Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Sons of Anarchy. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.

Chapter Five - Carnival Horror

Seeing something that greatly troubled him, Harry crossed the carnival grounds to where Opie was sitting alone on a park bench, his family nowhere to be found. "Hey there, Opie, trouble? Where are the kids?"

The other man groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. "Donna got a phone call. The agency she goes to for receptionist work had a sudden weekend opening and we needed the money. She was supposed to bring the kids here but there wasn't time before the shift started so she just dropped them off at a friend's house. I'll run by to pick them up soon."

Making a decision, Harry sat down beside him. "Opie, it should really be Jax sitting here and saying this, but he's too much your friend to actually get it out, so I guess it falls to me. You're being a fucking idiot."

"Excuse me?" Ope glared at the slightly older man and made to leave, but was stopped by Harry's calloused hand latching onto his shoulder.

"Now don't get upset here, Ope. Let me finish before you go storming off."

The long bearded man was confused, "Finish what?"

"Some very hard questions. First, are you happy?"

"I'm-"

"Lying won't get you anywhere, buddy, so be straight with me."

Opie groaned and shook his head. "No, I'm not happy. I bust my ass pretty much twelve hours a day at the lumber mill for shit pay, I've been passed over for three separate raises, and we're behind on pretty much every bill we have. For Christ's sake, we have to hide Donna's car in the fucking garage so the repo men don't come by to seize it. How could anyone be happy in a situation like that?"

"Okay, good, honesty is working with us. So let me ask you this, why don't you come back to the club? And I don't mean throwing on your patch and drinking at the bar. Why don't you come back in full? I can see to it that you get more than enough work to square up your debts."

"You know goddamn well why. I made my wife a promise. She wants me to go straight. Says she can't take the worry that I'll end up back in jail."

Harry nodded, "Keeping your word I can respect, but the problem is that you've done that, to a remarkable extent really, and what do you have to show for it? You went the way of the straight and narrow, you tried it all Donna's way, and it's ruining your family more than prison ever did."

A shifty expression, as if fight or flight were beginning to take root in his mind, Opie asked, "What do you mean?"

*Psh,* "Please, man we've all been around at some point or other to your house. We've seen the state of things, heard the arguments, and taken note of what life has turned into for your family. You're miserable, and not just because you're poorer, but because you miss this life more than you can really admit. Donna is miserable cause she sees you can't make yourself take both feet out of the MC and she can't understand why. That of course is compounded by the fact that she can't really make herself acknowledge that the promise she made you make is what is financially ruining you. Finally, your kids are miserable because they can see how sad and angry their parents are and they don't know why. You're in a never ending spiral downward that can only end terribly for all of you. You can't keep doing this or it will tear all of you apart."

"Maybe you're right." Opie leaned forward on the bench, all traces of nervous energy being replaced with a huge case of world-worn exhaustion. "But I don't know how to fix this."

Replacing his grip on the other man's shoulder with a comforting hand on his back, the magical biker explained, "There's really only one thing you can do. Come back to us."

"I promised-"

"I'm not saying right away. Talk to Donna first, and make sure the kids are somewhere else before you do because that conversation is very likely going to turn into a fight. Lay it all out for her. Your bills, debts, and what you earn at the lumber yard. Show her that you've kept your word, that you tried to walk the law abiding path, but that it isn't going to save your family. You tried to do the right thing, but it simply isn't enough. Make sure she sees the logical answer, that coming back to SAMCRO is the only way to save you all from ruin."

"You think she'd actually buy that?"

"Maybe not at first. I'm sure she'll try to give you some shit about leaving the state and starting over somewhere fresh, but really, what else could you do that would be any better than this. You're a biker, Opie. An outlaw, born and raised. You were made for this life. And for all her vaunted morals, Donna is smart. She'll eventually see the truth of this situation. But you need to lay it all out there. You can't keep pretending everything is fine, or that it will just work itself out. You're too far past that point to even say it as a joke."

"Y-You've given me some things to think about, Harry." Opie stood up, and started gathering his plate of snacks to throw away. He'd bought them for the kids to enjoy as he couldn't often afford to get them sweet things. "I'll… get those documents together to show Donna when she gets home, and I'll call the people she left the kids with and see if they wouldn't mind keeping them for the night."

"You do that, brother." Harry pulled the man into a hug with a lot of back slapping. "A man takes care of their family, Opie. However he can."

"Is that why I've been feeling like such a shit stain lately?"

