It wasn't odd for the Sheriff to arrive home to an empty house.

Like when Stiles turned eleven he'd been accepted to a boarding school in Massachusetts. As much as it broke him to be away from his son, he needed it. It made him feel horrible to say or even think, but he didn't do all too well with Claudia's passing. He drank more than he should have, he knew that. Stiles didn't need to see him like that. And Stiles also wasn't the easiest kid to handle. He had too much energy, too much curiosity, and a lot of questions.

Stiles seemed to enjoy his time at his school as well. Whenever he called and wrote it was always with excitement and wonder. It made him happy that his son was happy. It also gave him a pang of hurt that his son did so well without him. But it was for the best. The school was one of the best private schools in the country. Something he never would have been able to afford on his own, but Stiles's mind was apparently perfect for it.

When he got kicked out at fourteen for getting in trouble in a sister school in England, the Sheriff saw how utterly devastated Stiles was. He had stayed in touch with Scott as best as he could. They were inseparable during vacations and breaks, but most of Stiles's friends were in that school. His life had been at that school. Sure it was only four years, but living there for that long had made an impact...and it seemed since he was expelled anyone he might have met lost all contact with him. Stiles didn't like talking about it but he's seen the type before. He would pull extra shifts and work late into the night so he could buy Stiles brand name clothing and up to date technology and the latest things. He wanted Stiles to not feel like the outcast he must have been surrounded by a bunch of rich families who cared for status and class. When Stiles came back and was reintroduced to his life in Beacon Hills, he immediately clashed with Jackson Whittemore and the Sheriff couldn't help but wonder how many other Jackson's did his son have.

He sighed as he removed his policeman's belt and set it on the kitchen table. Looking at the fridge he didn't see any note to tell him anything. There was a chance Stiles was merely at practice or playing video games at Scott's.

Or he could be off chasing some sort of criminal lead that was actually the latest supernatural nut case.

He sighed again as he tiredly rubbed at his eyes.

'knock knock knock'

The Sheriff turned his attention to the door.

'Who could that be?' He thought to himself.

He didn't have anyone coming over as far as he knew. Stiles had a key, and not to mention various of other questionably legal methods of getting in without one.

When he opened the door it was to see an early to mid 30's guy in a nice suit with dark hair, blue eyes, and leaning on an umbrella. He sort of reminded the Sheriff of Neal Caffrey from White Collar. He even had the charming grin to match.

"Mr. Stilinski I presume?"

"Yes. May I help you?" The Sheriff asked.

"I'm sure you don't remember me but I was one of Stiles's professors from his school back in Massachusetts. I'm Nicolas Winters." Mr. Winters introduced himself as he extended his hand.

The Sheriff shook it, mentally chuckling at the name. But then he frowned at the sudden appearance. After Stiles was expelled they didn't hear from the school anymore. Hell, he couldn't even remember what it was called. "It's been a few years-"

"Three." Mr. Winters stated.

"Right. We haven't heard from you since Stiles came back. I assumed whatever happened overseas was over and done with." He was the Sheriff and Stiles had the way to get on people's nerves. But it wasn't always unfounded. He knew how to use his voice and tone to make statements subtly. He never knew what it was exactly that Stiles did, but he was promised no legal action would be taken against him. He hoped it would continue to remain as such.

"It is." Mr. Winters was quick to reassure him. "I am here to talk to you about Stiles, but I can assure you it is nothing bad. So...may I come in?" Mr. Winters asked as he motioned inside.

"Right...of course. Please, come in." The Sheriff said and allowed Mr. Winters inside. Before he closed the door he looked down the block to see if he could spot his son's Blue Jeep. Then he remembered his Jeep was in the shop. He closed the door with another sigh. His instincts were sharp. They had to be to keep up with Stiles. Right now they were telling him that today was going to be a long day.


Stiles felt Viktor's arms twist away from him and re-doubled his grip: the next thing he knew everything went black; he was pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his ear-drums were being pushed deeper into his skull.

Apparition, Stiles decided, was the worst way to travel. Convenient, but totally horrible.

Once they landed he pushed himself away from Viktor and leaned against a wall while his hand supported him and the other held on to his stomach. He was sure said stomach was still trying to figure out its original position.

"Are you alright?" Viktor asked next to him.

He was dry heaving and eventually, the nauseating feeling went away. He stood up straight and took a few deep breaths. "Not really, but I have questions so I'll push the feeling of being forced through a very tight tube away until a more convenient time."

Viktor chuckled, "You haff not lost your humor. I am glad."

Stiles smiled up at Viktor. He looked well. A bit older, a bit more tired in the same way his dad did after a rather difficult case. Stiles wanted to ask about his career but he remembered how Viktor hated talking about it then when Stiles knew he was still playing. Stiles learned in his second year at Salem that sports were relatively the same in both the Magical and Muggle World in some aspects. Miss a little, miss a lot. Viktor might have been the hotshot back when Stiles was 14, it may not be the case now that Stiles was 17 and hadn't had any access to the magical world in all that time.

