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! I also don't own the songs!
AN: Well, last chapter was late, this chapter is early...whatever. I'm leaving today for my grandfather's and I won't have internet for a few days so I thought y'all would appreciate the update now as opposed to Saturday at the earliest. Anywho, thanks for all the awesome reviews, I love reading them and hearing what you guys have to say. Thanks goes out to my beta Kirallie for doing such a wonderful job. The references from last chapter weren't huge but for anyone who cares to know...Harry's fake name "Orsino Thruston" is the name of the drummer of the Weird Sisters and the motel the boys are staying at "Cokeworth Motel" is named after one of the towns Harry stayed in when the Durselys were running from the letters.
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.
0~*~*~0
Sam realized with startling clarity that the motel room was entirely too small to contain his brother's emotions. Dean was pacing the floor in front of the beds, his face a mask of anger but his hazel eyes betrayed the fear in him. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides while his legs ate up the short distance in long strides. The younger man just watched with brown eyes his trek across the room and back as Dean continued to rant to him about exactly what their cousin has done. Once Sam had explained that Harry had just disappeared, literally, Dean had immediately tried to call his phone. Harry didn't pick up and after several more tries it went straight to the generic voicemail; they hadn't had time to record a personalized one yet. Harry had taken off almost an hour ago without a word and Sam was growing more worried.
He'd quickly immersed himself in the webpages he'd shown the younger man but couldn't find anything that would cause him to leave. Each of the victims had police records, though no charges were ever filed against them. Apparently the thing all the men had in common was their affinity for hitting people when they got upset. Miles Anderson had been reported to child services twelve years ago, six months after his wife had died due to suspicious bruising around his son's arms and a broken wrist, that the small child claimed came from falling off his bike…in the middle of winter…with three feet of snow on the ground. The investigation had gone nowhere and he'd never been charged again. There'd also been a standard investigation into his wife's death but it was quickly ruled as car failure. Marc Jacobs on the other hand had many notices. Several people throughout his ten year marriage had come to the police citing spousal abuse but his wife, Beth, had never come forward with allegations and he was never officially charged. Evan Jewel had been charged with assault of an ex-girlfriend but it was dropped due to lack of evidence. All three men had been suspected abusers but weren't ever prosecuted. Sam could understand why someone might want them dead. But while they now knew why the men were being targeted and killed, they still didn't know who was doing it.
A shrill ringing broke the silence. Dean practically dove for the phone perched on the bedside table and opened it before barking into it, "Harry?"
The younger boy cringed. He could hear the anger and desperation in his cousin's voice and he almost wished he'd called Sam's phone instead. Though to be honest, Dean probably would have taken it anyway. He'd spent the better part of an hour talking to Dr. Culvier and going over old ME records. He had a fair idea who the wizard was but he needed to be absolutely certain. "Erm, hello…"
"Don't you hello me! Where the hell are you?" Yup, definitely should have called Sam. Harry sighed before answering.
"I was at the morgue, looking at some old records," Harry explained calmly, trying to sound innocent. "I think I may know who the killer is."
"What do you mean "were"? Where are you now?" Of course that's the only thing he heard; honestly, the man had a one track mind like freankin' niffler.
"Didn't you hear me?" Harry cried exasperated. "I know who the killer is!"
"I don't give a damn who the freakin' killer is! I don't care if it's Merlin for crying out loud. Where the hell are you?" It was at that moment that Harry realized his cousin was worried; he also realized that Dean didn't do "worried" all that well.
"I'm walking towards the minimart down the road from the morgue, I figured neither of us had any breakfast yet so I was going to pick some up before I apparated back," Harry replied, slightly proud of himself that he'd not only remembered his phone but his wallet with the American money as well. He'd hoped the peace offering of food would appease Dean but now he figured he should have called after he'd gotten it.
"Don't bother, we're on our way," Dean said. Harry heard his older cousin sigh over the phone. "Alright, so who's the killer?"
