommodations I wished to speak with you about today, Norman.  You are probably not aware that I recently spent five days in one of the cells here in MACUSA.”

Whatever the President had been expecting, it wasn’t that.  “I’m afraid that I don’t understand your meaning.”

Harry gave him a hard look, his friendly disposition disappearing quickly.  “Well, Mr. President, because they didn’t know it was me, of course.  I understand that you have a man on the run?”

He looked very nervous.  “We do.  Mr. Henry Winchester.”

“And does he look something like this?”  Harry shifted his appearance. 

The President was speechless.  “How – how… we haven’t…”

“Made his appearance public?  Yes, I know, and I appreciate that, I truly do.  You see, Norman, I am Henry Winchester.” 

“But…that’s not possible…”

“I assure you it is.  What do you know about the Purpura Convention, President Matthews?” 

“Um, well, it’s not been used in years, of course…”

“I hope that it has been approximately 29 years, Mr. President.  It’s been so long that your Aurors didn’t recognize the significance of the purple folder that my files were contained in.  But you didn’t miss it, did you?”

“Of course not, I know…”

“You know about how your government steals children from their parents at birth.  I am one of those children, Mr. President, my parents were hunters.”

“Hunters?  Surely not.  You’re so strong magically…”

The lights flickered – affirming that Harry was not a weak wizard by any means.  There were very few who could perform wordless, wandless magic to this degree.  “Being Muggle-born does not make one weak, Mr. President.  I am surely proof of that.  I was born Henry John Winchester and adopted by the Potters hours later.  I was torn away from my family, you see, my parents and my brothers.  Because of the American government's backward ways, I grew up an orphan when I still had living parents.  But that’s not what upset me… have a look at these pictures, Mr. President.”

Harry pulled out the photos that Hermione had taken of him right after they had pulled him out of MACUSA.  Covered in bruises and emaciated from being denied food.  Right next to the picture was a list of all International Wizarding laws that had been broken during the time of Harry’s captivity. 

“Now, I understand that you are in a politically precarious position at the moment, Mr. President, I believe that you and I can come to an… agreement of sorts.  With this agreement, if you meet all my terms, none of which break any laws, but, put things right, I won’t go public with this information.”

President Matthews’ face showed him trying to make some quick calculations.  He was already less-than-popular and an incident like this could mean the end of his political career.  At the same time, it also meant that he would have some valuable information on, arguably, the most important wizarding figure in the world.  “I think we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.” 

Harry smiled and laid out his terms.   

After some negotiation, Harry left the office, pleased.  He was   to be sent the entire file on his adoption and everything that MACUSA had on the Winchesters.  The permanent files.  He also left with ownership of the penthouse in New York and an unbreakable vow to protect his identity.  His wand was free from the permit-system and MACUSA could no longer detect or track the magic that he used.  Also, the promise that Auror Anderson would be brought up on charges. 

He smirked.  Maybe politicians weren’t as bad as he originally thought – especially when so easily manipulated. 

III

Sam was slumped against the wall – dead.  His mother slumped over, put to sleep by Michael – using his father as a meat suit.  Rage coursed through Dean’s body.

“Well, I’d say this conversation is long overdue, wouldn’t you?”  Michael asked.

Dean pointed to his brother, “Fix him.”

“First...we talk. Then I fix your darling little Sammy.”

“How’d you get in my dad, anyway?”

“I told him I could save his wife, and he said yes.  If there is one thing I know about John Winchester, it is that he will do anything to save his family.  This isn’t even the first time that I’ve used him.  Technically, that is, the next time is quite a few years down the road.”

“Harry.”

“Yes – I’ve heard that little problem has resurfaced, despite the work I did to erase him.  His kind is, by nature, untrustworthy.  But the biggest threat he posed has passed – he can’t have undue influence on you now.”

“You took away our brother – so, what, I can be your vessel?  If you’re in my dad, I guess they oversold me being your one and only vessel.”

“You’re my true vessel but not my only one.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

III

Harry had one final meeting with Kayla before he departed to go back to England for a bit.  He wanted to get all his affairs in order – he needed to do some work and tie up loose ends before returning to the States to hopefully help his brothers full-time. 

His involvement with the company was top secret – none of the employees knew who they were working for, so he entered the office in his “Winchester” disguise.  He found it more and more natural each time he used it – another avenue of research that he was going to have look into.  He approached the young man sitting at the desk. 

“Good morning.  I have an appointment with Ms. Bluebonnet.” 

The man looked at him suspiciously, but before he could say anything, Kayla opened the door and gestured him in.  She closed the door behind him. 

“Mr. Potter.  Thank you for coming to see me. Please, have a seat.” 

Harry took down his glamour.  Or, maybe put a glamour of his well-known face up.  It was unclear to him which face was his ‘real’ one.  “Of course, thank you for having me.”

“Would you like anything to drink?  Tea or coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright – straight to brass tacks,” Harry could tell that she was bracing herself for something, “Mr. Potter, I have worked for this company for eight years now.  Although I didn’t know that I was working for you, I always admired the leadership given to this team.  Hiring those who are not otherwise desirable and giving them a good foundation for finding new jobs is the sort of mission that I can stand by both personally and professionally.  But I draw the line at putting my employees at risk.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow.  “Did something happen?”

“They didn’t tell you?” 

Harry shook his head.  “I’m not sure to whom you are referring here, so I believe I am missing something.” 

“The Winchesters.  They … abducted one of my employees and held her against her will, trying to get to you.  Now, we’ve been surveilling them for years, and while we understand the violent nature of hunters in general, that violence has never been directed towards us.  It is, frankly, unacceptable.  If saying that to you is a fireable offense, then, by all means, go ahead and fire me, but I will not stand for this.”

Harry was honestly impressed.  He valued the people that stood up to him – not many people were willing to do so.  “Ms. Bluebonnet, let me first express my deepest apologies.  I will also be sure to personally apologize to our employees.  There is no excuse for Sam and Dean’s behavior, and I will be speaking to them about it.  This meeting is very timely, however, as I plan on dissolving all units that have direct contact with my – with the Winchesters.  Now that I have connected with them, it is unnecessary.  I will, of course, reassign those affected by this change.”

Kayla didn’t know what to say.  She honestly believed that she was about to be fired.  She felt the tension leave her body. 

“I appreciate that, Mr. Potter.  I will speak with Chelsea, our employee who has since resigned, about other possibilities within the company.  Now, what did you have in mind for the reassignments?”

Harry nodded.  Solemnly he asked, “Ms. Bluebonnet, do you believe in angels?” 

III

Wrapping up everything in the States took far longer than Harry had anticipated and he barely made it back in time to pick Teddy up from King’s Cross. 

This time, both in the train station and on the platform, there was certainly press everywhere.  Harry hadn’t been seen publicly in the UK since he had left for America in September and the press was hungry to see him.  As always, it was obnoxious. 

Harry had barely made it past the barrier when the flashes went off and the barrage of questions started.  He swore, silently to himself, while no one knew for a fact that he would be here today, it seemed like the media had guessed. 

“Mr. Potter, what have you been doing all this time?”

“Mr. Potter, sources say that you were kicked out of the States….”

“Harry, I have an exclusive with an American woman who claims that you impregnated her – what does Ginny think of your love child?”

“Mr. Potter!”

Harry cleared his throat.  He had been doing this long enough that the reporters knew that it was time to stop asking questions. 

“Good afternoon everyone.  I will not be taking any questions at this time – I am merely another parent here to pick up his child from Hogwarts for the holidays.  Privacy would be greatly appreciated at this time.  I would also like to politely remind all of you about the restrictions on taking pictures of minors.”  He said this last part very pointedly.  The last reporter that had dared try to take a shot of him with any of his godchildren had been hit with heavy fines.  “I will be giving a press conference later this week, the details of which will be sent out by my office shortly.” 

There were groans and sighs, but the reporters (mostly) left after that.  They knew there was no point in trying to get anything out of the Head Auror now that there was a press conference on the horizon.  They had all already gotten their pictures of him anyway. 

The train pulled into the station. 

There was no mistaking his godson as he ran off the train – his hair electric purple. 

“Harry!” Teddy shouted, barreling into his godfather, and engulfing him in a huge hug.  Harry was grinning ear-to-ear.

“Careful there, Teds, you’re getting so big that you’re going to knock your old godfather over.”

“Oh, that would make headlines, wouldn’t it?  The Chosen One, taken down by a half-werewolf.  I’ve missed you, but I have so much to tell you.  You never answered my owls!  And where’s Nan?” 

“She agreed to let me pick you up.  Plus, I have it on good authority that she is quite busy preparing all your favorite foods.”

“Oooh, even lardy cake?” 

Harry wrinkled his nose.  “I told her not to… but alas, when has she ever listened to me?”

Teddy hugged Harry again.  “Let’s go!  I can’t wait to hear about what you’ve been up to in America!” 

Harry ruffled his hair (which was now black, to match his own), “And I can’t wait to hear more about Hogwarts.  You know, I’ve never been in the Hufflepuff common room – I’ve heard a rumor that it is the most comfortable of all, though, you’ll have to tell me all about it…” 

III

After getting Teddy settled back in at his grandmother’s house for the holidays, Harry decided that it was time to go see Luna.  Since he was technically still on sabbatical, he did not have to go to work, which was ideal for him. 

Luna spent most of her time traveling the world, discovering and categorizing magical animals.  She had already published one book and was becoming quite famous, even outside of her being in Dumbledore’s Army.  Her next book was on the cultures of wizarding creatures.  It was a stroke of luck that she was in Europe at all when Harry wanted to speak with her.  Currently, she was in southern France, spending time with Fleur’s family learning more about Veela culture.  When Harry had owled her to ask for a meeting, she had cheerfully sent back a postcard from depicting the Muggle Marché de Noel in Toulouse – with a date and time scrawled on the back.  Of course, the date was written in Occitan, not English or French, and Harry had needed Hermione to help him translate it.  None of this came as a particular surprise to Harry, who had long ago accepted Luna just as she was. 

She was waiting for him in the noon sun, just where the picture on the postcard had been taken. 

“Harry!” she called. 

Harry smiled.  “Luna,” he said, hugging her, “it’s been too long.  How are you?” 

“Oh, I am having the most wonderful time.  Thank you for helping me connect with the Delacours, they have been so welcoming.  And I’m learning so much.  But not nearly as much as you, I see.  Why don’t we wander the mercado a bit and then we can have a proper catch-up – I know this lovely brasserie just around the corner that will be perfect.” 

Although Harry was itching to question his friend and find out what she knew, he had long ago stopped questioning her.  And the walk through the market was refreshing.  Luna had a way about her that could always pull Harry out of his angst and extensional dread in a way that none of his other friends could.  Being with Luna was simply…easy. 

The two of them made their way to the restaurant that Luna promised had the best cassoulet in the whole city.  Sitting in a cozy booth, after enjoying a delightful meal, Harry started placing privacy wards around their table, thankful that the French waiters would naturally leave them alone, unlike those in the United States that were borderline annoying with their attentiveness. 

He was about to speak after finishing his spell work when Luna shook her head and brought out her wand to cast another, one that Harry didn’t recognize.  He raised his eyebrow. 

“For the angels, of course, we don’t want them to overhear.” 

“You’re going to have to teach me that one, Luna.  Will it block out all kinds of angels?”

Luna shook her head.  “Archangels could get through it if they wanted.  But don’t worry, Harry, Gabriel is otherwise occupied for the moment and we would certainly know if any of the other three were about.  Now, I want to hear all about Henry.  I see that you’ve finally accepted him, you’re allowing more of your Winchester to show through.” 

“We’re the same person, Luna.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed.  “Finally, it took you long enough.” 

Harry knew better than to ask her further.  He told her all about his last couple of months in the States.  With more truth and detail than he had given Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.  He didn’t want to worry anyone, and he knew Luna wasn’t one to take on his anxieties. 

She listened with rapt attention, only interrupting to ask important questions.  “So, we need to find a way to defeat Lucifer and stop the Apocalypse.  Sam and Dean are working on all of the angles from their end and, to make it look like I’m not involving myself, I came back to Britain to see what I could find on our end.  Do you think it’s true?  Are wizards descended from fallen angels?”

Luna nodded solemnly.  “We are, although we long ago forgot.  Our magic comes from the Grace that fell with us, it’s what allows us to perform wand magic.  No other magical users can use wands.” 

“What other magical users, Luna?” 

Luna looked at him like he was crazy.  “Surely, you didn’t think we were the only ones with magic?” 

“Uh – I did.  Except for demons, I suppose.” 

Luna shook her head.  “I thought you were more open-minded Harry.  All humans are capable of magic of some kind.  There are three main branches, but of course, there are many twists and shoots off the tree.  Our magic is Enochian, angelic based, but purely human in performance.  Angels can’t use wands.  Prithvi is the magic of humans – many are born with the ability and they pull from the earth and soul for magic.  It’s ancient, as ancient as Adam and Eve, but more recently, in Europe at least, it is attributed to pagans.  Lastly, there is demonic magic – based in hurt, sadness, and betrayal.” 

“Is one kind…better than the others?” 

“By nature, nothing is better – just different.  They are all tools.  A hammer isn’t better than an axe is it?”

“Well, an axe can chop wood much easier.”

Luna grinned.  “Clever, Harry!  Exactly right, but if you’re trying to hang a picture on a wall an axe would be a bit much, wouldn’t it?  But just because we don’t need either doesn’t mean they’re not useful to others.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure that he understood at all.  But it often took time for the true meaning of anything Luna said to fully process in his brain. 

“How do you know all of this, Luna?”

“My mum.”

“You don’t…you don’t talk about her very often.  How did she know?”

“It’s our job – we remember.  We know.  What kind of naturalist would I be if I didn’t know about all of nature?  Our education was quite biased, you know, but that’s the way our society was built.  As for talking about my mum, well, it always seems to make my friends uncomfortable and so no one has ever asked.” 

Harry’s face flushed with embarrassment.  She reached out and touched his hand.  “It’s alright, Harry.  Do you want me to tell you about her?” 

“If you’d like to share, I’d love to hear about her.”

Luna’s whole face lit up.  “She was the best mum in the whole world.  Of course, no disrespect to your mums, Harry.  She smelled like apple blossoms and always had a story.  She taught me to see what others don’t and about how our world came to be.  It was our sacred duty, she told me, to know and remember about the fall from Heaven.  It was through her bloodline that the knowledge was preserved but it was never a weight, just a joy.  The lessons came through songs and poems and parables.  Language holds a lot of magic of its own, you know.”

“She sounds amazing.  You told me once, I remember, that she died while experimenting with magic.”

Luna nodded solemnly.  “Yes, she wanted to find the connection between earth magic and our Enochian magic.  She had quite the penchant for both, but she underestimated the power of using earth and soul to perform magic and it – it consumed her.  It was horrible, but she had learned so much.  Spell creation isn’t as interesting to me, like my father, I prefer to focus on the creatures that magic has created.  It’s a beautiful world.” 

“Luna, Castiel, my brother’s angel friend, he said that you were special, blessed.  Do you know what he meant?”

“Oh, how kind!  I can hear them sometimes – the angels.  They are not always very nice.  Sam and Dean must have good taste to be associated with such a good-natured angel.” 

Harry held back a snort.  That hadn’t been his experience, but he was willing to take Luna’s word for it.  “Do you know where I can find more information about angels and…earthbound magical creatures?  Hermione said that she’s never come across the information in her readings.” 

“Hermione, though I love her, wouldn’t know where to look.  I suppose the Men of Letters’ library at Kendricks would have a lot of information.” 

Harry hadn’t thought of the Men of Letters.  Technically speaking, they were under his department at the Ministry, but they were so well managed that he had never had more than a meeting or two with their leadership.  It never would have occurred to him. 

“Thanks, Luna.”  He looked around – they were almost the last people here.  “It’s getting late.  It’s been a lovely evening, as always.”

“It has been, hasn’t it?  You are welcome to my evenings whenever you would like, Mr. Potter.”

“Thank you very much, Ms. Lovegood.  Oh, but before I forget…” Harry pulled a clumsily wrapped parcel out of his coat.  “Happy early Christmas, Luna.”  The two of them had a tradition.  For Christmas, Harry brought Luna the most difficult puzzle he could find for her to solve.  She loved them.  In return, she would craft a good luck charm for him out of something she found on her travels.  Last year, it had been a statue of a man on a toilet – from Catalonia. 

“You never forget, do you?”

“Of course not.  This one should take you some time though.” 

“Oh, I hope so.  Happy Christmas, Harry.” 

They settled the tab and headed out into the quiet, snowy evening. 

III

Hermione startled slightly when she saw Harry sitting in the chair in front of her desk as she walked into her office for the morning. 

“Harry!  You’re certainly in early.” 

“And a very good morning to you too, Hermione,” Harry said, standing to give his best friend a quick hug. 

“Yes, good morning.  I haven’t even had my coffee yet – you know the morning tea is not strong enough for me.” 

Harry pointed to the quite large mug on her desk. 

“Ah, yes, bless you, Mr. Potter.”  She sat and took a long sip from the warm beverage in front of her. 

“Rosie keep you up again?”

Hermione nodded.  “Yes, every time it snows, she thinks that it’s Christmas and insists on staying up to try and see Father Christmas.  I blame my parents.  Ron is completely amused by it all, you know how she has him wrapped around her pinkie – even keeps helping her bake cookies.  She’s incorrigible.”

“Not unlike her mother.”

“Touché,” Hermione responded, raising her coffee mug.  “Now, how can I help you this morning?  You know that you don’t need to turn up to work until September, right?”

“I know.  Old habits die hard though, you know?  Plus, Ginny gets back tomorrow, so I figure I may as well get some work in before then.  Hermione, what do you know about the Men of Letters?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.  “Only the basics.  They are pretty self-sufficient.  Actually, one of the best-run departments.  Their reports are always on time, never a hair out of place.  I’ve spoken to my Muggle counterpart about them on a couple of occasions, and everything is in ship-shape.  Why the sudden interest?”

“Luna recommended that I go to their library to research to help Sam and Dean.  Do you think they’ll accept a visit from me?” 

Hermione laughed.  “They hardly have a choice, do they?  You’re their boss.  Luna is always so good at thinking outside the box.  I don’t think a site visit has been done in years.  If you don’t mind, I think I’ll accompany you.” 

Harry grinned.  “I hoped you’d say that.  You know that I’m rubbish at book research.  When do you think that we’ll be able to get in?”

“It is rather close to the holidays right now.  Maybe after New Year’s?  I can have my assistant reach out and make sure that we get in on their diary.”  

“I suppose. I’d like to get back to Sam and Dean as soon as possible.” 

“They’ve been alright for the last fourteen years.  I think a couple more weeks won’t hurt anything.” 

“Probably not – although they’ve hardly been alright.  They’ve both died.  Multiple times.”

“Of course.  And I’ll see you at the Burrow for Sunday dinner, right?  Molly is quite beside herself, asking Ron and me if we thought you were taking proper care of yourself.” 

“Of course.  And maybe I’ll stop by even earlier.  Don’t want to worry her.” Harry realized that he had been avoiding his surrogate mother recently.  Her heart was always in the right place, but sometimes Harry, who had grown up without that kind of love, felt a bit overwhelmed by her.  “How about I pick up Rosie and Hugo and bring them home tonight?  I haven’t seen them in ages either.” 

“Sounds great.  I’ll owl Ron.” 

Harry stood up to leave.  “Great – thanks, Hermione.” 

III

Dean poured two drinks – Cas was passed out on a nearby bed. “Well...this is it,” he said

“This is what?” Sam asked as he took a sip.

“Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, Mr. Comatose over there, and possibly a wizard. It’s awesome.

“It’s not funny.  Who knows if Harry will even come back?  We haven’t heard from him in weeks.”

Dean took a drink.  “I’m not laughing.”

Sam sighed and said, “They all say we’ll say yes.”

“I know. It’s getting annoying.”

“What if they’re right?”

“They’re not,” Dean said as he continued to drink.

“I mean, why, why would we, either of us? But...I’ve been weak before.”

“Sam.”

“Michael got Dad to say yes.”

“That was different. Anna was about to kill Mom.  And while this doesn’t help, he got Dad to say yes twice.  You were… dead, but he told me – he possessed him that night, to get Harry out of the way.” 

Sam looked up sharply.  “He confirmed it?”

“Yeah.  He also seemed to think that he couldn’t make a difference, but Sammy, for the first time, I think there is hope.  I don’t think Harry is to be underestimated.  But, as we discussed, he should be the ace up our sleeve.”

Sam chuckled into his drink.  “According to him, you are pretty shit at poker, so maybe cheating is the only way we’ll win.”

“Shut up.”

III

Harry and Hermione apparated to the edge of the wards at Kendricks.  It was just after the winter holidays – Teddy had returned to Hogwarts and school was in session.  The wards were not as extensive as Hogwarts’ but they were still quite strong.  They were just at the edge of a driveway that led up to a beautiful country manor. 

“This school is really quite fascinating,” Hermione was telling Harry. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, it doesn’t date back as far as Hogwarts, of course, but it started as an academy for Squibs in the sixteenth century, under the reign of Queen Elizabeth I.  She co-founded the Men of Letters as part of her very extensive spy network.  Her mother, Anne Boleyn, was a witch, even attended Hogwarts.  Elizabeth was non-magical, of course.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry said, only half-listening, as he had the habit to do when Hermione went on her deep dives of history. 

“The documentation they have here on the Muggle occult is the biggest collection in the world.  It serves as both school and headquarters of the Men of Letters – I really can’t believe that I haven’t come to visit their library yet, there is just so much to read…”

They arrived at the door, where a rather severe woman was waiting for them.  She was smartly dressed in a suit and she had an air that unpleasantly reminded Harry of Umbridge. 

“Good morning Head Auror Potter, Ms. Granger-Weasley, it is my honor to welcome you here at Kendricks Academy.  And right on time, as well!  I am Dr. Hess, the Headmistress.”

They all shook hands. 

“The pleasure is all ours, Headmistress,” Hermione replied, with a polite smile.  “We realized that our department has been remiss in checking in on the school and the Men of Letters.”

The headmistress smiled a smile that sent chills up Harry’s spine and took all of his training not to reach for his wand.  Maybe they should have come earlier.

“We like to keep everything in ship-shape, of course, so that such meetings are not required very often.  But as I said, to have one such as Head Auror Potter here, is such an honor.  Please, come in, we can speak in my office before the official schedule starts for the day.”

Tea had been laid out in a beautiful and well-lit office.  During the walk over here, Harry had seen some students milling about and walking to classes.  Their uniforms were reminiscent of the Hogwarts robes, which brought back happy memories for him.  The headmistress poured them some tea and they exchanged small talk for a couple of minutes. 

“May I inquire as to what prompted the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to check in on us today?”  The Headmistress asked, trying to be as tactful as possible.  In her experience, a visit from the high higher-ups was never good. 

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances.  Before going, they had agreed that Hermione should do as much of the talking as possible.

“Harry was recently on sabbatical in the United States, working with MACUSA.  While he was there, he encountered some American hunters.”  The headmistress shuddered at the mention of them, but Hermione continued, “And he realized that his education about their British equivalents was poor.  We agreed that it was unacceptable for him not to understand the inner workings of all of those who serve under him, so I requested this meeting today.  I tagged along to get a peek at your library. I've heard so many wonderful things about it, and just haven’t had the chance to stop by.” 

The headmistress did not miss the subtle hint that the Head Auror was her superior.   “Of course.  You are welcome to peruse our library any time you would like, Ms. Granger-Weasley.  And American hunters, how horrid.  Our British hunters are barely suited for the company of others.  From my experience, the Americans are outright uncultured savages.” 

Harry seethed internally.  That was his family she was talking about.  Hermione winced slightly, not daring to look at Harry’s face, knowing how that comment would go over with him. 

“I thought this was a school for hunters?” Harry asked. 

Dr. Hess bristled.  “Certainly not.  This is a school for training the Men of Letters.  We are the brains and organization.  Hunters are our K-9 unit, suitable only for going where we say and doing as we say.” 

Harry said nothing, which Hermione recognized as dangerous.  Before she had the chance to reply, a young man knocked and entered the office after being summoned in.  He was skinny with blonde hair. 

“Head Auror Potter, Ms. Granger-Weasley, may I introduce you to our Head Boy, Mr. Renny Rawlings.  He is top of his class and is here to give you a tour of the school.  He can also give you more information on our curriculum.” 

Harry recognized the excitement on the boy’s face – ‘great, a fan,’ he thought to himself. 

“Mr. Potter, it’s an honor.  You too, Ms. Granger-Weasley.  When Dr. Hess said that we had war heroes coming to visit us, I was delighted that I was chosen to show you around.  I did a project related to your Defense Association and the importance of peer-leaders in education.  It was for my Advanced Wizarding Studies class.” 

“You learned about Dumbledore’s Army … in class?”  Harry asked, perplexed.  “I thought this was a school for Muggles?”

“Squibs,” the headmistress corrected sharply.  “And those descended from them.  I assure you that we have full security under the International Statute of Secrecy to teach what we do.”

“Of course, Dr. Hess, Harry didn’t mean anything by it,” Hermione responded.  “We’re just not used to having any sort of … recognition outside of the wizarding world.” 

“Right, my apologies, Headmistress.”

The woman nodded in acknowledgment.  “I will leave you to your tour.  11 o’clock sharp, Mr. Rawlings, have them in the library,” she said firmly to the young man. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

The three of them left. 

“Kendricks was established in 1592 by Elizabeth the First – and her secret, wizard son.” 

“Arthur Dudley?” Hermione asked. 

The young man looked surprised.  “Yes.  This was before the International Statute of Secrecy, of course, but it could hardly be known that the Queen not only had a son but a wizard one at that.  He attended Beauxbatons, to protect his identity.  It was also ill-advised to have a possible heir to the British throne in Scotland at the time.  But it was said that he was always envious of Hogwarts.  The Queen was quite keen to have spies everywhere – including within the wizarding community and hunters.  The Men of Letters were used as an intermediatory between all those groups and the English government.” 

All of this concerned Harry quite a bit.  He hadn’t realized how ingrained and potentially powerful these Men of Letters were.   

Although the air was quite crisp, Renny took Harry and Hermione outside to look at the grounds.  There was a field, cleared of snow, filled with students with… brooms. 

“Are they playing Quidditch?” Harry asked – observing students running while holding brooms and the iconic three golden hoops, much closer to the ground. 

“Why yes, of course!  It’s a proud tradition here – even though we can’t fly doesn’t mean that we can’t play Quidditch.” 

Harry had a lot of questions – as he didn’t see any enchanted balls flying around, and there was one student wearing gold spandex, but a look from Hermione stopped him from asking so that they could continue with their tour. 

“Would you mind telling us a little more about what you study here, Renny?” Hermione asked as he continued to point out rooms and facilities. 

“Of course.  Students come to Kendricks in Year 7 and most stay through A-levels, although some will stop after the GCSE.  Although only about half of the students make it to 6th form.” 

Hermione frowned.  “That seems like a high level of dropouts.  Where do those students who don’t make it to 6^th form go?”

For half a second, Renny looked uncomfortable, but the expression on his face was gone so quickly that Harry thought he must have imagined it. 

“They just complete their exams elsewhere – we aren’t allowed to repeat here.” 

“That is unusual, but I suppose that academic standards must be very important to the Men of Letters as an organization.”