"There are a lot of things that can be stripped away from me, Viktor. Sarcasm and snark aren't some of those things."

"Let's be on our vay, shall ve?" Viktor asked as he nudged his way down the street.

Stiles nodded and began to follow. A few steps later he asked, "Where are we?"

"Diagon Alley. Ve'll be heading to the Leaky Cauldron to meet the others."

"Others?" Stiles echoed.

"Da," Viktor replied in Bulgarian. Stiles remembered trying to learn it while he taught Viktor about Muggle things. He only learned the very basics. So he remembered how to say 'yes'. "I am not sure who vill all be there tonight, but I know Harry vill be there to meet you. His guardians Lupin and Black too, I think. Though Black will most likely be in form of dog."

"Look! I think it's him!" "You think? He's kinda far."

"Uh...why?" Stiles asked as he looked around. Maybe Viktor's Quidditch career was still going well.

"Merlin's beard! I think it is him!" "And he's with Viktor Krum!"

That made Stiles pause. But before Viktor could answer his question about Harry's guardian being in dog form or if there was someone else nearby to be seen with him, Stiles was suddenly having his hand shaken.

"It is an honor to meet you!" a random wizard in a green robe said happily while shaking Stiles's hand. He was gone in a blink. Only to be replaced by a woman in black and purple robes and a pointy hat. She grabbed his hands and gave them a squeeze, "Oh my word! I can't believe my luck! Thank you so much!" and again she was gone, just like the wizard. Next came a little boy holding up a quill while he held a book under his armpit and was digging into his shoulder bag. "Can I have your autograph? Please? Just uh...lemme find my ink...bugger, where is it?" he hissed to himself. Then he let out an 'ah-ha!' as he took out the small inkwell and held out everything for Stiles.

Stiles's eyes were widened and his heart was racing. He looked over to Viktor for help. The message was seemingly clear. Viktor rested his hand on Stiles's shoulder and then opened the inkwell the boy held out and dipped the quill before passing it over to Stiles. He then asked the boy, "Vhere vould you like him to sign?"

The boy's eyes widened as he gaped like a fish, "You're Viktor Krum! Wow! No one is gonna believe this! Can I get your autograph too? Oh and here please!" he said excitedly as he opened his book.

Viktor nudged Stiles out of his stupor and Stiles dumbly just signed his name on the page. Passing over the quill, Viktor did the same and they left as the little boy ran to his parents with a smile so wide Stiles's cheeks hurt! Viktor grabbed his arm and began to rush him through the streets. Stiles didn't argue. He was very confused though.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Vell...thas as good as any place to start, eh?" Viktor inquired with a chuckle as the Leaky Cauldron came into view at the end of the street.


"So...where exactly did Stiles meet his deliciously handsome Bulgarian boyfriend?" Erica asked Scott with that wicked grin of hers and mischief filled eyes.

"He is not Stiles's boyfriend!" Derek hissed. Then with an unsure pause, he turned his scowl to Scott. "Is he?"

Scott looked between the Alpha and the two blonds with a very confused expression. He'd made it home from Lacrosse practice then hopped into the shower. Though he'd taken a brief one at school, he had a date later with Allison and wanted to smell better. In the meantime, he made himself a sandwich and was beginning to work on some school work when the trio had shown up.

He barely managed to unlock the door before Derek opened it and marched right in. Derek smelled like anger and worry, which made Scott afraid and worried. Isaac and Erica were also worried but were trying to hide it. Erica though had amusement in her which only confused Scott more. They cornered him in his living room and then Erica asked him that question.

Which didn't make sense to him at all!

"Uh...what?" Scott demanded, voice higher than normal, a bit scandalized and very confused.

Erica gave a dramatic sigh before taking a seat next to Scott and resting her hand on his thigh. Which he immediately slapped away and glared at her. She feigned innocence before continuing. "We were just dropping Stiles off, the good friends that we are, when we saw Mr. Tall, Mysterious, and Handsome waiting for lil ole Stiles."

Derek growled and glared at Erica before turning to look at Scott expectantly.

"Stiles said he was a friend and Bulgarian. Dude was like strong and fierce looking." Isaac nodded.

Scott tilted his head before shrugging. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"You're Stiles's best friend. Don't you know who all his other friends are?" Derek demanded.

"Not really..." Scott replied while scratching the back of his head.

"What do you mean, Scott?" Derek was quickly losing his patience. Every second he was here trying to get any sort of information from Scott, which wasn't much or fast enough, Stiles was god knows where with that...that...brute!

