Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related affiliates thereof belong to JK Rowling. Supernatural and all related affiliates thereof belong to Eric Kripke. This is purely for entertainment purposes only, no profit is being made. In other words, please don't sue me! Recognizable quotes are from the Supernatural episode "Dead Man's Blood". I got the transcripts from TwizTv. I also don't own the songs.
AN: Here's the first chapter. First, I used the transcripts from the last few episodes of season one as the foundation for the first parts of the story. Obviously there will be differences as Harry is incorporated. Next, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed my story. I was shocked (shocked and grateful!) at the amount of the attention a simple prologue recieved. Hopefully this and future chapters live up to everyone's expectations. Also thanks to Kirallie for betaing this for me, you rock chica! She keeps all of you from suffering my horrible comma addiction.
Summary: Harry Potter has always wanted a family that cared about him, that loved him in the proper way a family should. He'd long since given up hope his dream would one day become a reality, content that the dream was enough. A startling discovery on his seventeenth birthday will change all that, sending him to America where he will meet a man and his sons no one knew existed. How far will Harry go to protect his new found family? How will the Winchesters react to a family member showing up on their doorstep just as the hunt for the demon is heating up? They're all about to learn that family is everything, no matter how messed up it is.
~*~*~
Part I: Dead Man's Blood
~*~*~
All of my memories keep you near.
In silent moments,
Imagine you'd be here.
All of my memories keep you near.
In silent whispers, silent tears.
"Memories" Within Temptation
~*~*~
October 25, 2006 – Manning, Colorado
The bar was an out of the way place, only frequented by locals or those who had already been there, its lights twinkling in the inky darkness. Several round tables were scattered around and the thick oak bar had a light sheen of alcohol that had been spilled. In the background a jukebox was playing and pool balls could be heard clinking together.
Daniel Elkins sat hunched over his journal, writing furiously. He was older, his gray hair hanging limply about his face, which sported deep lines and grooves indicative of his age and the harshness of his life.
"Mr. Elkins?...Mr. Elkins?" He glanced up at the pretty blond bartender. "Would you like another?"
The words slowly filtered in and he nodded his head. "Yeah, thanks Beth." She smiled and walked over to the other side of the bar, towards another patron.
"I though they caught the Unabomber," he joked lightly.
"Yeah, poor Mr. Elkins lives all alone up in the canyon," Beth glanced back over her shoulder before turning to the man again. "Same seat every day, going through his papers, making his little notes. He's a nice old man. He's just a nut." She set his beer down in front of him before grabbing a bottle of bourbon. "Here you go," she said as she pours him a shot. He glanced up curiously just as Beth looked toward the door, seeing a group of men walk in behind an attractive brunette. Daniel considered them as they took a seat at a table on the other side of the bar. "What'll you have?" Beth asked as she dried her hands on a towel.
The woman turned. "Jack all around, leave the bottle."
"You hungry?"
She smiled as she answered. "We have dinner plans."
Beth went to the back wall of the bar and grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels, turning back to Daniel. "Can I get you something else Mr. Elkins?" His seat was empty and his drink untouched; she glanced toward the backdoor as it slammed shut.
The cold Colorado air nipped harshly at Daniel as he quickly shut and locked the door. He set his journal down on his desk, which was already overflowing with papers. His computer was half-buried and his bulletin board wasn't visible through all the drawings and markings that covered it. Sensing another presence in the room, he turned slowly.
The woman from the bar crept slowly out of the shadows. "It's been awhile. I've gotta say, you look old," she said, her eyes glinting silver.
"What do you want?" he asked harshly.
"What do you think?" she answered. He brought a hand around his back and flipped a knife at her, embedding it in her chest. "Damn." She pulled the knife out effortlessly. Daniel hurried towards his backroom as she followed. "You can do better than that." He locked the door and barricaded it with bookshelf. He turned to a section of the wall which hid a combination-lock safe.