“We are held to the highest of standards, of course.  Our curriculum is the same as any standard British education, but with added subjects.”

“Such as?”

“Wizarding Studies for one.   The History of British Intelligence.  Magical Theory.  Occult Studies.  Power and Politics, as well – but we don’t ever call it that, we always refer to it as Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 

“Ha!  That’s pretty good.  Too bad I would have been pants at it if that is what they taught during DADA.” 

“I don’t know Harry – with the Defense Professors we had kind of had a crash course in power and politics.” 

They approached a room and stopped.  Renny seemed hesitant.  “We have about half an hour before we have to be in the library.  This is my Advanced Wizarding Studies class right now.  It would be quite the honor and the highlight of the year if you agreed to speak to them.”

Harry was horrified.  He would rather not – Teddy excluded, he was slightly terrified of school children.  They were never afraid to ask anything. 

“Oh, the honor would be entirely ours,” Hermione said for her best friend.  Harry glared and she gave him a sugary sweet smile.  “I think it would be best if Harry went in by himself though, no one ever really wants to speak to me when he’s in the room.  And I’d love this time to explore the library on my own for a bit.” 

“I’m going to kill you,” Harry mouthed at Hermione.  She winked at him.  Renny looked thrilled. 

“That would be wonderful!  Hawkins!” he called to a younger student that had been walking past them.  “Would you kindly escort Ms. Granger-Weasley to the library?” 

The student’s eyes got wide.  “Of course,” she squeaked, clearly a bit star-struck.  “Are you really Hermione Granger?” Harry heard the student ask as the two went off down the hallway. 

“Right this way, Head Auror Potter,” Renny said, opening the door to the classroom. 

In front of the room, there was a man with greying hair dressed in a Muggle suit.  There were perhaps a dozen students sitting in neat rows.  On the blackboard behind him was a diagram of Hogwarts.  And even more disconcerting – a list that seemed to name all that had been present at the Battle. 

“Mr. Rawlings.  I thought the headmistress had requested your presence for… who is that?”

“Professor Gabbly, this is Head Auror Potter.  I was assigned to show him around.  We have a couple of minutes before his next scheduled meeting and he graciously agreed to come and speak to our class.” 

A gasp had gone through the room when Renny had stated who was with him – whispers broke out among the students.  Harry hated it. 

“Well done, Mr. Rawlings.  Mr. Potter, it is truly an honor,” the professor said, extending a hand.  Harry shook it firmly. 

“Uh – are you teaching about the Battle of Hogwarts?” Harry asked, still distracted by the board at the front of the class. 

“Oh yes, Modern Wizarding History is a very important part of the curriculum.  This is why the students are so excited at the moment.  Silence!”  He called and the murmuring stopped.  “This is an extremely rare opportunity – I don’t even know the last time a wizard visited Kendricks, much less one of Mr. Potter’s status.  Mr. Potter, this particular group of students are studying to become liaisons to the wizarding world once they’ve graduated.  Would you permit them to ask you some questions?  Of course, if there is anything you do not wish to answer, you do not have to.”

Harry was backed into a corner.  He put on his best, “dealing with the press” face and responded.  “Alright.  Although I do have a strict end time of eleven, is that correct, Renny?”

“Ten before would be best.” 

“Alright.  What questions do you have for me?”

III

Later that evening, Harry was having Ron, Hermione, and the kids over for dinner.  It was something of a Friday night tradition.  Sunday dinner was for the entire Weasley family, but Friday nights were for Harry.  (Which, of course, didn’t mean that there weren’t any other Weasley’s at Friday night dinners – there was a standing invitation for all extended members of Harry’s “family.”)

Ron came out of the fireplace with Rose in his arms first.  “Uncle Harry!” she cried, squirming to get out of her father’s arms. 

“Alright, alright,” Ron said, “I can see who the favorite is here.”  He put her down and she came running over to Harry, who was crouched down to her level to receive a hug.

“Rosie!  My very favorite goddaughter.  What did you learn in school this week?” 

Rose, much like her mother, was highly intelligent and loved nothing more than to talk about what she was learning.  “Nan and I did puzzles!  Mine made a dragon and it roared.” 

“Oh yeah, was it a scary dragon?”

“No, it was a nice dragon!  How silly Uncle Harry – all dragons are nice.”

“Oh yeah, and who did you learn that from?”

“Uncle Charlie!”

“Of course.  Well, I hope you’re hungry, I made your favorite.”

“Sgetti?” 

At that moment, Hermione arrived with Hugo.  She was looking rather hassled.  “Sorry for the delay – Ronald, your son is stubborn,” she said, handing the baby over to her husband. 

“Oh yes, dear?  And where did he learn that from?” 

“Dada,” Hugo said. 

“Traitor,” Ron said, smiling.  “Harry, I’m starving, is the food ready?  I’ve heard that you and Hermione had quite the day.”

“Yeah, of course.”  Harry turned back to Rose and offered her his hand, “May I have the pleasure of escorting this lovely little lady to the dining room?”

Rose took it immediately and responded politely, “Yes, you may.” 

As the five of them sat to eat, Harry and Hermione started to fill Ron in on what they had learned.  They described the unpleasant Headmistress and the odd non-magical version of Quidditch they had seen the students playing.

“And then, your wife left me alone with a classroom full of children.”

“You weren’t alone!  There was a professor there.  And I only did it so that I could have some time unescorted in the library.  The books they have there…” 

“Good?” Ron asked. 

“Extensive.  I didn’t know that there was so much literature about demonic creatures.  Or angels.” 

“More than Hogwarts?”

“As far as I know, Hogwarts doesn’t have any books on anything other than our type of magic.  From our meeting with the Board of Supervisors, I have a feeling that the Men of Letters have been keeping this information for themselves for quite some time.” 

Harry snorted.  “Hoarding, more like.  They seemed miffed that we were there at all – it’s been a very long time since they’ve had any sort of oversight.  One of the students asked me if it was possible to imbue magic into a Muggle item – if this is what students are thinking about, I shudder to think of what sort of research their operatives have done.”

“What, like cursed objects?  Or using things for Muggle baiting?”

A dark look crossed Harry’s face.  “They were talking about the Killing Curse.”

Ron dropped the spoon he had been using to feed Hugo.  “Oh.”

“Yeah – now you can see why Hermione and I have decided that it would be best to permanently assign someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to serve as liaison and contact with the department.” 

“Who were you thinking?” 

“We were thinking Dennis or Justin – if either is up to the task.  Both already work for the Ministry, plus…” Harry started. 

“Plus, you’d prefer a member of the DA?”  Ron asked, connecting the dots. 

“Both are highly qualified,” Hermione defended.  The ethics behind the logic made Hermione uncomfortable – she didn’t want to use her position to put her friends in high places, but when it came to deeply important assignments, having someone from their inner circle always had an advantage. 

“I’m sure they are,” Ron replied.  “I think Justin might be the better fit – you told me earlier that they were toff bastards?  He’s got the right family background to blend right in, put them at ease.”  Even though he no longer worked with them officially, he was still the chief strategist of the group. 

“Good thinking, I’ll ask him first,” Hermione said.  “Can you believe that they told me that I couldn’t check out any of the books?  Technically speaking, I’m superior to everyone in their organization.  But more importantly, it’s a library. It should be accessible to all.” 

Harry laughed – the notion that anyone thought they could keep books from Hermione Granger-Weasley had another thing coming. 

Ron had a similar thought.  “You didn’t let that stop you, did you?”  he asked, somewhat warily. 

Hermione bristled.  “Of course not.  I had already made copies of several of the books before the meeting and then transfigured them to smuggle them out.  But it was the principal of the matter.”

“Can I…” Harry started.

“Already have copies in your study.  And copies have been sent via international Owl post to your friend Bobby’s house.”

“You’re the best, Hermione.”

“I know.” 

The three talked until both children had fallen asleep.  The small family had just left when Harry heard a voice over the mirror. 

“Harry Potter.” 

He picked it up.  “Hey, Dean – everything alright?”

“Uh – yeah.  Any luck so far?”

“We did just come across some information in our archives.  Hermione has it on its way to Bobby’s – books about angels.  I haven’t had a chance to look through them yet.”

“Good…good.  Sam and I had a little…encounter with Michael recently.  He confirmed that he was the one possessing Dad that night so…”

That hit Harry like a ton of bricks.  “So, he really didn’t want me to leave.”

“No, he didn’t.” 

Silence. 

“I guess…I guess it’s good for me to know.  I have a couple of leads I’d like to follow and seeing as we’re trying to keep our connection quiet for as long as possible, I do need some more time.” 

“Yeah.  Understood.”

“Er – keep me up to date, though?  If you’re in a sticky spot, let me know, I can be there pretty much immediately.” 

“Will do.”

Dean was gone. 

Harry sighed and put down the mirror.  He sat at his desk and massaged his temples. 

“Told you your brothers were annoying,” came a familiar voice immediately in front of him.  Harry looked up, wand at the ready.  When he saw who it was, he set it down.

“Gabriel.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Three: Chapter Nine – Gabriel

Previously… 

Harry sighed and put down the mirror.  He sat at his desk and massaged his temples.  

“Told you your brothers were annoying,” came a familiar voice immediately in front of him.  Harry looked up, wand at the ready.  When he saw who it was, he set it down.

“Gabriel.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Season 5 – Episode 18 (Point of No Return)

“You’ve not been a very good Savior, young Harry,” Gabriel said. 

Harry raised an eyebrow.  “How do you figure?”

“I offered you a deal – something that I don’t take lightly.  All you had to do was stay away from two morons that you don’t know and don’t have anything in common with – except for a few chromosomes.  And now Michael knows you’re back.  That means that it is only a matter of time before Lucifer knows as well.” 

“What’s it to you?  Surely they both already know wizards exist?”

Gabriel’s eyes flashed dangerously.  “They know.  And until your involvement, they didn’t care.”

“I don’t see how my involvement changes anything.” 

Gabriel waved his hand – knocking Harry down to the floor.  He crossed over to the side of the desk where Harry had been seated, slammed him against the wall, and pulled him up to face level.  “Listen here you half-witted, vacuous, short-sighted, brat – I have personally protected your kind for eons.  You aim to undo all of that work in a matter of weeks.”  He let go of his grip and Harry fell to the floor in a heap.  Gabriel proceeded to pick Harry up again and slam him into a chair.  He pressed two fingers to Harry’s forehead. 

All of sudden, Harry was not in his study at Grimmauld Place anymore.  They weren’t in the modern world at all.  This appeared to be a memory, but the most vivid and detailed that Harry had ever been in.  He felt like he was breathing in the humid air and he could feel the magic in the air.  Pure, powerful magic.  

“Is this … Egypt?” They were in a torch-lit chamber that had an altar in the middle and walls covered with hieroglyphics. 

Gabriel was to his left.  “Not a complete idiot, then. Yes, this is ancient Egypt.  We’re in a temple – one dedicated to magic.” 

Two men walked in the room – bronzed and skinny.  They were speaking a language that Harry didn’t recognize.  There was something about the taller of the two – the same white glow and wings that he saw whenever there was an angel present.  “Is that…you?”

“Well spotted,” Gabriel said sarcastically.  “Yes, this illusion is a memory of mine from about 3206 B.C. – when I was working with the first of your kind.  They didn’t know of their angelic origins but they were beginning to learn of the magic they all shared.  This generation didn’t know me as Gabriel, however, to them … I was Heka.” 

It looked like the two men were crafting something – a wand perhaps.  Harry watched and said nothing. 

“Heka,” Gabriel repeated. 

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Yeah, it should.  What do they teach you in history class at Hogwarts these days if you don’t know who Heka is?” 

“I don’t remember much from History of Magic – mostly it was Goblin Rebellions, and some very prejudicial statements about American wizards thrown in,” Harry shrugged.  “Professor Binns hates Americans.”

Gabriel frowned.  “You didn’t learn where magic comes from?”

“As far as I knew, before quite recently, it always was.  But I suppose I do recall something about the first wizarding culture being the Ancient Egyptians.  Hermione, I’m sure, knows far more.” 

“Well, that’s upsetting. Salazar and I created quite the comprehensive curriculum.  Heka is the Ancient Egyptian God of Magic.  Me.  They used to say that Heka existed before duality – before there were wizards and Muggles, to put it in lay man’s terms.”

“I thought Sam and Dean said that you were Loki.”

“Sam and Dean are idiots.  I am Loki.  Around the 4^th century, Heka was largely forgotten, and I needed a new face because,” Gabriel snapped his fingers and the scene changed, “this happened.” 

They were in a mass complex – beautiful Grecian columns and lots of light.  Gabriel led Harry inside, where people were milling about everywhere and each wall was stacked high with bookshelves that held thousands upon thousands of scrolls.

“What is this place?”  Harry asked. 

“This is the Library at Alexandria,” Gabriel replied.  “And the very first organized school of magic.”  The two of them walked down a corridor and into what would be the modern equivalent of a classroom.  Harry recognized Gabriel in his Heka form, standing in the middle of a ring of students, speaking, in what he could only assume to be Ancient Greek.  All of the students looked fascinated. 

“What are you teaching them?”

“The Ancient World equivalent to Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Roughly translated though – this was a course in defeating demons of my brother’s creation.  A war was coming and I was preparing the wizards of the city to defend it.”

Although he couldn’t understand what was being said, Harry did see the connection between Gabriel and the students.  They were all much older than the traditional Hogwarts age and in between the serious talk and preparation, they all appeared to be close friends.  The archangel was particularly engaged and animated.  Looking at his current Loki façade, Harry also saw a level of fondness and longing that he hadn’t been expecting. 

“You loved them.”

Gabriel sighed.  “I did.  This library, these students, they were my family.  My brothers.  Better brothers than any of mine in Heaven.  I had been working with some of these wizards’ families for generations.  Out of respect for my Father, I didn’t try to set myself above men – these are descendants  of my garrison.  Heka is not well known by the Muggles because, for most of my time, I allowed no temples to be built for me.  My name was synonymous with magic, which flowed through all and took care of all.  Their magic – your magic – is something so special with so much capacity for good.  Angels were created to be warriors.  Wizards, on the other hand, create.  I thought my Father would be pleased but…” He snapped his fingers.

The scene that followed was all-too-familiar to Harry.  War.  They were surrounded by people fighting.  Wizards were firing off spells in colors that Harry had never seen before – shouting unfamiliar words.  Opposing them were black-eyed demons, having commands shouted at them by one with yellow eyes.  They were using what Harry to assume was demon magic.  It was more primal, almost crude, the way they used hand gestures to deliver terrible violence.  Wizards being flung back – throats being slit.  The smell of death in the air. 

Fighting at the front lines – unlike the yellow-eyed demon commander that stood back from his troops – was Gabriel.  He didn’t need a wand (or – was that bloke using a staff?) and he fought with a force of magic that Harry had never seen before.  The gestures were similar to the demons, but the lights emitting from his hands were bright and his eyes glowed blue with determination. 

Blood, sweat, and chaos reigned.  Harry watched in horror, as it was like reliving the nightmares he was still plagued by.  The power in the air was palatable.  It seemed as though Gabriel’s troops were gaining ground, little-by-little, forcing the demons back.  Every once in a while, the archangel would shout out words to those around him and those words would be repeated all the way to the back.  Harry recognized the group to be a well-trained army, disciplined and righteous.  Even with all the death and destruction, there was hope, there was determination. 

Gabriel helped a wounded wizard up from the ground and yelled something that made the rest of the wizards swallow him back into their folds – safe from the fray. 

The fighting continued for quite some time, and, as hard as it was to watch, Harry could practically smell the impending victory.  That was until a spear came soaring through the air and it hit its target – Gabriel – straight in the heart.  At first, the archangel just stumbled back a bit but seemed to rally as he pulled the spear out.  He looked about widely for the creature that had thrown it, before collapsing on the ground and disappearing. 

They were now standing on ramparts overlooking a coastal city.  There was a fleet of ships docked, and soldiers streaming off in what looked to be Roman military uniforms.  At least from what Harry had seen in films.  He could see the battle that had been waging below from above and it was not looking so good for the wizards.  There was something else… “Are those all demons?”

“Yep.  Julius Caesar made quite the demon deal in his time, he commanded armies of them.  But that’s not what I brought you up here to see,” Gabriel turned around, and Harry followed suit.

Laying on the ground, bleeding was the archangel.  He looked to be in quite a lot of pain.  A second angel, that Harry didn’t recognize, approached the prone Gabriel.  The unknown angel started to speak and just as Harry was about to say something about not understanding what they were saying, the words switched to English.  A translation spell, probably. 

“Brother, you have gotten yourself in quite a bit of trouble,” he said, sounding somewhat bemused,  which seemed inappropriate, considering the fatal wound on Gabriel’s chest.

“Michael.  What are you doing here?  Will you heal me?  I need to get back…”

Michael chuckled.  “Of course, I can heal you, little brother.  Father ordered me down here to look after you.  He was concerned that the army of Lucifer’s demons was going to destroy you and He couldn’t allow that.”  With a glow of white light, Michael placed his hands above Gabriel’s wound and it healed.  He held out a hand to help his younger brother off the ground. 

“Thank you, brother.”  Gabriel turned to get back to the fighting below, but Michael placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Not so fast.”

“What?  Why?  Those people fighting down there are my garrison, my people.  I have to defend them.”

Michael shook his head.  “They are no longer yours to command – they made that choice centuries ago.  Father has decided that your interference with these so-called wizards is no longer acceptable.”

Gabriel just gaped a bit at his brother.

Michael continued, “He fears that your influence, much like Lucifer’s on humans, will lead them down the wrong path.  You have helped them for long enough.  They need to stand on their own two feet now.”  All of this was said pleasantly, but like a parent to an unruly toddler.

“You can’t be serious.  I’m not demonizing human souls.  Father can’t be serious! Look at them!  They’re dying!  I need to help.  Surely the angels could come and…”

“You do not command our Father, Gabriel!” the other angel said fiercely.  “You already got your favor from him – to allow these people to exist at all.  In my view, they are just as unnatural as the demons.  They simply should not be.  Why should Raphael and I send our garrisons to come and fight and die when it is supposed to be your magic users that protect Father’s creation.  And tell me, why is this demon army descending on Alexandria, Gabriel?”

A look of extreme guilt crossed Gabriel’s face.  “I was trying to help – I never imagined…”

“You meddled.  We aren’t meant to live with humans, we are celestial beings.  If you and your wizards hadn't gotten involved in Roman politics, this civil war wouldn’t be happening.  You cannot expect to have Heaven interfere every time you make a mistake.”

“But the library – the knowledge it holds.  The good it can do for this world, for humans.  This is important Michael.  You have to know that.  FATHER HAS TO KNOW THAT.  They’re going to die, all of them.”  Gabriel looked close to tears. 

Michael looked unmoved.  “Father ordered that our angels were to leave your people alone.  And, unlike you, the rest of the angels follow commands.  There is nothing to be done.  He bids you come home now – come back to Heaven, where you belong.  Father has allowed you to have your little rebellion for long enough.”  There was something quite dangerous in the way he said the word rebellion.  

“And if I don’t?” Gabriel asked stubbornly.

Michael shook his head sadly.  “Father says that it is your choice, of course, but He loves you and He misses you.  As do Raphael and I.  Free will isn’t meant for us, we were built for divine purpose.  Frankly, I’m amazed that Father has allowed you to go this far, I wouldn’t have done the same in His shoes.  Come home brother, there is plenty of work to be done.”

Gabriel’s eyes hardened.  “No.”

“No?  You dare defy our Father?”

“You said so yourself, it’s my choice.  I chose to stay here, with my people.”

“So be it.” Michael snapped his fingers.  The spear lodged itself into Gabriel’s shoulder.  He collapsed on the ground, howling in pain.  “My lance will hold you.  When the battle is over, you will be healed, but not before then.  You are to sever your connection with these wizards, to leave this part of Earth if you will not return to Heaven.  That is Father’s command.”

Black ooze gurgled out of Gabriel’s mouth and hatred shot out of his eyes. 

“I know brother,” Michael said condescendingly.  “Father and I love you and this is for the best.”

Gabriel passed out.

Harry watched with horror as the demon army swarmed the wizards.  It looked to be about two hundred to one and while the wizards could take down quite a few – they were simply outnumbered.  And they burned.  The whole city burned. 

The scene faded and they were back in London.  Harry’s head ached from being shoved against the wall earlier and he was suddenly keenly aware of the pain. 

“And so, you see, interfering only leads to death and destruction.  I thought I could train your people to protect others, to be angels amongst men.  But that is not my Father’s will.  Just as it is not my Father’s will for you to be involved with the Winchesters.  You cannot fight it.  It will only lead to the destruction of all you hold dear.”

“That’s your argument?  I shouldn’t do it because God doesn’t want me to?  I don’t give a fuck about what your god does or does not want.”

Gabriel glared.  “You’re a moron.  This isn’t about my Father.  Or yours – both are long gone.  You and I have a lot in common.  We both love our brothers more than they love us.  We’ve both set ourselves apart, found new families.  I’m sure you couldn’t imagine hurting either one of them any more than I could imagine killing any of mine.  The second they think that your interests are different from their own, they will try to destroy you.  And everyone that you love, if need be.  Just like mine did.”

It clicked.  Harry thought all this time Gabriel was trying to protect him from the archangels.  He was actually trying to protect him from Sam and Dean. 

“My brothers are good men, Gabriel.”

“They’re apes.  You’re so much more.”

Harry shook his head.  “I’m not – sure, I’m more powerful than some, maybe most…”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow.  “More powerful than some?  Try the most powerful.  Ever.  I’ve met a lot of wizards in my time.  You are the only one who has ever been able to resist my magic.  And that’s without proper training.”

Harry looked shocked.  “No.  I’m just strong-willed, I can resist your magic for the same reason the Imperius curse doesn’t work on me.  But I’m not the only wizard that can resist it.”

“Resisting me and resisting a curse are entirely different.  But don’t try to deceive me as you have deceived yourself.  In your brothers’ world, you are my counterpart and I showed you how that ends.  In your world, you are the true heir of Ignotus.  The third brother.  The wise brother.” 

“I’m second-born.”

“Semantics.  With the Winchesters, you will always be considered third.  You are humble – not arrogant like your brothers.  And you are the Master of Death.” 

“No, no,” Harry refused to accept that title.  “I’ve kept the cloak.  That’s it.  The wand – it’s safe, the stone, it’s lost.  Without those two…”

“No one else has had them since, so they are still yours.  They are a part of you, you brilliant young man who has lived through so much.  You are Death’s Master.  You fulfilled your destiny and you were meant to live a peaceful life, as a reward, like your ancestor before you.  You have so much power but the wisdom to use it for good and not for your own benefit.  Not for your own glory.  You deserve a peaceful life.  Please, Harry, accept it.  Meet Death as a friend after a long life.  Leave your brothers to their fates and follies.  It’s what I have done and I am better for it.  Your brothers are like mine.  Only capable of destroying themselves and everyone around them, you are meant for so much more.  Don’t make me watch you burn.” 

“You want me to be like you.  You want me to run away from my brothers instead of helping them.”

Gabriel’s eyes flashed.  “They don’t need your help destroying themselves.  I want you to be wise.  I want you to think before acting.”

“Are you kidding me?  I’m a bloody Gryffindor, that’s not in my skill set.” 

“You are so much more than a Gryffindor.  So much more than your Winchester blood.  You are better than them.”  

“How can you say that?  I’m not better than anyone.  Worse than most.”

Gabriel shook his head.  “You’re not.  Don’t you see what John did to you?  What being a Winchester has done to you?  Without them, you would have accepted your place long ago.  The wizarding world shows you the respect you deserve.  I won’t ask you again and I can’t interfere, I learned that lesson long ago.  I’ve made my case Harry, Master of Death.  If you won’t listen, well that’s on you.  I can’t stop you from the dark path that follows getting involved with the creatures your brothers fight.”

He was gone. 

Harry needed a drink.

III

“Harry Potter,” Sam said into his small mirror.  His brother appeared immediately. 

“Sam.  It’s been a while.  Did you get the books that Hermione has been sending you?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to thank her for those, Bobby has been especially appreciative.  But I’m calling because we need you.  Dean has decided that he has to say, ‘yes’ to Michael, but the angels – they’ve…” He stopped short.  Although he had been all for bringing Harry at the beginning, he was questioning if that was a good idea or not.

“What have they done?”  Harry asked after a couple of minutes of silence. 

“They resurrected Adam.”

“Adam?  Our half-brother?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m on my way.  Where are you?” 

“Bobby’s.”

He left the mirror.  Harry quickly grabbed his “go” bag that Hermione had insisted he prepare months ago.  (He’d never admit it, but she was right – it was nice that he didn’t have to think about it.)  He took an international portkey to his flat in New York and once he had recovered from the dizziness, he apparated to Bobby’s. 

He didn’t bother knocking, just opened the door, but he was surprised to see a young man standing right on the other side.  He was the same height as Dean, but a slighter build. 

Behind him, Sam appeared, asking, “Going somewhere?”  Upon seeing the shorter man in the doorway, he said, “Harry!  That was quick.”  

Harry entered, blocking the exit of the young man.  He was wearing his “Winchester” face.

“Who’s this?” the youngest Winchester demanded. 

“That’s Harry…”

“Henry Winchester, at your service,” Harry interrupted, offering out a hand.  Adam didn’t take it. 

“Winchester.  The angels didn’t mention you.  And are you … British?” 

“They wouldn’t, would they?  They’re, overall, not very fond.  And yes, I’m the international chapter of the Winchester family.” 

“Have a seat, Adam.  This is Harry, our brother – he was born between Dean and I.  Didn’t grow up with us though.” 

“You didn’t mention him earlier, you know, when you pitched this whole dewy-eyed bromance thing. But the truth is, I'm on lockdown, aren't I?  That’s why you called in the calvary.” 

Sam crossed his arms.  “Adam, you may not believe it, but Dad was trying to protect you.  You’re lucky that you didn’t have the same kind of upbringing as Dean and me.  Keeping you from all of this was the best thing he ever did as a father.”

Harry snorted.  Sam shot him a look.  “What?”  Harry asked.

“You’re not helping,” the hunter accused.   

“Yeah, well, I guess the monster that ate me didn't get that memo,” Adam said, agreeing with Harry.

“You remember that?” 

“Oh yeah.”

“Still, trust me. The one thing worse than seeing Dad once a year was seeing him all year.”

“Do you know how full of crap you are?”

“I have to say, Sam, I agree with the kid.” 

Both looked at him. 

“Harry, you of all people should know how bad Dad was at his worst.” 

“Yeah, I remember him locking me in this house for my protection. Sound familiar to you?”

“That’s not…”  Sam spluttered. 

“You are so full of crap. You see, it was me and it was my mom.  That's it.  She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital.  I cooked my own dinners.  I put myself to bed.  So, you can say whatever you want about our dad, but the truth is, I would have taken anything.”

Harry nodded in agreement.  “I know that I put on quite the show of being pissed after John said he was going to keep me here.  And I was angry, but it was also the first time, the only time, an adult in my life followed through with taking responsibility.  I know you’re angry at him, Sam, and you have the right to be, but you don’t know what it’s like to grow up with no father at all.” 