"Before high school, Stiles used to go to a privet boarding school in Massachusetts. From like...the age eleven. The Sheriff didn't always have money to bring Stiles home for the holidays like Christmas or Spring break so...yeah," Scott shrugged as he looked away. Stiles always reassured him that he was his best friend but he never liked to talk about his school life, so Scott never knew if that was really true. Made him feel jealous sometimes. "I don't know all of Stiles's friends," he muttered disdainfully.

"Scott, this guy was magic!" Derek hissed. He then looked around as he tried to look for the right words to describe what he saw. "He...he..."

"He grabbed Stiles nice and tight and held him close and then poof. Gone without a trace." Erica explained, 'all-knowing-smirk' firmly in place.

While Derek glared at her Isaac continued to explain their findings. "We tried to look for a trace of the guy's scent, but nothing. Other than the yard and inside the house where he stood with Stiles...there was no scent to follow. It was like he arrived like he left...just..."

"Poof?" Scott asked with a frown. "And Stiles is gone?"

"We tried contacting him but his phone keeps going to voicemail. No replies on texting or Facebook post either." Isaac replied.

"How do we find someone who can teleport?" Scott asked as he looked at Derek's pack.

They all looked at each other and the silence reigned for a very long time.

"If we hurry, I think we can catch Deaton before he closes the clinic," Scott said getting up and grabbing his jacket.

The four wolves quickly left the McCall residence and made way to the vet clinic.


"Stiles!"

He heard them before he saw them. In a blink, he was being crushed in a hug by none other than Harry Potter himself. Once Stiles got his breath back he returned the hug with as much enthusiasm. Just like when he first saw Viktor, his eyes couldn't help but weld up with tears. Harry had been an actual friend. They bonded through small things like his gratitude for hooking him up with Cho for the ball, for helping him during the tournament, for having his back when everyone else was buying the rumors instead of the truth...and hey, fighting bad guys, facing near death, and taking a knife for someone is quite the bonding experience. Who knew?

Harry held him at arm's length and got a good view of Stiles. Stiles in hand got a good view of Harry too. His hair was still as untameable as it had been during the tournament and it made him smile. He couldn't help but smirk at seeing that even though they were both taller now, Stiles grew an inch or two taller than Harry. The British wizard caught the smirk and nudged Stiles shoulder with his with a playful glare.

"Ah, so this is the infamous Stiles I've heard so much about."

Stiles turned to look at the speaker. The man was a tall, well-built, darkly handsome with fair skin, long, lustrous black hair, striking grey eyes. He seemed to carry an air of "casual elegance" if there were such a thing. But there was a grin on his lips and eyes that shined with mischief Stiles often saw in his own reflection. Whoever this man was, Stiles sorta liked him already.

"Padfoot!" Harry cried. "You can't be out here like this!"

"Relax Harry. My name is nearly cleared. Soon, all this hiding will be behind me." The man waved a dismissive hand.

"Nearly is not yet done. I agree with Harry. We had an agreement." A man behind him came into view. He had dirty blond hair, nearly brown, was tall and thin with scars on his face. He looked calm but tired.

"You're both worrying for naught. This place called for a meeting. Anyone who isn't already aware of presence isn't here." The man- Padfoot- explained.

"If he's a wrongly accused fugitive, I'm cool with it. Housed a few of them in my house back home..." Stiles chimed in. When everyone turned to look at him and the silence dragged on he hurried to explain. "Uh, he turned out to be a werewolf and I wrongly accused him of murder cos I found the corpse of his sister, well half of the corpse, buried outside his house. Jump the gun on that one, but he had this whole killer murdering vibe, so you can't really blame me. Wasn't him though, so I made it up to him by clearing his name and letting him hide out in my house...which was either really brave or really stupid since my dad's the sheriff and there were hunters after him." When he got more confused stares he remembered that not everyone knew the positions Muggles had. "Oh uh...A sheriff is like...the lead Auror...? The one everyone answers to..."

"You hid a werewolf in your house while hunters were looking for him?" Padfoot asked, looking amused and like...he approved. It made Stiles kinda preen.

He nodded. "Yeah well...my best friend had just bitten and he was the only one with actual answers. And he was innocent. Even if he was a total dick that enjoyed thrashing me against a wall, he was still innocent."

And like that, it seemed the two men in front of him totally accepted him with how they were looking at him. An awe sort of look that held pride. It reminded him of his da- "Holy crap! My dad doesn't know I'm here!"

"Relax Mr. Stilinski. Someone has been sent to inform your father...and to give him back his memories." Albus Dumbledore said as he stepped through one of the doors.

Stiles' eyes widened in shock and his brain began to catch up with everything. And another first in years. His scar began to burn. He clenched his fist together and bit his lip to keep from groaning out loud.

"Stiles?" Harry asked in panic and when he looked around he noticed that everyone was looking at his neck. His hand immediately flew to cover it.

