AN: I've seen the Rabe's last name spelt "Rabe" and "Rabbe." In this fic, I've decided to follow the wiki's example and go with a single 'b' instead of the double. You're getting a second chapter because I felt that leaving up just the one from mostly Harry's perspective is giving prospective readers the idea that I'm only going to focus on that side when the majority of the story is actually going to be Grimm-centric. So, here we go!

Reviews are much appreciated - even if it's just to say "good job!" or something like that. Construct criticism is also useful even if I may not decide to hede it depending on what we're criticising.


Chapter #2

Frank Rabe hadn't intended on finding a young Grimm when he went to London. He was just there for business – honestly – but apparently finding the world's worst Grimm in Portland meant he was going to run into a hell of a lot of weird things. Things like a young Grimm on his doorstep with tickets to a concert at a local music academy that led to the fostering of a young Reinegen in his house.

Which is fine because Roddy and Barry get along surprisingly well and Frank likes having the extra body in the house. It made it feel more like a proper home – a feeling sorely missed after the fiasco with the Colbert boys, his now-imprisoned wife, and the two humans. He doesn't think it would have worked if it weren't the Grimm who'd asked for it. He's not sure, but there's something about a lithe little Grimm begging him to break the usual predator-prey relationship and honestly being confused when Frank didn't immediately agree it was a great idea, that makes it hard to say no to the man.

But a young Grimm he had most definitely found, leaning outside of a small shop and peering out at the crowds. He looked sort of lost and Frank is man enough to admit that his Jägerbar parenting instincts aren't the only driving force behind his desire to help the little one.

Then the Fury emerged and she was bleeding bloody tears and had her talons out and curling as she pulled the little Grimm away. The Fury is the Grimm's aunt which is beyond strange and into ridiculous but Frank arranges for the meeting anyway because it's a Grimm and he knows of only one other who would like desperately to know about more of his family.

That the bright green eyes and careful posture scream neglect even as Frank's instincts scream weak prey doesn't help much either.

So he's sitting on a bench in a park somewhere in Surrey when the Fury approaches with the little Grimm. "Wait over there," she tells him and he goes to play on the swings where he none-too-discreetly watches them with avid interest.

She doesn't speak and her eyes aren't bleeding but her feathers look ragged and sharp and he doesn't need to feel them to know they're knives rustling and waiting to be used. He carefully keeps his human guise under control to mollify her but she doesn't relent – she stands her ground and stares at him expectantly with arms loosely hanging at her sides.

"I know a Grimm," he begins because – really – where else should he start? "He lives in Portland – the nephew of Marie Kessler."

"Her!" The Fury spits and the whip-thin tendrils in her hair snake angrily. Apparently the woman's reputation spreads beyond America. He isn't sure that's a good thing. "You know her nephew?"

"He's a good one," he tries and holds his hands palm up. "He could have killed my wife – she was trying to kill some humans – but he didn't. He had her arrested and tried fairly in actual human court."

"Your point?" She looks more willing to listen now but her feathers are still knife-edged and they rattle.

He doesn't have a real point. He just knows that she clearly doesn't want the little Grimm in her care (although she'll obviously defend him fiercely) and that Nick Burkhardt wants desperately to know more about his family. He knows that his giant home is empty and cold although Barry tries his best and even gets along with the musical genius they've adopted as one of their own even though he's a Reinegen of all things. He takes a deep breath and looks at the boy. The little Grimm's wide green eyes are fixed on his Aunt and the stranger she's talking to and he doesn't look afraid in the slightest.

"I've fostered a Reinegen boy," he begins. "I'd like to adopt your nephew."

Her eyes widen and she glances over quickly. There's disbelief in her scent and the copper of blood pooling in her eyes. "Adopt him?"

"The Grimm I know is a detective. He's absolutely hopeless and would rather negotiate with every creature he comes across instead of just killing them and being done with it. He…he saved my wife from being found by another. He got my boy off and gave me another to fill the space…" The little Grimm is tilting his head this way and that as though he'll get a glimpse of something interesting. "I'd like to be able to do him a favour in return; I'd like to be able to protect another Grimm so maybe we'd have two on our side."

She gestures at the boy stiffly. "He's my sister's child. You know the story of the Erinyes – the Furies of Ancient Greece?"

"I know enough," he hedges hopefully.

"After the business with Orestes we became the Semnai – the Venerable Ones," she says. "We stopped breeding for brutal efficiency and instead chose grace and elegance. Our line has thinned with human relations but the women still tend to display a number of traits. My sister took after the Semnai. I took after the Erinyes." She clicks her beak and her feathers rattle. "She married a Grimm – a distant cousin, rather – which my genetics could not abide; they kill indiscriminately and sow anger and hatred in their wake.

"My sister was a Semnai; she could give him a chance and she could find the good. I could not. The constant whispers of…" she trails off and looks away. "Well, I couldn't do it. We fell out, I married a human, and I spent the rest of my life avoiding her."

"How did you end up with her child then?"

"She was killed." Her eyes aren't bleeding. They're dry and cold and ruby-red. "The people who were supposed to protect her family dumped her son on my doorstep in the middle of the night and left. They didn't know, of course, and I've had to raise a Grimm. A Grimm," she hisses furiously. "The very creature that got her killed!"

They don't speak for a while. She eventually composes herself and gestures for the boy to come over. "Harry, you see this man?"

"Ye-ees," he says and draws out the word.

"Would you like to live with him?"

The Grimm – Harry – looks up and frowns thoughtfully. "I guess."

"Harry Potter," she says in warning.

"Why am I leaving?" he demands of his aunt. "Is it 'cause I see your feathers?"

"It is because this man is more capable of looking after you." She doesn't touch him reassuringly. Just stares. "You know that coin you have?"

He gapes. "You aren't supposed to know!"

"You cannot hide things from me, boy," she returns archly. "You should not have met that one and you did. Mr. Rabe will protect you."

"He didn't even do anything."

"Nevertheless," she presses an invisible wrinkle smooth on her skirt. "Would you like to live with a bear? There is another person like you – a cousin."

"Like Dudley?"

"Better than Dudley," she says and sounds annoyed at herself. "Will you?"

"Alright," he agrees and looks over. "I've never seen a bear before."

Frank wants to tug the little boy close and properly acquaint himself with his scent so he'll never lose him and no one will ever even think of touching him (especially not something that has a Fury worried). He wants to feed the boy and get him clothes that don't hang off of bony limbs and make him look absolutely tiny. But he can't yet because there's paperwork to do and so he offers the Fury a business card and arranges to meet with her again the next day at his London offices to put the transfer of guardianship through and begin the process of adoption.

A lot of money goes a long way and Frank has Harry packed and ready to fly back to the States by the end of his scheduled trip. The boy blinks up at his Aunt and very gently touches where the feathers at would be at her collarbone before following Frank docilely. Petunia watches them leave with a human face full of relief and sorrow mingled.

Harry just seems enamoured of the idea of being able to fly.

end chapter.