"Yeah, buddy. You've had the means to provide at your fingertips for a while now, and you've been choosing to ignore it. The only reason I'm not spitting in your face for that is because your reasons were noble. Now get out of here and take care of your business. The club will be waiting to welcome you back with open arms."

Without another word, Opie took his leave, and Harry returned to his family. "What was that about?" Jax asked with a worried frown following the retreating path of his best friend.

"Don't worry about it." Harry answered. "Just a bit of tough love where it was needed. Let it be for now."

"If you say so."

"I do. Now come on, there's a few ball throwing games I want to kick your ass at."

"Have a good time, boys." Clay laughed, his eyes locked on a small family soon to cross their path. "I'm gonna stay and say hello to our resident millionaire, Elliot Oswald. Always a good idea to remind people we're here."

"Have fun, pops." Harry said as he bodily pushed his brother ahead of him.

No one was aware of the British couple that followed behind them at a distance, watching with keen interest.

Later That Night

The core group was waiting in the parking lot of the garage as a fully loaded trailer was pulled in by a semi with a rear hatch hauling what appeared to be oil drums. When it came to a stop a rather rotund Irish man hopped out, lowered the tailgate and invited Clay up to take a look at what was really inside.

"62's and AK's." He began. "Unassembled parts and a couple fully assembled samples. Fresh and ready for sale once you assemble them."

"Perfect." The president of the MC replied, but the slight hesitancy in his voice must have caught the gun runner's ear.

"Is there something I should be knowing then, boyo?"

Clay sighed and answered, "Mayans torched our warehouse where we assemble the guns."

"Oh, well that is unfortunate. What does that mean for the business?"

We're still building up the replacement warehouse. It might take us a bit longer to pay you for more weapons, mainly because we have to secure the location before assembly can begin. Maybe two… three months, tops."

The Irishman glanced around the space, taking in the walled off garage and clubhouse. "Could you not assemble the weapons here?"

At those words all of the assembled bikers shook their heads in the negative. "We don't shit where we eat. Learned that lesson the hard way in the early days. Our money streams don't cross at all, so this here garage and bar are both completely legitimate in the eyes of the law and the IRS."

"This news is a bit of a problem. You're saying there's gonna be up to three months where you won't be buying guns from us. SAMCRO is a big part of our income."

"Sometimes things happen, unfortunate instances, in business. You need to adapt. As a long standing partner we were hoping you'd understand that."

The Irishman bristled up at that. "Except this isn't a business for me or mine, brother. The true IRA aren't merchants, we're soldiers, and this little deal of ours helps to fund our struggle. Without it we lose ground in the fight. We simply can't wait for the time frame you give us."

Clay shared a look with Jax and asked, "What does that mean exactly?"

"It means that if you cannot front us the cash in advance for the missed time then we are going to have to find other buyers, and our contract will officially be at an end."

Jax was trying to wrap his head around this turn of events. "Let me get this straight, you want us to give you front payment for three months of business just to hold your loyalty?"

"No, laddie. I expect you to pay us for three months of work, and when your new shop is open, we'll bring you the product you paid for. It's an investment, and without it we will go elsewhere. But this isn't all. No, laddies, not by a longshot. See, your warehouse burning down is a casualty of commerce, but losing our guns… that'd be a casualty of war. The IRA does not like loose ends."

Clay thought about this and nodded, "We'll need a little bit of time to get that money together. The amount you're talking about is close to 200K after all. How long can you give us?"

The Irishman considered the question and drummed his fingers on the top of a nearby barrel. "I'm heading up North for a bit a business tomorrow and I should be gone a couple weeks. When I get back I'll be expecting the money."

"Fine, but take Chibs here with you. He can act as a driver and guide should you need it."

"Much obliged. Now if you'll be excusin me, I need to be getting to me hotel. I'll pick your man up in the morning." So saying, the rotund man hopped off the truck and started walking down the street. No one knew where his hotel was, and no one followed him.

The next morning things were progressing as usual. Clay was trying to figure out where he could come up with that kind of money and everyone else was working when a black Mercedes came rolling into the lot and none other than Elliot Oswald came out, grabbed Clay by the arm and led him away for a private conversation. Not long later he took off and the president pulled everyone into the meeting room.

"Elliot's daughter was raped last night at the carnival. He asked us to find the rapist and bring him to him alive."

"Perfect." Harry grinned from his place at the wall. "The guy is absolutely loaded. We find the rapist, he pays us the two hundred grand we need to pay the Irish, and we're square." To his surprise, his dad merely looked away at that.

