Love, Fate and Prophecy Part Two: Chapter Seven, a Harry Potter + Supernatural Crossover fanfic

Love, Fate and Prophecy

Part Two: Chapter Seven – Too Good to Be True

August 2nd, 1995

John's gun was level at him. Harry knew that with his wand, he might be able to disarm the man, but he didn't want to risk hurting him, despite the terrible words coming out of his mouth. Also, Dean and Sammy were close by and the thought of injuring either of his brothers was too dreadful to take the chance.

"I meant it, Harry. You're not welcome here. You are a freak and a danger to me and my sons. You just aren't normal." He motioned with his gun for Harry to move, directing him towards the staircase. Harry wondered where he had found the word that would hurt him the most.

"Dad, how can you say that to him?" Dean demanded as they entered where the two brothers had been listening just outside the door.

"Dean, stay out of this. Take Sam and go to the car. I mean it – that's an order."

Dean hesitated. "You can't possibly…"

"Dean, now." He replied hardly.

"Yes sir."

Sam found his voice. "This is wrong Dean – dad was going to convince him to stay! He's our brother."

"Dean, do as I say. You too Sam."

Dean dragged a struggling Sam out of the room.

They were in the front entrance hall, where Bobby appeared.

"What's goin' on? I heard shouting."

"Uncle Bobby, dad's gone crazy!" Sam exclaimed. "He's telling Harry he has to go back to England – you have to stop him."

"Dean?" Bobby asked, looking for confirmation.

"I don't know what came over him, Uncle Bobby. Maybe it has something to do with those dementy thingings from earlier… But he has a gun on him – he told Sam and me to go to the car. I don't want to be the reason he hurts Harry."

"He's drawn his gun on a 15-year-old boy? That asshole. You're right Dean, take Sam and go, I'll see if I can reason with him. Did something happen? Did you smell sulfur or see black smoke?

Dean shook his head. "No sir. And he stepped right over a salt line, I don't see how he could be possessed."

Bobby grabbed his gun from the wall. "Alright then, you boys go on outside."

Dean nodded and took Sam with him.

Upstairs, Harry was frantically packing his things, trying his best not to let hot tears of humiliation fall down his face. He supposed he deserved this, for allowing himself to hope… no, it wasn't worth it.

John was still speaking. "You belong to your own kind, although, if it were up to me, we'd hunt the lot of you just like we hunt all the other unnatural, dangerous creatures of this world. You're never to come back, you hear me. If I hear that you've come back into this country or catch sight of you near my boys, I will kill you. No fancy magic powers will be able to save you."

"JOHN WINCHESTER," Bobby shouted. "What in the name of Sam Hill are you saying to that boy? He is your son."

John didn't move his eyes, or gun, off of Harry.

"He might have been once. But he isn't anymore. My second son is dead. He died when he was just hours old. It's better that way."

"What in hell…"

"Don't worry about it, Bobby, I'm going," Harry said harshly, his voice breaking slightly. He grabbed the items in Bobby's hands and started packing some of them as well.

"Harry, something's wrong, this isn't John, don't go."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Clearly it is. I'm sorry Bobby, for intruding this summer, I know time with the boys means a lot to you."

"Harry, you didn't…"

Harry shook his head and interrupted, "Thanks for everything Bobby, take care, and watch out for my brothers for me? You're a better father than him. Portus."

He vanished from the room with a pop. He never noticed the faint blue glow behind his father's eyes.

Several Weeks Earlier

The brothers awoke to the sound of a camera clicking. They slowly blinked their eyes. The three of them had fallen asleep in the very early hours of the morning, from a sugar crash. But the way they fell asleep was why there had to be photographic evidence. Dean was in the middle, with his younger brothers on either side of him. Harry's head was using his chest as a pillow while Sam's head was on his stomach.

"That is just too damn cute," Bobby said, shaking out a polaroid. "Look at the three of you, all snuggled together."

Dean was the first to realize what was going on, as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "What the hell?" He asked. "Sam, Harry, get off me!" He said in the deepest, manliest voice he could muster as a sixteen-year-old.

Harry scrambled off while Sam tried to snuggle in closer. "Mmm, but you're so soft, Dean." Another click of the camera.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as Dean stood up and shouted, "Uncle Bobby! Stop taking pictures! I'm gonna kill you…"

"You'll have to catch me first," Bobby said as he quickly hustled out of the room. Dean snarled but didn't go after him. He'd find those pictures later and destroy them.

Dean turned to his brothers, now both fully awake. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked gruffly. "Clean this mess up!"

He left the room muttering – Harry and Sam looked at each other before bursting into laughter.

"I heard that!" Dean yelled from the other room. It didn't help – if anything, they laughed louder.

A couple of hours later, it was once again Sam and Harry alone while Dean was out working on cars. Harry was working on his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework (set by Dumbledore, because, of course, seeing as Barty Crouch Jr. hadn't gotten the privilege) while Sam was reading through Harry's copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Now that he knew what to expect, the books appeared exactly as they should and in plain English.

The book had done it's intended purpose of distracting Sam to keep him from asking Harry about ten million questions, as he normally did whenever the older boy was trying to do his homework. He was fascinated to learn the differences between wizarding creatures and muggle ones. A magical werewolf (a wizard that had been turned into a werewolf) was quite different from a muggle one, at least according to this text – it didn't seem like the wizarding variety ate hearts specifically.

"Harry, what's it like to go to Hogwarts?"

Harry set down his pen. "In what way, specifically? I know we've talked about it before. It's probably not all that different from the schools you attend."

Sam leveled a looked at Harry. "Seriously? From what I've read of your textbooks and what you've said, it's not the same at all!"

"Well…maybe not entirely. But I go to class and, as you can see, do homework. Sometimes it's really boring."

"But you get to stay in one place and study and hang out with all of your friends all day."

