Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter or Eyeshield 21 or any of the affiliated characters. What I do own is a kick ass Ash Ketchum hat and a collection of gold medal winning maple syrup. Neither of which will appear in this story.

Warnings: OC's, some OOC, Het, Slash, AU, fluff, language

The Second Tackle

Harry wasn't deaf, blind, or dumb like his relatives no doubt prayed for. He had heard Vernon and Petunia's conversation, he had seen a brief glance of the picture, and he had understood what they were saying. He had a brother. He had an older brother. He had an older brother that they had gotten rid of. Once Vernon was gone and Petunia was driving Dudley over to Piers house, Harry had pounced on the paper and flipped it open to the picture.

He easily pinpointed the boy Vernon was talking about. He was in the back, but something about his presence stood out. It was like a beacon to Harry. He had matching messy hair, a slim nose, and slightly Asian features that showed in the eyes, like Harry and Petunia. Harry could see the resemblance between them, and it gave him hope. Was this his brother? He needed more information. He needed to know what happened the night of November first when he was left on the doorstep. Was his brother left with him? Did Vernon and Petunia even try to take care of his brother, or did they ship him off to an orphanage right away, not even letting him step one foot in the house?

Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at the boy who might or might not be his brother, but the sharp slam of a car door broke him out of his stupor. Ripping the picture from the paper, Harry shoved it into the pocket of his oversized shorts and scurried back to the kitchen. It wouldn't earn him any points with Petunia if he neglected the dishes. A clean house was a proper house after all.

Petunia had briefly looked in on him, satisfied to see him hunched over the sink, before she went upstairs to prepare for a trip to the city. Petunia Dursley had five outfits that she wore for when she went into town. The first was a forest green tweed skirt suit. It was thick and warm, and matched well with her winter coat. It also helped when the days were rainy, keeping her warm as she traversed the streets. The second was a pretty deep purple party frock. She wore it for those special company dinners she attended with Vernon. The last three were floral cotton dresses, which she bought from a high end designer store. It being summer, Petunia was no doubt going to wear a floral dress to complete her shopping.

Harry finished the last plate and placed it on the drying rack when the phone rang. Wiping his hands dry, Harry approached the mounted telephone only he was cut off when a lacquered nailed claw reached around the corner and grabbed it, barely missing his nose.

"Dursley residence, Petunia speaking, how may I help you?" Petunia's sickly sweet voice flittered around the corner. "Oh Vernon darling! You barely just left, what's the matter?"

Harry rolled his eyes and returned to the kitchen. Now that the dishes were done, he would need to wipe down the stove, counters, and the dining table. The work was tedious but he didn't care, it allowed him to think as he worked. He had a brother somewhere and he needed to find him. He wondered if his brother knew he existed, if he remembered anything. Harry had been just over a year old, and his brother was older, so he had to be two or older. He could barely remember being two, but his brother could have been older than that. He didn't know much so it was all guess work.

"Boy!" Petunia shouted.

Harry lazily lifted his eyes to the woman as she trotted into the room; it seemed she chose to wear the coral floral dress that day. "Vernon had just told me that his sister Marge is arriving earlier than expected for her visit. I'm going into town to pick up Dudley's suit, so I want you to clean this house top to bottom, replace the sheets in the guest room, and go to the florist and get some nice Gerber Daisies for Marge's room. Not yellow though. She hates that colour. She'll be arriving early in the morning and not the day after tomorrow like we hoped." Petunia dropped some money on the table as she ambled away, mumbling to herself.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry replied even though the woman probably didn't hear him. His mind was racing. Marge was coming? He hadn't even known, and she was supposed to arrive on his birthday? Well that would have been the worst gift the Dursley's had ever given him, including the years they just forgot.

The front door closed with a snap and click from the lock, and Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. He was alone again. Digging the picture out of his pocket, Harry smoothed down the wrinkles and stared at his possible brother with hard concentration.

"I'm going to find you." He vowed, his resolve strong.

o.O.o

Petunia was home first after lunch. She had immediately hung Dudley's suit in the hall closet, and dropped the bags from the grocers on the kitchen counter. She then went upstairs and changed into her 'at home' clothes, and started a thorough inspection of the house.

"Boy!" She called. Harry found her in the kitchen, adding a little extra kick to her afternoon tea. "Tonight we're making roast. I'll get started now since it takes a few hours t braise. You're making the sides though." She ordered.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry replied. Harry walked into the kitchen and started pulling the ingredients they would need. He pulled out the bottle of cooking sherry, and Petunia was right next to him, snatching the bottle from his hands.

"Careful with that. If you break it, I'm the one that will have to go out and buy some more." She scolded him.