"We're not asking him for money for this."

"What!" Now Jax was getting in on the shock. "Why the hell not. Clay, we don't have a lot of other prospects that can pay that fast. All the work we've been grabbing on the side won't cover that much in the time frame we've got."

"Because we might need him to owe us a bigger favor at a later time. Trust me, I have a use for him already in the works and if we charge him now then he won't feel like he owes us." Once everyone was calm again, he continued, "Besides, this happened in our town. A thirteen year old girl was raped in 'our town'. This kind of shit does not happen in Charming and we need to remind people of that. The people here tolerate us because they know we keep the scum worse than us out of their lives. It's time we lived up to that."

"Here here!" A few members cheered.

"We'll need to stay ahead of Hale." Bobby noted. "High profile case like this, he'll be all over it."

Clay agreed, "Which is why I want you, Harry, and Jax looking into the carnies. They're the only foreign element so it could easily be one of them. Tig and Happy, look into the Nords. They've used rape as retaliation before, so maybe they feel like the Oswalds cheated them out of a deal or something. Hell, just raising the rent on the land they live on could be reason enough in their books."

"On it, boss." Tig nodded.

"Finally, Juice, I want you to get into the federal sex offender database and start plugging in names. If someone from either of those two groups pops then I want to know."

"You got it."

"Good." Clay slammed his gavel on the table. "Meeting adjourned."

Outside The Clubhouse

James took a deep breath and slowly pulled his recently bought Dodge Charger into the service line at Teller-Morrow Auto. He and his wife had thought long and hard about how best to introduce themselves to the club, and thus their son, and they had decided making themselves useful and well thought of was the best way. It helped that their 'unique' methods of investigation had helped them figure out what the leather clad outlaws would be after right away. Clay hadn't realized that James was watching his little meeting with Elliot under his invisibility cloak. A short bout of legilimency later and he knew exactly who the rapist was. The wait between then and now was simply so he could come to terms with the fact that telling the MC would certainly be signing the man's death warrant. In the end, it hadn't been so hard after all. What harm was one less rapist in the world?

There was a bit of a wait before a group of leather clad men left the main clubhouse and meandered out into the yard and the very man he'd been most hoping to see came strolling up to meet him. James promptly got out of the car, closed the door, and willed himself not to freak out as he suddenly found himself less than three feet away from the son he'd been searching for for so long.

"Welcome to Teller-Morrow Auto," he began, "I'm the manager, Harry Morrow, how can I help you?"

Manfully stopping himself from shuddering at that name, James answered, "Oh, my car is running fine."

For his part, Harry was quite confused by this turn of events. "Then what brings you here?"

Fishing in his pocket, James pulled out a business card, one he'd had made just for this introduction. "I'm James Potter, PI, and private contractor. My wife and I just moved to town from England and we think we might be of use to your group."

Harry laughed out loud at that. "How so? What could a private contractor do for a club of Harley lovers and an auto shop?"

James leveled the younger man with a serious stare, "Son, I've been around the world and I've seen a great deal. I know a biker gang when I see one, and I have no problems with yours. What I do have a problem with is my wife and I finding a nice place to settle down in and finding out that a rape has occurred almost immediately after. Now, I have employed my investigative skills and have learned the identity of the man responsible."

Suddenly serious himself, Harry stared the stranger down, taking notice for the first time of his rambunctious black hair with hints of gray, slightly pointed nose, and finely detailed bone structure, and wondering why the hell he looked so familiar. "You came here with that information? Why not go to the police with it?"

James smirked in what he hoped was a roguish way. "Because they would only book him, send him to prison for a few years, and then let him out again. I think you guys will make sure the threat he represents ends permanently. Also, I thought this might let you all know how useful my skills are. For reference, my wife is even better. Perhaps your MC might consider putting our services on retainer?"

"We just might." Harry thought about it for a moment before tilting his head back towards the main building. "Come on. My dad is inside and I'm sure he'd be very interested to hear the information you want to sell us."

Swallowing the rage he felt at hearing another man called "dad" James nodded and followed at an easy pace. He could bide his time. The most important thing at this moment was to integrate into Harry's life, and by the gods that was what he and Lily were going to do. He failed to notice Gemma, who had come into the office to go over some part order receipts, staring at him with a look of intense interest.

Magical Britain

Pansy Parkinson was desperate. There was no other word for her current situation. Pretty much from the moment she could first toddle around her family home her parents had been searching the market for a suitable husband for her. When she was six, they'd formed a contract with the heir to the Malfoy family, a young boy named Draco.