"Mitchell Anderson," Harry said evenly.
"The kid?"
"One and the same," Harry looked down at the information in his hands, giving enough attention to his surroundings that he walked on the sidewalk and not into the street. "When I saw the police reports, especially the one on his mum, I knew he was the one. But I had to make sure."
"What the hell does this have to do with his mother?"
"His mum's maiden name is Bethany Greengrass," Harry explained knowing they wouldn't get the reference. "The Greengrasses are a very prominent wizarding family back in England. Apparently Bethany ran away from home a couple years before the First War ended against her family's wishes. She got married and had a kid."
"But Harry," Sam's voice came over the phone, soft and understanding. Dean must have put it on speakerphone. "His mother died when he was seven, in a car accident. We went over the police reports, there was nothing odd about it."
"The witnesses said there was a green flash just before the car hit the pole, right?" Harry replied. "I think some Death Eaters came looking for Bethany and killed her – Voldemort wasn't particularly understanding about people leaving. The ME and police ruled it a car accident because they didn't see the same signs on her as they did on our victims. Her face was too messed up to see that it was frozen in shock."
"We looked into the kid Harry," Dean said, coming over. "There's nothing odd about him either."
"No, I think his father knew about the magic and the real reason for his wife's murder. Most wizards come into their magic as children; we first start seeing signs of it when they're four or five, but sometimes as late as seven. I think the first time Miles hurt his son was after he showed signs of magic after his mother had died. His father had come to hate magic, thus he took it out on his son."
"But he didn't go to a magical school," Sam ventured but started to see why Mitch was sounding more likely.
"You can refuse," Harry responded. "Children can be homeschooled or attend different institutions than the ones that first sent them their letters. It's possible Miles didn't allow his son to attend magic school and because the AMG is so lax, they didn't check up on him properly to make sure he was receiving an education."
"But how'd he learn the spell or get the wand?" Sam asked logically. Harry frowned.
"I'm not sure, I—" He broke off speaking and glanced around. He couldn't see anyone but he was pretty sure someone was following him. He could hear Dean and Sam's voices coming from the phone in his hand but he didn't answer until he was sure he couldn't find the source of his worry. "Sorry about that. I thought –" An explosion of pain ripped through his head and he tumbled to ground, unaware of anything as the darkness overtook him.
0~*~*~0
"Harry!" Dean shouted taking his eyes off the road for a minute to look at the phone, half expecting, half hoping his cousin would pop out of it. "Harry!"
"Sorry about that, I thought—" Dean's stomach dropped as he heard a loud crashing sound come over the phone. There were a few footsteps and a scrambling noise before a dial tone reached their ears. Sam picked up the phone to hang-up and Dean glared at the road ahead as his foot stomped down on the accelerator. They spun around a corner and barreled down the street the morgue was on. They'd been so close, so close, damn it! Dean swerved harshly into a parking space, for once unmindful of how his car was treated. Grabbing his phone, he quickly redialed Harry's number, praying the bastard who took him didn't also take his phone or smash it. He started running along the sidewalk towards the convenience store situated on the corner. It wasn't that far, how come he didn't make it before something happened?
A ringtone filled the air and the brothers sprinted towards it, recognizing it as Harry's newly bought phone. Sam picked it up having gotten there first with his ginormous legs but Dean grabbed it from his hands and held it close to him, as though it would magically make his cousin reappear. Sam began looking around the area, trying to find clues as to where Harry and his kidnapper could have gone, but the only thing there was his cellphone.
"Alright, alright," Sam said grabbing his brother's arm. "What do we know?" Dean seemed to break out of whatever trance he'd been in and strode toward the car.
"We know that punk kid took Harry," the older man growled as he climbed into the car and barely waited for Sam to shut his door before peeling out of the parking space.
"No, we know he's the killer," Sam amended. "But it's pretty likely he also took Harry. Where are you going?"