Sam glared.  “I called you for help – not so that I could be tag-teamed.  Look, if we had known we had a brother, we would have found you.”  The last part was said for Harry’s benefit.  The wizard didn’t see any point in responding to the barb.  Sam turned his attention back to Adam, “Look, I can't change the past. I wish I could. But from here on out—"

“What? We gonna hop in the family truckster? Pop on down to Wally World?”

“Tell you one thing, with an attitude like that, you would have fit right in around here.  I’m going to go check on Dean – Harry, see you if you can reason with him.” 

Sam left and went downstairs. 

“You know, Sam called me in for help but didn’t fill me in.  Last I heard you were, well, dead.  Angels brought you back?  Why?” 

“To be Michael’s vessel.”

“Instead of Dean?”

“Yeah – apparently I’m plan B.  Where the hell did you come from?  The angels didn’t mention you and until you showed up, neither had Sam and Dean.  Did you get the John Winchester once a year baseball treatment as well?” 

Harry sighed.  And summoned some whisky.  Adam looked at him with wide eyes.  “Oh, I’m a wizard, sorry, forgot to mention.  Non-demonic.”  He started to pour some into a glass.  “You want some?”

“Uh – yeah.”

“My history is, well, very complicated, and probably more than you want to hear.  To put it succinctly, I was stolen from John and Mary as a baby.  I found out about John and the boys when I was fourteen when my godfather sent me to live with them for a summer.  The angels interfered.  Sam and Dean forgot who I was and I thought they didn’t want to see me. Fourteen years later, I finally worked up the courage to come back.  The point is angels are not to be trusted – whatever they promised you, they must have an ulterior motive.”  Harry noticed that Cas had come up the stairs.  “Except for my favorite uncle here.”

“You have an angel for an uncle?”

“No,” Cas responded. “Henry just likes to … irritate me.”

“You like to piss off angels?” Adam asked incredulously. 

Harry shrugged.  “Everyone needs a hobby.  It’s less that he’s my personal uncle, more like his kind are the aunts and uncles to mine.  Plus, he reminds me of my Uncle Vernon.”

“Cas reminds you of the son-of-a-bitch that abused you as a child?”  Bobby rolled into the room. 

“I wasn’t abused,” Harry said sharply. 

Bobby raised an eyebrow.  He looked like he was going to say something else, but Sam came back upstairs.  The look on his face said that his conversation with Dean did not go well. 

“How’s he doing?”  Bobby asked.

Sam shrugged and scoffed. 

“How are you doing?” 

Sam didn’t respond. 

“Why doesn’t someone tell me what in Merlin’s name is going on here?”

“What’s going on is that I called you to help, and so far, you’ve not been particularly useful.”

“I’m not your pet wizard, Sam.”  Harry shot back, irritated.  “And I can hardly help if I don’t have the facts.”

The other men in the room looked at each other.  Finally, it was Bobby that spoke up.  “We’re getting close.  The angels are getting desperate, and they raised Adam from the dead to…I don’t know, take Dean’s place as Michael’s vessel.” 

“Yeah, he told me that.  Is that possible?”

“Cas thinks so,” Bobby responded. 

Harry let out a breath.  “And you’re on board with this?” he asked, directing the question at Adam. 

“Well, yeah – the angels, they said that they would let me see my mom.  Which is all I want.”

“I certainly understand wanting that.  Merlin knows what I would give to see my mum again.  Either of them.”

“You have two moms?”

“Three if you include Molly, which I do.  And they said if you became Michael’s vessel that they would give her to you?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t trust them.”

“That’s what they said about Sam and Dean.”

“But not me?”

“They didn’t even mention you.”

“Doesn’t that prove that they’re untrustworthy?  They certainly know about me.”

Adam didn’t say anything to that.  

“I’m going to go check on Dean – he’s in the basement?  Why is he in the basement?”

“He’s a flight risk,” Sam explained.  “We have a panic room down there.” 

Harry frowned and apparated downstairs. 

He found himself in a small room that had a devil’s trap on the floor and odd white symbols on the walls.  And one extremely pissed-off Dean Winchester. 

“Hey,” Harry said. 

“Harry.  Good.  You wanna let me out of here?”

Harry folded his arms.  “What are you going to do if I do?”

Dean huffed.  “None of your fucking business.  I see Sam’s already gotten you on his side.  It’s those damn puppy eyes.”

“Woah, I’m not on anyone’s side.  But if no one tells me what the hell is going on, how am I supposed to help?  Talk to me, Dean.  I haven’t heard from you in a month and all of sudden we have another brother, who seems like a delight, let me tell you, and Sam has locked you up in a dungeon.” 

The scowl on Dean’s face grew deeper.  “There’s nothing else to talk about.  I’m all talked out.  Now, you’re either going to help me or not.  If not, fuck off.”

Harry pulled his wand out.  He was beyond pissed off.  “If one of you twats doesn’t tell me what is going on…”

“You’re going to what?  Blow up a TV again, like you did when we were kids?”

“Depulso,” Harry said, as he felt his anger building, pointing his wand anywhere but towards his brother.  A bookshelf came crashing down from the wall.  Thankfully it didn’t make a dent in the iron.

Seconds later, the door came flying open. 

“Dean, are you ok?” Cas asked, very concerned.

“Thanks, Harry,” Dean said as he pressed his hand against a sigil drawn from his blood.  Cas screamed and Harry felt the familiar squeeze of apparition – but it was involuntary as if he were being side-along apparated.  It happened too quickly for him to fight and before he knew it, he was back in his flat in New York. 

He shook his head, dizzy from the sudden sensation.  Oh, and Merlin, was he angry.  He trembled – and a bolt of lightning struck in the distance and the loud sound of thunder followed quickly after.  ‘Breathe,’ he told himself, ‘just breathe.  We don’t want another volcanic eruption like the last time.’  The last time Harry had been this angry, he had been with his friends in Iceland.  Eyjafjallajökull had erupted quite unexpectedly and grounded about 100,000 Muggle airplanes.  He was no longer welcome in Iceland and had to face a quite angry-faced European Union court.  Especially because if anyone other than his closest friends knew that he could cause weather phenomena when he was upset, he’d be looked up in some sort of mind healer’s ward.  Thankfully no one had died – Muggle or wizard –  so he had ultimately gotten off with a slap-on-the-wrist. 

He counted to ten.  Brought down his blood pressure – the freak thunderstorm stopped.  He counted down from ten.  Alright, he thought to himself, back to Bobby’s.  Before leaving he summoned a couple of bottles of firewhiskey.  He felt like he was going to need it to get through any more time with his brothers.

He apparated back to Bobby’s study. 

Immediately two guns were on him.  

Harry held up his hands.  “At ease, gentlemen, it’s just me.”

“Where the hell have you been?”  Bobby asked as he lowered his gun. 

“Whatever Dean did blasted me back to New York.  I took a couple of minutes to calm myself, and to bring some whiskey.  Did he get out?”

“Dude, you were gone for hours.”

Harry blinked.  “Really?” 

“Yeah – Dean got out, but Cas brought him back.  A little banged up, but he’s back in the panic room.  You best be planning fixin’ that dent you put in the wall.” 

“And Adam’s gone,” Sam added, upset that Harry hadn’t been there to stop him. 

“The angels took him,” Bobby explained, glaring at Sam.  “Wasn’t nothin’ any of us could have done.”

“What in Merlin’s saggy left testicle did Dean do to me?” 

Bobby and Sam looked at him like he was crazy.  

“It was an Enochian banishing sigil,” Cas entered the conversation.  “It should not have had any effect on you.”

“But it did.  Is it because wizards are descended from angels?”

Cas frowned and looked at Harry as if he had never seen him before.  “It should not work on humans at all…you are different from other wizards.  How?” 

Harry laughed nervously.   “I bet it works on all of us.  So, what’s the game plan?  Do we know where they’ve stashed Adam?” 

All the men in the room saw through Harry’s change in subject.  At the moment, there were matters of greater import. 

“Why don’t you two fill him in?  I’ll go get Dean,” Sam said. 

“Sam, are you sure…” Cas started.  A glare from Sam shut him up.  He left the room, leaving Harry alone with Cas and Bobby.

“Cas knows where the angels are keeping Adam.  We’re pretty sure it’s a trap for Dean, which is why it’s damn stupid to bring him to go get Adam, but Sam is insisting.  He trusts him.”

Cas scoffed. 

“And you two don’t?”

“No,” Cas replied.  “Dean is weak, and a coward – he is not the man that I thought he was.”

“Bruchum aculeatum,” Harry shot a stinging hex at the angel – the angel had gotten on his last nerve.  It was one thing to insult him, and another thing altogether to take on his family.  Cas recoiled.  “Watch it, that’s my brother you’re talking about.”

Cas raised a hand and Harry was pushed down rather painfully. 

“Flipendo,” Harry shot back.  Cas flew back into the wall. 

“Hey, that’s my house, you idjit,” Bobby complained, seeing a dent in his wall from the flung angel.

Harry ignored him and stood up, but Cas was already back on his feet and moved to punch Harry.  Harry dodged artfully, ducking under Cas’ arms when the angel turned around Harry socked him in the face.  It was not as soft a surface as Harry was expecting and while it did have an impact – it hurt. 

“Ow,” he said, shaking his wrist, backing up a step.  Cas took advantage and barreled into him, knocking him back on the ground.  He punched Harry in the face but immediately after the wizard hit the angel with a quick, “Furnunculus,” and boils sprung up all over Cas’s face.

“Ah!” he shouted and backed up.  Harry was about to go in at him again when he felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. 

“What the hell?” Sam asked.  “Harry, Cas, this is no time for a brawl.  God damnit, can’t anyone just behave for two seconds if I’m not in the room?” 

“He started it,” Harry muttered.  To his pleasure, boils were still exploding with puss on the angel’s face. 

Sam saw the look on Harry’s face and connected the dots.  “Fix him.”  Harry gave him a blank look.  “Now, Harry.”

“Fine, stupid angel,” he replied, and flicked his wand, undoing the jinx. 

Dean’s eyes were wide, looking around the room that had been completely trashed by Harry and Cas’s fight.  “What happened?”

“Cas said something insultin’ and Harry defended your honor like you’re some kind of fairytale princess.  And they made a mess of my study.  Now all of you git – you have a brother to save, and I have some whiskey to drink.”

“Sorry, Bobby – I can fix it.”  Harry did a quick spell that put all the books back in order and fixed the dent in the wall.  He was a little ashamed of his outburst – but Cas had it coming. 

Cas put his hands on Sam and Dean’s shoulders and left without Harry.  The wizard huffed.  “Real mature. Point me.” He saw where they went and followed suit. 

Harry arrived just in time to hear Sam ask, “Tell me again why you don’t just grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there.”

“Because there are at least five angels in there,” Cas replied.

“So, you’re fast,” Dean pointed out.

“They’re faster.”

“I’ll clear them out. You two grab the boy. This is our only chance.”

“Whoa, wait. You’re gonna take on five angels?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that suicide?”

“Maybe it is. But then I won’t have to watch you fail. I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t have the same faith in you that your brothers have.”  He gave Harry a look as he took a box cutter out of his jacket and headed into the building. 

“He’s an arse,” Harry supplied.  “Shall I help him with the angels?”

“Have you ever fought an angel before?”  Dean asked. 

“Other than the little tussle I had with him just now?  No.  Gabriel chucked me about not too long ago, but I wasn’t attacking – just defending.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t let your first time be when the stakes are this high,” Dean said. 

Harry shrugged.  “Pretty sure I could take ‘em, but if you have faith in Cas, I guess I’ll let him take care of them.  You want me to … as you said Sam, shazam in there and grab Adam during the fight?”

“Look Harry, we’re pretty sure all of this is a not-so elaborate trap.  Maybe hang back until it’s clear that we’re super boned for us to get out of there?”  Dean suggested.

Before Harry had a chance to respond to that, they heard a rattling inside, some screams, and then nothing.

“That’s my cue,” Dean said.

“I don’t think so.”  Before Dean could go through the door, Harry moved between his older brother and the entrance, shoving him back slightly and quickly moving through before either man could stop him.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean said, before trying to go straight behind his brother – Sam never would have done this to him.  

“Wait, Dean,” Sam said, stopping his brother from going through the door by placing his arm out in front of him.

“What?” Dean asked. 

“Maybe let him try?” 

Dean aggressively shook him off and looked at Sam like he didn’t recognize him.  “Are you kidding?  Did the two of you plan this?”

“No.  But if this keeps you from saying yes and gets Adam out, then I think this is….”

“Fuck that.” Dean didn’t even let Sam finish speaking.

Meanwhile, Harry had apparated the short distance from the door to the inside of the room.  He found Adam, crumpled on the floor.  “Adam!  Are you alright?”

“You came for me,” Adam responded. 

“Yeah, of course, what’d you think would happen?”  Harry asked as he tried to help Adam up.

“It’s a trap.”

“We know.”

In front of him, Harry heard wings.  In front of him was an almost-bald angel he had never seen before.

“Dean – wait, you’re not Dean,”  he said with some concern.  

Harry stood to full height, ready to fight. “No, I’m not.” 

“Are you … are you Henry?” He seemed genuinely surprised.  “But I got rid of you, years ago.”

“That was you?”

“Well yeah. I will never understand how you Winchesters manage to keep popping up all over the place just when we thought we had you.”

“Avada Kedavra.” Harry channeled all of the anger and hate he had felt towards his father and all the other adults in his who had let him down over the years towards the angel as Dean was entering the room.  The light engulfed him and Dean hurried over to Harry and Adam’s side. 

Zachariah stumbled back, and white light started to drain from around him and for a moment, it looked as though he was going to fall.  Then his eyes flashed blue and he dusted off his suit.

“Did you think your filthy wizard magic could do anything to me, an angel?  You have some nerve, kid.  You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” 

“Did you?” Dean asked from behind. 

Sam came out from behind him, angel blade in hand, ready to attack Zachariah when the angel clenched his fist.  Adam and Sam fell to the ground, gasping for air and spitting up blood.  Harry could feel the tug of the power – but it did not affect him.  But he was smart enough to fall to the ground.  He even conjured some fake blood to come out of his mouth. 

While Dean was having a conversation with the angel, seemingly saying yes, Harry got to work.  He was trying to reverse the spell that was making his brothers sick – but still maintain the illusion.  Harry had just broken through the spell on Adam when Zachariah started calling Michael, “Zodiredo … noco … aberamage … nazodpesade… He’s coming.”

Silently, Harry summoned the angel blade from where it had fallen on the ground.  The room began to shake and fill with light – Dean was still talking, when Harry came up from behind and slammed the blade through Zachariah’s heart.  “That’s for taking away my family, you bastard.”  Light came pouring out of the angel’s mouth and eyes.  Harry took the time to remove the blade only to plunge it in a second time.  Zachariah fell over, dead.  He went in for the third time when Dean put his hand on his shoulder. 

“No time for that, he’s dead.  I’m going to get Sam, you get Adam.” 

Still shaking with fury, Harry ran over to the youngest Winchester, who was in really bad shape.  “I’ve got you,” he said as he put his arm around the younger man and lifted him.  He took out his wand ready to apparate but found that he couldn’t.

“Fuck,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Adam ground out. 

“I can’t apparate out of here – guess we’ll have to get out the old-fashioned way.”  He heaved Adam up so that there was more support and the two of them started slowly walking towards the door that Dean had just gotten Sam through.  The door slammed shut.  Harry and Adam ran over and started pounding on the door. 

“Dean!  Help!” Adam yelled. 

“Alohamora,” Harry tried.  It didn’t work, he tried several more spells, but nothing seemed to make it through whatever was keeping the door shut. 

Before Harry could yell out, or try any other spells, he felt a hand close around his arm.  And suddenly, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Three: Chapter Ten – Hammer of the Gods

Previously 

“I can’t apparate out of here – guess we’ll have to get out the old-fashioned way.”  He heaved Adam up so that there was more support and the two of them started slowly walking towards the door that Dean had just gotten Sam through.  The door slammed shut.  Harry and Adam ran over and started pounding on the door.  

“Dean!  Help!” Adam yelled.  

“Alohamora,” Harry tried.  It didn’t work, he tried several more spells, but nothing seemed to make it through whatever was keeping the door shit.  

Before Harry could yell out, or try any other spells, he felt a hand close around his arm.  And suddenly, he was gone.

Season 5 – Episode 19 (Hammer of the Gods)

Harry found himself no longer in the US at all – but rather in his study at Grimmauld Place.  He looked around wildly, searching to see if Adam was there too.  He was not.  But Gabriel was, and he did not look happy.  

“That was your last get-out-of-jail-free card, Harry,” he said.  

“So much for not interfering!  What the hell are you talking about?  Take me back – I have to help Adam.”  Harry’s portkey was still back in the US and it would take him some time to make another one.  

“Adam is beyond your help now.  Michael has him.  And he very nearly had you too.  Which would put us all up shit creek with no paddle.  I don’t know how to make this any simpler – you have to stay out of this.”  There was true desperation in the angel’s voice.    

Something clicked in Harry’s head.  “Is there more to this crusade of yours than you’ve let on?”     

“Other than trying to protect you and prevent the total destruction of the wizarding race?  That’s pretty much it, bucko.”  

Something about that rang as untrue to Harry.  He crossed his arms.  “There is something you’re not telling me.”

“Ya think?” Gabriel glared back at him.  

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Harry shrugged.  “I really must be going.  Who knows what Sam and Dean might be thinking?  And thanks to you, I’m going to have to go to the Ministry to get a portkey.”  He got up to leave.

Gabriel blocked the way between the wizard and the doorway.  “You can’t go back.”

“Try and stop me,” Harry challenged. 

“You know that I’m an archangel, right?  Have a seat.”  Gabriel flicked his wrist.   

Harry found himself seated behind the desk.  He ground his teeth – he wasn’t accustomed to being overpowered magically. “Alright, I’m sitting.  Gabriel, we’ve gone over this, I’m not going to leave my brothers.  I’m not you.” 

“There is so much more at stake than your brothers.”  Gabriel hissed.  “They have a destiny to fulfill, and it’s a horrible one, sure, but you will only make it so much worse.”  

“You’re talking in riddles – just tell me.”  

Gabriel didn’t have a chance to respond when there was a knock on the door to the study.  

Ginny entered.  “Harry!  The wards said you were back and I thought that … who’s this?”  

Gabriel’s gaze shifted to Harry’s girlfriend.  He didn’t like the look in the angel’s eyes.  At all.  

“This must be the lovely Ginny.  I’m Gabriel, Archangel of the Lord.”  

Ginny didn’t look impressed.  She pursed her lips.  “Oh.  Harry’s told me about you.”

“And I know about you, of course, you are even more gorgeous in person.”  

Harry knew the look that followed on Ginny’s face.  Usually, it meant someone was about to get hexed.  He didn’t want Ginny to get into a tussle with Gabriel.  

“Look, Gabriel, why don’t you just go ahead and do what you do best and run away,” Harry had had quite enough with the angel.  

“You know, I’ve been wasting a lot of time trying to talk you out of this nonsense, but everyone knows you are the most bull-headed of your little gang.  Ginevra, why don’t you have a seat, maybe you can talk some sense into this man.”  

Ginny sat, but she wasn’t happy about it.  “I never have before, I don’t see why now would be any different.”  

“What exactly has he told you about me?”

“Everything.”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow.  “Everything?”

“Yeah.  He showed me Pensieve memories of his encounters with you.  Harry and I don’t have secrets from each other.”  

“Is that so? So,  you’ve known about the Winchesters this whole time.”

“That’s not…” Harry started to say, but the angel silenced him with a spell.  This was a sensitive topic for the couple – Ginny getting back together with him, all those years ago, had been a promise of no more secrets.  Within reason, of course, she didn’t need to know every detail about everything in his life, but the big stuff.  His having two brothers fell into that later category.  

“Your expression tells me everything, my dear.”

“I’m not your dear,” Ginny snapped.  

“If he shared our conversations, you know about the offer I made him.”

“I do.”

“Isn’t that what you want?  A family, a lifetime of peace?”  

Ginny scoffed.  “If you thought for even one second that Harry would accept such an offer, you’ve lost the plot.  This is Harry Potter we’re talking about.  He’s going to do what’s right.  Always.  And I support him.”  

“Do you now?  And, as for no secrets, I happen to know that you have something hidden there in your robes.  Something that you should have given Harry weeks ago.”  

Harry broke the silencing spell.  “Just get out of here, Gabriel.”

The archangel held his hands up in surrender.  “Fine, fine.  But I’ll be seeing you soon.” 

He left.  

“I’m really going to have to speak to Luna about some angel warding,” Harry commented.  “Can’t just have those wankers popping in and out of here whenever they want.  Plus, the light from their wings is enough to give me a migraine.”

“What light?” 

“You know, the bright light coming from the gigantic wings protruding from his back?”

Ginny looked at Harry like he was crazy.  “I didn’t see any light.  Or wings, for that matter.  You sound like Luna.”  

Harry didn’t like that one bit.  Not being compared to Luna, but something else that seemed to point to him being different from other witches and wizards.  

“Look, I have to call my brothers and make sure they’re alright.  We need to talk – can it wait a couple of minutes?”  

“Yes, of course.  I’ll make some tea while you call.  You got some very odd mail while you were away.”

“Great.” 

Harry’s mirror wasn’t on him – he had left it at Bobby’s in his rush to follow Castiel to Van Nuys.  Thankfully, Sirius had had a landline installed in the house (probably knowing how much it would piss his mother off to have a Muggle device in her house).  Harry rarely used it, but about twice a year he would exchange an awkward phone conversation with Dudley to check in on him.  

He wasn’t sure what kind of state Dean would be in after rejecting Michael, so he decided to call Sam, who picked up immediately.  

“Hello?”

“Sam – it’s me.”  

“Harry?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell happened to you?  Is Adam with you?  Are you ok?” 

“Gabriel pulled me out.  Adam… well, Gabriel says that Michael took him.  The arseholes put up anti-apparition wards.  We couldn’t get out and next thing I knew, I was at home in London.”  

“Did Gabriel say where they took him?”  Sam did not sound pleased.  

“He didn’t.  I’m sorry Sam, I tried…”

“Yeah, I know.  But this is becoming a habit of yours, you know?  Pulling a disappearing act when things start to turn south.”

“Sam!” Harry heard in the background.

“What, Dean?” Sam said, replying to his brother.  “You know it’s true.”  

Harry sighed.  As he often had since coming back, he mourned the child that Sam had been all those years ago.  

“It won’t happen again,” he tried to reassure his younger brother.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.  Can we expect to see you soon or are you going to stay in England for another couple of months?”

“I’ll be back.  I’m not an angel – I can’t just appear from across the ocean.  I left my portkey at Bobby’s, so it might take a day or so to get back.  Then we can start the search for Adam.”  

“We’ve already started.”

Sam hung up.  

That put Harry in a decidedly worse mood than he had already been in.  And he had a feeling that the conversation that he was about to have with his girlfriend wasn’t going to make that any better.  He hoped that she had something stronger than tea.  

“You get in contact with your brothers?” Ginny asked as he re-entered the living room.  “You know, it’s still really weird to say that.”  

Harry slumped into an armchair.  “Yes.  I called Sam.  He wasn’t thrilled at my disappearing act.”  

“Did you tell him that you were kidnapped by an archangel?”

“Yeah, I did, he wasn’t impressed.  And honestly, I can’t blame him.  I’ve been quite unreliable when working with them.”  Harry poured himself a cup of tea – wishing it was something else.

Ginny pursed her lips.  Harry hadn’t said much, but from what she had gleaned from Ron and Hermione, Sam had been less than kind.  She wondered if she needed to pay him a little visit.  She knew that she needed to approach the topic of his brothers very carefully.  They had had a massive blow-out over the secret-keeping recently and it was a sore subject.  

“Harry, I know that you said that what your brothers are up to is dangerous, but if an archangel is telling you that you best stay out of it, maybe you should?”  

“If Ron was in trouble would you stay away?”

Ginny glared.  “Not voluntarily.  As you well know.  I won’t stay out of your trouble either if you would tell me what is going on.”  

“Gin, Sam and Dean barely trust me.  I can’t break their trust.  Not again.  They don’t want me telling anyone.”

“Yes, you’ve said that before.  But you know, Ron, Hermione, and myself, we just want to help.”

“I know.  But they’re my family, I have to do this on my own.”

“You listen here, Harry James Potter, I am your family.  Ron and Hermione are your family – you’re a Weasley in all but name, Teddy, and Andromeda.  Luna.  If all they are going to do is bring you grief, then why waste your time with two blokes that treat you like crap?”  

“They don’t treat me like crap,” Harry protested.  

“Don’t they?  I’m not trying to have the same argument with you, Harry.  I’m here, Ron and Hermione are here, we want to help.  At the end of the day, your family is our family.  Please, tell us what’s going on.  We love you.  We want to help.”

Harry clenched his jaw.  He didn’t know it – but it was very Sam-like.  Ginny knew that there was no talking him out of it.  When Harry dug in, he really dug in.  

“Well, you can’t.  Not this time.”  

She sighed.  “Alright, Harry.  But the second you change your mind, I expect a Patronus.  Now – to this mail.  This came for you a while back, not by owl, it just appeared on your desk.”

Ginny handed him a thick envelope.  It was not parchment, so not from a wizarding source.  It looked like a formal wedding invitation.  But what was written on the outside made his blood freeze.  It said, ‘Mr. Harry Potter – Master of Death.’  

Harry stared at it.  

“You going to open it?”  

Harry shook his head.  “Yeah.”  He opened the envelope.  It turned out to be an outer one – there was another, smaller letter inside.  

“Dear Mr. Potter,” it read. “You may not be aware, but the world is in peril.  The old ways are under the threat of this so-called apocalypse.  I have been asked to arrange a meeting of the old Gods – those who’s Earth magic has made them strong for centuries, to discuss what can be done to stop this unnecessary war of the so-called angels of the Judeo-Christian faith.  You may not be familiar with us, especially being a user of Enochian-magic, but as Master-of-Death, you hold unique skills.  Kindly join us for a meeting of minds at the Elysian Fields Hotel…”

The letter went on to stipulate a time and date.  It was signed by Mercury.

Harry had read the Supernatural books, he knew that gods existed, but he had never expected this.  

“What is it?” Ginny asked.  

“It’s an invitation.”  

When he didn’t continue, Ginny prompted him. “An invitation to what?”

“You know, I’m not entirely sure.”  

“Are you going to go?”  

“Yes.  I think this might be a way to help my brothers.”

“Is it going to be dangerous?”  Ginny asked warily.  

“Gin, at this point, I think that just being me is dangerous.  At face value, no.  But with everything going on…it could be.”

“Harry,” she hesitated for a moment.  She didn’t want to start another fight.  

Harry shook his head.  “I know what you’re going to ask.  But, Ginny, you would do anything for your brothers. Merlin, I would do anything for your brothers.  If I can help Sam and Dean, I have to.”  He gave her a pleading look, trying to will her to understand.  

“I understand why you feel that way.  I love you – even with your ‘people saving thing,’ but could you promise me that you’ll at least be careful?”

Harry nodded.  That wasn’t enough for his girlfriend.  She moved to stand directly in front of him to look him in the eyes.  

“Harry, please.  And call for backup if you need it.”  

“I’ll be careful,” he consented.  