"I do," Harry said measurably. "And, honestly, Hogwarts has been my home ever since I started going there. I love the castle and my friends, but it's not the same Sam, as having a family. A real blood family."

"Family's overrated," Sam muttered.

"Is something wrong Sam? Did Dean do something to upset you?"

"No. It's just – I want to just be a normal kid. Go to school, come home, do homework, all preferably in the same place for more than a couple of months at a time."

"Ah – well I wouldn't call anything about my life normal. But have you ever told Dad that's how you feel?"

Sam sighed. "Like a million times – and I always get the same lecture from both him and Dean. About how hunting is our job and we have to protect people. Sometimes I wish…"

Harry knew exactly what he wished, and he certainly could relate. Sam looked so distressed; Harry wondered if he had ever really had the chance to talk to someone about his feelings before.

"Sam, what have dad and Dean told you about… about me and the wizarding world?"

Sam looked surprised. "Uh – not a lot. But you have to be pretty famous for Pastor Jim to have known who you are from the scar on your forehead."

Harry nodded grimly. "They call me The-Boy-Who-Lived."

"Why?"

"Because the wizard who killed my parents tried to kill me with a curse that no one has ever survived before and – well, as you can see, it didn't take. And he vanished. I was only a little over a year old and everyone, well everyone expects me to be a hero."

Sam didn't say anything, so Harry continued. "But then I came here this summer. And with you and Dean, Dad and Bobby, I've just gotten to be…me. I'm dying to know what is happening in Britain, and I know I have my part to play, but just knowing that afterward, I have a family to come back to somehow makes it easier. It's hard to explain."

"I know, I should be grateful…" Sam said somewhat miserably.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all! I'm rubbish at this whole big brother thing. What I'm trying to say, Sam is that I can see how you feel stuck, and understand what that feels like. But we're family, and, honestly, I don't care what road you choose. And the choice is ultimately yours. At the end of whatever journey dad has set off whether or not you chose to go with him or stray off, I will be there."

Sam wasn't sure if anyone had ever told him that it didn't matter if he became a hunter before. Not Dean and certainly not his dad. He wiped some tears from his eyes and swallowed the knot in his throat.

"You promise?" He asked misty-eyed.

Harry looked him straight in the eyes. "I promise."

Sam believed him.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Harry Potter," Sirius said into the mirror. He waited a couple of minutes. "Harry Potter," he said again, with a little more urgency.

Harry's face appeared in the mirror. "Sirius? Why are you calling so late – it's nearly three in the morning there, isn't it? Has Voldemort attacked? Is everyone ok?"

"Everyone's fine. But we need to talk, are you alone?"

Harry looked up from his place at the dinner table: Sam, Dean, and Bobby all staring at him.

"Uh, no, but I could go someplace more private…"

"Please do. Right now." There was a harshness to his tone that surprised Harry. It also pissed off Bobby and Dean.

"So that's your godfather, eh?" Bobby asked. "Nice guy."

"Er – he's not usually like this. Would you all excuse me a moment?"

Bobby waved him off. Harry went up to the bedroom and closed the door.

"What's going on Sirius?" He asked worriedly.

"I just got out of a meeting with Dumbledore, and he had some disturbing news."

There was a pause, Harry waiting for his godfather to continue. "Was it about Voldemort?"

"No. He got a letter from the Headmaster of Ilvermorny. Harry, the letter said that John had met with him to see about you transferring in."

That surprised Harry. And oddly, made him feel a warm glow inside. John wanted him to stay.

"Did you know about this?" Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't. Did he tell the headmaster that I was here?"

"No, no. The letter talked about Henry Winchester. Harry, you know you can't stay, right? Lily and James – they may have originally wanted you to go back to your birth parents, and I promised them, on my honor that I would see you back in the States. I've done that now – but they knew that this war was more important than your American family, it's why they kept you for as long as they did. You have to come home."

"But –"

"No buts, Harry. We have an obligation. It's terrible, I know, but James and Lily gave their lives to this war. Other than you, defeating Voldemort was the only thing they cared about. It's a dishonor to their memories for you to try and back out."

That hurt. "If I'm so important to this war, then WHY IN THE BLOODY HELL HASN'T ANYONE TOLD ME ANYTHING ALL SUMMER? And, also, I'm not trying to back out, but Sirius, the Winchesters, they are my family."

"I'm your family Harry. I broke out of Azkaban to protect you. And we'll fill you in when you return home."

Harry laughed hollowly. "Why wait?"

"Dumbledore has his reasons." There was a little bitterness in his tone.

"I'm sure he does! Why doesn't he talk to me himself then? If it's so important that I come back." It wasn't even that Harry didn't have every intention of returning to Hogwarts, but being told that he had no choice, it didn't sit well with him.

"Dumbledore is a busy man, Harry James. He asked me to speak to you on his behalf. Harry, I know you understand what needs to be done. And while your cover is still held in the US, it's not going to last forever. Voldemort will try to reach you, even if you're in another country. And Dumbledore can't protect you there the way he can here and at Hogwarts. I can't protect you if you're in the States. Your family will not be safe if he discovers them. Voldemort will not only use their deaths to hurt you, he would relish in it. If you get found out, and you will, he will go after your family and they won't stand a chance against him."

Harry sighed. He knew that was true and his heart sunk. The Winchesters may be new to him, but endangering them was his worst possible nightmare.

"I understand Sirius, I'll come back to the UK, as planned, don't worry."

"You promise Harry?"

"I promise." It was his second promise of the day, but this one caused a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Good. I better be getting to bed then, you too Harry. Good night."

"Night."

Harry wanted nothing more than to shatter the mirror, but he knew it would be of no use. There was no contradicting Dumbledore. And if another family died because of him… he didn't think he could stand it.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Well after Sam and Dean had fallen asleep, Harry crept down to the kitchen, his mind racing far too much to settle down for the night. He sat down at the kitchen table with a glass of water to brood over what Sirius had said to him. The light flicked on. It was Bobby.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked gruffly.

