AN: I don't own either HP or SoA. This takes place during Season 3 of Sons of Anarchy obviously.
"Well… fuck." Harry peered down at the body just a foot in front of him, in a dark alley, and was about to just apparate away when he heard the wail of a baby. The kid was in a sliver of moonlight, hidden by a thick sweater. He ran a tired hand through his hair and knelt down to ruffle through the sling that the man had on him, coming up with an infant. Baby boy, judging by the color of the onesie. Harry gently slipped a shaking hand around the kid, picking him up and holding him against his chest. "I could have killed you, sweetheart."
Harry flinched and peered into the kid's blue eyes, rocking him a little bit, stroking his back. The kid had short blond hair, soft and clean, hidden underneath a small blue beanie. The kid's whines petered out slowly into quiet little whimpers and then eventually quieted down, staring right at Harry curiously. He smiled and watched as the kid watched him, his heart skipping several beats. "Hey, there, kiddo. What's your name?"
The boy stared up at him, waving his arms in nonspecific gestures then reached out to yank on a strand of Harry's hair. Harry laughed quietly and tucked him closer before waving a hand over the body of the guy he had gotten into a fight with. Cameron Hayes. The man's soul disappeared in his magical sight, swallowed up by a reaper, and Harry nodded to it before standing up.
He tapped a thumb against the boy's forehead, spelling out his question and the answer popped up in the air. Abel Teller, son of Jackson Teller and Wendy Chase. He peered down at the body of the guy again before swearing. The boy wasn't the man's biological kid so why was Abel with him? Harry frowned then made sure the kid was secure in his arms before apparating to the local non magical police station.
Hayes' body was in a fairly noticeable spot so it would be discovered quickly, the cause of death found even more quickly. But Harry wouldn't be around and nor would Abel, though it wasn't like a kid could be tried for murder. Harry's lips twitched up in amusement at that and then he grimaced in further thought before shrugging it off.
Northern Ireland had its fair share of wizards and witches but not as much as England and not as much as the US. Harry walked into the police department and looked around at the various posters on the walls, idly studying them, seeing if one of them was about the kid in his arms.
None of them was about a kid or even about Cameron Hayes. He quickly cast a notice-me-not on himself before walking deeper into the station, picking a station and sitting down. Abel settled further into his arms and fell asleep, dozing on his shoulder. Harry smiled faintly down at him, continued to stroke the kid's back through his onesie.
He typed a few words into the computer, scanning the screen, looking for information on either the kid or the man. And finding information on Hayes. One Cameron Hayes, connected to the IRA. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as he read the information on the screen, at the mug shot, and peered down at Abel Teller again. "Were you kidnapped, Abel? Is that…"
Harry yawned too, matching the boy's yawn, and stood up, slipping through shadows back to the Burrow. He shrugged off the notice me not and easily walked down the path to the old but still loved home. He pushed the back door open, took one last glance at the dark sky above him, and then looked around. "Molly!"
He didn't have to wait for very long before the older woman came bustling down the stairs, middle of the night, her eyes narrowed in worry. Molly took one look at him, at the baby in his arms, and lifted an eyebrow pointedly.
"I did not kidnap this baby," Harry started, peering down at Abel when little soft whimpers came from him, making his heart clench in his chest. He laid a hand over the kid's stomach lightly, rubbing his belly, pushing some magic into the boy to ease his dreams. "Just let me say that."
"Was that a possibility?" Molly questioned, breathing out a sigh and holding out her arms.
Harry snorted and shook his head. "No. I ran into the guy who did kidnap little Abel though. I think. We had words."
Molly's eyes narrowed even more as Harry handed over the boy, gently. "I'm not going to ask."
"Best you don't. They were both non magical though," Harry added quietly, yawning a little. "I figure I'd get some sleep here and then work on finding out where his parents are tomorrow."
"Are you still staying at Grimmauld Place?" Molly asked, rocking the boy a little. "The Daily Prophet reported you were."
"In that old place? No. Too many memories," Harry answered, running his fingers through his hair. "You still have leftover clothes and such from your boys?"
Molly sighed, her eyes softening. Harry twitched in place and took Abel back from her, feeling a little protective over the kid even though he wasn't his. Even though Molly would never hurt a kid.
"Yes, of course we do. His diaper will need changing and your room hasn't changed at all," Molly said. "I'll get a bottle ready."
The moment that Abel woke up crying in the middle of the night, Harry sleepily blinked his eyes open and shifted without a conscious thought, curling around the kid. He had seen the big scar over Abel's heart, the lines of it still red from a surgery, and took care in drawing Abel over with a big paw, curling his long furry body around him.
Abel quieted very quickly, his blue eyes widening before he yawned again, falling back asleep tucked into thick fur.