Ginny didn’t miss the omission but didn’t want to push him on it.  Harry would do everything he could to protect those he loved – even if it meant sacrificing himself.  Sometimes especially if it meant sacrificing himself, it seemed.  She pressed her body against his.  

“You don’t have to go tonight though, do you?” she asked suggestively.  

Harry thought for a moment.  But only one.  Sam and Dean weren’t in immediate danger and he likely wouldn’t be able to get a portkey until the morning anyway.  He pulled her into a kiss.  

“I’ll take that as a no then,” she said, taking his hand to lead him out of the room.  Harry followed her without saying a word.  

III

A couple of days later, Harry was back in the States.  He had gone to Bobby’s, but his brothers weren’t there.  But at least he had his mirror back.  

“Do they go on a hunt, or are they searching for Adam?” Harry asked Bobby.  

“Both, I guess.  They don’t like to stay put for too long.  Your people turn up anything new?”  

Harry shook his head.  “Hermione’s got a team on it and Luna is putting together some information for me on angels, but nothing groundbreaking yet.  In our last misadventure, I did learn that the killing curse doesn’t work on angels.  I tried it on Zachariah, so if it didn’t work on a minion angel, it certainly won’t work on Lucifer or Michael.”   

“Balls.  I was hoping that would work.” 

Hermione had been regularly sending along books to Bobby to try and help, in case the hunter could spot something they could not.  He had suggested that Harry try the spell on an angel.  

“No such luck – should’ve known that it wouldn’t be that easy.  Bobby…” he hesitated for a second, unsure if he should share the bit of news that he had.  

“Yeah, spit it out, boy.”  

“Never mind.  I have a meeting to get to – I may be out of range for a couple of days.  I’m chasing a lead, it may not lead to anything, but I figured it would be worth a shot.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Harry had already left.  Bobby sighed.  These boys were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.  

III

It wasn’t the nicest hotel he had ever been to, but it was certainly better than the motels that Sam and Dean regularly checked into.  The name had made Harry snort – ‘The Elysian Fields.’  These so-called gods were anything but subtle.  He could also feel the magic in the place.  Not magic like Hogwarts, something…wilder, less tamed.  

He walked up to the registration desk – the man standing behind it was certainly not an ordinary Muggle.  

“Ah, Mr. Potter, it is an honor to meet you.  Checking in?”

“Uh – thank you.  And yes please, I believe I have a reservation under my name.”

“Everything is in order, here is your key card.  However, before you head to your room, Mr. Odinson would like a word, if you are amenable.”

Harry nodded his head.  

“Excellent, you can find him in the conference room on the second floor.”

“Thank you.”  Something was not right here.  Every instinct in Harry’s body was telling him that this was not a safe place to be.  It kept him alert, but it certainly wasn’t going to stop him.  Especially if there was something these gods could do to help.  

Still, that didn’t stop him from keeping his wand within easy drawing distance as he entered the conference room.  It was an ordinary room, but the man sitting in a chair at the head of the table certainly wasn’t.  Although his visage was young – around Harry’s age, the wizard could tell that this was someone ancient.  And powerful.  

“Mr. Potter, so glad you could make it.  I know that coming all the way from London was quite the journey.  Please, have a seat.”  

Warily, Harry sat across from the god on the other side of the table.  “Mr … Odinson?  I’m afraid I’ve not had the pleasure.”

“Oh, of course, how rude of me, my apologies.  Please, call me Baldur.”  

Harry inclined his head.  “You must call me Harry then.  You are the … god of the summer sun?”

The god looked pleased.  “That’s correct.  I thought that they stopped teaching Norse mythology at Hogwarts after the Norman Invasion.”

“Yes, our History of Magic curriculum left much to be desired.  My familiarity comes from my godson.  He went through quite the pagan phase a couple of years back.  I have to admit, I was rather surprised by your invitation.  It wasn’t until quite recently that I even knew that gods still walked among us.  And while I am well-known in my own circles, I wasn’t aware that my fame extended any further than the wizarding world.”  Harry was trying to play it exceptionally cool.  Thankfully, he now had many years of diplomatic meetings, as the Ministry loved to trot him out in front of visiting dignitaries, so he had some idea of how to act.  

“How modest you are Harry.  Not only are you an extraordinarily powerful wizard, The-Man-Who-Conquered, surely you understand that being the Master of Death might add to your notoriety?”

Harry did his best not to physically bristle.  The invitation had been addressed to him, as Master of Death, but he did not like the title and didn’t believe in its power.  “I’m afraid that you are mistaken.  I do not possess all three of the Hallows, so I cannot possibly be the Master of Death.  I am but an ordinary wizard.”

Baldur’s eyes flashed with irritation.  “Mr. Potter, do not take me for a fool or try to deceive me.  And I abhor liars and tricksters.  You are far from an ordinary wizard, even without the title.  I would not have invited an ordinary wizard to a gathering such as this one.”  

Thinking better than trying to deny it again, Harry asked, “The letter was quite vague.  What kind of gathering is this?”  

“The kind of great importance.  You would not have been invited if I did not think you were an asset.  As for the exact agenda, I’m afraid you will have to wait for the meeting tonight, where all will become clear.  Let me assure you, you will not find it to be a waste of your time.  In the meantime, please feel free to mingle.  You are the youngest one here and I believe that the others will be quite interested – many of our attendees are in the lobby or the bar.  You will find the official itinerary in your room.”  

Harry recognized a dismissal when he heard one, so he stood up to leave.  “Very well.  I will see you tonight.”  

As soon as he was on the other side of the door, he let out a deep breath.  He needed to speak with Hermione and see how much reading and research he could do before the meeting tonight.  He was beginning to regret the decision to come here as he walked back down to the lobby.  So distracted by his thoughts, he ran headlong into someone much larger than himself.  Sam.  Shit.  If Sam was here, that meant that Dean had to be as well.  All of the dread that he had been already feeling tripled.    

“Harry!” Sam said with surprise.  “What are you doing here?”  

As they were in the lobby, several people looked at the two of them with interest.  Harry gave the slightest head shake he could before responding.  “I’m sorry sir, for bumping into you.  How clumsy of me.”

“Harry…what….?”

“You must be a fan,” Harry said a little louder than strictly needed, for the benefit of anyone around him.  “It’s always nice to be appreciated.  Would you like an autograph?”  

“What…?”

“It’s the least I could do,” Harry silently conjured a piece of paper and a pen before pulling them out of his pocket.  “To whom should I make it out to?”

“Sam?”  The youngest Winchester was extremely confused.  And worried.  

“Ah, excellent, Cam, it is a pleasure to meet you.”  Harry scribbled something on the paper quickly and handed it back to his brother.  He patted Sam on the back before quickly getting on an elevator to go up to his room, hoping to avoid any more awkward conversation.

Sam looked down at the piece of paper and swore.  Written on it was, “Not safe, get Dean and leave.”  He had told Dean that they shouldn’t stop here.  He hurried up to his room – just as Dean was leaving.  Sam quickly pushed his brother through the door and closed it behind them.  

“What the hell, Sam?”

“Harry’s here.”  

“What?”

“Harry’s here.  I just ran into him in the lobby.  He pretended not to know me and slipped me this note.”  He handed the note over to Dean, who read it quickly.  And made a face.  

“Does he realize that by telling us that it’s unsafe, that it makes it more likely that we’re going to stay?”  The look on Sam’s face indicated that he might be of a different opinion, which made Dean glare.  “Don’t you say it.  We’re not leaving him here alone.” 

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You thought it.”

“But Dean…”

“No.”  

“Fine.”

Dean pointed a finger at Sam.  “Later, we’re going to have a conversation about your attitude.”     

Sam rolled his eyes and they both headed down to the lobby.  Dean started recounting what he had seen on his exploration of the hotel.

“An elephant?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“Like, an elephant?”

“Like, full-on Babar.”

“So, what the hell is... Where is everybody?  Harry was just here…”  Sam tried to open the doors of the lobby – they didn’t move. 

“Let me guess -- it's locked. So, what -- the roaches check-in, they don't check out?”

“Think about how we got here. That detour on I-90? The friggin' hurricane?”

“You saying we were led here?”

“Like rats in a maze.”

“Do you think that Harry was also tricked into coming here?”

“I don’t know why else he would be here.  Which could mean that someone knows about his connection to us.”

Dean shook his head.  Outside of Bobby and Cas, they hadn’t told a soul who Harry really was.  And it was unlikely that either of those two had shared that information. “Let’s look around a bit – see if we can find him.”

III

Harry’s heart was beating a bit faster knowing that his brothers were around.  Following the official itinerary elegantly printed in his room, he entered the ballroom of the hotel.  He was among one of the first to arrive.  At a table just inside the entrance, sat the hotel clerk.  He had discarded the official-looking name and now wore a bright red one that said, ‘Hello, my name is Mercury.”  Harry said a silent, ‘thank you,’ to Teddy in his head, whose Percy Jackson phase a couple of years back meant that he knew Mercury was Roman, not Greek, and was the God of Messages.  

“So, we meet again Mr. Potter.  I have to say that I was delighted that you accepted our little invitation, it has been a long while since I’ve had direct contact with a wizard.  Please, take your nametag.” 

Appearing magically in front of him, was a nametag that said, ‘Harry Potter, Master of Death.”  Harry took it and frowned slightly.  Silently, he spelled the title off.  He certainly didn’t want Sam and Dean getting any ideas if he happened to run into them while wearing it.  

“The pleasure is all mine,” Harry replied, forcing a smile on his face.  

“Please, enjoy yourself.  Dinner will be served shortly.”  

Harry looked around the room.  There were three tables set up with white linen tablecloths – twelve places were set.  Baldur was standing near the head table, speaking to a very attractive woman in a red dress.  When he saw Harry out of the corner of his eye, he called him over. 

“Harry!  You made it, lovely, come meet Kali.”  

Harry didn’t see that he had much of a choice, so he walked over.  The woman looked him up and down, making him feel a bit uncomfortable.  

“Harry,” he said, sticking out his head for a shake.

“Kali,” she responded, taking the hand delicately – almost as if it disgusted her.  She turned to the other man…god.  “Baldur, I don’t know what you were thinking, inviting a wizard here.  They’re the reason we can no longer holiday in London.”  

“Ah Kali, don’t be rude.  You know that Harry is no regular wizard.  Surely you can feel the power rolling off of him.  And who knows?  Maybe Enochian magic will be useful when taking on Michael and Lucifer.”  

“Is this what this whole meeting is about?” Harry asked, surprised.  Maybe Sam and Dean being here was a coincidence and they weren’t in danger at all.  

“Sorry – spoiler alert.  Yes, we have had quite enough of this Judeo-Christian apocalypse, which is why we have invited the most powerful non-Christian entities to have a dialogue in a safe space.  We even have some special guests of honor to help with any … negotiations.  Ah – I see my father, Odin, has arrived, I must speak with him, please, excuse me.”  

Harry did not like being described as among the most powerful entities in the world – he simply did not believe that to be true.  He was also extremely worried about the guests of honor, knowing that Sam and Dean were currently in this hotel but not in this room.  

He was also left standing awkwardly near Kali, who was just giving him a death glare.  “Uh – a couple of years ago I got to visit Mayavin Patashala in Varanasi.  I was impressed by the elemental magic courses that they teach there.  And it was quite beautiful as well.”    

Kali sniffed.  “It is a superior school of magic to Hogwarts, although that’s hardly saying much.  Everyone knows Westerners are inferior magic users.  Using wood for wands, honestly, ivory is a much better conduit.”  

Before Harry had a chance to defend the honor of his alma mater two men pushed his brothers into the room.   He tried to do his best to look disinterested as he took his seat at the table, but his heart was pounding as the two men wrestled Sam and Dean into chairs facing the rest of them.  Dean muttered something that Harry couldn’t hear before Mercury reappeared.  

“Dinner is served,” he announced, revealing a human head on a platter.  Harry wanted to throw up.  He had no idea that this was what gods ate – Teddy would be very disappointed if he knew.  

Baldur clinked his champagne flute.  “Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming. In all my centuries, I never thought I'd see this. This many gods under one roof.”  

This was, of course, when Sam spotted Harry.  His eyes went wide and then hardened. “Dean, gods?” he whispered urgently, inclining his head towards Harry.  

Dean looked towards Harry, surprised.  With as slight of a movement as possible Harry shook his head, no.  

Baldur continued, “Now, before we get down to brass tacks, some ground rules. No slaughtering each other. Curb your wrath. Oh, and uh, keep your hands off the local virgins. We're trying to keep a low profile here.”  There was some general grumbling in the room at that pronouncement.  

“Is Harry a god?” Dean mouthed at Sam.  Sam shrugged slightly.  He doubted it, but there was something that their brother wasn’t telling them.  

“Now we all know why we're here. The Judeo-Christian apocalypse looms over us. I know we've all had our little disagreements in the past. The time has come to put those aside and look toward the future. Because if we don't, we won't have one. Now we do have two very valuable bargaining chips. Michael, and Lucifer's vessels. The question is, what do we do now? Anybody have any bright ideas? Speak up. This is a safe room.”  

Harry cleared his throat.  “My apologies Baldur, who are these men?  I know nothing of this apocalypse, perhaps I shouldn’t be here.”

“I must say I agree,” a man with the name tag saying ‘Zao Shen,’ said in Mandarin.  Somehow, Harry understood it.  Someone must have cast a translation charm.  “I don’t know why this man is here, he is but a child, not even a century old.  Hardly a god at all.”  

“Are you saying that magic users aren’t worthy to be gods?  This man is mèt nan lanmò and is to be respected,” Baron Samedi replied, seemingly offended on Harry’s behalf.    

“They’re basically angels aren’t they?” Zao Shen shot back.  

“Ha!  Not all magic comes from heaven,” the Baron argued.  “I have a healthy respect for lanmò, unlike you.”

“Gentlemen, this is not a helpful conversation.  Mr. Potter, my apologies, most of us here are well-acquainted with the Winchesters.  They are a troublesome pair to our kind, but very valuable to our adversaries.”

“Which is why we should kill them!” Zao Shen said.  

“Why, so that the angels can just bring them back again?” a man with ‘Ganesh’ written on his nametag responded.  

The gods continued to bicker amongst themselves, but Harry was watching Sam and Dean.  They seemed to be dividing their attention between the gods in front of them and each other, communicating with only looks and slight gestures.  As they both stood to try and leave silently, Harry cast a quiet ‘notice-me-not’ charm on them.  It didn’t work because as they turned to leave, a chandelier crashed down behind them.  Kali was glaring at Harry.  

“Stay,” she said to them. “We have to fight. The archangels -- the only thing they understand is violence. This ends in blood. There is no other way, it's them, or us.”

“With all due respect, ma'am, we haven't even tried talking to them,” Mercury argued with the Indian goddess.  

He started choking under her stare, and when blood started coming out of his mouth, Baldur put a stop to it with a sharp, “Kali!”

“Who asked you?” she demanded of the Roman god.  

Suddenly, the doors to the ballroom whipped open.  Standing in the doorway was Gabriel.  “Can’t we all just get along?” he asked dramatically.  

Sam and Dean tried saying something to him, but he cast a silencing spell on them.  Or whatever the angelic equivalent was.  

“Sam! Dean... It's always ‘wrong place, worst time’ with you muttonheads, huh?”

“Loki,” Baldur said.  Harry remembered that it was Loki that killed Baldur in mythology, so it was no surprise that there was animosity there.

“Baldur. Good seeing you too. I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.”

“Why are you here?” Baldur asked.

“To talk about the elephant in the room.” Ganesh began to stand, indignant.  “Not you. The Apocalypse. We can't stop it, gang. But first things first.” Gabriel turned to Sam and Dean, “The adults need to have a little conversation. Check you later.” He snapped his fingers and the brothers were back in their hotel room. 

III

“Holy crap,” Dean said to Sam as soon as they were inside of their room.  

“No kidding.  Harry’s a god?  What the hell isn’t he telling us?”

“He looked just as confused as us – I didn’t understand what they were saying about him, but there has to be more to this story.”

“Yeah, the more to this story is that he is a liar, who is holding back on us.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Sam.  Wait until we hear his side of the story.”

“Oh, he’s not going to share that willingly,” Gabriel appeared on the couch of the hotel room.  

Dean’s eyes narrowed.  “I should've known. I mean this had your stink all over it from the jump.”

“You think I'm behind this? Please. I'm the Costner to your Houston. I'm here to save your ass.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Sam said sharply.  “You know what Harry is, and you’re gonna tell us.”

Gabriel gave Sam a look.  “Oh, am I?  It doesn’t matter what he is – other than your brother, which I can assure you that he is.  As inconvenient as that is for all of us.”

“Inconvenient?” Sam asked.  

“Yeah, he’s a stubborn little asshole.  I’ve offered him everything I can – including bringing back one of his parents or his beloved godfather if he would just stay the hell away and let things play out as they are supposed to, but the dumbass won’t listen to reason.”

“You could bring our father back?” Dean questioned.  

Gabriel smirked.  “I could, but I won’t and it wasn’t John on the table.  I’m not interested in having more Winchesters in his life.  Or mine, for that matter.  James, Lily, or Sirius were his options and you know, the fool of a brother of yours refused.”

Dean sat.  

“You offered to bring back his parents and he…refused?  For us?”  Sam didn’t understand.  They barely knew Harry and yet…it was all very confusing.  

“Yeah.  For you.  Boy is acting more like the Hufflepuff than the Gryffindor.”  

“We’re not just brave, you know, our chivalry sets Gryffindors apart,” Harry popped into the room just in time to hear that last bit from Gabriel.  

Gabriel snorted.  “And these two jackasses are damsels in distress?”  

Harry frowned.  “Don’t call them that.”

“What jackasses or damsels?”

“Either, preferably.  Evening, all. That was quite the event, wasn’t it?”

Dean and Sam just stared.  

“Er – guys, you alright?  Not still under that silencing spell, are you?”

“What can I say, I’ve made them speechless, I am known for my charming personality,” Gabriel supplied.  

“Did you turn down having one of your wizarding parents back so that you could keep helping us?” Sam blurted out.  

Harry looked at Sam like he was strange.  “I don’t know why Gabriel found that particular bit of information worth sharing.  But, yeah, sure, I guess.  My parents have been at rest for a long time.  I was taught at a young age that no magic could bring back the dead, and honestly, I think that it’s for the best that they remain where they are.”  

“You came back from the dead,” Dean pointed out.  

Harry thought about that at the moment.  “I’m not convinced that I was more than mostly dead.  I was given a choice and I chose to keep fighting.  But this hardly matters right now.  We need to get out of here while we have the chance – these gods are pretty serious about killing you.”  

“Why were you invited?  Are you a god?” Sam asked although he was feeling less heat behind the accusation than he was earlier.  

“Absolutely not.  I’m just a wizard.”

Gabriel snorted.  

“Don’t you start again Gabriel – I will bat boogey your face off.”

“Ooh, I’m shaking in my boots.” 

“Vespertilio muco,” Harry incanted casually.  

Large bats emerged from Gabriel’s nose, causing him to double over and swat around his head.  He canceled the spell quickly and glared at the wizard.  

“I oughta…”

“You should help us.  After all, that’s what you said you were here to do,” Dean said, smirking slightly at the angel.  He was going to have to have Harry try that out on Cas later, if the angel was still alive – it was hilarious.  

“Yeah, why don’t you two just zap us out of here?” Sam asked.  

“No can do,” Gabriel replied, “Kali has you under a blood spell – you’re on a leash, boys.”  

“I’m not under a blood spell,” Harry said.  He had done a quick spell check on himself to be sure.

“Not you – the Muggles.”

“You can’t break the spell?”

“No, and neither can you.  Not while she has their blood.”

“You let her get your blood?” Harry said incredulously.  Wizards were very careful about any part of their bodies that could be taken by someone else.  It was taboo to take another wizard or witch’s blood, hair, or anything else, but that didn’t stop dark wizards if they were determined.  

“We didn’t know!” Dean said.  

Harry cast a quick spell on his brothers – a blue glow enveloped them for a second.  

“What was that?”

“A ward.  I’ll have to reapply it every so often, but it will prevent anyone from taking your blood from you without your consent again.”  

Gabriel nodded with approval.  “It’s also a contraceptive – you’ll thank him for that later.”  

“What?” Sam asked.  

“That spell does something to my…” Dean didn’t finish the sentence. 

Harry shook his head and thought for a moment.  “I wouldn’t have thought of it for that purpose.  It’s a bit crude – they’d have to be thinking about what they didn’t want to give at the very moment of … well, you-know-what.  There are far more practical spells for that.”

There was an awkward pause.  

Dean broke it by just choosing to skip past it.  “Why are you here, anyway – you said that you’re here to pull us out of the fire, but I don’t see a whole lot of that happening.”

Gabriel frowned, “Those guys are either gonna dust you, or use you as bait. Either way, you're uber boned.”

“Wow, 'cause a couple of months ago you were telling us that we need to ‘play our roles’. You're uber boning us!”

“Ohh... The end is still nigh. Michael and Lucifer are gonna dance the lambada, but not tonight. Not here.”

“And why do you care?”

“I don't care.  But, me and Kali we, uh, had a thing.  Chick was all hands.  What can I say?  I'm sentimental.”

“Do they have a chance? Against Satan?” Sam asked.

“Really, Sam?” Dean demanded.

“You got a better idea, Dean?”

“It's a bad idea. Lucifer's gonna turn them into finger paint. So, let's get going while the going's good, hmm?”

“Alright, well if you can’t get us out of here, what are you gonna do?”  

“I’m going in for a bit of the old black magic,” Gabriel said before spritzing his mouth.

“Okay, yeah. Well, whatever. Well, we're gonna take the hors d'oeuvres in the freezer with us.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “There are more people that they are planning on eating?”  

“Yeah, did they leave that off your official agenda?” Sam asked sarcastically.  

“Forget about it,” Gabriel said. “It’s going to be hard enough to get you two mooks out of here.”  

“We can’t leave people behind!” Harry exclaimed.  He was already horrified enough that one Muggle had been killed for food.  

“There’s my little Gryffindor.  What do you think the gods are going to do if they discover their meals missing?” 

“I don’t care.  How many of them are there?”

“A dozen?  Maybe a couple more?” Sam answered.  

“Alright, I can apparate into the freezer, and take them outside.  It will probably take me two trips though – I’ve never side-along apparated with quite that many people before.  Gabriel, wait here with Sam and Dean.  I’ll follow you into Kali’s room under my invisibility cloak, summon the blood, and then come back and get the boys out of here.”

He didn’t even wait for confirmation before disapparating.  

Gabriel turned to the Winchesters, who looked slightly stunned by the quick action.  “Say what you will about Dumbledore, but he made one hell of a warrior out of that kid.”

Dean frowned.  “Dumbledore was the one that everyone is convinced could have stopped our dad from keeping him?”

“Oh yeah.  And they’re right by way – I only know Dumbledore by reputation, but I doubt that he would have allowed his golden boy to stay in the US.  And he also made sure that Harry was raised to never think of what would be in his best interests.  No, he made sure that Harry would be a good little piggy to go to the slaughter when the time came.”

“Harry didn’t mention that,” Sam said, feeling a little sick to his stomach.  

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.  Dumbledore knew that The Chosen One would have to die to defeat Voldemort.  Ruthless to his core, that one.”  Gabriel did not sound like he approved.  

“Isn’t that essentially what you’re trying to do to us?” Dean asked sharply.  

The archangel shrugged.  “I suppose fate and prophecy bind all three of you.  As much as I’d like to go back in time and smite that son-of-a-bitch, look at how well Harry turned out.”  

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.  

Harry popped back into the room.  “Alright, all civilians are out and obliviated.  Ready, Gabriel?”

“Ready, and nice to know that you like to watch,” Gabriel replied with a wink.    

Harry rolled his eyes. “You two stay here,” he said, as he pulled out his invisibility cloak.  Sam and Dean watched with fascination as he disappeared under it.  

“Wait – Harry, will that hide you from Kali?” Sam asked, concerned.  

Gabriel scoffed.  “I can’t even see him right now.  That thing will hide him from Death himself, so I think he’ll be safe.”  

The two of them disappeared.  

“Oh yeah, Harry’s got all sorts of ‘splaining to do,” Dean said.  “I don’t remember reading or hearing anything that suggested that he owned a cloak to hide him from Death.  No wonder he was pissed when Dad took it away from him.”

“But then why would the Reapers have seen him when he put it on?”  Sam asked.  

Dean shrugged.  “Hell, if I know.”  

“You know he’s hiding things from us,” Sam said evenly.  

“Yeah.  He is.”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“Not really, but honestly, it makes me trust in him just a little bit more.  If he was a completely open book after being back in our lives for six months, I’d be concerned.  He is Dad’s son, after all.”

Sam looked annoyed, as he often did when Dean mentioned one of John’s worse qualities like it was something to be admired.  

“It’s not like we’ve told him everything either.”

“He read our books!” 

Dean gave Sam a look.  “And you and I know that there are things that Chuck left out of those.” 

The youngest Winchester at least at the good grace to look slightly ashamed.  

Harry popped back into the room.  He made a face.  “That was disgusting.  Do either of you have some bleach – I need to wash out my eyes.”  

“I never took you for a prude, Harry,” Dean commented.  

“Did you get our blood?” Sam asked, impatient with Dean.  

Harry pulled two small vials out of thin air and handed one to each of his brothers.  “You should probably destroy those.”

“Why didn’t you do that already?”  

Harry had to think about that.  “It’s a wizard thing.”  He didn’t explain any further.  Sam and Dean smashed the vials into a trash can and threw a match in to destroy the remnants.  

There was a knock on the door – Harry put his hands on one of each of his brother’s shoulders and apparated them all outside where the Impala was parked.  

They looked at each other.  

“…that was easy,” Dean said with some hesitation.  

“Speak for yourself you didn’t have to pretend to be a megalomaniac.  Those gods are insane – do you two have to deal with them often?” Harry asked.  He felt like he needed a shower.  

“Not usually more than one at a time,” Sam replied.

Harry clapped his hands.  “Alright, you two get going.  I’ll catch up with you in a little bit,” he turned to go back into the hotel, but Sam put a hand on him to stop the action.  

“Are you nuts?  Why would you go back?  We’re out free.”

“Gabriel is still in there.”

“So?  He’s an archangel.  I think he can handle himself,” Dean pointed out.  

Harry frowned.  “Weren’t they going to summon Lucifer?”

“Yeah, all the more reason for us to get the hell out of Dodge.”

“But Gabriel…”

“Gabriel once killed me a hundred different ways for a hundred days in a row.”  

Harry thought about that for a moment.  “I understand why you don’t want to save him.  And I’m not asking you to, it’s too dangerous for you to go back in there, but I think that I can…”

“Ah, Harry, I didn’t know you cared!” Gabriel appeared in the backseat of the Impala.  

“Gabriel!”he cried out.  

“Shhh,” the Archangel responded.  “My cover’s blown.  All of you get in the car, act natural.”  

The three Winchesters quickly climbed into the car.  

“What’s going on Gabriel?”

“Kali knew all along – she wanted to steal my archangel blade so that she could use it to kill Michael and Lucifer.”

“Did she get it?” Dean asked urgently. 

“Of course not!  That thing could kill me.”

“How’d you get away?”

“I let her think that she took it from me – it wasn’t the real thing, of course.  She also thought she killed me with it.  But she did manage to snag my blood, so I’m stuck.  Harry, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal, you wanna help me get that back so that we can all vamoose the hell out of here?”

