Harry walked out into the meeting hall of Dane County Regional Airport. His entire body was stiff and exhausted from the nearly ten hour flight from London to Madison. Hedwig ruffled her feathers as Harry carried the cage and his small bag filled with everything he needed towards the crowds of people. It had been a hassle to get the bird on the plane, but with a bit extra money, one could accomplish a lot. Still, the owl seemed to be glaring at Harry, probably unhappy with him for allowing the vets to give her a shot against diseases or the dark space she and other animals had been kept in.
He looked around himself, scanning the many unfamiliar faces of friends and family of the passengers from the London flight. At last, he spotted the woman holding up a white paper with 'Harry P.' written on it. Smiling, Harry approached the lady.
"Harry?" she asked in greeting.
"Yes madam," Harry replied with a small smile.
The woman smiled at his good manners and lowered the paper. Harry took the moment to study her a bit. She looked just a few years younger than Remus, so she was likely in her early thirties and she had blond hair and blue eyes. She wasn't bad looking, but she wasn't anything special either.
"Remus told me a bit about you," the woman said.
"My name is Sandra Wilson, by the way."
"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Wilson," Harry said brightly.
"Thank you very much for letting me stay with you for a while."
"That's fine, but I have to warn you, my husband and daughters don't know about magic. I've always told them my uncle and Remus were simply odd and eccentric, so I have to ask you to keep it hidden."
"I understand Mrs. Wilson," the teen replied.
"Just call me Sandra, sweetheart," the woman chuckled.
"Now let's get home and get you settled. Bethany has been really excited about you coming."
Harry blushed a bit at that and followed the kind lady to the parking lot. He was led towards a silver minivan and couldn't help but smile. It reminded him of his own dreams for the future, where he'd have a nice wife, two or three kids and a car just like that. A normal, white picket fence life, just like the Wilsons.
"Get in, sweetheart," Sandra ushered him.
Harry nodded and put his bag and Hedwig's cage into the trunk before he moved to the passenger seat. Before he could open the car door, Sandra stopped him, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
"This is America, Harry," she said.
For a moment, Harry didn't understand what she meant by that, but when he realized his mistake, he blushed. Ducking his head in embarrassment, Harry walked over to the other side of the car and went to sit. Sandra laughed in amusement at his mistake and entered the driver's seat.
"Sorry," Harry muttered.
"No problem! I'm sure I would have done the same if I were to go to England."
The ride to town was filled with mindless chatter. Sandra told Harry everything about her family, happy to share her pride with a new person. Her youngest daughter, Bethany, had recently turned six while her older, Mary was ten. She was apparently a spelling bee champion already and a very studious girl. Bethany was more childish, as expected from a girl her age of course.
Her husband, Marc was a hardworking man. He owned the local supermarket and maybe Harry could work there part time if he wanted. Marc was always short a few hands anyway, Sandra told him. Harry had smiled at her and said he'd loved to help out anyway he could.
"You don't see that very often around here, such well-mannered teenage boys," Sandra told him.
"Honestly, most kids around the area act like wild monkeys. I'm glad to see at least some kids out there still know how to show respect."
"It's just the way I was raised," Harry told her.
If Sandra noticed the bitterness in Harry's tone when he said that, she didn't react on it. The only thing she did was chuckle a bit before focusing back on the road.
Soon after, they arrived at the home. Harry looked at it. The home was spacious, surrounded by a nice garden. It wasn't like the Dursley home, which had been a mirror image of the neighbours with a flower garden that had been measured to perfection, all plants in their right spots, counted on the millimetre (Harry was more aware of this than most, considering he'd planted them like that himself, under careful scrutiny of his aunt of course). It was more natural, friendlier and especially, more personal.
"You have a beautiful home, Sandra," Harry commented honestly as he exited the car.
The woman actually blushed at the praise and waved Harry off.
"It's nothing, really," she replied.
"I enjoy working in the garden quite a bit."
"I understand," Harry told her grinning.
"I've always enjoyed gardening myself."
More than most of the other chores at least.
Sandra led him to the front door and walked inside. As soon as the door fell closed behind them, a young girl with two brown pigtails came peeking from behind a corner. As she saw Harry, her eyes widened and she walked closer.