When she'd been told of this agreement she'd been overjoyed. She'd been on several playdates with other pureblood children and Draco was adorable. Then she'd attended Hogwarts and learned who and what he truly was. First year wasn't horrible, sure her betrothed was uptight and full of himself, but that was to be expected of one of his social standing. It was up to her as his future wife to keep him grounded, and for that one year she'd been his friend, and somewhat managed to succeed. Then in second year he'd started to pull away, preferring the company of other male friends to girls. Third year he didn't even talk to her. Fourth… things started to get bad.

Puberty had hit Draco hard, and he'd apparently been learning more than just manners from his former death eater father, because he'd sat next to her on the Hogwarts Express and immediately begun explaining to her what he expected of her as his future property. Not his wife, his property. First was a male heir, and the things that followed, well, Draco apparently had a very sick and twisted idea of what was supposed to occur in their future marriage bed.

She'd managed to waylay him by never being alone in his presence, always sticking close to her friends, Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis, but always she could feel his cruel and lecherous eyes on her. At social functions he crushed her hand in his own to make sure she didn't wander off. At family balls he insisted she sit alone between dances so no one could be seen to be putting hands on what was his.

Fifth, sixth, and seventh year only saw his possessiveness and malice grow and by the time she graduated Hogwarts she knew with absolute certainty that if she married him, her life would be a living hell beyond the prospect of mere words to describe. This was not right. It was not how things were supposed to be. Her mother had raised and trained her to take on the role of a pureblood wife. She would handle the home, the finances, the servants. She'd make sure her family's lives were secure and calm so that when her husband came home he'd have nothing to worry about and could focus on family alone. That was the role of a wife in their world, to support and protect the family while her husband provided for it. She was not a slave, which Draco seemed to assume instead.

And that was another thing, Draco himself. His attitude and sick mind aside, he was not what was promised. Her father had made the case that he was a true dark wizard with the honor, mind, and capabilities to go far in life. Yet he was none of those things. Now, Pansy herself was not evil, but she was from a dark family. She appreciated and respected dark mentalities, physical and magical strength, confidence, and a willingness to get one's own hands dirty, and she doubted the precious Malfoy heir had ever even cracked a nail. He gave no thought to his magical education and merely strutted around the halls of the school like he owned them. There was no true confidence of his own in him, merely a heavy bluster brought about by insecurity and an inferiority complex; if she had to hear him say "when my father hears about this" one more time she was going to puke. In the end it was clear. Draco Malfoy was weak of body, mind, magic, and character, and he was as truly dark as Dumbledore's exorbitantly colored dress robes.

But how could she get out of it? She was a pureblood heiress, and by rights she belonged to whoever her father gave her to.

It was Daphne, sweet and dependable Daphne that had given her the idea that gave her enough time to formulate a plan. Her marriage contract was quite clear in a very certain regard. She needed to be married and bedded at a time that was most certain to produce a male offspring as a result. So she'd paid a healer at Saint Mungoes to write and sign a statement that he'd performed a thorough analysis of her reproductive organs and that her most likely time to conceive a son would be on the eve of her twenty-sixth birthday.

That gave her six years to find a way out. It only took her five. Between the constant eye of Draco and the single minded devotion of her parents to selling her off like a piece of cattle, it had been incredibly difficult to squirrel away enough money to pay a lawyer to look over her contract, and had taken an exorbitant amount of time to find a chance to slip away from her family home to engage one, but eventually she had, and a path to salvation had been provided.

Now here she stood outside the gates of #12 Grimmauld Place. She'd left directly from the lawyer's office and with how long she'd been gone already if this didn't work out she was sure to face severe repercussions upon returning home.

Steeling herself for the conversation ahead, she knocked thrice on the door and waited. It didn't take long for a crotchety house elf in a loin cloth to open it for her. "Yes?" Its voice was rough as gravel.

"My name is Pansy Parkinson, and I request an immediate meeting with the head of the Black Family. My need is urgent."

The elf nodded, "Parkinson, a strong pureblood name. Follow me, Heiress Parkinson." He stepped aside and she practically rushed into the safety of the hall, breathing her first real sigh of relief in years as the portal to the street closed soundly behind her.

She was led up to the third floor and into a large office where none other than Sirius Black was waiting, feet propped up on a massive blackwood desk, and eating from a large bag of potato chips.

"Pansy Parkinson." He said after another mouthful and putting down the bag at last. "What could possibly bring you to my door at this time of the afternoon?"