“Is it true that you killed Dean over a hundred times in a row?”

Gabriel had the good grace to look a little sheepish.  “Well, yeah, but you know, all’s well that ends well?  Your Deano is right here, safe and sound.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said.  “Dean, start the car.”  Dean started to turn the key.  

“No, wait!  Look, I can help you.”  

“I’m listening,” Dean said.  

“First, you gotta help me get my blood back.  Harry, Kali likes you, and you don’t have to get very close to summon it off her.” 

Dean started to turn the key again, disgusted.  “No.  Hand over the real blade.  Better yet, why don't you sack up and help us take down Lucifer.”

“You can't be serious.”

“Deadly.”

“Since when are you butt buddies with a bunch of monsters?  That's all they are to you, aren't they?”

“Alright, you know, Sam was right. It's nuts, but it's the best idea I've heard, so unless you have a better one?”

“Well, good luck with that.  Me?  I'm blowing Jonestown.  Those lemmings wanna run off a cliff, that's their business.”

“I see right through you, you know that?  The smart-ass shell, the whole “I could give a crap” thing?  Believe me, it takes one to know one.”

“That so?”

“Yes.  And maybe those freaks in there aren't your blood but they are your family.”

“They just stabbed me in the friggin’ heart!”

“Maybe, but you still give a crap about 'em, don't you?”

“Dean.”

“Now they're gonna die in there, without you.”

“I can't kill my brother.”

Harry snorted.  

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you of all people, Harry.”  

“I thought that your brothers didn’t care about you, so why should you care about them?”  Harry retorted.  “Either you love them and you can’t kill them, or you don’t care, so it should be no skin off your back.”

“Harry…” Gabriel said warningly.  Harry glared.  “Fine.  You and me though, these lump-heads stay here.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean said.  

“Dean,” Harry started.  

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

“He has a point…”

“Harry, you’re not going in there without us.”  This came, surprisingly, from Sam.    

Harry huffed. “You know, I could just knock you two out and go in anyway.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Dean said.  

Harry shrugged.  “I might, I’d prefer not to.  Come on – I’ll stay under my cloak the whole time, Gabriel can do his whole invisible angel thing, and they won’t even know we’re there.”

“We’ll give you ten minutes.  After that, we’re coming in.” 

“Sam!”

“What, they have a point.  We’re not going anywhere, this way, if they run into a problem, we can go in guns blazing.”

“Five minutes,” Dean countered. 

“Eight,” Harry tried. 

“Six.” 

“Fine.  Six minutes, we better hurry.”

“Wait,” Gabriel said. 

“What?” Harry asked.  

“Dean, take this,” Gabriel handed over a DVD.  “Guard this with your life.  Ok, let’s go.”  

The two apparated into the hotel lobby.  Immediately they saw dead bodies on the floor.  “Is that…”

“Yeah, that’s Mercury.  My brother is here.  You need to go.”

“But your blood.”

“Won’t matter.”

“Kali?”

That made Gabriel hesitate.  “Alright.  Get under your cloak, if we get up there and she’s still alive, you grab her and go.  Also…”

“Also, what?” 

“I left a gift for you at your house.  In your godfather’s room, because I know that you don’t allow anyone else in there.  It is a last resort.  Do not tell Sam or Dean – if Michael or Lucifer knew that you had it, it would be game over.”

“Ok.  What is it?”

“Doesn’t matter now.  I need you to promise me, Harry.  Not a word to anyone about it.”  

Harry could tell that he wasn’t joking.  “Alright, I promise.”  A wave of magic passed over Harry.  Shit, that was some kind of unbreakable vow.  

“They’re in the ballroom.  And Lucifer has put up wards – I can feel them, you’re going to have to walk out of here.” 

The two of them ran up the stairs to the ballroom, Harry under his cloak.  

Drama Queen that he was, Gabriel thrust both doors open.  “Luci, I’m home!”  He announced loudly, angel blade in hand, throwing his brother back, away from the Goddess of Destruction.  “Harry,” he said quietly as Lucifer was getting his bearings.  “Take Kali and leave – now,” he said as he helped Kali up from the floor.

Harry rushed forward and grabbed Kali by the arm, she yelped slightly but seemed to understand.  

“Over a girl?  Really, Gabriel? I mean, I knew you were slumming, but I hope you didn't catch anything.”

“Lucifer, you're my brother.  And I love you. But you are a great big bag of dicks.”

That was the last that Harry heard before getting Kali out of the room.  He removed the cloak as they moved, so she could see who he was.  

“Harry?”

“Yeah, hurry up, we don’t have much time.”  

They ran out of the hotel just as Sam and Dean were already waiting outside the Impala, ready to charge in.

“Guys – that wasn’t even three minutes.”  

Kali looked back and forth between Harry and his brothers.  “You.  You were in league with them all along?  How do you even know them?”

Harry smirked.  “You could say, Sam, Dean, and I go way back.  Quick – get in the car.  We have to get out of here.”

“I’m not getting in that.”

“Just get in the car, princess,” Dean said.  She got in, Harry right behind her.  The three of them sped off as quickly as possible.

III

“What did you just say to me?” Lucifer asked his younger brother, honestly a bit shocked that he dared talk to him in such a way.  It had been so long since he had seen any of his brothers and it almost felt like a miracle that he was able to stand before one of them now.  

“You heard me.  Look at you!  Still so angry that Dad brought home a new baby.  Well, big bro, that is ancient history now.  Dad is gone.  Time to grow up.”

“Watch your tone,” Lucifer snapped back.  

“Oh, poor Luci, he used to be Daddy’s favorite, and now he’s threatened by the wittle humans.  Boo fucking hoo.  You’re not a victim, Lucifer, you’re an older brother, it’s time you acted like one.”  

“I see Michael’s already gotten you on his side,” the devil grumbled.  

“Screw Michael.  Neither of you ever included me in your plans.  Did you even think of talking to me before you went off on your temper tantrum?  No, you assumed that I would just take Michael’s side.  Dad’s side.”

That surprised Lucifer.  “You would have joined me?”  

“No.  But I might’ve been able to talk you down.  Helped you see another way.”

“There is no other way.  There never was.  You have a choice here, Gabriel, stand with me or die.” It was an earnest offer.  

“Uh – no thanks to either, hermano.  I’ve always been one for the third way.” 

Something clicked in Lucifer’s head.  “Your wizards.  That is what this is about.  I’ve heard of them and I have to say that I was proud that you followed in my footsteps, creating something that can destroy humans so easily.  And they aren’t even the subhuman cretins that I made out of human souls.  After I’ve destroyed Michael, I’ll have a look-see and see if there is anything useful in them as a race.”  

Gabriel’s eyes flashed.  “You will do no such thing,” he said.  

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.  “There you go again, giving me attitude.  You never would’ve had the nerve when Dad was around.”  

“Yeah, well, Dad’s gone.  I’ve got a whole lot more than nerve now.”  

“Brother, please don’t make me do this,” Lucifer pleaded.  

“No one makes us do anything,” Gabriel replied.  Behind Lucifer, another Gabriel stealthily pulled out his archangel blade.  

“I know you think you’re doing the right thing.  But I know where your heart truly lies.”  He turned, quickly grabbed the blade out of Gabriel’s grip, and plunged it into his younger brother’s chest.  

“Amateur,” Lucifer commented.  “Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother.” With a final push, Gabriel fell to the ground, dead.  Lucifer glanced around the room at the destruction and gave his fallen brother one last mournful look before vanishing. 

Gabriel reappeared in the room.  He ran a hand through his hair.  “Seems the time in the cage dulled your senses Lucifer,” he said to himself before leaving the hotel himself.  He had some arrangements to make.  Lucifer was going to regret dismissing his younger brother yet again.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Three: Chapter Eleven – Master of Death

Season Five: Episode 20 – The Devil You Know

“Oh, uh, oh!  Oh, man!” Sam exclaimed as he slammed his laptop shut.  Harry had been standing a couple of feet back, to avoid causing any magical interference from occurring, he had never been so grateful for his little technology problem.  The last thing he wanted to see was a porno featuring Gabriel.

“Horsemen, huh?  Well, we got War's and nicked Famine's.  That's two down.  Collect all four?  All we need is Pestilence and Death,” Dean commented.

Sam and Dean had filled Harry in on the whole, ‘Horsemen,’ situation.  Harry was a little wary of it all – with everything Gabriel had said about him being Master of Death, he didn’t want to do anything to cross Death’s path. 

“Oh, is that all?” Sam asked. 

“We should also find Adam and Cas at some point, too.”

Harry’s head snapped up.  “Castiel is still missing?”

“Uh – yeah, don’t you think he’d be here otherwise?” Sam questioned. 

The middle Winchester shrugged.  “I don’t know – I suppose I don’t know how often he tags along.”

“Wait, does that mean that you know where Adam is?” Dean asked, realizing that the wizard didn’t seem concerned about the youngest Winchester. 

“Not exactly.  Gabriel told me that Michael had him.  None of the spells I’ve usually used to locate people are working – so I just sort of assumed that he was out of reach.”

“You might have mentioned that earlier,” Dean said, somewhat angrily. 

“I did.  I told Sam that Michael had him.  Also, there was kind of a lot going on.  You know – with gods and the Devil trying to kill you,” Harry shot back.

“Whatever – can you find Cas?” Sam asked. 

Harry did a quick spell.  “He’s in New Orleans.” 

“New Orleans,” Dean deadpanned. 

“That’s what the spell says.” 

“Great, how are we supposed to go after horsemen and Cas at the same time?  That’s clear on the other side of the country, and Bobby’s lead on Pestilence is in Eastern Nevada.  Going to Louisiana is going to set us so far behind…”

Harry raised his hand.

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Yes, we don’t have time for you to be cute.”

Harry pointed to himself.  “Wizard here.  I can go check in on Castiel.  I can be in New Orleans within a minute and back in time to help you out before you’ve even made the drive to Nevada.” 

Dean inclined his head.  Harry had a good point.  “Alright.  Do you want to take Sam with you?  Cas could be in danger.”

Harry turned to his younger brother, who looked slightly annoyed to be volunteered.  “Not that I wouldn’t love Sam’s company, I think it’s probably best if I go solo.  Of the three of us, I’m the only one not on the ‘Angels Most Wanted List.’” 

“Ok.  You’ll call when you find him?” Dean asked. 

“Of course.”  With that, Harry apparated away. 

III

New Orleans had always been a bit of a safe haven for the American wizarding world.  Harry had never been, but he had heard of it.  They had said it was the most magic-laden city in the States, and Harry had to admit that he could feel it from the second he landed.  Maybe it was the humidity, but there was a thickness to the air – so much so that you could almost taste it. 

Once he arrived, he cast ‘point me,’ again to hone in on Castiel.  He was beginning to regret not bringing one of his brothers with him, he was hardly the angel’s favorite person.  The wizard was somewhat surprised when the spell led him to a hospital.  He stood outside for a second to think on how to proceed – cursing silently that he didn’t have a picture of the angel.

“Excuse me, miss?”  Harry politely asked the woman behind the main desk. 

“Yes sir?  Are you here to be admitted?  If so, please fill out this paperwork, and someone will be with you as soon as possible,” she said this, not unkindly, but rather with someone who was trying to manage far too much all at the same time. 

“No, I’m not hurt.  I’m looking for someone – my uncle.  He went missing a little over a week ago and I’ve been trying all the local hospitals.”  He gave a short description of Castiel. 

The woman frowned slightly.  “We did have a John Doe brought in recently that might match your description.  Please have a seat, I will get to you shortly.”

Harry sat, impatiently, because he knew that the angel was here.  Fifteen minutes later, a nurse approached him. 

“Good evening sir, I heard that you have been inquiring after one of our John Does.  Please follow me for identification.”

Harry stood and followed her.  She took him to a room, where sure enough, there was Castiel, lying, unconscious in the bed. 

“Oh thank Mer- God.  This is my uncle.  Where did you find him?  Is he alright?”

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information just yet, but if you would like to sit with him while you get all the paperwork filled out, you can do so.  You’re such a good nephew, looking after your uncle in this way.”

And she did have a mountain of paperwork for him.  It may as well have been written in Gobbledygook for all that Harry understood.  Harry sighed.  He pulled out his mirror and cast a quick illusion charm on it so that if any Muggles spotted him with it, they would just think it was a normal mobile. 

“Sam Winchester,” he said, knowing that Dean was driving. 

“Harry,” his younger brother answered.  “Did you find Cas?”  Sam wasn’t one for pleasantries. 

“Yeah.  He’s in a hospital in New Orleans – unconscious.  I have to fill in a million forms before they’ll tell me what is going on, but I’m assuming that this isn’t normal for an angel at all.”

“Angels don’t sleep.”

“At all?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, well definitely cause for concern then.  I’ll fill you in when I know more.”

“Great, thanks.”

He hung up.

Next, Harry called Kayla. 

“Mr. Potter, how can I be of service?” She asked, answering her mirror promptly. 

“Yes Ms. Bluebonnet, I need a team down at the Tulane Medical Center.  Preferably someone who understands your crazy Muggle health care system.  I also need you to see about transferring a patient to a wizarding hospital.” 

“Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s not me, it's…a friend of mine.” 

Kayla seemed to hesitate for a moment.  “Is it one of the Winchesters?  Because magical hospitals won’t take in No-Majes.  There are very strict laws about that here.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair.  He didn’t know that there were such laws, although, he supposed, they made sense.  “It is not.  And this patient is no Muggle.”

“Very good.  I will have someone dispatched within ten minutes.  What room are you in?”

III

It had taken some finagling, but after a couple of hours, Harry managed to get Castiel transferred to the local equivalent of Saint Mungos.  They were in a special closed-to-the-public ward for Harry’s privacy.  Which Harry was very happy about, especially considering how confused the healers were.  Before even examining the angel, they had all sorts of questions. 

“Mr. Potter, you said this man was found on a shrimping boat?”

Harry had gotten the Muggle story from the last hospital.  He nodded.  “Yes, I suspect that it was an apparating issue.  Uncle Cas here, you see, was in California, and I think he was trying to go further than his magic would allow after being attacked.”

“I’m sorry, did you say Uncle?” The healer asked, looking rapidly between the angel and Harry.  Also, she made a mental note to inform the head of the department.  If this was a family member of Harry Potter’s, that increased the amount of security and priority they would need for this patient. 

 “My apologies Healer Morrison. As you know, I am an orphan without any blood relations left.  My Muggle uncle died several years ago.  Uncle Cas is an honorary uncle, and even though he isn’t blood…” Harry sniffed slightly for effect.  “He just means so much to me and when he went missing I was so worried. Please, help him.”  He hoped he wasn’t laying it on too thick.  When he saw some tears form in the corner of the healer’s eyes, he knew that he had gotten it about right.  She was touched. 

“Of course, Mr. Potter. The whole world knows about your family situation.  My apologies for bringing it up.  I’ll just start in on the tests, then,” she said. 

Harry held his breath for a moment.  He was hoping that the composition of angels would be close enough to wizards that the healer wouldn’t notice that she had a celestial being in the bed. 

She frowned slightly.  “It does seem that his core is extended – nearly depleted.  A botched apparition wouldn’t normally but…”  She went back to concentrating on her work.  She performed several charms before summoning potions, which she spelled into the angel. 

Suddenly, Castiel gasped for air and opened his eyes.  He looked around frantically, “Where am I?  What is happening?” he demanded.

Harry stood quickly and gestured for the healer to move aside. 

“Uncle Castiel, it’s alright.  You’re safe.”

Cas glared upon recognizing the wizard speaking to him.  “What happened?  Did Dea-“

“Shh, don’t try to speak. We’ve all been so concerned,” Harry said, cutting off the angel, trying to never have the names Dean or Sam associated with him.  “You ended up in a Muggle hospital of all places.  Of course, as soon as I found you, I had you transferred to someplace with proper magical care.  Healer Morrison had to do work to restore your magical core.” 

The angel looked more confused than ever, “I don’t have…oh.”  Something seemed to click in that thick head of his. 

“Healer Morrison, thank you so much for helping my uncle.  Might I have a couple of minutes with him alone?”

The healer looked surprised.  “He’s only just stable, he may need…” she saw the seriousness in Harry’s eyes.  “I suppose a couple of minutes couldn’t hurt, Mr. Potter.  But remember, sir, he’s quite ill, we haven’t even healed the wounds on his chest.”

“Thanks, Healer Morrison.  Just give us five minutes?”

“Alright, I’ll go fetch some balms and potions.”

Harry waited a couple of seconds before erecting some wards and putting up privacy spells.  “Ok, we can talk now.  Castiel, what happened?  Sam and Dean thought you were dead.  The doctors in the Muggle hospital thought you were brain dead.”

“I – I’m not sure.  Are Sam and Dean alright?  Did Dean give himself over to Michael?”

Harry gave a brief rundown on what happened that night and what had been happening since.  “Look, we don’t have long before the healer comes back.  If she asks, you’re a wizard.”

“I am not a wizard. I can just tell her that I am an Angel of the Lord.” 

“Not if you don’t want to end up surrounded by mind healers.  Look, you’re close enough that whatever spells and potions they used already worked, and, from my limited understanding, they would not have worked on a Muggle.  Maybe it’s for the best that you say as little as possible.  As soon as you are healed up enough, we’ll get back to Sam and Dean.”

That reminded Harry, and he pulled out his mirror to call Sam, who appeared to still be in the car. 

“Hey Sam, someone would like to say hello,” Harry said, before passing the mirror to Cas. 

“Hello Sam,” Castiel said, in his typical deep deadpan voice. 

“Cas!” Dean shouted from the driver’s seat.  “That you man?  We thought you were dead!”

“Eyes on the road, Dean,” Sam said.  “Cas, we were worried. Glad that you’re alright.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Harry contributed.  “He’s still not back up to snuff so he may have to stay here for a couple of days.”

Cas frowned.  “I assure you, I am quite well.” He tried to sit up in the bed, only to find that he couldn’t hold his body up and he groaned with pain. 

“Mr. Potter!” Healer Morrison exclaimed as she saw Castiel trying to right himself on the bed.  “What is the meaning of this?  I told you this man is still very sick.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Harry said contritely and in a way that made Sam, in the mirror, laugh.  “Shut up Sam,” he muttered.  “I’ll call you back later.” 

III

Sam and Dean entered a dilapidated house with Crowley, who had just popped into their car after they visited the hospital in Nevada. 

“Here we are,” the demon was saying, “My life on the lam.  How the mighty have fallen.  Single-pane glass, used contraception in the fireplace.  The water damage alone…”

“My heart’s bleeding for you,” Dean interrupted.  “Now, how do you know about the rings?”

“Well now…I’ve been keeping a close eye on you lot.”

“We got hex bags,” Sam said.  “We’re hidden from demons.”

“All but one.  That night you broke into my house, our first date, my valet hid a tracking device in your car – a magical coin that easily trumps your little bags o’bones.  It allows me to hear things, too, and my, the things I’ve heard.”

Sam and Dean exchanged concerned glances.  Sam was mentally trying to think of everything they had said about Harry or to him in the time that Crowley was listening.

“What have you heard?” Dean demanded.

“Oh, you know, this and that.  You want to cram the devil back into his box?  It’s a cunning scheme. I want in.” 

Both brothers inwardly sighed with relief. 

“But not just that, of course,” the demon continued.  “From what I understand you’re now the Winchesters Three.  Where is the charming Harry whom I’ve had the pleasure of listening to?  He sounds far more attractive than either of you.”

“That’s none of your damn business,” Dean growled. 

“Oh, protective, are we?  Must be another younger brother then.  Never you mind, the more the merrier in this little crusade of ours.”

“You said you could get us Pestilence,” Dean said, changing the subject as quickly as possible. 

“Well now… I don’t know where he is…per se.  But I do know the demon who does.  He’s what you might call the horsemen’s stable boy.  He handles their itineraries, their personal needs.  He’s who you want – believe me.  He’ll tell us where Sneezy’s at. 

“Well, how do we get him to spill?  Rip out his toenails?”

“No.  Nuts at his pay grade don’t crack.  We bring him here, then I sell him.”

“Sell him?” Sam asked.

“Please.  I’ve sold sin to saints for centuries.  Think I can’t close one little demon?”

“All right, so where’s this demon of yours?”

III

Harry arrived at a broken down, dump of a house, with some surprise.  While he was quite used to the idea that his brothers chose to stay in crappy motel rooms, this was something else entirely.  He hesitantly entered the front door, which wasn’t locked. 

“Dean?  Sam?” He called out. 

“Harry?” Sam came into the main hallway. 

“Yeah, is everything alright?  Why are you in this terrible house?”

“This is Crowley’s place.”

“The demon Crowley?  The one who gave you the Colt?”

“Yeah – he said he knew where Pestilence was.  Of course, he didn’t actually know, but he knows the demon that does.  He took Dean to go get the guy.”

“But not you?”

Sam scowled.  “No, he refused to take me along, so I’m stuck here, just waiting.  It’s been a couple of days – how’s Cas?”

“Still on the mend.  Healers say that he won’t be good to go for another day or two at least.  I’m exhausted from trying to have conversations with him though.  He has mastered staring blankly into space a little too well.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.  What happened?”

“It’s unclear. He gave some fishermen quite the scare by showing up on their boat, bloody and unconscious.  He had carved a sigil into his chest to blast the angels away and he honestly thought it would kill him, so he was pretty surprised to wake up in the hospital, especially a wizarding one.  But he’s been sleeping and eating – which he assures me means that he is quite human at the moment.” 

“That’s scary.” 

“It is.  In other news, he seems to be warming up to witches and wizards in general.  Not me, so much, but I caught him having a pleasant conversation with his healer, so there’s that.” 

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“So, do you want me to go find Dean and make sure he’s alright?”

Sam shook his head.  “There’s something else I have to tell you.”  Harry raised an eyebrow.  The youngest Winchester took a deep breath.  “Crowley knows about you.”

That wasn’t what Harry was expecting to hear.  “How?”

“He had a tracker in the Impala – he’s been listening in on our conversations ever since we got the Colt from him.”

“Damn, I should have thought of that.”

“Listening in on all of our conversations?” Sam asked, alarmed.  “Could you do that?”

“I could, but no, that would be a total invasion of privacy.  Plus, a man can only handle so much classic rock.  I meant putting a tracker on the Impala, that would be the easiest way to track the two of you, instead of using point-me all the time.  Well, they’ll be back soon, so I guess we’ll find out what he knows.”

“You’re not worried?”

Harry shrugged.  “Not particularly.  I’m not going anywhere, so I figure people will find out sooner or later.  I’m sorry, Sam, you’re stuck with me.”

Sam didn’t respond.  The two of them heard the Impala pull into the drive.  Sam tensed.  “That’s gotta be them.”

Sure enough, a couple of seconds after Sam spoke, a man, just a little taller than Harry entered the room.  He had dark hair and was wearing a very nice Muggle suit.  He carried himself like a Malfoy, which made Harry take an immediate dislike to him.  Also, there was something just wrong with his face that Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“Ah, this must be the third Winchester I’ve had the pleasure of hearing so much about.  Your brothers have had quite the conversations about you – ”  He stopped speaking and his eyes went wide.  “This is a wizard,” he said. 

Sam and Harry exchanged looks.  “Yeah.  What’s it to you?  Sam and Dean said that you had been listening in on their conversations.  Didn’t you know that already?”

Crowley continued to stare but did not respond.  Harry didn’t like it.  Sam either, for that matter.  “Where’s Dean?” he asked, sick of waiting for the gawking demon to speak. 

He finally looked away.  “Now, for the record, I begged Dean not to come back here… to you, but he insisted.  This is very delicate business.  But go right ahead.  Go ruin our only chance – our last hope.  It’s only the end of the world.”

Sam’s frown deepened and he went storming in the direction where Dean must be.  Harry went to follow, but the demon put a hand on his arm.  It made Harry’s blood chill.  Every cell in his body screamed, “ENEMY” at him. 

“Hold on.”

It took all of Harry’s self-control not to hex this demon. He hadn’t felt this kind of on-sight hate for anyone since … well, since Voldemort himself. 

“When Sam and Dean talked about having a magic-user of a brother, I assumed that you were a normal witch.  An earth-bound one.  I thought it was funny, the Winchesters being related to something they hunt, and thought it would be entertaining to see how long it would take for them to turn on you.  They talked about you being powerful, but I could never imagine…  Your kind don’t bother with hunters.  Just what exactly do you think that you’re doing here?”

“Uh, they’re my brothers?”

“Shouldn’t matter.  There are laws against this.  Does MACUSA know you’re in contact with hunters?  Last I checked, that would get you in hot water with them.”

Harry crossed his arms and stood up taller.  “I’m British, MACUSA doesn’t have any hold over me.”

“True, MACUSA doesn’t have the same sort of control over its lands as your Ministry, but surely, you’re still bound by their laws.”

“What do you know of the Ministry of Magic?”

“Enough.  Enough to know that my kind isn’t welcome on your soil.  Your pesky Men of Letters have seen to that.”

Harry bristled.  “Those are State secrets you’re bandying about,” he said, with all the authority of the Head Auror of the United Kingdom.  “You will tell me what you know.  All of it.” He moved a little closer to the demon, pulling out his wand, ready to attack.  What he didn’t realize was, in doing so, his hair shifted just slightly and Crowley was able to see his scar. 

Crowley recoiled and stepped away from Harry.  “You’re Harry bloody Potter,” he said with astonishment.  “Harry Potter.  A Winchester.  That … that can’t be … even for you …”

“Can’t it?” Harry asked, menacingly. 

“DEAN!” Crowley yelled.  “You and your Moose get your furry little behinds out here NOW!”

Dean stuck his head outside of the room.  “Crowley.  I’m trying to keep Sam from killing this son-of-a-bitch.”

Sure enough, Harry heard his younger brother yelling, “I’m gonna kill you.”  Dean pushed him out of the room shortly after that. 

“Dean, we need to talk.  Outside.” Crowley demanded. 

“Yeah, why should I?”

“This is no time for questions, you’ve left some very pertinent information out about this brother of yours.” 

Dean glanced at Harry, who shrugged.  Crowley looked determined though.  “Seeing as I gave you no information about Harry, I can’t imagine what you think I ought to have told you.  But alright, Harry, can you keep Sam from killing that demon while Crowley and I go and gossip about you like girls outside?”  He didn’t wait for an answer before following the demon who had popped out of the house. 

As soon as he got out there, Crowley rounded on him. 

“Your brother is Harry Potter,” he said angrily. 

“Really?  I didn’t notice.  And actually, it’s Henry Winchester – the Potters are just the kidnapping sons of bitches that took him from my family.”

“What his name is isn’t important.  Do you know what he is?” 

Dean could tell that Crowley was angry.  Also – “Are you afraid of him?” Dean just couldn’t believe that this demon, so-called “King of the Crossroads” was afraid of his short, generally mild-mannered, younger brother.

“Of course I’m afraid of him, you fucking moron, and you should be too,” Crowley hissed. 

Dean gave him a blank look, truly at a loss. 

“I thought the Brits had him under control.  My sources told me that they were keeping him under a pile of busy work at their Ministry.  But no, here he is, wandering the wilderness of the United States.  The damage he could do.”  He stopped for a moment, his eyes widening.  “Please tell me you tossers haven’t let him anywhere near Lucifer.  That would be, well, that would be game over.”