"Are you Harry?" she asked.
"Yes I am. You must be Bethany, right?"
The girl nodded shyly and Harry smiled at her, holding out his hand.
"Well, it's very nice to meet you," he greeted.
The young girl giggled and shook his hand.
. . . . .
"So, Harry," Marc started during dinner.
"What brought you all the way here in the middle of a school month?"
Harry saw Sandra tense from the corner of his eye, but forced himself to stay calm. He'd gone over the possibility of this question during the flight over and he was sure he had found a good explanation that was at least somewhat believable.
"I'm an orphan, sir," he started, knowing that just mentioning that would earn him some pity points, no matter how much of a blow that was to his pride.
"I'm raised by my aunt and uncle, but we don't really get along well. They feel like I'm intruding on their life, see and I thought it would be good for me to see some more of the world. I've already finished exams, so they gave me permission to start summer early on, and since I was hoping to come to America for university in a few years, my godfather, Remus Lupin, Sandra's cousin, suggested I stay here for a bit to learn the cultural difference between Britain and the US."
"Ah, well, there are a lot of good colleges around of course," Marc nodded.
"I never went to any, but Sandra graduated from Concordia University."
"Really?" Harry asked interested.
"What did you study?"
"Elementary Education," the woman replied.
"I'm a teacher, or was. A fulltime housewife currently."
"I want to study Law," Harry told the family.
"Or Social Services. I want to make a difference."
"That's the spirit, boy!" Marc exclaimed grinning.
"And you've got plenty of time left to think it over."
Harry grinned and nodded. When everyone was finished eating, Harry stood up and started clearing the table waving Sandra away when she tried to take the plates from him.
"Don't worry about it and let me do the dishes," he told her.
"It's the least I can do for letting me stay here for the summer."
"Oh, no! You're a guest, I can't let you do the work here."
"Please, I insist," Harry pressed gently.
"I can't stand sitting by the side and doing nothing anyway."
"Well, if you want to stay busy, you can join me at the store tomorrow!" Marc called from the living room.
"I'd love to!" Harry called back grinning.
. . . . .
Hedwig hooted from her cage, waiting for her master to finally let her out of the cage again like he did every night since they'd arrived in America. This had Harry look up from his books. He shook his head clear from all the troubling thoughts and walked over to his pet, smiling apologetically at the magnificent white bird.
"I'm sorry, Hedwig. I guess I was a bit out of it," he whispered as he opened the cage.
The bird ruffled her feathers, gave Harry a stern look and hopped out of the cage. She waited calmly for Harry to open the window before she spread her beautiful white wings and flew off into the night sky. Harry smiled wistfully at the sight before turning back to his research.
He was reading his books with a vigour he hadn't shown in years. He just hoped he could find something that could help Mary. The poor girl had suddenly fallen ill last night with a heavy case of pneumonia and was now at the hospital. Sandra stayed there too, after making Harry promise not to let Marc or Bethany live of microwave dinners while she was gone. After a week and a half, she was less inclined to feel guilty about having him help out with chores. Not after both her daughters had fallen in love with his delicious apple pie.
A scream from the room next to his had Harry drop his books and rush out. That had sounded like Bethany. Fear gripped at Harry as he threw the door open just in time to see a cloaked figure diving out of the open window. The young girl was lying on the bed, unresponsive.
Slowly, harry walked over and pressed a hand on her forehead. Bethany was still breathing, luckily, but she felt too cold. He shook her softly, but that only rewarded him with a weak shudder and a quiet whimper. Heavy footsteps thundered through the hall and seconds later, Marc appeared in the doorway, eyes wide in panic. A dark look crossed his expression when he saw Harry leaning over his youngest daughter and he charged. Harry swallowed nervously and took a step back, already feeling where this was going to end up.
"What did you do?!"
. . . . .
Harry was walking back to the house when he noticed a strange car parked in front. Frowning, he stopped. Sandra and Marc were both at the hospital with their girls, so he was supposed to be home alone at least until tonight. Was someone breaking in?
Careful, he snuck around the house and entered via the backdoor. He made sure to stay completely silent, something he had learned from living with the Dursleys for the past 15 years. He looked around, searched both the kitchen and the living room for the intruders but found nothing. Just when he started thinking he had been mistaken, he heard noises from upstairs. Harry cursed silently. If the burglar would look around in the guestroom, he'd be in big trouble.
