A/N: I posted a story similar to this before under the title 'Carry On My Wizard Son', but I didn't like where it was heading and there was way too many loopholes. It extremely hard combining the SPN and HP worlds together, so I'm hoping I've done a much better job here than before. This is un-beta'd. I hope there isn't too many mistakes and that you all enjoy this first chapter!

Warning: AU in some areas. I've had to change certain elements in canon for it all to fit better.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I own Supernatural.

Carry On My Wayward Wizard:

Harry Potter was no ordinary child. He was a boy with exceedingly exceptional gifts and an affinity for independence. That's why at age eleven when a snowy owl greeted him for a second time with another letter containing information about a school where he could harness these gifts, he tore it up and never looked back.

Magic was not the only thing that made Harry a special boy though, no. He was a trained hunter, raised to fend off the servants of hell and other ghoulish types. His mentor never hid the fact that he was an orphan or what true terrors lurked in the seemingly normal world, Vic could never lie to him.

He was like a father to Harry, but always made it a point to remind him that he wasn't. If Harry became too comfortable in his life with Vic, he would forget his purpose, why he was training in the first place. Not that Harry remembered the event too clearly, seeing as he was only one at the time, but Vic informed him about it when he became old enough to understand.

Harry once lived in a place named 'Godric's Hollow' with his biological parents. He assumed that he lived a happy life with them, until the peace was disturbed by a force greater than him. A being, a monster attacked his family with a burst of green light and only he remained. That's how Vic found him. He tracked down the mystery monster to the quaint village when his EMF meter spiked. He was already in the village prior to its appearance, due to certain unusual happenings in the surrounding areas, so it didn't take him long to arrive at the house. However, he wasn't quick enough and all that remained was the lifeless bodies of a man and a woman, and a crying, green-eyed baby.

Vic was not the sentimental type, but seeing Harry alone in his cot evoked something within him. It reminded him of his own past and how his father was brutally taken from him. He couldn't let another child go without someone to care for them like he had to, and so compassion won out. He took Harry and taught him everything he knew, because just like him, he knew that the boy would one day want his revenge. And who was he to deny him of that pleasure?

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As the years went on, Vic began to notice strange things about Harry. He was no ordinary child. He could make things happen by will alone and had unexplainable gifts. With all of the research he had done, he could not find anything remotely similar to what was happening to Harry. He had heard of a group of kids in America that had been fed demon blood as babies, enabling them to have incredible powers, but Harry was different. It was almost like magic.

When the letter arrived, his suspicions were confirmed. Vic didn't have a hard time believing that magic without making a deal and selling your soul existed, because nothing shocked him anymore. Being a hunter takes away any element of surprise.

He asked the boy what he wanted to do, go off to this school and learn from this Dumbledore, or stay and train with him? He had expected Harry to choose the school, who wouldn't? It was a chance for him to cultivate his skills, understand his power and meet people like him, but Harry didn't see it that way. He knew that if he left now, he would never be able to become a serious hunter, meaning that he would never be able to get his revenge. He didn't care if his parent's murderer was a demon, wizard, vampire or a wendigo. He just knew that Vic found him first, gave him a home and devoted his life to help him. He knew his magic was wild and untamed and going to the school would benefit him greatly, but going there as a naive child who knew nothing of that world seemed dumb. His parent's killer was most likely still out there, and going into that world untrained as a hunter, as well as an untrained wizard could result in his untimely death. Plus, his hunting skills would be extremely beneficial if the mystery murderer was a wizard. Harry would have a whole repertoire of tricks under his sleeve to use on them and they wouldn't know a thing, assuming they were dependent on magic only. He took the letter from his mentor's hands and crumpled it into a ball.

"Maybe in a couple of years." He said as he threw the ball into the bin.

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The sound of classic rock filled the van as the duo drove back from Devon on a hunting trip. Their services were required all over the British Isles because they were known to be the best. Vic was a maverick before having Harry on his side, but now they were unstoppable. Harry's magical gifts had grown quite rapidly throughout the years, making most jobs a breeze. Even though Harry had said that he wanted to train as a hunter before delving into the depths of his abilities, he made it a point to study and learn on the side. He remembered how he got started.

The very next day after making his decision not to go to Hogwarts, he attempted to travel to the place where the letter had told him to get his school equipment from. It was a lot harder than he thought and he gained respect for his fellow wizards and witches for their secrecy. He decided to let Vic know about his plans to learn about his heritage on the side of hunter training.

He wasn't shocked at the boy's decision, because who wouldn't be curious after discovering a whole new side to yourself? He made it a point to help him find this "Diagon Alley". After a few months of trailing others who were potential wizards, Harry and Vic had finally found the place. Vic let Harry venture alone, trusting him more than any adult he knows.