“What the hell Crowley?” Dean asked, finally losing his temper.  “Either you tell me what the fuck is going on here or we get back to the mission.”

“You don’t know what he is?”

“A wizard, yeah, I know.  Didn’t think that would be enough to scare the mighty Crowley.”

“An ordinary wizard?  No, of course not.  Do you know what that man could do if he wanted?  That’s not just any ol’ wizard in there.  That’s the bloody Master of Death.”

Dean blinked.  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” 

Before Crowley had a chance to respond, a great, green light shone through the window. 

“Shit,” Dean said.

“Was that…”

Both men ran inside the house. 

In the foyer, Sam was standing to the back of the room and Harry was standing over the demon who was slumped over.

“Is he dead?” Dean demanded. 

Harry looked up.  “Yes.”

“God damn it, Harry.  I told you to keep Sam from killing him – not to kill him yourself.  He was our only hope of finding Pestilence.  What the hell did you do?”

“Calm down, Dean, we found out where the horseman was before he killed Brady,” Sam said, coming to Harry’s defense., surprising everyone, including himself. 

“Did you?” 

Harry nodded.

“How?” Crowley asked, inwardly seething that his starring role had been taken over.  Harry turned to glare at him – which made the demon flinch. 

“Harry read his mind,” Sam explained. 

“You can read minds?” Dean asked, alarmed.  Was this what Crowley had been alluding to? 

“The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure.  Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader.  The mind is a complex and many-layered thing,” Harry responded, quoting exactly what Snape had said to him when he had asked something similar, all those years ago.  He thought that he did it some justice, although he lacked Snape’s signature drawl that gave the words dramatic effect.  Mostly, he was tired.  He hated using the killing curse. 

“In English!” Dean demanded. 

“Yeah, he read his mind,” Sam said.  “But he said that he doesn’t do it unless he has to.  Or if he has permission.”

“That seems convenient, how do I know that he’s not reading my mind right now?”

Harry laughed without humor.  “Trust me, Dean, you would know if I was invading your mind.  I’ve never been proficient enough at legilimency to be anything other than a blunt instrument.  But at least now we know – I can AK demons,” he turned purposefully towards Crowley as he said that. 

Crowley put his hands up, “Hey now!  Don’t bite the hand that fed you.” 

“Dean?” Harry asked, looking to his older brother.  Dean shook his head.  “Alright, then.”

Crowley said, “I’ll be in touch,” before promptly vanishing from the room, not taking his chances that Dean would change his mind.

Harry pulled a flask out of seemingly nowhere and started downing its contents.  Sam and Dean looked concerned. 

“Uh – Harry you alright?” Sam asked gently. 

“Will be.  I hate that curse.  Sam – this is going to be hard to hear, but I gotta tell you.  Brady, your friend Brady, was still alive, but just barely.  I spoke with him and he asked for me to end it.  The spell I used, well I don’t use it lightly, but it was the quickest and most painless way to kill both him and the demon.  In the end, he didn’t suffer.  I’m sorry, Sam.” 

Sam honestly didn’t know what to say to that.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that the man that had been his friend was still alive in there.  But he found, in the end, that he wasn’t angry, he was grateful.  Dean would have tried to protect him from that truth but knowing put his mind at ease in a way that he didn’t even know he needed.  “Thanks for telling me, man.”

Harry looked up, surprised.  “You’re welcome?”

“You two done bromancing?” Dean asked. 

Sam narrowed his eyes. 

“What?” Dean defended.  “You said you know where Pestilence is. Care to share?”

Harry told him. 

“Alright, good, we can stop at Bobby’s on our way.  You coming with us?” 

The wizard shook his head.  “No, I think I better get back to Castiel – make sure he’s not blown his cover at the hospital.  But I’ll walk you guys out – make sure there is nothing else planted on the Impala.” He started heading out the door. 

Sam and Dean looked at each other for a second.  “Wait – do you think he’s going to do magic on Baby?” Dean asked, alarmed.  Sam shrugged and Dean hurried out after Harry. 

III

“What did Crowley want to talk to you about?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Dean,” Sam could see how tense his brother was.  Something had happened between the two of them. 

Dean sighed.  “He’s afraid of Harry.”

“Really?” Sam asked, surprised.  “He just met the kid.  I don’t know how someone like him could be scared of him.”

“Harry’s reputation precedes him,” Dean said tightly. 

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Sam, I don’t know.”

“Dean.”

“Fine.  Crowley says that Harry is the Master of Death, whatever the hell that means.  Does that mean anything to you?”

Sam thought for a moment, trying to remember if he had ever come across the term before in his research.  “No, I don’t think he ever mentioned it.” 

“Me, neither.” 

Tense silence. 

“So, he’s keeping things from us, which we already knew.  But this is bigger than we imagined – especially if Crowley knows about it.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you, Sam, you’re always so quick to jump on him.  We don’t know what it means yet. It could be nothing.  Crowley’s a liar anyway, he’s proven that.”

“Why would Crowley lie about this?  What’s his angle?  Look, I know I haven’t been Harry’s biggest fan, but I don’t think he’s evil.  But you should have seen him in there with Brady – the spell killed him instantly. I’ve never seen anything like it.  Not from a human, at least.  And if he’s so powerful that Crowley is afraid of him and he’s hiding things like this from us…”

“It’s not good, I know,” Dean said tensely.  “But we kind of have bigger fish to fry at the moment, don’t ya think?  Hell, maybe Master of Death means he can help us find the horsemen.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Gabriel knows what he is – maybe Cas does too.”

“If Cas knew, he would have told us already.”

“We’ll just ask Harry the next time we see him, shouldn’t be long before he and Cas are back with us.”

“And if he denies it?  Or won’t tell us?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Fine, but I’m calling Bobby to get him started on some research. We’ve gotta know if he’s dangerous.”

“I don’t doubt that he’s dangerous, Sam.  We’re dangerous.  Cas is dangerous.  It’s a question of who he is dangerous to.”

Sam didn’t respond.  

III

Harry got back to the hospital to find Castiel sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the wall.  He looked at the wizard as he entered the room. 

“Harry.  You’re back.  Did Sam and Dean get Pestilence?”

“Not yet.  But we have the location.  How are you doing?”  Harry didn’t even have it in him to tease Castiel, which normally he took delight in.  The angel noticed.

“Better, I think.  I’m still hungry though.  And in pain.”

“They didn’t give you potions to help with that?”

“They did.”

Harry said nothing.  Castiel looked at him intensely.  (That was the only way that Castiel tended to look at anyone or anything, but that was neither here nor there.)

“I sense…I sense that you are troubled,” the angel finally said, as if the words pained him. “Your facial expressions very closely resemble Dean’s,” he added as a way of explanation.

Harry let out a breath.  “You could say that, yes.”  He also drew out a flask and started to drink.  It seemed to be taking more and more alcohol these days to have much of an effect on him.  He supposed that was something he might worry about - if it wasn’t the only thing keeping him sane.  

“Dean drinks a lot, too,” Castiel observed.  

“Yeah, I guess Dean and I have some things in common.”  He hesitated for a moment.  “Castiel, when you first met me, you disliked me on sight.  Was it visceral hatred that you felt?”

Castiel’s facial expression didn’t change.  “I am not sure what you are asking.”

“Sam and Dean are working with this demon, Crowley.  He is only the second demon I have seen in my life, but being in front of him, I’ve never wanted to kill something so badly.  It was like every cell in my body was calling out for me to end what stood before me.  And then, there was this other demon, who was possessing Sam’s old friend and I…I killed him.  I used a curse that we call unforgivable.  The very worst part is that I don’t feel guilty about it.  It felt...right somehow.  It felt good.”  He was admitting that fact more to himself than he was to the angel.  

“Of course it did,” the angel responded simply. 

Harry looked up.  “What do you mean by that?” he asked sharply.  

“Your kind wasn’t created without a purpose.  You were allowed your magic to combat Lucifer’s demons.  In killing this demon, you were fulfilling your heavenly design.  Perhaps using this…unforgivable curse on one that is not a demon goes against your nature, which is why it weighs on your soul differently.”

“It didn’t just kill the demon though - it killed the Muggle he was possessing as well.”

“How long had the man been possessed?”

“A long time – many years.  I … I spoke with him when I broke into his mind.  He wanted it to end, but still …”

“Humans don’t live long after being possessed by a demon.  Even if the demon leaves voluntarily or by exorcism.  The longer a demon is in a human the less likely the human is to survive.  This man you killed would have died in any case, and far more painfully.”

That took Harry a second to process.  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he said as he took another drink. 

“I don’t care about your feelings,” Castiel responded.  He hesitated.  “But I am beginning to think I was wrong about you – your kind.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.  You are not the abominations that I believed you to be.  The care I’ve gotten from the healers here… It was beyond what I thought I could expect from any humans, much less the fallen.”

“Uh – thank you, I think.”

“You’re welcome.”  The angel looked quite pleased with himself. 

Healer Morrison walked into the room.  “Ah, Mr. Potter you’re back!  My staff didn’t inform me.”

“That’s probably on me – I apparated straight past the checkpoint, sorry about that.” 

“You shouldn’t be able…oh, never mind, you’re you.  Could I speak with you for a moment in the hallway?” She asked. 

Harry looked to Castiel, still blank-faced.  “Sure.”  He was pretty sure that Castiel would be able to hear anything they said in the hallway anyway. 

Once they were outside, the healer put up privacy wards.  “Mr. Potter, with all due respect,” she stopped.

‘Uh oh, this isn’t going to be good,’ Harry thought.

“With all due respect, I don’t believe your uncle in there is a wizard.  He has magic, so we haven’t broken any laws by treating him, but…”

“I know.”

“You know he’s not a wizard,” she said, astonished.  “Don’t you think that information would have been helpful to his treatment?” 

“Would you have treated him if you had known?”

“No.”

He gave her a pointed look. 

“Mr. Potter, this is highly irregular, and if you were any other wizard, I would have reported this up the chain by now.  But, you see, I had family in England.  Without you, they would be lost to me.  I, like the rest of the wizarding world, owe you a debt.  But I’m beginning to get questions, and I cannot guarantee that another healer won’t discover the same and do something about it.”  She gave him a knowing look. 

“I understand.  Thank you for your discretion.  As for your family, I had a lot of help, and I was just doing my job.”

“You were seventeen.”

Harry blushed slightly, he didn’t feel that he deserved all the hero worship and gratitude that came with his defeat of Voldemort.  “That may be.  I will let my uncle know that it’s time for us to go.  Can I trust that you won’t speak of this to anyone?”  He didn’t want to demand an unbreakable vow, but if he had to, he would. 

“No one will learn anything from me.”

“Great. Thank you, Healer Morrison, for everything.” He stuck out his hand.  She ignored it and gave him a big hug.  ‘Americans,’ he thought, as he stood there uncomfortably. 

“No, thank you.  And take good care of Castiel, he’s going to need it.”

“Will do.” 

Harry went back into the room, where Castiel was already out of bed and getting dressed.  Harry didn’t even bat an eye. 

“You ready?”

“Yes.  But I still can’t use my wings. How are we…”

Harry pulled out his portkey, it was a paintbrush.  He handed it to the angel.  “What am I…”

“Portus,” Harry said.  Castiel disappeared.  Harry disapparated after him. 

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Three: Chapter Twelve – Horsemen

Season 5: Episode 21 – Two Minutes to Midnight

When Sam and Dean arrived at Bobby’s, they were surprised that Ellen and Jo were also there.  Jo was no longer in a wheelchair – she had a pair of crutches to get around.  The boys gave the women hugs. 

“Bobby, you didn’t say that the Harvelles were here when we spoke on the phone,” Sam said, worried that the women’s presence was going to hamper their efforts to find out more about Harry.

Bobby snorted, “I couldn’t get a word in edgewise when you called, plus you two keep adding more research to my plate, I had to call in the calvary.”

“Did you find anything yet?” Sam asked urgently, hoping that Bobby had been able to dig something up before Harry returned to the house. 

“Since you called me a couple of hours ago?  No.  Never heard of this ‘Master of Death’ thing before.  What made you ask?” 

“Something Crowley said,” Dean explained.

“You think that this Master of Death can help with the rings?” Bobby asked. 

“Maybe.”

Bobby could tell that there was a lot more to this story than the boys were letting on.  “Does this have something to do with Harry?” From the look on Dean’s face, Bobby knew that it had to be. 

“Your wizard intern?” Ellen asked.  “Is he involved in all of this?  Bobby said that you found him again after he saved Jo.  He won’t say another word about him, though.”

“Not my story to tell,” Bobby grumbled.

Sam looked to Dean. “I think we should tell them.”

Dean nodded in agreement – with Crowley knowing about Harry, it seemed pointless to try to keep him a secret.

“Tell us what?” Jo asked, entering the room. 

“Harry isn’t our intern.”

“Well, no shit.  What is he then?” Ellen asked. 

Dean hesitated, so Sam answered.  “He’s our brother.”

“I’m sorry, what?  Did you just say ‘brother’?” Jo asked, completely taken off guard. 

Ellen nodded.  “I thought he looked an awful lot like John.  But he is also just too short to be a Winchester.”

“His eyes…” Jo started.

“What about his eyes?”

“They are almost the exact same color as yours, Dean.”

Sam snorted.  “You should see him when he has on his Winchester disguise.  He looks less like Dad and way more like a short version of Dean.”

“His Winchester disguise?” Bobby asked, confused.

“Yeah – he thinks it’s some kind of wish-magic that makes him look as he would have, genetically, if it weren’t for the adoption ritual that the Potters used,” Sam explained.

“Wait, wait – you’re going to have to go back a couple of steps,” Ellen insisted. 

So, they did.  The whole story was too long and complicated to go into for the moment, and they certainly didn’t want to give away too much, so they went with the Cliff notes version. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ellen said at the end.  “Just what this world needed, another Winchester.  With superpowers.”

“Yeah, we’re not sure if it’s our big break or our downfall just yet,” Dean replied. 

Suddenly, Cas popped into the room.  He had a huge grin on his face.

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed.  “It’s good to see you, man.  Did you get your angel wings up and flapping again?”

The angel was still smiling, which was quite strange.  “No.  But Harry gave me something to transport me here and it was like flying – but better!”

“Glad to hear you enjoyed it, Uncle Cas,” Harry said, appearing behind the angel.  “You should have seen Sam and Dean after they took one to my flat.”

“Harry,” Ellen greeted the wizard warmly, as she quickly crossed the room to pull the man into a hug.  “I owe you my daughter’s life.  And, in extension, mine as well.”

Harry awkwardly returned the hug – he was unused to this American kind of affection.  “I didn’t do much,” he responded, blushing slightly, “the Muggle doctors are the ones who actually saved her.”

Ellen hit him upside the head and pointed her finger at him.  “When I say you saved my daughter, you saved her.  Let’s try at that again.  Thank you, Harry, for saving Jo’s life.”  She looked at him expectantly.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he muttered back.

“Better,” she smiled.  Harry couldn’t help but think that this woman would get along spectacularly with Molly.

“Alright, now that you’ve taught Harry how to take a compliment, we need to get to Pestilence.  Harry, Cas, Sam, let’s get this show on the road,” Dean said, impatient to get things moving.  Plus, he planned on grilling Harry about the Master of Death stuff in the car. 

“You know, it’d be a lot faster if I just apparated us all there,” Harry said. 

Dean frowned.  “No, thank you, I’ll take the Impala.  It has all of our weapons in it.”

“I could probably take those with us too.  I would just have to shrink it and put it in my…”

The look on Dean’s face was enough to make Harry stop the suggestion.  Dean came right up to his middle brother’s face and said, very seriously, “No magic on the Impala.  For that matter, no magic in the Impala.  No magic NEAR the Impala.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender, “Fine, but it would be faster.  How about Cas and I stay here with Bobby and company so they can bring us up to speed.  We’ll just apparate over in a couple of hours when you arrive.”

“Fine – but don’t think that you’re off the hook,” Dean agreed, for the sake of just getting out of there already. 

“Off the hook for what?” Harry asked, clueless, as always.

“Some explanations,” Dean said, just before strolling out the door, Sam following closely behind.   

Harry turned to Bobby. “You have any clue what he’s on about?”

“Yes,” Bobby replied simply.  

“You want to fill me in?”

Bobby glanced at Ellen and Jo – unsure that Harry would want to have this particular conversation in front of the two women.

“Hey Jo, I think it’s our turn to go on a supply run,” Ellen said.  Jo nodded and grabbed her crutches.  There might have been a time where she would have argued with her mother about this, but now didn’t seem like a time to take a stand.  She could just try and get the information out of Dean later.  The two women left. 

“It was Crowley,” Bobby started.

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “What about Crowley?  I shouldn’t’ve listened to Dean and killed him on the spot.”

Bobby’s eyes widened.  “You could do that?”

Harry nodded. 

“Well, apparently Crowley is afraid of you, probably rightfully so.  Something about being the Master of Death.”

The wizard froze.  Bobby noticed.  “Are you?”

“No.”  Bobby didn’t look like he believed him.  Cas looked at him as if he had never seen him before.  “I might have been, once, but I gave it up.”

“That is not something you give up,” Cas said.  “I thought that it was just a rumor.  There hasn’t been one in so long…”

“It’s something I gave up,” Harry said sharply.  

“What does it mean?” Bobby asked. 

“Nothing.  Crowley shouldn’t talk about what he doesn’t understand.  Next time, I’m not asking, I’ll just kill him.”  Harry could feel the panic building in him.  He had had nightmares about this – becoming power-mad, turning dark, too tempted by the powers of the Hallows, as Dumbledore had been.   The room began to spin a bit.  He had to get out of there.  Without really thinking, he apparated away.

III

Harry ended up in a park somewhere in Sioux Falls.  He wasn’t quite sure where, but he just knew that he had to get out of that house.  He walked around for a while, just trying to clear his mind before reaching for his mirror.

“Ginny Weasley,” he said.   

“Harry,” she said, appearing on the other side.

“Are you in the middle of practice?”  he asked, noticing that she looked as though she had just run a marathon. 

“No, just finished, was about to hit the showers, but it can wait.  Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

She gave him a look.

“Alright, I’m less than fine.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”  From the background, Harry could tell that she was waving off her teammates and moving to a more private area. 

Harry told her.  More than anyone, Ginny knew how Harry was frightened of himself and what he could do to others.  It was a large part of the reason that they weren’t married.  She and Harry had discussed marriage many times and neither had any doubt that they would marry, eventually.  They’d nearly eloped half a dozen times but Ginny could tell that Harry just wasn’t ready yet.  And she wasn’t in a hurry.  She didn’t doubt that Harry loved her, and that was more than enough for her.  It was driving her mother crazy though. 

“What should I do?” Harry asked, after explaining the whole Crowley and Master of Death situation.  

“I think you need to be honest.”

Harry looked her in the eyes, “What?”

“You need to be honest, Harry.  Look, I fought it long enough.  I thought that the love of your friends and family here in the UK was all you needed.  I thought that you could be happy with just us … don’t give me that look, I know you love us, but you need more.  I can’t imagine what you’re going through, not really, after growing up so close to my brothers, but you need yours.  I haven’t seen you this … alive, in years.  Luna tried to tell me, but I didn’t want to believe her.  This is good for you.  But you can’t have one foot in and one foot out.  You need to tell Sam and Dean everything.  You need to trust them.  It’s the only way that they will fully trust you.” 

“But what if …”

“Harry.  You can’t worry about the what-ifs.  They will only hold you back.  Now, get back to Bobby’s and go help your brothers.  They don’t know how lucky they are to have Harry Potter on their side just yet but they will …”

“Sir,” a woman’s voice interrupted.  Harry looked up.  “Sir, are you alright?”

“I’ve gotta go Gin,” he whispered quickly, “Muggle incoming.”

“Understood, love you,”

“Love you too,” Harry responded before ending the conversation. 

A woman in a police uniform had approached him from the side.  She looked vaguely familiar to him.  “Sir, I’ve gotten reports that a man just appeared out of thin air and was in distress talking to himself on this bench.  Are you alright?” 

“Officer Mills?” He asked, finally recognizing her.  Also mentally cursing himself for not being more careful about where he was apparating. 

“It’s Sheriff Mills,” she replied, frowning slightly.  “Do I know you?”

“Oh, you probably don’t remember, we met when I was a child – about fourteen years ago.  You were coming to my rescue then, too.  I’m Henry.  Henry Winchester.” Each time that he said his birth name it felt more and more right. 

That stopped her in her tracks.  She was already suspicious that this was one of those situations.  “Winchester.”

“Yes.”

“As in Sam and Dean?”

“Yeah, they’re my brothers.”

She pulled out her gun.  “Sam and Dean don’t have a brother.  And they’re American.  What are you?”

“Really, I am their brother.  We’ve been…estranged…for some years.  I only recently returned Stateside.”

She reluctantly put her gun down.  “What are you doing in this park?”

“I just needed some air.”

“Are you staying with Bobby Singer?”

Harry was surprised that she knew that.  Did she remember something?  “Yeah.”

“Why don’t I follow you back to his place to make sure that you get back safely.”

Ah, Harry understood, she still didn’t trust him.  Not shocking in the least if she was part of the hunter community.  Or at very least, aware of it. 

“Er – I didn’t drive here.” 

“You walked?”  Jody’s officers had told her that it was reported that this man had appeared from nowhere.  She very much doubted that he had walked her all the way from Bobby’s and was trying to see if he’d admit to teleporting.

Harry hesitated.  He didn’t know how far he was from Bobby’s at this moment.  Which made answering that question tricky.  Judging by her tone of voice, Harry decided that he must be some distance away. 

“No, Sam and Dean dropped me off on their way out of town.”

She gave him a look.  She knew he was lying.  

“Am I under arrest?” he asked, growing impatient. 

“No.  Not yet at least.  But you won’t mind if I check in with Bobby Singer?”  She figured that contacting Bobby would at least let someone know that something supernatural had happened to her.  

“Please, be my guest.”

Not turning her back to him, she pulled out her cell phone.  He heard Bobby’s rough voice on the other end of the phone. 

“Yeah, Bobby, it’s Jody Mills … Sheriff Mills … yes.  I have a man here who is claiming to be Sam and Dean’s brother and I just wanted to … oh … yeah, he said his name was Henry … we’re at Fall’s Park …” Harry didn’t know what Bobby was saying, but he sounded pissed.  “I can bring him by your place…yeah, we’re on our way.”  She hung up the call.  If this man were dangerous, Bobby would not have asked her to bring him to his house.

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

“Bobby wants you back at his place.  I told him I’d give you a ride.”  Just like when he was a teenager, Harry could see that this wasn’t a suggestion.  He shrugged, it was probably about time that he got back so that he and Cas could help Sam and Dean.  The car would be slower than apparating, but it would give him a little more time before having to deal with Bobby and Cas. 

When they got into her patrol car, the questioning started almost immediately.  “Are you a hunter like Sam and Dean?”

“You know about hunters?”

“I do.  Are you one?” she asked again, not letting the subject go. 

“Technically speaking, no, although it is the family business so I’ve been helping them out recently.  I’m MI-5.”  It wasn’t a lie – the Auror division was considered a branch of MI-5, although they maintained autonomy and didn’t answer to the Muggle government.

Jody couldn’t help but laugh at that, it made her believe this man was a Winchester after all.  “You expect me to believe that?  Sam and Dean tried the whole FBI thing on me.” 

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me one way or the other.  Although there is a certain level of irony that my brothers pretend to have the job that I have.  I’m on sabbatical at the moment, though.”

“Alright, Mr. British FBI, how do you deal with all this monster nonsense and hunters in England?” 

“Oh.  We don’t have them.  Monsters, that is.  Outlawed, ages ago.” 

Jody was dumbfounded.  “How is that even possible?” 

Harry put on his best serious face.  “We’re just that good.”

The rest of the ride was done in silence – not that it was a long trip.  When they arrived back at the house, Bobby rolled out in his wheelchair. 

“Where the hell have you been?  Sam and Dean are at the nursing home – and they’re not going to wait for your sorry mopey ass to get there before taking on a god-damned Horseman of the Apocalypse.” 

Harry pushed down his desire to go full teenager and roll his eyes.  Being brought home by the police and getting a lecture was just a little too on point.  He quickly brushed past Bobby to where Cas was standing in the living room, not even acknowledging the older man. 

He placed his hand on Cas’ shoulder and ignored him as the angel started to say, “wait.”

This proved to be a mistake. 

He crashed-landed outside the nursing home, falling flat on his face and Cas directly on top of him. 

“Ouch,” he said, “You’re fucking heavy!”

Cas got to his feet fairly quickly and looked at Harry with concern.  “You should not have been able to do that.”

He held out his arm to help the wizard to his feet.  As Harry stood, he felt as if all of his muscles and joints were on fire.  It was similar to when he had worked out too hard – but about a hundred times worse.  He was also dizzy and nauseous.  Within a couple of seconds of standing, he fell back to the ground, passed out.

III

King’s Cross.  He was once again at King’s Cross – the empty King’s Cross that he arrived after Voldemort had shot him with the killing curse.  Harry looked down and sighed with relief, at least he was wearing clothes this time. 

“Am I dead?” He wondered to himself. 

“I should think not,” a British voice came from behind Harry.  He turned.  It was not Dumbledore, but a man he had never seen before.  Tall and lanky with dark hair and a cane.  “Just close enough that you and I could have a … conversation.  Apparating with an angel, I have to say, that is new,” the man chuckled.  “That would kill almost any other wizard, but not you, my friend.” 

“Do I know you?”

“Of course, young Harry.  We’ve met many times.  You don’t remember past that first time, of course, but I’ve had the pleasure of your company on many occasions.” 

Harry just stared. 

“Although, I do have to say this is the first time that I’ve seen you looking so … yourself.  You’re finally beginning to accept your title.”

“I am not!”

Death chuckled again.  Which was unnerving.  “We shall see.  I have much to tell you and teach you, my friend, but that will have to wait for another time, I’m afraid.  Your magic is so strong that you are already beginning to heal.  This means I just have one question for you.  Would you like to “move on,” or return to the mortal world?”

“I get a choice?”

“Yes, it is your right, but you won’t remember.  Not yet, at least.  Well?” 

“What’d you mean?  You have to tell me where you are, so that Sam, Dean and I can …”

And he was gone, his choice evident.  “See you soon, dear boy,” Death said to nobody.

III

“You just left him in the car?” Dean asked Cas as they left the nursing home with Pestilence’s ring.  Sam wasn’t sure if Dean was more concerned about Baby or Harry. 

“Yes, he fainted.  Even though I am quite powerless at the moment, I am still an angel and by carrying me through magic from one location to another, he took on my full metaphysical weight.  Which is much more than the 170 pounds that I appear to be.”

The three men approached the car, and sure enough, Harry was slumped in a sitting up position in the backseat.  Dean crossed over to that side of the car and opened the door.  He lightly slapped his brother’s face.  “Hey, hey, wake up,” he said.  It seemed to have no effect. 

“I believe that he is in a sort of coma,” Cas said.

“A coma?” Sam asked, concerned.

“Yes.  He has torn many of his muscles and has several pinched nerves.  His magic is currently repairing the damage – but he will stay asleep until his body can function again.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other with concern.  “Why didn’t you stop him?” Dean asked.  Missing in action seemed to be a theme with his middle brother, which was beginning to piss him off.  But at the same time, he didn’t like seeing the man hurt. 