He made his way up the stairs as fast as he could without alerting the intruders of his presence. The noises came from Mary and Bethany's room, frowning, Harry snuck over to the door and peeked inside. It were two men, young, mid-twenties if he made a guess. One was really tall, with brown hair and the other was shorter, with short blond hair, but they both seemed like they could easily overpower Harry. The tallest of the two stood next to the window Harry had seen the creature disappear through the other night and he opened it.
"Hey Dean!" the tall one called.
"Yah?"
"You were right. It's not pneumonia."
Frowning, Harry walked into the room. It was time he let his presence be known if he wanted an inkling of what was going on.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
The two men turned around, eyes widening when they saw him. Harry glared at them and pushed his chest out in an attempt to make himself look more threatening.
"We, uh…" the brunette muttered incoherently.
Harry ignored him and walked over to the window, looking down on what the two strangers had been staring at. His eyes widened when he saw the handprint rotten in the wood of the windowsill.
"I knew I saw something," he muttered.
"You saw something? When?" the shorter man asked.
Harry turned around and glared at the speaker. The man didn't back down, he just stared back with narrowed eyes as he gave Harry a once-over.
Harry knew he didn't look like much. He was short and scrawny, with a birds nest on his head and bad fitting glasses that seemed to come from last century. For all Harry knew, that was actually true as the Dursleys didn't want to pay him new ones. His clothes were also baggy on him, making him look even smaller and younger than he actually was. Not really an intimidating picture.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded instead of answering.
"What are you doing here and what do you know about the creature that has been attacking children."
"Kid, I don't know what you're talking about," the short man started, but the tall one cut him off.
"An answer for an answer. What did you see?"
Harry sighed and looked up at the brunette. He had soft, hazel eyes, he noted, while the other had green eyes a few shades darker than Harry's own. They looked more volatile than the tall one too.
"Not much," he admitted after a short moment.
"Last night, I heard Bethany scream, so I rushed over to see if she was alright. I was just in time to see a cloaked figure leave through the window."
"Cloaked? Who even still says that?" the shorter man snorted.
"I answered," Harry grumbled, glaring at the man.
"Now you answer me. Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"We're hunters," the tall brunette told him.
"We hunt down and kill supernatural creatures that hurt humans."
"Sammy!" the short one scolded.
"He deserves to know!"
Harry swallowed nervously as he stared between the two men. Hunters of the supernatural. Did that mean they would also kill wizards? Would they kill him if they knew what he was? Not that he was going to tell them of course. He preferred not to break the Statute of Secrecy.
"So… do you know what hurt them?" he wondered.
"No, I have no idea what leaves a handprint like this," the tall one replied.
Harry frowned and looked back towards the print. The figure had seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't exactly place it. With a glance towards the blond man, he noticed the other apparently did recognize it.
"I know why dad send us here," the man muttered, seemingly forgetting Harry's presence.
"He's faced this thing before and he wants us to finish the job."
"So what is it?" Harry asked.
"Stay out of it kid," the blonde said.
"Not bloody likely," Harry scoffed.
"It's hurt innocent people. I'm not going to stand by and watch."
"This gig is dangerous. You're better off here."
"Right," the teen drawled sarcastically.
"How about we go find a motel and we can talk this through?" the brunette suggested.
"You know a place, kid?"
"Sure. My name is Harry by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Sam and this is Dean."
Harry smiled at him and walked the two men out. As he had expected, the car in front of the house was theirs. They let him come with them for directions and he listened while they talked about what they were hunting.
"I think it's a Shtriga," Dean said.
"What the hell is a Shtriga?" Sam asked.
"It's like a witch I think. I don't know much about them," Dean replied with a shrug.
Harry scowled. That thing looked absolutely nothing like a witch. His thoughts went to Hermione or Mrs. Weasley. Those were great witches, but they looked nothing like the thing last night. Just comparing them with that seemed like an insult to him.
"I've never heard of it, and it's not in dad's journal."
"Does your father's journal have other monsters in it?" Harry asked curiously.