Harry didn't reply as he just went through the motions. The summer after his first year had been great, until his relatives had learned that he couldn't actually use magic outside of school. This summer they had gleefully locked up all his school stuff. Now that his thirteenth birthday was only a day away, he couldn't wait for the chance to leave and go over to Ron's. Well maybe not Ron's… he had saved Ginny, and since then the girl –who had already been overly obsessed with him- had become unbearable. He couldn't go to Hermione's either. They had been grateful that they figured out what the monster was from her clue, but after a month of her being petrified, and her not being there during the actual adventure, Harry could feel a small wedge between them. He would feel highly uncomfortable intruding on her and her parents' home. So maybe, he just wished for school to start up again so he could begin his third year.

Petunia poured some oil into the skillet and sautéed the roast. When it was finished browning, she opened the cooking sherry and took a swig, smacking her lips together when she was finished. Next she deglazed the pan with store bought broth, pouring more sherry than was probably needed, and adding little bits of everything else. She took a few more drinks of the sherry, enjoying the small luxury she enjoyed herself, and when her eyes started glazing over like they usually did, Harry stepped in and took over.

Harry finished the preparation and placed the roast in the oven to braise for the next few hours. As was custom, Harry gathered Petunia's tea cup and led the woman to the sitting room for her to rest. He settled his aunt down, put her tea cut within reaching distance, and turned to leave, but stopped. Normally he would leave her alone for an hour and then she would be back on her feet, ready to walk the neighbourhood scrounging up little bits of gossip, but today, he had a small plan.

Looking over the woman and her state that wouldn't last until dinner, Harry took a chance.

"Aunt Petunia, can I ask a question?"

Petunia's head lightly lulled over to his direction. "What?"

Harry bit his lip, but scavenged up all the Gryffindor courage he had in his body. "What happened to my older brother?" He asked without a tremble in his voice. He was quite proud of himself.

Petunia laughed. Normally she giggled or cackled, but today it was a full blown laugh, with a slight crazed edge. "Your brother? Oh your brother… the little bastard looked just like your father, all messy hair and defiant eyes." She trailed off and started looking away, but Harry stepped forward.

"But what happened to him?" Harry pressed.

Petunia calmed down enough to scoff at him. "We sent him away. He reminded me of your father, sitting there proudly, and protecting your crib. He refused to let you go, screeched his head off, nearly waking the whole street! Well, Vernon smacked him on the back of the head and carted him off to the nearest orphanage. That letter… that letter that ruined everything… it said what happened and that we had to take for you both… oh but we saw the loophole we did. That old coot said to protect you first and foremost and since there is no point in feeding two extra mouths, away he went. It was bad enough the Lily had to go marry that freak Potter, but to produce two brats is ridiculous. Beat her there didn't I? I had the perfect son the first time, didn't need to try again. Ha! Finally best you oh dear sister of mine!" Petunia ranted to herself.

Harry stared at the woman. His brother had been here, with him on the doorstep, protecting him through the night and they got rid of him. Harry felt a warmth spread through his heart that he had a brother that had cared about his so deeply, but then a small spike of anger pierced his euphoria, reminding him that his Aunt and Uncle had taken that away.

"I see. Do you remember which orphanage?" Harry asked, stepping closer to his aunt.

Petunia waved her hand in a flimsy manner. "No no… I never bothered asking Vernon when he got back. I didn't care." Petunia answered, his words slightly slurred, but still coherent.

Harry wanted to stomp his foot in frustration, but held himself back. "Do you remember his name?" A name, he could work with a name, if nothing else.

"Thorne, Thornley, Thornton… something like that." Petunia sighed and looked away, suddenly lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to his presence now.

Harry frowned, but didn't try anymore. He learned something at least. His brother's name was Thorn-something. Thorn-something Potter.

o.O.o

Marge's arrival had gone just about as well as Harry thought it would. When Marge first arrived she had thrust her suitcase so hard into Harry, that he had the wind knocked out of him. He took his time bringing the luggage up to the guest room, happy to spend as much time away from Marge as he could. When we went to the kitchen after completing his task, Marge had wasted no time laying into him. She berated him on everything from his imaginary ego to the hole in his left sock. Harry held his tongue, even if he really wanted to yell some nasty comments back at her, and took the harsh words with nary a flinch.

It was on the morning of his birthday that things started going downhill, or uphill depending on the perspective. Harry had woken up to Aunt Petunia banging on his door, and then proceeded to trek downstairs. He started breakfast, and slowly the Dursleys entered. Marge was first, she sat down, her girth taking up an entire side of the table, and started to complain about everything. Petunia had pandered to the woman but Harry had seen her eyes shoot over to the cupboard where she hid her gin.

Dudley was next. The teenager waddled into the room and straight to the table to take his seat. His plate was already filled and the T.V remote on hand. The boy turned on the telly, barely greeting his mother and Aunt before he started shovelling food into his gob.