"The kid's house," Dean said, pressing his foot harder onto the accelerator. Once he got him back, Dean was going to kick his ass for making him worry like this, after he pounded that stupid little bastard for taking him in the first place. Then Harry was going to be training for a month, this getting kidnapped thing was getting old.
"You really think he took him back to his place?" Sam asked, grabbing the door in order to remain upright as Dean took a turn at speeds that belonged on the Autobahn rather than middle America suburbia.
"Not with all those people there," Dean said. "But they'll tell us where he might go." Sam nodded before hissing in pain and leaning forward clutching his head. A hallway with concrete floor and orange metal squares. Bright harsh industrial lighting. Sam took a deep breath, looking up before biting back a groan of pain. Gray-sided boxy room. A rolling sound grinded through the silence before the room was flooded in darkness. Breathing heavily, the younger Winchester looked towards his brother; Dean was glancing from the road to Sam worriedly. He had enough to deal with; he didn't need this. "Sam!"
"What the hell man?" Sam ran his hands through his hair, trying to hang onto that desperate shout.
"I think Harry sent me a vision," Sam said carefully, rubbing his forehead. Dean raised an eyebrow.
"What?" Dean asked surprised before his eyes hardened. "What did you see?"
"A concrete room with metal walls," Sam replied. He was glad he had a general idea of where his cousin was but it'd be nice if it didn't come with a splitting headache. Dean nodded grimly as he roared down the street Mitch's house was on.
"His father's storage unit," Dean said. "He took him to his father's storage unit." The Impala screeched to a halt outside the white Victorian and Dean threw open his door bolting towards the house. He banged on the door harshly. "Hey! Jamie!"
The door swung open to reveal the blond woman they'd met earlier. "Agent McKean? What are you doing here?"
"Your brother's storage unit," he said deliberately stepping into the woman's space. "Where is it?"
"What does that have to do—" Jamie asked backing up fearfully.
"Where is it?" Dean was getting more desperate and it showed in his voice. Sam put his hand on his brother's arm pulling him back.
"It's important that we find the unit," Sam said, trying to sound slightly more professional. Jamie sighed before she motioned them inside.
0~*~*~0
Harry groaned in the darkness. Not only was his head killing him from where the bloody wanker knocked him out but sending that vision jacked up his pain. He'd started waking up as he was floating down the hall towards the unit and the fog fully cleared as the door was being rolled shut. Harry had very few options open to him. The spell Hermione had come up with to protect his wand had been brilliant at the time but now it was quite annoying. Due to his headache, he couldn't concentrate on calling his wand to him. He'd never tried to connect with his cousin consciously but he hoped it worked. Dean was going to kill him once he found him. Plus he had a very bad feeling that the pain he was feeling now was nothing compared to what he would feel once the older man began stepping up his training.
Five minutes later, the door was suddenly thrown open and Harry stumbled to his feet, his eyes squinting into the light as he tried to adjust his eyes. A man was pushed forward and he fell at Harry's feet. He appeared to be in his early forties with graying brown hair and large glasses hanging fromhis neck. Behind him, Mitch stood in the doorway, a shocked expression on his face. "You're awake."
"And you're back early," Harry responded his voice a little shaky. There was no way this kid had learned to apparate without a formal magical education so how was he moving around so quickly? The man looked between the two teenagers, opening his mouth but no words came out. Silencing charm.
"Well, portkeys are much easier to learn than apparation, wouldn't you say?" Mitch said, smiling. He strode into the room causing Harry to grab the man and pull him back. The older teen stopped at the sight glaring at the pair. "Do you even know who you're protecting?"
"I don't care," Harry said. "He doesn't deserve to die; he should be tried." Mitch laughed maliciously, a hard glint in his eyes.
"Tried?" he asked sarcastically. "You're joking right?" The man stopped trying to talk and was listening avidly, flinching when Mitch turned towards him. "Don't you see? He's never going to be tried; he's never going to be convicted for his crimes. He's always going to slip through the cracks. But this," he brandished a wand, waving it in front of the pair. "This will make them, make him, pay!"