"C'mon, c'mon," he said as he spun the dial. Once opened he pulled out a box as the door rattled and the bookshelf shook. Inside was a Colt Revolver and five bullets; he began loading the gun as the woman continued pounding on the door. Just as he got it loaded, two men fell from his skylights and slammed him backwards, forcing him to drop the weapon. They held him against a desk as the woman crashed the door open, letting the bookshelf fall to the ground. She walked over slowly and picked up the gun that Daniel dropped, examining it carefully.
"Nice gun," she says smiling. "Wouldn't do you much good, of course." She looked at the two men with her. "Boys, we're eating in tonight." He looked at her fearfully before his screams pierced the night air.
~*~*~
Several hundred miles away in a diner sat Dean Winchester as he read a newspaper while his brother Sam surfed the web on his laptop. Sighing, he folded his newspaper and looked over at his brother. "Alright, dude. Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What do you got?"
Without even glancing up, Sam said, "Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota. Here, there's a woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived."
Dean considered it before saying, "That sounds more like That's Incredible than Twilight Zone."
"Yeah," Sam said as he looked back down at his computer.
"Hey, you know, we could, uh, we could just keep it in the east. New York, upstate. We could stop by and see Sarah again, huh? She's a cool chick, man – smoking." He whistled before continuing. "You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?" The brothers had just finished a hunt of a haunted painting. Sam and the very attractive daughter of the auction house owner who was attemping to sell the painting had gotten along verywell and exchanged a heated goodbye, which left Dean smiling.
The younger man smiled. "Yeah, maybe, someday. But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do, Dean and you know that."
Dean looked away. "Yeah, you're right. What else you got?"
"Uh, Manning, Colorado. A local man by the name of Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home."
"Elkins? I know that name," Dean commented as he tried to remember where he had heard the name.
"Doesn't ring a bell," Sam said. He continued as his brother rummaged for their father's journal. "It sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first, they said it was some sort of bear attack, and now, they found signs of robbery."
"Mm-mmm."Dean continued flipping through the pages until one page caught his eye. "Here, check it out." He handed the journal over to his brother and pointed at the contact information for a D. Elkins.
"You think it's the same Elkins?" Sam asked.
Dean responded immediately. "It's a Colorado area code."
~*~*~
Over four thousand miles away, three teenagers were huddled in a dark depressing house, scattered about the musky library. Harry was pacing back and forth, wearing a hole in the already threadbare carpet while his friend Ron was lying on his back on the couch, throwing a quaffle in the air and catching it, and their mutual friend Hermione was pouring over an old book that had long ago lost its cover and title.
Slamming the book shut, she turned to her friend. "Are you sure there's nothing else your grandmother wrote about your uncle?"
Sighing, he flopped onto the couch beside Ron. "No, only what's in the journal. She didn't even tell her own husband, let alone her children. When she died, he wasn't even in Kansas anymore and it's not like he left her a forwarding address."
"Well, every spell I've found so far to find him requires more information than we've got."
"Let's take a break, we've been at this for months," Ron commented sitting up. It was true. When Harry first found out about John on his seventeenth birthday he had tried to research on his own but his friends quickly caught on that he was hiding something from them. Hermione was the first to figure out he was searching for someone and after offering to help he finally let them in on his secret. They were the only two besides him who knew of his uncle; Harry didn't want his family to be targeted by any Death Eaters that still hadn't been captured yet.
Ron surprisingly was the one who came up with the idea of searching muggle records for him and using the internet they found that John Winchester was married and had two children, both boys. His wife Mary had died in a house fire and that's when the trail went cold. He would pop up occasionally but he wasn't in any one place for long. Harry decided to try using magic to find him but even this was proving futile.
Harry nodded his head dejectedly, knowing his friend was right. They headed for the kitchen and started making lunch, sitting mostly in silence.
"Maybe they're blond," Ron started.
Both Harry and Hermione looked up thoughtfully. "Merlin, I hope not. Can you imagine more cousins like Dudley?" After finding out he had more cousins, Harry began to wonder about them, what they looked like, what they did, what they were like, anything. His friends started in on the game too.
"Well, we know Samuel's smart to get into Stanford, so he's obviously not at all like Dudley, sounds more like your mum," Hermione reasoned as she brought three egg sandwichs to the table. Ron grabbed a sandwich and took a bite that consisted of half of it.