Harry's first stop was the bank at the end of the street. Vic had given him some money and he had hoped to get it changed into the appropriate currency so he could buy what he needed. As he walked into the bank, he noticed that the workers were not human. He couldn't identify them and being in their presence made him uneasy as a hunter. Seeing weird creatures and not automatically attacking them was a foreign experience.

"Who do we have here then? The famous Harry Potter, finally come to check your vaults?" The creature at the front desk snarled.

Harry looked at him in confusion. How did he know his name and what did he mean by checking his vaults?

"I don't understand." He said flatly. "How do you know my name, and what do you mean vaults? I came here to exchange some money."

The creature eyed him curiously and got up from his seat and used his finger to beckon Harry.

Harry didn't like taking orders from strangers, especially ones who looked like things he killed on a regular basis, but his curiosity won out and he followed him into the adjacent room.

"Mr Potter, am I right in assuming that this is your first trip into the wizarding world?" he asked.

"It is. Now will you answer my questions?" Harry replied impatiently.

He smirked in reply. "All in good time, Mr Potter."

He then shuffled to the set of drawers on the side of the office and started searching for something. Minutes later he pulled out an old newspaper article dated back to 1981 and presented it to Harry.

"I believe that this will explain everything."

Harry took the paper into his hands and read with shock. He knew the baby on the cover was him. It was about the night his parents died. Years of the event being shrouded in mystery, now the answer finally was in his hands. It was a wizard. A wizard with a name that was apparently too terrifying to print, but a wizard no less, who murdered his parents. Harry was always curious about the bizarre shaped scar on his forehead which Vic had told him he had from when he found him, and now he knew that it was a symbol of the attempt made on his life. This "He-who-shall-not-be-named" had tried to kill him too, but failed and in his failure, had apparently died himself. He had already killed his enemy, or so it seemed. The article was filled with people denying that this Dark Lord was well and truly gone and others who believed that he is just biding his time before he wreaks havoc once more. Harry thought that those opinions were correct, more than the assumption of that the most powerful, dark wizard of all time had died at the hands of a mere baby. This new development would not stop him from training. As a hunter, he knew that it was always possible to come back from the dead and that just because you think something is over, it may have only just begun.

He handed the paper back to the banker in silence and looked up.

"That still doesn't explain how you knew that I was Harry Potter." he said.

"My kind know our customers well, whether we've met them or not." The banker replied eerily.

Harry didn't think that was a proper answer, but he had no to time to question it. He was more concerned about his money.

"Now, about these vaults?"

The creature looked surprise at Harry's lack of emotion and evident composure. For one who had just read about their parents' death and that he's the face for everything light, he was way too calm. Potter was not an ordinary boy.

He made his way back to his seat.

"Well, your parents left you a trust fund to help you through your time at Hogwarts. I assumed that you came here to withdraw some money to buy your school items before the term starts." He explained.

"I'm not going to Hogwarts, not yet anyway." The banker's eyes widened for a second time that day.

"Is it absolutely necessary that I have to be in education for me to withdraw funds from that particular vault?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Mr Potter. However, your trust fund is not your only vault."

"I have another?"

The goblin smirked again as he pulled out some papers from his desk.

"You are the Boy-Who-Lived, you have many vaults." He handed the papers to Harry. "After the defeat of that tyrant, many people entrusted their money and heirlooms to you, the perceived messiah. You can withdraw money from all of these accounts, as well as the Potter family vault. You are the last, living heir after all."

They were all nuts. Magical people were nuts. How could people give him their belongings and money when they don't even know him. That was just blind faith. He didn't even know if these people had families. What if they were being deprived of their inheritance, just because he did something he couldn't even remember? He was happy about the Potter vault though, it meant that he wouldn't be forced to attend Hogwarts if he wanted to buy supplies and he wouldn't have to mooch off Vic.

"Okay, I would like to make a withdrawal from the Potter vault then please."

After a dangerous cart ride, rivalling any theme park, they had made it to his vault. The banker handed him a loose bag to collect his money.

"It's bottomless, so fill it with however much you think you need."

He turned the key and opened the door. The dust fell off in waves, it was more than believable that no one had come here in ten years. When he got inside, he forgot about the dust. Gold. Mountains of gold. He made a mental note to ask the banker what the currency system was before he left, but he assumed that he was more than well off.

As he piled the shiny coins into the bag, he found some heirlooms amongst the money. He didn't really see the significance of an old broom and a bunch of things that looked like they belonged to a couple of teenagers, but his parents obviously did and that meant something to him. He took the lone yellow and red, stripey scarf with him and exited the vault. The scarf would help remind him of what he was fighting for. His parents, nothing more. He didn't want to be a part of this wizarding war, whether it was over or just beginning.

