AN: First of all, since I didn't add this to the last chapter, THANK YOU! to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited this story while it was in waiting. You are so amazing, and thank you for the patience and willingness to wait. I hope it was worth it. I answered some questions in this chapter, but not all. Remember, Harry has been MIA for six years. There're are going to be a lot of questions and missing information simply because Harry doesn't know yet, and you'll find out what's going on with the world as Harry does. Anyways, I'm glad I could finally give you all this update. I hope you enjoy. As always I own nothing. BTW, if you want to know the music for this chapter was One OK Rock and Imagine Dragons.

Chapter Six

The trio finished their meal in silence waiting for what Harry called the 'Ministries response' to his little confession. When nothing had happened by the end of their simple dinner Harry sighed. "Either they've decided not to act," he shrugged, "or Lillith was telling the truth and they think I'm dead."

"So what are you planning to do?" Sam asked sympathetically.

"I suppose first I need to get some new clothes." The teen mused. "Tomorrow these clothes will finally be dirty and that she-demon didn't exactly give me time to pack.

"You said you had gold." Dean spoke up. "Do you think you'll be able to access it?"

"I don't' know." He admitted moving to the bed closest to the bathroom. "But it shouldn't be that difficult to get clothes. My elf tends to hoard things and my house is cursed. Not to mention Kreacher has permission to maul anyone who tires to steal from me again."

The brothers stared at their guest. "I don't even know where to start." The older one frowned. "You have an elf? You live in a haunted house? Creatures are mauling people?"

Harry smiled, a slight up turning of his lips. "I know. It's a lot to take in. I was raised by muggles and it still seems like a dream sometimes."

"So," Sam asked, "if you were raised by… normal folks, how did you find out about all of this?"

"I got my letter." He answered fighting back a yawn. "Every witch and wizard gets a letter the summer before their eleventh birthday inviting them to study at a school for magic. I went to Hogwarts in Scotland, though there are at least two more that I know of in Europe and several more worldwide."

"That you know of?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Yeah." The wizard nodded. "The schools are extremely competitive. Like lethally competitive. The ministry strictly monitors inter-school competitions to keep contestants from getting killed. And each school teaches a certain style. Like Durmstrang has a particularly heavy hand and Beuxbatons has a ridiculously delicate touch sometimes. They say that Durmstrang teaches the Dark Arts, but I don't believe that. I've known some of their students and the only one that used dark magic was not operating in his right mind at the time."

"What do you mean?" Dean pressed.

"He was under the Imperius Curse." Harry said darkly. "Another wizard was controlling him. That was the night that Tom came back." He finished softly.

"Kid, you're beat." Sam said kindly. "We can finish this in the morning. For now, just get some sleep."

Harry nodded, lying back on the bed. Soon he was asleep. Dean glared at his baby brother. "I'm not so sure about this." He grumbled. "The kid is some sort of angel bait magic witch boy."

Sam returned the glare. "He was born this way." He admonished. "He can't help how he was born."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it." Dean growled.

"No, but you have to deal with it." Sam snapped.

"And just how do you suggest we do that?"

"We can take him to Bobby." Sam decided firmly. "He'll know what to do."

"Whatever man." Dean huffed. "I'm going to bed. And just in case the kid kills us in our sleep I'm saying 'I told you so' now."

Sam rolled his eyes as his brother moved to take the other bed leaving him to call the office for a cot.

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Harry woke just after midnight with a screaming headache. Wincing in pain he tried to get up hoping to find some painkillers, but instead he hit the floor with a loud hard crash waking the two brothers. Sam and Dean bolted awake as the teen screamed in sudden agony.

"Harry?" Dean yelled. "C'mon kid! Snap out of it!"

"Scar!" Harry shrieked.

"What scar?" Sam asked urgently caught between trying to check the veritable maze of old wounds and attempting to lift the younger man back onto the bed.

As soon as the hunter touched him the teen was bathed in a soft golden nimbus that seemed to emanate from his pale skin. As he lay screaming it pulsed once, twice, and then was gone leaving Harry panting and unresponsive on the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded.

"It was a powerful angelic nature healing it's host." The hunters spun at the familiar gruff voice to see Castiel standing angrily behind them. "Why do you have a nephilim and where did you find it?"

"Wait. You said powerful." Dean grasped. "But Azreal said he'd only have minor angel powers."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "How does Azreal know about this nephilim?"