Harry frowned. "No."

"Yeah, I understand that. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Bobby sat across from him at the table. "I think you might need to. What did your godfather say to you?" His inflection on the word godfather made it sound like a curse word.

"Nothing much. Just reminded me of my duty."

"And what duty is that?"

"To the wizarding world – to my family. He told me that I have to finish what my parents started."

"Bullshit."

Harry looked up at that. "No, you don't understand, my parents, Lily and James, they fought Voldemort. It was their mission in life to see him defeated. I'm the only one that's ever done it."

"So that means you're the only one that can do so now?"

"I guess so," Harry said miserably.

"Bull-fucking-shit. Harry, how old are you?"

"Almost fifteen," he muttered.

"That's right, you have a birthday coming up. You know what you should be worried about as a fifteen-year-old? Girls. Graduating from high school. What you're going to wear to the prom."

"Wizards don't have proms."

"That doesn't matter. Anyone who puts the weight of the world on the shoulders of a teenager has something seriously wrong with them."

"Does that include John?" Harry asked, insightfully.

Bobby grunted. "Yeah, that includes your Daddy. The training he puts you boys through – the pressure he puts on Dean, the expectations he lays on Sam. They're not right. And neither is it right for you. For god's sake, you're children. There has to be another way."

"But what if there isn't?" It was a quiet question.

"Then let it be someone else's problem. Harry, I've known your dad for a long time. If you don't want to return to the UK, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want you to either, you don't have to go. He'll protect you. I'll protect you. Hell, from the way Dean's been treatin' you these days, I'm pretty sure they'd have to go through him as well."

"That's what I'm worried about," Harry said, dejected. "I don't want to put their lives at risk. Sirius is right, they'd be better off without me."

"Now you listen here, young man." Bobby snapped, getting Harry's attention. "The lives of the Winchester family are not in your shoulders. Anyone who says otherwise is a fool and an ass. You people are plenty talented at creating your own kind of trouble. You hear me?"

Harry nodded. It was weird to hear himself included in the Winchester family, but it still felt…right.

"Good. Now, we can talk about this more in the morning. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

"Alright." Harry hesitated a moment. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He snorted. "It ain't nothing but common sense. But you're welcome."

The middle Winchester left.

"I know you're there Dean, you might as well come out."

Dean entered the kitchen, somewhat sheepishly.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it. I know that he was having a tough time after the conversation with his godfather, I wanted to be sure he was alright."

"Of course, you did."

"Uncle Bobby, did you mean what you said about Dad?"

"Every word. He puts too much on you – and I've told him so myself."

Dean gave a short laugh. "I bet that went well."

Bobby also laughed. "Yeah, it went about as well as could be expected. But I mean it. You're a child, and so are your brothers. You don't deserve to have the weight of the world thrust on you."

"Dad only gives me what I can handle," he said defensively.

Bobby just looked sad. "You shouldn't have to handle any of it. But your daddy is doing what he thinks is right by you, even though I disagree. This godfather of Harry's – it's sounds like he did quite the number on him."

"Yeah, it does. What can I do?"

Bobby shook his head. "Just be his brother. Let your father and me worry about the rest."

"Alright. 'Night Bobby."

"Goodnight Dean."

Bobby wasn't about to leave the safety of any of the Winchester boys to chance. He was a paranoid bastard, after all, and the thought that wizards could remove memories…was alarming. He had already written himself several letters, hidden in a special book, but he decided to write another. Just in case.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Birthdays, as a rule, were not usually a big deal for the Winchesters. More often than not, it would be Sam and Dean alone in a motel room, quietly celebrating together. A slice of pie for Dean, a small, often stolen, gift for Sam. Neither one of them even knew when John's birthday was. However, it had been made clear to both brothers that Harry had never even had that much for his birthday. Once he started Hogwarts, sure, he might get some presents from his friends, but never an actual celebration with family. Sam and Dean were determined that his first birthday with them would be more special.

Granted, the sixteen- and twelve-year-old boy version of special probably differed from what others might do, it is the effort that counts.

Dean, for one, had made it a point to call his father every single day to make sure that he would be back in time. The latest had been a, "God-damn it, Dean, I said I'll be there, so I will be. Don't call again," before an abrupt hang-up. Dean had, of course, called again the next day.

Sam had been sneaky. He carefully went through Harry's bag to find his passport so he knew the exact day to celebrate. Also, under the guise of asking her more questions about Hogwarts, he had snuck the mirror out of the room to ask Hermione about Harry's favorite things. She told him that Harry's favorite was treacle tart and given him a recipe. (Sam enjoyed his chats with Hermione – and thought she might the prettiest and smartest girl he had ever spoken with.)

He had also learned that Harry loved flying, playing chess, and the colors red and gold because of his house. Bobby had also been recruited to pick up decorations – much to his amusement and dismay. He wasn't quite sure how the boys managed to rope him in on this whole scheme, but he supposed if anyone deserved a nice party, it would be Harry. It had the bonus of, when he was arguing with the local grocery store baker about treacle tart and the availability of ingredients, that he ran into Officer Mills. She had initially come over to see what the shouting was about, and by explaining to her that this was all for a birthday party for Harry, that helped allay some of her fears.

In the end, he had returned to his house with red vines, yellow streamers, red balloons, and a plan to by a pre-made store cake in the next town over, because the baker at their store refused to talk to him again. He had shoved them at Sam in a paper bag before stomping off to his garage.

A couple of days later, just in time, the sound of the Impala driving over the gravel of the driveway could be heard. Sam was currently distracting Harry by asking him to describe Quidditch while Dean was on the lookout downstairs.

"Dad!" Dean called out, as his father stepped out of the car. "You made it."

John looked at his eldest. "I said I would," he said crossing his arms. "Not that you believed me." Pastor Jim stepped out of the other side of the car.