"Why does it have to be you?" Harry asked, trying to stall. If he could hold out long enough for the brothers to get there or for his magic to heal his headache enough to call his wand back to him, he'd be able to save this man. Mitch's face morphed into a mask of pain and anger.
"You don't know what it's like!" Mitch shouted. "My father beat me for something I couldn't control! Oh, he never got reported because he got better at hiding the bruises! You don't know what it's like to always fear for your life; you don't know the hell I lived through!"
"But this isn't right," Harry responded, trying not to think about his own childhood. "This is murder!"
"This is justice!" Mitch straightened, his emotions burying themselves leaving nothing but stoic calm behind. Harry glanced towards the door; he thought he heard a sound, a shuffling of feet. "I'm surprised you're even fighting this."
"What?" asked Harry. How could he know about that? No one knew about his relatives, not even Ron or Hermione. "What are you talking about?"
"I know who you are," Mitch said beginning to pace in front of the pair. "The Great Harry Potter. You know, I'd thought you'd be taller." He strode forward, ripping the man from Harry's grip before punching the younger boy hard across the face. "You, the man who killed hundreds to protect the innocents, should be beside me in this."
Mitch had seriously lost it Harry decided. "I don't know where you're getting your information from, mate, but I never killed anyone. And I can't let you—" Harry lunged forward despite the pain in his head and face but Mitch was expecting it. He threw a petrificus spell at him and the younger teen felt his legs lock up on him.
"You can't stop me!" Mitch said viciously. "You're just like the rest, a coward, a pampered spoiled coward who couldn't understand what these men do to people!" His body was in pain, he was completely defenseless to this psychotic idiot and there was nothing he could do to stop him from killing that man. Harry felt his anger well up inside him.
"You think you've got it all figured out, huh?" Harry said sarcastically. "You think you're the only one whose family hated them huh? Well, let me tell you something; you're wrong. Maybe I don't know what you went through, but then again maybe I do! But this…what you're doing…you're no better than they are. When you stoop to their level, you become a monster just like them!"
"Shut up!" Mitch shouted, his voice reverberating through the unit. His breath came in harsh pants before he straightened, his breathing evening out forcefully. Mitch's eyes grew hard and cold as he stared down at Harry who realized too late it had never been about saving him. Mitch had killed them all at their houses but he'd brought this man here. Perhaps to set an example, to prove to Harry that he was right, that he wasn't helpless anymore…who cares? The boy was never going to let him live. "I can see this is getting us nowhere. Avada Kedevra!" The flash of green light filled the room. Mitch let go of the dead man's shirt and he slumped to the floor, his face forever twisted in shock and fear. It was over before Harry could even stop it, before he even knew it was happening. "I'm sorry. Avada—" A loud shot rang through the unit. The teenager's eyes bulged slightly, his mouth moving in shock. He stumbled around and saw Sam and Dean standing in the doorway of the unit, guns aimed at him. Blood was soaking through his shirt front and Harry could see the small blossoming hole in his back. He brought his wand hand up but before he could utter a single syllable, his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the floor beside the other man. Harry felt movement return to his legs and he scrambled up.
"Harry?" Dean called across the room. "You alright?"
"I am now," the younger boy responded. He skirted around the two bodies and stood between his cousins, allowing them to check him over for themselves that he was indeed alright. Dean's eyes landed briefly on the steadily forming bruise on his cheek while Sam had a steady hand behind him, noticing the slight wavering in his step. "Can we just get out of here?"
"Yeah, let's go," Dean said. Harry knew they'd come back after he'd been safely deposited in the Impala to deal with the bodies but right now, he just wanted to get away, away from the bad memories the kid had stirred up, away from the death and the accusations, away from his own incompetence. For once, he wouldn't complain about training, Harry wanted to be pushed to his limit. He never wanted to feel that helpless again.