It took a few days of searching but after apparating to New York and finding information in the FBI office, albeit discreetly, he found files on Abel's parents. Or at least one of them. Jackson Teller lived in Charming California, a member of the motorcycle club, Sons of Anarchy. Harry let out a quiet noise of consideration as he rocked the sleepy kid in his arms, holding his bottle to his mouth.
"Well, kid, looks like I found one of your parents," Harry murmured, standing up from the station he had commandeered in one of the non magical departments of law enforcement. No one had given him a fuss after he had shown them his badge, something that looked like MI-6 but wasn't.
He glanced up to the clock on the far wall, eying the passing agents as they went about their day. It wouldn't be too early on the west coast, given that it was 3pm on the east coast. Harry peered down at Abel, meeting those curious blue eyes, and reached out only for Abel to slowly reach out his own fingers. Harry curled his longer fingers around smaller, chubbier ones and his heart skipped a beat, swallowing back feelings. "Hmm? You want to go back to your dad?"
Abel opened his mouth and then closed it, his throat working, like he was trying his best to form words. Harry smiled faintly and curled his arm tighter around the kid before finding a small, unoccupied breakroom and apparating out. He took a portkey to California, to local branch of MACUSA in Sacramento, and then looked at a map, tracing the path he would need to take to get to Charming.
"So question is… what mode of transportation would freak people out less?" Harry muttered, nodding to a passing witch. "It's a motorcycle club but… I'm not…"
"Hey, Potter!"
Harry turned around to look at the guy who had called his name, lifting an eyebrow. "What's up?"
"We've heard rumors. There's…" the wizard trailed off, his brown eyes narrowing in thought. "Dark magic allegedly on the outskirts of Charming. Care to take a look?"
Harry frowned. "Do I know you?"
"I'm the person in charge of defense here," the guy replied, shrugging and shaking his head. "If there's dark creatures or spells going awry or anything like that… I report it to headquarters in NY."
Harry nodded idly, glancing down at Abel, who looked back up at him. "I have a kid with me."
"Won't take long, I think. And it's just a look. I can keep him here with me or we have childcare available. He's yours? The Prophet-"
Harry grimaced and tucked Abel closer to his chest, pulling down the cloak that shimmered into existence over his shoulders and around Abel. There was something in the man's eyes that seemed… not right, maybe not visible to other people but the guy's magic was all over the place.
"Nah. I'll take a look. Thanks for letting me know," Harry remarked, interrupting the man and taking a step into the shadow behind him, the one that was created by the sunlight echoing in through the skylight above them, as it filtered through the room. He walked through shadows out of Sacramento, humming a little bit to keep Abel from freaking out. The kid took it without fussing, maybe not even noticing the shadows that encircled them.
As he traveled, the cloak shimmered and Abel grasped it in his fingers, curling into it tightly. The echo of wings fluttered behind him as Death grasped him, its fingers caressing his skin, digging over his power, his body and adding its touch to his appearance. Harry frowned and then sighed, giving into it and breathing out icy cold power.
He stepped from the shadows in Charming, in the shadows that curled around the clubhouse of the Sons. He kept a notice me not charm on himself though, not wanting to step into anything that would be risky. Harry took in the site ahead of him, seeing the Teller-Morrow garage at the edge of the compound. The reaper seemed to watch him from all around, the club's patch spray painted on one side to where it was drawn on the motorcycles in a line ahead of him. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the chain link fence and the gate with barbed wire on top, shutting out the rest of the world.
Though right now it was open, letting in motorcycles, cars and vans to the garage.
The group of men that were huddled around the motorcycles didn't seem to notice him at first, too busy watching their friend. Their friend who Harry had only seen in photographs on computers up until now. Jackson Teller. All dirty blond hair, bright blue eyes that flashed with anger as he talked on the phone. Beard that was maybe a day or two worth of growth, leather cut curling around his chest, baggy jeans that ended in white tennis shoes.
He looked dangerous and just this side of… feral, a sort of caged animal pacing as he yelled over the phone. Harry sucked in a breath and rocked back on the heels of his feet at the sight, his blood heating, thrumming.
"Where is my son?" Teller yelled, taking a breath between words, his voice low and dangerous. It only took a second for him to extend his magic, to reach out with his power and listen in on the conversation, hearing someone in an Irish accent talk back.
Whatever the guy said did not placate Teller in anyway but Harry did hear the obvious lie. Whoever was on the phone said that Abel was in Vancouver, was still in Vancouver because that was where Hayes had been. Harry had idly paid attention to the news over the past few days, paying more attention to the discovery of Hayes' body with the IRA's signature drawn in blood on his forehead.
Clearly whoever was on the phone was lying right through their teeth, lying about the location of a kidnapped kid and Harry could see Teller had the same thought. Though Harry didn't know what Abel's father knew or didn't know about Abel or Hayes. For all he knew, the anger that Teller had expressed was just general distrust for the guy on the phone.