"Were you able to find what you needed so Harry can stay?" He asked anxiously. " 'Cause I've been talking to him and I think it is worse for him than we originally thought."

John sighed. "I think so, but it ain't going to be easy." Dean nodded - nothing ever was when it came to their family. "Now, I believe that there is a birthday party happening inside?"

"There is. Just wait until you see what Sammy did to Uncle Bobby's kitchen."

John smiled and the three of them headed inside.

If Harry didn't know any better, he would say that Sam was up to something. He had never really shown interest in the mechanics of Quidditch in the past, but he had kept Harry talking for about half an hour now.

"Dad's home!" Dean yelled up the stairs.

Sam grinned. "Let's go see him!"

The two of them went downstairs to the kitchen. As the entered, Bobby, John, Pastor Jim, Dean, and Sam all yelled, "Surprise!"

Harry was a bit blown away. There were yellow streamers taped up to the kitchen cupboards and red balloons, also taped at random intervals. On the table, there was a cake that said, "Happy Birthday!" on it and a couple of presents. Sam was beaming like a cat who caught the canary at the look of surprise on his brother's face. Dean was a little embarrassed by the childish décor. Harry was shocked.

"Wow. Er – thank you. My birthday is coming up in a couple of days." He didn't want to outright say that they were three days off. Sam's face fell a little.

"But your passport says that your birthday is July 28th!"

Harry thought about it. "Oh right, how strange. I forgot that my American birthday was three days earlier."

"And I can confirm that you were born on the 28th, Harry, seeing as I was there." John supplied.

"Oh, right then. Well thank you – this is, this is great." He didn't have the words to express how this little surprise party made him feel. It was literally the nicest thing anyone in his family had ever done for him.

Sam smiled wide again. "Presents! You have to open your presents! And then blow out your candles, of course. We couldn't get any treacle tart, Uncle Bobby pissed the baker off too much, so he got a chocolate cake instead. I hope that's alright."

Harry blinked. "Yeah, chocolate cake is great. I can't believe you got me presents - you didn't have to."

"We wanted to Harry," said Pastor Jim.

"And don't get too excited, they ain't much," Bobby said gruffly.

Harry didn't care as long as they weren't anyone's old pair of socks. He reached for the first one, a little embarrassed. He had never opened birthday gifts in front of anyone before, and Christmas was different because everyone had presents to open.

"Oooh, that one's mine," Sam said. Harry started opening the paper carefully. "Just rip it already!" Sam exclaimed.

Harry grinned and followed instructions. It was a package of Red Vines. "Thanks, Sammy, these are my favorite."

The next felt like a book. It was from Bobby – a primer on fighting demons. "It's in Latin, and I figure since you said that demons don't go after wizards that you might want some more information."

"Thanks, Bobby." He was interested in demons, to a degree. They had briefly been mentioned in History of Magic as a muggle problem – as they couldn't possess wizards and their powers could rarely match those of an educated witch or wizard. Harry didn't know it, but the book also contained a couple of polaroid pictures Bobby had taken of the boys over the last couple of weeks.

Next a plastic grocery bag, from Dean, with a dark green cargo jacket. "Uh – you don't seem to have many winter clothes," he said, self-conscious about the gift, as the jacket had once been his, "and we tend to be in real cold places, thought it might be useful."

Harry recognized the jacket as something either of his brothers might wear, which made him feel more a part of the family. "It's great, thank you."

Next, another book, this one from Pastor Jim. A Guide to No-Maj America. "This gives you more information about the wizarding culture here in the US more than no-majes, who are quite similar to those in the UK."

Harry nodded his thanks. That was all the gifts on the table, but John reached into his jacket and pulled out a brown paper bag. "I didn't have a chance to wrap it, but here you go, happy birthday son."

Harry took the bag and pulled out a handgun. It was the same handgun that John had already given to him. He raised his eyebrows.

"Look at the handle," John instructed. Harry did. On the silver part, there were two initials. "H.W." It made a knot swell in Harry's throat.

"Thanks," he managed to croak out.

"Maybe this will help you remember not to leave it at the house. Ever." John said pointedly.

"Right – yeah, I'll keep it on me. Dean's been showing me how to use it."

"Good," said John, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Cake now!" Sam called out, ending the moment between father and son. "I'll light the candles, then we all have to sing…"

The rest of the evening was filled with eating cake, laughing, and watching movies. Harry could honestly say that it was the best birthday he ever had – and that included the one where he found out he was a wizard. He should have known that it was too good to be true.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Zachariah, it's time for you to find your host. This situation has progressed far further than it ever should have. We can't risk the fate of the Winchester brothers with one of them." Michael was angry. This was not the Plan. He had one more trick up his sleeve, but should it not work out, it was time to take direct action.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Later that evening, John pulled Harry aside from everyone else. "I have one more present for you, Harry," he said.

Harry was surprised. "But I've already gotten so much…"

"You haven't, truly. But I'm not sure you're going to like this one." He handed his middle child a letter – on parchment. Harry opened it and read aloud.

"Dear Mr. Winchester,

I am pleased to inform you that your transfer to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been approved. Please see the enclosed supplies list…."

"Is this an acceptance letter to Ilvermorny?" Harry asked, somewhat stupidly.

"Yeah, it is. I've given it a lot of thought Harry. You're not safe in the UK, with that Lord Volermory,"

"Voldemort," Harry corrected.

"Whatever, him. You are not safe from him. And I've read that book about your time at Hogwarts, and I'm not too impressed at the track level of safety there."

"Oh, I'm sure that was exaggerated…" Harry tried to deflect.

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't. Jim and I did a decent amount of talking and Harry, what you've had to face, already, is completely unacceptable. I can't send you back."

While that was nice, he supposed, Harry didn't think John had any choice in the matter. And neither did he. "You don't understand…" he started.

John glared. "I understand that my son isn't safe where he has been living. And that is unacceptable."

"But what about hunting with Sam and Dean? Isn't that dangerous?" Harry could feel his indignation grow.