Cas glared.  “I tried to, but much like the two of you, he didn’t listen to me.”

Dean sighed.  “Well, let’s get back on the road then.  Three horsemen down, one to go.”

When Harry came to, he was in the back seat of the Impala.  Castiel was seated beside him – staring.

“He’s awake,” the angel said. 

Dean glanced back and Sam full-on turned. 

“Dude, you were passed out.  Are you alright?” Sam asked.

“Uh …” Harry took a second to try and see if he was.  He could still feel some pain, but nothing like before.  He also had a feeling like he was forgetting something important.  “Yeah, I think so.  How long was I out?”

“Like two and a half hours, we’re getting pretty close to back to Bobby’s now.”

That made Harry snap awake a bit.  “But Pestilence!”

“Yeah, we got his ring, no thanks to you,” Dean said, sounding annoyed.   

Harry sat up a little and grunted in pain.  “I don’t know what happened.  It was like I bench pressed about a thousand pounds.”

“That is because you should not have been able to move me magically like that at all.  I may be weak at the moment, but I’m still an Angel of the Lord.  I may appear to be an ordinary man, but I am not.  It was extremely unwise of you to attempt what you did.  If you weren’t the possessor of Heaven’s Favors, you would have died.” 

“Heaven’s Favors?”

“You call them Deathly Hallows, but we have a different name for them.”

Harry groaned.  “Not this again.”

“Yeah, that again,” Dean said from the front seat.  “You owe us an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Harry replied sharply.  He didn’t like Dean’s tone. 

“Maybe not, but if you want to keep tagging along with us, you will tell us what all this Master of Death business is all about.  If it’s enough to make demons fear you, and gods reaching out to you, it seems worth a mention.  What if it could help?”

“And what if it can’t?” Harry shot back.  “Despite what you’ve heard, I am not the Master of Death.  I may have been, once, but I am not any longer.  And, even if I were, I hardly think that the title would make me more powerful than an archangel.”

“But what is it?” Sam asked. 

Harry took a deep breath.  “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” his brothers said together.  

“Fine,” Harry responded, but he wasn’t happy about it, “I’ll tell you what I know.”  He proceeded to start the Tale of Three Brothers, starting at the river that the brothers had used magic to cheat Death to get across.

“Wait, are you telling us a fairytale?” Dean asked, incredulous. 

“Yes, this is what you asked for.”  The wizard kept going, explaining Death’s cunning plan.  How the eldest, combative brother had asked for a weapon to best anyone who came across him.  The second, who thought that he wanted to prove continuously that he had outsmarted Death and further humiliated the being by bringing back others that Death had claimed.  And lastly, the youngest, who had asked only for an object to stop Death from following him from that place.  He quickly moved on to the fates of each of the brothers, to stop Sam and Dean from getting too excited.  A slit throat for the eldest, madness and suicide for the second, and long life and leaving life as a friend and equal to Death.

“And, at the end of it all, the wizard that unites the three is the Master of Death, but what that exactly means has never been clear to me.  I may have unified them, but they didn’t stay that way.  I only have the cloak now.”

“But you used all three of them?” Cas asked.  Harry nodded, reluctantly.  All attention turned to the angel.

“You know about this Cas?” Sam asked, surprised. 

“Yes.  Angels are aware of the existence of these Deathly Hallows.  That’s not what we call them though.”

“What do you call them?”

“Heaven’s Favors.”

Dean snorted, “How original.  What do they do?”

“Well, they are much older than the wizard’s legend of them would seem.  These Favors – they were a… compromise between my Father and Death.” 

“Why did God have to compromise with Death?” Dean asked.

“It is said that Death was not pleased with this new creation, which was not, strictly speaking, my Father’s, although he claims wizards as his own.  Especially because, unlike angels, they had the desire to procreate.  As their numbers grew, their old weren’t dying in the same way as other humans.  Some of the earliest wizards lived hundreds of years. 

“The souls of those that died automatically went to Heaven, Father did not want any demonized wizard souls – which created an imbalance in the universe.  There was some argument as to how to correct this.  I don’t know all the details of what occurred, but the carnage was great for both wizards and angels.  In the end, an agreement was reached.  Wizards were given the responsibility of monitoring their own and given the tools to send the worst of their numbers somewhere other than Heaven.  And they would live longer than their ordinary human counterparts but could die of natural causes.  There was, however, one exception.”

“The Hallows,” Harry breathed. 

“Yes, the Hallows.  If there was ever to be a wizard that showed himself worthy, Death would grant him three objects of my Father’s creation.  With all three, that wizard would cease to be a wizard at all – but rather, the Angel of Death.” 

“I’m sorry what?  Harry’s an angel?” Dean asked, getting alarmed.  Harry himself looked a little ill. 

“He is not an angel,” Cas stated, “but he could be.” 

“What the hell does that mean?”  Sam asked. 

“I don’t know.  I know that possessing the objects is just the first step – and it makes the wizard Master of Death.  There is more to the journey than that.  In the history of wizards, only a couple have held the title.  None have ascended to the next level.”

“What is the Angel of Death?” The question frightened him, but Harry felt that he had to ask. 

“The Angel of Death is an entity sent out by God to kill the enemies of man.  It was the original purpose of the fallen garrison.  In our legends, this angel would bring the end of Lucifer’s creations.”

“That is utter bollocks,” Harry said. 

“I assure you that testicles have nothing to do with this,” Cas responded. 

Everyone groaned.

“I mean it – complete and utter shit is what that is.  I am not the Master of Death.  I’m certainly no angel – especially not this so-called Angel of Death.”

“But what if…” Dean started.

“No,” Harry cut him off.  “No.”  The air in the Impala somehow got thicker and felt … dangerous.  The Impala stalled for a moment. 

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Dean said, not wanting Baby to break down.  “We’ll drop it.”

“See that you do.”

The rest of the car ride was silent. 

III

By the time they were back at Bobby’s, Harry felt mostly recovered.  At least enough that he could walk on his own.  But the lesson was learned.  Side-along apparition with an angel was a very bad idea. 

After explaining what happened with Pestilence to Bobby, the older man said, “Well it’s nice to actually score a home run for once, ain’t it?”  Looking around at the less than pleased faces he asked, “What?”

“Last thing Pestilence said, ‘It’s too late,’” Sam explained.

“He get specific?”

“No.”

“We’re just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere.  So please tell us you have actual good news,” Dean said.

“Chicago’s about to be wiped off the map.  Storm of the millennium.  Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters.  Three million people are gonna die.”

“Huh.”

“I don’t understand your definition of good news,” Castiel deadpanned.

“Well…Death, the horseman – he’s gonna be there.  And if we can stop him before he kick-starts this storm, we get his back – ”

“Yeah, you make it sound so easy,” Dean scoffed, but he was giving Harry the side-eye. 

“Hell, I’m just trying to put a spin on it,” Bobby retorted.

“Well…Bobby, how’d you put all this together, anyway?”

“I had, you know, help.”  No one liked the sound of that. 

“From Ellen and Jo?” Dean asked.

Out of thin air, Crowley appeared in the kitchen.  “Don’t be so modest.  I barely helped at all.  Hello, boys.  Please, et cetera.  Go ahead.  Tell them.  There’s no shame in it.”

Harry had his wand out in a second and aimed it straight at the demon.  He was ready to start advancing on him, fury rolling off him, but Dean put an arm on his shoulder. 

“Bobby?  Tell us what?” Sam questioned. 

“World’s gonna end.  Seems stupid to get all precious over one little…soul.”

“You sold your soul?” Dean asked incredulously. 

“Oh, more like pawned it.  I fully intend to give it back,” Crowley said, pouring himself some whiskey.  His face broke into a smile.  “This is goblin-made fire-whiskey.  I haven’t had this in over a century. Damn little wankers won’t sell it to me or anyone associated with me.”

Harry summoned the whiskey away from the demon.  He was already on thin ice with the goblins.  Plus, he really hated Crowley.

“Hey!” he protested. 

The wizard glared, and Crowley recoiled a little, not protesting any further. 

“You want me to kill him now?” Harry asked.  “Hermione gave me a primer.  I know all the spells now – some are supposed to be downright torturous.  I’ve been dying to test them out.”  He looked at Crowley menacingly.  If looks could kill, Crowley would have been ashes the second he stepped foot in the house. 

“No,” Dean said to Harry.  “Give it back!” he demanded of the demon.

“I will,” Crowley said, avoiding looking at Harry.

“Now!”

“Did you kiss him?” Sam asked as if he couldn’t help himself. 

“No!” Bobby protested.  Crowley held out his phone that had a picture of him and Bobby kissing.  “Why’d you take a picture?”

“Why do you have to use tongue?”

“You know what?  I’m sick of this.  Give him his soul back now.  Or I’ll let Harry do his worst.”

“I’m sorry.  I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean demanded.

“I won’t, all right?  It’s insurance. You kill demons.  Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it.  Dudley-Do-Right could end me in a second and seems more than willing to do it.  But you won’t kill me…as long as I have that soul in the deposit box.”

“You son of a bitch,” Bobby said, finally realizing why Crowley had wanted the deal in the first place.

“I’ll return it.  After all, this is over, and I can walk safely away.  Do we all understand each other?” He said that last part looking directly at Harry.

Harry gave the slightest of nods.  As soon as he could, he excused himself from everyone and apparated to a small house just a mile or so away from Bobby’s.  The less time he spent with Crowley the less likely he’d AK him on principle alone.

Once he had realized how often his brothers were in Sioux Falls, he thought it would be best to set up a home base there.  Although it had been several weeks since the home had been purchased, the warding had just recently been completed.  The team had some special instruction from Luna – and, in theory, should keep both angels and demons away. 

“Kayla Bluebonnet,” he spoke into his mirror once he arrived. 

“Mr. Potter,” she replied.  “How can I be of service?”

“I have a new research topic for your team,” he said. 

“Another one?” She asked. 

“Yes.  If you need to hire more people, please feel free.  I will also ask you to liaise with Hermione’s team in the UK.  They have access to some materials that you do not.”

“Of course.  I think the current team can handle it.  What do you need them to look into?”

“I want to know more about demon deals.”

“Their deals with No-Majes?  Because most demons steer clear of wizards and witches.”

“Yes, with Muggles.”

“Alright – anything more specific than that?”

“I want to know as much as possible about it.” He hesitated for a moment. “Including if there are any magical means for retrieving such a soul.”

“Alright sir, we’ll look into it.  But – you should know, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bluebonnet.” 

Next, he called Hermione.  “Hermione, I need your help.”

“Of course, Harry.” She looked past the mirror.  “Please excuse me, Minister, I need to take this.”

She got up and moved.  Harry felt a little guilty pulling her out of such a high-level meeting.  “Sorry, Hermione.  I’ll be quick.  Could you have the team at Kendricks look into demon deals for me?”

“Just what have you gotten yourself into, Harry James?” she hissed. 

“Oh, not me.  Are you kidding?  I know better than to mess with souls or soul magic.  It’s for … a Muggle friend.”

“Not one of your brothers?” she pressed.

“No, not them.”

“Alright, I’ll let the team know.  I’ve been meaning to call and update you anyway.  We got Justin in the job, and he’s already uncovered a weapon from the Men of Letters that can exorcise foreign entities from hosts.  They use it for demon possessions.  You’ll have to ask him about it – he hasn’t had the chance to explain the mechanics of it to me yet.  But…there’s been a complication.”

Harry was thrilled that Justin had found something already.  But he was also wary – complication sounded like Hermione-speak for huge problem.  “What complication?”

Hermione hesitated.  “There was someone else who was interested, and qualified.  Since this is a new subsect of the department, he was hired to help.”

“Who?”

“I don’t want you to get upset.  Promise me, Harry?”

Harry sighed, not liking where this was going.  “Who, Hermione?”

“Malfoy.”

“Malfoy,” Harry said flatly.  “Draco Malfoy?”

Hermione nodded.

“Draco Bloody Malfoy?” He asked again, heating up. 

“Yes, and he’s qualified. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“Fuck.  Well, that makes things more difficult.  Tell Justin to keep a close eye on him.”

“I will.  And Harry?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what you’re up against, it sounds very serious, but please, for us, be careful.  And call if you need help.”

Harry hung up.  He didn’t want to make any false promises to his best friend.  And having Malfoy involved – well that was a blow.  At least the tosser owed him a life-debt.  That should be enough to keep him in line.  He didn’t have time to think about it though, he needed to get back to his brothers.  So, with a soft curse to himself, he popped back over to Bobby’s. 

Everyone was outside in the yard.  To his great surprise, Bobby was standing. 

“Bobby!  You can walk!” he said as he approached the group.  Everyone jumped and Harry remembered that sneaking up on a group of hunters was probably not the best idea.

“Where’ve you been?” Dean demanded.

“Loo,” Harry replied. 

“We’re about to head out – there is a pharmaceutical company about to release a zombie virus on the country and Crowley and I are going after Death.”

“I’m sorry, a zombie virus?”

“Don’t worry about it.  You’re with me.  Let’s go, it’s a long drive.”

“Alright.”  He knew better than to suggest apparition, even though it would be far quicker.  “Wait for a second,” Harry said as he turned back to Sam, Bobby, and Castiel.  “I had these made for you,” he said as he handed each man (and one angel) large antique-looking keys.  

“What are they?” Sam asked.

“Emergency portkeys.  If you’re in a boiling cauldron, take hold of it and say, ‘Portus,’ and you’ll be brought to my safe house, about a mile up the road from here.  Or in dear ol’ Uncle Castiel’s case – right outside the house.  Those will only work for the three of you.  I’m breaking all sorts of laws giving those to you, so don’t try to take anyone else with you.  Any demons,” he turned to face Crowley, “that try to hang on or follow you will be incinerated the second they touch the wards.”

Crowley scowled.  “This is getting maudlin, can we go?” he asked.

Dean gave one last nod to Sam and the three of them headed to the Impala.  On the way over there, Crowley said, “Shotgun.”

Harry gave a wry smile.  “Go ahead and try.”

Crowley approached the passenger side door, but the second he touched the handle, he yelped.  “What in hell?”

“Yeah, what the hell? I thought I made myself clear, no magic on the Impala.  What did you do to Baby?”

“Nothing you didn’t do – I just beefed up the runes you have drawn in the car.  No demons can enter it now.  So, I guess you’ll have to find your own ride to Chicago, Crowley.”  He smugly pushed the demon aside and got in the front seat. 

Dean thought for a moment and then nodded in agreement.  “See ya there,” he said as he got in the driver’s side. 

Crowley huffed indignantly, stomped his foot, and then disappeared. 

“This will make the car ride far more pleasant - don’t you think?” Harry asked.  Dean didn’t respond.  He put the key in the ignition and they were off.

III

“He wants to jump into Hell while he’s possessed by Lucifer?”

Dean had just finished telling Harry about Sam’s grand plan.

“Yeah.  But he’ll do it over my dead body.”

Harry was silent.

“What, you think it’s a good idea?”

“No.  It’s a terrible plan, but do you have a better one?  Jumping into Hell – would he be dead?”

Dean looked at Harry like he was crazy.  “He’ll be in Hell.”

“Yeah, but Hell is a physical place, is it not?  Lucifer was in a cage, but that cage was just located in Hell, right?  He wasn’t dead all this time, just locked up?”

“I guess, but that doesn’t mean that…”

“I know, still not the best plan,” Harry interrupted, “but if that’s all we got, maybe we can find a loophole in advance.  You know, an exit strategy.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dean conceded, grudgingly.  He had been so focused on stopping Sam that he hadn’t thought about how they could use the plan and still win.  There were several minutes of silence.  “You know we have to talk about this whole Master of Death thing.”

Harry sighed, resigned, “I know.  I told you what I know.  I don’t see how it’s going to help in this particular situation.”

“Angel of Death – capable of killing the enemies of man?  You think Lucifer might fall in that category?” 

“Possibly, but I have no idea how I would achieve ‘the next level,’ I don’t even accept that I’m Master of Death.  It didn’t seem like Cas has a wealth of knowledge on the topic.  And if no wizard has ever gotten there, I have no reason to believe that I would be able to.  Especially on our schedule.”

“Aren’t you the most powerful wizard ever?”

Harry scoffed.  “I highly doubt that.  I am powerful, sure, more powerful than some.  But that’s only by wizarding standards.  In your world – with gods and archangels, I’m not sure that I’m any more useful than you or Sam with a gun.”

Dean glanced over at him.  “I don’t know where your humble comes from – certainly not from the Winchester side of the family.  Your friends told us that if any other wizard attempted what you did with the hellhounds that they would be dead.  Cas also seemed amazed that you managed to teleport …”

“Apparate,” Harry corrected, almost automatically.

“Whatever.  That you managed to carry him.  I think it’s time that you accept that you’re like the rest of the family … awesome.”

Harry shrugged and didn’t answer.

Dean wasn’t one to carry on about feelings.  But he couldn’t help but think how proud John would be of Harry and how devastated he would be that his son was taken from him twice.  Harry would be everything that John wanted from his sons.  He would never admit it, but it honestly made him feel inadequate, which wasn’t fair.  How was it out of the three he was the most useless?  

Of course, the eldest Winchester wasn’t going to say any of that out loud.  “So, what’s our plan here?  As Master of Death can you just come in and tell him to hand over the ring?”

“I’ve no idea.  I never envisioned Death as an actual entity.  None of the stories seems to indicate that being Master of Death means anything beyond a long life.”

“That’s not what Cas says.”

“Yeah, well that’s all news to me.  I’ve told you what I know.  Maybe this meeting with Death will clarify some things for us.”

Dean could tell that was all he was going to get out of Harry for the moment, so he pulled out his Black Sabbath cassette tape and turned the volume up loud. 

III

Crowley knocked on the window of the Impala, wincing each time he touched it.  Dean was already highly annoyed with the demon.

“What now, Crowley?” He growled. 

“I found him.  Death – he’s in there.”

“You sure this time?”

“Yeah.  I’m sure.”

“You coming or …” Crowley disappeared. 

“You’re seriously going to have to let me kill that son-of-a-bitch someday soon,” Harry said. 

“Aw, your first son-of-a-bitch. You’re a Winchester now.  I suppose there is no way to talk you out of joining me in there?”

“No chance at all.  But I will wear my invisibility cloak.  Its sole purpose is to hide me from Death, so I can just watch silently unless you need me.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

III

Talking to Death was unnerving, to say the least.  But it had been far more productive than Dean had been anticipating. 

“Chicago?  I suppose it can stay.  I like the pizza.  There are conditions,” Death said, holding back on giving the ring to Dean.

“Okay.  Like what?”

“For one, you need to call your brother in here.”

Dean held a steady face, silently cursing Harry for saying that the cloak would hide him from Death.  “Sam?  He’s several states over.”

Death leveled Dean with a look.  “Do not insult my intelligence.  From what I know of him, Harry Potter would not have allowed you to walk in here by yourself.  I can’t feel him, of course, he is under my cloak.  Please, invite him to join us at the table.”

Dean stared ahead, steely for a second, before deciding and nodding his head in signal to his younger brother. 

Harry took off the cloak.

“There you are, Harry.  Have a seat.  It is a pleasure to see you again, old friend.”  Both Dean and Harry were shocked by Death’s warm tone.  Something about it seemed vaguely familiar to the wizard.

Harry cautiously approached the table, where Dean looked quite freaked out, and if he was reading it right, also a little pissed off.

As he sat, he said, “I don’t recall meeting you before.”

Death laughed.  “You wouldn’t, would you?  Do not pity the dead, Harry.  Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.”

Harry recoiled.  “No.”

“Yes.”

“But … Dumbledore …”

“Oh, it was Dumbledore – but it was also me.  For I am the Dead and the Dead are me.  And you are my Master, or if you rather, my friend.  The whole ‘Master,’ title was simply an in-joke between Ignotus and myself that has gotten somewhat out of hand.  You had all the power to stop me and used none of it.  You welcomed me and that means, in turn, you are the worthy possessor of the Hallows.  As I told you that night.  You’ve also died many times since then and each time you were ready to accept it, proving yourself worthy over and over again.  And I have something for you.  No conditions though, as these are rightfully yours,” he said as he pulled out the Elder Wand seemingly from thin air and the resurrection stone.

Harry shook his head, stood, and backed away from the table slightly.  “No.  I left the wand in what should have been its final resting place.  I dropped the stone in the woods.  I only kept what my father passed down to me.  I don’t want to be Master of Death.”

“And that, my dear boy, is why you are,” Death said.  “And I would have been happy to allow you your plan, with your journey ending with Horcruxes, not Hallows.  But you made a choice.  The same choice, many times.  Gabriel tried to talk you out of it.  But you chose your brothers, and, as such, your life is transformed.  Hallows, not Horcruxes.  Supernatural instead of magical.”

Harry was still uncertain.  He supposed this was what Gabriel was trying to prevent. 

“I see you’re not convinced, so I will give you a choice one last time.  Dean,” he turned to the elder Winchester.  “I told you there are conditions to my giving you this ring.  The first is that Harry takes these Hallows and accepts his role as Master of Death.”

“That’s not a choice at all!” Harry protested. 

“It is.  Just because you don’t like it doesn’t change the fact.  You could walk away right now, with just your cloak.  Do not involve yourself in this apocalypse, leave your brothers to handle Lucifer and Michael themselves.  Return to the UK and these hallows will return to where you left them.  Or take them, and accept your new fate.”

Dean closed his eyes.  He didn’t want this for his brother – he really didn’t, but this was their only chance.  The only way that they could save the world, the only way to save Sam, was the ring.  He gave Harry a pleading look.  He couldn’t read the expression on his brother’s face, but he could tell this was painful. 

Harry sighed.  “Fine.  I chose my brothers.”  He didn’t move though. 

Death looked at him impatiently.  “Take the Hallows then.”

Harry shook his head.

“Harry.”

The wizard took a deep breath and approached the table.  He took the stone first and pocketed it.  Next, he put his hand over the wand – hesitating for a second, before closing his eyes and taking the wand.  The other occupants of the room could feel the wave of magical power that surrounded him. 

“Very good.  Now, Dean.  You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell.”

“Of course, that’s the plan,” Dean replied.

“No.  No plan.  Not yet.  Your brother – Sam, not Harry.  He’s the one that can stop Lucifer.  The only one.”

“What, you think – ”

“I know.  So, I need a promise.  You’re going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed. 

Death turned his attention back to the wizard.  “You already got to make your choice.  Now Dean has to make his.  Well, Dean, do I have your word?”

“Ok, yeah.  Yes,” Dean responded.

“That had better be ‘yes,’ Dean.  You know you can’t cheat Death.  Now, would you like the instruction manual?” he asked as he slipped the ring off of his finger.

III

The two elder Winchester brothers were once again in the Impala.  Harry was beginning to appreciate the car, even though it did make everything take much longer. 

“So, this Sam-in-the-hole plan…”

“Yeah, I lied to Death.  Sue me.”

“But what if it wasn’t a lie?”

Dean turned his head angrily towards Harry.  “I already told you, I think it’s a terrible idea and I’m not going to let Sam do it.”

“Hey – I’m not saying that you should.  Although I do think that Sam is more than capable of making his own decisions.  But what if Sam, and by consequence, Lucifer, thought that was the plan.” 

“What are you saying?” Dean was very confused. 

“Look, if Sam says yes to Lucifer, Lucifer knows everything Sam knows right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it may take some doing, but what if we have an alternative plan?  One that Sam – one that no one but the two of us knows?”

Dean was wary.  “What did you have in mind?”

“Well …”  Harry explained everything he was thinking.  At the end of the explanation, Dean smiled a little. 

“That might just work.”

III

While Dean was putting petrol in the Impala, Harry took the opportunity to step aside for a moment.  He fingered the mirror – debating on what to do.  The safety of his family was of the utmost importance.  In this case, he was thinking of his family in England.  What he was about to embark on with his brothers, well, it was delicate.  And he knew exactly how Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would respond to this plan he had just laid out with Dean. 

He could almost hear their voices in his head.  Ron would insist on dropping everything in his own life and running to come and help, even if it meant putting his own life in danger.  Hermione, ever the thoughtful one, would argue with Harry and would throw herself into research, swearing that she could find a way to help.  And when the research revealed nothing, she would only be about two seconds behind her husband.  Ginny would be angry – and hurt that Harry would ever consider putting himself in this sort of position again.  Ultimately, she would support him and would probably arrive at least an hour ahead of Ron and Hermione, just so that she could hex him before joining in.  None of it was acceptable to The-Man-Who-Conquered, who felt his friends had already given up too much for him. 

“Ronald Weasley,” he spoke into the mirror.  With, as Hermione had once said, “the emotional range of a teaspoon,” he was the least likely of the three to ask pesky follow-up questions or think too deeply about what Harry was about to say.

“Harry, one sec!” the redhead called into the mirror. 

“Sure,” Harry responded, hearing the hustle and bustle of the store in the background.  Ron finished a transaction with a customer, before calling for someone else to take the till as he ran to the back of the store. 

“What’s up, mate?” he asked. 

“Hadn’t checked in a bit is all,” Harry said.  “How’s Hermione?  The kids?”

Ron was puzzled.  And suspicious off the bat.  “They’re great.  Though Rosie has been asking after you.  You’ve never stayed away so long before.”

Harry felt guilty, and Ron could see that.  “I’m sorry…”

“No need to apologize,” Ron hurried, “I understand, and so will she someday.  How are things?” 

“They’re … well, they’re good, with my brothers at least.”

Ron put a fake smile on.  Harry could tell.  “Glad to hear it.  Have any fun hunting stories?  You know I can’t wait to hear about the creatures you’re helping them with.  I’ve been catching Hermione up on some of the books Mum read us as children about them.  Any wendigos?”

Harry laughed a little.  “Nothing that exciting.  Look, Ron…”

“You’re about to say something stupid aren’t you?” his best friend sighed. 

“No, no, not stupid.  Just … things are heating up here … nothing I can’t handle!” he finished quickly.  “But it’s become clear that my brothers … especially Sam, are very uncomfortable with the whole … wizard thing,” he lied.  “I think it would be best that I put away anything that they see as … unnatural for a bit.  Just a couple of weeks while we’re working on a case.  A month tops.”

“Should I be concerned?” Ron asked, already knowing the answer.  He didn’t like that Harry’s brothers were still being so unaccepting of his powers.  It didn’t bode well.

“No, nothing to concern yourself with.  But I know that if I don’t check-in, Hermione worries.  Ginny’s too busy getting ready for the World Cup to be thinking too hard about it.  I don’t know how, but I know the two of you have a way of tracking me.  I’m asking, please, don’t, just for a little bit.  Just until things are more settled.”

Ron nodded.  “I don’t like it.  But alright, we’ll back off, but you’ll be home in time to pick up Teddy from King’s Cross?”

“Should be,” Harry lied again.  “Give me until then?”

“Alright.  Hermione’s not going to like it.  But … Harry, take care of yourself.”

“Will do,” Harry said, leaving the conversation immediately after.  Any longer and he wasn’t sure he could keep the lies going.  He headed back to Dean and the car. 

“Jerky?” Dean asked, offering Harry some kind of stick.

“Is that food?” Harry asked. 

“It’s the best food!  Other than pie, of course.  Come on, try it!” 