"My...my wand..." Stiles didn't know what he wanted to say. He didn't really trust himself to speak but everyone was looking at him expectantly. Years of holding onto the hatred and anger of what happened finally surfaced and he couldn't hold back anymore. Ever since he first heard of the possibility of going to Hogwarts, he read up on their English sister school. Before that he knew about the great and mighty Albus Dumbledore. Someone who was made to lead and be looked up to. And Stiles did. More than that, he trusted the man to do good. But that good image of Dumbledore slowly shattered to pieces as Harry was obviously being targeted and Dumbledore acted like his hands were tied. Stiles was related to a man who held a lot of power with the law, and he had to see what his dad was willing to do for the sake of someone's safety and innocence. He fought tooth and nail for a lot of people over the years and it was what Dumbledore should have done. From what Stiles heard, the older wizard had the power and influence to have been allowed to keep his wand. Or some sort of agreement. But he was brushed off. Stiles knew he had saved lives that day and what was it he got?

"My wand was snapped! I was exiled! I didn't get a chance to say goodbye or stay in touch with my friends from either school and get dumped into the Muggle world forced to live on like part of me never existed! My mother died and the only part of her I had that made me feel like I was connected to her was ripped away from me and out of nowhere you just bring me back? There had better be a damn good reason for it!" Stiles's hand began to flair around too as he continued his rant. "People were coming up to me and thanking me. I sighed a kid's book and he was over the fucking moon! What the hell is going on?" Stiles demanded.

Looking around there was a varying of expressions. The guy with scars was avoiding eye contact, Padfoot was smirking smugly at him with this damn pride in his eyes that Stiles couldn't fathom, Dumbledore's eyes were steely as they pierced into him, and Harry's and Viktor's looks were just pleading with a hint of apologetic.

"Let's start off where you left off, shall we?" Dumbledore asked. When Stiles silently demanded further explanation Dumbledore said, "Let's revisit the night of the third task and explain what happened from there."


"Magic?" The Sheriff asked as he rubbed his temple.

His memories were back. He remembered handing Stiles his letter from Salem Institute when he was eleven and being as happy and proud as he knew Claudia would have been. He remembered going with him to buy his supplies and talking him out of getting a pet. Sure he knew Stiles really, really, really wanted one...but he eventually managed to convince Stiles to wait until he was a bit older. When Stiles turned thirteen and there had been an incident with someone's cat(thankfully not at Stiles's hand, just in his class) he said he was alright not having the responsibility.

He remembered letters arriving just about every day with a new tale from his son who was seemingly a magical prodigy. Things he couldn't believe were real, yet complete plausible shenanigans Stiles could totally find himself in.

"It is a lot to take in. And given what happened, I can understand the confusion. Would you like me to fetch some sort of medicine or water?" Mr. Winters asked.

The Sheriff shook his head. "Trust me, this isn't all that...alarming. What is though, why now? Maybe my definition of exile has changed from what it was, but doesn't it mean something along of the lines of 'never to return'?"

Mr. Winters straightened his posture and cleared his throat before he began to speak. "I was there that year we went to Hogwarts. My family comes from a long line of Seers. We're typically the ones asked to go on trips like those as...cheats. To try and stop anything...troubling from happening. And from a political standpoint, to make sure no matter what Salem Institute comes out looking like number one. You can imagine how very angry both my bosses and my family was when they learned of what happened."

"What exactly happened? How did my son get the scar on the front?" Once his memories were back, it was like he could remember to...remember things he used to choose to ignore. After the attack from the demonic fox who had possessed his son after being shocked, Stiles had a lightning type scar on his back. But now he remembered another, nearly matching scar on the front of his body too, coming from the heart. That one was older though, the scar was more faded.

"Stiles was my favorite student. I saw this...spark, in him. Soon after his first year I always waved him off with a 'be clever' instead of 'be good'. Witches and Spark's are a bit different, but it's not something most look into. It's hard to tell when someone is a Spark. Their power is more natural... rawer and very closely connected to emotions. After the events that happened, I fought for him. I made plenty of cases. Many people asked me and my family how no one saw this coming. Do you know what I tell them, Mr. Stilinski?" The Sheriff shook his head, no. "We didn't see what was going to happen because if we had, we would have tried to prevent it. But there are some things on this earth that are just meant to be."

"I...I'm still very confused." The Sheriff admitted.

Mr. Winters chuckled. "I apologize for being a bit dramatic, but this story...it's a good one. And because I did my best to help Stiles, I uncovered all sources of truth. Something I'm afraid not all the public is privy to. Did you know fire was a way of purification? And that they call lightning the cold-blooded fire?" Mr. Winters gave a dismissive hand. "It's seemingly unimportant I know, but it's just part of the facts. Let's begin with a tale the last generation grew up knowing. See...it was believed that seventeen years ago Harry Potter defeated one of the darkest Wizards to ever walk the planet. That was mostly true."