"Sam and Dean never go hunting alone. Sam doesn't do anything but salt n' burns. In any case, they are always with me, and I keep them safe. I train them, yes, but only on cases that are cut and dry. If I have one inkling of doubt, neither goes. But this isn't about Sam and Dean. This is about you."

"You don't understand, I have a responsibility…"

"A responsibility of what? To defeat a wizard with half a century's more experience than you? A wizard that your headmaster can't defeat?"

"Well, Dumbledore could, I'm sure if he wanted…"

"No. If he wanted to, and if he could, I'm sure he would have." John was getting frustrated. "Have you ever asked yourself why it's you? You, a fifteen-year-old child?"

Harry stiffened. "I'm not a child. And there are…reasons." Talking about the power of his mother's love didn't seem very sound at the moment. Plus, John simply didn't understand Harry's place in the wizarding world.

"Harry, there is a difference between not being allowed to be a child and not being one. You are a child, my child. It is my responsibility to protect you."

Harry scoffed. "And how are you going to do that? How can you possibly protect me from Voldemort? He's coming for me, I know it, I can feel it. He certainly has before. And if I'm here, when he does, then I am putting your life in danger. And Dean's and Sam's."

"That is not your concern, that is mine. I am the adult here."

"YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A POWERLESS MUGGLE!" Harry shouted. "If I'm at Ilvermorny, you can hardly protect me there. What, you going to bring Dean and Sam and move in with me while I attend classes?"

"It isn't ideal. But I'd be able to check in on you – get to you if I needed to. But, Harry, I'm sorry, you seem to think this is a discussion. It's not. You are staying in the United States. You will be attending Ilvermorny. End of story."

"YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT," Harry yelled.

"I think you'll find that I do. I am your father Harry, and I know what's best. Now, it's late, you should be getting to bed."

Harry spun around and left the room. John didn't understand, and honestly, Dumbledore would never allow him to stay, even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. He probably didn't. Harry shook off the feeling. It wasn't safe for him to stay. He wasn't safe. It made him sad, but he was going to have to take the portkey home now. He didn't know what would happen if he didn't.

Heart racing, he pounded up the stairs. Dean and Sam weren't in the room – but Pastor Jim was. Harry looked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing here?"

John came in the doorframe behind Harry.

"Harry, I asked Jim to remove your magical items – except your wand, of course, you should keep that on you at all times. He said that you likely had some sort of transportation device that would take you home. He's also taken the mirror."

"WHAT?" Harry yelled - louder than he thought he had ever yelled in his life. "WHERE DID YOU PUT MY THINGS, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT."

"Harry, I know you're upset," Pastor Jim started.

"UPSET? YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ME UPSET!" Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the pastor. "Give me back my stuff, now."

Jim put his hands up. "I don't have them here with me, and even if I did, I wouldn't. They've been locked away for safekeeping. Now, put down your wand, I know that you won't hurt me. Or John."

Harry wasn't sure that he agreed. He was ready to hex both of them seven different ways. Harry rushed over to his suitcase to see what had been taken.

"You took my BROOM? And my CLOAK?! YOU GIVE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW, THAT'S THE ONLY PIECE OF MY FATHER THAT I HAVE LEFT." Harry could feel his magic surging, and he didn't want to tamper it down – lights flickered.

"Harry, your father is standing right behind you." Pastor Jim said, calmly.

"That man is NOT my father. He's just an ASSHOLE muggle who doesn't know anything." Harry was about to blast his way out of the room and do an inch-by-inch search of the house if need be, but Sam appeared behind John. He looked hurt at Harry's comment.

"You can't mean that Harry," he said.

"Look, Sam…"

"Sam, go downstairs and stay with Dean and Bobby. Like I told you to."

"But Dad, Harry's…"

"Go, now."

Sam went, dejected. That conversation was enough to put a small hole in Harry's anger. He didn't want to hurt his brothers.

"Fine. Take my stuff. Just you wait – Dumbledore and Sirius will come for me if I don't go home and I don't answer the mirror."

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," John said evenly, thinking that he had more than enough guns to keep the men away from his child. Jim and Missouri were also looking into some wards that could be applied if need be.

"I'm going to have Jim take Sam and Dean to his house tonight, to give you time to cool off. We'll talk more in the morning." John said. Jim stood up to leave too. Harry glared. There was no point in hexing them now – let them think that he'd cooled down, he'd find his stuff and leave here as soon as possible. He'd be out of here by his real birthday.

xXxXxXxXxXx

The next few days were the worst. Dean knew Harry would be pissed, but he didn't realize how angry he would be. He and Harry had quibbled a lot at the beginning of the summer, but he had never seen the full force of his brother's anger. There was lots of shouting. And a lot of burnt-out lightbulbs. Several electronics had to be replaced because Harry's magic exploded them in fits of anger.

Harry also spent much of his waking moments searching the house for his things, when he thought John or Bobby weren't watching. Dean happened to know that they were in a magically-warded safe provided by Pastor Jim in the basement, but it was worth more than his life to tell Harry that.

Sam was pretty distressed at the turn of events. Harry was still perfectly civil to his brothers, but all the joy and levity had gone. They'd hang out, watch tv and movies together, Sam would ask questions, but it was clear that Harry's heart wasn't into it anymore. And Sam understood, he had wanted to run away from this lifestyle on several occasions, and he had even done so successfully last summer, but he had thought that Harry liked them. He had thought that he would stay, and honestly, selfishly, Sam believed having another brother around would make his life easier. Not being the sole focus of Dean and his father had been refreshing. But the glum, angry, angsty version of his brother was less than fun.

Harry also refused to take part in any more hunter drills. One morning, Sam had come into the bedroom (where Harry was spending most of his time - when he wasn't wandering around the house trying to accio his things) and said hesitantly, "Hey Harry, Dad says it's time for some drills - he wants us on the front porch in ten minutes."