"Petunia, you must get your gutters cleaned or something, it was absolutely dreadful." Marge's voice boomed. She was eating several sausages and some eggs, dropping pieces here and there on the floor for Ripper and dirtying the clean white vinyl flooring. "I got up around midnight to get a drink of water for my dear Ripper, and there were several Owls, just flying around and making a nuisance of themselves."

"O-owls?" Petunia parroted, her back stiff. Harry's hand stilled as he was turning the bacon over, and leaned closer to listen in.

"Yes, I counted three of them!" Marge announced, her meaty hand holding up the correct number of digits.

"Just flying around the house?" Petunia asked.

"Yes, just flying around. My Ripper just about jumped out the window to chase them. Only your house though, the other houses were fine. There must be something in you gutters attracting them, like rats or something. I remember just last summer there was a man down the road, had to re-do his whole roof because a group of mice burrowed into the rafters and was playing on the roof. It was terrible, the construction crew made all levels of noise, morning and night," Marge blathered on.

"Well, then I'll send the boy outside today to clean them. We don't want owls flying around here," Petunia stated her voice taking on a slight high pitch. Petunia was afraid of mice, and used all sorts of chemicals and traps to prevent them from ever entering her house.

"You hear that boy!" Marge's voice boomed louder. "No laying about today, taking advantage of my brothers and his wife's kindness. We're putting you to work."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry answered, deciding to ignore Marge in a small bit of petulance.

Vernon lumbered into the room next. He seemed to miss the previous conversation, which was good for Harry, and he sat down picking up his paper.

"Turn on the news, would you Dudley?" Vernon asked, his eyes scanning the local news section. Dudley pouted, but complied. The dining area was silent as the blonde teenager picked up the remote and clicked the channels down to the local news station.

Harry finished the bacon and carried the pan right over to the table, dividing the meat up among the four family members. Petunia barely glanced at her share, instead eyeing the stains on her clean floor. Harry had to commend the woman for her fortitude. Normally she would have already grabbed a cloth and scrubbed the area clean again, but she was holding out remarkably well.

"We have the whole day free, is there anything special anyone would like to do?" Vernon asked, folding his newspaper closed and placing it on the left hand side of his plate.

Petunia continued eyeing the grease spots, and restraining herself, but she answered Vernon still. "I need to go to the grocers…Dudley is low on ice treats and we need to pick up something for dinner tonight." She spoke, he gaze firmly locked on the grease and slobber.

"Piers and Michael wanted to have tea together." Dudley replied. Harry knew he was lying and that he was going to go over to Michael's house and the three of them would look at naughty magazine's that Michael had stolen from his older brother. Dudley had even brought one home and hid it under his pillow. Harry knew because he could hear his cousin talking to the magazine at night, and especially to one picture that Dudley had called his 'Big Boob Betty'.

"We can run errands today, maybe stop at a tailor," Marge suggested. "I want to buy Colonel Fubster a nice hat for taking care of my precious dogs while I'm here."

"Yes yes," Vernon agreed. "We can all go out. Except…" Vernon's eyes darted over to Harry, sizing him up.

"Aunt Petunia asked me to clean the gutters," Harry said nonchalantly, wanting to avoid Mrs. Figgs.

"Watch your tone boy!" Marge snapped.

"It's okay Marge, just means we need to tell to be a little harder on him." Harry knew Vernon didn't say that for him, only to placate Marge long enough for them to leave the house and avoid one of her long tirades. The last one had been the night before when Petunia announced they were going out for dinner. Marge had been unimpressed and started in on a long lecture about how people were so frivolous with their money these days. She explained how they always seemed to go out to eat and how they spend so much on a single meal when the same amount of money could provide food for three. The fact that she tossed pounds Dudley's way over the smallest things was left unsaid. It wasn't smart to inject your opinion in the middle of Marge's diatribes. Marge's rants always made Harry wonder if Petunia had drank before she married Vernon, or it was a habit that came about after meeting her sister-in-law.

"You should call them right now and tell them to keep a tally of how many punishments he deserves when he gets back," Marge stated firmly. "Give him something to look forward to. Bad apples need to be put to work, and handled with a firm hand."

Harry shot the woman a small glare behind her back.

"Come now Marge…" Vernon tried to soothe. "Now isn't the time. We are about to go out and we shouldn't dampen the mood by discussing the boy. I'll call when we return, but for now let's get ready and leave in high spirits."

Marge still seemed miffed at him –but really when wasn't she- but she gladly rose from her seat and took Ripper upstairs. Once she was gone, Petunia was on her feet with a wash cloth in hand and bottle of bleach and water, ready to clean her floors. "disgusting, disgusting, disgusting…" she chanted as she got to her knees and started scrubbing the infected area. Harry gathered the dishes and didn't say anything, completely content to know that he would be home alone for the day.