The Sheriff actually remembered this story. Stiles liked to let his letters get out of hand. Sometimes he seemed to have confused his homework for his letters so the Sheriff sometimes got essays about different magical topics. He kept them, read them, remembered them.

"There are parts of the world that aren't as...up to date as we are. We actually have classes that explain and teach modern Muggle technology and currencies since most of our students are more so Muggleborn or Half-Bloods." At the look of confusion, Mr. Winters elaborated. "A lot of those who attended Hogwarts are Purebloods. Rich or poor, they had far stricter rules about interfering with Muggles. Eventually, the gap was too much and they do struggle. But our school was built in the Colony times. There are families, Founding families who still have heirs attending our school, but we have different spikes in attendance of blood status. Most Purebloods remained in the motherland. And we cannot forget that our magic system does in a way reflect on the social norms of our Muggle counterpart. We, like the Founding Fathers of our country, believed in our freedom very much, all while ironically having slaves and looking down at those who were different. Hypocritically really. But in time we found our way and accepted those who were Native America and African American with long lines of magical blood in them who wished to join our school. Our Pureblood, Half-Blood, Muggleborn pool ranges and there is more acceptance since we live in a democracy and unlike some Pureblood families who have attended Hogwarts that are of Noble families."

"What does that have to do with Stiles, exactly?" The Sheriff asked.

"There was a system that needed to be upheld, Mr. Stilinski. As you may know what was right back then, isn't all that right now. Evolution and progress are a part of life, but it's very hard to hear the truth that would rock the world and it's a very core foundation. You see...Voldemort wasn't gone. Not completely. He did horrible acts of dark magic in a foolish attempt to become immortal. Mr. Potter was always at the center of that. The poor boy nearly went insane that year. He tried to speak up, but who would listen? There had been 'peace' and now this boy, their hero, claimed that danger was around the corner."

"Let me guess...dirty politics followed?" The Sheriff asked with a frown. He was no stranger to dirty politics and he hated it.

"I'm afraid so. But then enter Stiles and the game changes."

"How so?" The Sheriff nearly dreaded asking. But he also needed to know.

"While a lot of the population, teachers, and students, fell into fits of jealousy and doubt and distrust, Stiles stood by Harry. He got into the faces of bullies and challenged them with and without magic. He made it so Mr. Potter didn't feel alone and they gained a level of bond that was hard to ignore. You could practically feel it." Mr. Winters' smile of pride faltered a bit as he sighed. "One of my students later told me that Stiles told them about visions he was having. Psychic dreams. But they played it off as Stiles's time at Hogwarts almost being up and didn't tell me about it."

"Would you have believed Stiles?" The Sheriff asked.

It...was a thing between them. With everything that went on, everyone wanting to keep everyone they loved safe and willing to lie to do that, believing in someone isn't easy. Stiles and he had a few rough waters to ride through while he tried to keep all this werewolf business from him.

"Yes. Stiles has his quirks but I've learned from the first few months of having him in my class that when he has something he wishes to confide in you, it's important. Stiles is one of those people who can say so much without saying anything. To those that aren't cultivated, a lesser man would call them stupid. But when you're a clever young man who wants to pick out who is worth sharing his secrets to, it's a clever device. He says things...important things every so often while always keeping in mind people's reactions. Sometimes I thought Stiles was too clever for his own good."

The Sheriff grinned at that. "It's his curiosity that gets him into trouble."

Mr. Winters chuckled. "Oh, don't I know it."

"What happened with these dreams?" The Sheriff asked.

Mr. Winters sighed. "Stiles...took matters into his own hands. See, that year was the year of the Tri-Wizard-Tournament. Its rules are ancient and very hard, if not impossible to change. Someone was trying to kill Mr. Potter by placing his name in the goblet and making him part of the tournament even though Hogwarts already had a representative who was of age. The most that could be done was help the students survive..."

"Why does that sound really ominous?"

"Because...magic, as wonderful and brilliant as it can be, has it's darker side. The tournament was an attempt to raise Voldemort into a body. He needed blood from Mr. Potter as part of a ritual."

The Sheriff groaned as he rubbed his temple. "Stiles...he intervened didn't he?"