When Teller snapped the phone shut, Harry glanced down at where Abel was in his arms, startling only a little bit when the sound of flesh hitting metal echoed through the yard. He watched as Teller punched the black van behind him, punching it again and again only to face the other guys again. Harry flinched a little and then shrugged, stepping out from the shadows and into the sunlight.
Harry took a few steps towards the group, quiet and slow, making sure Abel was secure but hidden. The cloak was wrapped around the boy, hiding him from view, wrapped in a sling. He stopped several feet from the group, the motorcycles on his right, the clubhouse to his left, and Abel's father ahead of him. Cleared his throat.
And was not prepared for the seven or so guns that were promptly pulled on him.
Jax stared at the guy in front of them, his eyes narrowing, his heart skipping several beats before steadying. The man… if he could be called that… just stood there, cloak strewn casually over his shoulders, creating a sling over the guy's chest. The silhouette of wings flashed from the man's shoulder blades, beating once or twice before falling still.
Bright green eyes peered at them intently, the scar on the guy's forehead faint but there. Messy black hair that was half pulled back and half… not, with one braid framing his face. A dark green shirt curled around his chest and jeans hugged his hips, ending up in comfortable boots. Those green eyes flashed in the sunlight and Jax watched as the guy's fingers twitched, his right arm hovering over the cloak, a little protectively almost.
"Who the fuck are you?" Clay asked, not a hint of a waver in his voice, as they all pointed their guns at the guy.
Jax glared at the guy, his knuckles sore, his heart galloping like it wanted to tear out of his chest. The guy tilted his head curiously, meeting Jax's eyes before faint amusement flickered in his face. Opie stepped forward, flanking Jax, just as Chibs did the same. The soft intake of breath beside him made Jax turn to look at Chibs, keeping his gun pointed at the stranger. Chibs' eyes were wide with recognition but Jax wasn't too sure of what. Maybe Chibs knew the guy but there was no recognition in those green eyes.
"Ooops. My bad. Occupational hazard. Let me…" the guy trailed off, his English accent obvious but it left Jax more than a little bewildered.
"What the fuck."
The guy stared at him in bemusement, lips twitching up into a smile that bared more teeth than was normal, and half… Jax could see a hint of heat in the man's gaze, as he took a deep breath.
The wings disappeared and the shadows that curled around him vanished, leaving just the cloak and the stick behind the guy's left ear. The guy shrugged and looked around at them, eying each one of them before stopping at Jax again and pointing at him.
"I need to speak with you. Preferably in private."
"Whatever you need to say to me can be said right the fuck here," Jax remarked, his fingers tightening around the grip of his gun. "Who the fuck are you?"
The guy frowned but dipped his head in a nod. "I'm Harry. And… I'd really prefer to talk in private. I promise I am not any kind of law enforcement and I'm not here to harm any of you. I'm just here to talk and to… return something to you."
Jax took a step towards the guy… towards Harry, a regular name for a guy who had wings a minute ago. He did lower his gun though, keeping it in his hand in case. "How do you know you need to talk to me?"
"You're Jackson Teller, right? Sons of Anarchy? Subject of quite a few investigations with ATF," Harry offered, staying right where he was even as Jax took another step.
"Jax…" Clay trailed off, glancing between the two of them. "Do you know this guy?"
"Nah. I don't," Jax said, seeing wary patience in those green eyes. The guy was prepared to wait him out, as if he had nothing better to do than to… fucking return something… "And return something? What the fuck?"
Harry's eyes darkened and then he let out a sigh, his left hand wandering down to the sling on his chest. "It may or may not pertain to that phone call you just finished."
"The fuck? You been listening in on us?" Jax exclaimed, taking another step, wondering when the guy would start showing some common sense and take a step back. But the guy never did, just staring at him intently, no hint of uncertainty in his eyes. No hint of worry. No fidgeting. Just a calm that came from facing down… possibly scarier things than him. And that… more than anything… made the anger dissipate as Jax took a deep breath.
"For all of two minutes, yes. After our talk, I will disavow all knowledge of what I heard or saw and vanish from your life forever. Now… you have somewhere we can talk?"
Harry met Jax's eyes, seeing those bright blue eyes flicker with confusion. "I'm not here to hurt any of you, need I remind you. I just want to talk."
"Take the clubhouse, Jax," one of the older guys spoke, gesturing for everyone to lower their weapons. The patch on his cut said president unlike Jax's, which said vice president. "We'll stay out here."
The in case you need us was left unsaid but heard nonetheless and Harry watched as Jax nodded.
"This way and no funny business," Jax said, gesturing to the clubhouse to their right.