Harry snorted. "No."

Sam looked surprised. "You can't say no!"

"Maybe you can't. But what's he going to do? You can't force someone to run. Well, muggles can't at any rate."

Sam was flabbergasted. While he argued with his father regularly, he didn't have the nerve to outright refuse.

"Alright then." He left.

Dean saw his youngest brother come down the stairs. He raised an eyebrow. "Is Harry on his way?"

Sam shook his head. "No, he says that Dad can't force him."

That riled Dean up a bit. "We'll just have to see about that," he said, a hard tone setting in. He went upstairs. Unlike Sam, he wasn't hesitant when he barged into the room.

"Harry," he said, "porch - 8 minutes. It's time for drills."

Harry glared and off handily used an expression he had picked up from Dean. "Bite me."

"Dad says it's time for drills, that means you get your ass downstairs for drills."

"What's he going to do if I don't?" Harry challenged.

"Uh… he will… he'll be mad." Honestly, Dean didn't know. Neither he nor Sam had put up this kind of fight before.

Harry snorted. "Good." He started flipping through a book in front of him.

Dean was at a total loss. Sure that Harry would listen to his father, he left and went downstairs, not wanting to be late himself.

When he arrived on the porch, where Sam was stretching, his father looked at him.

"Where's your brother?" He asked sternly.

"He said he wouldn't come. Rudely."

A stormy look crossed John's face, a look that both Sam and Dean knew that he meant business. He had put up with a lot from his middle son the last couple of days – far more than he would have allowed out of his other two, and he had had enough. This temper tantrum was going to have to come to an end. Soon. "You two - start laps," he commanded as he stomped inside and headed up the stairs. Harry was on his bed, reading a book.

"Harry. It's time for drills. Now. You've already earned yourself an extra ten pushups for talking back to Dean."

Harry didn't even look up when he said, "Nope."

"Henry Winchester. I am your father. If you don't participate in drills, you won't be allowed on hunting trips with your brothers and me." This was the threat that always worked on Sam.

"Don't care," he responded, still not looking up, "don't want to go anywhere with you anyway."

John could feel his face redden. "I'll make Sam and Dean do extra laps and pushups to make up for your misbehavior." This was the threat that would have worked on Dean. (But he had never had to use it for his eldest.) It got Harry to look up. And made the lights flicker slightly in the room.

"You'll punish Sam and Dean for my refusal to play your silly drill games? Wow, you're the father of the year, aren't you? What's next? Locking me in a cupboard? Denying all of us food? Well, I've had both and worse, so do yours," he said coolly, going back to the book. While Harry didn't want his brothers to suffer for his actions, he was pretty determined not to give in.

That felt like a gut punch to John. He was tough on his boys, yes, but to be compared to his middle child's abusive family put a dent in his normally iron will.

"No TV or outings at all until you participate," he said, sounding lame, even to himself.

Harry scoffed. "Fine. Is that all?"

John didn't respond, just went back downstairs. He'd have to figure out another way to get Harry to comply.

Later that week, the three brothers were sitting on the front porch – watching a summer thunderstorm pass through. Since Harry wasn't allowed to watch TV, or read books or do his homework (privileges taken away with each refusal to participate in mandatory drills) his brothers had decided to sit on the porch with him in solidarity. The weather had been a bit grey and dreary all day, which did not improve the moods of any of the boys.

John had stuck around and not left on another hunt. He said it was because he wanted to spend time with his sons but all three of them knew it was because he was watching Harry like a hawk. Even now, he was just inside – where he could see the boys but also continue with some research he had been working on.

"Harry, I don't understand, we've had such a good time this summer, why do you want to leave?"

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Here we go again,' he thought, giving Harry a side-eye, hoping this didn't lead to an explosion, as it had in the past. (Occasionally, an actual explosion – even though Harry had offered to buy him a new one, Bobby was still a little bitter about his TV.)

Harry had begun to ignore the question lately, but today he was feeling a bit beat down. And he didn't feel like yelling at his younger brother, or anyone, anymore. Plus, those puppy eyes…

"We have had a good time this summer, Sammy. And, if I can work things out with John," ('fat chance' he thought), "I can come back other summers. But there's a war brewing back home, and I can't leave my friends to fight it alone."

"A war?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, not elaborating because Dean was giving him the kill sign behind Sam.

"If I were anyone else, or this was any other time, I would stay in a heartbeat, Sam. I like having brothers. And John can be…tolerable, I suppose." Harry had reverted to refusing to call John dad. Dean found this insubordinate, but he kept that thought to himself. Sam had already gotten very attached to Harry and looked up to him. Dean didn't doubt that Dad would win in the end, but if he didn't, and Harry went home, Dean wasn't sure that he'd be able to forgive his brother for hurting Sam.

Sam just looked sad, which hurt both his brothers. A chill ran through the air, and darkness fell suddenly. Harry, sat up, alert.

"Do you feel that?" he asked his brothers.

"Yeah," Dean said, "but it's beginning to cool down for the night… wait." Another blast of cold and Dean suddenly felt really sad. Almost in tears level of sadness. Sam was crying. Harry's face had gone grey.

"Sam, Dean, get inside." He said, with almost a perfect impression of their father. The wind picked up and Harry drew his wand and discarded his bracelet.

"Sam, go get Dad," Dean ordered, not leaving Harry out there by himself.

"What is it?" He asked his brother.

"Dementors." Harry could see them now – three of them coming down the alleys of cars in formation.

"What are those?" Dean couldn't see anything at all.

"Soul eating wizard monsters. I can take them, Dean, get inside."

Harry sprinted off the porch, towards whatever invisible, evil creature was out there. Dean swore and grabbed his gun, running after his brother. John was close behind.

"Harry, Dean, get back here!" He yelled, trying to dash out in front of his boys, gun at the ready. He couldn't see anything either, but he could follow Harry's gaze. He felt the same way that he did the night Mary died – he could practically hear her screams. If he hadn't been so scared for his son's lives, he would have dropped to the ground with the grief of it all.

