CORRIGENDA

I. Ab Initio

THEN

Thunderbird Diner
Adams, Massachusetts

1987

It was supposed to be a salt and burn; easy enough to do on the run. He'd been gone for almost three days now tracking the thing that had killed Mary when the trail went cold. Thankfully the boys weren't with him this time around. He'd left them in Bobby's most capable hands; promising to return after the week was up.

Of course – nothing ever came easy for John Winchester.

The trail had led him to Massachusetts and an old farmhouse that locals deemed unsafe. Strange things always happened there but no one could recall exactly what. People would go there sometimes and while some said that it was just a spooky, abandoned lot of land with nothing to see. While others were seen going there and never came back. Reading over reports and articles from the local library; John thought he was dealing with a creature instead of a ghost.

"This is fantastic."

The older Winchester who was tucking into a dinner of steak and potatoes eyed the redhead who had spoken. He sucked in a breath; the woman was a hell of a looker. Gorgeous auburn locks that hung to her elbows, dark green sweater dress, legs that went for days and eyes that reminded him painfully of Mary. Her English accent threw him for a loop; what was a Brit doing out here in the middle of nowhere in November?

As it turned out Lily Evans was here visiting with her friend and someone had suggested them see Mount Greylock. Adams was the closest town. Alice Selwyn eyed him something strange but the pair seemed to take him with a grain of salt.

Of course; that all changed when the duo of women somehow helped him with the creature problem. Who knew things such as Puckwudgies actually existed? After some bruising, danger and evading being tortured by one fugly thing; John was thankful for the women he'd talked up in the diner. Thankfully he'd had his fill of Lily Evans. That blush she had was something exciting and had him dreaming of strawberry rhubarb pie all the way back to the Singer Salvage Yard.

- 01. Wayward Son -

11 YEARS LATER…

Singer Salvage Yard
Sioux Falls, SD

"Well," Bobby Singer rumbled as he took another chug of beer. "You've got a choice to make. You open it or you don't."

The dark haired man in front of him barely moved. The pair sat in the kitchen of Bobby's home; a table between them. It had been barely six hours since the eldest Winchester had returned from a solo hunting trip tracking down another ghoul two states West of Sioux Falls. The moment Bobby got the envelope he'd called John and told him to get down for his mail. The Hunter was no mail delivery service.

Their quiet revolved around the rectangular piece of paper between them.

John Winchester

c/o Singer Salvage Yard

Sioux Falls, SD

The hunter it was addressed to saw the childish scrawl upon the face of the white envelope buried in an inordinate amount of postage stamps. How it even managed to even get to Bobby's mailbox without a proper address confounded the old mechanic. It also made him paranoid. Something he had told John in no uncertain terms.

With a quiet sigh, the older Winchester reached for the envelope. In a single motion, using the pen knife he had on him at all times, he opened it. Ending not only his misery in procrastinating reading the damn thing but also Bobby's who was getting annoyed at the idiot in front of him.

The content of the letter was simply astounding. As he read, John's face seemed to pale and drain of colour. His eyebrows furrowed and he took on a dark look often reserved for something more violent.

Dear Mr. John Winchester,

My name is Harry Potter. I am eleven. My mother left me your name and mailing address in a journal she left for me. She said to contact you to let you know who I was. She said she sent you a letter. She said she sent it to you years ago before I was born but you never wrote back. I hope you will make an exception. I am writing you because I would like to request time to stay with you this summer. It would just be for a couple of weeks, I will not cost much to feed or house me. I have money she and my dad James left for me after they died that I can use to keep me. I will stay out of your way or help with chores or something. My relatives are not the most pleasant sort. I would also like to get to know you as well. I know this is a strange request but I would very much like to get away from here. Please if you could write me back I would appreciate it.

I have attached an already to post envelope that you can drop off at any mail box and it shall get to me. At least that is what the mail clerk told me. I do look forward to hearing from you soon. Please write back!

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Without looking, John ignored the glass of Jack in front of him and went directly for the bottle he had kept to the side. He dropped the letter he had just finished reading on the table. He pushed it towards his friend looking ill. He normally didn't trust anyone with things like this. He was a paranoid, wildly private man after all. Bobby was a friend, almost a brother and was trusted. The other man took a glance at the letter.

Without speaking both took another drink before looking once more at the innocuous piece of paper.

"How long did you know?" Bobby asked.