Mr. Winters nodded. "It's still unclear of what truly happened but Stiles's Spark mixed with Mr. Potter's own naturally raw magic. Stiles has a scar on his palm which acts as a release point which is needed when lightning strikes someone." When the Sheriff's eyes widened, Mr. Winters raised a hand to let him continue. "The night Mr. Potter defeated Voldemort as an infant, it was his mother's love that saved him. His mother unknowingly placing a very powerful protective charm on him as she sacrificed herself for her child. But Voldemort had all intentions of killing Mr. Potter and securing his future. Though the curse failed, he left part of his soul in Mr. Potter. When Stiles stood between Mr. Potter and Voldemort's servant, taking the knife instead...it's theorized that Mr. Potter and Stiles were touching, and the spark from Lily Potter's protection caused by love, and a similar love magic placed on Stiles by his own mother who passed and loved him dearly...it...it..." Mr. Winters tried to find the words to express it. He shook his head fondly and grinned. "It was like out of a fairy tale...the good kind. Love and light shone bright and banished any darkness."

But then a frown replaced Mr. Winters' smile. "Stiles received the short end of the stick. Mr. Potter tried to tell anyone who would listen that it'd been Voldemort and his followers, but without evidence, he went unheard. No one wanted to believe and the only other person who would try as hard as Mr. Potter to make a claim was-"

"Stiles." The Sheriff supplied.

Nodding, Mr. Winters continued. "It was decided that Stiles have his wand broken and be sent home...it was heartbreaking."

The Sheriff scoffed coldly. "I think my son's heart might have broken just a bit more."

"No one is denying that." Mr. Winters replied.

"So where is he now?" The Sheriff demanded.

"A year after, Voldemort tried rising again. He ordered his followers to break into the Ministry of Magic. He too went but in one of his...more desperate attempts of possession. His plan included luring Mr. Potter to him, but whatever happened that night with Stiles, it seemed like any connection between Mr. Potter and Voldemort was cut. Voldemort needed a new way to acquire a physical body now that his connection with his one true rival and enemy was severed. The Ministry having many chambers of magical practices that aren't known by all...there was a massacre that night of anyone working there that could be found. It was horrible. But this time around there were too many witnesses, Ministry officials at that, who witnessed. Though some claimed that they saw Voldemort while others couldn't be sure, the fact remained...someone was leading his Death Eaters."

"You can kill a man, but not an idea." The Sheriff replied solemnly.

Mr. Winters gave a firm nod.

"Soon after that, the press got hold of the story and I'm sure you can imagine what happened next. There was chaos and panic and people demanding answers. Stiles really made an impact on Mr. Potter's life and he began to question things he didn't think were worth questioning before. He understood the shift in his position. He wasn't in the center of things, but he'd been a poster boy against Voldemort for so long, he was used as a way to calm the people. He demanded to know everything. His guardians stood by him and together with their stubbornness, cleverness, and...the ever dominating trait of disregarding rules, they clued together pieces they would never have known otherwise. They learned how Voldemort was still 'alive'. And what needed to be done to kill him for sure. It was a grueling process, but they managed it after a while."

The Sheriff frowned, "If that matter is resolved, how is Stiles involved?"

"As you can imagine he might have popped up into conversation during a meeting or two. On either side. Yes, Voldemort was taken care of, as were most of his followers. But not all. Some, like war criminal Fenrir Greyback, remain at large and pose a huge threat."

"How?"

"He's a wizard who is also a werewolf. He was high ranking in Voldemorts army. Feared for his power and temper. When Voldemort fell, those who ran and managed to escape are thought to have gone and beg Greyback for the bite. Usually, Greyback's M.O. is to bite them young. Begin a loyalty from an age where he can manipulate them into perfect weapons, but he wouldn't be opposed to creating more werewolves for the sake of creating panic and chaos and giving him and his pack more coverage."

The Sheriff's blood ran cold as he listened. It was terrifying finding out what was really out there and that his son was in the midst of all that. Remembering how far Stiles used to be with magic involved was just as terrifying. But now he was even farther and in the midst of something this huge. This wasn't some poor, misguided teenager thrust into a world of unknown supernatural. It was...it was war and politics mixed with supernatural and his son was too damn far.

"Where is he?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Safe. He's consulting."

"I want him back!"

"I'm afraid that's not up to you, Mr. Stilinski." Mr. Winters stated as he reached into his pocket.

Passing over a letter, the Sheriff snatched it and tore it open.

"You said he wasn't guilty! That he was consulting! These are extradition papers!"

"Yes. I'm afraid that the English Government will be taking Stiles into custody until a deal can be made. I assure you, Mr. Stilinski...Stiles will return. I'll make sure of it. But before he does, his people needed him once more."


"So...I get the 'Harry Potter' status, huh?" Stiles asked cheekily as he nudged Harry's shoulder with his own.

They were in one of the bedrooms upstairs after he was told what had happened since his banishment. Though Stiles felt there was still more to be told. He was just given the bigger picture, he was sure the smaller details would come later. He'd make sure of it. But for now, he would bask in the fact that he was with some old friends. Viktor had to leave and report back to...someone. He promised to visit as soon as he could.