"He asked us to let him out. He was trapped." Sam confessed frowning. "But he said that Harry wouldn't be very strong."

"He was wrong." The angel refuted. "This nephilim has the presence of an angelic warrior."

"What does that mean?" The older Winchester asked with disgust.

The angel regarded the unconscious teen before bending down and lifting him back up onto the bed. "There are only a few angels that could give their nephilim offspring such strength." He said monotonously. "I do not envy any angel who challenges him."

"So what was the light?" Sam asked.

"A healing. This body was badly damaged in some way. Angelic presence will not abide a damaged body, so he healed himself."

"Azreal said he wouldn't be able to heal."

"I wonder why my brother chose to free this creature." Castiel mused darkly before looking at the younger brother. "He can heal, himself only though. This child has a warrior's soul. Warriors do not heal; they fight."

"Fight what?" Dean asked flatly.

"Evil." The angel said as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Right, evil. Shoulda guessed that." Dean grumbled.

Castiel blinked at the brothers before turning his gaze to the sleeping half blood. "I will stay until he wakes." He stated firmly. "I have many questions for this nephilim."

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The sun was high in the sky when Harry woke again. He blinked slowly, wincing as muscles protested the abuse of the night before. He spared a moment to smile as his mind registered that yesterday had happened. He was finally eighteen. Then the smile faded. Sighing he braced himself and slowly rose from the bed mindful of protesting body. "I feel like someone used a damn Cruciatus." He grumbled to the room in general. When no one answered him his eyes flickered around the room half expecting to find out it had been a dream and he was back in the thrice-damned apartment. A silent sigh of relief escaped as he was met with the empty hotel room. "Sam?" He called. "Dean?"

With a soft grunt the teen stumbled off the bed and towards the bathroom of the small suite. He froze in front of the large mirror as his gaze met the not-so-blurry reflection. "Merlin…" he whispered blinking at himself. A quick glance at his hands showed perfect, flawless flesh. The scars from Umbridge and Gringotts were gone. Hastily he rolled up his sleeve expecting to find the scars from the basilisk and the graveyard. Gone. All that remained was perfect unmarred skin. With trembling hands he lifted his bangs from his forehead. The skin was smooth. The lightening bolt scar he had born for as long as he could remember had vanished. Every mark left by Tom Riddle and the war had disappeared overnight. For several seconds he stood absorbing the shock of the loss of his single most defining feature.

Then he laughed, sinking to the ground…

It was several minutes before the laughter slowly choked into a sob before fading away, the emotions behind it dry and spent. With a deep shaky sigh Harry rose from where he had sunk. Facing the stranger in the mirror he swiped at the tear streaks trailing down his now fleshed out cheeks and examined his new self. His face was still angular, but no longer thin from years of unhealthy eating. His skin was still a bit pale, but much tanner than it had ever been before except during quidditch season. He emerald eyes were brighter than they had been. The wild black hair was full and light. Taller. He frowned. He was taller, and more muscled, as though the years of starvation and neglect at the hands of the Dursleys had never happened. Every flaw was gone. Steeling himself he closed his eyes, licked his lips, and swallowed. "Kreacher." He summoned. "Come to your master."

A light crack made him turn to find the wizened elf bowing, tears leaking from his eyes. "Master Harry has returned to his Kreacher." The elf muttered happily. "Kreacher knew his master lived. Kreacher and Winky are keeping Master's estates in order."

"Thank you." Harry said, kneeling to look the gnarled creature in the eyes. "You've done well." He waited for a moment for the elf to collect himself before going on. "Kreacher, do you know where my holly wand is?"

"Mrs. Weasley is having Master's wand." He nodded licking his thin lips. "The Mistress is giving it to her before she is dying."

"I see." The green-eyed wizard frowned, nodding to himself. "And my vaults at Gringotts?"

"The goblins is having no record of Master's death. Kreacher is having Master's key."

"Good." Harry nodded. "Can you bring me a small bag of clothes? And some of the gold stashed in Grimmauld Place?" The elf nodded eagerly. "And tell Ron and Hermione that I'm free. I'll come home as soon as I can."

"Yes, Master." Kreacher nodded bowing.

"Thank you Kreacher." The teen smiled sadly. "I don't know what I did to deserve such a good friend."

The ancient house elf beamed at the praise and the disappeared with another small crack.