"Ten years."

"Idjit," was the crotchety, standard response. "You didn't know she was gone?"

"First time to know about it," John sighed. Looking at his friend, he started digging into the hidden pocket of his jacket. "Here."

Bobby took the faded item he'd been handed. It was an image of a baby, a boy, in diapers staring up at the camera with bright green eyes and flyaway black hair. The hair was similar to the type sported by John himself. On the back was faded feminine writing.

Harry James Potter, 15 mos.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know Bobby." John said. "The boys don't know either. Lily, Harry's mom, wrote me twice. Once to let me know she was expecting and the second in response to a letter I sent her asking her about the boy. She sent me that picture and told me in that second letter not to contact them anymore. What the hell was I supposed to do? Money was tight, if I was going to get on a plane to go to a whole different country seeking out my son when it's obvious his mother is not giving me the choice to be part of his life. Who am I to interfere? I thought he was happy."

There was more drinking.

"You are a bastard Winchester," Bobby replied. "Kid sounds like he hates home."

"What am I supposed to do about this? I don't have a stable address, your place being an exception. I can barely give Dean and Sam the stability they most likely need in their youth. That yellow-eyed beast is still out there doing whatever the fuck it wants. Bringing another kid into that mix? I – I really don't want to bring another one of my offspring into this mess." John growled.

"Then keep it in your pants next time." Bobby muttered. "Look, just respond to the boy. Get him to specify why his relatives aren't pleasant then make your decision from there. Tell the boys. They'd want to know."

The darker haired man took a deep breath in feeling lost inside. His life was no life for a kid. Pleasant or not, the kid had a stable home life and that was worth its weight in gold. Fucking up another kid's life was something he didn't want to do.

Without speaking to Bobby, John packed the envelope and the image into the pocket of his jacket. He took another sip from the bottle of Jack, nodded to his friend and walked away.

"John," Bobby called. "John!"

It was too late by the time Bobby followed him out. John Winchester out of the door and to the Impala to head back to the hotel he had left his boys at about an hour from Bobby's place. The other hunter watched the brunet male go – eyes following the dust of the car leave in the distance. He sighed.

"Moron."

3 YEARS LATER…

Non-descript Motel
Idaho Falls, ID

Dean needed air. So he took the nearest jacket to him as he escaped into the night outside the motel room. He nearly went back in when he realized he'd gotten his dad's jacket which was similar to his own. Deciding it didn't matter, the old man was wasted.

John had fallen asleep after knocking back some Miller, Jack and Jose. It was like an after hunt ritual. Usually Dean would get cleaned up some before hitting the town looking to get laid so he didn't have to stay at the hotel. Since Sam had left nearly eight weeks ago for Stanford, John had become colder than normal. Whatever, man after this the pair were going to Bobby's to get a new car. Even though no car could ever replace the Impala; he loved that thing.

Standing outside, it was cold, a blustery December night in Idaho. He would have wanted to remain in doors but the Podunk town they were in didn't have a proper pub. Breathing in the cool air, Dean looked oddly at his chest. There was this heavy weight from the pocket of the jacket his dad wore. Normally he wouldn't have taken his dad's things. He had his own jacket but out of spite; he'd done it. He was still pissed off at John about Sammy.

That thought in mind, Dean quietly and quickly snooped at his dad's jacket. What he found was an interesting.

Two pictures; one Dean recognized as him and Sam. The other was a kid named Harry. Recognizing the kid's eyes since he saw them every day in the mirror – Dean was frozen in realization. No way, no fucking way this was happening. He marched back into the hotel room. He looked at his passed out father while looking at the picture of the kid. The similarities were too close. He wanted to shake his father awake and confront him about these images.

He shrugged off the offending clothing he'd taken and replaced the pictures. He was upset. If Sammy was around he'd be upset to. Of course the word "upset" was too light a term to describe exactly what he was feeling given the discovery.

He lay in bed at that point, not seeing and not sleeping as he stared listlessly at the ceiling above him. He'd been hunting with his dad for as long as he could remember. You'd think family should know about each other. This Harry kid; he could be Sam's age or even younger.

Morning came in grey and quick. Dean hadn't slept a wink. So when John started rousing himself awake with a migraine; he hadn't felt bad for plonking coffee for his father to consume. He also didn't feel too bad for closing the passenger door more forcefully than usual on the Impala.