Once the family was gone, Harry scampered up to his room. Marge had given him an idea, as much as he would hate to admit that the woman helped him in anyway. He was an apple, and apples come from trees. The Potters must have a family tree, and if he could look at it even just once, he might be able to learn more about his brother. Harry grabbed parchments and his quill, quickly opening his ink bottle, ready to write to Ron and ask if wizards have family tree's and if so where can he find his, but his hand stilled. Ron had told him last night that he was in Egypt. Hedwig wasn't ready for such a long journey, and Errol especially wasn't up for such a task. Harry sighed and put his quill down. What was he going to do now?

As smart as Hermione was, Harry was pretty sure that she wouldn't know about wizarding family trees since she was muggleborn, and Harry really wasn't close to anyone else. Sure there were the guys in his dorm, but Seamus was a half-blood and from his stories it seemed he mainly dealt with muggle stuff, and Dean was a muggleborn as well. Then there was Neville who… Harry stood up straight. Neville was a pureblood and would know about these things. They weren't particularly close, but they were friendly enough that Harry didn't feel completely uncomfortable writing him. Harry picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and got to work.

Dear Neville,

How are you? Has your summer been good? Have done anything fun? I know it might be odd seeing a letter from me, but I wanted to ask you something. Do wizarding families have family trees? I'm still pretty dim when it comes to all the wizarding culture and stuff and I wanted to know if the Potter's had one, and if so where can I see it? Does the wizarding world have a library with a hall or records or archives?

You may be wondering why I'm asking this, but there is something I want to know. You don't need to rush to answer me or anything, I can wait until school starts if you want. You don't even need to answer me. Thanks for reading this at least.

I hope you have a good rest of break.

Harry.

Harry cringed as he read the letter. He had been very hesitant and unsure of what to write, and it clearly showed. He pushed it off to the side to dry and tried his hand at writing another one. Except, that the second letter turned out worse and the third was no better. Giving up and hoping for the best, Harry tied the first letter to Hedwig and sent his faithful owl off after a long string of apologies for waking her.

Now onto the gutters.

o.O.o

That night over dinner while Marge was enjoying her wine, she was speaking loudly and retelling an utterly fascinating, in her opinion, tale about the time Ripper had tried to eat a stray cat, and how the horrible feline had ran around the yard, leading the dog on a merry chase, before it escaped up a tree. Harry knew exactly how that cat felt.

Marge seemed to have seen his shiver and her eyes narrow, ready to start her favourite pastime. "We have someone here who knows exactly how fast Ripper is, don't we?" she threw out, baiting him.

Harry stayed silent.

"When we get runt like this, we usually drown them. I bet that's what Ripper always trying to do. Eliminate the runt for the family. They are weak, underbred," Marge taunted. "Nothing against you Tuney dear, but your sister picked a poor choice for a husband. Two rotten eggs came together to form this little nancy."

Harry clenched his fist, staring determinedly at the floor. He would not rise to her taunts. He would ignore her, and her words. He did not want to give her the satisfaction. Harry needed to remind himself that Marge was only full of hot air. One day she would burst and-

POP!

Harry's head snapped up at the sound and he felt his face drain of blood at the sight before him. Marge literally looked like someone had taken a pin to her and popped her flat. Her body was deflated and slumped over her chair. One flimsy air was resting on the table near her wine glass, and rest of her was hanging limply from the chair.

"MARGE!" Vernon and Petunia screamed at the same time, rushing towards her.

Harry panicked. What was he going to do? He had killed his Aunt with magic. Surely the Ministry were going to be here soon and cart him off to prison. They would snap his wand, and he would never find his brother. This couldn't be happening. He just wanted her to stop talking, not die. Harry started to hyperventilate. He didn't know what to do. He could run but he didn't think he would make it far, plus he had nowhere to go.

Several cracks sounded from outside, but Harry barely registered them as he watched Vernon and Petunia try to pick up Marge's considerable mass. Vernon was shouting her name, and Petunia was trying to shake her while positioning her body to block Dudley from seeing the sight. The front door was slammed open, but no one paid it any mind. Dudley was crying, and Harry was frozen.

When several robed figures with drawn wands burst into the kitchen, Harry couldn't say a word as he fainted. The Ministry had arrived to arrest him.

I know many were wondering about Dumbledore and if he's evil in this story, but i hope this clears up some suspicion. He didn't get rid of Harry's brother. He's not some secret Dark Lord in this story. He's... Dumbledore...

Fun Football Fact:

No network footage exists of Super Bowl I. It was reportedly taped over (for a soap opera, according to some rumors).