"Yeah, but Dean didn't go to university and his grades weren't that good in school. He could be the Dudley," Ron countered, spewing egg and breadcrumbs across the table. Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't comment, having long since given up on Ron's eating habits; some things just can't be changed.
"But we still have to consider that John was a marine, maybe they're all military," Harry added sensing Hermione's discomfort. Catching her eye, he took a reasonable bite and smiled. "And since we couldn't find any records, maybe they're like special ops, or something."
They sat contemplating what it would be like for Harry's cousins to be in the SBS. He imagined them wearing black dive suits, with machetes attached to their legs and numerous attachments on their belts, scaling the side of a cliff on a dangerous mission to rescue a diplomat or to blow up an evil dictator. He could never see their faces in his daydreams.
Once when he told Hermione and Ron about his daydream of Samuel and Dean as lawyers after finding out Samuel was doing prelaw, Hermione burst into laughter. She said he watched too much Law and Order. He never told them about his daydreams after that; she'd probably say they sounded more like James Bond than his cousins.
"Maybe they're redheads," Ron began again swallowing the last of his sandwich and glanced up at his friends' identical smirks. "What?"
~*~*~
Later that evening, Sam and Dean arrived at Daniel's cabin in Colorado. Letting their flashlights precede them into the house, they easily entered the cabin after a few seconds of picking the lock. They began to look around taking in the papers on the walls and the clutter on the floor.
"Looks like the maid didn't come today," Dean commented from Daniel's office. Sam crouched down and noticed small granules on the carpet.
"Hey, there's salt over here, right inside the door."
"You mean, like, protection-against-demons salt, or, uh, 'Oops, I spilled the popcorn' salt?" He called back to his brother as he looked through a journal on the desk.
"It's clearly a ring. You think this guy, Elkins, was a player?" Sam called.
"Definitely." The brunette entered behind his brother and glanced over his shoulder at the journal in his hands.
"That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's."
"Yeah, except this dates back to the sixties," Dean commented. They moved on to the backroom and took in the overturned furniture and broken glass from the skylight.
"Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one," Sam said.
"Looks like he put a hell of a fight too," Dean added.
"Yeah." They edged closer to the desk taking care where they put their feet. Sam headed behind the desk, picking up items and looking at them for clues as to what might have happened here. Dean saw a box lying open on the floor and tipped it up with his foot, shining the flashlight into it. He considered it for a second, counting thirteen slots but no gun or bullets. To the side, he saw scratches in the floor and bent down for a closer look. "You got something?" Sam asked, glancing up from the papers in his hand at his brother's silence.
"I don't know," Dean said running his hand over the scratches. "Just some scratches in the floor."
Sam came around the side of the desk and shined the light on the floor. "Death throes maybe?"
"Yeah, maybe." Dean searched for something before grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil off the desk. Placing the paper over top the scratches, he shaded with the pencil before pulling up the paper. He looked at it for a second before handing it to his brother. "Or a message. Look familiar?"
Sam shined his light on the paper in his hand. "Three letters, six digits – the location and combination of a post office box."
"Just the way Dad does it," Dean said.
Breaking into the post office should not have been that easy. After locating the correct box and putting in the combination, Dean pulled out a single letter. His eyebrows shot up and he showed it to his brother who looked equally as shocked as seeing it.
"J.W. – You think? John Winchester?" Back in the car, Sam and Dean were studying the outside of the envelop. Dean held it as though it was something to be cherished, as though it held the secrets of his father.
"I don't know, should we open it?" Before either could respond, a loud knocking sounded against Dean's window. Jumping, he turned, sticking his hand with the letter, in his coat about to pull a gun. "Dad?"
He glanced at his younger brother as his father climbed into the backseat of the Impala. "Dad, what are you doing here, are you alright?" Sam asked worriedly.
John nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay. Look, I read the news about Daniel. I got here as fast as I could, I saw you two up at his place."
Sam shook his head, confused. "Why didn't you come in, Dad?"
John looked pointedly at his youngest son. "You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed by anyone, or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks by the way."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, well, we learned from the best."
"Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?" Sam asked, incredulously. John nodded again.