"Like… werewolves and vampires or something?"
"Sure," Dean replied, looking at him through the rearview mirror.
"And how to kill 'em too. A werewolf, or any other kind of shifter you off with a silver bullet to the heart."
Harry nodded and swallowed.
"What about witches?" he asked.
"Iron," Sam told him.
Harry nodded gravely. He looked out and noticed they reached their destination.
"We're here," he said.
Dean turned and drove into the motel driveway. They parked the car and all three exited. Without much of a word, Dean went to check in while Sam turned to Harry.
"You want us to drive you back?" he asked.
"No need. I can walk."
With a simple wave, Harry turned around and started walking back from where they had come. It was going to be a long walk, but Harry felt like he could use the fresh air after everything. He scowled in thought. These two men, hunters, killed witches too. But if they considered this Shtriga a sort of witch too, maybe they hadn't come across a real one yet. Harry wondered if he should tell them what he was, if only to make sure they wouldn't accidentally kill an innocent witch or wizard, but at the same time, he feared they'd attack him just on principle.
. . . . .
Harry saw Dean the next morning in the hospital, accompanying the lady from the motel to see her youngest son. He'd never met Asher himself, and the few times he'd met the older kid, Michael hadn't really warmed him up to the boy, but Harry still felt bad about what happened. He wanted this Shtriga stopped before more people could get hurt.
He lingered around idly while Dean was on the phone, eager to find out if the two hunters had found anything useful to stop the creature. As he hung up, Harry walked over. The man had a dark expression on his face as he watched Dr. Hydeker look over Asher.
"Found anything?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," the man muttered, pushing past the teen and approached the doctor.
"So, what's the CDC come up with so far?" Hydeker asked him.
"We're still working on a few theories," Dean replied.
"You'll know something as soon as we do."
"Let me know if I can help," the doctor told him.
Dean nodded gravely as Dr. Hydeker walked away, expression still dark and furious. Harry's eyes widened when he realized why that was.
"It's him, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yeah," Dean nodded.
"But you stay out of it. Sam and I are handling this."
"Then what are you going to do? Can you stop him?"
"We'll handle it, kid," the man growled annoyed.
. . . . .
Harry was walking back towards the motel in the middle of the night. Why, he had no idea, but the whole thing kept nagging at him. The Winchester brothers had assured him they had everything under control, but still, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he should check up on them to see if they didn't need any help.
Maybe it was the feeling of uselessness he got from hanging around the house, or the fact that he needed to prove someone he was trustworthy now that the Wilsons believed he might have something to do with their daughters getting sick. Marc refused to let him close to the hospital room they stayed at, and if it wasn't for Sandra's sense of duty towards Remus, he would have been send back to England already. Maybe he could at least prove these hunters he was worth trusting.
As he reached the motel, he walked over to the room he knew the two hunters were staying at. He paused when he heard gunshots coming from the main building and quickly changed course. He cursed himself for not realizing earlier that the next target was Michael. The hunters were probably using the kid as bait or something.
He burst into the room, just in time to see the Shtriga trying to choke Sam while Dean was strewn haphazardly against the far wall. It struck him how much the creature looked like a Dementor and the fact that its ability to suck life from its victims was pretty similar too. Not thinking any further, Harry allowed muscle memory to lift his wand arm and point the wand to the creature.
"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled.
A silver stag sprouted from his wand point and charged at the Shtriga. The creature hissed and backed up into a wall, unable to escape the bright light the patronus transmitted. Both Winchester brothers were staring in pure shock at what was happening and Harry even noticed Michael's head pop up from underneath the bed to watch the scene with awe.
"Don't just stand there, shoot the bloody thing!" Harry yelled at the hunters.
Dean seemed to snap out of it first and lifted his gun. He shot several times, each bullet burying itself into the Shtriga's chest without fail and the creature went down. With a relieved sigh, Harry lowered his wand and the stag disappeared. He quickly pocketed his tool, eyeing the hunters warily to make sure neither had seen what he had done.
Once the brothers had made sure the Shtriga was really dead, they turned their heads to Harry. The teen took a step back and gulped nervously as he saw the dark looks on their faces. Maybe they had seen more than he initially thought they had.
"We need to talk," Dean spoke darkly.