He fired his gun into the air and heard a screeching sound. He'd hit something, even if he couldn't see it.

"Expecto patronum!" Harry yelled. A bright light came shooting out of his wand, towards the creatures, John supposed. More screeching. This must not have been the first time that Harry had fought these.

John lost his focus when he practically tripped over Dean, who was lying on the ground, sobbing.

"Are you ok son?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Harry.

Dean couldn't seem to get anything out, just mumbles. John felt an arm on his back and he turned around quickly, ready to shoot anything coming at him.

"Relax, John, it's me," Bobby said, also with a shotgun in his hands. "What are those things? I can't see a damn thing."

"I don't know – but look, Harry's running after them! Bobby –"

"I'll take care of Dean, get him back into the house, you go after your boy."

John took off, as quickly as he could, shooting wildly into the air.

Harry managed to chase two of them off, but the third dashed behind some cars and circled around. He could see that it was heading back towards the house when he ran straight into John.

"Harry what are you thinking? Those things – what are they?"

"Dad, no time," Harry said, not even catching his slip. "One's headed back to the house. These things, they suck all of the happiness out of you and, once they've done that, the suck out your soul."

John's eyes widened. "The boys!" He exclaimed and the two of them ran back together, matching each other stride for stride.

Bobby was no longer next to Dean where John had left them. He was frozen to where he stood, staring into space, a look of total devastation on his face.

"Bobby where's Dean?" John asked desperately. Bobby didn't answer, but Harry saw one of the dementors swoop down closer to the porch. He went running, and John followed.

Dean was prone on the ground, with the dementor just above him, inching closer and closer to Dean's face.

"No!" Harry yelled. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" trying to think of every happy moment he could summon up. Building a fort with his brothers, finding a father who loved him, birthday presents…

The Dementor let out another shriek and went flying off. It was like a fog had lifted. Dean began to wake up. "What happened…."

"Don't worry about it," John said. "I'm going to go get Bobby, Harry, take your brother inside." John watched faintly as Harry helped Dean into the house. But he wasn't John anymore. While Harry had been scaring off the last Dementor, a voice had come to John.

'John Winchester,' it said. 'I can feel your fear. Harry didn't make it in time, Dean's soul is gone and he is going to die, and then Sam, and finally Harry. You are going to lose all of your children today.'

'What?' John asked, the real fear he had felt from the presence of the dementors sinking into him.

'They will all die. But I can help.'

'Who are you?'

'I'm an Angel of the Lord. If you let me, I can save your family.'

That was all that John wanted in the entire world. And with the effect of the dementors, he didn't question it. 'What do you need me to do?'

'Just say yes, I'll take over your body and save your family. Then I'll leave, and you won't be any the wiser.'

'And they'll all be alright, the boys, Bobby?'

'They will be restored and in perfect health.'

'Yes, then,' John said, not hesitating at all. And then he knew nothing.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Don't worry about it," John said. "I'm going to go get Bobby, Harry, take your brother inside."

Harry, for once, didn't hesitate to do what he was told. He helped Dean up, slung his arm over his shoulder, and bore his brother's weight until they got to the kitchen, where Sam was waiting, anxiously.

"What's going on? Where are Dad and Bobby? Is Dean ok?" He shot off.

"Sam, get chocolate now."

That confused him. "What?"

"Chocolate. Anything. Any of my cake left? The chocolate candy from a couple of weeks ago? Chocolate milk? Anything. It helps."

Sam was fairly used to strange orders, so he followed them because Harry's tone of voice had been that serious. He pulled some candy out of the cupboards and gave them to his brother.

"Help me feed these to him," Harry said. "And eat one yourself as well."

Sam unwrapped some of the chocolate and proceeded to coax Dean into eating one. Dean hadn't said a word since arriving in the kitchen and looked to be in a daze. The chocolate revitalized him a bit.

John and Bobby came into the kitchen, passing over the salt line created by Sam earlier. They looked terrible. "Sam, get them some chocolate too."

Sam did as he was told. Bobby was surprised but when the warmth of the chocolate flooded over him, he finally understood and started shoving it down his mouth.

"You too Harry," Sam said, after experiencing the rejuvenating food. Harry nodded and ate some as well – his pulse finally slowing down.

"What in hell's name were those things?" Bobby asked when he could finally speak again.

"They were Dementors," Harry said. "They're evil."

"No kiddin', but what did they do to us?"

"They are dark creatures. They feed on the happiness of people, and they drain you of all of your happy memories and your good feelings. Until you are a husk of a person, then they take your soul."

There was a shudder throughout the whole room.

They all sat around for a good half an hour, just eating the candy and slowly coming back to themselves.

John, who seemed the most composed, and hadn't said anything since getting back into the house, finally spoke.

"Bobby are you well enough to go get Harry's things from the safe?"

Everyone looked very surprised. Bobby assumed that he wanted a moment alone with his boys. Which was fine by him, there was whiskey on the way to the basement, which he felt he needed more than chocolate. And maybe he was finally going to take his advice and listen to Harry.

John turned to Sam and Dean. "I need you to give us the room," he said to them, somewhat coldly. That surprised them, but something seemed off, so they both stood right outside the kitchen door.

"Harry, we need to talk," he said as the other two left the room. Harry looked up. "I think the wizards were right."

"I'm sorry what?"

"They were right. You don't belong in this family."

Harry looked into John's eyes to see if this was some kind of joke. He saw nothing in them.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." He said, quietly.

"You don't belong. But it's not because we're a danger to you. It's because you're a danger to us. Tonight proved that. You're a freak and I don't want you anywhere near my sons." He drew out his gun. "I want you to go upstairs and pack your things. Bobby is bringing up your other items, it's time for you to go."

"Dad, how can you say that to him?" Dean demanded as they entered where the two brothers had been listening just outside the door.