"Yeah. He was...he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting."
"Well, you never mentioned him to us."
John looked down and sighed. "We had, uh, we had a kind of falling out. I haven't seen him in years." He indicated the letter in Dean's hands. "I should look at that." John opened the letter and started reading, "If you're reading this, I'm already dead...That son of a bitch."
Dean leaned forward, interested. "What is it?"
"He had it the whole time."
"Dad, what?" Sam asked.
"When you searched the place, did you see a gun? An antique – A Colt Revolver, did you see it?" He questioned them, quickly.
Dean tried to answer him just as quickly. "Uh, there was an old case but it was empty."
"They have it," John said resignedly.
"You mean, whatever killed Elkins?" Dean asked as John began to get out of the car.
"We've got to pick up the trail."
"Wait, you want us to come with you?" Sam asked his father through the open window.
John leaned forward. "If Elkins was telling the truth, we got to find this gun."
Sam tried again. "The gun, why?"
Frustrated, John answered sharply. "Because it's important that's why."
"Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet."
"They were what Daniel Elkins hunted best – vampires."
Dean turned to his dad, confused. "Vampires? I thought there was no such thing."
"You never mentioned them before, Dad," Sam added.
"I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out." John sighed heavily. "I was wrong. Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust—that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late."
~*~*~
The crescent moon showed high in the night sky as Harry looked out at the silent London street. They had long since stopped for the day; Hermione and Ron had fallen asleep on the couch curled into each other. Harry had tried to continue but he was no closer to finding his uncle than when he had started. Staring out at the night sky, he began to wonder what he was doing right then, was he okay, was he happy, did he know he had a nephew who was desperately searching for him?
Harry turned away from the window and sat at the table, pulling out his mother's journal as he did so. Harry had shared everything with his friend but not this. This was his and his alone. He had been reading it for the past three months since his aunt had given it to him. Harry learned more about his mum in those months than he ever had in his life. He knew she liked broccoli but not peas; she preferred roses to lilies; her favorite subject was not charms but actually arithemancy; she wanted to be a ballerina when she grew up; her sister was her best friend and she hated that they fought.
Tonight, Harry read until his eyes became scratchy and he couldn't see anymore. Harry carefully stowed the journal in his backpack and shuffled towards the big armchair by the couch, clumping into it tiredly. It jarred the bookshelf slightly and a book fell with a loud thump.
Harry glanced toward it, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to return it to the shelf. He decided he should probably pick it up or he might never know where to return it to in the morning. Harry picked it up and started to put it away when he noticed a thin book had been shoved into the bigger book in his hand.
Pulling it out, he saw that it was a journal of some sort. He opened it to the first page and immediately realized it was a lot thicker than he had originally thought. Orion Arcturus Black, he read. It was Sirius' father's journal. Opening to a random page in the middle, he saw what appeared to be a list of activities on specific dates. As he read closer, Harry realized Orion was keeping tabs on his eldest son.
15 October, 1987
~Prank was successful
~Did well on transfiguration exam
~Received detention for insulting S. Snape
~Exchanged words with Reggie
16 October, 1987
~Asked out M. Fellows
~Received satisfactory grade for potions essay
~Received detention for insulting L. Malfoy
Confused as to how Orion was able to do this without his son or his wife finding out, Harry turned to the beginning of the journal, which was dated the day Sirius ran away from home.
3 July, 1986
Sirius ran away today. Burgia thinks he'll return but I know better. He's gone for good. I shall never be his father again. I know he'll never let me back in his life but hopefully I can still see my son's life. I found a spell in the library tonight, just after everyone had gone to bed. I can find anyone in my blood family so long as they are still alive. It seemed this old house knew what I wanted and gave it to me.
Harry stopped reading. He had found it. How to find his uncle and it had been here the whole time. Flipping a few pages, he saw that Orion had written down ingredients to create a potion that when painted on a mirror forms a window to watch that person. If one were to hold the mirror while apparating, they will apparate to that person. Earmarking the page, he placed the journal on the end table beside his chair and immediately fell into a restful sleep. He was finally going to be able to find his uncle.