He made his way back to the cart and began his barrage of questions for the creature, starting off with the most ignorant.

"So, what are you?"

He made a mental note of how long it took for the boy to ask him that question. He didn't even seem phased when they first met, unlike most people from the muggle world who meet a goblin for the first time.

"I am a Goblin, Mr Potter."

"Never met one of you before."

At this, he again became suspicious of Harry. He said it like he had already met all manners of creatures, yet he obviously was new to the wizarding world. He let the boy continue with his questions as he quietly observed him for the rest of the short journey.

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After the cart journey, Harry was anxious to depart. He needed to get supplies and tell Vic everything.

"Well, thanks for your help, erm. I didn't actually catch your name." Harry scratched his head awkwardly.

"Griphook, Mr Potter. Be sure to remember me next time when you visit."

Harry smiled at the goblin. "Will do."

He exited the bank feeling like a new person. He had just discovered a missing chunk of his life and he now he knew that he couldn't let up on his training. Even if the Dark Lord was dead, his followers were still around and they would most definitely be out for his blood. With that thought, he headed to the wand shop named, 'Ollivanders'.

Upon entering, dust trickled into his nose and made him sneeze. 'What's with the wizarding world and dust?' he thought humorously.

"Mr Potter. I've been expecting you." The voice came from an old man who was stacking shelves at the back of the shop.

'Oh great, another person who apparently knows more about me than myself'. He rolled his eyes.

"You must be Ollivander, the wand-maker, right?"

He stepped off the ladder and walked towards Harry. "I am indeed and you are here for your wand, yes?"

Harry nodded in response.

"Then let's begin, shall we?"

After several failed attempts, Harry was beginning to think that he wouldn't be able to buy a wand today, even Ollivander's patience seemed to be running out.

"Maybe. Just maybe...hm." the man mumbled under his breath as he disappeared for a moment.

Harry was beginning to get tired and he hadn't even properly begun shopping for his training supplies. He was ready to leave and try again tomorrow until he walked back out with an old box.

"This wand, Mr Potter is no ordinary wand. The phoenix that gave its feather for the core, also gave another." He explained.

"I don't understand why that's important." Harry asked confusedly.

"Ah, it is important because the other feather is in the core of the wand, of the man who gave you that scar. They are brother wands."

He stared at the old man intently. Why did he think that the brother wand to his parents killer would work for him? If anything, it's a little bit sick. However, Ollivander had explained that the wand picks the wizard, you can't pick and choose what you want. With that mentality, Harry picked it up from the box.

A light shrouded his body with great force, but dimmed suddenly.

"It looks like we've found your match, Mr Potter."

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He remembered that day fondly. Magic had become one of his great loves and he was happy he was able to experience it without outside interference. Now at sixteen, and feeling as though he had learnt all he can by himself, Harry thought it was time to have a talk with Vic. His hunting skills had peaked and he was a force to be reckoned with and his wizarding knowledge had become quite extensive. He managed to get around the 'not being able to do magic outside of Hogwarts' clause, because he was never a student in the first place. He flew under the radar, hid his identity with a thick, black cloak on his adventures to Diagon Alley and sometimes, Knockturn Alley. Vic had nothing left to teach him as a hunter, but he knew he could do with learning more about magic and gain more information on his enemies. Especially considering that the Dark Lord had returned two years prior. Harry knew the man wasn't dead, the article from when he was eleven did not have him fooled. A sheer baby could not defeat an evil like that, but a disciplined hunter and exceptional wizard may have a chance. He sat down at the table.

"Vic, I think it's time that I wrote to Hogwarts." He said tentatively.

Vic took an intake of breath before replying. "I think so too, Harry. I've done what I can for you as a hunter, but only they can give you the magical guidance you need to defeat this mad man."

He knew his decision was harsh on his surrogate father, but he also knew that Vic understood it more than anything and would be there to support him throughout.

"So, let's write this old fart a letter then!" Vic smiled and squeezed Harry's shoulder.

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A brown barn owl tapped lightly on the window of the castle.

'What's this?' the old man wondered as he let the owl in.

A letter addressed to him dropped on his table. After doing the necessary checks, he considered it safe to open. One couldn't be too careful during these dark times. After opening it, he read with shock. Harry Potter was alive and well and he wanted to come to Hogwarts. Why now? After hearing no response to his multiple Hogwarts letters he sent, why did the boy choose this very point in time? Was it too late for him to learn what he needed to learn to defeat Voldemort? Or was the only option to just let the boy try and lead a normal life during his stay? He couldn't deny him of his request, and so replied hastily, anxious to know what the Boy-Who-Lived has been up to these past years.