Harry did, and it was the most disgusting thing he had ever tried.  His face made Dean laugh and the two of them spent the rest of their time driving discussing the merits of American cuisine, or the lack thereof.

Chapter Text

Love, Fate and Prophecy 

Part Three: Chapter Thirteen – Swan Song

Season 5 – Episode 22 (Swan Song)

“Ah!  Don’t do that man,” Sam exclaimed when Harry popped next to him at Bobby’s.  He had been asleep – but Harry had appeared right in front of his face, startling the large man. 

“Shh,” Harry admonished.

“Why?” Sam asked urgently. 

“Just…” Harry put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and apparated them both to his safe house. 

That shook any remaining sleepiness out of the younger Winchester.  He looked around wildly.  “Where are we?” he demanded. 

“Calm down.  We’re about a mile up the road from Bobby’s house.  I decided that if I was going to keep coming here, I should have someplace a little more local than New York.  Apparating that far can be exhausting.” 

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know.  Dean’s asleep.  I convinced him to stop off at a motel on the way back here.  Since he won’t let me drive the Impala, I didn’t think it was a good idea to get no sleep two nights in a row.  I wish you two wouldn’t insist on driving everywhere.  It’s so slow.” 

Sam crossed his arms, which effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he was still in his plaid pajamas bottoms.  “Look, man, you didn’t drag me out of bed in the middle of the night to complain about Dean’s driving.  What’s going on?  Dean said you got the ring.”

“We did.  He also told me about your little plan.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna lecture me too?” 

Harry shook his head.  “No, you gotta do what you gotta do.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time with us … that was almost American sounding.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Harry rebuked. 

“I won’t.  If you’re not here to stop me, then again, I ask, what’s going on?” 

“I’m not going to stop you.  But I feel like it is my responsibility, as your older brother, to give you other options.  I once promised that I would be there for you, no matter what path you chose.  I meant it then and I mean it now.  If you want – we could grab Dean and Bobby and leave the States altogether.  I have had my team do some research, and there are places in the UK where we could protect you.  Keep Lucifer out.” 

“Oh, really?  Where could I be protected from an archangel?” 

“Hogwarts,” Harry replied. 

That surprised Sam.  “Your old school?” 

“Yeah.  It has some pretty impressive wards.  I think Gabriel might have something to do with that – he mentioned something about working with one of the founders.  My friend told me that they should even keep out the Devil.  If he realized you were there at all.  A lot of the wards had to be rebuilt after the war, but Voldemort and his followers didn’t tear down some of the more ancient ones, because they simply didn’t need to.” 

“And once I’m there?  Then what?  I’m pretty sure that Lucifer and Michael will still find a way to fight each other.  Even without Dean and me.” 

“Gabriel did imply that they would leave the wizarding world alone.  You’d be safe.”

“And what about the rest of the world?” Sam practically yelled, disgusted by Harry’s suggestion.  “I let Lucifer out of his cage and you want me to just run away?  Save myself?” 

“If that’s what you wanted, I would support you.” 

“Is that what you would do?” Sam spat. 

Harry hesitated.  He wasn’t going to lie, not about this at least.  “I may not be the example to follow.”  Seeing Sam’s glare, he continued, “I’m not going to force this on you, it’s an option, a choice.  I’m giving you something I never had.  The chance to simply walk away from it all.”

“I tried walking away and looked where it landed us.  There is no leaving this life.  No, I’ve decided.  I’m going to say, ‘yes,’ and jump into the cage.  It’s the only way to right my wrong.”  He gave Harry a very defiant look. 

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Harry said.  “In that case, let’s talk about Hell, and the cage, and how we might be able to get you out, once you’re in.” 

“No.”

“No?”

“No.  Once I’m in, you gotta leave me there.  Lucifer cannot be let out again, he has to rot in that cage, and, if I have to do that with him, then that’s what I gotta do.” 

Harry sighed.  All of this was going the exact way that Dean said it would.  But that didn’t mean that he reveled in it.  “At least let me teach you some mind defenses?  It might not work for you, but Occlumency shouldn’t necessarily require magic.” 

“Occlumency?” 

“Yeah, it’s a technique that helps combat mind control.” 

“You can do that?”

“Yes.  Believe it or not, I’ve been possessed before, so I know something about warding it off.”

Sam looked skeptical.  But he wasn’t going to turn down any help, especially if it could help him control Lucifer.  “Ok.  Let’s try it.”

“Have a seat on the sofa,” Harry instructed.  He was practiced in teaching others Occlumency.  Of course, everyone else he had ever taught had been a wizard.  In theory, though, he didn’t see why a Muggle couldn’t apply the same techniques.  Especially since it wasn’t a wizard that Sam would be battling.  

Sam gave Harry a questioning look but did as Harry said.  He didn’t know if it was his somewhat militarized childhood or just his brother’s innate charisma, but when he gave an order, he almost automatically followed it. 

Harry thought for a moment, trying to remember the lecture that Hermione had given him years ago that talked about Muggle techniques for calming the mind.  “Have you ever practiced meditation?” he asked. 

Sam looked at him like he was crazy. “No.  And you better never mention it to Dean, he’d never let you hear the end of it.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “There is nothing wrong with meditation.  You’ll find it helpful – I use it to drown out that terrible music that Dean insists on playing in the car.”

If the moment weren’t so serious, Sam might have laughed.  “How is meditation going to help me take down the Devil?  I thought you were going to teach me some magic.” 

“You can’t do my type of magic.  I don’t know if I would classify this as magic anyway, more of an organization technique.  If you had mediated before that would have helped, but no matter, we’ll just have to start a little slower than initially planned.  Alright, we’ll start with your positioning.  Your feet should be flat on the floor, your back straight, and rest your hands gently on the top of your legs.”  Sam did as he was told.  “Good, now close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.  Eight seconds in, hold for eight seconds and let out for eight seconds.  Try to focus on your breathing and nothing else.”

Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes.  But he could tell Harry was deadly serious. 

“Alright,” Harry said after a couple of rounds of breathing exercises.  “Keep your eyes closed and we’re going to do a full-body scan.  Starting with your feet.  I want you to feel gravity pushing down on them.  Try to move each tiny muscle within your toes and then move onto the rest of your foot.”  The exercise continued up to Sam’s head. 

At the end of it all, Sam felt more relaxed and centered than he had felt in a long time. 

“Ok, do you feel calm and clear?” Harry asked.  Sam nodded.  “Good.  I want you to remember this feeling and hold onto it as much as you possibly can.  Legilimens.”

The wizard entered his brother’s mind.  He saw Sam at Stanford, in a class.  Students were gathered around a table debating a topic while a professor watched on and Harry could see the younger man’s focus and enthusiasm.  It made him smile.  He could tell that Sam knew he was there, which was a good sign, and that his brother didn’t mind Harry seeing this memory.  That wouldn’t do.  Harry was being as gentle as he could manage, and with the Elder Wand, this seemed easier than it ever had before.  He went a little deeper, looking for something that he knew would stir up Sam’s emotions a little more.  ‘Ah yes,’ Harry thought to himself, ‘there he is.’  It was night and Sam, younger than he was now, was in a shouting match with John.  An argument about college, it seemed. 

Sam felt irritated, he didn’t want to remember their father in this way.  Harry felt a slight push and was impressed.  He wasn’t completely confident that his brother would be able to do that.  

He could see that Sam was ruled by anger and it was the emotion most close to the front of his mind.  But anger was easy, he needed to find something more … private and shameful.  Shame was an emotion that might spark more resistance.  A grubby hotel room appeared and an attractive young lady, with dark hair, was talking to Sam.  Harry could feel Sam protesting, this was not something that he wanted his older brother to see.  Something that Harry didn’t know about.  Harry watched with interest as the woman made a cut on her arm and offered it up to the large man.  With horror, he saw Sam take it and start to…

“NO!” Sam yelled.  He pushed back.  It wasn’t enough to get Harry out, but he respected his brother enough to leave.  When he did, Sam instantly stood. 

“What the hell,” he asked angrily, standing up and towering over Harry.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?  That’s PRIVATE and none of your business.” 

Harry wasn’t so easily intimidated.  “What was that?”  he asked. 

“Nothing,” Sam responded, defensively. 

“Were you…were you drinking that woman’s blood?” 

Sam glared. “She wasn’t a woman.  She was a demon.” 

“Does that make it any better?” Harry asked. 

Sam huffed.  “No.  But it wasn’t some innocent woman that I was …” 

“You know what,” Harry interrupted.  “It doesn’t matter.  We don’t have much time.  I know that you feel shame about your actions.  What you need to practice the state you were in before I entered your head.  No emotion, no shame.  I wasn’t sure about teaching this to a Muggle, but you’re already showing more promise than many of my Aurors.  Now, sit back down, and let’s go again.”

Sam looked at his brother suspiciously.  “You won’t try to find that memory again?”

“No.  But I will try to find others that also hold high emotion for you.  It’s great that you can push back, but you need to do more.  You need to identify that emotion and let it go.  Once you do that, it will be far easier to push me out of the memory.  When I do this exercise, I think about catching and then releasing a snitch.”

“A what?”

“It’s a small golden ball … you know, this doesn’t matter.  I imagine catching a ball and then letting it fly away.  Can you think of something similar?” 

Sam nodded.

“Good.  Have a seat.  Here we go again.” 

Harry and Sam spent the rest of the night working on this technique.  The wizard was pleasantly surprised at how well his younger brother took to the art.  And at how well it distracted him while Harry did some other work in his brother’s head.  Ethically, it was a bit murky, but Harry could contend with the fall-out later if this is what would keep his younger brother alive.  

As the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds, Sam had successfully thrown Harry out of his mind twice.  This was also getting close to the time when Harry would need to get back to Dean.  Sam, not knowing that Dean was already well aware of all that was going on, swore Harry to secrecy about the time that they had just spent together.  And the memories that he had seen.  He didn’t think that Dean would ever accept his decision and wouldn’t look too kindly at Harry helping him with it.  Sam stopped the session a little short. 

“I think we have time to go through the exercises a couple more times,” Harry started, wanting to give his younger brother as much time as possible to learn. 

Sam shook his head.  “No.  There is something else I want to talk to you about before you leave.” 

Harry arched an eyebrow.  “What’s that?” 

“I appreciate your optimism, and faith in me, I do, so I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I want to talk about what happens if this all goes south.  Which is still the most likely outcome.”  Harry nodded for Sam to continue.  Something else that surprised Sam, Dean would never allow him to talk this way.  “Dean … Dean has been looking after me his whole life.  It wasn’t fair and he’s never complained, but I want him to find his own happiness.  After I’m gone … if I’m truly gone, I want you to help him accept that.  I want him to have a normal life.  No more moving around.  No more hunting.  I think … no, I know that you have the resources to help him achieve it.”

“Well, of course, I’ll help him with anything …”

“Not just money.  Support too.  You have an advantage over me, Harry.  You are far more similar to Dean.  I think you understand him better than me in some ways.  And you’ve lived through a war, you know how to move on.  You can teach him.  Just … be his brother?  You don’t need his protection the way I did and that puts you on even footing.  He respects you, even if he’d never admit it.  Keep him from this life.  Be there for him.  Promise me.” 

Harry could feel a knot growing in his throat.  And not just because he had no idea on how to recover from a war any better than Dean did.  He couldn’t even begin to understand how difficult it must have been for Sam to pass these responsibilities off to him.  “I will.  I promise.”

Sam nodded.  “Good.” 

“Do you want me to take you back to Bobby’s now?”

“You said it’s about a mile away from here,” Sam asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, then, if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to walk.”

“Of course.  And Sam …”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck.”     

III

“How’d it go?” Dean asked when Harry returned.  He could see the dark circles under Harry’s eyes and knew that he must have been up all night. 

“Better than I expected.  Still not great.  It might not be enough.”

Dean snorted.  “Story of our lives.”

“He thinks I was training him to control Lucifer, of course, but I don’t doubt that he can do that already.  He made me promise to leave him in the cage, if it came to that.” 

“Over my dead body,” Dean replied.  

“Don’t you think he’ll be suspicious that you and I had a falling out over the Hell plan just to have you accept it?”  

“You’re overthinking it, dude.  He’ll be so relieved I’m on board, I don’t think he’ll give you a second thought.”

III

Transatlantic travel was beginning to feel far more normal to Harry now.  And with the Elder Wand in his possession, he could now apparate straight from the US to his house in London.  That was going to come in handy.  He still preferred his original wand.  It had been a heavy evening/morning with Sam, but he had done what he could.  As soon as he made it back to the UK, the weight of the conversation he had with Death came crashing down on him. 

Master of Death.  He couldn’t deny the title anymore.  Holding all three Hallows felt…right somehow.  He was surprised at how much he felt like himself.  All this time he had worried that the title and the power would change him in some way.  But it was like he was more himself than he had ever been before. 

Harry had two things he needed to accomplish while home.  First, Gabriel had said that he had left a gift for Harry here.  As he entered Grimmauld the wizard couldn’t help but feel that he was coming back here for the last time.  He wasn’t sure if it was the title or the Devil, but Harry had never felt closer to his own death.  This fight felt bigger than any he had ever been in before.  And more important.  If he could use whatever Gabriel had left, along with the device from the Men of Letters to save his brothers, then he felt that he would have completed what was needed of him in this life. 

Honestly, he had been expecting to die ever since he had learned that Voldemort had entered his parent’s house to kill him.  He had needed to defeat Voldemort to protect the wizarding world.  He had needed to take down the remaining Death Eaters to protect his friends in Britain.  He had needed to keep himself safe enough to be there for Teddy before his godson would start making his own life at Hogwarts.  These things accomplished; Harry had felt adrift.  No one needed him anymore.  Sam and Dean had changed that.  He had a mission again – protect his brothers, help them stop the Apocalypse, and keep their small family intact.  If they were able to successfully remove Lucifer from Sam before his brother could jump into the cage, Harry planned to give the archangel the final shove down, which may require him to make the plunge.  He was more than prepared to give his own life to this cause.  Maybe, just maybe, this fight would lift the burden of his existence from those who thought they loved him.  He would leave them with letters, with closure, something the many people in his life had never left him.  They would mourn – his heart hurt in particular thinking of Teddy.  But in the end, he truly believed that they would be better off.  Master of Death or not, Harry didn’t think he’d survive the fall.   

But now wasn’t the time for macabre thoughts.  Maybe whatever Gabriel had left him would save them all.  He hesitated for a second before entering Sirius’ bedroom.  He had sealed the room after the war and rarely entered it himself.  He still felt his godfather’s death keenly.  It bothered him that Gabriel had entered this sacred space, but if it would help his brothers, then it was worth it.

It wasn’t hard to find the gift.  It was as Harry suspected – a weapon.  And one he recognized.  It was a spear.  The one that Michael had used to subdue Gabriel during the Roman Invasion of Egypt.  On the spear was a large pink post-it note.  It read, “Lance of Michael.  Designed to kill Lucifer, but will work on any archangel.  Use as a last resort.”

Harry picked the lance up.  He could feel the magic in it.  It felt like a force for good, but at the same time, the amount of power in it made him uncomfortable.  He also had no intention to use this on the Devil, he had another archangel in mind.  He placed it back down on the bed.  He had some letters to write.    

III

“Where’s Harry?” Was the first question that Sam asked when Dean returned to Bobby’s house alone.

A dark look crossed Dean’s face.  “It doesn’t matter.” 

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?  He’s the ace up our sleeve!  You’ve talked ad nauseam about how we need him.” 

“Well, we don’t,” Dean said shortly before grabbing a beer.

“Dean,” Sam said.

“Sam.  Look, it doesn’t matter.  He’s gone.  He’s not coming back, and we will probably never see him again.”

“What happened?”

Dean glared.  “I think you know.  Caught him sneaking into the motel room this morning.”

“Oh yeah?  Where’d he go?” Sam asked, trying to feign innocence. 

A look from Dean told Sam everything he needed to know. 

“Look, it wasn’t his fault.  He was trying to give me an out!  But he saw that this is the only way.  He was helping.”

“Helping you jump into Hell?  Well, he and I discussed that.  Loudly.  He knows he’s not welcome here anymore.”

Sam could sense that he wasn’t going to be getting any more out of his older brother.  He could only imagine how the argument went, but seeing how easily Harry had disappeared in the last couple of months, he wasn’t entirely surprised.  And maybe some of what Harry had seen in Sam’s memories was enough for the wizard to realize that Sam wasn’t worth saving.  Or maybe Harry used the fight as a way to keep the promise that he had made this morning.  It was probably best that Harry stay out of this final fight anyway, he couldn’t help Dean afterward if he was dead.  And as much as Sam resented the wizard for being protected from this life, as he always had been, he also saw the wisdom in it.  So, he let it go. 

III

“Justin, it’s good to see you, thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Harry said, shaking his friend’s hand as he entered the office.  

“Of course, Harry.  Thanks for the promotion.”

“You earned it, of course.”

“Thank you none-the-less.”  Although Justin knew that Harry had been abroad during his entire hiring process, he was shrewd enough to see a Golden Trio decision when it landed in his lap.   

“How is it – working with You-Know-Who?”

Justin had to stop and think before he realized that Harry wasn’t talking about Voldemort.  “Oh.  Him.  He’s actually great.  Fits right in with the Kendrick’s crowd, basically has the headmistress eating out of his hand.  And he’s not made one snarky comment about my blood status, so ten points to Slytherin.”

“He’s not here is he?”

“No.  I didn’t think that would be prudent.  Seeing as the two of you can’t seem to go more than two minutes without insulting each other.”  Justin wasn’t going to bring it up, but the two men had had a couple of physical alterations in the last couple of years.  It wasn’t a good look for the Head Auror.

“Thank Merlin,” Harry breathed.  “Did you find anything?”

Justin raised an eyebrow.  “We’ve found all sorts of things.  These Men of Letters – the technology they’ve created, it’s incredible.  And scary.  And that’s just what they’ve let us see. Who knows what they’re hiding.”

“You think they’re hiding things from you?”

“Oh, without a doubt.  That’s part of why Malfoy has been so useful, he has the whole Inquisitor Squad aura around him.  I think he’s going to get to the bottom of things.”

Harry had to put his Head Auror hat to the side for the moment, he really couldn’t stay in Britain for much longer at all.  But he had a feeling that they were going to have to contend with the Men of Letters sooner rather than later.  “Hermione said that you had something that could help.”

Justin seemed to hesitate.  “What did she tell you exactly?”

“Not much – just that you had a device that could remove things from hosts.”

“It does.  Malfoy and I saw a demonstration from the Men of Letters.  They successfully exorcised a demon from a Muggle in front of our eyes.  Made us traipse over to a secret base they have in France though, seeing as we don’t have any of them here.”

“And you think it will work?”

“Against the Devil?”

“Yeah.  Him.”

“Harry, I’ve got to tell you, before this, I thought demons were just make-believe in wizarding children’s books to create an enemy for the goofy hunters.  Merlin, playing Hunters and Demons was a regular Sunday afternoon activity in Hufflepuff.  And now I’m spending my days researching ways to bring down the Devil.  The real, actual Devil.  Which is to say that I’m hardly an expert, but I think this device has a chance.”

“What is it?”

Justin carefully pulled out a golden egg with runes written on the outside.  “This is a Hyperbolic Pulse Generator.”   

“How is it different from the spells we have to exorcise demons?”

“First, our spells will definitely only work on demons, I haven’t found any written-down magic that creates defenses or could attack an angel specifically.  Second, the effect on demons is the same, but the Men of Letters say that this will send the demons straight back to hell, while our spells just expel them from bodies and additional spells are used to destroy the demon itself.  But this thing has serious juice.  I know you didn’t take Ancient Runes as an elective, but if you had, you’d see that this has more power than a spell.”

“Hmm.  Will it work on an angel?”

“I don’t know.  The Men of Letters have not had an angel encounter in quite some time.  But in theory, looking at the runes, yeah.” 

“Can I see it?”

Justin handed the egg over gingerly.  It felt warm in Harry’s hands. 

“There is a spell that you say?”

“There is.  I’ll write it down for you…but…”

“But what?”

Justin looked uneasy.  “This weapon was designed for Muggles.  Or Squibs.  I had to smuggle this one out, but when they were showing me their arsenal, they made it pretty clear that it wasn’t advisable for wizards to use their weapons.  Something about the mixtures of Earthly and Heavenly magic.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s unfortunate.”  There was a moment of hesitation.  “Harry, this job has been really interesting, and I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful, but why the sudden interest in the Muggle supernatural?  The work the Men of Letters have done has assured us that none of these monsters can bother us in Britain.  At the same time, I overheard some discussions of the recent natural disasters that have been taking place in the last couple of months and how these creatures could be behind those.  I just can’t piece together what is going on here.  Are we in danger?”

“We’re always in danger,” Harry responded.  “And I’m afraid that I have no way of answering your question.  I don’t want to lie to you, but there are lives at stake here, so I cannot divulge any information to you.  Not yet at least, and possibly not ever.”

Justin sighed.  “I thought that might be the case.  You know Harry, you have more than Ron and Hermione to help you if you’re in trouble.  You say the word and you can have the whole DA behind you at a moment’s notice.” 

Harry didn’t feel like he deserved friends like these.  “I know Justin, and I appreciate it.  Look, I know you’re busy.  Do you have anything else that may be helpful?”

Justin knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he moved on.  For a couple of hours, the two sat and discussed different angel warding and spells to deal with demons.  It was very helpful and Harry walked away feeling more confident that if he and his brothers managed to stop the apocalypse and come out of it alive, that he would be able to help them in far more significant ways than just throwing money their way.  It amused him to think of quitting his job to become a hunter – it would be quite the scandal. 

III

It was a sunny day.  Sam was sitting on the hood of the Impala drinking a beer.  It had been a restless night of almost no sleep.  Dean came and joined him.

“Hey,” Sam said.

Dean took a beer out of the cooler and leaned against the Impala. 

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asked, concerned. 

“I’m in.”

“In with…?”

“The whole ‘up with Satan’ thing. I’m on board.”

That surprised Sam.  “You’re gonna let me say yes?”

“No.  That’s the thing.  It’s not on me to let you do anything.  Harry made that abundantly clear to me.  You’re a grown – well, overgrown – man.  If this is what you want, I’ll back your play.”

“That’s the last thing I thought you’d ever say.”

“Might be.  I’m not gonna lie to you, though.  It goes against every fiber I got.  I mean, truth is … You know, watching out for you … it’s kinda been my job, you know?  But more than that, it’s … it’s kinda who I am.  You’re not a kid anymore, Sam, and I can’t keep treating you like one.  Maybe I got to grow up a little, too.  I don’t know if we got a snowball’s chance.  But … But I do know that if anybody can do it … it’s you.”

“Thank you.”

“If this is what you want…Is this really what you want?”

“I let him out.  I got to put him back in.”

“Okay.  That’s it, then.”

III

There was one last thing that Harry wanted to do before he returned to help Sam and Dean.  He had debated it so many times in his head.  And he would have loved some liquid courage to get him to act, but he had promised himself that he would lay off the whiskey entirely until he found out if there would be an after.  It went against his every instinct, but he felt that he owed it to his brothers to be sober for this experience. 

Sitting in Sirius’ room with the strongest warding he could conjure, Harry pulled out the Resurrection Stone.  Now that he was Master of Death, officially, this action was not likely to drive him to insanity.  Especially if he kept it short.  And this felt like his last chance and he didn’t want it to pass him by.  He held the stone in his hands and turned it three times.  He didn’t even have the courage (some Gryffindor he was) to look up until he heard a low, gravely, voice say, “Harry?”

Taking a deep breath, and looking up from the floor that had previously been so fascinating, Harry came face-to-face to John Winchester.  He looked older than he had when Harry was a child. 

“Dad,” he breathed.  Just saying the name made his heart ache.    

“Harry,” John repeated.  He looked very serious and, for a second Harry wondered if he had made a mistake, if this was going to be just as disastrous as his last meeting with the man.  And then John smiled and Harry felt his worries melt.  “Stand up, let me get a look at you.”

Harry did. 

“You’re so grown up,” he commented, “and so much shorter than your brothers.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh.  “That’s what everyone says.”

“Come here,” John said, and he enveloped Harry in a hug.  He was more solid than Harry had been expecting, and at the unexpected gesture and warmth, Harry felt hot tears slide down his cheeks.  Harry stepped back and wiped his face. 

“Dad, I am so sorry.”  Harry was once again looking at the floor.  “I should have been there.  I should have come back earlier. Maybe if I had …”

“Henry Winchester, you look at me,” John said in a commanding voice that Harry had hated so much as a child.  But he looked up.  “I don’t blame you.  It wasn’t your fault.  You were a kid … and the things that Michael said to you …”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, dying has a way of jogging the memory.  Those words…they weren’t mine.  I love you Harry, and the biggest regret of my life was that I lost you.  Twice.  You deserved so much more than you got.  I may not have been a stellar father, but you belonged with me.  And Sam and Dean.  You are a Winchester.”

A weight that Harry had been holding on his shoulders unknowingly for years, lifted.  “Thank you.”

“Ah.  Always were the polite one, weren’t you?  You don’t need to thank me for acknowledging you as my son.”

Harry nodded.  He didn’t know what to say. 

But John did.  “Sit son,” he said, sitting in an armchair and pointing to the one directly in front of it.  Harry obeyed.  “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Harry asked. 

John leveled him with a look that said that Harry already knew the answer to that question and was being thick for even asking. 

Harry told him everything.  About the war and all that still weighed on him.  Deaths, mostly.  And then, what had brought him back to Sam and Dean.  His regrets over not having come back sooner.  The lighter things too.  How he could still so easily get a rise out of Dean and how answering Sam’s never-ending questions made him smile.  

John, for his part, was a good listener.  Asking questions where appropriate and nodding to show he understood.  John then filled him in on some of the things he had missed that Sam and Dean didn’t know anything about.  How he checked on Sammy while he was at school and his pride that Dean had become such a great hunter.  He thought they were both better than him and he was so proud.  In turn, Harry told him about Teddy and how he felt being a father was the most terrifying and rewarding experience in his life, and how that had changed his views on John.  He understood better now.      

Then Harry started to feel a pull. 

“Our time’s up isn’t it?” John asked.

“I think so.”

“Time was never on our side.  Thank you for calling me down, Harry.  This is more than I ever thought I would get with you.  You are a remarkable man and I’m just as proud of you as I am of your brothers.  I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Harry responded, surprised at how easily those words came to him, before initiating one last hug.  His father disappeared from his arms as Harry dropped the stone on the ground. 

III

Sam and Dean were in the Impala, driving to Detroit.  In the back seat, Castiel was fast asleep.  Other than the tension in the car, they could have been on their way to a regular case. 

“Maybe this is him rolling out the red carpet, you know?  Maybe he knows something we don’t,” Dean said.  Although it seemed like an off-the-cuff remark, this was a carefully crafted line that he hoped that Lucifer saw when he was in Sam’s head.  Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“Dean, I’m sure he knows a buttload we don’t.  We just got to hope he doesn’t know about the rings.  Hey, um…on the subject, there’s something I got to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“This thing goes our way and I… Triple Lindy into that box… you know I’m not coming back.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“So you got to promise me something.”

“Ok.  Yeah.  Anything.”

“You got to promise not to try and to bring me back.”

“What?  No, I didn’t sign up for that.”  He didn’t – he and Harry had a whole plan.