"Dean, stay out of this. Take Sam and go to the car. I mean it – that's an order."

Dean hesitated. "You can't possibly…"

"Dean, now." He replied hardly.

"Yes sir."

Sam found his voice. "This is wrong Dean – dad was going to convince him to stay! He's our brother."

"Dean, do as I say. You too Sam."

Dean dragged a struggling Sam out of the room.

They were in the front entrance hall, where Bobby appeared.

"What's goin' on? I heard shouting."

"Uncle Bobby, dad's gone crazy!" Sam exclaimed. "He's telling Harry he has to go back to England – you have to stop him."

"Dean?" Bobby asked, looking for confirmation.

"He's drawn his gun on a 15-year-old boy? That asshole. You're right Dean, take Sam and go, I'll see if I can reason with him. Did something happen? Did you smell sulfur or see black smoke?

Dean shook his head. "No sir. And he stepped right over a salt line, I don't see how he could be possessed."

Bobby grabbed his gun from the wall. "Alright then, you boys go on outside."

Dean nodded and took Sam with him.

"JOHN WINCHESTER," Bobby shouted. "What in the name of Sam Hill are you saying to that boy? He is your son."

John didn't move his eyes, or gun, off of Harry.

"He might have been once. But he isn't anymore. My second son is dead. He died when he was just hours old. It's better that way."

"What in hell…"

"Don't worry about it, Bobby, I'm going," Harry said harshly, his voice breaking slightly. He grabbed the items in Bobby's hands and started packing some of them as well.

"Harry, something's wrong, this isn't John, don't go."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Clearly it is. I'm sorry Bobby, for intruding this summer, I know time with the boys means a lot to you."

"Harry, you didn't…"

Harry shook his head and interrupted, "Thanks for everything Bobby, take care, and watch out for my brothers for me? You're a better father than him. Portus."

He vanished from the room with a pop. He never noticed the faint blue glow behind his father's eyes.

Bobby looked at John incredulously. "What did you do?" He asked. Never in a million years did he expect this.

"The right thing. I'm just going to grab this boys' things, and then we'll leave."

"John Winchester, if you leave without giving me a better explanation than that, you had better never come back."

John nodded. "Understood." He haphazardly threw the boy's things into their bags and moved down the stairs quickly.

Bobby followed him, getting more and more furious by the moment. John got into the car, where Sam and Dean were waiting, ready to ask more questions.

"If you ever come back here, I'll blast you full of buckshot!" He yelled while cocking his shotgun.

The Impala squealed off.

As soon as it did, a man appeared right in front of Bobby. One he had never seen before. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, pointing his gun at the man.

"No need for that Bobby Singer," the man said, flicking the gun out of his hands. He placed his hand on Bobby's forehead. "You won't remember me, or that boy."

Bobby fell down. When he woke up, in his bed, he wouldn't remember a thing about Henry Winchester.

Sam and Dean kept asking their dad questions as he drove, furiously. He ignored them as he pulled into a motel parking lot. He went and got a room. The three of them entered, and immediately, fell, prone. Zachariah, fresh from Bobby's came into the room and wiped their memories. After all, the last things the angels needed was one of them getting into their grand plans. Everything should go according to plan now – he had already gotten to the other people in the Winchester's lives who had encountered young Harry.

The next day, not remembering his middle child at all, John resumed his hunting schedule. He felt angry at himself, although he wasn't sure why. He also felt determined like he needed to find something out, but he figured that was what it had been for the last eleven years or so – his wife's murderer. He worried constantly about his sons and their safety so he pushed them, harder than ever before, to be on their game to be prepared for what was coming.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Harry landed hard in the backyard where he had left Sirius' London house, his eyes red with tears. Damn, he hated wizard travel – he'd far preferred the Impala. No, he couldn't let him think that. Sirius came running out of the house.

"Harry is that you?" He asked wand pointed at the intruder.

"Yeah, it's me."

Sirius stiffened. "What is your American name?" he asked, to check the identity of his godson.

"Henry Winchester," Harry said bitterly.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Sirius said, lowering his wand and gathering Harry up into a hug. "We hadn't heard from you in days! We were just discussing launching a search party. But we have to get you inside. Here, read this," he said shoving a piece of paper under Harry's nose.

Harry took it, too exhausted to notice that he didn't see the house that had previously been there. "The Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place." The house appeared.

"Come, it's not safe. You're going to have to tell me all about your summer, sounds like you had some Marauder-worthy adventures…"

Harry nodded and followed. This was his life, he determined. Sirius and the upcoming war. He'd forget that he had another family in the US, one that didn't want him. He'd focus on his friends and Hogwarts, and that would make this ache in his chest go away, he was sure of it. He just needed time. After all, he rarely ever thought of the Dursleys, surely, forgetting the Winchesters would be just as easy. He had considered, for the briefest moment, being Henry Winchester. But, with grim determination, he steeled himself. He was Harry Potter, son of Lily and James and there was no reason why anyone would ever need to know otherwise.

AN – And that, my friends, is the end of Part Two – but not the end to this story. It was a long one, but I didn't feel like a could break it up. As always, thank you all so much for your amazing comments and reviews (also kudos, likes and favorites), they mean the world to me.

I imagine that some of you are going to have some thoughts and feelings for me this week. This has been planned from the beginning, but I have to admit that I'm a little nervous to hear the reactions – let me know what you think!

This chapter is actually the whole reason this fanfic exists. For some reason, the first scene with Bobby in the show has always stuck with me and I wondered what John had done to make him so angry that he threatened to shoot him (in front of the boys no less) and told him never to come back. Granted, this is the most convoluted answer ever to that question, but at least now I can (kind-of) stop thinking about it.

Also, yes, please know that I am aware of how much of a hypocrite John is being in this chapter. Sirius is also less-than-awesome.

Chapter One of Part Three is titled, Aftermath.