It took miles of road but as the Impala reached the familiar mechanic's dream yard; Dean brought up the pictures.

"Were you ever going to tell us about Harry?" Dean asked with finality as the Impala came to a halt. The look on his father's face was more than enough of an answer. "How long have you known about him?"

John remained silent.

"Does Bobby know?" Another look and the pit in Dean's stomach grew wider. He knew his dad wasn't perfect. Hell the past sixteen years of his life was spent in dive hotels, bars, taking orders and taking out evil spirits. It was only recently that dad was giving Dean more freedom to do whatever he wanted. Normal was something of a fantasy. The one thing the eldest Winchester was apart from the slight mischief he liked to cause at times was be pragmatic.

He wasn't going to get straight answers through his dad. Look at what happened with Sammy. While he loved his dad and his brother; Dean knew. His dad was not going to own up to the mess their lives became since Yellow Eyes took it all away. The eldest Winchester brother escaped the confines of the car just as John put the vehicle into park. Dean had kept his bag with him, something he normally wouldn't do. There wasn't enough space for his bag and his nearly 6'1 frame in the cramping passenger seat. Yet there he was duffle in hand and pounding up the stairs of Bobby's house.

"Bobby, do you know about Harry?"

The red haired hunter took one look at Dean's flushed face and cast a disappointed glare at the eldest Winchester.

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "I knew. Come inside so we can get this powwow over with."

Betrayal of trust: it was something that John Winchester seemed to be good at.

2 HOURS LATER…

Front Door
Singer Salvage Yard
Sioux Falls, SD

The Impala remained in Bobby's drive as John got the keys to another truck his old friend had on the lot. He passed on the keys of the Chevy to Dean. He left about a minute past midnight. Stopping for a bit of gas as he raced his way to a job he'd picked up just before getting to Bobby's in Michigan. Dean watched as his dad left, green eyes filled with unspeakable emotion.

He felt a clap on his shoulder as something cold pressed upon his bicep. Unblinkingly he saw the bottle of beer and the rough look on Bobby's face. Without speaking he took the bottle and followed the older man into the home. Bobby sighed. "Come on, I gotta show you something."

Dean gulped down the first bit of beer. No need to keep the old hunter waiting. Following the russet haired hunter to the study he shrugged off his jacket. Effortlessly the young man switched the bottle of beer from one hand to another, before chucking the article on the back of one of the chairs. He slumped into the seat. Distracted from the present state of his family life, Dean was thankful for one thing. He had always been good at compartmentalizing his feelings. He had had to. John wasn't into feelings and Sam was far too sensitive at times that it made him crazy. So Bobby telling him he had things to show him helped ease up some of the excess emotion he had inside.

"Here, I figure since you now know – you can do something about these. They've stopped coming though since about June and the kid's pretty religious about having this sent out here at least once a month even though he hasn't had a reply. I haven't received anything yet for December." Bobby said as he placed a blue Rubbermaid bin in front of Dean. "If you're going to be up for a while, you know what to do. I'm going to go catch me some sleep. It's been a long ass night."

The twenty-three year old man stared at the bin. With shaking hands he popped open the lid and was nearly flummoxed by the sheer amount. There were nearly a hundred envelopes, all of them sealed and in varying types of paper. Some even looked like they were made from parchment. Dean nearly whistled; he'd have to hand it to the kid. Persistence and stubborn Winchester pride.

Seeing that one of the envelopes was open; he started from there.

Dear Mr. John Winchester,

My name is Harry Potter. I am eleven.

THE NEXT DAY

Singer Salvage Yard
Sioux Falls, SD

He opened his eyes, feeling the grit there and the pounding headache thereafter. He must have spent most of the night reading the letters his brother had sent. He tried to keep things neat, making sure that nothing was out of place. Harry didn't have the best penmanship but the kid tried. Somehow, along the way his youngest brother wormed his way into the place where Dean's heart rested. He wanted to curse his dad.

"Here." Dean saw Bobby plonk down a cup of dark liquid in front of him. Rubbing his eyes and stretching tense muscles, the young man thanked the older hunter for the drink. "So? What's he like?"

"He's a right old chip from off the block," Dean replied. "He's gotten into more shit away from us than either Sam or I did growing up. His relatives are assholes and I wish I could find a way to get over there to help him. I just don't get why dad would leave the kid hanging." Dean whispered. "He even says here that he hates his folks at home."