"Well, I hope it's as brilliant as it was when I first experienced it. My name has been through the mud the last few years, so maybe you should hope for something else. Something new entirely." Harry replied.

"How do people even know me?" Stiles asked incredulously confused.

"I'm not sure how, but you purified me of Voldemort. In a way, you gave me an out. I could go back to school and just...be Harry. But I couldn't. If anything I owed it to you. I was a face the people knew and trusted against the fight with Voldemort. I was prettified and dressed up and put on display to placate the masses. They'd written speeches for me that gave people hope, brought up the Ministry and the DA and tried to make light of what had been done. It brought me back to my fourth year when I was being pressured by Rita Skeeter and everyone else. People demanding answers to problems that weren't mine, people expecting too much and not really willing to give the same in return. So I did what I thought you'd do."

Stiles laughed and shook his head, "I bet that blew up in your face."

Harry laughed and gave a nod. "A bit. But it was the truth and I didn't feel the need to hide anymore. I told them the truth about my godfather, Sirius being wrongly imprisoned. I told them point blank that people were being murdered in Voldemorts name, whether they wanted to believe he was back or not. That the reason he wasn't so powerful yet was because you, Stiles Stilinski, American Wizard risked it all for us..."

"You made me out to be a hero," Stiles said quietly.

"It's a heavy burden to bear. I thought we could share. Hold each other up." Harry replied just as quietly.

Stiles smirked every so slightly, "You're lucky I like you, Potter."

Harry nudged Stiles this time. "You love me, Stilinski."

They laughed before settling into a comfortable silence.

"Can I see your scar?" Harry asked after a while.

"I...I...the front one is sorta faded. Settled, I guess. But...things happened since I left the magical side. Fucked up things. I've got a new lightning scar that I think is affecting the old one." Stiles answered.

"How?"

"No idea..."

"Can I still see?" Harry asked. He never really understood people's fascination with wanting to see his scar until this moment. He was curious, but there was also this other feeling he really couldn't name. It was close to the disbelief of having survived in his fourth year. His whole magical life has revolved around Voldemort one way or another. Having an out thanks to Stiles was odd. No more pain or hallucinations, but still odd. It was almost like waking up from a dream. Seeing Stiles's scar would verify that it wasn't.

Stiles lifted up his shirt, but Harry frowned.

"There's nothing there."

"It's glamour."

Both boys turned to see Padfoot- Sirius Black -enter the room. He walked up to Stiles and ushered him towards the mirror where he could see how yes back was clear even though he could feel it. Sirius raised his hand over the back and muttered something under his breath. Angry red and purple lightning lines and figures showed themselves.

Harry's gasp of breath made Stiles drop his shirt. He always hated his scar. It was a harsh reminder of everything he lost and everything that was taken away from him. Unlike Lydia who wore her scar around her neck proudly, Stiles couldn't do the same with his.

Sirius was looking at him with an expression Stiles couldn't read and it made him nervous. He was usually good at reading people and so far Sirius has been a rather open book. A fellow mischief maker who didn't care much for rules.

"Harry, go make sure all your things are packed. We'll be off to the Weasley's in a bit."

"But-" Harry began to protest. But then followed his godfather's orders when the older man sent him a look.

Once they were alone Stiles didn't feel as uneasy as he thought he would. Though spending time with Derek and his pack made good practice for it, he supposed.

"Many people still wonder how it is you did what you did," Sirius said.

"Yeah, I'm one of them," Stiles replied sarcastically.

Sirius usual grin returned and it made Stiles feel better.

"I like you, lad. And I want to thank you."

"I didn't do anything." Stiles immediately replied.

"You befriended my godson for no other reason than liking his company. You had no ulterior motives and you helped him without looking to gain anything in return. You gave him an example of what a true hero should be. It's not someone grand with years of experience like Dumbledore, but just someone who sticks up for what's right...he wasn't really winning at first."

"Just because I was on the losing side, doesn't mean it was the wrong one," Stiles replied as he quoted Firefly.

Sirius looked at him, thought over the quote, and then nodded. "Yeah, I like you alright."

"You liked me the moment I said I protected werewolves. Like your friend."

"Remus."

"...his name is Remus? Seriously?"

"No, I'm Sirius and common misconception, but my middle name is Orion, not Lee. Remus is Remus John Lupin." Sirius replied with a smirk so wide it was no way subtle.

Stiles couldn't help but laugh. "Is he a born wolf?"

Sirius shook his head. "No. Bitten."

"Did the guy who bit him do it for a legit reason or just because he couldn't pass up the chance to bite a guy whose name is basically Werewolf McWolf?" asked with his usual brand of snark and raised an eyebrow.

Sirius snorted. "It's like you're my long lost brother. Come on. We've had enough serious business for one night. Let's get you situated and rested, we can continue this tomorrow."

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked as he was led out of the room.