Harry nodded back and followed Jax past the group of well armed men, feeling the echo of death around all of them. He wasn't too surprised when Jax gestured him on ahead of him, as he stepped into the clubhouse of the Sons. The slight reminder of the gun in Jax's waist band was present but unheeded. With one word, Harry could and would turn it into something less lethal. Or just vanish it entirely. "Of course… if we're talking about the wings… I wouldn't exactly call that funny business. I don't share my wings with just anyone. That's more of a… fifth date kind of thing."
"You done?" Jax questioned, as Harry stopped in the middle of the clubhouse, his eyes taking in everything.
"Yeah, I'm done," Harry answered, eying Jax for a moment, eying the closed door of the clubhouse. There was a pool table behind him, a bar to the side and… couches strewn around the floor. The clubhouse seemed more like a home than a club, pictures of motorcycles on the wall and families, as well as mugshots of the club members. And from what Harry had seen, the clubhouse was two floors. He didn't think the upper floor held offices, judging by what he was seeing now.
He was about to reach in for Abel but thought better of the quick movement when Jax's eyes flashed in warning. "I'm reaching into my pockets for the thing you're missing, alright? Not a gun or a weapon."
"What the fuck am I supposed to be missing anyway?"
"Your kid," Harry replied, hearing Jax inhale sharply at the words. He reached down and slowly pulled Abel out of the cloak sling, revealing him. Abel let out a little cry of alarm and then his blue eyes widened as he rolled his head to look at Jax. And now Harry could see the family resemblance. Abel had the same bright blue eyes as his father did.
Jax's eyes widened and he took a step towards Harry, almost unconsciously, unlike outside. There was a hard glint in Jax's eyes that said that if Harry kept his son from him, there would be a bullet in that gun for him. Harry closed the distance between them and handed Abel over, ruffling the boy's hair, before stepping back.
Jax's eyes softened almost instantly, his shoulders uncurling, his body… deflating, all that anger, all that worry, fear… disappeared. Harry's heart skipped a beat at the sight, at Jax curling his arms around Abel's little form. Jax's breath hitched audibly and Harry turned away, taking in the sight of the clubhouse idly, seeing the stripper pole in the corner, a kitchen counter on the far side with a doorway that probably led to where food was cooked.
"Who…" Jax finally spoke, his voice shaky, completely unlike what he had sounded like outside. "Where did you find him?"
"Belfast, Ireland," Harry answered quietly, turning back around to look at Jax. The man still cradled Abel like he was something precious, something… innocent. Harry sucked in a breath and the brief weight on his shoulders vanished too. He had half thought that he was bringing Abel back to a father who… He shrugged the thought off and met Jax's eyes. They were watery and red with unshed tears and perhaps a little exhaustion. "I may or may not have accidentally killed Cameron Hayes a couple of days ago so I hope he wasn't a friend."
Jax snorted and shook his head. "No. He wasn't a friend."
"Good. Good," Harry said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. He caught Jax staring at him, something undecipherable in his eyes, and smiled faintly. "The man on the phone was lying."
"I know. I just didn't know what he was lying about. And O'Neill… He's in bed with Jimmy," Jax muttered, rocking Abel in his arms as his son started to wriggle around. "Thank you."
"You're most welcome," Harry said, taking a step back, heading to the door.
"You want anything?" Jax questioned, raising his voice a little bit.
"No. Goodness of my heart and all that," Harry replied, grinning in amusement. "I don't have a kid of my own but my godson lives with me. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him. Probably go a little feral." Like you apparently did.
Jax nodded and swallowed, his eyes focusing on Abel again.
Harry was about to step back out through the door when he frowned and turned around. "Jax?"
"Hmm?"
"Take care of him," Harry said, slowly closing the distance between them and reaching out to let Abel grab his fingers again. "He's still a squishy little bugger."
Jax laughed and looked up at him, amusement lighting his whole face up. "I will."
"Here's my number," Harry added, drawing out a card and tucking it into a visible pocket in that leather cut. Jax followed his movements with intent, licking his lips, and lifted an eyebrow. "Blanket permission to call, alright? I don't care if it's for help, for advice, for child care, for medical attention… a booty call if you're single. Whatever, okay?"
"You gonna explain the wings?" Jax questioned, stroking Abel's stomach, chest, legs almost reverently.
"Now that… that's a sixth date kind of thing," Harry remarked, curling into a teasing grin. "Or I suppose a third date kind of thing, if it was you."
Jax smirked at him, heat making his eyes dark, and nodded. "Be careful back in England. I don't know what the IRA can do-"
Harry returned the smirk with one of his own. "We're scarier than the IRA, thank you. This is me toned down and I'm not exactly alone. Though… I'm the only one who can slip through shadows. And that information is for you and you alone, got it?"
"I got it. We're good," Jax offered, his attention drawn back to his son as Abel whimpered. Harry smiled and stepped back to slip through the shadows near the bar and out of Charming.