Bobby shrugged. "I don't know either. Your daddy's got reasons but they're probably stupid. You've been careful at least.

Bobby sat across from Dean and saw that the boy had opened most of the envelopes already. "He sent dad a scarf from his school. Something to do with his house – whatever the hell that means – and a weird mood changing ball; do you still have them?"

The older hunter nodded. "I'll get them later. Tell me is the kid good?"

"He's got more angst than Sam." Dean muttered. "But at least he's got a sense of humour. I've got about ten more of his stuff to read before I can even think of sending him a reply back."

The pair sat in the silence as Dean drank his coffee and looked over the envelopes. His lips were pursed as he quickly reviewed what he knew about his youngest brother so far. The most stand out being – the kid was a wizard – a wand-wielding, bonafide wizard. Looking up at the crusty hunter in front of him, Dean made up his mind. Pulling the letter that had held that information, he pushed it towards Bobby.

"Before you judge this letter," Dean said. "Some background – the kid just found out about his godfather being a mass murderer."

The hunter stared at the younger man before snatching the parchment he'd been given.

John,

I have no idea if you read any of these. Seeing as you've been silent for the past couple of years, I'll take that as a no. I'm going to school soon. Guess what, it's a magic school – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I fucking don't care anymore if you read this or not. I don't even care if it goes against the Statute. Honestly, you've been less of a father to me than James was and he's currently resting in a graveyard in a place called Godric's Hollow. Look at that, more information for you. I'm not crazy. If you're not John, then you can just say that I am. It must be hard being a father of a kid you don't want anything to do with. Reason why I'm even writing this is because of bloody Black. This bastard's after me and it's not as if my life isn't ass over backwards already. In case someone cared. Whoever owns or runs Singer Salvage Yard is probably getting their secretary to chuck these letters in a bi somewhere. Whatever, same procedure applies. Send a reply with the envelope.

H

Together, Dean and Bobby spent the next couple of days sorting out the remaining letters that had been coming to Bobby's Salvage Yard for the past three and a half years.

NOW

Great Hall

Hogwarts, UK

The morning mail arrived as it usually did. Over at Gryffindor table, a pale boy with dark hair and bright green eyes picked at his porridge wondering what the hell he was going to do about the Tournament. He ignored the bushy haired brunette badgering him to eat more and the carrot top boy at his side arguing in his defense. He had far too many thoughts in his mind to truly pay attention or care anymore. Of course, that all changed when a hasty brown owl dropped an envelope overhead.

Harry James Potter frowned as he took the A4 envelope from said owl. He stared at the familiar writing and the stamp affixed on the corner. He had to blink a few times because it was just a lot to take in.

"Harry?" Hermione said his name. Harry blinked owlishly up at her before nodding.

"You know I think I left something in the tower, see you in class." He didn't give them a moment to reply. He whirled out of the bench he sat in, taking with him his school materials. He had no intention of going to the tower. It had been an obvious ruse to get away from what was going to be far too much attention on his family secret. A secret he thought not even Dumbledore knew about. Something he was secretly pleased with. He speedily walked through the corridors before reaching the door of his first class. No one was in Transfiguration when he finally sat down at his usual place. With quiet vigour Harry ripped into the envelope; a mass of emotion.

In neat capital letters he read his own name.

Harry,

Some life you've got there. I'm Dean Winchester, your older brother. Just found out about you and read over your letters. Sorry bud we couldn't have been there for some of the shite you've been through. If you need anything, call me. My number's below. I hate writing things so, yeah, talk to me whenever you can.

Dean

Author's Note: See my profile for standard disclaimer. For background info (but not necessary) will be mostly S1 - S5 for SPN and somewhat AU for HP with some canon thrown into the mix. Hopefully you like this so far. Thoughts about the content in the form of a review is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading, let's see where this fic will take us shall we? Also since I'm not English from across the pond; my slang and verbiage is going to be atrocious. You've been forewarned.

Edit February 26, 2017: I just realized that this now going to take elements from all seasons of SPN thus far, as well as parts of Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts. I also just finished writing a pretty emotional scene that's going to wrap this section up. Additionally, I know the pairings now. Mostly het but hints of slash if you squint. Also tidied this chapter up. There was a line about trojans I took out because it just did not flow with the story. Thanks for reading! Moving on.