"You remember Ron Weasley?"

"Harry's best friend?" Stiles asked. He and Ron talked a few times, but there was a bit of a rivalry between them. Stiles could tell that there was something between Ron and Hermione and Stiles had been the one to help Viktor ask Hermione out. And while Ron was a bit jealous of Harry during his champion chosen 'fame', Stiles had stepped in for a while as the only good, and therefore best, friend Harry had.

"Yes. His family's house is where we meet up. It's crowded but livelier and homey than my place. Still fixing that up." Sirius replied as they arrived back downstairs. Harry holding his backpack over his shoulders. He didn't see any other luggage and they weren't near the door. The thought of apparating again had him feeling nauseous already.

"Please tell me we're using the Floo Network?" Stiles begged slightly.

"Yes," Harry replied with a chuckle as he led Stiles to the fireplace.

Harry stepped in and called out his destination and was swallowed up by flames. Stiles followed suit and when he landed again he was covered in soot and ashes but was greeted by a lot of smiling faces. And the most redheads he's ever seen.

"Um...hi?"

He was immediately crushed into a hug and when he blinked his eyes into focus he saw Hermione's trademark bushy hair.

"Bloody hell, Mione...let the man breathe!" From behind her, he pinpointed Ron Weasley. He looked good. Taller and not as grumpy.

"Sorry. It's just...I never thought I'd see you again." Hermione held him at arm's length as she inspected him. He always got that older sister vibe from Hermione when they would talk and discuss Muggle lifestyle differences from England and America.

"I know...I'm still kinda shocked. I keep thinking I fell asleep in class and I'm about to wake up with another hour of detention to serve."

"Ugh, you got a Snape back home too?" Ron asked with a frown that looked like he ate something gross.

Stiles thought back to the teachers from that year and it wasn't hard to remember Snape. He shuddered at thinking him and Harris comparing notes on how to teach. "Yeah...his name is Harris. Hates me. And I'm just my clever, lovable, sarcastic self...I don't get it."

"See that, Fred?"
"I did indeed, George."

"Everyone move back and give the poor lad some room!" everyone parted and made way for a redhead middle-aged woman. She came to stand in front of Stiles and immediately frowned as she eyed him. "So thin! Come on, the boys can let their mischief wait. Dinner's ready. Oh, you probably don't know who I am. I'm Molly Weasley. All the redheads are mine. More will show up in their due time. We've had to expand the table to make room for extras each day."

"Oh, uh...I didn't mean to intrude." Stiles said shyly.

"Nonsense! Everyone is welcomed at the dinner table." Mrs. Weasley chimed as she ushered them towards the table.

"Especially anyone with 'Harry Potter' status," Ginny said. Stiles looked at her and okay, yeah, she grew up really...hot.

Stiles looked back towards the fireplace.

"Sirius and Remus probably stopped by Sirius' place. They'll join us soon." Harry said reassuringly before showing him to the table and taking a seat next to his. "Trust me, you'll feel better with a nice home cooked meal."

"Plus we have questions," Fred said.
"Indeed we do, fellow mischief maker," George said.

"You can't know he's a mischief maker," Hermione stated.

"Course we can." George chimed.
"It takes one to know one," Fred said.
Together they pointed at Stiles and said in unison, "And he is one."

Stiles shrugged and grinned at Hermione. "I kinda am."

She and Ginny rolled their eyes and the twins smiled happily at him.

Soon everyone began to fill the table and more and more people arrived. Stiles was introduced to Tonks, she and Remus were a thing. He met Mr. Weasley who asked him about the interwebs. Stiles tried to explain but Mrs. Weasley sent them a chiding look and he promised to continue the conversation later. Some of the older Weasley children arrived like Bill and his wife Fleur. When she saw Stiles she immediately hugged him. They hadn't spoken much, but apparently, she had heard why he was here and was happy about it. Harry whispered into his ear that Bill was attacked and had...side effects. Stiles was told that Percy couldn't make it because of work and Charlie was away but would visit soon. Once Sirius and Remus joined them, everyone began to eat.

Stiles didn't forget that there was a huge and dangerous issue to be dealt with that he didn't really understand yet. Just that it involved werewolves and his knowledge of them. Thinking of what he knew, he was afraid that it wouldn't be enough. And even if it was, what was keeping them from throwing him away like last time?

At the same time, he knew all that was awaiting him back in Beacon. Every day dangers his friends back home still faced and would need him for. Not to mention his father. But sitting around everyone like this reminded him of the time in the Great Halls of both Hogwarts and Salem. A place where he belonged and though he was still unique, he fit in and was normal. He laughed easily at things that somehow made sense, told jokes that everyone found funny, and ate food that tasted like home in a way no meal has in years.

He didn't know how long he'll stay in the Wizarding world this time, but he'll enjoy it while he has it.