Pansy took a deep breath, stood tall, and proclaimed, "Lord Black, I seek sanctuary, and for you to nullify the marriage contract between myself and Draco Malfoy."

Sirius' eyes grew wide at that proclamation. "Well that is certainly a surprise." He swept his legs from the desk and clasped his hands expectantly over it. "Why?"

"Because Draco is a monster, a pretender to everything he claims to believe, and he will hurt me." She whispered, her strength beginning to waver after the stressful life that had led her to this moment.

The Black Lord nodded with a look of pure understanding on his face. "I am glad you see that you understand that, and I am sorry that you have had to suffer in fear up to this point. Too many have been drawn into the malice of the Malfoy family already. It's my hope that now that Draco is grown I'll be able to free my cousin Narcissa soon enough as well." He reached a hand out, "I'm assuming you have the contract on you?"

Pansy rushed to hand it over, and released a sobbing laugh as she watched Sirius rip it in half, a flash of light following the act that showed her engagement had been broken in the eyes of magic as well.

"As the head of the Black family, and thus the Malfoys as a branch family by marriage to Narcissa, I hereby invoke the annulment clause of your contract. From this day forth, be free of its influence. So mote it be."

"T-Thank you, Lord Black." Pansy fell to her knees in gratitude. "Thank you so much."

Smiling fondly, Sirius said, "It was nothing. Please, rise and sit." He gestured to a nearby desk chair and the Parkinson heiress practically fell into it. "Now, you asked for sanctuary, and I would grant it, but you must know that breaking this contract will make you an enemy to the Malfoys. Should you leave this house they will come for you."

"Yes, and my family will disown me for the shame my actions here will cause."

"I figured as much. So I have a suggestion. How would you feel about leaving the country and starting your life fresh somewhere else?"

Pansy blinked in surprise, "That sounds like it would be perfect. But where? And how would I support myself?"

The man opposite her smiled and said, "You asked for sanctuary from me, so I can provide you with a stipend to live on. It won't be up to heiress levels of wealth but you will be comfortable. As to where, I was thinking of a small town in America called Charming. A couple friends of mine are already there looking for their son so I'm sure they can help you get settled."

By this point tears were freely falling down Pansy's face as she stared in shock at the Black Lord. She'd never in her wildest dreams expected this much generosity. "W-What would you ask in return?"

With a look of pure warmth on his face, Sirius answered, "I only ask that you live a life that you choose. Once upon a time someone freed me from captivity, and I'm happy to do the same for you. Be happy, Pansy. That is the price."

Charming

Potter's information had panned out, and after a brief scuffle with a bunch of carnies trying to defend their own, they loaded the rapist in the back of one of their vans and carried him off to a secluded neck of the woods where Elliot Oswlad was waiting with a knife. Thanks to the Potter man, they'd found their target leagues and bounds ahead of the police who were still chasing after whatever leads they could find like a chicken with its head cut off.

Apparently Elliot's plan was to cut off the carnival rapist's dick in retaliation for what he'd done to his daughter, but in the end he didn't have it in him. He handed the blade to Clay, and he happily did it for him, staining his gloved hands red before pocketing the knife as his men started to bury the newly bled out corpse. A murder weapon with a millionaire's fingerprints on it was incredibly useful after all. Not that he saw it. Elliot left before the final blow was struck, trusting in the club to finish the job he could not.

"You sure this is how you want to play things?" Harry asked his old man. "Blackmail won't work long term."

Clay smirked at that, "I don't plan to use it long term. Just to make sure he puts his weight behind denying any future expansion plans for Charming in City Hall. If the town grows, more cops get hired as a necessity. It stays small, and we maintain the run of the place. We only use the knife if a vote comes up and we need him to swing our way. We'll mail this fucker's balls to him so he has a nice souvenir to remember exactly how much he owes us."

"I still don't like it."

"Your opinion has been noted. Now get on out of here. We'll handle the rest."

"If you say so."

Elsewhere

The stillness of the Potter's new home in Charming was interrupted as an international portkey popped a disoriented Pansy Parkinson in the middle of their living room. Lily was waiting, having received Sirius' mirror call.

"Welcome to our home, Pansy. We're happy to have you."

The brunette stared at the older woman with clear gratitude and replied, "I'm happy to be here. More happy than you know."

"From what Sirius told me, I think I do. But regardless, I'm sure you'll have a wonderful life here in Charming."

Reflecting the smile of her host, Pansy answered, "I'm sure I will too."